After laying at anchor a few hours, we got underway, and stood along the coast for a small place called Santa, which was situated a few leagues to the north of us, Casma is but a poor harbour, as it lies so much exposed to the prevailing southerly winds, that frequently a high and dangerous surf breaks upon that part of the shore where alone (at any time) it is practicable to land. A valley, covered with thickets of reeds and bushes, extends back from the sea for several miles. In it there is neither habitations nor inhabitants, and a sandy waste of hill and dale separates it from the little Indian village of Casma, which is several miles in the interior. It is situated in a valley, about a league in circumference, which is watered by a small stream. The soil is rich, but poorly cultivated. The inhabitants (of whom there is about a thousand) are all Indians. They live in wretched habitations, and their intercourse with the Spaniards for centuries, it seems, has not much improved their condition in any respect. Their principal dependance is upon the sale of their poultry to such ships as visit their harbour for the trade of the interior country, and to people thus engaged, their proximity may sometimes be a very great convenience. The harbour of Santa is formed by several small islands, lying a little to the south of it, and about a mile from the main. We passed between the islands and the main, although it was night, and very dark. On the following morning, we made the customary signal, by firing a gun, which, in a very short time, brought the captain of the port down to the beach. He had not much the appearance of official dignity, having a long black beard, and was in no respect prepossessing. Rude, however, as was his exterior, he was profuse in offers of hospitality. He assured us that we should be abundantly supplied with every thing we wanted, and requested that an officer might be sent with him to Santa, to negociate for our supplies. The purser and myself were ordered upon this service, and not having time to send to Santa for horses, it being six miles from our anchorage, we were reduced to the necessity of a most painful ride, behind the captain of the port and a companion whom he had brought with him. The road was over an uninterrupted plain, which was almost everywhere covered with impenetrable thickets of reeds, and the Algaroba[1], and in some places a foot or two deep with water that had escaped from the streams of the cultivated valley. When we arrived at the door of the commandant's house, he shewed us in with an air of some formality, and welcomed us with every Spanish expression of hospitality. The appearance of the house corresponded well with that of its occupant. It was disgusting in the extreme. There were but two rooms in it, one of which was occupied as a granary and bed-room, and the other as a pulparia,[2] and the ordinary conveniences of the family.