CHAPTER HI. 



BARRANQUILLA. 



Monday, June 20, 1892. I looked out of the porthole of our 

 little stateroom by daybreak this morning, and although I could 

 see no land on account of a heavy mist, I knew that we were near 

 the delta of the Magdalena. The sea was very muddy for many 

 miles and covered with floating water plants and driftwood. In a 

 short time the mist lifted and we began to catch little glimpses of 

 the Colombian coast. We soon got our things together and came 

 on deck, all excitement at the prospect of landing in a few hours. 

 We finally came to anchor at half past eight about a mile from the 

 land at Puerto Colombia. Savanilla was formerly the port, but 

 the shifting sands have filled in the deep water there, so now the 

 landing is several miles farther to the west. The harbor is a very 

 exposed one, and I should think dangerous. There were several 

 German and English steamers lying at anchor. We were shortly 

 visited by the inspector of the port in a little cockle-shell of a tug 

 with an excruciatingly shrill whistle, and about nine o'clock we got 

 aboard of her and were taken ashore. On the tug were several 

 passengers who had come from one of the other steamers, and on 

 our way to the shore I made the acquaintance of one of them, a Mr. 

 Lindauer of New York, engaged in business in Bogota. Afterwards 

 we saw a good deal of each other, and as he was familiar with the 

 country, he was of great assistance to us on a number of occasions, 

 and went to a great deal of trouble to help us. 



We finally reached the landing, which was nothing but a feAV 

 extremely slippery boards nailed to some worm-eaten piles in the 



