Chapter XI.
We were not many days in exhausting the resources of the Towkas village, in the way of adventures; and, one sunny afternoon, packed our little boat, and, bidding our entertainers good-by, paddled down the river, on our voyage to Sandy Bay—next to Bluefields, the principal Sambo establishment on the coast. Our course lay, a second time, through Wava Lagoon, which connects, by a narrow and intricate channel or creek, with a larger lagoon to the northward, called Duckwarra. The night was quiet and beautiful—the crescent moon filling the air with a subdued and dreamy light, soothing and slumbrous, and so blending the real with the ideal that I sometimes imagine it might all have been a dream! My companions, if they did not share the influences of the night, at least respected my silence, and we glided on and on,without a sound save the steady dip of the paddles, and the gentle ripple of the water, which closed in mimic whirlpools on our track.
When morning broke, we had already entered Duckwarra Lagoon, the largest we had encountered since leaving Pearl-Cay. It had the same appearance with all the others, and, having nothing to detain us, we steered directly across, only stopping near noon on one of the numerous islets, to cook our breakfast, and escape the midday heats. This islet was, perhaps, two hundred yards across, and elevated in the centre some fifteen or twenty feet above the water. Near the apex were growing a number of ancient palms, and, strolling up to them, I found at their roots a small elevation, or tumulus, perhaps fifteen feet in diameter at the base, and five or six feet high. Its regularity arrested my attention, and led me to believe that it was artificial. I called to Antonio, who at once pronounced it a burying-place of the “Antiguos.” I proposed opening it, but my companions seemed loth to disturb the resting-place of the dead. However, finding that I had commenced the work without them, they joined me, and with our machetes and paddles, we rapidly removed the earth. Near the original surface of the ground, we came to some bones, but they were so much decayed that they crumbled beneath the fingers. Uncovering them further, we found at the head of the skeleton a rude vase, which was got out without much damage. Carefully removing the earth from the interiorI found that it contained a number of chalcedonic pebbles, pierced as if for beads, a couple of arrow-heads of similar material, and a small ornament of thin, plate gold, rudely representing a human figure, as shown in the accompanying engraving, which is of the size of the original. At the feet of the skeleton we also discovered another small vase of coarse pottery, which, however, contained no relics. Antonio seemed much interested in the little golden image, but finally, after minute examination, returned it to me, saying, that although his own people in Yucatan often buried beneath tumuli, and had golden idols which they placed with the dead, yet, in workmanship, they were unlike the one we had discovered.
“Ah!” he continued, his eyes lighting with unusual fire, “you should see the works of our ancestors! They were gods, those ancient, holy men! Their temples were built for them byKabul, the Lord of the Powerful Hand, who set the seal of his bloody palm upon them all! You shall go with me to the sacred lake of the Itzaes, where our people are gathered to receive the directions of the Lord of Teaching, whose name isVotan Balam, who led our fathers thither, and who has promised to rescue them from their afflictions!”
He stopped suddenly, as if alarmed at what he had said, kissed his talisman, and relapsed again into the quiet, mild-eyed Indian boy, submissively awaiting my orders.
We left Duckwarra Lagoon by a creek connecting it with Sandy Bay Lagoon, and on the second afternoon from Wava River, arrived at the Sambo settlement, which is on its southern shore, about eight miles from the sea. It stands upon the edge of a savannah, that rises to the southward and eastward, forming, toward the sea, a series of bluffs, the principal of which is called Bragman’s Bluff, and is the most considerable landmark on the coast.
The town has something the appearance of Bluefields, and contains perhaps five hundred inhabitants, who affect “English fashion” in dress and modes of living. That is to say, many of them wear English hats, even when destitute of every other article of clothing, except thetournou, or breech-cloth. These hats are of styles running back for thirty years, and, moreover, crushed into a variety of shapes which are infinitely ludicrous, especially when the wearers affect gravity or dignity. A naked man cannot make himself absolutely ridiculous, for nature never exposes her creations to humiliation; but the attempts at art, in making up the man on the Mosquito Shore, I must confess, were melancholy failures.
Before we got to the village, the beating of drums, and the occasional firing off of muskets, announced that some kind of a feast or celebration was going on. As we approached nearer I saw the English flag displayed upon a tall bamboo, planted in the centre of a group of huts. I saw also a couple ofboats, of European construction, drawn up on the beach, from which I inferred that there must be a trading vessel on the coast, and that I was just in time to witness one of the orgies which always follow upon such an event. I had had some misgivings as to the probable reception we should meet, in case the news of our affair with the Quamwatlas had reached here, and felt not a little reassured when I saw indications of the presence of foreigners.
The people were all so absorbed with their festivities that our approach was not noticed; but when we got close to the shore, I fired off both barrels of my gun by way of salute. An instant after, a number of men came out from among the huts, and hurried down to the beach. Meantime I had got out my “King-paper,” and leaped ashore.
The crowd that huddled around me would have put Falstaff’s tatterdemalion army to shame. The most conspicuous character among them wore a red check shirt, none of the cleanest, and a threadbare undress coat of a British general, but had neither shoes nor breeches. Nor was he equally favored with Captain Drummer in respect of a hat. Instead of a venerable chapeau, like that worn by the captain with so much dignity, he had an ancient bell-crowned “tile,” which had once been white, but was now of equivocal color, and which, apparently from having been repeatedly used as a seat, was crushed up bellows’ fashion, and cocked forward in a most absurd manner.
The wearer of this imposing garb had alreadyreached the stage of “big drunk,” and his English, none of the best at any time, was now of a very uncertain character. He staggered up, as if to embrace me, slapping his breast with one hand, and druling out “I General Slam—General Peter Slam!” I avoided the intended honor by stepping on one side, the consequence of which was, that if the General had not been caught by Antonio, he certainly would have plunged into the lagoon.
I made a marked display of my “King-paper,” and commenced to read it to the General, but he motioned me to put it up, saying, “All good! very great good! I Peter Slam, General!” Meantime the spectators were reinforced from the village, and drums were sent for. They were of English make, and of the biggest. General Slam then insisted on escorting me up from the beach, “English gentleman fashion!” and taking my arm in his unsteady grasp, he headed the procession, with a desperate attempt at steadiness, but nevertheless swaying from side to side, after the immemorial practice of drunken men.
The General was clearly the magnate of Sandy Bay, (called by the SambosSanaby,) and when we reached the centre of the village, where the feast was going on, we were saluted by a “hurrah!” given “English fashion.” Here I noticed a big canoe full ofmishla, around which the drinking and dancing was uninterrupted. General Slam took me at once to his own house or hut, where the traders in whose honor the feast was got up, were quartered.I found there the captain and clerk, and two of the crew of the “London Belle,” a trading vessel which had recently arrived at Cape Gracias, from Jamaica. There was also an Englishman, named H——, who lived at the Cape, and who seemed to hold here a corresponding position with Mr. Bell in Bluefields. They were all reclining on crickeries, or in hammocks, and appeared to be on terms of easy familiarity with a number of very sleek young girls, in whose laps they were resting their heads, and whose principal occupation, in the intervals of not over delicate dalliance, was that of passing round glasses of a kind of punch, compounded of Jamaica rum, the juice of the sugar-cane, and a variety of crushed fruits.
GENERAL PETER SLAM.
GENERAL PETER SLAM.
GENERAL PETER SLAM.
The whole party was what is technically called “half-seas-over,” and welcomed me with that large liberality which is inseparable from that condition. The general was slapped on the back, and told to “bring in more girls, you bloody rascal, no skulking now!” Whereupon his hat was facetiously crushed down over his eyes by each one of his guests in succession, and he was kicked out of the door by the English captain, a rough brute of a man, who only meant to be playful.
I had barely time to observe that General Slam’s house was not entirely without evidences of civilization. Upon one side was a folding table, and ship’s sideboard, or locker, both probably from some wreck. In the latter were a quantity of tumblers, decanters, plates, and other articles of Christianuse; and on the walls hung a few rude lithographs, gaudily colored. Among them—strange juxtaposition!—was a picture of Washington.
My survey was interrupted by a great tumult near the hut, and a moment after, half a dozen Sambos, reeking with their filthymishla, staggered in at the door, dragging after them a full-blooded Indian, quite naked, and his body bleeding in several places, from blows and scratches received at the hands of his savage assailants. The Sambos pushed him toward the English captain, ejaculating, “Him! him!” while the Indian himself stood in perfect silence, his thin lips compressed, and his eyes fixed on the captain. The conduct of the latter was in keeping with that of the drunken wretches who had dragged the Indian to the hut, and who, vociferating some unintelligible jargon, were brandishing their clubs over his head, and occasionally hitting viciously with them at his feet.
“That’s the bloody villain, is it!” said the captain, leaping from his crickery, and striking the Indian a terrible blow in the face, which felled him to the ground. “I’ll learn him proper respect for the King!” This act was followed by stamping his foot heavily on the fallen and apparently insensible Indian.
The entire proceeding was to me inexplicable; but this last brutality roused my indignation. I grasped the captain by the collar of his coat, and hurled him across the hut. “Do you pretend to be an Englishman,” I said, “and yet set such anexample to these savages? What has this Indian done?” “I’ll let you know what he has done,” he shrieked, rather than spoke, in a wild paroxysm of rage; and, grasping a knife from the table, he drove at me, with all his force. Maddened and drunk as he was, I had only to step aside to avoid the blow. Missing his mark, he stumbled over the fallen Indian, and fell upon the knife, which pierced through and through his left arm, just below the shoulder. Quick as lightning the Indian leaped forward, tore the knife from the wound, and in another instant would have driven it to the captain’s heart, had I not arrested his arm. He glanced up in my face, dropped the knife, and folding his arms, stood erect and silent.
The captain’s companions, with the exception of Mr. H., were much inclined to be belligerent, but the revolver in my belt inspired them with a wholesome discretion.
Meantime, the captain’s wound had been bound up, and the Indian had withdrawn. The Sambos had retreated the instant I had interposed against the violence of the trader.
The occasion of this brutal assault was simply this. The Sambos, living on the coast, effectually cut off the Indians from the sea, and, availing themselves of their position, and the advantage of firearms, make exactions of various kinds from them. Thus, if the Indians go off to the cays for turtles, they require from them a certain proportion of the shells, which is called the “king’s portion.” But asthe Jamaica traders always keep the king and chiefs in debt to them, the shells thus collected go directly into their hands. In fact, it is only through the means which they afford, and often by their direct interference, that the nominal authority of the so-called king is kept up. It was alleged that the Indian whom the captain had abused, and who was a very expert fisherman, had not made a fair return; and his want of “proper respect for the king,” it turned out, consisted in not having a sufficient quantity of shells to satisfy the cupidity of the trader!
After this occurrence at General Slam’s house, I did not find it agreeable to stay there longer, and, accordingly, strolled off in the village. The festival had now become uproarious. Around themishlacanoe was a motley assemblage of men, women, and children; some with red caps and frocks, others strutting about with half a shirt, and others entirely naked. A number of men with pipes and drums kept up an incessant noise, while others, with muskets, which they filled with powder almost to the muzzle, fired occasional volleys, when all joined in a generalhurrah, “English fashion.”
At a little distance was built up a rude fence of palm-branches and pine-boughs, behind which there was a crowd of men laughing and shouting in a most convulsive manner. I walked forward, and saw that only males were admitted behind the screen of boughs. Here, in the midst of a large circle of spectators, were two men, dressed in anextraordinary manner, and performing the most absurd antics. Around their necks each had a sort of wooden collar, whence depended a fringe of palm-leaves, hanging nearly to their feet. Their headdresses terminated in a tall, thin strip of wood, painted in imitation of the beak of a saw-fish, while their faces were daubed with various colors, so as completely to change the expression of the features. In each hand they had a gourd containing pebbles, with which they marked time in their dances. These were entirely peculiar, and certainly very comical. First they approached each other, and bent down their tall head-pieces with the utmost gravity, by way of salute; then sidled off like crabs, singing a couplet which had both rhythm and rhyme, but, so far as I could discover, no sense. As interpreted to me, afterward, by Mr. H——, it ran thus:—
“Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother, grandmother!Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother!”
“Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother, grandmother!Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother!”
“Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother, grandmother!Shovel-nosed shark,Grandmother!”
“Shovel-nosed shark,
Grandmother, grandmother!
Shovel-nosed shark,
Grandmother!”
When the performers got tired, their places were taken by others, who exhausted their ingenuity in devising grotesque and ludicrous variations.
When evening came, fires of pine wood were lighted in all directions, and the drinking and dancing went on, growing noisier and more outrageous as the night advanced. Many got dead drunk, and were carried off by the women. Others quarreled, but the women, with wise foresight, had carriedoff and hidden all their weapons, and thus obliged them to settle their disputes with their fists, “English fashion.” To me, these boxing bouts were exceedingly amusing. Instead of parrying each others’ strokes, they literally exchanged them. First one would deliver his blow, and then stand still and take that of his opponent, blow for blow, until both became satisfied. Then they would take a drink ofmishlatogether, “English fashion,” and become friends again.
SUKIA OF SANDY BAY.
SUKIA OF SANDY BAY.
SUKIA OF SANDY BAY.
During the whole of the evening I found myself closely watched by a hideous old woman, who moved around among the revelers like a ghoul. Everybody made way for her when she approached, and none ventured to speak with her. There was something almost fascinating in her repulsiveness. Her hair was long and matted, and her shriveled skin appeared to adhere like that of a mummy to her bones; for she was emaciated to the last degree. The nails of herfingers were long and black, and caused her hands to look like the claws of some unclean bird. Her eyes were bloodshot, but bright and intense, and were constantly fixed upon me, like those of some wild beast on its prey. Wherever I moved she followed, even behind the screen concealing the masked dancers, where no other woman was admitted.
I lingered among the revelers until their antics ceased to be amusing, and became simply brutal. Both sexes finally gave themselves up to the grossest and most shameless debauchery, such as I have never heard ascribed to the most bestial of savages.
Disgusted and sickened, I turned away, and went down to the shore, preferring, after what had occurred at Slam’s house, to sleep in my boat, to trusting myself in the power of the wounded trader. So we pushed off a few hundred feet from the shore, and anchored for the night. I wrapped myself in my blanket, and, notwithstanding the noisy revels in the village, savage laughter and angry shouts, the beating of drums and firing of guns, I was soon asleep.
It was past midnight; the moon had gone down, the fires of the village were burning low, and the dancers, stupified and exhausted, only broke out in occasional spasmodic shrieks, when I was awakened by Antonio, who placed his finger on my lips in token of silence. I nevertheless started up in something of alarm, for the image of the skinny old hag, who had tracked me with her snaky eyes all theevening, had disturbed my dreams. To my surprise I found the Indian, whom I had rescued from the drunken violence of the trader, crouching in the bottom of the boat. He had already explained to Antonio, through the Poyer, that we were in great danger; that the old woman who had haunted me was a powerfulSukia, whose commands were always implicitly obeyed by the superstitious Sambos. Instigated by the discomfited trader, she had demanded our death, and even now her followers were planning the means to accomplish it. Our safety, he urged, depended upon our immediate departure, and then, as if relieved of a burden, he slipped quietly overboard, and swam toward the shore.
I was nothing loth to leave Sandy Bay, and we lost no time in getting up the large stone which served us for an anchor, and taking our departure. By morning we were clear of the lagoon, and in the channel leading from it to Wano Sound, lying about fifteen miles to the northward of Sandy Bay, and half that distance from Cape Gracias. We reached the sound about ten o’clock in the morning, and stopped for breakfast on a narrow sand-spit, where a few trees on the shore gave shade and fuel. The day was excessively hot, and we waited for the evening before pursuing our voyage. During the afternoon, however, we were joined by Mr. H., who had got wind of the designs of the trader, and attempted to warn us, but found that we had gone. Indignant at his treachery, he had abandoned the brutal captain, and determined to return to the Cape.
He explained to me that our danger had been greater than we had supposed. The oldSukiawoman possessed more power over the Sambos than king or chief, and her commands were never disputed or neglected. The grandfather of the present king, he said, had been killed by her order, as had also his great aunt; and although the immediate perpetrators of the deed had been executed, yet the king had not dared to bring the dreadedSukiato justice. She had, however, been obliged to leave Cape Gracias, lest, during the visit of some English vessel of war, she should be punished for complicity in the murder of a couple of Englishmen, named Collins and Pollard, who had been slaughtered some years before, while turtling on the cays off the coast. Another reason for her departure had been the advent of a more powerful and less malignantSukiawoman, who, he assured me, was gifted with prophecy, and a knowledge of things past and to come. He represented her as young, living in a very mysterious manner, far up the Cape River, among the mountains. None knew who she was, nor whence she came, nor had he seen her more than once, although he had consulted her by proxy on several occasions. I was amused at the gravity with which he recounted instances of her power over disease and her knowledge of events, and could not help thinking, that he had resided so long on the coast as to get infected with the superstitions of the people. There was, however, no mistaking his earnestness, and I consequently abstainedfrom ridiculing his stories. “You shall see and hear for yourself,” he added, “and then you will be better able to judge if I am a child to be deceived by the silly juggles of an Indian woman. These people have inherited from their ancestors many mysterious and wonderful powers; and even the inferior order ofSukiascan defy the poison of snakes, and the effects of fire. Flames and the bullets of guns are impotent against them.”
I found H. a man of no inconsiderable intelligence, and he gave me much information about the coast and its inhabitants, and, altogether, before embarking we had become fast friends, and I had accepted an invitation to make his house my home during my stay at the Cape.
I have several times alluded to the filthymishladrink, which is the universal appliance of the Sambos for getting up the “big drunk.” I never witnessed the disgusting process of its preparation, but it has been graphically described by Roberts, who was a trader on the coast, and who, twenty years before, had been a witness of the “rise and progress” of a grand debauch at Sandy Bay.
“Preparations were going on for a grand feast andmishladrink. For this purpose the whole population was employed—most of them being engaged in collecting pineapples, plantains, and cassava for their favorite liquor. The expressed juice of the pine-apple alone is a pleasant and agreeable beverage. Themishlafrom the plantain and banana, is also both pleasant and nutritive; thatfrom the cassava and maize is more intoxicating, but its preparation is a process exceedingly disgusting. The root of the cassava, after being peeled and mashed, is boiled to the same consistence as when it is used for food. It is then taken from the fire, and allowed to cool. The pots are now surrounded by all the women, old and young, who, being provided with large calabashes, commence an attack upon the cassava, which they chew to the consistence of a thick paste, and then put their mouthsful into the bowls, until the latter are filled. These are then emptied into a canoe which is drawn up for the purpose, until it is about one third filled. Other cassava is then taken, bruised in a kind of wooden mortar, until it is reduced to the consistence of dough, when it is diluted with cold water, to which is added a quantity of Indian corn, partly boiled and masticated, and then all is poured into the canoe, which is filled with water, and the mixture afterward frequently stirred with a paddle. In the course of a few hours it reaches a high and abominable state of fermentation. The liquor, it may be observed, is more or less esteemed, according to the health, age, and constitution of the masticators. And when the chiefs give a privatemishladrink, they confine the mastication to their own wives and young girls.”
After fermentation, themishlahas a cream-like appearance, and is to the highest degree intoxicating. The drinking never ceases, so long as a drop can be squeezed from the festering dregs that remain, after the liquid is exhausted.