Nature is fond of contrasts, and delights in the unexpected; therefore, after the gloom and tumult of the previous night, the morning showed the three castaways a scene of peaceful beauty so enchanting, that they thought they were in fairyland. The sea had gone down after midnight, and only a heavy ground-swell remained to tell of the fury of the storm which had wrecked The Eunice. All around lay an expanse of sapphire sea, touched here and there with white foam, which turned to crimson as the morn dawned redly in the gray eastern skies. Far into the cloudless blue arose the giant peak of Melnos, its lofty summit swathed in snows already bathed in the heavy yellow beams of the rising sun. Below its white cap appeared a green mantle of foliage, which quite hid the bare rock with a profusion of myrtles, plane-trees, arbutus, ilex, and branching heather; and lower still the red tint of rugged cliffs, the black chaotic bowlders of the beach scattered in huge masses, and in and out of these the white threads of the surf like fairy lacework. Far away to the north arose the Island of Kamila, faint and cloud-like in the midst of the blue seas, and on the murmuring waters played gentle breezes, breathing fragrant balms robbed from aromatic trees. It was a scene of unexampled beauty, and even the three unfortunates clinging to the mast could not withhold their admiration, in spite of the discomforts from which they were suffering. “Once we are on shore,” said Crispin, with confidence, “I will take you into the interior of the island, where we will be well looked after by Justinian.” “Has the island an interior?” asked Maurice sceptically, for he saw nothing but a huge mountain resting on the azure sea. “Of course! Did I not tell you it was the Island of Fantasy, and therefore full of wonders? But the first thing is to get to land. What do you say, Gurt?” “Swim, sir.” “I feel too stiff,” said Crispin, shaking his head. “I could not swim a yard—and you, Maurice?” “I am in the same plight,” replied Roylands, whose joints were aching with the exposure to the night. “If it’s a question of swimming, I will have to remain here till doomsday.” “I kin swim, gentlemen,” said Gurt stoutly. “Bless ye, this ain’t nothin’, this ain’t. Why, I’ve bin wrecked in the nor’ard, and precious cold it were. I kin get ashore all safe, but I dunno ’bout you, sirs.” Gurt’s face assumed the rapt expression of one who was thinking out a deep problem, and Maurice, knowing the inventiveness of sailors, did not interrupt him, having every confidence that this mariner would hit upon some plan of extricating them from this dilemma. “There are plenty of ropes,” suggested Crispin hopefully, “and if”— “Right y’are, sir,” said Gurt energetically, his one eye flashing with satisfaction. “I’ll tie ‘em together and swim ashore. Fust I’ll tie the rope t’ th’ mast an’ then t’ th’ beach, an’ you two kin skip along like monkeys. D’ye see, sirs?”