I had gone with some of my friends to a great fishing party at the entrance of the bay, which, by-the-bye, is one of the finest in the world, being twenty-four miles in length and eighteen in breadth.

The missionary, Padre Marini, not being very well, had an idea that the sea-air would do him good, and joined our company.

We had many boats; the one in which the Padre and I embarked was a well-shaped little thing, which had belonged to some American vessel.

It was pulled with two oars, and had a small mast and sail.
Our fishing being successful, we were all in high glee, and we went on shore to fry some of our victims for our afternoon's meal.

During the conversation, somebody spoke of some ancient ruins, fifteen miles north, at the entrance of a small creek.