Yet nothing
could be more unpromising than the aspect of the country. It had
the same character of low, swampy soil, that distinguished the
former landing-place; while thick-matted forests, of a depth
which the eye could not penetrate, stretched along the coast to
an interminable length. It was in vain that the wearied
Spaniards endeavoured to thread the mazes of this tangled
thicket, where the creepers and flowering vines, that shoot up
luxuriant in a hot and humid atmosphere, had twined themselves
round the huge trunks of the forest-trees, and made a network
that could be opened only with the axe. The rain, in the mean
time, rarely slackened, and the ground, strewed with leaves and
saturated with moisture, seemed to slip away beneath their feet.
Nothing could be more dreary and disheartening than the aspect of
these funereal forests; where the exhalations from the
overcharged surface of the ground poisoned the air, and seemed to
allow no life, except that, indeed, of myriads of insects, whose
enamelled wings glanced to and fro, like sparks of fire, in every
opening of the woods. Even the brute creation appeared
instinctively to have shunned the fatal spot, and neither beast
nor bird of any description was seen by the wanderers. Silence
reigned unbroken in the heart of these dismal solitudes; at
least, the only sounds that could be heard were the plashing of
the rain-drops on the leaves, and the tread of the forlorn
adventurers.
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