of an Oa'ch/p Hunter 



37 



However, as the Phantom was going full speed, we 

 were not lone- in being out of sight of the Sierra 



Nevada, each one sorry that so beautiful a scene 

 should be so transient. Keeping- along the rugged 

 coast, we were soon in sight of what is called the 

 harbour of Savanilla. If this had been the entrance 

 to the greatest penal settlement in the world it could 

 not have been a more barren and desolate-looking 

 place. As far as the eye could reach nothing was to 

 be seen but bare rocks and sand, and there was not 

 a vestige of a town or even a hut in sight to show 

 that the place was inhabited. The Phantom dropped 

 anchor, I supposed, on speculation, nothing being 

 likely to welcome us but a host of screaming pelicans 

 fishing from the rocks or the crowds of ugly vultures 

 in their strange funereal garb continually wheeling over 

 our heads in search of some corpse. The shallowness 

 and muddy appearance of the water showed that we 

 were really anchored in the delta of the River Magda- 

 lena. Here I intended to disembark, in order to profit 

 by the means of communication which this river 

 affords with the interior of this part of Colombia, but 

 on looking around I must say my ardour was some- 

 what damped. To all appearance this could be no 

 other than the abode of savages. However, consider- 

 ing the old adage that "faint heart never won fair 

 lady," I went below and quickly packed up my traps. 



D* 



