I admired its strange aspect, surrounded by black rocks
upon which its white houses and forts stood in relief.
I saw the rounded domes of its mosques, the elegant points
of its minarets, its fresh and verdant terraces. But it was only
a vision! The Nautilus soon sank under the waves of that part
of the sea.
We passed along the Arabian coast of Mahrah and Hadramaut,
for a distance of six miles, its undulating line of mountains
being occasionally relieved by some ancient ruin.
The 5th of February we at last entered the Gulf of Aden,
a perfect funnel introduced into the neck of Bab-el-mandeb,
through which the Indian waters entered the Red Sea.
The 6th of February, the Nautilus floated in sight of Aden,
perched upon a promontory which a narrow isthmus joins to the mainland,
a kind of inaccessible Gibraltar, the fortifications of which
were rebuilt by the English after taking possession in 1839.
I caught a glimpse of the octagon minarets of this town, which was at
one time the richest commercial magazine on the coast.
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