low and marshy, and the mountains fall into the distance.
After ascending a few miles further we anchored about 8 o’clock on a fine moonlight evening. A sultry stillness reigned on every side, disturbed only by the distant cries of the various animals in the woods—the solitary splash of some passing fish, or the gentle rippling of the stream against the sides of the vessel.
The conversation turned on the atrocities of the pirates, who infest these parts; and among other stories the history of the sacking and scuttling of the very vessel in which we then were, was related. It is a melancholy tale, but as the circumstances are of recent date, and the sufferers known, it is worth remembrance.
She was at that time manned by a captain and four men, and had on board a clerk of the house to which she belonged. They were returning from the Spanish coast to Belize, when they fell in with a schooner of similar size which they immediately recognized as belonging to the bay. This vessel it appears had been taken the day before by the pirates, who now attempted to board them. Deceived by her appearance they were totally unprepared for resistance. The wretches had no sooner placed their feet on her deck, than they proceeded to murder every soul on board, with the exception of one black man who jumped
