The Captain now rose to depart. I accompanied him on deck, and when he had shoved off, I ordered the ship to be gotten under way--the fires having been started some time before, the steam was already up. The _Sumter_, as she moved out of the harbor of the Port of Spain, looked more like a comfortable passenger steamer, bound on a voyage, than a ship of war, her stern nettings, and stern and quarter boats being filled with oranges, and bananas, and all the other luscious fruits that are produced so abundantly in this rich tropical island. Other luxuries were added, for Jack had brought, on board, one or two more sad-looking old monkeys, and a score more of squalling parrots.
ON THE WAY TO MARANHAM--THE WEATHER AND THE WINDS--THE SUMTER RUNS SHORT OF COAL, AND IS OBLIGED TO "BEAR UP"--CAYENNE AND PARAMARIBO, IN FRENCH AND DUTCH GUIANA--SAILS AGAIN, AND ARRIVES IN MARANHAM, BRAZIL.
We passed out of the Gulf of Paria, through the eastern, or Mona passage, a deep strait, not more than a third of a mile in width, with the land rising, on both sides, to a great height, almost perpendicularly. The water of the Orinoco here begins to mix with the sea-water, and the two waters, as they come into unwilling contact, carry on a perpetual struggle, whirling about in small circles, and writhing and twisting like a serpent in pain.
We met the first heave of the sea at about two o'clock in the afternoon, and turning our head again to the eastward, we continued to run along the mountainous and picturesque coast of Trinidad, until an hour or two after nightfall. The coast is quite precipitous, but, steep as it is, a number of negro cabins had climbed the hill-sides, and now revealed their presence to us by the twinkle of their lights, as the shades of evening fell over the scene. These cabins were quite invisible, by daylight, so dense was the foliage of the trees amid which they nestled. This must, indeed, be the very paradise of the negro. The climate is so genial, that he requires little or no clothing, and bountiful Nature supplies him with food, all the year round, almost unasked. In this land of the sun, a constant succession of fruits is pendent from the trees, and the dwellers in the huts beneath their sheltering arms, have only to reach out their hands when hunger presses. I was reminded, by this scene, of a visit I had once made to the island of St. Domingo, and of the indolence in which the negro lives in that soft and voluptuous climate. I landed at the bay of Samana, from the ship of war to which I was attached, and taking a stroll, one evening, I came upon the hut of an American negress. Some years before, Boyer, the President of the island, had invited the immigration of free negroes, from the United States. A colony from the city of Baltimore had accepted his invitation, and settled at Samana. In the course of a very few years, all the men of the colony had run off, and found their way back, in various capacities, on board of trading vessels, to the land of their birth; leaving their wives and daughters behind to shift for themselves. The negro woman, whose hut I had stumbled upon, was one of these grass widows. She had become quite old, but was living without apparent effort. The cocoanut waved its feathery branches over her humble domicil, and the juicy mango and fragrant banana hung within tempting reach. A little plot of ground had been picketed in with crooked sticks, and in this primitive garden were growing some squashes and watermelons, barely visible under the rank weeds. I said to her, "My good woman, you don't seem to have much use for the plough or the hoe in your garden." "La! master," said she, "no need of much work in this country--we have only to put in the seed, and the Lord, _he_ gives the increase."