Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1900-02-06

We moored in thirty-three ia HONS
water, about half a mile frolo the
shore. which In most places is steep
with green and lovely slopes rising
high above 1t. As Capt Weston pro
posed to weigh next morning, lie al
lowed me to go ashore. but sent with !
me, to be guide and companion. Tom
Lambourne, the tattooed sailor, who
had been frequently before at the
Grand Canary, and in whom he repos-
ed great trust.
He gave me courier bag containing
some provisions, flask of spirits, and
a telescope; and thus provided, old
Tom and l, with such emotions oi
pleasure as two newly escaped school
boys might feel, landed on the shore,
which seemed to heave, sink, and rise
under my feet-for after the late storm
l still felt that which is termed the
roll of the ship"
1t was in this harbor of Santa Cruz
that the famous old English Admiral
Blake encountered, and within six
hours burned and sunk seven great
Spanish galleons. though they were
anchored under the protecting cannon
of seven forts and strong castle. In
the walls of which some Of his shot
were shown imbedded for many years
after.
cast longing eyes to the summit Of
the mighty Peak of Adam. 1t seemed
to rise sheer from the sea, over which,
literally piercing the clouds, 1t towers
tn ha hat -
thousand feet; but the idea of attempt
ing to climb 1t within so short space
OF time as we had to spend on shore
never occurred to me, but what feat
1t would have been to relate when l
returned to Erlesmere
The morning was early yet; the sun
was barely above the now cloudless
| horizon; so the shadow of this stupen-
| dous cone was cast not only over the,
whole island, which seems to form
merely its base, but to the far. horizon,
perhaps beyond it; for there are writ
ers who assert that in clear weather
Cape Bojadore, that dreary and bar
rem promontory of Africa, ninety miles
distant, is visible from its summit
Did the waves Of the sea ever over
flow that mighty peak? At such a
question the mind becomes lost in
conjecture.
AS l am not writing a descriptive
book Of travels, but merely a plain
narrative of my own very recent ad-
ventures, l need not detail at great
length, either the magnitude or the as
pect of this great island mountain of
the Atlantic.
From cliffs of darl-brown basalt,
against which the ocean pours in vain
its foam and fury, we assembled the
steep slope of the volcano for a few
miles. Then at our feet, as it were
we could see that fertile island, where
a perpetual spring seems to smile, and
where the fragrant myrtle, the COLDER
orange trees and the dark funerea
, expresses form the mere hedgerows O.
those plantations where the sugar
cane, the broad leaved plantain, tn,
luscious Indian fig. the trailing vine
the fragrant cinnamon, and the prett,
coffee bush, were all furnishing in
luxuriance that filled us with wonde
and pleasure.
= Further off was the boundless sea. O
! that deep blue which it borrowed from
the sky above, and mirrored in it
depth were the shipping in the road
!, stead. with their white canvas hang
4 ing loose to dry in the sun; the gree
u woods and dark rocks reflected down
. ward, and the old turreted castle @
= Santa Cruz, with the scarlet and vel
a low banner of CASTLE and Leon on 1t
= time-worn ramparts.
The summit of the great cone, on tn
clothed sides of which we never tire
= of gazing, soon became lost in vapor
. far above the dark green belt of man
= miles, named the Region of Laurel
i and that other belt or forest of timber
where pines, chestnuts, and oaks c
vast size mingle their varied foliag
g together, the mountain seemed all of
! violet tint, which paled away into fair
blue as its apex mingled and becam
: lost amid the gossamer clouds.
e Ito be continued