elaborate precautions, Señor Moreña strongly advised me to stay no longer
in Caracas than I could possibly help.

"Spies more vigilant than those of the Inquisition are continually on the
lookout for victims," he said. "An inadvertent word, a look even, might
betray you; the only law is the will of the military and police, and they
make very short work of those whom they suspect. Yes, leave Caracas the
moment you have delivered your letters; our friends will smuggle you
through the Spanish line and lead you to one of the patriot camps."

This was not very encouraging; but I was at an adventurous age and in an
enterprising mood, and the creole's warnings had rather the effect of
increasing my desire to go forward with the undertaking in which I had
engaged than causing me to falter in my resolve. Like Napoleon, I believed
in my star, and I had faced death too often on the field of battle to fear
the rather remote dangers Moreña had foreshadowed, and in whose existence
I only half believed.

The die being cast, the next question was how I should reach my
destination. The Spaniards of that age kept the trade with their colonies
in their own hands, and it was seldom, indeed, that a ship sailed from the
Thames for La Guayra or any other port on the Main. I was, however, lucky
enough to find a vessel in the river taking in cargo for the island of
Curaçoa, which had just been ceded by England to the Dutch, from whom it
was captured in 1807, and for a reasonable consideration the master agreed
to fit me up a cabin and give me a passage.

The voyage was rather long--something like fifty days--yet not altogether
uneventful; for in the course of it we were chased by an American
privateer, overhauled by a Spanish cruiser, nearly caught by a pirate, and