Accordingly, on the 20th of October, 1876, we embarked on board the “Viri,” a small coasting sloop, and with the mists of the evening, the houses of Progreso faded from our view and were lost in the haze of the horizon. Contrary winds retarded our journey and obliged us to cast anchor near shore every night. It was not until after ten tiresome days that we, at last, saw the dim outline of Mugeres island rise slowly over the waves. As we drew near, the tall and slender forms of the cocoa trees, gracefully waving their caps of green foliage with the breeze, while their roots seemed to spring from the blue waters of the ocean, indicated the spot where the village houses lay on the shore under their umbrage. Seen at a distance, the spot presents quite a romantic aspect. The island is a mere rock, elevated only a few feet above the level of the sea, six miles long and about one-half a mile wide in its widest parts. In some places it is scarcely 200 steps across. The population consists of 500 souls, more or less. Its principal industry is fishing. For Indian corn and beans--the staple articles of food throughout Yucatan--they depend altogether on the main land; vegetables of any kind are an unknown luxury, notwithstanding there are some patches of good vegetable land in the central part. The island possesses a beautiful and safe harbor; at one time it was the haven where the pirates that infested the West Indian seas were wont to seek rest from their hazardous calling. Their names are to be seen to-day rudely carved on the _sapote_ beams that form the lintels of the doorways of the antique shrine whose ruins crown the southernmost point of the island.