The shore was massed with mangroves and dense, tropical vegetation.

There was no sign of houses nor of human occupancy, although Van Horn, staring at the dense jungle so close at hand, knew as a matter of course that scores, and perhaps hundreds, of pairs of human eyes were looking at him.
"Smell 'm, Jerry, smell 'm," he encouraged.
And Jerry's hair bristled as he barked at the mangrove wall, for truly his keen scent informed him of lurking niggers.
"If I could smell like him," the captain said to the mate, "there wouldn't be any risk at all of my ever losing my head." But Borckman made no reply and sullenly went about his work.

There was little wind in the bay, and the _Arangi_ slowly forged in and dropped anchor in thirty fathoms.

So steep was the slope of the harbour bed from the beach that even in such excessive depth the _Arangi's_ stern swung in within a hundred feet of the mangroves.
Van Horn continued to cast anxious glances at the wooded shore.

For Su'u had an evil name.