On The Beach There Were Large Piles Of Merchandise,
And The Little Place Had An Air Of Activity.
In the evening
I gave my adios, with a hearty good-will, to my companion
Mariano Gonzales, with whom I had ridden so many leagues
in Chile.
The next morning the Beagle sailed for Iquique.
July 12th. - We anchored in the port of Iquique, in lat.
20 degs. 12', on the coast of Peru. The town contains about a
thousand inhabitants, and stands on a little plain of sand at
the foot of a great wall of rock, 2000 feet in height, here
forming the coast. The whole is utterly desert. A light
shower of rain falls only once in very many years; and the
ravines consequently are filled with detritus, and the
mountain-sides covered by piles of fine white sand, even to a
height of a thousand feet. During this season of the year a
heavy bank of clouds, stretched over the ocean, seldom rises
above the wall of rocks on the coast. The aspect of the place
was most gloomy; the little port, with its few vessels, and
small group of wretched houses, seemed overwhelmed and out of
all proportion with the rest of the scene.
The inhabitants live like persons on board a ship: every
necessary comes from a distance: water is brought in boats
from Pisagua, about forty miles northward, and is sold at
the rate of nine reals (4s. 6d.) an eighteen-gallon cask: I
bought a wine-bottle full for threepence.
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