It was so close that both Somers and I had our coats off and I told Cecil to grab the chain-- But we weathered it and landed at a high gangway cut in the solid rock the first three steps of which were swamped by the waves.

A rope and chain hung from the top of the wharf and a man swung his weight on this and yanked us out to the steps as the boat was on the wave.

The rain beat and the wind roared and beautiful palms lashed the air with their fronds-- It was grand to get on shore once again-- At the end of the wharf we were hustled into a sled on steel runners, like a hearse with curtains around it and drawn by bullocks-- The streets were all of mosaic, thousands of little stones being packed together like corn on a cob.

Over this the heavy sledge was drawn by the bullocks while a small boy ran ahead through the narrow streets to clear the way-- He had a feather duster made of horse's tail as a badge of authority and he yelled some strange cry at the empty streets and closed houses.

Another little boy in a striped jersey ran beside and assured us he was a guide.