[Illustration]
From our misfortunes, I named our encampment, on Wava Lagoon, “Fever
Camp,” although so far from contracting the fever there, I am sure it
was its open and elevated position which contributed to my recovery. The
fever was rather due to over-exertion, and exposure at night; for the
night-damps, on all low coasts under the tropics, are unquestionably
deadly, and the traveler cannot be too careful in avoiding them. Early in
the afternoon of the day of our departure from “Fever Camp,” we entered
a large stream, flowing into the lagoon from the north-west, upon the
banks of which, judging from the direction of the smoke we had seen, the
Indian villages were situated. We were not mistaken. Before night we came
to a village larger than that on the Rio Grande, but in other respects
much the same, except that it stood upon the edge of an extensive
savannah, instead of on the skirt of an impenetrable forest. Around it
were extensive plantations of cassava, and other fruits and vegetables,
growing in the greatest luxuriance, and indicating that the soil of the
inland savannahs does not share the aridity of those nearer the coast.
This was further evinced by the scarcity of pines, which were only to be
seen on the ridges or gentle elevations with which the surface of the
savannah was diversified.
Our appearance here created the same excitement which it had occasioned
at the other places we had visited, and our reception was much the same
with that which we had experienced on the Rio Grande. Instead, however,
of being met by men with wands, we were welcomed by five old men, one of
whom vacated his own hut for our accommodation. None here could speak
either English or Spanish intelligibly, but the affinity between their
language and that of my Poyer enabled him to make known our wants, and
obtain all useful information. We were treated hospitably, but with the
utmost reserve, and during my whole stay, but a single incident relieved
the monotony of the village. This was a marriage—and a very ceremonious
affair it was.
These Indians, I should explain, are called Towkas, or Toacas, and have,
I presume, all the general characteristics and habits of the Cookras
and Woolwas. These do, in fact, constitute a single family, although
displaying dialectical differences in their language.
[Illustration: TOWKAS INDIANS.]
Among all these Indians, polygamy is an exception, while among the Sambos
it is the rule. The instances are few in which a man has more than one
wife, and in these cases the eldest is not only the head of the family,
but exercises a strict supervision over the others. The betrothals are
made at a very early age, by the parents, and the affianced children
are marked in a corresponding manner, so that one acquainted with the
practice can always point out the various mates. These marks consist
of little bands of colored cotton, worn either on the arm, above the
elbow, or on the leg, below the knee, which are varied in color and
number, so that no two combinations in the village shall be the same.
The combinations are made by the old men, who take care that there
shall be no confusion. The bands are replaced from time to time, as
they become worn and faded. Both boys and girls also wear a necklace
of variously-colored shells or beads, to which one is added yearly.
When the necklace of the boy counts ten beads or shells, he is called
_muhasal_, a word signifying three things, _viz._, ten, all the fingers,
and _half-a-man_. When they number twenty, he is called _’all_, a word
which also signifies three things, _viz._, twenty, both fingers and toes,
and _a man_. And he is then effectively regarded as a man. Should his
affianced, by that time, have reached the age of fifteen, the marriage
ceremony takes place without delay.
As I have said, a sleek young Towka was called upon to add the final bead
to his string, and take upon himself the obligations of manhood, during
my stay at the village. The event had been anticipated by the preparation
of a canoe full of palm-wine, mixed with crushed plantains, and a little
honey, which had been fermenting, to the utter disgust of my nostrils,
from the date of my arrival. The day was observed as a general holiday.
Early in the morning all the men of the village assembled, and with their
knives carefully removed every blade of grass which had grown up inside
of a circle, perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, situated in the very
centre of the village, and indicated by a succession of stones sunk in
the ground. The earth was then trampled smooth and hard, after which they
proceeded to erect a little hut in the very centre of the circular area,
above a large flat stone which was permanently planted there. This hut
was made conical, and perfectly close, except an opening at the top, and
another at one side, toward the east, which was temporarily closed with a
mat, woven of palm-bark. I looked in without hinderance, and saw, piled
up on the stone, a quantity of the dry twigs of the copal-tree, covered
with the gum of the same. The canoe full of liquor was dragged up to the
edge of the circle, and literally covered with small white calabashes, of
the size of an ordinary coffee-cup.
At noon, precisely, all the people of the village hurried, without order,
to the hut of the bridegroom’s father. I joined in the crowd. We found
the “happy swain” arrayed in his best, sitting demurely upon a bundle of
articles, closely wrapped in a mat. The old men, to whom I have referred,
formed in a line in front of him, and the eldest made him a short
address. When he had finished, the next followed, until each had had his
say. The youth then got up quietly, shouldered his bundle, and, preceded
by the old men, and followed by his father, marched off to the hut of
the prospective bride. He put down his load before the closed door, and
seated himself upon it in silence. The father then rapped at the door,
which was partly opened by an old woman, who asked him what he wanted, to
which he made some reply which did not appear to be satisfactory, when
the door was shut in his face, and he took his seat beside his son.
One of the old men then rapped, with precisely the same result, then
the next, and so on. But the old women were obdurate. The bridegroom’s
father tried it again, but the she-dragons would not open the door. The
old men then seemed to hold a council, at the end of which a couple
of drums (made, as I have already explained, by stretching a raw skin
over a section of a hollow tree), and some rude flutes were sent for.
The latter were made of pieces of bamboo, and were shaped somewhat like
flageolets, each having a mouth-piece, and four stops. The sound was dull
and monotonous, although not wholly unmusical.
Certain musicians now appeared, and at once commenced playing on these
instruments, breaking out, at long intervals, in a kind of supplicatory
chant. After an hour or more of this soothing and rather sleepy kind
of music, the inexorable door opened a little, and one of the female
inmates glanced out with much affected timidity. Hereupon the musicians
redoubled their efforts, and the bridegroom hastened to unroll his
bundle. It contained a variety of articles supposed to be acceptable to
the parents of the girl. There was, among other things, a _machete_, no
inconsiderable present, when it is understood that the cost of one is
generally a large _dory_, which it requires months of toil to fashion
from the rough trunk of the gigantic ceiba. A string of gay glass beads
was also produced from the bundle. All these articles were handed in to
the women one by one, by the father of the groom. With every present
the door opened wider and wider, until the mat was presented, when
it was turned back to its utmost, revealing the bride arrayed in her
“prettiest,” seated on a crickery, at the remotest corner of the hut.
The dragons affected to be absorbed in examining the presents, when
the bridegroom, watching his opportunity, dashed into the hut, to the
apparent utter horror and dismay of the women; and, grasping the girl by
the waist, shouldered her like a sack, and started off at a trot for the
mystic circle, in the centre of the village. The women pursued, as if
to overtake him and rescue the girl, uttering cries for help, while all
the crowd huddled after. But the youth was too fast for them; he reached
the ring, and lifting the vail of the hut, disappeared within it. The
women could not pass the circle, and all stopped short at its edge, and
set up a chorus of despairing shrieks, while the men all gathered within
the charmed ring, where they squatted themselves, row on row, facing
outward. The old men alone remained standing, and a bit of lighted pine
having meanwhile been brought, one of them approached the hut, lifted the
mat, and, handing in the fire, made a brief speech to the inmates. A few
seconds after an aromatic smoke curled up from the opening in the top of
the little hut, from which I infer that the copal had been set on fire.
What else happened, I am sure I do not know!
When they saw the smoke, the old women grew silent and expectant; but,
by-and-by, when it subsided, they became suddenly gay, and “went in
strong” for the festivities, which, up to this time, I must confess,
I had thought rather slow. But here I may explain, that although the
bridegroom has no choice in the selection of his wife, yet if he have
reason for doing so, he may, while the copal is burning, take her in his
arms, and cast her outside of the circle, in the open day, before the
entire people, and thus rid himself of her forever. But in this case,
the matter is carefully investigated by the old men, and woe betide the
wretch who, by this public act, has impeached a girl wrongfully! Woe
equally betide the girl who is proved to have been “put away” for good
reasons. If, however, the copal burns out quietly, the groom is supposed
to be satisfied, and the marriage is complete.
The copal, in this instance, burned out in the most satisfactory manner,
and then the drums and flutes struck up a most energetic air, the music
of which consisted of about eight notes, repeated with different degrees
of rapidity, by way of giving variety to the melody. The men all kept
their places, while I was installed in a seat of honor beside the old
men. The women, who, as I have said, could not come within the circle,
now commenced filling the calabashes from the canoe, and passing them to
the squatting men, commencing with the ancients and the “distinguished
guests”—for Antonio and my Poyer were included in our party. There
was nothing said, but the women displayed the greatest activity in
filling the emptied calabashes. I soon discovered that every body was
deliberately and in cold blood getting up of what Captain Drummer called
the “big drunk!” That was part of the performance of the day, and the
Indians went at it in the most orderly and expeditious manner. They
wasted no time in coyish preliminaries—a practice which might be followed
in more civilized countries, to the great economy, not only of time, but
of the vinous. It was not from the love of the drink that the Towkas
imbibed, I can well believe, for their _chicha_ was bad to look at, and
worse to taste.
With the fourth round of the calabashes, an occasional shout betrayed
the effects of the _chicha_ upon some of the weaker heads. These shouts
became more and more frequent, and were sometimes uttered with a savage
emphasis, which was rather startling. The musicians, too, became more
energetic, and as the sun declined, the excitement rose, until, unable
to keep quiet any longer, all hands got up, and joined in a slow,
swinging step around the circle, beating with their knuckles on the
empty calabashes, and joining at intervals in a kind of refrain, at the
end of which every man struck the bottom of his calabash against that
of his neighbor. Then, as they came round by the canoe, each one dipped
his calabash full of the contents. The liquid thus taken up was drunk at
a single draught, and then the dance went on, growing more rapid with
every dip of the calabash. It got to the stage of a trot, and then a fast
pace, and finally into something little short of a gallop, but still in
perfect time. The rattling of the calabashes had now grown so rapid, as
almost to be continuous, and the motion so involved and quick, that, as
I watched it, I felt that kind of giddiness which one often experiences
in watching the gliding of a swift current of water. This movement could
not be kept up long, even with the aid of _chicha_, and whenever a dancer
became exhausted, he would wheel out of line, and throw himself flat on
his face on the ground. Finally, every one gave in, except two young
fellows, who seemed determined to do, in their way, what other fast
young men, in other countries, sometimes undertake to accomplish, viz.:
drink each other down, or “under the table.” They danced and drunk, and
were applauded by the women, but were so closely matched that it was
impossible to tell which had the best chance of keeping it up longest.
In fact, each seemed to despair of the other, and, as if by a common
impulse, both threw aside their calabashes, and resolved the contest
from a trial of endurance into one of strength, leaping at each other’s
throats, and fastening their teeth like tigers in each other’s flesh.
There was instantly a great uproar, and those of the men who had the
ability to stand, clustered around the combatants in a confused mass,
shouting at the stretch of their lungs, and evidently, as I thought,
regarding it as a “free fight.” But there was little damage done, for the
old men, though emphatically “tight,” had discretion enough to send the
women for thongs, with which the pugnacious youths were incontinently
bound hand and foot, and dragged close to the hut in the centre, and
there left to cool themselves off as they were best able, no one taking
the slightest notice of them. “Verily,” I ejaculated to myself, “wisdom
knoweth no country.”
[Illustration: THE END OF IT!]
The dance which I have described was resumed from time to time, until
it became quite dark, when the women brought a large number of pine
splinters, of which the men each took one. These were lighted, and then
the dancers paced up to the little hut, and each tore off one of the
branches of which it was built, finally disclosing the newly-married
couple sitting demurely side by side. As soon as the hut was demolished,
the groom quietly took his bride on his back—literally “shouldering the
responsibility!”—and marched off to the hut which had previously been
built for his accommodation, escorted by the procession of men with
torches. This was the final ceremony of the night, although some of the
more dissipated youths returned to the canoe, and kept up a drumming, and
piping, and dancing, until morning. Next day every body brought presents
of some kind to the newly-married pair, so as to give them a fair start
in the world, and enable them to commence life on equal terms with the
best in the village.
It would be difficult to find on earth any thing more beautiful than
the savannah which spread out, almost as far as the eye could reach,
behind the Towkas village. Along the river’s bank rose a tangled wall
of verdure; giant ceibas, feathery palms, and the snake-like trunks of
the _mata-palo_, all bound together, and draped over with cable-like
_lianes_, (the tie-tie of the English,) and the tenacious tendrils
of myriads of creeping and flowering plants. Unlike the wearying,
monotonous prairies of the West, the savannah was relieved by clumps of
acacias—among them the delicate-leaved gum-arabic—palmettos, and dark
groups of pines, arranged with such harmonious disorder, and admirable
picturesque effect, that I could scarcely believe the hand of art had not
lent its aid to heighten the efforts of nature in her happiest mood.
Finding retreats in the dense coverts of the jungles on the river’s
bank, or among the clustering groups of bushes and trees, the antelope
and deer, the Indian rabbit and _gibeonite_, wandered securely over the
savannah, nipping the young grass, or chasing each other in mimic alarm.
Here, too, might be observed the crested curassow, with his stately step,
the plumptitudinous qualm, and the crazy chachalca, (_coquericot_,)
besides innumerable quails—all fitting food for omnivorous man, but so
seldom disturbed as not to recognize him as their most dangerous enemy.
Then night and morning the air was filled with deafening parrots, noisy
macaws, and quick-darting, chattering paroquets.
I rose early every day, and with my gun in my hand, strayed far over the
savannah, inhaling the freshness of the morning air, and shooting such
game as looked fat, tender, and otherwise acceptable to my now fastidious
appetite. The curassow, (called _cossu_ by the Mosquitos,) is one of the
finest birds in the world. It is about the size of the turkey, but has
stronger and longer legs. The plumage is dark brown or black, ash-colored
about the neck, and of a reddish brown on the breast. On its head it
has a crest of white feathers tipped with black, which it raises and
depresses at pleasure. The flesh is whiter than that of a turkey, but
rather dry, requiring a different mode of cooking than is practiced in
the woods, to bring out its qualities in perfection. It is easily tamed,
as are also the _qualm_ and _chachalaca_. The latter, when old, is tough,
but when young, its flesh cannot be surpassed for delicacy and flavor.
The animal called the Indian rabbit is very numerous, and is a variety
of what, in South America, is called the _agouti_. It is about the size
of a rabbit: body plump; snout long, and rather sharp; nose divided at
the tip, and upper jaw longer than the lower; hind legs longer than
the anterior ones, and furnished with but three toes; tail short, and
scarcely visible, while its body is covered with a hard, shining,
reddish-brown hair, freckled with dark spots. It lives upon vegetables,
holds its food in eating, like a squirrel, and has a vicious propensity
for biting and gnawing whatever it comes near. For this reason it is
a nuisance in the neighborhood of plantations, and, as it multiplies
rapidly, it is about the only animal which is hunted systematically by
the Indians. Its flesh is only passable.
The _gibeonite_ (_cavia-paca_), sometimes called _pig-rabbit_, closely
resembles the guinea-pig, but is something larger. The head is round;
the muzzle short and black; the upper jaw longer than the lower; the lip
divided, like that of a hare; the nostrils large, and the whiskers long;
eyes brown, large, and prominent; ears short and naked; neck thick; body
very plump, larger behind than before, and covered with coarse, short
hair, of a dusky brown color, deepest on the back; the throat, breast,
inside of the limbs, and belly dingy white; and on each side of the body
are five rows of dark spots, placed close to each other. The legs are
short, the feet have five toes, with strong nails, and the tail is a
simple conic projection. Its flesh is peculiarly juicy and rich, and,
baked in the ground, the animal makes a dish for an epicure. I believe I
did not let a day pass without having a baked _gibeonite_.
Among the Indians of the village, the eggs and flesh of the river turtle
were favorite articles of food; and in constantly using them, I thought
they evinced a proper appreciation of what is good. There are two
varieties of these turtles, one called _bocatoro_ (Mosquito _chouswat_),
and the other _hecatee_. The latter is seldom more than eighteen inches
long, but its shell is very deep. We cooked them by simply separating
the lower shell, taking out the entrails, and stuffing the cavity with
cassava, pieces of plantain, manitee fat, and various condiments, then
wrapping it in plantain leaves, as I have described, and turning it
back down, baking it in the ground. It always required a good bed of
coals to cook it properly, but when rightly done, the result was a meal
preëminently savory and palatable. The Indian boys brought, literally,
bushels of the eggs of these turtles from the bars and sand-spits of the
river and lagoon. These are very delicate when entirely fresh.