It was in vain that
840
the wearied Spaniards endeavored to thread the mazes of this tangled
thicket, where the creepers and flowering vines, that shoot up luxuriant
in a hot and humid atmosphere, had twined themselves round the huge
trunks of the forest-trees, and made a network that could be opened only
with the axe. The rain, in the mean time, rarely slackened, and the
ground, strewed with leaves and saturated with moisture, seemed to slip
away beneath their feet.
Nothing could be more dreary and disheartening than the aspect of these
funereal forests; where the exhalations from the overcharged surface of
the ground poisoned the air, and seemed to allow no life, except that,
indeed, of myriads of insects, whose enamelled wings glanced to and fro,
like sparks of fire, in every opening of the woods. Even the brute
creation appeared instinctively to have shunned the fatal spot, and
neither beast nor bird of any description was seen by the wanderers.
Silence reigned unbroken in the heart of these dismal solitudes; at least,
the only sounds that could be heard were the plashing of the rain-drops
on the leaves, and the tread of the forlorn adventurers.13
Entirely discouraged by the aspect of the country, the Spaniards began to
comprehend that they had gained nothing by changing their quarters
from sea to shore, and they felt the most serious apprehensions of
perishing from famine in a region which afforded nothing but such
unwholesome berries as they could pick up here and there in the woods.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215