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Updated: June 15, 2025
The 27th we came to anchor at Cuervo, opposite a village of about a dozen mean houses; but dragging our anchors in the night during a gale of wind, we went to Flores, where we saw strange streams of water pouring from its high cliffs, occasioned by a prodigious rain.
Before I had time to notice a sign my guide was making to me I had replied that I was going to the Venta del Cuervo. "That's a bad lodging for a gentleman like you, sir! I'm bound there myself, and if you'll allow me to ride with you, we'll go together." "With pleasure!" I replied, mounting my horse. The guide, who was holding my stirrup, looked at me meaningly again.
When I mentioned I was going to the Venta del Cuervo for the night he offered to accompany me, and I accepted willingly. As we rode along Antonio endeavoured to attract my attention by mysterious signs, but I took no notice. Doubtless my companion was a smuggler, or a robber. What did it matter to me? I knew I had nothing to fear from a man who had eaten and smoked with me.
Off this island is another named Brava, or St John, not exceeding two leagues over, which has abundance of goats and many trees, but not above three or four inhabitants. On the 25th of February we set sail for the Azores, and on the 23d of March we got sight of one of these islands called Flores, to the north of which we could see another called Cuervo, about two leagues distant.
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