Anxious To Reach Cumana, In Order To Avail Ourselves Of The First Opportunity That Might Offer For Our Passage To Vera Cruz, We Hired An Open Boat Called A Lancha, A Sort Of Craft Employed Habitually In The Latitudes East Of Cape Codera Where The Sea Is Scarcely Ever Rough.

Our lancha, which was laden with cacao, carried on a contraband trade with the island of Trinidad.

For this reason the owner imagined we had nothing to fear from the enemy's vessels, which then blockaded all the Spanish ports. We embarked our collection of plants, our instruments and our monkeys; and, the weather being delightful, we hoped to make a very short passage from the mouth of the Rio Neveri to Cumana: but we had scarcely reached the narrow channel between the continent and the rocky isles of Borracha and the Chimanas, when to our great surprise we came in sight of an armed boat, which, whilst hailing us from a great distance, fired some musket-shot at us. The boat belonged to a privateer of Halifax; and I recognized among the sailors a Prussian, a native of Memel. I had found no opportunity, since my arrival in America, of expressing myself in my native language, and I could have wished to have spoken it on a less unpleasant occasion. Our protestations were without effect: we were carried on board the privateer, and the captain, affecting not to recognize the passports delivered by the governor of Trinidad for the illicit trade, declared us to be a lawful prize.

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