[Illustration]
At noon, on the second day of our departure from Cape Gracias, we came
to a considerable stream, named Bocay, which enters the river Wanks from
the south-west. It was on the banks of this river, some ten or fifteen
miles above its mouth, that the famed _Sukia_ woman resided. We directed
our boats up the stream, the water of which was clear, and flowed with a
rapid current. We were not long in passing through the belt of savannah
which flanks the Cape River, on both sides, for fifty miles above its
mouth. Beyond this came dense primitive forests of gigantic trees, among
which the mahogany was conspicuous. The banks, too, became high and
firm, occasionally presenting rocky promontories, around which the water
swept in dark eddies. Altogether, it was evident that we had entered the
mountain region of the continent, and were at the foot of one of the
great dependent ranges of the primitive chain of the Cordilleras.
In places, the river was compressed among high hills, with scarped,
rocky faces, where the current was rapid and powerful, and only overcome
by vigorous efforts at the paddles. These were succeeded by beautiful
intervals of level ground, inviting localities for the establishments
of man. We passed two or three sweet and sheltered nooks, in which were
small clearings, and the picturesque huts of the Indians. Excepting an
occasional palm-tree, or isolated cluster of plantains, clinging to the
shore where their germs had been lodged by the water, there was nothing
tropical in the aspect of nature, unless, perhaps, the greater size
of the forest-trees, and the variety of parasitic plants which they
supported.
Our progress against the current was comparatively slow and laborious,
and it was late in the evening when the glittering of fires on the bank,
and the barking of dogs, announced to us the proximity of the Indian
village of Bocay, to which we were bound. We reached it in due time, and
were received quite ceremoniously by the old men of the place, who seemed
to be perfectly aware of our coming. This struck me at the time as due to
the foresight of Mr. H., but I afterward learned that he had given the
Indians no intimation of our proposed visit.
A vacant hut was assigned to us, and we commenced to arrange our hammocks
and prepare our supper. Our meal was scarcely finished, when there was
a sudden movement among the Indians, who clustered like bees around our
door, and a passage for some one approaching was rapidly opened. A moment
afterward, an old woman came forward, and, stopping in the low doorway,
regarded us in silence. In bearing and dress she differed much from the
rest of the people. Around her forehead she wore a broad band of cotton,
in which were braided the most brilliant feathers of birds. This band
confined her hair, which hung down her back, like a vail, nearly to the
ground. From her waist depended a kilt of tiger-skins, and she wore
sandals of the same on her feet. Around each wrist and ankle she had
broad feather bands, like that which encircled her forehead.
Her eyes soon rested upon Antonio, who, on the instant of her approach,
had discontinued his work, and advanced to the door. They exchanged
a glance as if of recognition, and spoke a few hurried and, to us,
unintelligible words, when the old woman turned suddenly, and walked
away. I looked inquiringly at the youthful Indian, whose eyes glowed
again with that mysterious intelligence which I had so often remarked.
He came hastily to my side, and whispered in Spanish, “The Mother of the
Tigers is waiting!” Then, with nervous steps, he moved toward the door. I
beckoned to H., and followed. The Indians opened to the right and left,
and we passed out, scarcely able to keep pace with the rapid steps of
the Indian boy. On he went, as if familiar with the place, past the open
huts, and into the dark forest. I now saw that he followed a light, not
like that of a flame, but of a burning coal, which looked close at one
moment, and distant the next. The path, though narrow, was smooth, and
ascended rapidly. For half an hour we kept on at the same quick pace,
when the trees began to separate, and I could see that we were emerging
from the dark forest into a comparatively open space, in which the
graceful plumes of the palm-trees appeared, traced lightly against the
starry sky. Here the guiding fire seemed to halt, and, coming up, we
found the same old woman who had visited us in the village, and who now
carried a burning brand as a direction to our steps. She made a sign of
silence, and moved on slowly, and with apparent caution. A few minutes’
walk brought us to what, in the dim light, appeared to be a building of
stone, and soon after to another and larger one. I saw that they were
partly ruined, for the stars in the horizon were visible through the
open doorways. Our guide passed these without stopping, and led us to
the threshold of a small cane-built hut, which stood beyond the ruin.
The door was open, and the light from within shone out on the smoothly
beaten ground in front, in a broad unwavering column. We entered; but
for the moment I was almost blinded by a blaze of light proceeding from
torches of pine-wood, planted in each corner. I was startled also by an
angry growl, and the sudden apparition of some wild animal at our feet.
I shrank back with a feeling of alarm, which was not diminished when,
upon recovering my powers of vision, I saw directly in front of us, as
if guardian of the dwelling, a large tiger, its fierce eyes fixed upon
us, and slowly sweeping the ground with its long tail, as if preparing to
spring at our throats.
It, however, stopped the way only for a moment. A single word and gesture
from the old woman drove it into a corner of the hut, where it crouched
down in quiet. I glanced around, but excepting a single rude Indian drum,
placed in the centre of the smooth, earthen floor, and a few blocks of
stone planted along the walls for seats, there were no other articles,
either of use or ornament, in the hut. But at one extremity of the low
apartment, seated upon an outspread tiger-skin, was a woman, whose figure
and manner at once marked her out as the extraordinary _Sukia_ whom we
had come so far to visit. She was young, certainly not over twenty, tall,
and perfectly formed, and wore a tiger-skin in the same manner as the old
woman who had acted as her messenger, but the band around her forehead,
and her armlets and anklets, were of gold.
She rose when we entered, and, with a faint smile of recognition to H.,
spoke a few words of welcome. I had expected to see a bold pretender
to supernatural powers, whose first efforts would be directed to work
upon the imaginations of her visitors, and was surprised to find that
the “Mother of the Tigers” was after all only a shy and timid Indian
girl. Her looks, at first, were troubled, and she glanced into our eyes
inquiringly; but suddenly turning her gaze toward the open door, she
uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise and joy, and in an instant
after she stood by the side of Antonio. They gazed at each other in
silence, then exchanged a rapid signal, and a single word, when she
turned away, and Antonio retired into a corner, where he remained fixed
as a statue, regarding every movement with the closest attention.
[Illustration: “THE MOTHER OF THE TIGERS.”]
No sooner had the _Sukia_ resumed her seat, than she clasped her forehead
in her open palms, and gazed intently upon the ground before her.
Never have I seen the face of a human being which wore a more earnest
expression. For five minutes, perhaps, the silence was unbroken, when
a sudden sound, as of the snapping of the string of a violin, directed
our attention to the rude drum that stood in the centre of the hut. This
sound was followed by a series of crackling noises, like the discharges
of electric sparks. They seemed to occur irregularly at first, but as
I listened, I discovered that they had a harmonious relationship, as if
in accompaniment to some simple melody. The vibrations of the drum were
distinctly visible, and they seemed to give it a circular motion over the
ground, from left to right. The sounds stopped as suddenly as they had
commenced, and the _Sukia_, lifting her head, said solemnly, “The spirits
of your fathers have come to the mountain! I know them not; you must
speak to them.”
I hesitate to recount what I that night witnessed in the rude hut of the
_Sukia_, lest my testimony should expose both my narrative and myself
to ridicule, and unjust imputations. Were it my purpose to elaborate an
impressive story, it would be easy to call in the aid of an imposing
machinery, and invest the communications which were that night made to
us with a portentous significance. But this would be as foreign to truth
as repugnant to my own feelings; for whatever tone of lightness may run
through this account of my adventures in the wilderness, those who know
me will bear witness to my respect for those things which are in their
nature sacred, or connected with the more mysterious elements of our
existence. I can only say, that except the somewhat melo-dramatic manner
in which we had been conducted up the mountain by the messenger of the
_Sukia_, and the incident of the tamed tiger, nothing occurred during
our visit which appeared to have been designed for effect, or which was
visibly out of the ordinary course of things. It is true, I was somewhat
puzzled, I will not say impressed, with the perfect understanding, or
relationship, which seemed to exist between the _Sukia_ and Antonio.
This relationship, however, was fully explained in the sequel. Among the
ruling and the priestly classes of the semi-civilized nations of America,
there has always existed a mysterious bond, or secret organization, which
all the disasters to which they have been subjected, have not destroyed.
It is to its present existence that we may attribute those simultaneous
movements of the aborigines of Mexico, Central America, and Peru, which
have, more than once, threatened the complete subversion of the Spanish
power.
[Illustration: THE SANCTUARY OF THE SUKIA.]
It was past midnight when, with a new and deeper insight into the
mysteries of our present and future existence, and a fuller and loftier
appreciation of the great realities which are to follow upon the advent
of every soul into the universe, and of which earth is scarcely the
initiation, that H. and myself left the sanctuary of the _Sukia_. The
moon had risen, and now silvered every object with its steady light,
revealing to us that we stood upon a narrow terrace of the mountain,
facing the east, and commanding a vast panorama of forest and savannah,
bounded only by the distant sea. Immediately in front of the hut from
which we had emerged, stood one of the ruined structures to which I have
already alluded. By the clear light of the moon I could perceive that
it was built of large stones, laid with the greatest regularity, and
sculptured all over with strange figures, having a close resemblance,
if not an absolute identity, with those which have become familiarized
to us by the pencil of Catherwood. It appeared originally to have been
of two stories, but the upper walls had fallen, and the ground was
encumbered with the rubbish, over which vines were trailing, as if to
vail the crumbling ruins from the gaze of men. As we moved away, and at
a considerable distance from the ruins, we observed a large erect stone,
rudely sculptured in the outline of a human figure. Its face was turned
to the East, as if to catch the first rays of the morning, and the light
of the moon fell full upon it. To my surprise, its features were the
exact counterparts of those which appeared on Antonio’s talisman. There
was no mistaking the rigid yet not ungentle expression of the “Lord who
never lies.”
Silently we followed the guide, who had conducted us up the mountain,
into the narrow path which led to the village. She indicated to us the
direction we were to pursue with her hand, and left us without a word.
I was so absorbed in my own reflections that it was not until we had
reached our temporary quarters that I missed Antonio. He had remained
behind. But when I awoke next morning he had returned, and was busily
preparing for our departure. “It is well with our brothers of the
mountains!” was his prompt response to my look of inquiry. From that
day forward his absorbing idea seemed to be to return as speedily as
possible to his people. It was long afterward that I discovered the deep
significance of the visit of the youthful chieftain of the Itzaes to the
Indian seeress of the River Bocay. Since then the Spaniard, though fenced
round with bayonets, has often shuddered when he has heard the cry of
the tiger in the stillness of the night, betraying the approach of those
injured men, whose relentless arms, nerved by the recollections of three
centuries of oppression, now threaten the utter extermination of the race
of the conquerors!
Our passage down the Bocay was rapid compared with the ascent, and at
noon we had reached the great river. My course now lay in one direction,
and that of Mr. H. in another, but we were loth to separate, and he
finally agreed to accompany us to our first stopping-place, and, passing
the night with us there, return next day to the Cape. It was scarcely
four o’clock when we reached the designated point, chiefly remarkable
as marking the termination of the savannahs. Beyond here the banks of
the river became elevated, rising in hills and high mountains, densely
covered with a gigantic primeval forest. Our Indian companions speedily
supplied us with an abundance of fish, with which the river seemed to
swarm. And as for vegetables—wherever the banks of the river are low
there is a profusion of bananas and plantains, growing from bulbs, which
have been brought down from the interior, and deposited by the river in
its overflows.
Mr. H. had once ascended the river to its source, in the elevated
mining district of New Segovia, the extreme north-western department
of Nicaragua. The ascent had occupied him twenty days. In many places,
he said, the channel is completely interrupted by falls and impassable
rapids, around which it was necessary to drag the canoes. In other places
the river is compressed between vertical walls of rock, and the water
runs with such force that it required many attempts and the most vigorous
exertions to get the boats through.
He represented that New Segovia has a considerable population of
civilized Indians, whose principal occupation is the washing of gold,
which is found in all of the upper waters. Their mode of life he
described as affording a curious illustration of the influence of the
Catholic priests, who are scattered here and there, and who exercise
almost unbounded influence over the simple natives. The nature of their
relationship, as well as their own manners, were so well illustrated by
an incident which befell him during his visit there, that I shall attempt
to relate it, as nearly as possible in his own words. The reader must
bear in mind that the recital was made in a fragmentary manner, in the
intervals of vigorous puffing at a huge cigar, and that I have taken the
liberty of commencing at the beginning of the story, and not at the end.
A Tale of Wanks River.
“On our nineteenth evening from the Cape,” said H., “after a fatiguing
day of alternate poling and paddling, we reached Pantasma, the extreme
frontier Segovian settlement on the river. As we drew up to the bank,
thankful for the prospect of shelter and rest which the village held
out, we were surprised to hear the music of drums and pipes, and, for a
moment, were under the pleasing impression that the people had, in some
way, got information of our approach, and had taken this mode of giving
us a welcome. However, we soon saw that the musicians were in attendance
on a white man, whose garb had a strange mixture of civilized and savage
fashions. He regarded us curiously for a few moments, and then, giving
the nearest musicians each a vigorous kick, he ran down to the water,
and bestowed upon all of us an equally hearty embrace! Propounding a
dozen inquiries in a breath, he announced himself an Englishman ‘in a
d—l of a fix,’ whose immediate and overshadowing ambition was, that
all hands should go straight to his hut and have something to drink!
Our first impression was decidedly that the man was mad; but we were
undeceived when we got to his house, which we found profusely supplied
with food, and where we were not long in making ourselves thoroughly at
home. Perhaps what we drank had something to do with it, but certainly
we nearly died with laughter in listening to our host’s recital of his
adventures in Central America, and especially of the way in which he had
got to Pantasma, and came to have an escort of musicians.
“His name, he said, was Harry F——. He was the son of a London merchant,
who was well to do in the world. As usual with sons of such papas, he had
gone to school when younger, and entered his father’s establishment when
old enough, where, as the probable successor of the principal, he was,
in his own estimation at least, an important personage, and, altogether,
above work. He nevertheless affected a great liking for the packing
department, for the reason that it connected with a vault, in which he
had established a smoking-room, where he spent the day in devising plans
of amusement for the night, in company with chosen spirits and choice
Havanas.
“When he had reached his majority, his father thought it prudent to
detach him from his associations, by giving him a little experience in
the severities of the world. Having several friends in Belize, he fitted
him out with an adventure, costing some twenty-five hundred dollars, and
consisting of nearly every useless article that could be found, which, by
its glitter and gaud, it was supposed, would attract the easily-dazzled
eyes of the people of the tropics. He duly arrived at Belize, full of
bright anticipations. One of his cherished schemes was to sell his
jewelry in the towns of the interior, at four hundred per cent. profit,
and after paying expenses and losses, to return at once to London, with
five thousand dollars clear profit! So he went to Guatemala, and spread
out his tempting wares. But he met with poor success, and at the end of
two years, having gone on from bad to worse, he at last found himself
in the Indian town where we discovered him—a Catholic Mission, under a
Reverend Padre, who had been educated at Leon, and had passed most of
his simple life, being now over threescore and ten, among the simple
Indians, whom he governed. When Harry first arrived, he proceeded to the
nearest hut, where the usual hospitality of room to hang his hammock was
accorded him, while his valise was installed in a corner—said valise
containing the remnants of the venture from London, now dwindled down
to a very small compass indeed. Of his success in trading, Harry spoke
very frankly: ‘The hardest lot of worthless articles I ever saw; some
that I could not even give away; and those which I sold, I had to trust
to people so poor that they never paid me! So I let one man pick out all
he had a mind to, for one thousand dollars in cash; and that paid my
expenses in Guatemala, until I got tired of the place, and started off
down here.’
“After swinging his hammock in his new quarters, Harry made the tour of
the village, and called on the padre, who was delighted to see him, as
padres always are, took him to his church, which was as large as a city
parlor, and then gave him a good dinner of fish and turtle. Harry had not
had so sumptuous a meal for many a day; and when the good father brought
forth a joint of bamboo, which held nearly a gallon, and drew from it a
supply of tolerable rum, he felt that he had fallen into the hands of a
good Samaritan. So long as this hospitality lasted, he sought no change.
In the fullness of his gratitude, he made visits to all the huts in the
village, and overwhelmed the inmates with presents of articles which he
had not been able to give away in other places. In return, they gave
him part of a morning’s fishing, or part of a turtle, and thus kept him
in provisions. But times changed after a few days; his friend the padre
ceased to bring forth the bamboo joint, and at the same time commenced
to exhort him to repentance, and to the acceptance of the true church.
His host, too, declined to catch any more fish than were consumed by his
interesting wife and three naked children.
“Harry smoked long and intensely over the subject. He might make a
‘raise’ on a pair of pantaloons, but then, ‘when that was gone?’ It was
the first time in his life that he had been obliged seriously to reflect
how he should be able to get his next meal. He tried oranges, bananas,
and pineapples, but still he was hungry. As to fishing, he had never
caught a fish in his life, and a turtle would be perfectly safe under his
feet. His case became desperate. Such cases require desperate remedies,
and Harry went to the padre, to consult with him as to the best mode of
reaching Leon, distant some two hundred miles, beyond the mountains.
“It was a lucky moment for a visit to the reverend father, since, in
return for some hides, sarsaparilla, and balsam, sent by him to his
correspondent, the padre at Choluteca, a large town on the Pacific,
he had received, among other luxuries, a reënforcement of bamboo
joints. These had already added to his good humor, and given to his
fat corporation and ruddy face an unusual glow. He gave Harry a warm
greeting, and pointing to the broached joint, told him to help himself,
which he did without reserve. Harry, in his best, though very bad
Spanish, stated his case, and the holy father listened and replied. The
next morning our hero awoke, and was rather surprised to find himself
yet at the padre’s house, where he had slept in a hammock. An empty
bamboo joint was beside him, and he had a glimmering idea of a compact
with the padre, through which he was to be extricated from his present
uncomfortable position, and reach Leon in a most acceptable manner. But
how this was to be done had escaped him; he had only a faint recollection
that the padre had insisted upon initiating him into some mystery or
other, and that in the fullness of heart he had assented, to the great
joy of the priest, who, on the spot had given him a hearty embrace, and
commenced learning him how to make the sign of the cross. The worthy
padre awoke with rather different sensations, for he felt exalted with
the thought that he, a poor priest over a miserable Indian community
for forty years, should finally be able to rescue the soul of a heretic
from the arch enemy. He was thankful that his eloquence had enabled him
to attach an immortal being to the true church—a white one at that, who
was of more value than a whole community of savages. It was a miracle,
he was satisfied, of his patron saint, Leocadia! So without loss of time
he proceeded with the work of redemption. Harry proved an apt disciple;
and after making up a lot of cigars from the tobacco-pouch of the padre,
the latter proceeded to explain to him what he required in the premises.
Harry’s mouth opened, and his cigar fell unheeded to the ground, when the
padre announced his intention to administer to him the rite of baptism
without delay.
“By the time he had finished his explanation, Harry’s mind was made up;
as there were no lookers on whom he cared for, he would let the padre
have his way, or, as he afterward expressed it, ‘put him through.’
“For several days the padre and himself worked hard. He went carefully
over the various responses and prayers, as they were dictated to him,
made the sign of the cross in due form and proper place, and, by the
assistance of the bamboo joint, was, on the second day pronounced in a
hopeful state, and told that the afternoon following should witness the
final act of his salvation. The sun was declining, when Harry, habited
in his best, proceeded to the padre’s house. He was rather surprised
at meeting so many people, for he had not been consulted in any of the
arrangements, and was not aware that every native in the vicinity had
been notified of the ceremony in which he was to take so important a
part. All had come, men, women, and children, dressed in very scanty, but
very clean white cotton garments. They opened a passage for him to enter
the padre’s house, whom he found arrayed in his priestly vestments. He
was informed that all were about proceeding to his house to escort him
to the church, but that, being on the spot, the procession would form at
once. Harry submitted without question to the padre’s directions, had a
quiet interview with the bamboo joint, and was ready. The procession was
headed by four alcaldes, of different villages, each with his official
baton, a tall, gold-headed staff. Next came the music, consisting
of three performers on rude clarionets, made of long joints of cane,
and three performers on drums, each made of a large calabash with a
monkey-skin drawn over it. Next came Harry and the worthy padre, and
then the people of the village, and the ‘invited guests,’ six deep, and
a hundred all told. When our hero took his place in the procession, the
padre threw over his shoulders a poncho, six feet long, gaudily decorated
with the tails of macaws, bright feathers from strange birds, and strings
of small river-shells, which rattled at every step; and thus they
started. First they went to Harry’s own hut, and, as they doubled that,
and took their route toward the church, he could see the last of the
procession leaving the vicinity of the padre’s house. After the manner
of their processions on high religious festivals, they came singing and
dancing, and altogether appearing very happy. Harry was glad in his heart
that no white man was looking on, and had to laugh inwardly at the fuss
that was made over him. In due time they arrived at the church, and the
usual ceremonies of baptism were gone through with, succeeded by a dance,
on the grass, to say nothing of a liberal dispensation from the padre’s
bamboo joints. The padre dismissed the assembly very early, and retired,
never having had so glorious or so fatiguing a day within his memory, and
he was the oldest inhabitant!
“Harry wended his way to his hammock, made a cigar, thought over the
events of the day, and wondered whether the church was now bound to find
him fish and the et ceteras; but, before any conclusion could be come at
in his mind, he fell asleep. Awaking in the morning, he was accosted at
his door by several neighbors, who asked him to accept the presents they
had brought, which he did of course, without knowing that it is always
the custom to send something to every villager whenever he happens to
have a christening, a marriage, or a death in his family. This being a
very great occasion, every body had been liberal and generous withal,
and in a short space he found himself supplied with provisions for a
long time, more fish than he could eat in months, turtles, chickens,
pigs, eggs, piles of fruit of all kinds, yams, wild animals, in fact
every thing that was edible. Sending a large part of his presents as an
offering to the church, Harry returned to his hammock and cigar, while
his hostess commenced cooking with an agreeable alacrity.
“Late in the afternoon he started for the padre’s house, but had hardly
emerged from his hut when he was somewhat surprised to find himself
joined by the musicians of the village, the clarionet taking precedence,
and the drum filing in, both playing the usual no-tune to the best of
their ability. And thus it happened for weeks afterward, for thus did the
padre seek to do honor to the new disciple of the faith.
“It was on one of these formal promenades,” continued H., “that we made
our appearance at Pantasma, to Harry’s exceeding astonishment, and great
joy. We ridiculed him for his emphatic dismissal of his musical friends,
but he was too much delighted to be captious, and sent straightway for
the padre, who brought with him a bamboo-joint, wherewith we made merry,
even to the going down of the sun. We all went to sleep while the worthy
priest was reading to us the certificate of Harry’s baptism, which he had
carefully engrossed on five closely-written pages.”
And what, I inquired, became of the convert?
“Oh! he returned with us; and that old Port which you tasted at the
Cape is one of the many evidences which I have received of his grateful
recollection, since he has returned to London to the inheritance of his
fathers.”