Summary

H. Bedford-Jones Rajah of Hell Island — 2. Isle of Jehannum (1917)

Although Miss Bretton remained in the upper chamber of the pavilion, he knew that she would hear all that passed. So, too, would the men behind him.
The other boat drew in slowly. A huge beef-eater was Captain Benbow, with a great, red face like the face of Borrow’s apple-woman, a liar’s soul behind his staring blue eyes, and the dangerous courage of a carrion rat in his heart. Beside him in the stern was the bulky, menacing figure of Mickelson. To all appearance neither man was armed, but Stone was not deceived by appearances.
Source: Wikisource

H. Bedford-Jones Rajah of Hell Island — 2. Isle of Jehannum (1917)

Mickelson’s boats were passed without effort, but still Stone urged his rowers ahead. In the lee of the mangrove swamps the surface of the lagoon was well protected, and gradually the gray mass of Hell Island drew into shape before them. A fantastic thing it was, and a fantastic city it must have been, connected by a causeway with the mainland in the ages before the coastline began to sink.
Like other such ancient cities of the jungle, it was too massively built to be ruined by anything less than an earthquake.
Source: Wikisource

H. Bedford-Jones Rajah of Hell Island — 2. Isle of Jehannum (1917)

He turned the boat’s head to the right, paid no heed to Benbow’s waving arms, and the great wharf slid behind them.
“Look at the birds!” exclaimed Miss Bretton suddenly.
“Yes, the storm has driven them to shelter,” assented Stone. The trees and vines seemed cloaked with birds, seabirds, and gay creatures of the jungle, and the carven edges of old temples were etched by them into color. “Ah, there’s the place we want!”
A little promontory opened up ahead, upon which stood a fairy-land building—the pavilion of some forgotten Sultan’s favorite, perhaps.
Source: Wikisource

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