We spent a long time in examining the fine resinous and fragrant
plants of the Pejual. Wandering in this thick wood we suddenly found
ourselves enveloped in a thick mist; the compass alone could guide
us; but in advancing northward we were in danger at every step of
finding ourselves on the bank of that enormous wall of rocks, which
descends perpendicularly to the depth of six thousand feet towards
the sea. We were obliged to halt. Surrounded by clouds sweeping
the ground, we began to doubt whether we should reach the eastern
peak before night. Happily the negroes who carried our water and
provisions rejoined us, and we resolved to take some refreshment.
Our repast did not last long. Possibly the Capuchin brother had not
thought of the great number of persons who accompanied us, or perhaps
the slaves had made free with our provisions on the way; be that as
it may, we found nothing but olives and scarcely any bread. Horace,
in his retreat at Tibur, never boasted of a repast more light and
frugal; but olives, which might have offered a satisfactory meal to
a poet, devoted to study, and leading a sedentary life, appeared an
aliment by no means substantial for travellers climbing mountains.
We had watched the greater part of the night, and we walked for nine
hours without finding a single opening. Our guides were discouraged;
they wished to go back, and we had great difficulty in preventing
them. We sent off half our servants with orders to hasten the next
morning to meet us, not with olives, but with salt beef.