The air was
extremely clear, and as we steamed at ten knots each hour brought out in
prominent relief the mountain peaks of Cyprus; Olympus was capped with
clouds. Passing through a rain-cloud which for a time obscured the view,
we at length emerged into bright sunshine; the mists had cleared from
the mountain range, and Troodos, 6,400 feet above the sea-level, towered
above all competitors.
We were now about ten miles from the shore, and the general appearance
of the island suggested a recent snowfall. As the sun shone upon a bare
white surface, the sterile slopes and mountain sides were utterly devoid
of vegetation, and presented a sad aspect of desolation, which reminded
me of the barren range on the shores of the Red Sea.
First impressions are seldom correct, but the view of Cyprus on arrival
from the south was depressing, and extinguished all hopes that had been
formed concerning our newly-acquired possession. This was the treasure
acquired by astute diplomacy!
For about twenty miles we skirted this miserable coast, upon which not a
green speck relieved the eye; at length we sighted the minaret which
marked the position of Larnaca, the port or roadstead to which the mail
was bound; and in the town we distinguished three or four green trees.
We cast anchor about half a mile from the shore. Nine or ten vessels,
including several steamers, were in the roadstead, and a number of
lighters were employed in landing cargoes.
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