When All Hands Were Called It Was Nearly Sunrise, And Between That Time
And Breakfast, Although Quite Busy On Board In Getting Up Water-Casks,
Etc., I Had A Good View Of The Objects About Me.
The harbor was nearly
land-locked, and at the head of it was a landing-place, protected by a
small breakwater of stones, upon which two large boats were hauled up,
with a sentry standing over them.
Near this was a variety of huts or
cottages, nearly an hundred in number, the best of them built of mud
and white washed, but the greater part only Robinson Crusoe like -
of posts and branches of trees. The governor's house, as it is called,
was the most conspicuous, being large, with grated windows, plastered
walls, and roof of red tiles; yet, like all the rest, only of one story.
Near it was a small chapel, distinguished by a cross; and a long, low
brown-looking building, surrounded by something like a palisade, from
which an old and dingy-looking Chilian flag was flying. This, of course,
was dignified by the title of Presidio. A sentinel was stationed at
the chapel, another at the governor's house, and a few soldiers armed
with bayonets, looking rather ragged, with shoes out at the toes, were
strolling about among the houses, or waiting at the landing-place for
our boat to come ashore.
The mountains were high, but not so overhanging as they appeared
to be by starlight. They seemed to bear off towards the centre of
the island, and were green and well wooded, with some large, and,
I am told, exceedingly fertile valleys, with mule-tracks leading
to different parts of the island.
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