- end_line
- 2273
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2214
- text
- the far matin light from her cabin streamed equivocally enough; much
like the sun—by this time hemisphered on the rim of the horizon, and,
apparently, in company with the strange ship entering the harbor—which,
wimpled by the same low, creeping clouds, showed not unlike a Lima
intriguante’s one sinister eye peering across the Plaza from the Indian
loop-hole of her dusk _saya-y-manta._
It might have been but a deception of the vapors, but, the longer the
stranger was watched the more singular appeared her manoeuvres. Ere
long it seemed hard to decide whether she meant to come in or no—what
she wanted, or what she was about. The wind, which had breezed up a
little during the night, was now extremely light and baffling, which
the more increased the apparent uncertainty of her movements.
Surmising, at last, that it might be a ship in distress, Captain Delano
ordered his whale-boat to be dropped, and, much to the wary opposition
of his mate, prepared to board her, and, at the least, pilot her in. On
the night previous, a fishing-party of the seamen had gone a long
distance to some detached rocks out of sight from the sealer, and, an
hour or two before daybreak, had returned, having met with no small
success. Presuming that the stranger might have been long off
soundings, the good captain put several baskets of the fish, for
presents, into his boat, and so pulled away. From her continuing too
near the sunken reef, deeming her in danger, calling to his men, he
made all haste to apprise those on board of their situation. But, some
time ere the boat came up, the wind, light though it was, having
shifted, had headed the vessel off, as well as partly broken the vapors
from about her.
Upon gaining a less remote view, the ship, when made signally visible
on the verge of the leaden-hued swells, with the shreds of fog here and
there raggedly furring her, appeared like a white-washed monastery
after a thunder-storm, seen perched upon some dun cliff among the
Pyrenees. But it was no purely fanciful resemblance which now, for a
moment, almost led Captain Delano to think that nothing less than a
ship-load of monks was before him. Peering over the bulwarks were what
really seemed, in the hazy distance, throngs of dark cowls; while,
fitfully revealed through the open port-holes, other dark moving
figures were dimly descried, as of Black Friars pacing the cloisters.
Upon a still nigher approach, this appearance was modified, and the
true character of the vessel was plain—a Spanish merchantman of the
first class, carrying negro slaves, amongst other valuable freight,
from one colonial port to another. A very large, and, in its time, a
very fine vessel, such as in those days were at intervals encountered
along that main; sometimes superseded Acapulco treasure-ships, or
retired frigates of the Spanish king’s navy, which, like superannuated
Italian palaces, still, under a decline of masters, preserved signs of
former state.
As the whale-boat drew more and more nigh, the cause of the peculiar
pipe-clayed aspect of the stranger was seen in the slovenly neglect
pervading her. The spars, ropes, and great part of the bulwarks, looked
woolly, from long unacquaintance with the scraper, tar, and the brush.
Her keel seemed laid, her ribs put together, and she launched, from
Ezekiel’s Valley of Dry Bones.
In the present business in which she was engaged, the ship’s general
model and rig appeared to have undergone no material change from their
original warlike and Froissart pattern. However, no guns were seen.
- title
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