“——— kind before him send
The genial breeze, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world,”
the heat would be insupportable.
The meridian height of the thermometer, during this season, is, in the shade, about 80°, and the other parts of the year 70°; but I have observed the mercury to be, from the end of June to the end of August, from 86° to 90°, and often even higher. The sun is vertical at Antigua on the 7th of May and the 5th of August; and consequently on those days the inhabitants are ascii at noon.
September, and the two succeeding months, are generally reckoned the most unhealthy periods of the year. At one moment, the sun darts its rays with an intensity almost insupportable, while the sea-breeze (that friend to sufferers from “all-conquering heat”) dies away, and a slothful calm prevails; at other times, the sun is hidden by black portentous clouds; the air is chilly and unwholesome, and rank and noxious vapours are abroad.
The longest day consists of about 13 hours; the shortest about ten. In these latitudes, there is scarcely any aurora, or twilight, so that it is scarcely light until the sun is up, and soon after he sets, it becomes dark.
Suffering as the inhabitants do, from the great heat of the days, the delightful evenings are particularly enjoyed. No sooner has the sun hidden his rays in the bosom of the ocean, than the land-breeze arises; this, blowing as it were from the centre of the island, towards the sea, appears to come from all points of the compass at once. Evening is the time for walking; and often have I seen beautiful faces, and bright eyes, gleaming in the moonbeams.
Every author who has written about these “sunburnt isles,” has, I think, mentioned the beauties of a West Indian night, and well worthy is it to be praised. The sky is of a deeper and more lovely blue, almost approximating to violet; and the atmosphere is so much clearer than in England, that many stars are visible to the naked eye which there require the aid of a telescope. The larger planets glitter with a refulgence unknown to more temperate latitudes—
“With purest ray,
Sweet Venus shines,”
and appears almost like another moon. Mars rolls on in eternal solitude, shewing his broad red face to our wondering gaze. Bright-eyed Jove, with his “atmospheric belt,” almost blinds us with his lustre; while the galaxy (or milky way) looks like—
“A circling zone, powder’d with stars;”