The location of the town of Santa Cruz is similar to La °, the busiest port in the province of Caracas. The heat is excessive in both places, but Santa Cruz is sadder. On a deserted sandy beach, houses of a dazzling white with flat roofs and windows without panes lie close to a rocky cliff stripped of vegetation. A fine stone quay and public walk planted with poplars are the only attraction in that monotonous picture. From Santa Cruz the peak seems far less picturesque than it does from the port of Orotava. There a smiling and richly cultivated plain contrasts with the wild appearance of the volcano. From the groves of palm and banana trees on the shore to the region of strawberry trees, laurels and pine the volcanic rock is covered with luxuriant vegetation. It is easy to see why the inhabitants of the beautiful climates of Greece and Italy thought they had discovered one of the Fortunate Isles on the western part of Tenerife. The eastern Santa Cruz side is everywhere marked with sterility.

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.

One place where spiky cacti of great size grow together is almost impossible to walk through. These areas, known as tunales, not only prevent bare-chested Indians from entering, but also anyone fully dressed. During our solitary walks we tried several times to penetrate the tunal that crowns the hill with the fort, along which runs a path. There we found thousands of examples of this strange plant. At times nightfall surprised us as there is no twilight. Then this place becomes dangerous, for the rattlesnake (Crotalus cumanensis), the coral and other poisonous snakes seek out these hot places to deposit their eggs in the sand.

The view from Imposible is even more beautiful and extensive than that from the tableland of Quetepe. With our naked eyes we could easily pick out the flattened top of the Brigantín, whose exact geographic position must be verified, the landing-place and Cumanà outer harbor. The rocky coast of Araya stretched our before us. We were particularly struck by the extraordinary structure of the harbor known as Laguna Grande, or Laguna del Obispo. A vast basin, surrounded by high mountains, communicates with the Gulf of Cariaco via a narrow canal along which only one boat at a time may pass. With our eyes we traced the sinuosities of this arm of sea, which has dug a bed like a river between perpendicular rocks stripped of vegetation. This extraordinary view reminded us of the fantastic landscape that Leonardo da Vinci painted in the background of his famous portrait of Mona Lisa.

The Caribs have so dominated such a large part of the continent that the memory of their ancient grandeur has left them with a dignity and national superiority that is obvious in their manners and way of speaking. 'We alone are a tribe, they say proverbially, 'the others (oquili) are here to serve us. This scorn that Caribs have for their old enemies is so accentuated that I have seen a ten-year-old child froth with rage when called a Cabre or a Cavere. Yet he had never seen anyone from such a tribe, decimated by the Caribs after a long resistance. Among half-civilized tribes, as much as in civilized Europe, we find similar deep-seated hates where the names of enemy people have passed into language as the worst kind of insult.

On the 21st of May we again entered the bed of the Orinoco, 3 leagues above the Esmeralda mission. It had been a month since we had left this river near the mouth of the Guaviare. We still had 750 leagues to navigate as far as Angostura, but it was downstream, and this made the thought less painful. Going downstream you follow the middle of the river bed where there are less mosquitoes. Going upstream you are forced to stick close to the banks, to benefit from eddies and counter-currents, where the jungle and organic detritus thrown up on the beaches attract insects of the Tipulary family. The point where the Orinoco bifurcates is incredibly imposing. High granitic mountains rise on the northern shore, among them the Maraguaca and the Duida. There are no mountains at all on the left bank, or to the west or east as far as the mouth of the Tamatama. (118)