Chapter VIII.
Our reception at Quamwatla had certainly not been of a kind to inspire us with the most cheerful anticipations. We knew that a vast net-work of lagoons, rivers, and creeks extended to Cape Gracias, but of the character and disposition of the people, scattered along their tangled shores, we were utterly ignorant. Turning back was not to be thought of; and going ahead was a matter which required caution. Should we be so unfortunate as to get involved in another fight, we could hardly expect to get off so easily as we had done in our last encounter.
Under all the circumstances, we concluded that, inasmuch as our place of refuge seemed secure, and withal was not deficient in resources, it would be the wisest plan to remain where we were until thepursuit, which we were sure would be made, should have been abandoned; or, at least, until the waning of the moon should afford us a dark night, wherein we could pursue our voyage unobserved. With this sage resolution, we set to work to establish a temporary camp.
As I have said, the little creek, which we had followed, led us to the base of a range of low hills, or rather ridges or swells of land, where the ground was not alluvial, but dry and gravelly. These ridges could hardly be called savannahs, although they were covered with a species of coarse grass, relieved, here and there, by clumps of gum-arabic bushes, groups of pine-trees, and an occasionalcoyol, or spiny-palm. Between these comparatively high grounds and the lagoon, intervened a dense, impenetrable mangrove-swamp, pierced by a few choked channels formed by the small streams coming down from the hills.
I selected the shelter of a clump of fragrant pines for our encampment, where the ground was covered with a soft, brown carpet of fallen leaves. A rope stretched between the trees supported our little sail, which was spread out, tent-wise, by poles. Under this my hammock was suspended, affording a retreat, shady and cool by day, and secure from damps and rains at night.
In a little grassy dell, close by, was a clear spring of water. We lit no fires except at night, lest the smoke might betray us; and only then in places whence the light could not be reflected.
Accustomed as were my companions to wild and savage life, they seemed to enjoy the danger and the seclusion in which we found ourselves. It gave them an opportunity to display their skill and resources, and they really assumed toward me an air of complacent patronage, something like that of a cityhabituétoward his country cousin, when showing to him the marvels of the metropolis.
One of Antonio’s earliest exploits, after our resolution to stop had been taken, was to cut down a number of the rough-looking palm-trees. In the trunks of these, near their tops, where the leaves sprang out, he carefully chiseled a hole, cutting completely through the pulp of the tree, to the outer, or woody shell. This hole was again covered with the piece of rind, which had first been removed, as with a lid. I watched the operation curiously, but asked no questions. In the course of the afternoon, however, he took off one of these covers, and disclosed to me the cavity filled with a frothy liquid, of the faintest straw tinge, looking like delicate Sauterne wine. He presented me with a piece of reed, and with a gratified air motioned me to drink. My early experiments with straws, in the cider-barrels of New England, recurred to me at once, and I laughed to think that I had come to repeat them under the tropics. I found the juice sweet, and slightly pungent, but altogether rich, delicious, and invigorating. As may be supposed, I paid frequent visits to Antonio’s reservoirs.
This palm bears the name ofcoyolamong theSpaniards, and ofcockatruceamong the Mosquitos. Its juice is called by the formerVino de Coyol, and by the Indians generallyChicha(cheechee)—a name, however, which is applied to a variety of drinks. When the tree is cut down, the end is plastered with mud, to prevent the juice, with which the core is saturated, from exuding. A hole is then cut near the top, as I have described, in which the liquid is gradually distilled, filling the reservoir in the course of ten or twelve hours. This reservoir may be emptied daily, and yet be constantly replenished, it is said, for upward of a month. On the third day, if the tree be exposed to the sun, the juice begins to ferment, and gradually grows stronger, until, at the end of a couple of weeks, it becomes intoxicating—thus affording to the Sambos a ready means of getting up the “big drunk.” The Spaniards affirm that the “vino de coyol” is a specific for indigestion and pains in the stomach.
The nuts of this variety of palm grow in large clusters. They are round, containing a very solid kernel, so saturated with oil as to resemble refined wax. It is in all respects superior to the ordinary cocoa-nut oil, and might be obtained in any desirable quantity, if means could be devised for separating the kernel from the shell. This shell is thick, hard, black, capable of receiving the minutest carving, and most brilliant polish, and is often worked into ornaments by the Indians.
In the moist depressions, or valleys, near our encampment, we also found another variety ofpalm, which often stands the traveler, under the tropics, in good stead, as a substitute for other and better vegetable food. I mean thePalmetto Royal, orMountain Cabbage(Areca oleracea), which has justly been called the “Queen of the Forest.” It grows to a great height, frequently no thicker than a man’s thigh, yet rising upward of a hundred and fifty feet in the air. No other tree in the world equals it in height or beauty. The trunk swells moderately a short distance above the root, whence it tapers gently to its emerald crown, sustaining throughout the most elegant proportions.
PALMETTO ROYAL.
PALMETTO ROYAL.
PALMETTO ROYAL.
The edible part, or “cabbage” (as it is called, from some fancied resemblance in taste to that vegetable), constitutes the upper part of the trunk, whence the foliage springs. It resembles a tall Etruscan vase in shape, of the liveliest green color, gently swelling from its pedestal, and diminishing gradually to the top, where it expandsin plume-like branches. From the very centre of this natural vase rises a tall, yellowishspatha, or sheath, terminating in a sharp point. At the bottom of this, and inclosed in the natural vase which I have described, is found a tender white core, or heart, varying in size with the dimensions of the tree, but usually eight or ten inches in circumference. This may be eaten raw, as a salad, or, if preferred, fried or boiled. In taste it resembles an artichoke, rather than a cabbage.
The Indians climb this palm, and, dexterously inserting their knives, contrive to obtain the edible part without destroying the tree itself. By means of the same contrivance which he made use of in obtaining the cocoa-nuts, on the island in Pearl Cay Lagoon, Antonio kept us supplied with palm cabbages, which were our chief reliance, in the vegetable line. I found that they were most palatable when properly seasoned, and baked in the ground, with some strips of manitee fat, after the manner which I have already described.
The fruits of this tree are small, oblong berries, of a purplish blue, about the size of an olive, inclosing a smooth, brittle nut, which, in turn, covers a cartilaginous kernel.
The pine ridges were not deficient in animal life. A few large cotton-trees grew on the edge of the mangrove-swamp, which were the nightly resort of parrots and paroquets, who came literally in clouds, and then the callings, scoldings, frettings, and screamings that took place would have drowned theconfusion of the most vicious rookery extant. In the evening and morning it was really difficult for us to make each other hear, although our camp was distant more than two hundred yards from the roosts. The parrots are often eaten by the natives, in default of other food, but they are tough, hard, dry, and tasteless. Not so, however, with the quails, which were not only numerous, but so tame, or rather so unsuspecting, that we could catch as many as we wanted, in the simplest kind of traps. We adopted this method of procuring such game as the Poyer boy did not kill with his bow, instead of using my gun, the report of which might betray us.
Day by day we extended our excursions farther from the camp, every step revealing to me, at least, something novel and interesting. I think it was the third day after our arrival, when we came upon a patch of low ground, or jungle, densely wooded, and distant perhaps half a mile from our encampment. Attracted by some bright flowers, I penetrated a few yards into the bushes, where, to my surprise, I came upon what appeared to be a well-beaten path, which I followed for some distance, wondering over the various queer tracks which I observed printed, here and there, on the moist ground. While thus engaged, I was startled by the sound of some animal approaching, with a dull and heavy, but rapid tread. Looking up, I saw a lead-colored beast, about the size of a large donkey, its head drooping between its fore-legs, coming toward me at a swinging trot.Thinking he was charging upon me direct, I leaped into the bushes, with the intention of climbing up a tree. But before I could effect my object, the monster lumbered past, taking not the slightest notice of my presence. I breathed freer, when I saw his broad buttocks and little pig-like tail disappearing down the path, and I made my way out of the jungle, in a manner probably more expeditious than either graceful or valorous. Antonio, who was dodging after a fat curassow, had heard the noise, and was witness of my retreat. He seemed alarmed at first, but only smiled when I explained what I had seen. In fact, he appeared to think it rather a good joke, and hurried off to examine the tracks. He came back in a few minutes, and reported that my monster wasonly a dante, which I took to be some kind of Indian lingo for at least a hippopotamus, or rhinoceros.
“We shall have rare sport,” he continued, “in catching thisdante. It will be equal to hunting the manitus.”
I found, upon inquiry, that thedanteis called, in the Mosquito dialect,tilbaortapia, which names at once suggestedtapir, an animal of which I had read, but of which I had very vague notions.
The Poyer boy seemed delighted with the news that there was atapirabout, and in less than five minutes after, both he and Antonio were sharpening their spears and lances, with palpable design on my monster’s life. They told me that thetapirgenerally keeps quiet during the day, wanderingout at night, usually in fixed haunts and by the same paths, to take exercise and obtain his food. I was not a little relieved when they added that he never fights with man or beast, but owes his safety to his speed, thick hide, and ability to take to the water, where he is as much at home as on land, swimming or sinking to the bottom at his pleasure. He is, nevertheless, a headlong beast, and when alarmed or pursued, stops at nothing—vines, bushes, trees, rocks, are all the same to him! He would do well for a crest, with the motto, “Neck or Nothing!”
In shape, thedanteortapir(sometimes calledmountain cow) is something like a hog, but much larger. He has a similar arched back; his head, however, is thicker, and comes to a sharp ridge at the top. The male has a snout or sort of proboscis hanging over the opening of the mouth, something like the trunk of an elephant, which he uses in like manner. This is wanting in the female. Its ears are rounded, bordered with white, and can be drawn forward at pleasure; its legs are thick and stumpy; its fore-feet or hoofs are divided into three parts or toes, with a sort of false hoof behind; but the hind feet have only three parts or divisions. Its tail is short, and marked by a few stiff hairs; the skin so hard and solid as generally to resist a musket-ball; the hair thin and short, of a dusky brown; and along the top of the neck runs a bristly mane, which extends over the head and down the snout. He has ten cutting-teeth, and an equalnumber of grinders in each jaw; features which separate him entirely from the ox-kind, and from all other ruminating animals. He lives upon plants and roots, and, as I have said, is perfectly harmless in disposition. The female produces but one young at a birth, of which she is very tender, leading it, at an early age, to the water, and instructing it to swim.
This description finished, the reader is ready to accompany us in our nocturnal expedition against the tapir. Before it became dark, Antonio, accompanied by the boy, went to the thicket which I have described, and felled several stout trees across the path, in such a manner as to form a kind ofcul de sac. The design of this was to arrest the animal on his return, and enable us to spear him before he could break through or disengage himself. We went to the spot early in the evening, and, as the moon did not rise until late, Antonio caught his hat half-full of fire-flies, which served to guide us in the bush. He then pulled off their wings and scattered them among the fallen trees, where they gave light enough to enable us to distinguish objects with considerable clearness. Notwithstanding Antonio’s assurances that thetapirwas a member of the Peace Society, I could not divest myself of the alarm which he had given me in the morning, and I was not at all sorry to find that my companions had selected a spot for their abattis, where an overhanging tree enabled me to keep out of harm’s way, yet near enough to take a sly drive with mylance at the tapir, if he should happen to come that way.
Antonio and the Poyer boy took their stations among the fallen trees; I took mine, and we awaited thedante’spleasure. I strained my eyes in vain endeavors to penetrate the gloom, and held my breath full half the time to hear the expected tread. But we peered, and listened, and waited in vain; the fire-flies crawled away in every direction, and yet thetapirobstinately kept away. Finally, the moon came up; and by-and-by it rose above the trees—and still no tapir!
My seat on the tree became uncomfortable, and I instituted a comparison between tapir and manitus-hunting, largely to the advantage of the latter; and, finally, when Antonio whispered “He is coming!” I felt a willful disposition to contradict him. But my ear, meanwhile, caught the same dull sound which had arrested my attention in the morning; and, a few moments afterward, I could make out the beast, in the dim light, driving on at the same swinging trot. Right on he came, heedless and headlong. Crash! crash! There was a plunge and struggle, and a crushing and trampling of branches, then a dull sound of the heavy beast striking against the unyielding trunks of the fallen trees. He was now fairly stopped, and with a shout my companions drove down upon him with their lances, which rung out a sharp metallic sound when they struck his thick, hard hide. It was an exciting moment, and my eagerness overcoming myprudence, I slipped down the tree, and joined in the attack. Blow upon blow of the lances, and I could feel that mine struck deeply into the flesh, it seemed to me into the very vitals of the animal. But the strokes only appeared to give him new strength, and gathering back, he drove again full upon the opposing tree, bearing it down before him. I had just leaped upon the trunk, the better to aim my lance, and went down with it headlong, almost under the feet of the struggling animal, one tramp of whose feet would have crushed me like a worm. I could have touched him with my arm, he was so near! I heard the alarmed shriek of Antonio, when he saw me fall; but, in an instant, he leapedto my side, and, shortening his lance, drove it, with desperate force, clean through the animal, bringing him to his knees. This done, he grappled me as he might an infant, and before I was aware of it, had dragged me clear of the fallen timber. The blow of Antonio proved fatal; the tapir fell over on his side, and in a few moments was quite dead.
THE DEATH OF THE TAPIR.
THE DEATH OF THE TAPIR.
THE DEATH OF THE TAPIR.
The Poyer boy was dispatched to the camp for fire and pine splints, which, stuck in the ground around the tapir, answered for torches. By their light my companions proceeded to cut up the spoil, a tedious operation, which occupied them until daylight. I did not wait, but went back to my hammock, leaving them to finish their work, undisturbed by my questions.
When I awoke in the morning, I found Antonio had the tapir’s head baking in the ground, from whence rose a hot but fragrant steam. It proved to be very good eating, as did also the feet and the neck, but the flesh of the animal in general was abominably coarse and insipid, although my companions seemed to relish it greatly. I found it, like that of the manitus, exceedingly laxative.
Some idea may be formed of the tapir’s tenacity of life, when I say that I counted upward of thirty lance-thrusts in the body of the one we killed, none of which were less than six inches deep, and nearly all penetrating into the cavity of the body! It rarely happens, therefore, that the animal is killed by the individual hunter. The hide is quite asthick, and I think harder than that of the manitus, which, when dried, it closely resembles.
I should weary the reader were I to enter into all the details of our life at the “Tapir Camp,” as I called it, in honor of the exploit I have just recounted. During the eight days which we spent there, I learned more of nature and her works than I had known before. I spent hours in watching the paths of the black ants, tracing them to their nests in the trees, which were dark masses, as large as a barrel, made up of fragments of leaves cemented together. From these paths, which were from four to six inches wide, all grass, leaves, sticks, and other obstructions, had been removed, and along them poured an unbroken column of ants, thousands on thousands, those bound from the nest hurrying down one side of the path, and those bound in, each carrying aloft a piece of green leaf, perhaps half an inch square—a mimic army with banners—hurrying up the other. I amused myself, sometimes, by putting obstructions across the path, and watching the surging up of the interrupted columns. Then could be seen fleet couriers hurrying off to the nest, and directly the path would be crowded with a heavy reënforcement, invariably headed by eight or ten ants of larger size, who appeared to be the engineers of the establishment. These would climb over and all around the obstruction, apparently calculating the chances of effecting its removal. If not too heavy, they disposed their regiments, and dragged it away by a grand simultaneous effort.But if, on examination, they thought its removal impossible, they hurried to lay out a road around it, clearing away the grass, leaves, twigs, and pebbles with consummate skill, each column working toward the other. The best drilled troops could not go more systematically and intelligently to work, nor have executed their task with greater alacrity and energy. No sooner was it done, than, putting themselves at the head of their workies, the engineers hastened back as they came, ready to obey the next requisition upon their strength and skill.
Here I may mention that there is no end of ants under the tropics. They swarm every where, of unnumbered varieties—from little creatures, of microscopic proportions, to those of the size of our wasp. It is always necessary, when on land, to hang one’s provisions by cords from the branches of trees, or they would literally be eaten up in a single night. There is one variety, called thehormegas, by the Spaniards, which has an insatiate appetite for leather, especially boots, and will eat them full of holes in a few hours. All the varieties ofacaciasteem with a small red, or “fire ant,” whose bite is like the prick of a red-hot needle. The unfortunate traveler who gets them in any considerable numbers on his person, is driven to distraction for the time being. It is difficult to imagine keener torment.
Thousands of small, light-colored bees gathered round the fallen trunks of the coyol-palms, to collect the honey-like liquid that exuded here and there, as the juice began to ferment. I soon ascertainedthat they were stingless, and amused myself in watching their industrious zeal. I gradually came to observe that when each had gathered his supply, he rose, by a succession of circuits, high in the air, and then darted off in a certain direction. Carefully watching their course, I finally traced them to a low, twisted tree, on the edge of the swamp, in the hollow of which they had their depository. Of course, I regarded this as a fortunate discovery, and we were not slow to turn it to our advantage. I had less scruples in cutting down the tree, and turning the busy little dwellers out on the world, since they had no winter to provide for, and could easily take care of themselves. The supply of honey proved to be very small, and seemed to have been collected chiefly for the support of the young bees. We obtained only four bottles full from the tree. In taste it proved to be very unlike our northern honey, having a sharp, pungent, half-fermented flavor, causing, when eaten pure, a choking contraction of the muscles of the throat. Antonio mixed some of it with the “vino de coyol,” which, after fermentation, produced a very delicious, but strong, and most intoxicating kind ofliqueur.
On the afternoon of the eighth day, the moon having reached her last quarter, we packed our little boat, and just as the night fell, worked our way slowly through the little, obstructed canal to the lagoon, which now expanded to the north. We paddled boldly through the middle, the better to avoid observation from the shore. The night wasdark, but wonderfully still, and I could hear distinctly the sound of drums and revelry from the villages on the eastern shore, although they must have been fully three miles distant.
I left “Tapir Camp” with real regret. The days had glided by tranquilly, and I had enjoyed a calm content, to which I had before been a stranger. For the first time, I was able to comprehend the feeling, gathering strength with every day, which induces men, sometimes the most brilliant and prosperous, to banish themselves from the world, and seek, in utter retirement, the peace which only flows from a direct converse with nature, and an earnest self-communion.