THE town crier of St George's doffed his hat to salute us as we sailed past, ringing his bell to celebrate our safe arrival. As he did so, the Norwegian Majesty swept past within three yards of him, all 38,000 tons of her, ten stories high, gleaming white from end to end.

As she threaded her way gingerly through the narrow channel that leads into the town, a flotilla of yachts fringing the waterfront came into view, framed by a heart-stopping vista of pastel-shaded houses, restaurants and shops, peeking out from amongst the slow, rolling greenery of Bermuda's balmy north east coast.

Twenty minutes later, and the soaring flank of the Majesty kissed the pier, literally no more than 20 yards away from the restored pillory and stocks in the town square. Half an hour later, 1,400 passengers began pouring ashore, armed with nothing more offensive than cameras and fistfuls of dollars.

This mix of tourism and tradition seems to sum up Bermuda perfectly. Sitting less than 700 miles from Boston, right in the middle of the Atlantic, the island is a million miles different in temperament from its more exuberant neighbours in the Caribbean, some 1,000 miles to the south.

Like them, Bermuda is kissed by warm breezes and long, balmy days and nights. Indolent date palms fringe some of the most lavish expanses of pink sand on earth. But there the similarities end.

On this relentlessly British island, the wearing of Bermuda shorts as office attire is obligatory. Here, you will find no McDonald's or, for that matter, any other fast food chain. Private cars are at a premium on an island with a speed limit set at 20mph. Taxis are plentiful, as are the mopeds that emerge from behind oleander shaded walls at all hours of the day.

Smiling children walk, unescorted by parents, getting on and off school buses that amble lethargically to and fro. Here, a traffic jam really is two mopeds and a golf cart.

The island is famously expensive, but the views of an early spring sun, sagging gently into what looks like a sea of blazing straw, are utterly priceless.

Untouched by the much larger cruise ships that have turned some of the Caribbean islands into technicolour shopping malls, Bermuda has a surreal, subtle charm that is impossible to manufacture. With three full days and nights to savour the atmosphere, it did not take long to kick back into Bermuda's easygoing, old world way of doing things.

The sheer courtesy of the people is almost overwhelming. The average 'onion', as the island's people are known, would be mortified to think that he had offended amyone.

This level of interest, courtesy and concern almost seems to be carried through the streets on the breeze. Horse-drawn carriages full of tourists stop to let old ladies cross the road. On the waterfront, outside a pub, a flotilla of unmanned jet skis bob idly up and down like contented ducks.

In the handful of bars thronging the waterfront, tourists and locals alike mingle to drink delicious Dark and Stormys as the prelude to an open-air dinner in the town.

Bermuda is not for those obsessed with nightlife, keeping itself purposefully aloof from more hedonistic islands such as St Lucia and Barbados. Hamilton, the capital, does boast a couple of nightclubs, but even these close at around 2am.

But if Bermuda has one thing that everyone agrees on, it is the sheer, staggering diversity of beautiful beaches that ring the edges of this 23-mile long, pink and emerald fishhook-shaped island. Several of these, such as Elbow Beach, are world famous. But one of the prettiest of all is St Catherine's Beach, just a short, safe, 20-minute walk from town.

Here, in the shade of massive, historic Fort St Catherine, a ribbon of pink sand shelves gently into the balmy blue of the Atlantic. Framed on the landward side by a lushly manicured golf course, the lido hosts a DJ playing afternoon background music, mainly old seventies soul such as Al Green and The O'Jays. Sun loungers dot the tranquil expanse of sand, occasionally washed by the rolling surf. No hawkers, no litter, no crime.

Return at night and you might catch a live reggae band, framed by the floodlit bulk of the fort. Everybody speaks to everybody else. The night air is alive with the sounds of thousands of crickets chirping, blissfully bereft of car horns and snarling traffic.

After three days of this, the Norwegian Majesty left St George's for the luxurious, rum and reggae-fuelled return voyage back to historic Boston. But, as we sailed away from the land that crime forgot, I knew beyond doubt that, someday, I would have to return.

TRAVELFACTS

* A seven night cruise onboard the Norwegian Majesty from Boston to Bermuda costs from £469pp based on inside cabin, sailing May 8 with Cruise Saver Travel. visit www.cruisesavertravel.com or telephone Freephone 0500 295 384

* Airline Network (ww.airline-network.co.uk) has BA flights from Newcastle to Boston via Heathrow from £497 in May. Phone 0870 700 0514 for details.