The lower strata of air, from the ground to some 20 feet up, are invaded by poisonous insects, like thick clouds. If you stand in a dark place, such as a cave formed by granite blocks in the cataracts, and look towards the sunlit opening you will see actual clouds of mosquitoes that get thicker or thinner according to the density of insects. I doubt that there is another country on earth where man suffers more cruelly during the rainy season than here. When you leave latitude the biting lessens, but in the Upper Orinoco it becomes more painful because it is hotter, and there is absolutely no wind so your skin becomes more irritated. 'How good it would be to live on the moon, a Saliva Indian said. 'It is so beautiful and clear that it must be free of mosquitoes. (104)

Having given up hope of the mail-boat from Spain we boarded an American ship loaded with salt for Cuba. We had spent sixteen months on this coast and in the interior of Venezuela. On the 16th of November we left our Cumanà friends to cross the Gulf of Cariaco for Nueva Barcelona for the third time. The sea breeze was strong and after six hours we anchored off the Morro of Nueva Barcelona, where a ship was waiting to take us to Havana. (135)

In the mountainous regions we have just crossed, Indians form half the population of the provinces of Cumanà and New Barcelona. Their number can be calculated at some 60,000, of which some 24, live in New Andalusia. The Indians of Cumanà do not all live in the mission villages. Some are dispersed around the cities, along the coasts, attracted by fishing, and some in the small farms on the llanos or plains. Some 15, Indians, all belonging to the Chaima tribe, live in the Aragonese Capuchin missions we visited. However, their villages are not as densely populated as in New Barcelona province. Their average population is only 500 to 600, while more to the west, in the Franciscan missions of Piritu, there are Indian villages with up to 3, inhabitants. If I calculated the Indian population in the provinces of Cumanà and New Barcelona to be some 60, I included only those living on Terra Firma, not the Guaiquerí on Margarita Island, nor the great number of independent Guaraunos living in the Orinoco delta islands. Their number is estimated, perhaps exaggeratedly, at some 6, to 8,000. Apart from Guaraunos families seen now and then in the marshes (Los Morichales), which are covered with moriche palms, for the last thirty years there have been no wild Indians living in New Andalusia.

Frightened about being exposed too long to the unhealthy Cartagena airs we moved to the Indian village of Turbaco (once called Tarasco) on the 6th of April. It is situated in a delicious place where the jungle begins some 5 leagues south-south-east of Pipa. We were happy to leave a foul inn (fonda) packed with soldiers left over from General Rochambeau's unfortunate expedition. (144) Interminable discussions about the need to be cruel to the blacks of Santo Domingo reminded me of the opinions and horrors of the sixteenth-century conquistadores. Pombo lent us his beautiful house in Turbaco, built by Archbishop Viceroy Gòngora. We stayed as long as it took us to prepare for our journey up the Magdalena, and then the long land trip from Honda to Bogotà, Popoyàn and Quito. Few stays in the Tropics have pleased me more. The village lies some 180 toises above sea-level. Snakes are very common and chase rats into the houses. They climb on to roofs and wage war with the bats, whose screaming annoyed us all night. The Indian huts covered a steep plateau so that everywhere you can view shady valleys watered by small streams. We especially enjoyed being on our terrace at sunrise and sunset as it faced the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, some 35 leagues distant. The snow-covered peaks probably San Lorenzo - are clearly seen from Turbaco when the wind blows and brings cooler air. Thick vegetation covers the hills and plains between the Mahates dyke and the snowy mountains: they often reminded us of the beautiful Orinoco mountains. We were surprised to find, so close to the coast in a land frequented by Europeans for over three centuries, gigantic trees belonging to completely unknown species, such as the Rhinocarpus excelsa (which the creoles call caracoli because of its spiral-shaped fruit), the Ocotea turbacensis and the mocundo or Cavanillesia platanifolia, whose large fruit resemble oiled paper lanterns hanging at the tip of each branch.

From the Manimi rock there is a marvelous view. Your eyes survey a foaming surface that stretches away for almost 2 leagues. In the middle of the waves rocks as black as iron, like ruined towers, rise up. Each island, each rock, is crowned by trees with many branches; a thick cloud floats above the mirror of the water and through it you see the tops of tall palms. What name shall we give these majestic plants? I guess that they are vadgiai, a new species, more than 80 feet high. Everywhere on the backs of the naked rocks during the rainy season the noisy waters have piled up islands of vegetation. Decorated with ferns and flowering plants these islands form flower-beds in the middle of exposed, desolate rocks. At the foot of the Manimi rock, where we had bathed the day before, the Indians killed a 7. snake, which we examined at leisure. The Macos called it a camudu. It was beautiful, and not poisonous. I thought at first that it was a boa, and then perhaps a python. I say 'perhaps' for a great naturalist like Cuvier appears to say that pythons belong to the Old World, and boas to the New. I shall not add to the confusions in zoological naming by proposing new changes, but shall observe that the missionaries and the latinized Indians of the mission clearly distinguish the tragavenado (boa) from the culebra de agua, which is like the camudu.

The mail-boats (correos) that cross from La Coruìa to Havana and Mexico had been due for over three months. It was thought they had been attacked by English ships near by. I was in a hurry to reach Cumanà and cross to Veracruz so on the 26th of August I hired an open boat called a lancha. This lancha smuggled cocoa to the island of Trinidad, so its owner was not afraid of the enemy ships blockading the Spanish ports. We loaded our plants, instruments and monkeys and hoped that it would be but a short journey from the mouth of the Neveri river to Cumanà. But no sooner were we in the narrow canal that separates the mainland from the rocky islands of Borracha and Chimanas than we bumped into an armed ship, which ordered us to stop, and fired a round at us from far off. The boat belonged to a pirate from Halifax. By his accent and build I recognized a Prussian from Memel among his crew. Since I had been in America I had not once spoken my mother tongue, and would have preferred a more peaceful opportunity to do so. But my protests were to no avail, and we were led aboard the pirate ship. They ignored the passports issued by the governor of Trinidad allowing cocoa smuggling, and considered us a lawful prize. As I spoke English fairly well I was, able to bargain with the captain, and stopped him from taking us to Nova Scotia by persuading him to put us ashore on the nearest Coast. While I was arguing about our rights in the' cabin I heard a noise on deck. A sailor rushed in and whispered something to the captain, who left quite upset. Luckily for us an English warship (the Hawk) was also passing by. It had signaled the pirate boat, but on receiving no answer had shot a round of artillery and sent a midshipman aboard. He was a polite young man who led me to hope that our lancha with its cocoa would be released. He invited me to accompany him, assuring me that Captain John Gamier of the Royal Navy could offer better accommodation than the ship from Halifax.

Although the captain of the Pizarro had orders to remain long enough at Tenerife to allow us to climb the peak, snow permitting, he let us know that the English ships' blockade meant that we could not count on a stay of more than four or five days. So we hurried to the port of Orotova on the western slope of the volcano where we hoped to find guides. Nobody in Santa Cruz had ever climbed to the summit of the mountain.