The breeze, towards noon of the following day, had come up in a gentle
air from the westward, and we were gliding along before it like a spread
eagle, with all our light sails abroad to catch the sweet zephyr, which
was not even strong enough to ruffle the silver surface of the
landlocked sea, that glowed beneath the blazing midday sun, with a
dolphin here and there cleaving the shining surface with an arrowy
ripple, and a brown--skinned shark glaring on us, far down in the deep,
clear, green profound, like a water fiend, and a slow--sailing pelican
overhead, after a long sweep on poised wing, dropping into the sea like
lead, and flashing up the water like the bursting of a shell, as we
sailed up into a glorious amphitheatre of stupendous mountains, covered
with one eternal forest, that rose gradually from the hot sandy plains
that skirted the shore; while what had once been smiling fields, and
rich sugar plantations, in the long misty level districts at their
bases, were now covered with brushwood, fast rising up into one
impervious thicket; and as the Island of Conave closed in the view
behind us to seaward, the sun sank beyond it, amidst rolling masses of
golden and blood--red clouds, giving token of a goodly day to--morrow,
and gilding the outline of the rocky islet (as if to a certain depth it
had been transparent) with a golden halo, gradually deepening into
imperial purple. Beyond the shadow of the tree--covered islet, on the
left hand, rose the town of Port--au--Prince, with its long streets
rising like terraces on the gently swelling shore, while the mountains
behind it, still gold tipped in the declining sunbeams, seemed to impend
frowningly over it, and the shipping in the roadstead at anchor off the
town were just beginning to fade from our sight in the gradually
increasing darkness, and a solitary light began to sparkle in a cabin
window and then disappear, and to twinkle for a moment in the piazzas of
the houses on shore like a will--of--the--wisp, and the chirping buzz of
myriads of insects and reptiles was coming off from the island a--stem
of us, borne on the wings of the light wind, which, charged with rich
odours from the closing flowers, fanned us "like the sweet south, soft
breathing o'er a bed of violets," when a sudden flash and a jet of white
smoke puffed out from the hill--fort above the town, the report
thundering amongst the everlasting hills, and gradually rumbling itself
away into the distant ravines and valleys, like a lion growling itself
to sleep, and the shades of night fell on the dead face of nature like a
pall, and all was undistinguishable.
Pages:
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665