70 I N A G U A 



before the dash of the incoming combers and then with a pull 

 and a heave drew the small boat out of the way of the curling 

 surf. Above, the sand graded into a steep slope which we 

 mounted quickly and then strode into the first street of the 

 town. 



The place was a ruin! 



Vacant and broken windows stared at us from tumbled and 

 deserted houses. Roofs careened at crazy angles and through 

 great gaping holes in their surfaces we could see golden splashes 

 of sunlight that filtered into the darkened interiors. Flattened 

 fragments of long deserted garden walls lay in piles where they 

 had fallen, dislodged by the elements, and the flowers of these 

 gardens had long since run riot and were strewn in hopeless 

 profusion in a tangle of weeds and broad padded prickly pear. 



The streets reeked with an air of desolation and economic 

 poverty, an atmosphere that was heightened by the fact that 

 the settlement must have, in a time long past, experienced a 

 wave of prosperity, a period of affluence. For the streets were 

 broad and well laid out, lined with gutters, and house suc- 

 ceeded house in trim design. But that was long ago, for the once 

 painted shutters hung crazily on rusted hinges, had disinte- 

 grated little by little or had dropped into the weeds by the wall 

 edges. Some of the houses lacked shutters altogether, so long 

 had these fallen or crumbled into dust. Through the gaping 

 windows we could see the remnants of smooth floors, barren 

 spaces drifted thick with leaves, broken debris and shingles 

 slipped from the roofs above. Here and there betwixt the 

 ruined buildings were houses still occupied but these, too, like 

 their ruined neighbors, transmitted a feeling of sadness. Only 

 the government building with its bright red shutters gave any 

 hint of prosperity or soHdity. 



Abashed and silent with the sheer poignancy of the ruined 

 village we failed to notice a barefooted mulatto who shuffled 



