The year after, seemingly, Captain Whiddon, Raleigh's faithful follower, lost eight men in the island in a Spanish ambush.

But Duddeley was the first Englishman, as far as I am aware, who marched, 'for his experience and pleasure, four long marches through the island; the last fifty miles going and coming through a most monstrous thicke wood, for so is most part of the island; and lodging myself in Indian townes.' Poor Sir Robert--'larding the lean earth as he stalked along'-- in ruff and trunk hose, possibly too in burning steel breastplate, most probably along the old Indian path from San Fernando past Savannah Grande, and down the Ortoire to Mayaro on the east coast.

How hot he must have been.

How often, we will hope, he must have bathed on the journey in those crystal brooks, beneath the balisiers and the bamboos.

He found 'a fine- shaped and a gentle people, all naked and painted red' (with roucou), 'their commanders wearing crowns of feathers,' and a country 'fertile and full of fruits, strange beasts and fowls, whereof munkeis, babions, and parats were in great abundance.' His 'munkeis' were, of course, the little Sapajous; his 'babions' no true Baboons; for America disdains that degraded and dog-like form; but the great red Howlers.