On the Mexican highlands, with a passing glimpse of Cuba . ies at anchor the Mexican navy—a small-sized tug. Our voyage to Cuba is be-gun. 14 209 XIX Voyaging Across the Gulf of Mexico and Straits of Yucatan from Vera Cruz to Progresso and Havana Steamship Monterey, at Sea, December 21st-24th. It was late in the day when we set sail fromVera Cruz. The shoreland faded; the grove ofcocoanut palms In the Alameda with their featherytops waving in the evening breeze, were the lastgreen things I saw. As the sun sank suddenlybehind the great volcano, the western horizon wasfilled with golden and scar
On the Mexican highlands, with a passing glimpse of Cuba . ies at anchor the Mexican navy—a small-sized tug. Our voyage to Cuba is be-gun. 14 209 XIX Voyaging Across the Gulf of Mexico and Straits of Yucatan from Vera Cruz to Progresso and Havana Steamship Monterey, at Sea, December 21st-24th. It was late in the day when we set sail fromVera Cruz. The shoreland faded; the grove ofcocoanut palms In the Alameda with their featherytops waving in the evening breeze, were the lastgreen things I saw. As the sun sank suddenlybehind the great volcano, the western horizon wasfilled with golden and scarlet and purple color-ing, and jOrizaba^s summit was flooded with rose-ate splendor. The stars burst out, the moon creptup from the dark waters. We were on the Mex-ican Gulf, and the tropical heavens glowed andburned with a brilliance unknown to the latitudesof the middle north. The waters, churning in ourwake, flashed and glowed with the phosphores-cence characteristic of tropic seas. The wind fresh-ened and, by the middle of the night, the knowing 2IO. Across the Gulf of Mexico ones hinted that more than the usual commotionof the sea might be expected before the dawn. Infact, a cablegram had been received, sent from Gal-veston, warning us that a Norther was on itsway. I sat up till late, enjoying the rising gale anddrinking in the delicious air. After so long a sojourn upon high, dry,parched land, it was a delight to be again uponthe sea. The restless waters tossed our sturdyboat as though it were a cork. I slept soundly,despite the rolling of the ship and the hammer-ing of the surging billows against the shell of mycabin, and I was among the first to respond tothe six oclock bells summoning the hungry to theirdesayuno. These vessels follow the customs of themajority of their passengers and serve meals inSpanish fashion—desayuno from six to seven—cof-fee and rolls to whosoever may care to partake ofthem—and, about ten oclock the almiierzo, theregular breakfast, a heart
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