It Was My Intention To Stop At San Lucar, For The Purpose Of
Recovering The Chest Of Testaments Which Had Been Placed In Embargo
There, Until Such Time As They Could Be Removed From The Kingdom Of
Spain.
These Testaments I intended for distribution amongst the
Christians whom I hoped to meet on the shores of Barbary.
San
Lucar is about fifteen leagues distant from Seville, at the
entrance of the bay of Cadiz, where the yellow waters of the
Guadalquivir unite with the brine. The steamer shot from the
little quay, or wharf, at about half-past nine, and then arose a
loud cry, - it was the voices of those on board and on shore wishing
farewell to their friends. Amongst the tumult I thought I could
distinguish the accents of some friends of my own who had
accompanied me to the bank, and I instantly raised my own voice
louder than all. The night was very dark, so much so, indeed, that
as we passed along we could scarcely distinguish the trees which
cover the eastern shore of the river until it takes its first turn.
A calmazo had reigned during the day at Seville, by which is meant,
exceedingly sultry weather, unenlivened by the slightest breeze.
The night likewise was calm and sultry. As I had frequently made
the voyage of the Guadalquivir, ascending and descending this
celebrated river, I felt nothing of that restlessness and curiosity
which people experience in a strange place, whether in light or
darkness, and being acquainted with none of the other passengers,
who were talking on the deck, I thought my best plan would be to
retire to the cabin and enjoy some rest, if possible.
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