“The trouble is we’ll all have to go ashore with the professor, if they let us go ashore at all.”
“Well, we’ll try to think up some scheme,” said the man from Baltimore; and then the subject was changed.
Curaçao is the largest and most important of the Dutch West Indian Islands, with a population of about 25,000 souls. The island is largely of a phosphate nature, and the government derives a handsome income from the sale of this product. To the east of Curaçao is Bonaire, another Dutch possession, and to the west Aruba, all of which are likely to become a part of United States territory in the near future. The islands are of considerable importance, and trade not alone in phosphate of lime but also in salt, beans, dyewoods and fruits.
Early in the morning the dim outlines of Curaçao could be seen and about ten o’clock the steamer glided into the bay of St. Anna, upon which Willemstad, the capital city is located. The harbor is a commodious one, and ships displaying the flags of many nations were on every hand.
“What a pretty town!” exclaimed Mark, as he surveyed the distant shore with a glass. “I declare it looks like some of these old Dutch paintings.”
“This island is famous in history,” said Professor Strong, who stood by. “It was discovered by the Spaniards in 1527. About a hundred years after that the Dutch took it and held it for nearly two hundred years. Then the English came over and wrested it from the Dutch, but had to give it back eight years later, in 1815. The pirates and buccaneers used to find these islands excellent stopping places, and many a political refugee has ended his days on them.”
“Is the capital very large?”
“About fifteen thousand inhabitants.”
“How about going ashore and taking a look around?” questioned Darry. “I’d like first rate to stretch my legs on land once more.”
“Oh, yes, do let us go ashore?” pleaded Frank. “The steamer is going to stay five or six hours, and that will give us loads of time for looking around.”