orches were
repeatedly held over the vessel's side to summon a pilot; no pilot,
however, made his appearance, and we were therefore obliged to trust
to chance, and anchor at the mouth of the bay.

On the morning of the 13th a pilot came on board, and astonished us
with the intelligence that we had anchored before the wrong bay. We
had some trouble in working our way out, and anchoring about noon in
the right one. A pretty little chateau-like building immediately
attracted our attention. We took it for some advanced building of
the town, and congratulated one another on having reached our
temporary destination so quickly. On approaching nearer, however,
we could perceive no signs of the town, and learned that the
building was a small fort, and that Santos was situated in a second
bay, communicating with the first by a small arm of the sea.
Unluckily, the wind had by this time fallen, and we were obliged to
be at anchor all day, and it was not until the 14th that a slight
breeze sprang up and wafted us into port.

Santos is most charmingly situated at the entrance of a large
valley. Picturesque hills, adorned with chapels and detached
houses, rise on each side, and immediately beyond are considerable
mountain ranges, spreading in a semi-circle round the valley, while
a lovely island forms a most beautiful foreground to the whole.

We had scarcely landed before the captain informed us that we must
stop for at least five days. The Italians, one of the Frenchmen,
and myself determined that we would take advantage of this delay to
make an excursion to St. Paulo, the largest inland town of the
Brazils, and about forty miles from Santos. The same evening we
hired mules, for which we paid five milreis (10s. 10d.) each, and
set out upon our trip.

15th December. Early in the morning, we armed ourselves with well-
charged double-barrelled pistols, having been alarmed by accounts of
the Maroon negroes, {55} about a hundred of whom were said to be at
that time lurking in the mountains, and to be so daring that they
extended their inroads as far as the vicinity of Santos itself.

The first eight miles led through the valley to the lofty range of
mountains which we had to cross. The road was good, and more
frequented than any I had yet seen in the Brazils. Handsome wooden
bridges traverse the rivers Vicente and Cubatao; one of these
bridges is actually covered, but then every one is charged a pretty
high toll.

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