There are some features which have been noticed by voyagers, as peculiar to these waters. Whether they do not belong to inland seas, and to bays and gulfs generally, my personal observation does not enable me to determine. The color of the water is a less decided blue than that of the ocean. This phenomenon I am at a loss to explain, having always supposed that the color of the sea was only the reflection of the azure depths of the sky, and that, consequently, in the clear atmosphere, and the deep blue heavens, of the tropics, it would show a deeper tinge of cerulean than elsewhere.
It is also remarked that there is seldom known here, the long equable swell, and gentle undulation, of the open ocean, but a short pitchy sea, which, in small craft, is very disagreeable, but is less noticeable in the larger class of vessels. The gulf is subject to periodical calms in the summer, and to violent gales from the north in the autumnal months. Of the Chapoté, an asphaltic ebullition on the surface of the sea, I shall speak more fully in another place, in connection with a similar phenomenon observed in the lakes of Mexico.
We arrived at Vera Cruz on the 15th of February. The voyage proved agreeable—especially to those of our party who were subject to sea-sickness, and who could therefore well appreciate their entire freedom from the unpalatable, and often ludicrous effects produced by the unceremonious movement of the waves, when uncontrolled by the irresistible agency of steam. Indeed, we all felt strongly convinced, that steam navigation is the ne plus ultra of travelling at sea.
THE PEAK OF ORIZABA.
Long before we made the land, the grand and lofty peak of Orizaba, with its spotless mantle of eternal snow, rearing its hoary head seventeen thousand feet above us, presented itself to our view. The highest ranges of the Alleghanies, and the lofty summits of the Catskill, of my own country, were familiar to my boyish days—but, I was little prepared to behold a scene like this—a scene which caused the wonders of my childhood to dwindle almost into nothing. Art, with all her charms, may, and often does, disappoint us—but Nature, never. The conception of Him who laid the foundations of the mountains, cannot be approached even by the most aspiring flight of the imagination.
CASTLE OF SAN JUAN DE ULLOA.
The first object that strikes the eye, in approaching Vera Cruz by water, is the Castle of San Juan de Ulloa, with the spires and domes of the churches peering up in the distance behind it. It stands alone, upon a small rocky island, on one side of the main entrance to the harbor, and only about half a mile from the wall of the city, and consequently has complete command of the port. The entrance on the other side, is so barred with broken reefs and ledges, that it can only be used by small craft in favorable weather.