Captain George Henderson's travel log of the Bay Islands of Honduras

In 1809, while most of the Caribbean was known through sugar, slavery, and war, a lesser-known travel log offered an unexpected window into the serene yet strategic Bay Islands of Honduras.

That log belonged to Captain George Henderson, a British officer stationed in the region, who documented his journey aboard His Majesty’s schooner Monkey, under the command of Lieutenant Smith. Their route through the islands—Ruatan (Roatan), Morat, Barbarette, and Bonacca (Guanaja)—reads less like a military report and more like a quiet, observant cruise through paradise.

The purpose of the voyage was both strategic and observational. At the time, Spain’s grip on its colonies was weakening, and Britain was keenly aware of opportunities to protect and possibly expand its influence in the region. The Bay Islands, lying off the coast of present-day Honduras, offered untapped potential.

The first major landmass they approached was Ruatan (modern-day Roatán), and Henderson’s reaction was immediate:

“Ruatan appeared singularly rich and beautiful. The cocoanut tree was more abundant than I had ever seen it, and the feathered race of birds, such as parrots and others, innumerable.” – Capt. George Henderson, 1809

The schooner made anchor between the eastern tip of Ruatan and the island of Barbarette, finding safe harbor in the narrow channel that separates the two. The men were struck by the thick vegetation and the wild birds in every direction. In 1809, this wasn’t a tourist paradise—it was a strategic, fertile island with no Spanish presence.

After anchoring at Ruatan, the ship made its way past Morat and Barbarette—small, forested islands close to Ruatan’s eastern flank. While Henderson didn’t linger in description here, the inclusion of their names marks them as part of the navigational puzzle that British sailors had to piece together. These islands were important not just as geographic points, but as wayfinding markers in the often-treacherous Caribbean waters.

Then came Bonacca, now called Guanaja, which Henderson described in lyrical detail:

“The anchorage of Bonacca is extremely beautiful. The depth of water is great, the bays are very transparent, and the island itself of a considerable height, clothed from the base to the summit with the thickest woods.”

If Ruatan impressed them with color and abundance, Bonacca impressed them with symmetry and clarity. The crystal-clear waters, deep safe anchorage, and steep forested slopes made it feel almost sculpted—“a considerable height” of unspoiled beauty rising from the sea.

They encountered a small community living there, mostly “people of color,” who raised hogs, poultry, and cattle. There was no Spanish garrison, no fort, no watchtower—just everyday life quietly unfolding, and a peaceful bay waiting for ships to drop anchor.

Henderson doesn’t say it outright, but his log suggests it clearly: the Bay Islands were wide open. He noted repeatedly that “no Spanish force had ever occupied” these places and that in time of war, their utility would be "infinite." As a soldier, he understood the importance of location, access to fresh water, food, and natural anchorage—and the Bay Islands had all of that.

This sailor’s journey—written not as a novel but as a military journal—gives us a rare 1809 snapshot of the Bay Islands before the rise of tourism, before colonial handovers, before resort towns and cruise ships. Henderson saw the islands as wild, bountiful, and full of promise, and his careful notes reveal both his admiration and his military training. He saw value where others might have seen only jungle and distance.