Morning over the Caribbean Sea,--a calm, extremely dark-blue sea. There
are lands in sight,--high lands, with sharp, peaked, unfamiliar
outlines.
We passed other lands in the darkness: they no doubt resembled the
shapes towering up around us now; for these are evidently volcanic
creations,--jagged, coned, truncated, eccentric. Far off they first
looked a very pale gray; now, as the light increases, they change hue a
little,--showing misty greens and smoky blues. They rise very sharply
from the sea to great heights--the highest point always with a cloud
upon it;--they thrust out singular long spurs, push up mountain shapes
that have an odd scooped-out look. Some, extremely far away, seem, as
they catch the sun, to be made of gold vapor; others have a madderish
tone: these are colors of clouds. The closer we approach them, the more
do tints of green make themselves visible. Purplish or bluish masses of
coast slowly develop green surfaces; folds and wrinkles of land turn
brightly verdant. Still, the color gleams as through a thin fog.
... The first tropical visitor has just boarded our ship: a wonderful
fly, shaped like a common fly, but at least five times larger. His body
is a beautiful shining black; his wings seem ribbed and jointed with
silver, his head is jewel-green, with exquisitely cut emeralds for eyes.
Islands pass and disappear behind us. The sun has now risen well; the
sky is a rich blue, and the tardy moon still hangs in it. Lilac tones
show through the water. In the south there are a few straggling small
white clouds,--like a long flight of birds. A great gray mountain shape
looms up before us. We are steaming on Santa Cruz.
The island has a true volcanic outline, sharp and high: the cliffs sheer
down almost perpendicularly. The shape is still vapory, varying in
coloring from purplish to bright gray; but wherever peaks and spurs
fully catch the sun they edge themselves with a beautiful green glow,
while interlying ravines seem filled with foggy blue.
As we approach, sunlighted surfaces come out still more luminously
green. Glens and sheltered valleys still hold blues and grays; but
points fairly illuminated by the solar glow show just such a fiery green
as burns in the plumage of certain humming-birds. And just as the
lustrous colors of these birds shift according to changes of light, so
the island shifts colors here and there,--from emerald to blue, and blue
to gray.... But now we are near: it shows us a lovely heaping of high
bright hills in front,--with a further coast-line very low and long and
verdant, fringed with a white beach, and tufted with spidery
palm-crests. Immediately opposite, other palms are poised; their trunks
look like pillars of unpolished silver, their leaves shimmer like
bronze.
... The water of the harbor is transparent and pale green. One can see
many fish, and some small sharks. White butterflies are fluttering about
us in the blue air. Naked black boys are bathing on the beach;--they
swim well, but will not venture out far because of the sharks. A boat
puts off to bring colored girls on board. They are tall, and not
uncomely, although very dark;--they coax us, with all sorts of endearing
words, to purchase bay rum, fruits, Florida water.... We go ashore in
boats. The water of the harbor has a slightly fetid odor.