We worked away steadily in the ravine until Christmas Day, when there was, of course, a holiday. We had a most luxurious dinner on shore, as also had the three men on board the vessel. The menu of our shore-dinner was as follows:—Turtle soup, boiled hind-fish, curried turtle-steak, boiled salt junk, tinned plum-pudding. For vegetables we had preserved potatoes and carrots, and Trinidad beans. Good old rum was the only beverage. There were some other luxuries, chief of which was a box of cigars, which had been put away for this occasion. Christmas Day was intensely hot, so that we remained in our tents, having no energy for exploring mountains. With the exception of Jacko’s disgraceful intoxication, no incidents of note occurred.
On the Sunday after Christmas Day, Pursell and myself set out to explore the weather side of the island, taking our lunch in our pockets—biscuits, figs, rum, and tobacco. We crossed the Sugarloaf Col and descended upon the coast of Southeast Bay, then we turned to the right and followed the shore to the extreme south end of the island, where Noah’s Ark falls a sheer wall into the surf.
There was a quantity of wreckage in this bay, and in one place we found a topmast and some ribs of a vessel which might have been the remains of the hull I had seen here nine years before. The broken bits of planks, timbers, barrels, hen-coops and other relics of ships, were piled quite thickly on the rocks above high-water mark, and we came across a square-faced gin bottle, full of fresh water, which, from its position, could not have been washed ashore, but must have been left here by some human being. We saw the footprints of turtle, showing that every sandy beach on this island is frequented by numbers of these creatures. In view of the threatened turtle-famine we read of, it might be worth someone’s while to come here for a cargo of them; but the difficulty of getting any quantity off alive would be great.
The scenery of East Bay is very extraordinary, for here the signs of volcanic action are more evident than on any other portion of the island. At the south end of the bay there is no sandy beach; masses of shattered rocks, fallen from above, strew the shore, and between these are solidified streams of black lava, which appear to have followed each other in successive waves, one having cooled before the next has poured down upon it, so that a series of rounded steps is formed. The ledges of lava extend far out to sea, producing a dangerous reef, on which the sea always breaks heavily.
As we advanced over the boulders there towered above us on our right hand the perpendicular side of Noah’s Ark, of a strange red colour, looking like molten iron where the sun’s rays fell upon it. A quantity of red debris from the roof of this mountain was also lying on the shore, and at the north end of it we observed that a gigantic couloir—as it would be called in the Alps—of volcanic ashes and lava sloped down from its summit to the gap which connects it with the Sugarloaf. It was obvious, from the vast amount of these fire-consumed debris and waves of lava surrounding its base, that Noah’s Ark had once been a very active volcano, and I think it highly probable that there is a crater at the top of it. Though it is perpendicular on three sides, it might be possible to ascend it from the fourth side, by the couloir connecting it with the gap under the Sugarloaf; but the attempt would be risky, and a slip on its steep, sloping roof would mean a drop over a wall 800 feet in height.
We clambered over the rocks until we came to the end of Noah’s Ark, and we stood on a ledge of lava and gazed at one of the strangest sights of this strange island. The base of the great red mountain is pierced by a magnificent tunnel, known as the Archway, which connects Southwest Bay with East Bay. What seem to be gigantic stalactites depend from its roof; and the different gradations of colour and shade on its rugged sides—from glowing red in the blaze of the sun to terra-cotta, delicate pink, and rich purple, and then to deepest black in the inmost recesses—produce a very beautiful effect. The heaving water is black within it, save where the white spray flashes; but, looking through it, one perceives, beyond, the bright green waves of Southwest Bay, and the blue sky above them.
The sea does not flow freely through the tunnel, except at high-water; for, on the side we were standing, its mouth is crossed by a ledge of lava, which is left dry by the receding tide. But inside the tunnel there is deep water, and the ocean swell always penetrates it from Southwest Bay, dashing up its sides with a great roar, which is repeated in hoarse echoes by the mountain.
According to an ancient description of Trinidad quoted in the South Atlantic Directory, the Archway is 40 feet in breadth, 50 in height, and 420 in length. I think it far higher and broader than this—at any rate, at its mouth.
