Between the shores of the Mexican Gulf and the "foot-hills" (_piedmont_)
of the great chain of the Andes lies a strip of low lands. In many
places this belt is nearly a hundred miles in breadth, but generally
less than fifty. It is of a tropical character, termed in the language
of the country _tierra caliente_. It is mostly covered with jungly
forests, in which are found the palm, the tree-ferns, the mahogany and
india-rubber trees, dyewoods, canes, llianas, and many other gigantic
parasites. In the underwood you meet thorny aloes, the "pita" plant,
and wild mezcal; various Cactacese, and flora of singular forms,
scarcely known to the botanist. There are swamps, dark and dank,
overshadowed by the tall cypress, with its pendent streamers of silvery
moss (_Tillandsia usneoides_). From these arise the miasma--the mother
of the dreaded "vomito."
This unhealthy region is but thinly inhabited; but here you meet with
people of the African race, and nowhere else in Mexico. In the towns--
and there are but few--you see the yellow mulatto, and the pretty
quadroon with her black waving hair; but in the spare settlements of the
country you meet with a strange race--the cross of the negro with the
ancient inhabitants of the country--the "zamboes."
Along the coast and in the black country, behind Vera Cruz, you will
find these people living a half-indolent, half-savage life, as small
cultivators, cattle-herds, fishermen, or hunters. In riding through the
forest you may often chance upon such a picture as the following:--
There is an opening in the woods that presents an aspect of careless
cultivation--a mere patch cleared out of the thick jungle--upon which
grow yams, the sweet-potato (_Convolvulus batata_), chile, melons, and
the calabash. On one side of the clearing there is a hut--a sort of
shed. A few upright poles forked at their tops; a few others laid
horizontally upon them; a thatch of palm leaves to shadow the burning
rays of the sun--that is all.
In this shadow there are human beings--men, women, children. They wear
rude garments of white cotton cloth; but they are half-naked, and their
skins are dark, almost black. Their hair is woolly and frizzled. They
are not Indians, they are not negroes, they are "zamboes"--a mixture of
both. They are coarse-featured, and coarsely clad. You would find it
difficult, at a little distance, to distinguish their sex, did you not
know that those who swing in the hammocks and recline indolently upon
the palm-mats (_petates_) are the men, and those who move about and do
the work are the females. One of the former occasionally stimulates the
activity of the latter by a stroke of the "cuarto" (mule-whip).
A few rude implements of furniture are in the shed: a "metate" on which
the boiled maize is ground for the "tortilla" cakes; some "ollas" (pots)
of red earthenware; dishes of the calabash; a rude hatchet or two; a
"machete"; a banjo made from the gourd-shell; a high-peaked saddle, with
bridle and "lazo"; strings of red-pepper pods hanging from the
horizontal beams--not much more. A lank dog on the ground in front; a
lean "mustang" tied to the tree; a couple of "burros" (donkeys); and
perhaps a sorry galled mule in an inclosure adjoining.
The zambo enjoys his _dolce far niente_ while his wife does his work--
what work there is, but that is not much. There is an air of neglect
that impresses you; an air of spontaneity about the picture--for the
yams and the melons, and the chile-plants, half choked with weeds, seem
to grow without culture, and the sun gives warmth, so as to render
almost unnecessary the operations of the spindle and the loom.
The forest opens again, and another picture--a prettier one--presents
itself. It bears the aspect of a better cultivation, though still
impressing you with ideas of indolence and neglect. This picture is the
"rancho", the settlement of the small farmer, or "vaquero"
(cattle-herd). Its form is that of an ordinary house, with gables and
sloping roof, but its walls are peculiar. They are constructed of
gigantic bamboo canes, or straight poles of the _Fouquiera splendens_.
These are laced together by cords of the "pita" aloe; but the
interstices between are left open, so as freely to admit the breeze.
Coolness, not warmth, is the object of these buildings. The roof is a
thatch of palm-leaves, and with far-impending eaves casts off the heavy
rain of the tropics. The appearance is striking--more picturesque even
than the chalet of Switzerland.
There is but little furniture within. There is no table; there are few
chairs, and these of raw hide nailed upon a rude frame. There are
bedsteads of bamboo; the universal tortilla-stone; mats of palm-leaf;
baskets of the same material; a small altar-like fireplace in the middle
of the floor; a bandolin hanging by the wall; a saddle of stamped
leather, profusely ornamented with silver nails and plates; a hair
bridle, with huge Mameluke bit; an escopette and sword, or machete; an
endless variety of gaily-painted bowls, dishes, and cups, but neither
knife, fork, nor spoon. Such are the movables of a "rancho" in the
_tierra caliente_.
You may see the ranchero by the door, or attending to his small, wiry,
and spirited horse, outside. The man himself is either of Spanish blood
or a "mestizo" (half-breed). He is rarely a pure Indian, who is most
commonly a peon or labourer, and who can hardly be termed a "ranchero"
in its proper sense.
The ranchero is picturesque--his costume exceedingly so. His complexion
is swarthy, his hair is black, and his teeth are ivory white. He is
often moustached, but rarely takes the trouble to trim or keep these
ornaments in order. His whisker is seldom bushy or luxuriant. His
trousers (_calzoneros_) are of green or dark velvet, open down the
outside seams, and at the bottoms overlaid with stamped black leather,
to defend the ankles of the wearer against the thorny chaparral. A row
of bell buttons, often silver, close the open seams when the weather is
cold. There are wide drawers (_calzoncillos_) of fine white cotton
underneath; and these puff out through the seams, forming a tasty
contrast with the dark velvet. A silken sash, generally of scarlet
colour, encircles the waist; and its fringed ends hang over the hips.
The hunting-knife is stuck under it. There is a short jacket of
velveteen, tastefully embroidered and buttoned; a white cambric shirt,
elaborately worked and plaited; and over all a heavy, broad-brimmed hat
(_sombrero_), with silver or gold band, and tags of the same material
sticking out from the sides. He wears boots of red leather, and huge
spurs with bell rowels; and he is never seen without the "seraph". The
last is his bed, his blanket, his cloak, and his umbrella.
His wife may be seen moving about the rancho, or upon her knees before
the metate kneading tortillas, and besmearing them with _chile Colorado_
(red capsicum). She wears a petticoat or skirt of a naming bright
colour, very short, showing her well-turned but stockingless ankles,
with her small slippered feet. Her arms, neck, and part of her bosom
are nude, but half concealed by the bluish-grey scarf (_rebozo_) that
hangs loosely over her head.
The ranchero leads a free, easy life, burthened with few cares. He is
the finest rider in the world, following his cattle on horseback, and
never makes even the shortest journey on foot. He plays upon the
bandolin, sings an Andalusian ditty, and is fond of _chingarito_ (mezcal
whisky) and the "fandango."
Such is the ranchero of the _tierra caliente_ around Vera Cruz, and such
is he in all other parts of Mexico, from its northern limits to the
Isthmus.
But in the _tierra caliente_ you may also see the rich planter of
cotton, or sugar-cane, or cocoa (_cacao_), or the vanilla bean. His
home is the "hacienda". This is a still livelier picture. There are
many fields inclosed and tilled. They are irrigated by the water from a
small stream. Upon its banks there are cocoa-trees; and out of the rich
moist soil shoot up rows of the majestic plantain, whose immense
yellow-green leaves, sheathing the stem and then drooping gracefully
over, render it one of the most ornamental productions of the tropics,
as its clustering legumes of farinaceous fruit make it one of the most
useful. Low walls, white or gaily painted, appear over the fields, and
a handsome spire rises above the walls. That is the "hacienda" of the
planter--the "rico" of the _tierra caliente_, with its out-buildings and
chapel belfry. You approach it through scenes of cultivation. "Peons",
clad in white cotton and reddish leathern garments, are busy in the
fields. Upon their heads are broad-brimmed hats, woven from the leaf of
the sombrero palm. Their legs are naked, and upon their feet are tied
rude sandals (_guaraches_) with leathern thongs. Their skins are dark,
though not black; their eyes are wild and sparkling; their looks grave
and solemn; their hair coarse, long, and crow-black; and, as they walk,
their toes turn inward. Their downcast looks, their attitudes and
demeanour, impress you with the conviction that they are those who carry
the water and hew the wood of the country. It is so. They are the
"Indios mansos" (the civilised Indians): slaves, in fact, though freemen
by the letter of the law. They are the "peons", the labourers, the
serfs of the land--the descendants of the conquered sons of Anahuac.
Such are the people you find in the _tierra caliente_ of Mexico--in the
environs of Vera Cruz. They do not differ much from the inhabitants of
the high plains, either in costume, customs, or otherwise. In fact,
there is a homogeneousness about the inhabitants of all Spanish
America--making allowance for difference of climate and other
peculiarities--rarely found in any other people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before daybreak of the morning after my interview with the "swearing
major", a head appeared between the flaps of my tent. It was that of
Sergeant Bob Lincoln.
"The men air under arms, Cap'n."
"Very well," cried I, leaping from my bed, and hastily buckling on my
accoutrements.
I looked forth. The moon was still brightly shining, and I could see a
number of uniformed men standing upon the company parade, in double
rank. Directly in front of my tent a small boy was saddling a very
small horse. The boy was "Little Jack", as the soldiers called him; and
the horse was little Jack's mustang, "Twidget."
Jack wore a tight-fitting green jacket, trimmed with yellow lace, and
buttoned up to the throat; pantaloons of light green, straight cut, and
striped along the seams; a forage-cap set jauntily upon a profusion of
bright curls; a sabre with a blade of eighteen inches, and a pair of
clinking Mexican spurs. Besides these, he carried the smallest of all
rifles. Thus armed and accoutred, he presented the appearance of a
miniature Ranger.
Twidget had _his_ peculiarities. He was a tight, wiry little animal,
that could live upon mezquite beans or maguey leaves for an indefinite
time; and his abstemiousness was often put to the test. Afterwards,
upon an occasion during the battles in the valley of Mexico, Jack and
Twidget had somehow got separated, at which time the mustang had been
shut up for four days in the cellar of a ruined convent with no other
food than stones and mortar! How Twidget came by his name is not clear.
Perhaps it was some waif of the rider's own fancy.
As I appeared at the entrance of my tent, Jack had just finished
strapping on his Mexican saddle; and seeing me, up he ran to assist in
serving my breakfast. This was hastily despatched, and our party took
the route in silence through the sleeping camp. Shortly after, we were
joined by the major, mounted on a tall, raw-boned horse; while a darkie,
whom the major addressed as "Doc", rode a snug, stout cob, and carried a
large basket. This last contained the major's commissariat.
We were soon travelling along the Orizava road, the major and Jack
riding in advance. I could not help smiling at the contrast between
these two equestrians; the former with his great gaunt horse, looming up
in the uncertain light of the morning like some huge centaur; while Jack
and Twidget appeared the two representatives of the kingdom of Lilliput.
On turning an angle of the forest, a horseman appeared at some distance
along the road. The major gradually slackened his pace, until he was
square with the head of the column, and then fell back into the rear.
This manoeuvre was executed in the most natural manner, but I could
plainly see that the mounted Mexican had caused the major no small
degree of alarm.
The horseman proved to be a zambo, in pursuit of cattle that had escaped
from a neighbouring corral. I put some inquiries to him in relation to
the object of our expedition. The zambo pointed to the south, saying in
Spanish that mules were plenty in that direction.
"_Hay muchos, muchissimos_," (There are many), said he, as he indicated
a road which led through a strip of forest on our left.
Following his direction, we struck into the new path, which soon
narrowed into a bridle-road or trail. The men were thrown into single
file, and marched _a l'Indienne_. The road darkened, passing under
thick-leaved trees, that met and twined over our heads.
At times the hanging limbs and joined parasites caused the major to
flatten his huge body upon the horn of the saddle; and once or twice he
was obliged to alight, and walk under the impeding branches of the
thorny acacias.
Our journey continued without noise, silence being interrupted only by
an occasional oath from the major--uttered, however, in a low tone, as
we were now fairly "in the woods". The road at length opened upon a
small prairie or glade, near the borders of which rose a "butte",
covered with chaparral.
Leaving the party in ambuscade below, I ascended the butte, to obtain a
view of the surrounding country. The day had now fairly broken, and the
sun was just rising over the blue waters of the Gulf.
His rays, prinkling over the waves, caused them to dance and sparkle
with a metallic brightness; and it was only after shading my eyes that I
could distinguish the tall masts of ships and the burnished towers of
the city.
To the south and west stretched a wide expanse of champaign country,
glowing in all the brilliance of tropical vegetation. Fields of green,
and forests of darker green; here and there patches of yellow, and belts
of olive-coloured leaves; at intervals a sheet of silver--the reflection
from a placid lake, or the bend of some silent stream--was visible upon
the imposing picture at my feet.
A broad belt of forest, dotted with the lifelike frondage of the palm,
swept up to the foot of the hill. Beyond this lay an open tract of
meadow, or prairie, upon which were browsing thousands of cattle. The
distance was too great to distinguish their species; but the slender
forms of some of them convinced me that the object of our search would
be found in that direction.
The meadow, then, was the point to be reached.
The belt of forest already mentioned must be crossed; and to effect this
I struck into a trail that seemed to lead in the direction of the
meadow.
The trail became lighter as we entered the heavy timber. Some distance
farther on we reached a stream. Here the trail entirely disappeared.
No "signs" could be found on the opposite bank. The underwood was
thick; and vines, with broad green leaves and huge clusters of scarlet
flowers, barred up the path like a wall.
It was strange! The path had evidently led to this point, but where
beyond?
Several men were detached across the stream to find an opening. After a
search of some minutes a short exclamation from Lincoln proclaimed
success; I crossed over, and found the hunter standing near the bank,
holding back a screen of boughs and vine-leaves, beyond which a narrow
but plain track was easily distinguished, leading on into the forest.
The trellis closed like a gate, and it seemed as if art had lent a hand
to the concealment of the track. The footprints of several horses were
plainly visible in the sandy bottom of the road.
The men entered in single file. With some difficulty Major Blossom and
his great horse squeezed themselves through, and we moved along under
the shady and silent woods.
After a march of several miles, fording numerous streams, and working
our way through tangled thickets of nopal and wild maguey, an opening
suddenly appeared through the trees. Emerging from the forest, a
brilliant scene burst upon us. A large clearing, evidently once
cultivated, but now in a state of neglect, stretched out before us.
Broad fields, covered with flowers of every hue--thickets of blooming
rose-trees--belts of the yellow helianthus--and groups of cocoa-trees
and half-wild plantains, formed a picture singular and beautiful.
On one side, and close to the border of the forest, could be seen the
roof of a house, peering above groves of glistening foliage, and thither
we marched.
We entered a lane, with its _guardarayas_ of orange-trees planted in
rows upon each side, and meeting overhead.
The sunlight fell through this leafy screen with a mellowed and
delicious softness, and the perfume of flowers was wafted on the air.
The rich music of birds was around us; and the loveliness of the scene
was heightened by the wild neglect which characterised it.
On approaching the house we halted; and after charging the men to remain
silent, I advanced alone to reconnoitre.