[Illustration]
Off the mouth of Pearl-Cay Lagoon are numerous cays, which, in fact,
give their name to the lagoon. They are celebrated for the number and
variety of turtles found on and around them. I was so much delighted with
our torch-light fishing, that I became eager to witness the sport of
turtle-hunting, which is regarded by the Mosquitos as their noblest art,
and in which they have acquired proverbial expertness. Drummer required
only a little persuasion and a taste of rum, to undertake an expedition
to the cays. As this involved going out in the open sea, he selected four
of the largest pitpans, to each of which he assigned the requisite number
of able-bodied and expert men. The women and remaining men were left to
continue their fishing in the lagoon. My canoe was much too small to
venture off, and accordingly was left in charge of the Poyer boy, who,
armed with my double-barreled gun, felt himself a host. With Antonio, I
was given a place in the largest pitpan, commanded by Harris, Captain
Drummer’s “quarter-master,” who was much the finest specimen of physical
beauty that I had seen among the Sambos.
I was quite concerned on finding how little provisions were taken in the
boats, since bad weather often keeps the fishermen out for two or three
weeks. But Drummer insisted that we should find plenty to eat, and we
embarked. We caught the land-breeze as soon as we got from under the
lee of the shore, and drove rapidly on our course. Although the sea was
comparatively smooth, yet the boats all carried such an amount of sail as
to keep me in a state of constant nervousness. One would scarcely believe
that the Mosquito men venture out in their pitpans, in the roughest
weather with impunity, riding the waves like sea-gulls. If upset, they
right their boats in a moment, and with their broad paddle-blades clear
them of water in an incredibly short space of time.
We went, literally, with the wind; and in four hours after leaving the
shore, were among the cays. These are very numerous, surrounded by
reefs, through which wind intricate channels, all well known to the
fishers. Some of the cays are mere heaps of sand, and half-disintegrated
coral-rock, others are larger, and a few have bushes, and an occasional
palm-tree upon them, much resembling “El Roncador.” It was on one of the
latter, where there were the ruins of a rude hut, and a place scooped
in the sand, containing brackish water, that we landed, and made our
encampment. No sooner was this done than Harris started out with his boat
after turtle, leaving the rest to repair the hut, and arrange matters for
the night. Of course I accompanied Harris.
The apparatus for striking the turtle is exceedingly simple,
corresponding exactly with the _waisko-dusa_, which I have described,
except that instead of being barbed, the point is an ordinary triangular
file, ground exceedingly sharp. This, it has been found, is the only
thing which will pierce the thick armor of the turtle; and, moreover, it
makes so small a hole, that it seldom kills the green turtle, and very
slightly injures the scales of the hawk-bill variety, which furnishes the
shell of commerce.
Harris stood in the bow of the pitpan, keeping a sharp look out, holding
his spear in his right hand, with his left hand behind him, where it
answered the purpose of a telegraph to the two men who paddled. They kept
their eyes fixed on the signal, and regulated their strokes, and the
course and speed of the boat, accordingly. Not a word was said, as it is
supposed that the turtle is sharp of hearing. In this manner we paddled
among the cays for half an hour, when, on a slight motion of Harris’
hand, the men altered their course a little, and worked their paddles so
slowly and quietly as scarcely to cause a ripple. I peered ahead, but saw
only what I supposed was a rock, projecting above the water. It was,
nevertheless, a turtle, floating lazily on the surface, as turtles are
wont to do. Notwithstanding the caution of our approach, he either heard
us, or caught sight of the boat, and sank while we were yet fifty yards
distant. There was a quick motion of Harris’ manual telegraph, and the
men began to paddle with the utmost rapidity, striking their paddles deep
in the water. In an instant the boat had darted over the spot where the
turtle had disappeared, and I caught a hurried glimpse of him, making his
way with a speed which quite upset my notions of the ability of turtles
in that line, predicated upon their unwieldiness on land. He literally
seemed to _slide_ through the water.
And now commenced a novel and exciting chase. Harris had his eyes on the
turtle, and the men theirs on Harris’ telegraphic hand. Now we darted
this way, then that; slow one moment, rapid the next, and anon stock
still. The water was not so deep as to permit our scaly friend to get
entirely out of reach of Harris’ practiced eye, although to me the bottom
appeared to be a hopeless maze. As the turtle must rise to the surface
sooner or later to breathe, the object of the pursuer is to keep near
enough to transfix him when he appears. Finally, after half an hour of
dodging about, the boat was stopped with a jerk, and down darted the
spear. As the whole of the shaft did not go under, I saw it had not
failed of its object. A moment more, and Harris had hold of the line.
After a few struggles and spasmodic attempts to get away, his spirit
gave in, and the tired turtle tamely allowed himself to be conducted to
the shore. A few sharp strokes disengaged the file, and he was turned
over on his back on the sand, the very picture of utter helplessness,
to await our return. I have a fancy that the expression of a turtle’s
head, and half-closed eyes, under such circumstances, is the superlative
of saintly resignation; to which a few depreciatory movements of his
flippers come in as a sanctimonious accessory, like the upraised palms of
a well-fed parson.
[Illustration: STRIKING TURTLE.]
This “specimen,” as the naturalists would say, proved to be of the
smaller, or hawk-bill variety, the flesh of which is inferior to that of
the green turtle, although hawk-bills are most valuable on account of
their shells. So we paddled off again, keeping close to the cays and
reefs, where the water is shallow. It was nearly dark before Harris got a
chance at another turtle, which he struck on the bottom, at least eight
feet below the surface. This was of the green variety; he was lifted in
the boat, and his head unceremoniously chopped off, lest he should take a
spiteful nip at the hams of the paddlers.
We wound our way back to the rendezvous, picking up our hawk-bill, who
was that night unmercifully put through the cruel process, which I have
already had occasion to describe, for separating the scales from the
shell, after which he was permitted to take himself off. I may here
mention, that besides the two varieties of turtle which I have named,
there is another and larger kind, called the loggerhead turtle (_Testudo
Caretta_), which resembles the green turtle, but is distinguished by the
superior size of the head, greater breadth of shell, and by its deeper
and more variegated colors. It grows to be of great size, sometimes
reaching one thousand or twelve hundred pounds; but its flesh is rank and
coarse, and the laminæ of its shell too thin for use. It, nevertheless,
supplies a good oil, proper for a variety of purposes.
That evening, we had turtle steaks, and turtle eggs, roasted turtle
flippers, and _callipash_ and _callipee_ (the two latter in the form of
soup),—in fact, turtle in every form known to the Mosquito men, who well
deserve the name of turtle-men. The turtle conceals its eggs in the sand,
but the natives are ready to detect indications of a deposit, which they
verify by thrusting in the sand the iron ramrod of a musket, an operation
which they call “feeling for eggs.”
About midnight, it came on to rain heavily, and continued all the next
day, so that nothing could be done. The time was “put in” _talking
turtle_, and Harris got so warmed up as to promise to show me what the
Mosquito men regard as the _ne plus ultra_ of skill in turtle craft,
namely, “jumping turtle.” He did not explain to me what this meant, but
gave me a significant wag of the head, which is a Mosquito synonym for
_nous verrons_.
The third day proved propitious, and Harris was successful in obtaining
several fine turtles. About noon he laid aside his spear, and took his
position, entirely naked, keeping up, nevertheless, his usual look-out.
We were not long in getting on the track of a turtle. After a world of
maneuvering, apparently with the object of driving him into shallow
water, Harris made a sudden dive overboard. The water boiled and bubbled
for a few moments, when he reappeared, holding a fine hawk-bill in his
outstretched hands. And that feat proved to be what is called “jumping
a turtle.” It often happens that bungling fishermen get badly bitten in
these attempts, which are not without their dangers from the sharp coral
rocks and spiny sea-eggs.
During the afternoon of the fourth day, we returned to the lagoon, taking
with us eight green turtles, and about ninety pounds of fine shell. We
found that most of the party which we had left had gone back to the
village, whither Drummer and his “quarter-master” were urgent I should
return with them. But Wasswatla had no further attractions for me, and I
was firm in my purpose of proceeding straightway up the coast.
With many last turns at the grog, I parted—not without regret—with
Drummer and Harris, giving them each a gaudy silk handkerchief, in
acknowledgment of two fine turtles which they insisted on my accepting.
Harris also gave me his turtle-spear, and was much exalted when I told
him that I should have it engraved with his name, and hung up in my
_watla_ (house) at home.
Pearl-Cay Lagoon is upward of forty miles long, by, perhaps, ten miles
wide at its broadest part. There are three or four settlements upon it,
the principal of which are called Kirka, and English Bank. I did not
visit any of these, but took my course direct for the upper end of the
lagoon, where, as the chain of salt lakes is here interrupted for a
considerable distance, there is another _haulover_ from the lagoon to
the sea. I saw several collections of huts on the western shore, and on
a small island, where we stopped during the midday heats, I gathered a
few stalks of the _jiquilite_ (_Indigofera disperma_), or indigenous
indigo-plant, which may be ranked as one of the prospective sources of
wealth on the coast.
We arrived at the _haulover_ in the midst of a drenching thunder-storm,
which lasted into the night. It was impossible to light a fire, and so
we drew up the canoe on the beach, and, piling our traps in the centre,
I perched myself on the top, where, with the sail thrown over my head,
I enacted the part of a tent-pole for the live-long night! My Indian
companions stripped themselves naked, rubbed their bodies with palm
oil, and took the pelting with all the nonchalance of ducks. For want
of any thing better to do, I ate plantains and dried fish, and, after
the rain subsided, watched the brilliant fire-flies, of which hundreds
moved about lazily under the lee of the bushes. The atmosphere, after the
storm had subsided, was murky and sultry, making respiration difficult,
and inducing a sense of extreme lassitude and fatigue. Every thing was
damp and sticky, and so saturated with water, that it was impossible
for me to lie down. I applied to my Jamaica for comfort, but, in spite
of it, relapsed into a fit of _glums_, or “blue-devils.” To add to my
discomfort, innumerable sand-flies came out, and, soon after, a cloud
of mosquitos, while a forest-full of some kind of tree-toad struck up a
doleful piping, which proved too much for even my tried equanimity. I got
up, and strode back and forth on the narrow sand-beach, in a vehement
and intemperate manner, wishing myself in New York, any where, even in
Jamaica! The remembrance of my first night on the shores of the lagoon
only served to make me feel the more wretched, and I longed to have “some
gentleman do me the favor to thread on the tail of me coat!”
Toward daylight, however, my companions had contrived to make up a sickly
fire, in the smoke of which I sought refuge from the mosquitoes and
sand-flies, and became soothed and sooty at the same time. Day came at
last, but the sun was obscured, and things were but slight improvement
on the night. I found that we were on a narrow strip of sand, scarcely
two hundred yards wide, covered with scrubby bushes, interspersed with a
few twisted trees, looking like weather-beaten skeletons, beyond which
was the sea, dark and threatening, under a gray, filmy sky. Antonio
predicted a storm, what he called a _temporal_, during which it often
rains steadily for a week. Under the circumstances, it became a pregnant
question what to do: whether to return down the lagoon to some more
eligible spot for an encampment, or to push out boldly on the ocean, and
make an effort to gain the mouth of a large river, some miles up the
coast, called Rio Grande or Great River.
I resolved upon the latter course, and we dragged the canoe across the
_haulover_. Although the surf was not high, we had great difficulty in
launching our boat, which was effected by my companions, who, stationed
one on each side, seized a favorable moment, as the waves fell, to drag
it beyond the line of breakers. While one kept it stationary with his
paddle, the other, watching his opportunity, carried off the articles one
by one, and finally, stripping myself, I mounted on Antonio’s shoulders,
and was deposited like a sack in the boat. We paddled out until we got a
good offing, then put up our sail, and laid our course north-north-west.
The coast was dim and indistinct, but I had great faith in the Poyer
boy, whose judgment had thus far never failed. About four o’clock in
the afternoon, we came in sight of a knoll or high bank, which, covered
with large trees, rises on the north side of the mouth of Great River,
constituting an excellent landmark. I was in no wise sorry to find
ourselves nearing it rapidly, for the wind began to freshen, and I feared
lest it might raise such a surf on the bar of the river as to prevent us
from entering. In fact, the waves had begun to break at the shallower
places on the bar, while elsewhere the north-east wind drove over the
water in heavy swells. The sail was hastily gathered in, and my Indians,
seizing their paddles, watched the seventh, or crowning wave, and, by
vigorous exertion, cheering each other with shouts, kept the canoe at
its crest, and thus we were swept majestically over the bar, into the
comparatively quiet water beyond it. Half an hour afterward, the great
waves broke on the very spot where we had crossed, in clouds of spray,
and with the noise of thunder!
The mouth of Great River is broad, but entirely exposed to the
north-east; and, although it is a large stream, the water on its bar is
not more than five or six feet deep, shutting out all large vessels,
which otherwise might go up a long way into the country. There are
several islands near the mouth. On the innermost one, which toward the
sea is bluff and high, we made our encampment. It appeared to me as
favorable a spot as we could find, whereon to await the _temporal_ which
Antonio had predicted, and the approach of which became apparent to even
the most unpracticed observer. Fortunately, with Harris’ turtles, we
felt easy on the score of food. So we dragged the canoe high up on the
bank, and while I kindled a fire, my companions busied themselves in
constructing a shelter over the boat. Stout forked stakes were planted at
each end of the canoe, to support a ridge-pole, with other shorter ones
supporting the outer poles. To these, canes were lashed transversely, and
over all was woven a thatch of _cahoon_, or palmetto-leaves. Outside,
and on a line with the eaves, a little trench was dug, to carry off the
water, and preserve the interior from being flooded by what might run
down the slope of the ground. So rapidly was all this done, that before
it was quite dark the hut was so far advanced as to enable us to defy the
rain, which soon began to fall in torrents. The strong sea wind drove off
the mosquitos to the bush on the mainland, so that I slept comfortably
and well, in spite of the thunder of the sea and the roaring of the wind.
For eight days it rained almost uninterruptedly. Sometimes, between nine
and eleven o’clock, and for perhaps an hour near sunset, there would be
a pause, and a lull in the wind, and a general lighting up of the leaden
sky, as if the sun were about to break through. But the clouds would
gather again darker than ever, and the rain set in with a steady pouring
unknown in northern latitudes. For eight mortal days we had no ray of
sun, or moon, or star! Every iron thing became thickly coated with rust;
our plantains began to spot, and our dried fish to grow soft and mouldy,
requiring to be hung over the small fire which we contrived to keep
alive, in one corner of our extemporaneous hut.
[Illustration: TEMPORAL CAMP.]
After the third day, the water in the river began to rise, and during
the night rose more than eight feet. On the fifth day the current was
full of large trees, their leaves still green, which seemed to be bound
together with vines. In the afternoon down came the entire thatched roof
of a native hut, which lodged against our island, bringing us a most
acceptable freight, in the shape of a plump two-months old pig. His
fellow-voyager—strange companionship!—was a tame parrot, with clipped
wings, who looked melancholy enough when rescued, but who, after getting
dry in our hut, and soothing his appetite on my plantains, first became
mirthful, then boisterous, and finally mischievous. He was immediately
installed as one of the party, and made more noise in the world than
all the rest. To me he proved an unfailing source of amusement. He was
respectful toward Antonio, but vicious toward the Poyer boy, and never
happy except when cautiously stealing to get a bite at his toes. When
successful in this he became wild with delight, and as noisy and vehement
as a lucky Frenchman. It was one of his prime delights to gnaw off the
corks of my bottles; and he was possessed of a most insane desire to
get inside of my demijohn, mistaking it, perhaps, for a wicker cage,
from which he imagined himself wrongfully excluded. Antonio called him
“El Moro,” the Moor, for what reason I did not understand, and the name
suiting me as well as any other, I baptized him with water, “El Moro,”
and got an ugly pinch on the wrist for my blasphemy.
Our young porker escaped drowning only to fall into the hands of the
Philistines; we had nothing to feed him; he might get away; he was,
moreover, invitingly fat; so we incontinently cut his throat, and ate him
up!
During our imprisonment, my companions were not idle. Upon the island
were many _mohoe_-trees, the bark of which is tough, and of a fine,
soft, white fibre. Of this they collected considerable quantities, which
the Poyer boy braided into a sort of cap, designed as the foundation
of the elegant feather head-dress which he afterward gave me; while
Antonio, more utilitarian, wove a small net, not unlike that which we use
to catch crabs. He at once put it into requisition to catch craw-fish,
which abounded among the rocks to the seaward of the island. But before
entering upon the subject of craw-fish, I may say that the _mohoe_ bark,
from its fine quality, and the abundance in which it may be procured,
might be made exceedingly useful for the manufacture of paper—an article
now becoming scarce and dear.
The _cray_ or _craw-fish_ resemble the lobster, but are smaller in size,
and want the two great claws. Their flesh has more flavor than that of
either the crab or lobster, and we found them an acceptable addition to
our commissariat. There were many wood-pigeons and parrots on the island,
but my gun had got in such a state, from the damp, that I did not attempt
to use it.
Our protracted stay made a large draft on our yucas and plantains, and it
became important to us to look out for fruit and vegetables. The current
in the river was too strong, and too much obstructed with floating
timber, to permit us to use our boat. The water, even at the broadest
part of the stream, had risen upward of fifteen feet, equivalent to a
rise of twenty or twenty-five feet in the interior! The banks were
overflowed; the low islands outside of us completely submerged and our
own space much circumscribed. A few plantain-trees, which we had observed
on the first evening, had been broken down or swept away, and we were
fain to put ourselves on a short allowance of vegetables. One morning,
during a pause in the rain, I ventured out; and, after a little search,
found a tree, resembling a pear-tree, and bearing a large quantity of a
small fruit, of the size and shape of a crab-apple, and exactly like it
in smell. I cried out delightedly to Antonio, holding up a handful of
the supposed apples. To my surprise, he shouted, “Throw them down! throw
them down!” explaining that they were the fruit of the _mangeneel_ or
_manzanilla_, and rank poison. He hurried me away from the tree, assuring
me that even the dew or rain-drops which fell from its leaves were
poisonous, and that its influence, like that of the fabled _upas_, is so
powerful as to swell the faces and limbs of those who may be ignorant or
indiscreet enough to sleep beneath its shade! I found out subsequently,
that it is with the acrid milky juice of this tree that the Indians
poison their arrows. I ever afterward gave it a wide berth. In shape and
smell it is so much like the crab-apple that I can readily understand
how it might prove dangerous to strangers. Under the tropics, it is safe
to let wild fruits alone. Antonio, more successful than myself, found
a large quantity of _guavas_, which the natives eat with great relish,
but which to me have a disagreeable aromatic, or rather, musky taste.
So I stuck to plantains, and left my companions and “El Moro” to enjoy a
monopoly of _guavas_.
Finally, the windows of heaven were closed, the rain ceased, and the sun
came out with a bright, well-washed face. It was none too soon, for every
article which I possessed, clothing, books, food, all had begun to spot
and mould from the damp. I had myself a sympathetic feeling, and dreamed
at night that I was covered with a green mildew; dreams so vivid that I
once got up and went out naked in the rain, to wash it off!
After the leaves had ceased to drip, we stretched lines between the
trees, and hung out our scanty wardrobe to dry. I rubbed and brushed
at my court suit of black, but in vain. What with salt water at “El
Roncador,” and mould here, it had acquired a permanent rusty and leprous
look, which half inclined me to follow the Poyer boy’s suggestion, and
soak it in palm oil! Few and simple as were our equipments, it took
full two days to redeem them from the effects of the damp. My gun more
resembled some of those quaint old fire-locks taken from wrecks, and
exhibited in museums, than any thing useful to the present generation. In
view of all things, I was fain to ejaculate, Heaven save me from another
“_temporal_” on the Mosquito Shore!