For six days the Swan sailed westward before a gentle wind. Then
clouds were seen rising in the north, and spreading with great
rapidity across the horizon.
"We are in for a tempest," Captain Reuben said. "Never have I seen
the clouds rising more rapidly.
"Get her sail off her, Standing, as quickly as possible."
The crew fell to work, and in a very few minutes the Swan was
stripped of the greater part of her canvas. But quickly as the men
worked, the storm came up more rapidly, and the crew had but half
finished their work when, with a roar and turmoil that almost
bewildered them, the gale struck the vessel. Her head had been laid
to the south, so that the wind should take her astern; and it was
well that it was so, for had it struck her on the beam, she would
assuredly have been capsized, even had not a rag of canvas been
shown, for the wind would have caught her lofty forecastle and
poop. As it was she plunged heavily forward, quivering as if from a
blow. Then her bluff bows bore her up and, with a leap, she sprang
forward and sped along before the gale.
"I have seen as sudden a squall among the Greek islands," Captain
Reuben shouted in the mate's ear; "but never elsewhere. I hope that
this may prove as short as do the gales in that quarter."
"I hope so," the mate replied, "for we know not how far the land
may be distant."
But though the captain knew it not, they had been caught in one of
those furious gales that were, afterwards, the terror of the
Spaniards; blowing for a week or ten days without intermission, and
being the cause of the wreck of many a stout ship. The sea got up
rapidly, and the wind seemed to increase in fury as night fell, and
for three days the ship ran before it. The waist was frequently
deluged with water, and it required six men at the helm to keep her
straight before the wind.
The crew were worn out with fatigue and want of sleep, for running
as they were in this unknown sea, none could say what might happen,
or when land might be sighted ahead. The captain never left the
poop--he and the mates taking their places, by turn, with the men
at the helm; for the slightest error in steering might have caused
the vessel to broach to, in which case nothing could have saved
her. Sheltered as was the caboose, it was found impossible to keep
a fire alight, and officers and men, alike, had to content
themselves with biscuit and draughts of ale.
The vessel rolled till her bulwarks were under water, and the
yardarms at times dipped into the sea, and the men on deck were
forced to lash themselves to some standing object, to retain their
footing. The captain occasionally made his way forward to the
forecastle, where the men not on duty were huddled together, and
spoke cheeringly to them, saying that the gale could not last much
longer, and that as the Swan had weathered it so far, she would
hold on to the end.
At the commencement of the storm a tremendous rain had fallen, but
when this had ceased the sky had cleared up, and for the last two
days the sun had shone out brightly, and not a cloud had been seen.
When morning broke on the fourth day a cry of dismay broke from the
wearied men on deck, for ahead could be seen land, stretching away
on both bows. The news brought the crew from below, and they
clustered on the forecastle, gazing in the direction of this new
danger.
"We must try and get some sail on her mizzen, Standing," the
captain said. "Our only chance is to bring her head to wind."
"We can try, Captain, but I fear that you will never bring her
round."
"It is our only chance," the captain repeated, and with a loud
shout, he called for some hands to come aft.
The mizzen was shaken out and, as soon as the sheets were hauled
aft, the helm was put down. A cry burst from the crew as she came
round, for as the wind took her on the beam she lay farther and
farther over. A great wave struck her broadside, sweeping the
bulwarks away as if they had been paper, and carrying a number of
the crew off the forecastle into the sea. Still farther over she
went, and all thought that she would capsize; when there were a
series of reports, like musket shots, as the lashings of the
shrouds parted. This was followed instantly by a crash, as the
mizzen mast snapped off, two feet above the deck.
Relieved of the strain, the Swan righted somewhat. Another great
wave swept over her forecastle, still further diminishing the
number of the crew, but it carried her head round. She came up onto
an even keel, and again started on her mad course before the wind.
"Go forward, Pengarvan, and see how many hands we have lost," the
captain said. "Not that it makes much difference, for they have but
gone a short time before the rest of us, for nothing short of a
miracle can save us, now."
It could now be seen that the coast was steep and rocky, and that
the waves were breaking with tremendous force upon it. It was but
about four miles distant, and in less than half an hour they would
be upon it.
"We must try to anchor, Standing."
The first mate shook his head.
"We will try, Captain, but our anchors will never hold her in the
teeth of this gale. If they did, the hawsers would go like pack
thread."
"I am afraid so, Standing; but there is nothing else to do."
The first mate went forward, and he and Pengarvan saw the anchors
got in readiness, and the cables ranged along, so as to run out
with perfect freedom. Then Pengarvan made his way aft again to the
poop.
"Do you mean to cut away the mast, Captain?"
The captain nodded.
"I wouldn't, sir," the mate went on. "She will never hold, mast or
no mast; and if it stands, we make a shift to run her head foremost
on the rocks, and this will give us a better chance than if she
drifts broadside on."
"You are right, Pengarvan. Yes, it will be better to leave it
standing."
When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the helm was again
put down and, as the vessel came partly round, the the anchors were
let go. The hawsers ran out rapidly, and the topsail, which was the
only sail on her, was let go, the wind catching it and tearing it
into ribbons as it was loosed. There was a jerk and a surge as the
anchors brought her up, but at the same moment a great wave struck
her head. The cables parted, and she again swung round towards the
shore.
"It is all over with us, my lad," the captain said to Roger, who
was standing quietly beside him. "God forgive me, I have brought
you all here to die."
"It is not your fault, father. It was all for the best, and we knew
when we started that there were perils before us."
"Goodbye, my lads! We will die as we have lived--brave men--and may
God have mercy on us all.
"Now, Roger, obey my last orders. Go forward, and climb up to the
end of the bowsprit. It may be that, if she strikes, you may be
able to leap forward onto the rocks. They are somewhat lower, just
ahead, than elsewhere."
"But I do not want to be saved, if no one else is, father," Roger
cried passionately.
"You have always obeyed me heretofore," the captain said, quietly,
"and you will do so now. Go forward at once, and do as I say. God
bless you, my boy."
He clasped Roger in his arms, in a moment's close embrace, and then
pointed forward.
Roger's eyes were blinded with tears as he obeyed the order. The
bowsprit in those days did not, as now, run out almost horizontally
from the ship's bow; but stood up like a mast, leaning somewhat
over the bow, and carried a yard and small square sail upon it.
Roger climbed up as far as the yard and then, aiding himself by the
halyards, swarmed up until he reached the cap. When he did so the
vessel was but little more than a hundred yards from the shore.
The water was deep up to the rocks, for the waves struck on these
unbroken, flying up in masses of spray which flew far over the
land. On his lofty post, thirty feet above the forecastle and
forty-five above the water, Roger was nearly level with the top of
the rock ahead; and as the vessel rose on the waves, could see a
flat land, extending far inland.
He looked down. Two or three of the sailors had followed him as
high as the yard, and many others were gathered on the forecastle.
Some were kneeling in prayer, others had thrown themselves down
despairingly on the deck, but most were standing, looking forward
with set faces at the rocky barrier so close at hand.
Roger looked aft. The men at the tiller had quitted it now, and
gone forward. Standing and Pengarvan were standing, one on each
side of the captain. The latter took off his cap and waved it to
his son, and the mates lifted their hands in token of adieu.
A cry from below caused Roger, as he returned the salute, to look
round. They were but a ship's length from the rocks. Another moment
a great wave lifted the vessel, and on its crest she went
thundering forward. The rocks seemed to leap up against the spar to
which Roger clung. It snapped off just below his feet, then a great
volume of water and spray shot up from below, and he was thrown
high into the air. The wind caught him and carried him away inland,
and he fell, with a crash that left him senseless.
It was long before he recovered consciousness. As soon as he did
so, he crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the cliff, and
looked down. The Swan had disappeared. Not a sign of her remained,
not so much as a floating timber showed on the surface of the
water.
Roger crawled back again for some distance, and then threw himself
down, and wept despairingly. He lay there for hours, until the heat
of the sun, blazing almost vertically down, roused him. Then he got
on to his feet and looked round.
In front of him stretched a slightly undulating country. Patches of
maize, here and there, showed that it was cultivated; and in the
distance he saw a large village, with buildings of a size that
proved that the people had made some advance towards civilization.
Slowly and painfully, for he was greatly bruised by his fall, he
made his way to the nearest maize patch, and ate several heads of
green corn. Then he started for the village.
When within a few hundred yards of it, he came upon three women,
who were coming out with baskets on their heads. They paused as he
approached them, and then, with a cry of astonishment and fear,
turned and ran towards the village.
Their cries brought a number of people to the doors. Among these
were many men, who had caught up spears, and bows and arrows, at
the alarm. Seeing but one person approaching, in a garb altogether
strange to them, they stood in surprise. As he came up their wonder
heightened, at perceiving that his color was altogether different
from their own; and they dropped their threatening weapons, and
stood as if paralyzed by wonder.
Roger had not faltered in his step, as he saw them issue out. Death
had no terror for him, now his father and all his friends were
gone; and he was altogether reckless of what befell him. The
fearlessness of his demeanor added to the effect produced by his
appearance. His cap was gone, and the rays of the sun, falling upon
his fair hair, added to the effect produced by his white skin.
The natives, taking him for a supernatural being, bowed themselves
to the ground before him in an attitude of adoration. The cries and
uproar that but a minute before had sounded in the village suddenly
ceased, and were succeeded by the hush of deep awe.
Roger walked on between the prostrate natives, and seated himself
on a stone at the door of a hut. The natives gradually rose to
their feet and approached him timidly. He made signs that he wanted
to drink, for a raging thirst had been induced by the heat.
One of the natives ran into a hut and reappeared with a bowl,
filled with a liquid, which he humbly presented to Roger. The
latter patted his head in token of thanks, and then took a long
drink of the contents of the bowl. These were totally unlike
anything he had before tasted; being pulque, a slightly fermented
drink obtained from the juice of the agave, most useful of all the
vegetable productions of Central America.
A native, who was distinguished by his dress from the rest, now
gave an order; and in a short time two women approached, bearing a
tray with some flat cakes of fine bread, and fruits of different
kinds. More to please the natives than because he was hungry, for
he felt little inclination for food, Roger partook of some of
these.
The chief then harangued him at considerable length. When he had
finished, Roger, who had stood up while he was addressing him,
said:
"I do not know a single word of what you are saying to me, but I
thank you for your kindness."
He then shook hands with the chief, to whom that form of greeting
was evidently new, and patted him on the shoulder.
The chief then conducted him to a large house. It was no higher
than the rest, but was built of stone, well fitted together. The
roof was roughly thatched, and could, Roger thought, afford but a
poor shelter in time of rain. He did not know that, except at the
commencement of a storm, rain was of comparatively rare occurrence
upon the coast.
Inside the house showed signs of comfort. There were some seats
decorated with carving. A finely woven mat covered the floor. Arms
and utensils hung from the walls.
Several of the natives, evidently persons of consideration in the
village, followed the chief in. Some girls and women came in from
an interior room, and saluted the stranger with the greatest
respect. They examined him timidly, one of the younger girls
touching his hand gently, as if to make sure that it was skin, and
not some strange covering, that gave it its color.
Roger took off his jacket, which was by this time dry, and turned
up the sleeve of his shirt. As he did so, a general exclamation of
surprise and admiration broke from the natives at the whiteness of
the skin; which was far more striking, to them, than the bronzed
hue of his face and hands.
The chief made various signs, which Roger at last understood to be
a question as to whence he had come. He pointed in the direction of
the sea, and tried to signify that he had arrived from a very long
distance.
An hour passed, and Roger was beginning to wonder what the next
move would be, when a native entered and, saluting the chief, said
something to him. The women and children at once retired. A few
minutes afterwards the chief went to the door, and motioned Roger
to accompany him.
Coming down the street of the village was a procession. At its head
walked two persons, evidently of high rank. They wore mantles,
falling from their shoulders nearly to the ground, ornamented with
designs executed in brightly colored feathers. They had circlets of
gold round their heads, and heavy necklaces and bracelets of the
same metal. Beneath the mantles they wore short petticoats of soft
white material. Their spears and their arms were carried behind
them, by attendants. Behind these came a number of men and women,
walking in regular order, carrying bowls of fruit, trays of cooked
food, and other offerings.
Roger saw at once that they must have come from a place of
importance; which must be near at hand, as they had doubtless set
out upon the receipt of a message, dispatched by his present
entertainer. He guessed that the report must have been a favorable
one of him, and that the natives were impressed with the idea that
he was a superior being. It was, therefore, needful for him to
comport himself so that this impression should be confirmed.
The chiefs bowed profoundly as they approached him, stooping so far
forward that one hand touched the earth, and was then carried to
their forehead. Roger did not understand the meaning of this, but
he bowed graciously, as if accepting the homage that was offered.
The bearers then advanced, and placed the offerings on the ground.
Among these was a mantle similar to that worn by the chiefs, but
more richly embroidered. It struck Roger that, as his white skin
excited so much admiration, it would be as well to show it. He was,
too, somewhat ashamed of his garments; which were much worn, had
turned a dingy hue from the sun and salt water, and had, moreover,
shrunk much from their recent immersion. Taking up the robe,
therefore, he motioned to the chiefs to stay where they were and,
returning into the room, stripped to his waist; and then, throwing
the mantle over his shoulders, returned to the entrance.
Something like a shout of welcome saluted him. The whiteness of his
skin, as seen through the open mantle, astonished the natives; and
they accepted his assumption of the garment, with which he had been
presented, as a sign of the benevolent intentions of this
supernatural visitor towards them.
The ambassadors now made signs in the direction from which they had
come, and seemed to ask if he were willing to accompany them. He
nodded his assent, and in a few minutes the procession again
started, the chiefs taking their places one on either side of him,
and the villagers falling in behind. The women struck up a sort of
chant, in which all except the chiefs joined. For an hour they kept
on their way and then, on ascending a small hill, a large town was
seen.
"Tabasco," the chief said, pointing towards it.
Roger repeated the word, and in doing so evidently gave much
pleasure to the chiefs. As they approached the town he could see
many lofty buildings rising above it; and, as they passed through a
line of long palisades that surrounded the place, a body of men
issued out to meet him.
As they approached, they formed in order on each side of the road.
All were armed with spears tipped with sharp, shiny stones, and
carried bows and arrows. They were dressed in doublets of thickly
quilted cotton, capable of turning an arrow or resisting the thrust
of a native spear; although they would offer but poor protection
against English arrows, or English weapons.
As they entered the town the streets were lined with similarly
dressed soldiers; behind whom stood a crowd of natives, men and
women saluting their strange visitor with loud cries of welcome.
The procession continued its way until it stopped before a large
building, at the entrance to which stood an aged chief. His mantle
was completely composed of feather work, and plumes of feathers
sprang from the golden fillet that encircled his head. Behind him
were clustered a number of inferior chiefs.
He welcomed Roger courteously but gravely; and Roger guessed, at
once, that he was superior to the superstitions of his people, and
that he viewed him with a certain amount of suspicion. Roger bowed
and, taking off the jackknife, which hung in its sheath from a
string at his waist, drew it out and presented it to the chief.
The latter was evidently greatly struck by the gift. Gold and
silver he knew, but this bright and shining metal was altogether
new to him. He examined it closely, felt the edge and point, and
then handed it to the chiefs behind him, to be examined by them.
Roger saw by his manner that he had been favorably impressed, for
the weapon was as strange and mysterious, to him, as the visitant.
The chief undid a large gold necklace that he wore, and offered it
to Roger, who bowed and clasped it round his neck. The chief now
led him inside the house, which was similar, but on a much larger
scale, to that which he had before entered. Refreshments were
placed before him. These he did not need, but thought it better to
eat of them. While he was so doing, an animated conversation was
maintained between the chief and his followers.
After a time, the chief made signs to him to follow him, and
conducted him to a smaller house close by, which he made signs to
him that he was to consider as his own. Mats had been already
spread on the ground; rugs made of quilted cotton, for sleeping
upon, piled in a corner; vases of flowers placed about the room,
and all made ready for occupation. An old woman, followed by two
young girls, came forward and saluted to the ground. They were
slaves, whom the chief had appointed to wait upon the visitor.
No sooner had the chief left than a perfect levee commenced, and
went on for hours; until it seemed to Roger that every man, woman,
and child in the town must have called upon him. Most of them
brought little presents as tokens of goodwill. Garlands of flowers
were thrown round his neck, baskets of fruit, cakes made from maize
flour, dishes of meat of various kinds, little trinkets of gold,
baskets containing beans and many other eatable seeds, and a ground
powder of brownish hue, of whose uses Roger was ignorant, but which
he afterwards discovered to be cocoa, which furnished the most
popular beverage of the natives.
Not until it was quite dark did the stream of visitors cease. Then
the old slave dropped a hanging across the door, and one of the
young ones brought forward to Roger, who was utterly worn out with
the fatigues of the day, a bowl of steaming cocoa, and some cakes
of fruit. Roger found the cocoa extremely palatable, and wholly
unlike anything he had ever before tasted; and it seemed to
invigorate him greatly.
After drinking, he spread some of the quilted mats upon the floor,
and threw himself down upon them. The old woman had lighted a lamp,
and withdrawn with the younger ones to an apartment behind; which
served as their sleeping place, as well as kitchen.
Now that he was alone and had time to think, Roger broke down
entirely. Was it possible that it was but this morning he was on
board ship, with his father and friends; and that now all were
gone, gone forever, and he was in a strange land, cut off from all
hope of return, surrounded by people who, if they were friendly
today, might yet, for aught he knew, slay him on the morrow?
For the time, however, his own fate occupied him but little. His
thoughts turned almost exclusively upon his father. Upon their
voyages together, his kindness and care for him, the high hopes
they had cherished when they started upon their voyage, and above
all upon his parting words, and the last gesture of farewell, just
as the ship struck.
For hours Roger lay and sobbed. At last he heard a slight movement
in the room and, looking up, saw one of the young slave girls
regarding him with a look of deep pity. To her, as to everyone
else, Roger had appeared as a supernatural being, come from they
knew not whence; but the lad's sobs had touched her human feelings,
and shown her that he had sorrows, like herself. Her look brought a
feeling of comfort and companionship to Roger's heart; and as, on
seeing that she was observed, she turned timidly to retire, he held
out his hand to her.
She approached and knelt down beside him and, taking his hand,
pressed it to her forehead. She was a girl of some fourteen years
old, already, according to Mexican ideas, a woman.
"What is your name?" Roger asked.
The girl looked at him wonderingly, but shook her head. Roger
thought a moment, and then touched himself on the breast.
"Roger," he said.
He repeated the word several times. Then he touched her lips and
repeated "Roger," and, seeing what was expected, she repeated the
word in a soft voice.
He nodded again, touched himself and said "Roger," and then touched
her. She now saw what he meant. It was his own name he had spoken,
and he now asked for hers.
"Malinche," she said, in her soft Indian voice.
"Malinche," he repeated, "you are a kind-hearted girl. I can see
that, Malinche; and I hope we shall understand each other better,
one of these days. I suppose you are a servant or a slave, and are
not in a much better condition than myself. Now you had better go,
and sleep."
He patted her on the shoulder, pointed to the door by which she had
entered, closed his eyes as if in sleep, and then said, "Good
night, Malinche."
The girl uttered some words he did not understand; but as they
ended with Roger, and with a nod of her head she stole silently
away, he supposed that it was something equivalent to his own
"Goodnight."
Greatly comforted by this little incident, he rolled up one of the
rugs as a pillow, laid his head upon it, and was almost
instantaneously asleep. He woke with a feeling of surprise. The
events of the previous day seemed to him but a dream, and he looked
round, expecting to see the bulkhead of the little cabin he had
occupied, on board the Swan. But the first glance assured him of
the reality of the dream, and that he was alone, among a strange
people.
He sprang at once to his feet, pulled aside a cloth that hung
before an opening that served as a window, and let the rays of the
sun stream in.
"I want some water, old dame," he said, in a loud voice.
The old woman at once entered. Roger made signs, by rubbing his
hands together, and passing them over his face and head, that he
wanted water. This the old woman brought, in a basin formed of the
half of an immense gourd, and a soft cotton cloth with which to dry
himself. Then she brought in a small pot, filled with something
which looked to him like fat, but which he afterwards found was
extracted from a vegetable, and put it down by the side of the
water.
"I suppose that this is some sort of soap," Roger said to himself,
and found on trial, to his great satisfaction, that it made an
excellent lather.
After a good wash he felt greatly refreshed, and now attired
himself completely in Mexican costume, a pile of garments of all
sorts having been placed in one corner of the room. When he had
finished the two girls entered, with a tray containing cocoa,
fruits, and bread. He was about to address Malinche by her name;
but the girl kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, and it struck him
that she did not wish her late visit to him to be known, as it
might bring upon her a scolding from the old woman; whose voice he
had more than once heard, on the previous afternoon, raised in
shrill anger.
He therefore began afresh, first naming himself, and then touching
Malinche's companion.
She did not at first understand, but Malinche said something in a
low tone, and she then replied, "Nishka."
Roger repeated the name, and then touched Malinche, who at once
gave her name.
He next pointed to the contents of the bowl, and the girls replied
together, "Coca."
Roger repeated the word several times, and then, in the same
manner, learned the native names of the cakes and fruit.
The old woman, hearing the voices, now came into the room. The
girls spoke eagerly to her in their language, and when Roger
touched her, she at once answered, "Quizmoa."
"That is pretty well, for a first lesson," Roger said. "Now I will
eat my breakfast. I suppose that, if anyone in this place did not
have a stare at me yesterday, they will be coming today."
Visitors, indeed, soon began to arrive; and it was more than a week
before the curiosity of the crowd was at all satisfied. But even
this did not bring what Roger considered a terrible annoyance to an
end; for the news had spread rapidly, through all the country
round, of the strange white being who had come to Tabasco, and
parties of visitors kept on arriving, some of them from a great
distance.
Roger, however, had made a good use of his tongue. He kept one or
other of the girls always near him, and by touching the articles
brought to him as presents, the garments and arms of his visitors,
and the various objects in his room, he soon learned their names.
Almost every day the chief sent for him, for a talk; but as neither
party could understand the other, these conversations generally
ended by a sudden loss of temper, on the part of the cazique, at
being unable to obtain the information he required as to the origin
of his visitor, and the object with which he had come to his
country.
Having acquired a large number of the names of objects, Roger, for
a time, came to a standstill. Then it struck him that by listening
to what the old woman said to the girls, and by watching what they
did, he might make a step farther.
In this way he soon learned "bring me," "fetch me," and other
verbs. When the old woman was present, the two girls were silent
and shy; but as Quizmoa was fond of gossiping, and so was greatly
in request among the neighbors, who desired to learn something of
the habits of the white man, she was often out; and the girls were
then ready to talk as much as Roger wished. For a time it seemed to
him that he was making no progress whatever with the language and,
at the end of the first month, began almost to despair of ever
being able to converse in it; although by this time he had learned
the name of almost every object. Then he found that, perhaps as
much from their gestures as from their words, he began to
understand the girls; and in another month was able to make himself
understood, in turn. After this his progress was extremely rapid.
As soon as Malinche learned, from him, that he belonged to a great
nation of white people, living far away across the sea, and that he
had been wrecked in a ship upon the coast, she warned him against
telling these things to the chief.
"They hold you in high honor," she said, "because they think that
you have come down from the sky, and might do them grievous harm if
they displeased you. But if they knew that you were a man like
themselves, cast by chance upon their shores, they would perhaps
make you a slave, or might put you to death in one of the temples.
Therefore, on this subject be always silent. When the chief asks
you questions, shake your head, and say that these things cannot be
spoken of, and that it might bring down the anger of the gods, were
their secret told."
The advice seemed good to Roger, and he followed it. Now that he
was able to talk in his language, the chief soon plied him with
questions as to whence he had come. But Roger always shook his head
when the subject was approached, and said:
"It is not good to talk of these things. Evil might come to the
land. I am here, and that is enough. I will tell you many things
about other people, who live far over the sea, and who are very
great and powerful. When they go out they sit upon great animals,
which carry them easily, at a speed much exceeding that at which a
man can run. They live in lofty dwellings and, when they go to war,
are covered with an armor, made of a metal so strong that arrows
would not pierce it nor swords cut it. They traverse the sea in
floating castles; and when they want to convey their thought to
others, many days' journey away, they make marks upon a thin white
stuff they call paper, and send it by a messenger, and these marks
tell him who receives it what the writer's thoughts are, just the
same as if he had spoken in their ears."
The hearing of such wonders as these reconciled the chief to his
disappointment at not learning more about his visitor. The knife
Roger had given him was a never-ending source of wonder to the
cazique, and those whom he permitted to inspect it. Gold and silver
and copper they knew, and also tin, which they used for hardening
the copper. But this new metal was altogether strange to them. It
enormously exceeded copper in strength and hardness. Its edge did
not, like that of their own weapons, blunt with usage, and they
could well understand that, if armor could be formed of it, it
would be altogether unpierceable.
For a time Roger was every day at the chief's house, and his
narration afforded astonishment and wonder to the audiences that
gathered round him. At the same time, Roger perceived that a
difference of opinion existed, among the principal men, concerning
him. Some believed, as at first, in his supernatural origin, and
credited all that he told them; while others were of opinion that
he was a man, like themselves, only of different color, and that
these tales were simply inventions, designed to add to his
importance.
The fact that month after month passed without his exhibiting any
supernatural powers, or reproducing, in any way, the wonders of
which he told them, added gradually to the strength of the party
hostile to him. Why should this god, if he were a god, have come to
dwell at Tabasco only to learn the language, and behave as an
ordinary man? He had been kindly received--why did he not bestow
benefits in return? Were the fields more fruitful? Had any
extraordinary prosperity fallen upon the people since his arrival
among them? Had he taught them any of the arts of those people of
whom he spoke? The gods always bestowed benefits upon those among
whom they dwelt. He did not ever pay reverence to their gods, nor
had he entered a temple to worship or sacrifice. How then could he
be a god?
Gradually this opinion gained strength, and Roger perceived that
his popularity was decreasing. No longer were daily presents sent
in by the inhabitants of Tabasco. No longer did they prostrate
themselves, when he walked in the streets. His stories were
received with open expressions of doubt and derision, and he saw
that, ere long, some great change would take place in his
condition.
One morning, to his surprise, the chief with six men entered his
chamber, and ordered him to come out and accompany them, instantly.
Much surprised at the order, Roger at once went out.
"You must go away for a time," the cazique said; "but you shall
return, before long."
His guard conducted him eight or ten miles into the interior, and
established him in a hut, situated at a distance from any other
dwelling. Three of them, by turns, kept watch night and day over
him, refusing to answer any questions as to the cause of this
singular conduct. Beyond being kept a prisoner he had nothing to
complain of, being well fed and treated with all courtesy.
A fortnight later he was taken back to Tabasco, as suddenly as he
had left it. When he arrived there, he learned the reason of his
being carried inland. A great floating castle, filled with white
men, had arrived at the mouth of the river; and had opened a trade
with the natives, exchanging glass beads, looking glasses, and
trinkets, for gold ornaments and articles of Mexican workmanship.
Their leader, he heard, was called Grijalva. The cazique had been
afraid that, if Roger had heard that other white men were in the
river, he would make an effort to join them; or if they heard that
a man of their color was in the town, they would insist upon his
being handed over to them. He had therefore hurried him away
inland, and had issued the most stringent orders that none should,
by signs or otherwise, acquaint the newcomers that a white man was
in the town. A guard had been placed over the house in which Roger
had dwelt, and none of those within it had been allowed to go out,
while the strangers were in the river.
These had sailed away, the day before Roger was fetched back. He
was not altogether disappointed at having missed the strangers, who
were of course Spaniards; for he wanted, if possible, to see
something more of this beautiful country before he left; and he
was, moreover, more than doubtful as to the reception he should
meet with at the Spaniards' hands, when, by his ignorance of their
language, they discovered that he was a foreign intruder, in what
they considered their territory.