Our first impression was that Somoza had arrived, and that a fight was already in progress. The people of the island were also somewhat startled, and for a time watched the town with evident anxiety; but in the end quietly resumed their amusements. Pedro also seemed to be relieved; and after listening for a while, finally exclaimed that all was right: the day, he said, was a _fiesta_, and what we had supposed a discharge of firearms, was only the explosion of “_bombas_” or rockets,—“in point of fact,” fireworks. I cannot say that I was particularly gratified with the information, after having prepared myself for a siege at least, if not an assault. Myriads of bees, attracted by the sweets in the boat, swarmed around us while making our toilet. Their first onset fairly drove us out on the rocks, but Pedro quieted us with the assurance that they were stingless, when we returned and completed our arrangements. It was late in the afternoon, the wind blowing fair, when we again put up sail, and steered for the landing of Granada. As we approached, we discovered hundreds of people on the shore and in the water, some in groups, and others in gay trappings dashing about on horseback,—a picture of activity and life. On the gray walls of the old castle we also discerned soldiers, their muskets glancing in the sun; and, anchored a little distance from the shore, was an odd-looking craft, in two pieces, resembling some awkward canal-boat, which we afterwards discovered had been built to receive the engine and boiler which we had seen in San Juan. In this rude, unwieldy affair, with infinite trouble, and after three weeks of toil, a party of some seventy-five outward-bound Californians had ascended the river and passed the lake to this place,—the pioneers on this line of transit.