[Illustration]
For a day and a half we continued to ascend, now skirting dizzy
precipices, and next stealing along cautiously beneath beetling rocks,
which hung heavily on the brow of the mountain. The features of the great
valley which we had left were no longer distinguishable. What we had
regarded as mountains there, now shrunk into simple undulations, like
folds in some silken robe, thrown loosely on the ground. There was no
longer a foothold for the pines, and their places were supplied by low
bushes, thrusting their roots deep in the clefts, and clinging like vines
to the faces of the rocks.
Finally, to my great joy, we reached the crest of the mountain. Upon the
north, however, it fell away in a series of broad steps or terraces,
lower and lower, until, in the dim distance, it subsided in the vast
alluvial plains bordering on the Bay of Honduras, the waters of which
could be distinguished, like a silver rim, on the edge of the horizon.
The air, on these high plateaus, was chill, and only the hardy
mountain-grasses and the various forms of cactus found root in their thin
and sterile soil. The latter were numerous and singular. Some appeared
above the earth, simple, fluted globes, radiating with spines, and having
in their centre a little tuft of crimson flowers. Others were mere
articulated prisms, tangled in clumps, and also bristling with prickles.
But the variety, known in Mexico as the _nopal_, was most abundant, and
grew of tree-like proportions.
Few as were these forms of vegetable life, animals and birds were fewer
still. An occasional deer contemplated us at a distance, and a little
animal, similar to the prairie-dog of the West, tumbled hurriedly
into his hole as we approached his solitary covert. In places, the
disintegrated quartz rock appeared above the surface for wide distances,
reflecting back the rays of the sun, which seemed to pour down with
unwonted and blinding brilliancy, from a cloudless sky. I could scarcely
comprehend the sudden change from the region of the lagoons, where the
overladen earth sweltered beneath forests teeming with life, and the air
was oppressed with the cloying odors of myriads of flowers, and this
stern region, ribbed with rock, where Nature herself seemed paralyzed,
and silence held an eternal reign.
It was a singular spectacle, that little troop of ours, as it hurried
rapidly across these mountain wastes, or huddled closely together, when
night came on, around a scanty fire, made of wood which the Poyer boy,
with wise prevision, had deposited there, on his return to the Tirolas.
As we descended from terrace to terrace, we came again into the region
of pines and oaks, which, in their turn, gave place to forests of other
varieties of trees, interrupted by strips of open or savannah lands. We
early struck a little stream, which, I observed, we followed constantly.
It proved to be the branch of the great river Patuca, upon which the
Poyer village is situated, and bore the musical name of Guallambre. At
night, when we encamped, the Poyer boy took a calabash, and, motioning to
me to follow, led the way down the stream to a little sand-bar. Scooping
up some of the sand in his bowl, and then filling it with water, he
whirled it rapidly, so that a feathery stream of mingled sand and water
flew constantly over its edge. He continued this operation until the sand
was nearly exhausted, and then filled the bowl again. After repeating
this process several times, he grew more careful, balancing the bowl
skillfully, and stopping occasionally to pick out the pebbles, which,
owing to their weight, had not been carried over by the water.
I understood at once that this was the primitive mode of washing gold,
and was, therefore, not greatly surprised when, after the process was
complete, the Poyer showed me a little deposit of gold, in grains, at the
bottom of the calabash, equal to about a fourth of an ounce in weight. He
then told me that all the streams, flowing down the mountains toward the
north, carried gold in their sands, and that the latter were frequently
washed by his people, to obtain the means of purchasing such articles of
civilized manufacture as they might need from the Spaniards of Olancho,
and the traders who visited the coast.[4]
On the eighth day from our encampment on the Tirolas, after a laborious
march among heavily-wooded hills, following, for most of the distance,
the bed of the Guallambre, now swollen to a considerable stream, we
reached the Poyer village. I say village, for such it was, in fact,
although composed of but a single house! This was a substantial
structure, forty paces in length, and ten broad, supported on stout
posts, and heavily thatched with palm-leaves. The front and ends were
open, but along the back extended a series of little apartments,
separated from each other by partitions of the outer shells of the
cabbage-palm, which, when split and pressed flat, make good substitutes
for boards. These were the dormitories, or private apartments of the
mated or married occupants, and of the girls. The places for the boys
were on elevated platforms, beneath the roof. A row of stones, set firmly
in the ground, defined the outline of the building. Within them the earth
was elevated a foot or more, to preserve it dry and unaffected by the
rains. The position was admirably chosen, on a kind of step or shelf of a
considerable hill, which rose behind, clothed with dense verdure, while
in front it subsided rapidly to the stream, here tumbling noisily among
the rocks, and yonder circling, bubble-sprinkled, in dark pools, beneath
the trees. The ground around was beaten smooth and hard, and numbers of
tamed curassows stalked to and fro, gravely elevating and depressing
their crests; while within the building, and on its roof, numerous
parrots and macaws waddled after each other, or exercised their voices
in loud and discordant cries. There were also a few pigs and ducks, all
appearing to be as much at home beneath the roof, as were the naked
Indian babies, with whom they mingled on terms of perfect equality.
[Illustration: POYER VILLAGE ON THE GUALLAMBRE.]
My boy had gone ahead, and had returned to meet us in company with
two old men, who were the lawgivers of the establishment, and who
reverentially touched my knee with their foreheads, by way of
salutation. They said but a single word, which I suppose was one of
welcome, and then led the way silently to the house. At one end a space
had been recently fenced off, containing two new crickeries, within which
my various articles were deposited, and which were at once indicated to
me as my special apartment.
All the proceedings had been conducted so rapidly, that I was fairly
installed in my novel quarters before I was aware of it. Our arrival had
evidently been anticipated, for almost immediately the women brought
us hot rolls of a species of bread made of ground cassava, baked in
the ashes, with the addition of some stewed flesh of the _waree_, so
tender and savory that it would have commended itself to a far more
fastidious appetite than mine. I made a prodigious meal, to the palpable
satisfaction of my faithful Poyer, who kept every calabash heaped up with
food.
As I have said, the Indians of Central America differ widely from their
fiercer brethren of our country, not less in their modes of life than in
all their social and civil relations. This Poyer community afforded an
example of a purely patriarchal organization, in which the authority of
paternity and of age was recognized in the fullest degree. Every evening
the old men, each taking a lighted brand, gathered within a small circle
of stones, at one corner of the house, and there deliberated upon the
affairs of the community, and settled its proceedings for the following
day. In these conferences neither the women nor young men were permitted
to take part. All the labor of the community was performed in common, and
all shared equally in the results. In one or two of the recesses which I
have described, were some ancient and helpless crones, who were treated
with all the care and tenderness of children. The whole establishment,
according to the best of my count, consisted of about one hundred and
forty persons, young and old, of whom thirty-five were full-grown men.
In figure the Poyers or Payas are identical with the Towkas and Woolwas,
except more muscular—the consequence, probably, of their cooler climate
and severer labor. The women were less shy, perhaps from their more
social mode of living. In common with those of the coast, they go naked
to the waist, whence depends a skirt of striped cotton cloth, reaching
to the knees. Their hair is invariably parted in front, and held in
place by a cotton band, bound tightly around the forehead. They were
always occupied. Some, squatting on the ground, spun the native cotton,
of which all the Indians raise small quantities, while others wove it
into cloth. Both processes were rude but ingenious. The spindle consists
of a small ball of heavy wood, through which passes a thin shaft, the
whole resembling an overgrown top, the lower end resting in a calabash,
to prevent it from toppling over. Some of the cotton is attached to this
spindle, which is twirled between the thumb and forefinger. While it is
in motion the thread is carefully drawn out from a pile of cotton in the
lap of the spinner. When it stops the thread is wound on the spindle,
and the same process repeated. The process of weaving was certainly a
simple one, but after several unsatisfactory attempts to describe it, I
am obliged to confess my inability to do so, in an intelligible manner.
But a principal occupation of the women was the grinding of maize for
tortillas, and of preparing the cassava. For these purposes there were
a number of flat stones elevated on blocks, which were called by the
Mexican name of _metlatl_. These were somewhat concave on the upper
surface, in which fitted a stone roller, worked by hand. With this
the maize was speedily ground to a fine consistence; the paste was
then made into small cakes, which were baked rapidly on broad earthen
platters, supported over brisk fires. The cakes require to be eaten
when crisp and hot, in order to be relished; for when cold they become
heavy and tasteless. Upon these stones they also crushed the stalks
of the indigenous sugar-cane to extract the juice, which, mixed with
powdered wild-cacao, is allowed to ferment, constituting an agreeable and
exhilarating beverage, called _ulung_.
Every morning all the girls went down to the stream to bathe, which they
did without any overstrained affectation of modesty; but the mothers and
old women always sought a spot secluded from the general gaze. It was
only when thus engaged that the girls were at all playful. They dashed
the water in each others’ faces, and sought to drag each other under
the surface, in the deep pools, where they swam about as mermaids are
supposed to do, and as if the water was their native element. At all
other times they were as distant and demure as the daintiest damsels in
all New England.
The Poyers are certainly a provident people. Although there were no signs
of plantations in the vicinity of their establishments, yet, at various
points in the neighborhood, where there occurred patches of rich interval
land, were small fields of sugar-cane, plantains, squashes, maize, yucas,
and cassava, all protected by fences, and attended with the utmost care.
From every beam of the house depended bunches of plantains and bananas,
huge yams, and dried flesh of various kinds, but chiefly that of the
_waree_, while closely packed, on platforms under the roof, were a few
bales of sarsaparilla, which I found they were accustomed to carry down
to the coast for purposes of barter.
The Poyers or Payas, as I have intimated, are eminently agriculturists,
and although they sometimes follow the chase, it is not as a principal
means of support. Nor is it followed from any fantastic notion of
excitement or adventure, but in a direct and downright manner, which is
the very reverse of what is called “sport.” I had an example of this in
their mode of fishing, which quite astonished all my previous notions on
that subject, and which evinced to me furthermore, that fishes, although
cold-blooded, are not exempt from having their heads turned, provided
they are approached in a proper manner.
My Poyer boy, who was unwearying in his devices to entertain and interest
me, one day conceived a brilliant idea, which he hastened to communicate
to the old men, who held a sober _monexico_, or council upon it, and
resolved that there should be made a grand demonstration upon the fish,
for the double purpose of amusing the stranger, and of replenishing the
supplies. The resolution, taken at night, was carried into execution in
the morning. While a portion of the men proceeded down the stream to
construct a temporary wier of boughs, others collected a large quantity
of a species of vine called _bequipe_, which is common in the woods, has
a rank growth, is full of juice, and emits a pungent odor. These vines
were cut in sections, crushed between stones, and placed in large earthen
pots, left to steep, over a slow fire.
I watched all the operations with curious interest. About the middle of
the afternoon they were completed; the pots containing the decoctions
were duly shouldered, and we all started up the stream. At the distance
of perhaps a quarter of a mile, we met a number of men wading down the
channel, and beating the water with long poles, by way of concentrating
the fish in the direction of the wiers. Here the pots were simultaneously
emptied in the stream, which the contents tinged of a brownish hue. Up to
this moment, the various preparations had greatly puzzled me, but now I
discovered that the purpose of the decoction was to poison, or rather to
intoxicate the fish, which it did effectively; for, as we proceeded down
the stream, numbers rose struggling to the surface, vainly endeavoring to
stem the current, which swept them toward the wiers.
At every step they became more numerous, until the whole stream was
thronged with them. Some were quite stupefied, and drifted along
helplessly, while others made spasmodic efforts to resist the potent
influence of the _bequipe_. But, sooner or later, they too drifted down,
with a faint wagging of their tails, which seemed to express that they
fairly “gave it up.”
The wier had been built at the foot of a considerable pool, which was
literally covered with the stupefied fishes. There were many varieties
of them, and the Indians stationed at that point were already engaged
in picking out the largest and best, tossing the others over the wier,
to recover their senses at their leisure, in the clear water below. As
soon as the fish were thrown ashore, they were taken charge of by the
women, who cleaned them on the spot, and with wonderful dexterity. They
were afterward taken to the house, rubbed with salt, and smoke-dried over
fires, after the manner which I have already described, as practiced by
the Sambos at Pearl Cay Lagoon.
It would naturally be supposed that a decoction so powerful as to affect
the water of a large stream, would also damage the fish, and unfit them
for food. But such is not the case. The effect seems to be precisely
that of temporary intoxication, and the fish, if left in the water, would
soon recover from its influence.
Time passed pleasantly among the hospitable Poyers, and I was treated
with such ceremonious deference and respect, that I began to think that
a far worse fortune might befall me, than that of becoming a member of
this peaceful and prosperous community, on the banks of the Guallambre.
In fact, I finally detected myself speculating upon the possibility of
promoting one of the dark Naiads, whom I every morning watched sporting
in the river, to the occupancy of the vacant crickery in my apartment.
And then the fact that there were two crickeries—was not that intended
as a delicate suggestion on the part of the Poyers, whose ideas of
hospitality might be less circumscribed than my own? The thought that
they might imagine me dull of apprehension, and slow to improve upon a
hint, grew upon me with every new and nearer contemplation of the Naiads,
and I began seriously to think of submitting a formal proposition on the
subject, to the _monexico_. But men’s fates often hinge upon trifling
circumstances, and had I not detected a deepening shadow of anxiety on
the face of Antonio, I might have become a patriarch in Poyerdom! Who
knows?
Early after our arrival at the Foyer village, I was surprised to
observe Antonio in close consultation with the old men, in the nightly
_monexico_. They seemed to be deeply interested in his communications,
and I imagined that they became daily more thoughtful. But now, whatever
purpose Antonio might have had in view, it appeared to have been
accomplished.
So, one evening, I called him aside, and announced that I was ready to
depart. He grasped my hand, pressed it to his heart, and said, in a tone
of emotion—“The voice of the tiger is loud in the mountain, and the sons
of the Holy Men are waiting by the lake of the Itzaes!”
I comprehended the latent meaning of these poetical words, for I had
already seen enough of Antonio to discover that his absence from Yucatan
was in some way connected with a concerted movement of the aborigines,
and that now some crisis was approaching which drew him irresistibly
toward his native land. Resolved not to be instrumental in delaying him
for an hour unnecessarily, and half repenting that I had detained him
so long—for his attachment and gratitude were too real to permit him
to abandon me in the wilderness—I at once communicated my intention of
leaving to the old men. They took it under serious deliberation, which
resulted in their dispatching some men before daybreak, on the following
morning, to prepare a canoe for our descent of the Patuca. The canoes,
I found, were not kept on the Guallambre, for two reasons: first, that
its course is circuitous, and second, and principally, because it runs
through the settlements of the Spaniards of Olancho, with whom the
Indians avoid all relations which are not absolutely necessary. Their
boats were therefore kept half a day’s journey distant, beyond a chain of
high hills, on a large tributary of the Patuca, called Amacwass.
I verily believe I would have been a welcome guest among my Poyer
friends, so long as I might have chosen to remain; yet they did not urge
me to stay, but hastened to help me off, as if my intimations were to be
regarded as commands.
During the day a large quantity of provisions were dispatched to the
boat, and at night the _monexico_ selected two men, and my old companion
the Poyer boy, to accompany us to the coast. We took our departure early
in the morning, while it was yet dark, without creating the slightest
disturbance in the establishment. Only the old men, who had come out
to meet us two weeks before, now went ahead with large brands of fire,
to light the way; but, when the day broke, they again touched their
foreheads to my knee, and returned, leaving us to prosecute our journey
alone.
We reached the Amacwass in the afternoon, and found a boat, twice as
large as the canoe in which we had navigated the lagoons, all prepared
for instant departure. A space near the middle was covered with a thatch
of palm branches, to protect me from the sun, and altogether it promised
a degree of comfort and convenience to which I had been a stranger, in my
previous voyagings.
We embarked at once, and dropped rapidly down with the current, the
Indians only using their paddles to direct the boat, and keep it clear
of the rocks which obstructed the channel. The water was wonderfully
clear, every where revealing the bottom with the greatest distinctness.
The banks were covered with a heavy forest, in which the eye was often
arrested by the stately forms of the mahogany-tree, with its massive
foliage, rising high above the general level; or by the still taller
and more graceful plumes of the palmetto-royal. Vegetation seemed to
have a more vigorous, but less redundant life, than on the Mosquito
Shore; that is to say, it assumed more compact and more decided forms,
occasioned, probably, by the comparative absence of jungle, not less than
by peculiarities of soil.
There was something exhilarating in our rapid course; and the voice of
the waters, here murmuring over a pebbly bottom, and yonder breaking
hoarsely over the obstructing rocks, reminded me of my distant New
England home, and recalled the happy hours which I had spent in the
sole companionship of its merry mountain streams. It was, after all,
by the standard of my youthful experiences, that I measured my present
enjoyments; and it was rare indeed, even in my most cheerful moods, that
the comparison was favorable to the latter. The senses blunted by years,
and the memory crowded with events, fails to appreciate so keenly or
record so deeply, the experiences of middle life, and pure happiness,
after all, dwells chiefly in the remembrance of the distant past.
As soon as the shadows of evening began to settle over the narrow valley
of the Amacwass, we halted, and made our camp, maintaining throughout
the night a great fire, not less for its cheerful influences than for
protection against the fierce black tigers, or pumas, which abound on
this flank of the mountains. We heard their screams, now near, now
distant, to which the monkeys responded with alarmed and anxious cries,
so like those of human beings in distress, as more than once to startle
me from my slumbers. These caricatures on humanity seemed to be more
numerous here than further down the coast, and we often saw large troops
of them in the overhanging trees, where they gravely contemplated us as
we drifted by. Occasionally one, more adventurous than the rest, would
slide down a dependent limb or vine, scold at us vehemently for a moment,
and then scramble back again hurriedly, as if alarmed at his own audacity.
On the second day the current of the Amacwass became more gentle,
and just before night we shot out of its waters into the large and
comparatively majestic Patuca. Our course down this stream was not so
rapid. In places the current was so slight that it became necessary to
use our paddles; while elsewhere the greatest caution was requisite to
guide our boat safely over the numerous _chiflones_ or rapids by which
it was interrupted. But these, though difficult, and in some instances
dangerous, sunk into insignificance when compared with what is called _El
Portal del Infierno_, or the “Gateway of Hell.” My Poyer boy had several
times alluded to it, as infinitely more to be dreaded than any of the
passes which we had yet encountered, and as one which would be likely to
excite my alarm.
We reached it on the day after we had entered the Patuca. As we advanced,
the hills began to approach each other, and high rocks shut in the river
upon both sides. Huge detached masses also rose in the middle of the
stream, around which the water whirled and eddied in deep, dark gulfs,
sucking down the frayed and shattered trunks of trees, from which the
branches had long before been torn by rude contact with the rocks, only
to reject them again from their depths, far below. The velocity of our
boat increased, and I became apprehensive in view of the rushing current
and rocky shores; nor was the feeling diminished, when the men commenced
to lash the various articles contained in the boat by thongs to its
sides, since that precaution implied a possibility of our being overset.
Antonio urged me to strip, which I did, in preparation for the worst
contingency. Meanwhile the stream narrowed more and more, and the rocks
towered higher and higher above our heads. The water no longer dashed
and chafed against the shores, but, dark and glassy, shot through the
narrow gorge with a low hissing sound, more fearful than its previous
turbulence. I involuntarily held my breath, grasping firmly the sides
of the boat, and watching anxiously the dark forms of the Indians, as,
silently, and with impassible features, they guided the frail slab upon
which our lives depended. On, on we swept, between cliffs so lofty and
beetling as to shut out the sun, and involve us in twilight obscurity.
I looked up, and, at a dizzy height, could only trace a narrow strip
of sky, like the cleft in the roof of some deep cavern. A shudder ran
through every limb, and I could well understand why this terrible pass
had been named the “Mouth of Hell!” He must have been a bold man who
ventured first within its horrid jaws!
I drew a long breath of relief when the chasm began to widen, and the
current to diminish in violence. But it was probably then that we were in
the greatest danger, for the bed of the stream was full of angular rocks
which had been swept out from the _cañon_, to be heaped up here in wild
disorder. A misdirected stroke of a single paddle would have thrown our
frail boat upon them, and dashed it into a thousand pieces.
[Illustration: “GATEWAY OF HELL.”]
Before night, however, we had entirely passed the rapids, and were
drifting quietly over the smooth, deep reaches of the river—the bubbles
on its surface, and the flecks of white foam clinging to its banks, alone
indicating the commotion which raged above.
There are many legends connected with the “Portal del Infierno.” Within
it the Indians imagine there dwells a powerful spirit, who is sometimes
seen darting through its gloomiest recess, in the form of a large bird.
That night, each of the Poyers poured a portion of his allowance of
_chicha_ in the stream, as a thank-offering to the spirit of the river.
This, and the offerings made to fire, were the only religious rites which
I witnessed while in their country; but it is not thence to be inferred
that they are without religious forms, for it is precisely these that
they are most careful to conceal from the observation of the stranger.
As we proceeded down the river, and entered the alluvions of the coast,
both the stream and its banks underwent an entire change. The latter
became comparatively low, and frequently, for long distances, were wholly
covered with feathery palms, unrelieved by any other varieties of trees.
Snags and stranded logs obstructed the channel, and sand-bars appeared
here and there, upon which the hideous alligators stretched themselves
in the sun, in conscious security. Occasionally, we observed swells or
ridges of savannah land, like those on the Mosquito Shore, supporting
pines and acacias. But the general character of the country was that of
a broad alluvion, in places so low as to be overflowed during floods—rich
in soil, and adapted to the cultivation of all the tropical staples.
On the seventh day from the Poyer village, we reached a point where the
river divides, forming a delta, the principal channel leading off to the
sea direct, and the other conducting to a large lagoon, called _Brus_ by
the Spaniards, where the Caribs of the coast have their establishments.
We took the latter, and the Indians plied their paddles with increased
energy, as if anxious to bring our tedious voyage to a close.