When the morning of the next day broke, I saw that we were running in among reefs, which I could tell by the ripple of the otherwise calm water breaking over them. Ahead was a low sandy shore, mangrove-bushes lining some portion of it, with palms and plantains, and a few other tropical trees, rising beyond them. As we sailed on, threading the glass-like channels, the sun rose higher and higher, and shone down with intense heat on our heads, drawing forth, at the same time, a thin gauze-like mist over the whole scene. "This is a regular trap," observed Peter. "If a man once gets in here, I defy him to find his way out again, unless he was born and bred on the spot." The captain and Mr Gale were watching the progress of the vessel, and tried to look as unconcerned as possible; but they were evidently considering if it were possible to take a vessel out by the way they had come in. At length we entered the mouth of a narrow creek, lined with the mangrove-bushes I have spoken of on either side; some growing in the bright pure water, others with their branches just dipping into the clear liquid, and so distinctly reflected that I could not tell where the real bough ended and its phantom-likeness began. After running on for half a mile, and making frequent turns, we found ourselves in a wide lagoon, several other craft of different sizes and rigs being at anchor in it. On shore, there was a collection of large wooden sheds looking like stores, and some huts, and a few buildings of more pretensions, apparently dwelling-houses. There was nothing like order or regularity in the arrangement of the village; but each store or cottage seemed to have been placed as suited the fancy of the owner, the whole wearing a very nautical, shipwreck appearance. Many of the roofs were formed of the bottoms of boats; sails, with a coating of paint or tar, were nailed over others; and the planks and ribs of vessels had entered largely into the construction of all the edifices. I made these observations as we were shortening sail and coming to an anchor. It was very clearly a pirate stronghold, and had been probably so for some years. The pirates had allowed us to remain on deck and see the approach to it, evidently trusting to the difficulties of the navigation to prevent any of us finding our way out of it, or in again, should we obtain our liberty. Though art had done nothing, nature had done everything to make the place impregnable, unless a pilot could be found to show an enemy the way. Against such a result they had several safeguards: each man of this fraternity had bound himself by an oath not to betray any of their secrets. The Spanish authorities took very little cognisance of them, as their own vessels were not attacked; while at that time the governors of the West India Islands did not trouble themselves much about rooting out piracy; and it was only when some act of especial atrocity had been