noon
The vegetation was a little more varied and genial than we had yet seen , and some small white flowers , growing in long lines , as if they had been planted , wafted a very sweet fragrance across our breakfast table of white coral sand . While we were eating , two or three little lizards with tails curiously twirled round and round , like a St. Catherine wheel , made themselves friendly , and ate pieces of bread from our hands without fear . Now that we knew where we were , it was clear , but by no means careless sailing to our camp . By noon we had made the trip through the bight and , passing out of a narrow creek known as Loggerhead Creek , were on the southwest side of the island . A hundred and fifty miles or so of straight sailing would have brought us to Cuba , but our way lay north up the coast , as we had come down the other . Here was the same white water as the day before , with the bluish track showing the deeper channel ; the same long , monotonous coast ; the same dwarf , rusty-green scrub ; not a sign of life anywhere . Nothing but the endless blue-streaked white water and the endless desert shore .