n, skimming along near the
beach in the early morning, our sails spread to a land breeze, laden
with fragrance from the tropic forest and the music of many songsters,
we sailed in great felicity, dreading no dangers from the sea, for
there were none now to dread or fear.

Proceeding forward through this belt of moderate winds, fanned by
alternating land and sea breezes, we drew on toward a region of high
trade-winds that reach sometimes the dignity of a gale. It was no
surprise, therefore, after days of fine-weather sailing, to be met by a
storm, which so happened as to drive us into the indifferent anchorage
of St. Paulo, thirty miles from Bahia, where we remained two days for
shelter.

Time, three days from Caravellas; distance sailed, 270 miles.

A few fishermen lounged about the place, living, apparently, in wretched
poverty, spending their time between waiting for the tide to go out,
when it was in, and waiting for it to come in, when it was out, to float
a canoe or bring fish to their shiftless nets. This, indeed, seemed
their only concern in life; while their ill-thatched houses, forsaken of
the adobe that once clung to the wicker walls, stood grinning in rows,
like emblems of our mortality.

We found at this St. Paulo anything but saints. The wretched place
should be avoided by strangers, unless driven there for shelter, as we
ourselves were, by stress of weather. We left the place on the first
lull of the wind, having been threatened by an attack from a gang of
rough, half-drunken fellows, who rudely came on board, jostling about,
and jabbering in a dialect which, however, I happened to understand. I
got rid of them by the use of my broken Portuguese, and once away I was
resolved that they should stay away. I was not mistaken in my suspicions
that they would return and try to come aboard, which shortly afterward
they did, but my resolution to keep them off was not shaken. I let them
know, in their own jargon this time, that I was well armed. They
finally paddled back to the shore, and all visiting was then ended. We
stood a good watch that night, and by daylight next morning, Aug. 12th,
put to sea, standing out in a heavy swell, the character of which I knew
better, and could trust to more confidently than a harbour among
treacherous natives.

Early in the same day, we arrived at _Bahia do todos Santos_ (All
Saints' Bay), a charming port, with a rich surrounding country. It was
from this port, by the way,