Forward being the word, we quickly cleared the town of Acapulco. Its
outskirts bear a cultivated appearance, owing to the rows of trees which
are planted for some distance at the side of the footpath. At this
season they bore a bunchy mauve-coloured flower, something between the
lilac and the beautiful climber Wistaria; but the blossom was not so
clearly defined, and it crumbled away in the hand at the slightest
touch.
It was pleasant to find the China rose (with such a lovely pink on its
cheek!) peeping out here and there from a dilapidated hedge. This place
must surely be some deserted garden. A look through a gap confirmed this
conjecture, as we descried several tall hollyhock-looking plants,
bearing about them a decided air of culture. They appeared as if they
were on guard, distracting by their gaudy array the attention of the
passers-by from the desolation within.
A party endowed with plenty of life and _tongue_ generally travels
quickly, and gets over a good span of ground and time at almost
imperceptible speed. This was certainly the case with us as on and on we
went, admiring the fantastic peaks and heights by which the near
distance was intersected, and grumbling a little when the ascent became
more abrupt, and the road rougher. Very shortly granite rocks, and their
usual companion the dwarf cactus, stood out upon the scene; the huts,
too, had become more sparse; these were little else than bare poles,
with their roofing composed of dirty skins and palm-leaves. Then utter
desolation: for nothing living, save a large hare, which darted into
some brushwood in the background, gave evidence that any created thing
existed here.
My surprise was great when I heard this animal declared to be a hare.
“It is so large and black,” objected I.
“Years ago, when I landed from a merchant vessel here for a day, this
place was overrun by hares. I remember we made a party to go into the
interior and shoot them. They were mostly large, and the flesh was very
coarse,” made answer Mr Cookes.
“You have been here before?” inquired Beauty O’H——.
“I have been almost all over Mexico and the coast,” returned Mr Cookes;
“but I was only on shore at Acapulco for the one day I allude to, and
that was twenty years ago.”
“This is how you come to speak Spanish so well,” said the same young
lady.
“Yes; I kept it up in Mexico; but I learned the language in Spain, in
the old country. When very young I was sent into a counting-house at
Cadiz; but I soon tired of that, and turned sailor.”
“You know all about Popocatepetl then?” continued Beauty.
“No; I don’t feel interested in mountains; I have seen such a lot of
them. This one is the highest in America, they say; but it is only,
after all, a volcano out of work.”
“Doctor,” said she, turning round, and speaking to him with an air of
confidence; “you know something about this mountain. Why is it thought
so much of, and where did it get its frightful name?”
“It got its frightful name in very far-off times,” replied that
gentleman; “I cannot tell you when, but it was so called when the
Spaniards invaded Mexico, and conquered that country. The meaning of
Popocatepetl is ‘The hill that smokes.’”
“It does not smoke now?”
“No; but at the time of the invasion I allude to, it was in full play;
and the eruption was so terrific, and lasted so long, that the Indians
believed it to be the portent of the destruction of their city. You
should read ‘The Conquest of Mexico,’ by Prescott. You will learn all
about it far better in that work than from me.”
“Prescott is an American?”
“Yes,” returned the doctor, proudly; “and his writings are accepted as
being standard works in all the civilised world. If you prefer to select
an English author on the subject, read Robertson.”
“Certainly not,” replied the girl hastily; “you Americans are so touchy.
I only inquired what Prescott’s nationality was, to satisfy my own
ignorance.”
“Come up here, all of you,” shouted a voice from the front—the owner
being perched on an elevated ridge a little to the right, and taking
advantage of the height to look down upon us with the air of a
discoverer. This was the student Paul.
We hastened to obey. The other students helped up the girls, the
Spaniard helped me, and I hauled Mr Cookes, who was lame, with my
disengaged hand, the doctor propelling him in the rear.
Hats off, shouting, and an improvised war-dance on the part of the
students, announced us to be in the presence of Popocatepetl, that is,
as far as eyesight was concerned. Actually it was many, many leagues
away in the far distance.
In the far distance—true; but well did we discern this magnificent peak,
shooting like a monolith straight and fair into the clouds. Was his form
irregular; had he gaping wounds, black with cinder and burn, and
disfigured by smoke? The rich soft mantle of snow veiled all these; and
troops of smaller cones far and wide, more sober in their greyer tones,
clustered around him to conceal his scars and his power for evil. From
the point whence we viewed him, he was the giant grand and beautiful,
and we ignored the destructions which he had wrought.
“Let him not arouse,” pray we; for should His hand unloose him, who can
tell what miseries the pent-up fires of a century may rain on the earth?
Some longing, lingering looks, and we descend into the road which will
take us back to the town! Our tongues are free, for the weird solemn
scene had subdued the youngest of us into silence.
Now we all burst forth into praise, and admire ourselves intensely for
undertaking this pilgrimage. Ere long it leaks out that some of us are
tired, and all confess to feeling very hungry and thirsty.
Good Señor Hernandez is equal to this occasion.
“I have an old friend,” said he, “whose _hacienda_ is very near the
town,—it will not be many steps out of the way. If he does not happen to
be at home, some of the family will be. They are kind, hospitable
people, and will make us welcome.”
“But we are such a gang,” one of our number reminded Señor Hernandez.
“Never mind; there is plenty of room, and my friend is a Spaniard of
pure race.” This last expression meant many things; amongst which the
declaration of there being no admixture of Indian blood in the
composition of Señor Hernandez’s friend was one; another, that a true
Spaniard never quarrels with the number of his guests.
So we hied to the _hacienda_ of Señor Don Candido, and were admitted
through a broken gate into a piece of ground, half coffee plantation,
half garden, and whole wilderness,—brilliant flowers dotting themselves
here and there, mostly set on tall stalks. They reminded me somewhat of
some pert damsels I have seen, who were determined not to be overlooked.
A long low building stood in the centre of this enclosure; and presently
there poured out from this men, women, dogs, unlimited in number as they
appeared, followed by a very handsome lad who carried a gun in his hand.
Introductions over, we were soon seated in the broad verandah—which is
generally the place of social gatherings in these Spanish houses. Some
handsomely netted hammocks and some plain grass ones were slung between
the several posts of the verandah. Out of one of these a head was raised
up, and as quickly popped back again.
“It is only Pepita,” said the lady of the house, in explanation. “Poor
Pepita! she runs about too much. Sleep on,” she continued, addressing
the bulge in the hammock; “these good friends will excuse thee.” And she
gave the hammock a swing, which, I suppose, sent Pepita off to the land
of Nod, but which effectually roused a cross parrot which had been
reposing with its mistress, and which flew out of its enclosure, and
without the slightest provocation made straight for me and attempted to
bite my feet. Failing in this, the bird clung to my skirts, and
attempted to climb upon me beneath them. I tried to push the creature
away, but it seemed bent upon tasting European flesh; and as the O’H——
girls were afraid to touch it, I had to rise to my feet and hurl it from
me. Just then the handsome lad—who was called, I heard, Jaime (this is
pronounced Ha-ee-may, and is Castilian for our ugly, abrupt
James)—caught sight of what was going on, and proceeded to put a stop to
the parrot’s annoyance, for it was rushing at me again.
Don Jaime left the verandah-post against which he had been leaning as he
chatted to Señor Hernandez, and brought out from some corner a long and
very thin bamboo switch. With this he administered four or five cuts
sharply across the back and wings of the bird, reproving it as he did so
just as if it had been a child under correction.
“Ah, naughty Marquita! Take thy whipping; this is to teach thee manners.
Wicked bird! How dare you try to bite!”
I had never seen a bird whipped before; and fearing that he might do it
a mischief, I begged the lad to refrain.
“She must be tamed,” replied the lad, as he desisted at once; “she is of
a very strong kind, and her temper is that of the _demonio_. No, I would
not hurt her; I know how much to correct her.”
All this time the bird was yelling and squeaking like a veritable
_demonio_, and flew to the roof of the verandah, describing wide circles
about Don Jaime’s head, and making as if she would attack him with all
the strength of her will. The bamboo switch was evidently a factor in
the case; and at length she flew up into a corner and contented herself
with emitting now and then some peculiar sounds, which possibly might be
hard bird-swearing.
The party at the other end of the verandah talked calmly on, and never
appeared even to notice the hubbub which this had occasioned. I suppose
in these parts it is not the correct thing to expend unnecessary
strength upon being surprised.
Some excellent coffee and fruit were handed to us, and at the same time
cigars were offered to all who would accept them. The lady of the house
presented her own to me, first lighting it and giving it two or three
puffs at her mouth as she did so. This is the most complimentary manner
of presenting a cigar, and I felt sorry that natural and national
prejudices obliged me to decline the civility. The hostess soon found a
grateful recipient in one of our fellow-travellers, and then she and her
daughters smoked away as hard as any three London cabmen.
The Misses O’H—— proposed to stroll out into the garden, and the
handsome Jaime put down his coffee-cup and attended us. He plucked some
fine China roses, and placing these against a background of coffee-tree
stems laden with berries, produced three beautiful and unique bouquets.
This young gentleman told us that he was a nephew of the owner of the
house, and that he was paying a visit at this time to Acapulco. We were
all very much taken with the appearance of the youth, and his kind
unaffected manner was truly charming.
“What a lout the ordinary British youth of the same age would be in this
position!” said the eldest Miss O’H—— to me, as we walked behind the
others. “He would be wishing all of us in Japan, and suffer the extreme
of misery in his own mind.”
“True,” I answered; “but remember, when the ordinary British lad arrives
at maturity, he generally remains in the plenitude of strength and
manhood for many years. When Lubin is fifty, Antonio will be looking,
and probably feeling, sixty-five. The Spanish women, you know, are
considered to be old at thirty; but they are formed and lovely at
fifteen.”
“I do not understand why this should be,” continued my young friend.
“Nor I either. I suppose it is in some degree a fulfilment of the
doctrine of compensation.”
“Ah! that is my father’s favourite theory, don’t you know?”
“No, dear Hibernia, I did not know; but I agree with your father. I
confess to being a great believer in the doctrine of compensation.”
“Have you had any compensation in your life for your early troubles?
None of us have, and papa has been done out of a lot of money,” said the
girl.
“So have I also; but compensation may not come in the way we expect.
Good health, happiness, getting married, my dear, on your part, and not
getting married on mine, may perhaps be a compensation for the loss of
money.”
So preached I; and the kind-hearted girl pressed my arm, and said she
only wished that I had a large fortune, and that I could finish my
journey with her and her family. This could not be, for the O’H——’s were
on their way to New York.
Now were gathered together our forces, for we must be back on our way to
the vessel. The doctor was missing. Somebody surmised that he had
already returned to the ship. However, we unanimously decided that he
would turn up somewhere; and then we all took leave, having well enjoyed
our simple and cordial entertainment.
“Ah! there you are, doctor; we could not think what had become of you,”
exclaimed Mr Cookes, as he caught sight of that gentleman sitting on a
step busy overhauling the contents of a candle-box-looking article. “We
thought you had turned back for metal more attractive—the Mexican
shell-worker.”
“You thought wrong, then. I strayed out of the way to look for some
marine plants, for I aspire to be a little of a botanist. Not having the
faintest idea where you had got to, I walked straight here; for you
would be obliged to pass this place to get to the pier.”
“This place” was a large and well-stocked store, hung without and within
with a wonderful collection of articles, and kept by a veritable
Englishman. I wanted some large white handkerchiefs wherewith to cover
my shoulders during my proposed ride, as the back of the neck, at the
juncture of the head with the spine, is the part which should be more
carefully covered even than the head itself under a burning sun.
The girls, too, wanted the gayest handkerchiefs they could find, to
remind them of Mexico when they arrived at home.
We were supplied with what we required at a terrific price. The
shopkeeper must have netted forty per cent on an average upon our
purchases.
“We pay very high for the privilege of dealing with a countryman,”
remarked Mr Cookes. “The French, Greeks, and Spaniards certainly do
bleed foreigners pretty freely, but it is reserved to the English all
over the world to overcharge and swindle those of their own nation.
Other peoples are considerate to their own, but we are above the
weakness of making any exception.”
“Really?”
“That is my experience in these countries. Depend upon it, the worst
people to be encountered in any part of the world are the low whites,”
went on Mr Cookes. “They get all they can out of the natives, and then,
in some cases, go home and cant about the wickedness of the heathen.”
This is in a measure true, as I knew by experience in the Fiji Islands,
and from statements of friends on whom I could rely.
Returning in the boat to the vessel, I found myself again seated near
the doctor. He asked me to spare him a stem of the coffee-berries.
“I want them,” said he, with a little hesitation, “for a ‘school marm.’
She is a good girl, and, though an American, she _has_ the low soft
voice so beautiful in woman.” Here the doctor looked very valiant, as if
he would not recede an inch from what he had averred.
I handed him the stem of coffee-berries, and with it the finest of my
roses. “The ‘school marm’ will be the doctor’s wife some fine day, I
predict,” said I, shaking him by the hand. “Now, do you dry that rose,
and some far-off time you may chance upon it, and remember our little
excursion in Acapulco.”
The good gentleman returned the pressure of my hand, and merely replied,
“Yes; this has been a red-letter day.”
“May all go well with you. Good-bye.”
The boat had touched the ship’s stair, and the doctor, after placing me
on the lower step, ran rapidly up on deck. Thus vanished out of my
sight, probably for ever, one of my pleasant travelling friends.
The captain was standing on board as we ascended. “I have not had time
to say much to you,” said he, addressing me; “but I hear you are going
to the Honduras. Surely it is a terrible journey for you to take alone!”
“I do not fear a little hardship,” said I, perhaps too confidently. “I
am the daughter and sister of English soldiers, and my bringing up has
never been luxurious. Circumstances in later years have compelled me to
depend on myself.”
“It is a wonder to me,” continued the captain, “that your relatives
allow you to go.”
“I have no near relations, and I go to make a home of my own. We have
all of us our troubles, captain; do not discourage me. Hitherto I have
got on very well, and the world in general is kind to lone female
travellers.”
“Yes, the civilised world.” The captain here shook his head.
I turned aside to answer a summons. The speaker was a bedroom steward.
“Mr Smith sends me to ask you to get together your things, please, for
the boat will be ready in twenty minutes to take you on board the
Clyde.”
I looked at my roses and my beautiful bunch of coffee-berries, and
handed them silently over to the youngest Miss O’H——; for—the truth must
out—I was to say good-bye, and leave these friends of a few days “for
ever and a day,” as the saying goes. Yes; there stood the vessel
alongside of the Colima, the steamer which we had seen in the harbour
before we went ashore. She was called the Clyde, was smaller than the
Colima, and warranted slow.
This vessel had been all day taking in and discharging cargo, and now
was ready to receive the last of the passengers of the Colima who might
be bound to the intermediate ports. The future mission of the Colima was
to dash down to Panama without a stoppage; whilst the Clyde was to
dawdle leisurely along the coast, stop at every port, and to cast anchor
every night from sundown to sunrise.
“Why is this?” I inquired of Mr Smith, the head steward,—that kindest
and most courteous of head stewards, wherever the others may be.
“The navigation is particularly dangerous along that coast, and in some
places the water is very shallow and abounds in shoals. The steamers
always lay-to at night. The voyage down there will be very tedious, and
the heat terrible, you’ll find,” returned Mr Smith. “Do not be startled
at the lightning. It is very alarming to a stranger, but you will soon
be accustomed to that. This is the season for it.”
“We have had a pretty fair share since we left San Francisco. Will it be
worse as we go further south?” I inquired.
“No; but you will think more of it, as you will be lying still, and the
steamer also. I mention the subject, to assure you that I have never
heard of any vessel being struck; and although moving objects, they say,
run less risk, the lightning on this coast seems to respect vessels at
anchor.”
“Are any more of our passengers changing for the Clyde?” I inquired.
“One steerage passenger,—a gentleman in every sense of the word. He goes
only as far as La Union, but he is willing to be useful to you if he
can. I am sorry to say that terrible ‘lady,’ Mrs C., and her children,
will be your only companions. I transferred them to the other ship three
hours ago, and they have been shrieking ever since. By the way,”
continued Mr Smith, with his good-natured laugh, “the captain of the
Clyde is in a terrible fright as to what you may be like, as these C.’s
are the only specimens he has of the Colima’s passengers, and Mrs C.
talks of her friend the English lady!”
I had only spoken to this individual once. She was a
demi-semi-gentlewoman, and her manners and appearance were very
unfortunate. Her hardness to one of her children, and the brazen way in
which she had informed the passengers in general that she had come away
in debt, and evaded her tradespeople in San Francisco, had caused us to
dislike her thoroughly.
We found that her husband was captain of a mine somewhere on the coast
of Guatemala, and that she and her family were on the way to join him.
According to her own account, she had left San Francisco in disguise;
but from various discrepancies in her narrations, I was led to think
that she preferred being taken for a vagabond than to pass as one of
whom there was nothing particular to be said.
Here they are, the boat and Mr Smith waiting to transfer me to the
Clyde. He brings in his hand a glass of champagne, which is sent, he
says, “with the Colima’s compliments.” The O’H——’s and students say
good-bye with all the kindliness of their nature; and gentle, unassuming
Señor Hernandez tells me not to keep him waiting, for he is coming on
board with me to introduce me to the captain. And so I get away, with a
benison in my heart on these kindly strangers. This was all my adieu,
for I could not speak. _El buen Dios los guarde mûchos años!_ (May God
grant them many years!)