180 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
Martinique. Poisonous and venomous, it has yearly 
many victims, and is more feared than the fever, 
for which Castries, St. Lucia’s principal town, is 
celebrated. 
Crossing the channel south of St. Lucia, we arrived 
in the afternoon off the northern end of St. Vincent, 
which, from the steamer’s deck, five miles off shore, 
appeared a dream of an island, suspended between 
sky and sea, yet solid and compact. As we glided 
through the blue waters, and the afternoon sun fell 
upon the island, we could view it from northern to 
southern end, one block of hazy, purple cloud, an 
immense amethyst, with shades and depths that varied 
as the sun lighted up the yellow plains and dark 
mountain-tops, and sought to penetrate the sombre 
valleys and ravines. Behind a curving beach a little 
town showed out, with red-tiled roofs gleaming from 
beneath thick groves of palms, through which a church 
pointed its spire skyward. There were no outlying 
rocks or islands, no jagged cliffs or jutting promon- 
tories, but, springing at once from the sea, every angle 
sharp and clear-cut, the island presented the appear- 
ance of a huge, opaque crystal. Though twenty- 
five miles in length, it appeared so small that one 
might fancy he could row around it in an hour 
or two. 
At five in the afternoon we entered Kingston harbor, 
a bay open to the west and south-west, deep and spa- 
cious enough to float a navy. A sandy beach curves 
from headland to headland, and upon the northern 
promontory, six hundred feet above the bay, is perched 
a fort with massive walls, now used as a light-house 
and signal station. A jetty affords a landing-place 
