26 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



Every day it blends into sky so softly that all seems 

 sky, or all maybe sea. Is the sky blue, so is the sea ; 

 is it smoky pearl, the sea is dim, and hides its face 

 beneath a hazy cloud. A cloudy day, with the sun 

 shining on the water from behind the clouds, turning 

 the sea to burnished and glistening silver, is as puz- 

 zling as a day with sky of clearest ether, for the sun, 

 reflected from the glowing surface of the sea, dissipates 

 the line of demarkation in the glare of the reflection. 



There are times when the sea does not rise up to 

 meet the sky, but spreads out miles and miles, until I 

 almost fancy I can see to Aves Island — that solitary 

 island far west in the Caribbean Sea, where a colony 

 of birds breed on the sands. The best view is ob- 

 tained at sunset ; then, whether the bright orb dis- 

 appears behind the mountains without a cloud, or 

 whether he leaves a threatening array, clad in armor 

 of gold and silver, the horizon line is well defined. 

 At moonlight also, when mountains and valleys are 

 but gradations in depth of shadow, the sea reposes 

 peacefully beneath moon and stars, content to rest 

 itself as a sea, and claiming no affinity with the vault 

 above. 



It seems to me that it changes every time I look 

 upon it — pearl-blue, silver shot with gold, hazy 

 depths, from which no light is shown, and again a sea 

 of deepest ether. It has never been otherwise than 

 calm and placid, though the fierce winds that some- 

 times sweep down from these mountains and dive into 

 the valleys are enough to ruffle the tranquillity of any 

 sea. Indeed, it is a well-known fact that vessels are 

 often becalmed under the lee of these Caribbee islands 

 for days together, and there is not even a swell to 



