EMMANUEL APPADOCCA;
OR,
BLIGHTED LIFE.
CHAPTER I.
“Plots have I laid; inductions dangerous,”—
Richard III.
Between the north-west coast of Venezuela and the island of Trinidad there lies an extensive expanse of water, known as the Gulf of Paria:—a name which it has derived from the neighbouring Spanish coast.
At first sight this gulf presents to the eye the appearance of a vast lake. On the north, east, and south, it is bordered by the dark mountains of Trinidad: while, on the opposite side the cloud-capt Andes, which terminate in that direction, rear their towering heads, and present a lofty western boundary.
The gulf, thus narrowly surrounded on all sides, communicates with the great Atlantic ocean only by two narrow outlets, which are situated at its northern and southern extremities, and are respectively named “the Dragon’s, and the Serpent’s Mouth.” It is by these narrow straits, as the reader will have already gathered, that Trinidad is separated from the mainland of South America. Shielded as they are by these elevated boundaries, the waters of the gulf are ever calm and placid. The hurricanes which periodically ravage the adjacent regions, never sweep their quiet surface: and ships from the ports of the neighbouring colonies usually avail themselves of the protection afforded by this sheltered haven, and safely ride away the tempestuous months on its smooth expanse.
The scenery around this gulf is extremely picturesque and beautiful. Small green islands are dispersed here and there, and seem to float gaily on the bosom of the slumbering waters; the forest-clothed mountains that beetle from above, cast their lengthy shadows far and wide, and the diving birds that continually ply the wing over the reflecting surface, throw into the scene some of the choicest features of romantic beauty.
It was here, that, on a lovely morning in the month of March, two skiffs might barely be seen floating quietly far, far away at sea.
It was as yet early: the gray mist of the tropical morning was just melting away before the rays of the rising sun, that was fast ascending from behind the mountains in the east; a thin haze, nevertheless, was still left surrounding every object. Scarcely a ripple as yet marked the gulf, and in the quiet of the hour might be heard the waking haloos of the mariners on board their ships in the harbour of Port of Spain, as they summoned each other to the labours of the day.