At dawn on the 16th of July 1799 we saw the green, picturesque coast. The mountains of Nueva Andalucia, hidden in clouds, bordered the horizon. The city of Cumana, with its fort, stood in coconut groves. At nine in the morning, after forty-one days at sea, we anchored in the harbor. The sick crawled on deck to comfort themselves with the vision of a land where they hoped they would be cured.