Chap. XI. OMOA. 179 
we cast anchor in front of the old castle, which stands as 
a monument of Spanish greatness as well as of its decay, 
and as a memento mori to the race on which the inherit- 
ance of the latter alone seems to have devolved. A large 
shed under the wall is the custom-house of the port. In 
its shade a dozen of idlers of both sexes, stretched on the 
ground, or swinging in their hammocks to the sleepy notes 
of an accordion, were recovering from the toils of their 
vocation. During a conversation with the director of the 
customs — or " Ministro de la Aduana" as his title runs — I 
was indiscreet enough to ask how many soldiers were in 
the castle ; when that high dignitary fixed a piercing eye 
upon me, and " Sir ! " — he answered with a strong accent 
— " the whole coast is sufficiently guarded by the military 
force of this republic ! " My innocent curiosity had ex- 
cited his suspicion, and he tried to discourage me in case 
I should be connected with some filibustering scheme to 
take possession of the fortress by a coup de main. The 
garrison, I learned the next day, consisted of twenty men, 
but, if it was not strong in numbers, it was at least potent 
in drumming. After we had been some weeks at Omoa, 
and suspicions had subsided, I not only received permis- 
sion to see the interior of the castle, but the comandante 
himself came to accompany us with all the politeness of 
a Hispano-American cavallero. 
But to return to the moment of our arrival — we were 
waiting for the boat to bring us on shore, when a man with 
the fair complexion of a northerner, in company with a black 
beauty, came on board, and while Miss Lucinda embraced 
our captain, Mr. F. addressed us with the cordial and 
good-natured air of a German mechanic. " You are Ger- 
mans, I hear," he said. " Have you come to see Hon- 
duras ? O moa is a fine place, I assure you, and a very 
2 n 
