Читать книгу Roraima and British Guiana, With a Glance at Bermuda, the West Indies, and the Spanish Main онлайн

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Whilst an old resident was telling us this story, we had entered the Great Sound, and we found ourselves in a pretty land-locked harbour, on whose wonderfully clear blue water floated numerous fairy islets—a scene which reminded us of the words of Moore:

“The morn was lovely, every wave was still

When the first perfume of a cedar-hill

Sweetly awakened us, and with smiling charms

The fairy harbour wooed us to its arms.”

Through these green islands we wound our way carefully, one channel being particularly narrow and dangerous. Beneath its transparent waters we could distinguish an old cannon; and then a sudden turn brought us into the pretty port of Hamilton, where we dropped anchor close to the shore. But being on shore and only near it are very different things, and it seemed hours to us hungry mortals before the vessel was gradually dragged to within forty feet of the quay. Nearer we could not get, on account of a shallow.

Now to land in boats appeared too ridiculous for such a short distance, but no other means were visible. A bridge lowered by a crane would have landed us all in a few minutes, but there was no appearance of such a thing. Old-fashioned Bermuda wanted no new-fangled notions, so we had to abide our time and wait until a bridge had been manufactured in the following way: Ropes were thrown from the vessel and fastened to the outer ends of long beams, which were hauled on board, their other extremities resting on shore. Then a number of grinning darkies strided these beams, and lashed cross-bars to them; planks were laid on the frame, and over these we walked on to the quay.