The Coolidge examiner., 1937-03-04

with blue puddles on it. "
That's all water" explains the
steward But it's so clear you see
right through it to the white,
sandy bottom. The blue puddles are
just deep ocean holes
What with racing cloud shadows,
play of light on green islands, paint
ed coral, and tinted sands, the hu-
man eye is easily fooled by some OF
physical geography's tricks on an
air trip through the Bahamas.
Two hours from Miami, Florida,
out over the Gulf Stream in fast
plane, you reach this 630mile chain
of some 5000 British-oWned islands,
Gays, and rocks that stretches al
most to Hispaniola.
Just now we are flying past the
north tip of fiat, brush-strewn An
dros island, largest of the Bahamas,
it's west shore Tapped by milky shall
lows known as THE Mud" where
rheumatic sponge fishers ply their
back breaking trade in the blue
green depths.
Everyone keeps his nose pressed
against the windows, watching the
fascinating panorama of reefs, is
lets, sand bars and multi-hued wa
ters below.
So fiat and low, so symmetrical
are some of these tiny jungle-green
isles that from above, in Jack-and-
the-Beanstalk fancy, they suggest
huge pumpkin leaves afoat on seas
of opaline paint.
Look at that long strip of land,
with a pirates tower on it," some
one urges.
That's Treasure Island (Salt
Cay). 1t belongs to John T. Nc
Cutcheon, the Chicago cartoonist, :"
explains the patient steward. Nov
we're over Hog island, where hu-
man swallows from Canada and the
States sun themselves in winter.
There's their Porcupine club, and
Paradise beach. That wreck is an
old Confederate blockade runner,
sunk more than 70 years ago. The
big island is New Providence, and
this town is Nassau, capital of the
Bahamas"
Landing at Nassau.
Flashes now of galloping ponies
training on dusty track, and golf
course dotted with palms bent by
tropic winds; a ruined tower, which
the steward says was Blackboard S
lookout; then ancient, abandoned
forts, their rusty, muzzle-loading
cannon no more harmful now than
blind and toothless watchdogs, yet
still frowning grimly at that sea
long explored by Spaniards d
haunted by pirates.
Swift glimpses, too, of stately
Government house, the British flag
and stiff sentries on patrol, spacious
homes set in gardens afiame with
red, yellow, and purple. Then lower
we glide, back over the long, narrow
harbor with its trading schooners,
lazy white yachts, and glaSs-bottom
sightseeing boats drifting over cor
al beds and canary -colored fish, and
so down to smooth, bumpless land
ing.
One hears the greeting, Welcome
to the Isles of June!" as he scram-
bles ashore.
From the dock the arriving
visitor drives through long, straight
Bay street, which is the shopping
center of Nassau. High rooted,
horse-drawn hacks, bells jingling
and red curtains tapping, move in
and out among motor cars, bicycles,
and huge sponge carts, their cargo
bulky but light.
ITO your right" says your host,
in mock imitation Cf a guides lee
ture, "is Old Fort Montague, cap
tured by the baby American navy
during the Revolution. That wharf
is where they hanged pirates.
THAT big shed is the sponge
market. The hymns you hear are
sung by the old women who sit
here in the shade and clip sponges
with their shears, and get them
ready to ship"
But who are all these excited
people," you esk, "crowding the
curio shops for trick straw hats,
turtle shells, and pickaninny dolls?
Surely they can't all live in this
small town."
'They don't. They're travellers.
Each season 60 or 80 big liners call
here on Caribbean cruises. Plus
those who come by planes and pri-
vate yachts, Nassau winter visitors
almost equal the whole population
of the Bahamas.
Where Columbus Landed.
"Fifty-nine thousand people are
scattered through these islands.
Eighty per cent are blacks and mu-
lattoes; many never even get to
Nassau, much less the Florida
mainland. This is town now, you
might say, of hotels-and history"
First and greatest event in all
annals of our Western Hemisphere,
in fact, occurred right here in these