This was Habitation Bellevue, formerly the location 

 of one of the many wealthy plantations which had dotted 

 this fertile plain. It was near here, in the bed of the river, 

 that the Columbus-type anchor now in Port-au-Prince had 

 been found nearly two hundred years before. 



M. Beck stopped before one of the thatched cottages 

 to make inquiries of an old man who volunteered to show 

 us the rest of the way to Limonade Bord de Mer. He 

 crowded into the front seat with the two Beck men, and 

 we left the clearing to enter a thicket of lacy logwood 

 trees, their feet buried in flat, clayhke soil. 



Emerging from these woods, we were confronted by 

 a wide channel of water cutting directly across the road. 

 Here we had to leave the car and set out on foot, crossing 

 the shallow water by means of some logs which lay at 

 one side of the road. It was evident from the ebbing flow 



o 



of the water that this was an arm of the sea reaching back 

 into the interior. 



We followed the path across a wide stretch of sahne 

 flats and then into a tangle of mesquite. The ground be- 

 came softer and swampier, and the path meandered into 

 a large patch of mangrove, its edges splashed with colorful 

 sea grape. Here strong sea breezes sweeping across the low 

 bushes cooled our heated bodies. 



A group of ragged Haitians passed us, carrying water 

 on their heads in a variety of containers, their feet splash- 

 ing through the salty mud of the path. We had taken to 

 the more soHd ground alongside, but soon found that if 

 we would continue to the beach, we would have to wade 

 through the muck also. Fortunately, an obhging native 

 with a machete came along just then and solved our prob- 

 lem by cutting enough mangrove branches to make a dry 

 path across the ooze. 



At last we came out on the narrow beach. The coarse 

 brown sand was httered with debris from the sea. A few 



Search for the Santa Maria 201 



