Emmanuel Appadocca, Blighted Life: A Tale of the Boucaneers (Complete)

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.

The two skiffs were at a great distance from land. In the haze it was difficult on a hasty glance to distinguish them from the sea; but, on closer observation, they might be discovered to be a small fishing-boat, such as those which are generally seen on the gulf, and a curial, or Indian canoe.

There were three men in the fishing-boat: two who were rowers, and one that was sitting at its stern, and was apparently the master. He was of mixed blood: of that degree known as that of mulatto, and seemingly of Spanish extraction, but his two men were blacks. The men were resting on their oars, the master was occupied in deep sea-fishing, and the boat floated passively on the water. In the Indian canoe there seemed also but three men: one sat at the stern, the other two crouched in the centre, their paddles were carelessly rested on the sides of the light vessel, and the canoe, like the fishing-boat, was permitted to float unsteered on the gulf.

The two skiffs were not far from each other, and as the haze cleared away, the master of the fishing-boat, in the musing calm attendant on quiet fishing, observed to his men, as he dreamingly looked on the canoe—

“Those fellows are Guaragons; I dare say they paddled from the canoe the whole of last night, and they are now taking their breakfast to get up to town before the breeze rises.”

“Yes, sa,” briskly rejoined one of the boatmen; “dey wok all night, all nakid as dey be dey; dey no ’fraid rain, dey no ’fraid sun, but wen dey begin dey wok—wok so—night and day, you see paddle go phshah—phshah—phshah,” here the speaker screwed up his little features to the utmost, in order to express the energy with which the Indians are supposed to paddle, while, at the same time, he endeavoured to imitate the sound of the paddle itself, as it dashes the water.