Two years later they were joined by the W-- family who had read of the paradise found by the dentist and his mate. Margret W-- was 5 months pregnant when she arrived. Things did not go smoothly for the German couple and the W--s, who gradually came to despise one another.

Then came a pistol-packing, whip-wielding woman who called herself a baroness. With her were two paramours and a young Ecuadorian factotum she had enlisted in Guayaquil. They patched together a dwelling from sheet metal left behind by a Norwegian group, who ten years earlier had failed in an attempt to establish a fish cannery on the island. The baroness envisioned construction of a luxury hotel that would cater to millionaire yachtsmen.

These four lived a life of drunken orgies and violence, described in print by their neighbor, Margret W--, whose offspring still live on the island. Rolf W--, owner of the boat on which our group was touring, was born to Margret in a pirate cave on the island, since their dwelling was not finished. The dentist assisted at the birth.

Relations among the island's settlers were strained. The baroness stole supplies from her neighbors, demanded as entertainment physical combat among members of her two competing lovers, proclaimed herself Empress (or sometimes Queen) of the Galapagos, went nude, and bathed in the island's only fresh water supply. One of her entourage confided that the woman was no aristocrat but a dancer and actress.

In 1934 the baroness disappeared after supposedly embarking with her currently favorite lover on a visiting yacht bound for Tahiti. No one else had information of such a yacht. Her body and that of her lover were never found. Suspicion of murder fell on both the W-- family and the bogus baroness's rejected lover-the one who was physically smaller and came out second-best in the combats. He soon left Floreana by boat.The man was found dead on the nearby island of Marchena, apparently the victim of thirst and starvation.

The German dentist, a self-proclaimed vegetarian, died of food poisoning brought on by eating chicken that, according to one source, the W--s gave him in return for assisting at the birth of Rolf W--. The doctor had convinced his mate that the chicken would be free of harmful toxins if cooked sufficiently.

The stories became increasingly bizarre, spiced with mysterious deaths and disappearances. Today, tales abound concerning the ghosts of Floreana.

Weary after a day of underwater, shipboard, and dry-land sightseeing, my wife and I retired early. Rather than a single stateroom, we were quartered in two smaller cabins in the ship's bow, each with its own toilet and shower, and separated by a narrow companion way. I fell asleep, my imagination churning with the gothic tales of Floreana's beginnings.

I awoke at 4 a.m. when I heard noise at my stateroom door. It opened and I was able to see -- backlighted -- the figure of a slender woman. She wore no stitch of clothing. Thinking of the ghost of the baroness, I checked the apparition's hands for pistol or riding crop. There were none. After pausing in my room, the figure retreated, closed the door and paid the same visit to my wife's stateroom across the gangway. Moments later it reentered my room and began feeling the wall for a light switch. "I think you have the wrong room," I said firmly. "I can't find the bathroom," came an answering murmur with a slight English accent. The figure then exited and retreated.

The nude intruder -- sleepwalking or merely disoriented -- was the woman lodged with her husband in the stateroom adjoining mine. Comfortable equatorial temperatures and economy of suitcase packing presumably accounted for her lack of night clothing as they did for my wife's and mine. Before returning to sleep, I toyed with the thought that the cruise boat's management had staged the late-night visitation to lend dash and brio to the legend of Floreana's ghosts. If so, I would have some suggestions for the casting director. The ghostly visitor to our staterooms was a petite and slender woman -- one we had chatted with at mealtimes. She was seventy-five years old.