platform amongst the branches, where a little baboon-looking old man, in
the dress of a drummer, had perched himself, and sat playing a Biscayan
air on a sort of bagpipe; others were gathered round the fire cooking
their food, or cleaning their arms.

It shone brightly on the long line of Spanish transports that were moored
below, _stem on_ to the beach, and on the white sails of the armed craft
that were still hovering under weigh in the offing, which, as the night
wore on, stole in, one after another, like phantoms of the ocean, and
letting go their anchors with a splash, and a hollow rattle of the cable,
remained still and silent as the rest.

Farther off, it fell in a crimson stream on the surface of the sheltered
bay, struggling with the light of the gentle moon, and tinging with blood
the small waves that twinkled in her silver wake, across which a guard
boat would now and then glide, like a fairy thing, the arms of the men
flashing back the red light.

Beyond the influence of the hot smoky glare, the glorious planet reassumed
her sway in the midst of her attendant stars, and the relieved eye
wandered forth into the lovely night, where the noiseless sheet lightning
way glancing, and ever and anon lighting up for an instant some fantastic
shape in the fleecy clouds, like prodigies forerunning the destruction of
the stronghold over which they impended; while beneath, the lofty ridge of
the convent-crowned Popa, the citadel of San Felipé bristling with cannon,
the white batteries and many towers of the fated city of Carthagena, and
the Spanish blockading squadron at anchor before it, slept in the
moonlight.

We were civilly received by the captain, who apologized for the discomfort