Captain Moresby informs me that in the Chagos archipelago in
this same ocean, the natives, by a horrible process, take the shell
from the back of the living turtle. "It is covered with burning
charcoal, which causes the outer shell to curl upwards, it is then
forced off with a knife, and before it becomes cold flattened
between boards. After this barbarous process the animal is suffered
to regain its native element, where, after a certain time, a new
shell is formed; it is, however, too thin to be of any service, and
the animal always appears languishing and sickly."
When we arrived at the head of the lagoon we crossed a narrow islet
and found a great surf breaking on the windward coast. I can hardly
explain the reason, but there is to my mind much grandeur in the
view of the outer shores of these lagoon-islands. There is a
simplicity in the barrier-like beach, the margin of green bushes
and tall cocoa-nuts, the solid flat of dead coral-rock, strewed
here and there with great loose fragments, and the line of furious
breakers, all rounding away towards either hand. The ocean throwing
its waters over the broad reef appears an invincible, all-powerful
enemy; yet we see it resisted, and even conquered, by means which
at first seem most weak and inefficient.
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