6 THE VOYAGE. 



I had both heard and read of a formidable 

 fortress that once guarded the entrance to the 

 snug harbour, on one side of which stands the 

 neat little town of Santa Marta, embowered 

 amidst the trees. We sighted the land before 

 it was dark, but the captain deemed it ex- 

 pedient to lay-off and await the daylight, ere 

 venturing through the narrow entrance between 

 the rock on which stands the remains of the for- 

 tress and the mainland. Issuing strict orders, 

 coupled with a silver refresher, to my cabin-boy 

 to call me before daylight, I turned in, and was 

 soon in dreamland; my dreams were dispelled 

 by a sudden shake, and the voice of the faithful 

 darkle boy screaming into my ear, ' Hi, massa, 

 him no see fort if him no tumble out and tumble 

 up pretty quick.' Lightly clad and hardly 

 awake, I rush, glass in hand, on deck, and 

 quietly seat myself in the bow of the steamer. 

 It was just in the grey of the morning; not a 

 sound disturbed the deathlike silence, save the 

 ' splash-splash ' of the slowly-revolving paddle- 

 wheels. I could discern on my right a dim line 

 of trees, that looked as if they grew from, out the 

 water; on my left the dark rock, crowned with 

 its ruined fort, that, as the light increased and 

 the rays of the rising sun slanted down upon it, 



