To the Keeling Cocos Islands was now only five hundred and fifty
miles; but even in this short run it was necessary to be extremely
careful in keeping a true course else I would miss the atoll.
On the 12th, some hundred miles southwest of Christmas Island, I saw
anti-trade clouds flying up from the southwest very high over the
regular winds, which weakened now for a few days, while a swell
heavier than usual set in also from the southwest. A winter gale was
going on in the direction of the Cape of Good Hope. Accordingly, I
steered higher to windward, allowing twenty miles a day while this
went on, for change of current; and it was not too much, for on that
course I made the Keeling Islands right ahead. The first unmistakable
sign of the land was a visit one morning from a white tern that
fluttered very knowingly about the vessel, and then took itself off
westward with a businesslike air in its wing. The tern is called by
the islanders the "pilot of Keeling Cocos." Farther on I came among a
great number of birds fishing, and fighting over whatever they caught.
My reckoning was up, and springing aloft, I saw from half-way up the
mast cocoanut-trees standing out of the water ahead. I expected to see
this; still, it thrilled me as an electric shock might have done. I
slid down the mast, trembling under the strangest sensations; and not
able to resist the impulse, I sat on deck and gave way to my emotions.
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