The crew of the barge were despatched on shore to explore the premises,
while we, as a _corps-de-reserve_, lay on our oars, with fire-arms
loaded, ready for any emergency. While waiting I had an opportunity of
surveying the magnificent scene around me. We lay in the deep shadow of
a beetling precipice of such immense altitude, that the snow-white
morning clouds, as they floated onward, like messengers from heaven,
swept its summit. Thousands of gray sea-birds were sailing around their
eyries, along its dark craggy sides far above us, while its hollow
recesses reverberated their shrill cries, till to our ears they sounded
like one continued scream. The cliffs all around were tumbled about in
the most chaotic confusion, as if they had been upheaved by some
tremendous throe of nature. Stinted forest trees and brush wood, with
here and there a wild locust or banana, had gained a footing in the
seams and fissures of the crags, and thick masses of the lusty mountain
creepers, intertwined with wild flowering jessamin and grenadilla, fell
in gorgeous festoons down the embattled heights, draping their rough
projections in robes of the most magnificent woof. Nearly opposite was a
yawning ravine, filled with myriads of huge, shattered trees, ragged
stumps, loose stones and gravel, which probably had been swept from the
mountains, by the foaming torrents that rush down to the sea in the
rainy months. The desolation of this scene was in a measure relieved by
the quick springing vegetation that had found sustenance among the
decayed trunks, and in the black earth that still adhered to the matted
roots; so that green foliage, and wild flowers of the most brilliant
dies in sumptuous profusion, were waving and nodding over prostrate
trees, which perchance a year before, had stood up in the pride of
primeval lustihood, on the mountain ridges. Further back, beyond this
gorge, the sloping steeps were clothed with dark waving forests,
stretching up their sides, till they faded into the blue haze resting on
the mountain summits. The freshness of early day had not yet been
dissipated. Among the undergrowth and brakes, on the tips of the tall,
sweeping guinea grass, and in the cups of the wild flowers, the pure
dews hung in glittering globules, sparkling with brilliant prismatic
tints, as they flashed back the glances of the rising sun. Calmness and
repose reigned over the unequalled sublimities of the place; and
although the billows were madly beating and roaring against the outer
base of the crescent-like promontory, within, the water was silent and
unruffled by a breath, reflecting in its depths the wild and gorgeous
array of rock and verdure around, almost as unwavering as reality
itself; and had it not been for the tiny wavelets that rippled up a
small sandy beach, adorning the water's edge with a narrow frill of
foam, its likeness to a broad sheet of glass had been perfect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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