AT ODDS WITH CUSTOMS INSPECTORS
Though it was hardly daylight Jack was up and dressed and on deck when
the Mexican pilot came aboard to take the _Yucatan_ into Vera Cruz. A
filmy blue mist was rising from the broad surface of the harbor, making
the white walled seaport seem like a dream city. Dawn, like twilight, in
the Tropics is of brief duration, and the boy from New England scarcely
had time to mark the fleeting changes of color along the eastern horizon
before the sun came up, dispelling at once the lingering night mist. And
with the coming of day the city and the harbor became alive. Tiny sail
boats put out and from wharves and jetties here and there puffing tugs
made their appearance.
Jack Straw watched the scene with eager interest. It was all so new and
so very unlike what he had expected that he became thoroughly fascinated.
Off to the right he beheld the frowning walls of the old fortress and
military prison of San Juan de Ulloa. He recalled stories he had heard of
its dungeons where numberless horrible executions had taken place, and he
wondered how many enemies of Huerta lingered there at the present time.
From this grim building he turned his attention to the city. The spires
of the cathedral showed high above the housetops, and as Jack caught
sight of them there arose the most confused jargon of metallic sound that
he had ever heard. It was as if a regiment of blacksmiths were beating
on cracked anvils. He did not learn until he landed that these sounds
emanated from the belfry of the cathedral and were caused by a group of
bell ringers bent on calling the population to early mass.
In due time, after port inspectors, quarantine officers, and a host of
other uniformed individuals had climbed aboard and inspected every one
and everything in sight, the _Yucatan_ was permitted to make her way
slowly to the Pringle Line wharf.
Jack, valise in hand, was among the first down the gang-plank, but he had
hardly put foot on the dock before he was accosted by another uniformed
attendant who spoke very poor English. The boy managed after a great
deal of effort to understand that he was one of the customs inspectors
and that he was about to make an examination of the contents of the
valise. Jack willingly unlocked the leather bag and permitted the swarthy
searcher to tumble its contents about until he became convinced that the
youth had nothing on which he could collect duty. But he did not seem
satisfied. He looked at Jack from head to heels, noting particularly each
one of his pockets. Then suddenly he pointed to where the leather wallet
and drawing made the boy’s coat bulge slightly.
“What—ah—have. Ah—you—ah—er—” he puzzled his brain to know how to finish
the sentence in English. But finally becoming exasperated he tapped
Jack’s coat violently with his fingers.
“_Aqui! Aqui! Aqui!_” (here! here! here!) he demanded. Jack did not
understand the Spanish, but he knew that the leather wallet interested
the inspector. He hesitated to produce it at first and tried to satisfy
the dark-visaged little man by telling him that it was only a wallet. But
the Mexican would not be contented and in the end the boy had to reveal
to him the contents of the yellow leather case. At the sight of the blue
prints and sketches the native became thoroughly aroused. He tried to ask
questions in English but became so very confused that he resorted to his
native tongue and talked a perfect stream of Spanish. And of course Jack
was unable to understand a word of it.
Then the Mexican beckoned the young American to follow him, pointing at
the same time to a long low stone building near by which Jack concluded
was the custom house. Together they hurried across the street, the
inspector chattering so hard that Jack’s protests were lost completely.
The man led the way through several rather poorly kept offices to the
far end of the building, where they entered what was evidently the
room of the Chief Inspector of the port. An elderly and very dignified
old gentleman was the sole occupant. He was seated at a desk in the
far corner, but at their coming he arose and advanced to meet them.
Immediately the little inspector became thoroughly animated. He opened
the wallet (upon which he had kept a firm grip since Jack gave it to him)
and spread the drawings on the table before his superior, talking very
fast all the while. Together the two Mexicans examined each sketch, then
finally the old man turned and spoke to Jack.
“Do you converse Mexican?” he queried and Jack shook his head.
The Chief Inspector clapped his hands twice, whereat a servant appeared,
to disappear immediately upon receiving a few abrupt instructions.
Shortly after the servant entered again followed by a light-haired
youth of about Jack’s own age, and undoubtedly an American. The boy
from Vermont was decidedly pleased, but before he could speak the Chief
Inspector addressed the newcomer, pointing to the drawings and the
wallet at the conclusion of his remarks.
“He wants to know what these drawings are,” said the interpreter; “he
thinks that you are a spy in the employ of the revolutionists and that
these papers are very important.”
“Please tell him,” said Jack with a smile, “that the drawings are
valuable only to one person and he is the man who is making the
electricity which lights President Huerta’s palace and the streets of
Mexico City.”
There was a decided change in the attitude of both officials when this
was translated for them. The Chief Inspector bowed and smiled most
apologetically.
“So, Señor Ryder. He is your friend?” he said; “he is a—” but he could
get no further with his English, so he addressed the rest to the
interpreter who imparted it to Jack.
“He says that Mr. Ryder is a very wonderful man and that if you are his
friend he is sorry that he detained you. You are free to go now,” said
the American, and Jack, after thanking the dignified old Mexican, tucked
the wallet into his pocket and left the office. In the corridor of the
building he was overtaken by the interpreter, who paused a moment to
speak.
“My name is Dave Anson,” he said, “and if I can help you any, while you
are in Vera Cruz, just let me know. I always like to help out a fellow
countryman.”
“You have done a great deal for me already,” said Jack, “for if it had
not been for you I am afraid I would have found myself in a mighty
unhappy position. I certainly am obliged to you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Anson, then in an undertone he added, “Don’t
let the old chap deceive you. I could see he was rather skeptical about
what you said, but he is afraid to detain you any longer for fear you
might have a little more pull than he has, so he let you go. Don’t worry;
you’ll be shadowed every minute that you are in Vera Cruz, so mind your
actions. Well, so long and good luck to you.” The two boys shook hands
warmly and parted.
Jack gave little thought to his recent experience after he left the
custom house, for he had a great deal to attend to. First of all he must
find a banking house where he could get his American money exchanged for
Mexican currency. Dr. Moorland had given him the address of one of the
few honest banking firms in Vera Cruz, and after a long search he located
the place. He was very much surprised to find that for every one of his
American dollars he received two Mexican dollars in exchange. Indeed, his
capital was doubled and when he left the bank his trousers’ pockets and
wallet were weighted down with huge silver coins. Jack’s next object was
to find the railroad terminal, and since an English speaking clerk had
given him explicit directions as to its location he experienced little or
no difficulty in finding the long low building with its dirty trainshed.
A great many of the railroad men in Mexico above the grade of brakemen
are Americans and the young traveler had very little trouble at the
station. He learned, however, that he had two hours to wait before the
next train to the capital would be made up, and after buying his ticket
and making Pullman reservations he checked his valise and started on a
trip about the city.
Through hot unshaded streets he wandered, peering into the curious little
shops and watching with interest the swarthy people. Finally he reached
the broad plaza with its imposing cathedral, bandstand and line upon line
of park benches. Here he sat down to rest and watch a score of dirty,
half-clad children playing on the sidewalk. They were apparently taking
part in a game and Jack tried very hard to understand the details of it.
Indeed he became so interested that he did not realize some one had taken
the seat beside him until he felt a hand upon his arm.
“_Un centavo, Señor, un centavo_,” pleaded a whining voice, and Jack
found himself accosted by a very ugly and dirty-looking Mexican with a
monstrous hat. Though the lad did not understand his language he had
little difficulty in guessing that the man was begging for money. Eager
to be quit of such an uncouth companion he took several small coins from
his coat pocket and dropped them into the beggar’s outstretched palm.
But as he did so he looked up to find a man on a bench not far distant
watching him closely.
He was rather well dressed when compared to others Jack had noticed about
the city, wearing an unusually large sombrero of much better texture than
that of the beggar’s. The brim and band about the crown was embellished
with Indian beadwork which made it very picturesque. On being observed
this man lowered his eyes and began to roll a black paper cigarette, nor
did he look up again until Jack left the bench and started across the
plaza. However, he watched the lad’s movements from the corner of his eye
until the Vermonter turned toward the street that led to the railroad
terminal. Then he arose and followed at a distance.