Departure.--Journey to Yalahao.--Stony Road.--Arrival at the Port.--The
Sea.--Appearance of the Village.--Bridge.--Springs.--Pirates.--Scarcity
of Ramon.--The Castillo.--Its Garrison.--Don Vicente Albino.--An
Incident.--Arrangements for a Voyage down the Coast.--Embarcation.--The
Canoa El Sol.--Objects of the Voyage.--Point Moscheto.--Point
Frances.--An Indian Fisherman.--Cape Catoche.--The first Landing-place
of the Spaniards.--Island of Contoy.--Sea-birds.--Island of
Mugeres.--Lafitte.--Harpooning a Turtle.--Different Kinds of
Turtle.--Island of Kancune.--Point of Nesuc.--Sharks.--Moschetoes.--Bay
of San Miguel.--Island of Cozumel.--Rancho established by the Pirate
Molas.--Don Vicente Albino.--Mr. George Fisher.--Piratical Aspect of
the Island.--A Well.--Plantation of Cotton.--Stroll along the Shore.
On Monday, the fourth of April we took leave of the warm-hearted cura,
and set out for our new point of destination, the port of Yalahao.
I am obliged to hurry over our journey to the coast. The road was
lonely and rugged, mostly a complete crust of stone, broken and sharp
pointed, which severely tried and almost wore out our horses. It was
desperately hot; we had no view except the narrow path before us, and
we stumbled along, wondering that such a stony surface could support
such a teeming vegetation.
In the afternoon of the third day we were approaching the port. When
within about a league of it, we came out upon a low, swampy plain, with
a grove of cocoanut trees at a long distance before us, the only
objects rising above the level surface, indicating, and, at the same
time, hiding, the port of Yalahao. The road lay over a causeway, then
wet and slippery, with numerous holes, and sometimes completely
overflowed. On each side was a sort of creek, and in the plain were
large pools of water. With a satisfaction perhaps greater than we had
experienced in our whole journey, we reached the port, and, after a
long absence, came down once more upon the shore of the sea.
The village was a long, straggling street of huts, elevated a few feet
above the washing of the waves. In passing along it, for the first time
in the country we came to a bridge crossing a brook, with a fine stream
of running water in sight on the left. Our horses seemed as much
astonished as ourselves, and we had great difficulty in getting them
over the bridge. On the shore was another spring bubbling within reach
of the waves.
We rode on to the house of Don Juan Bautista, to whom we had a letter
from the cura of Chemax, but he had gone to his rancho. His house and
one other were the only two in the place built of stone, and the
materials had been obtained from the ruins of Zuza, standing on his
rancho, two leagues distant on the coast.
We returned through the village to a house belonging to our friend the
cura, better than any except the two stone houses, and in situation
finer than these. It stood on the very edge of the bank, so near the
sea that the waves had undermined part of the long piazza in front; but
the interior was in good condition, and a woman tenant in possession.
We were about negotiating with her for the occupation of a part; but
wherever we went we seemed to be the terror of the sex, and before we
had fairly made a beginning, she abandoned the house and left us in
quiet possession. In an hour we were completely domesticated, and
toward evening we sat in the doorway and looked out upon the sea. The
waves were rolling almost to our door, and Doctor Cabot found a new
field opened to him in flocks of large sea-fowl strutting along the
shore and screaming over our heads.
[Engraving 56: Port of Yalahao]
The plate opposite represents this place as taken from the shore. Our
house appears in the left corner, and at a distance down the coast is
seen an ancient mound. Cut off, to a great extent, from communication
with the interior, or, at least, connected with it only by a long and
toilsome road, its low huts buried among the cocoanut trees, but few
people moving about it, canoas in the offing, and a cannon half buried
on the shore, it seemed, what it was notorious for having been, the
haunt of pirates in days gone by.
In our journey to the coast we had entered a region of novel and
exciting interest. On the road we had heard of quondam pirates, having
small sugar ranchos, and enjoying reputations but little the worse for
wear, in fact, much respected, and looked upon with a sort of
compassion, as men who had been unfortunate and broken up in business.
We had now reached the focus of their operations.
It is not many years since the coast of Cuba and the adjacent continent
were infested by bands of desperadoes, the common enemies of mankind,
and doomed to be hung and shot without trial, wherever caught. Tales of
piracies and murders which make the blood run cold are fresh in the
remembrance of many. The sailor still repeats or listens to them with
shuddering interest, and in those times of rapine and blood, this port
was notorious as a rendezvous for these robbers of the sea.
It commanded a view of many leagues, and of all vessels passing between
Cuba and the Spanish Main. A long, low flat extended many miles out; if
the vessel was armed, and of superior force, the pirates pulled back
into shoal water, and if pursued by boats, scattered and saved
themselves in the interior. The plunder brought ashore was spent in
gaming and revelry. Doubloons, as one of the inhabitants told us, were
then as plentiful as medios are now. The prodigality of the pirates
brought many people to the place, who, profiting by their ill-gotten
gains, became identified with them, and pirate law prevailed.
Immediately on our arrival we had visiters, some of whom were silent
and uncommunicative upon the historical associations of the place; and
when they went away their good-natured neighbours spoke of them as los
pobres, who had good reason to be silent. All spoke with kindness and
good feeling of the leaders, and particularly of one Don Juan, the
captain, a dashing, generous fellow, whose death was a great public
loss. Individuals were named, then living in the place, and the
principal men, who had been notoriously pirates; one had been several
years in prison and under sentence of death, and a canoa was pointed
out, lying in front of our door, which had been often used in pirate
service.
Our house had been the headquarters of the bucaniers. It was the house
of Molas, to whose unhappy end I have before referred. He had been sent
by the government as commandant to put down these pirates, but, as it
was said, entered into collusion with them, received their plunder, and
conveyed it to the interior. At night they had revelled together in
this house. It was so far from the capital that tidings of his
misdoings were slow of transmission thither, and, when they were
received, he persuaded the government that these reports proceeded from
the malice of his enemies. At length, for his own security, he found it
necessary to proceed against the pirates; he knew all their haunts,
came upon them by stealth, and killed or drove away the whole band. Don
Juan, the captain, was brought in wounded, and placed at night in a
room partitioned off at the end of our sala. Molas feared that, if
carried up to Merida, Don Juan would betray him, and in the morning the
latter was found dead. It was more than whispered that he died by the
hand of Molas. It is proper to add, what we heard afterward, that these
stories were false, and that Molas was the victim of a malicious and
iniquitous persecution. I should add, too, that the character of this
place has improved. Broken up as a pirates' haunt it became the abode
of smugglers, whose business being now comparatively unprofitable, they
combine with it the embarking of sugar and other products of ranchos
along the coast.
We found one great deficiency at this place: there was no ramon for the
horses. At night we turned them loose in the village; but the barren
plain furnished them no grazing, and they returned to the house. Early
in the morning we despatched Dimas to a ramon tree two leagues distant,
that being the nearest point at which any could be procured; and in the
mean time I set about searching for a canoa, and succeeded in engaging
one, but not of the best class, and the patron and sailors could not be
ready in less than two or three days.
This over, we had nothing farther to do in Yalahao. I rambled for a
little while in the Castillo, a low fortress, with twelve embrazures,
built for the suppression of piracy, but the garrison of which, from
all accounts, connected themselves somewhat closely with the pirates.
It was now garrisoned by a little Meztizo tailor, who had run away from
Sisal with his wife to avoid being taken for a soldier. The meekest
possible tenants of a fort, they paid no rent, and seemed perfectly
happy.
The next morning, when we opened our door, we saw a sloop lying at
anchor, which we soon understood was the balandra of Don Vicente
Albino. Don Vicente was already on shore, and, before we had time to
make many inquiries, he called upon us. We had heard of him before, but
never expected to see him in person, for our accounts were that he had
established a rancho on the island of Cozumel, and had been murdered by
his Indians. The first part of the story was true, but Don Vicente
himself assured us that the last was not, though he told us that he had
had a narrow escape, and showed us a machete cut in the arm as a token.
Don Vicente was the person of all others whom we wished to see, as he
was the only one who could give us any information about the island of
Cozumel. While he was with us another vessel came in sight, standing in
toward the shore; which, when still two leagues distant, lowered a
boat, and then stood off again. Don Vicente recognised her as a
Yucatecan brig of war. The commandant came ashore; we had already
invited Don Vicente to dine with us, and feeling it incumbent upon us
to entertain visiters of distinction, I invited the commandant to join
us. This was a rather bold attempt, as we had but one spare plate,
knife, and fork, but we had all been in worse straits and were
accommodating.
Amid the excitement in the port caused by the arrival of these
strangers, the inhabitants were not suffered to forget us. A large
sea-bird, prepared by Doctor Cabot with arsenic, and exposed to the sun
to dry, had been carried off and eaten by a hog, and the report got
abroad that a hog sold that day had died from eating the bird. This
created somewhat of a panic, and at night all who had partaken of the
suspicious meat were known throughout the port. A scientific
exposition, that even if the hog had died from eating the bird, it did
not follow that those would die who had eaten of the hog, was by no
means satisfactory.
The next day we completed laying in our stock of provisions, to wit,
chocolate, sweetened bread, beef and pork in strings, two turtles,
three bushels of corn, and implements for making tortillas. We had one
other important arrangement to make, which was the disposition of our
horses; and, according to our previous plan, to avoid the long journey
back through the interior we determined to send Dimas with them to
Valladolid, and thence to the port of Silan, a journey of two hundred
and fifty miles, while we should, on our return, continue down the
coast with the canoa, and meet him there.
At nine o'clock we were taken off, one at a time, in a small dug-out,
and put on board our canoa. We had no leave-takings. The only persons
who took any interest in our movements were Dimas, who wanted to go
with us, the woman whom we had dispossessed of the house, and the agent
of the canoa, who had no desire to see us again.
Our canoa was known in the port of Yalahao by the name of El Sol, or
the Sun. It was thirty-five feet long and six feet wide, at the top,
but curving toward the bottom. It carried two large sails, with the
peaks held up by heavy poles secured at the masts; had a space of eight
or ten feet clear in the stern, and all the rest was filled with
luggage, provisions, and water-casks. We had not been on board till the
moment of embarcation, and prospects seemed rather unpromising for a
month's cruise. There was no wind; the sails were flapping against
the mast; the sun beat down upon us and we had no mat or awning of
any kind, although the agent had promised one. Our captain was a
middle-aged Mestizo, a fisherman, hired for the occasion.
Under these circumstances we set out on our voyage. It was one which we
had determined upon before leaving home, and to which we had always
looked forward with interest; and the precise object we had in view
was, in following the track of the Spaniards along this coast, to
discover vestiges or remains of the great buildings of lime and stone
which, according to the historical accounts, surprised and astonished
them.
At eleven o'clock the breeze set in. At twelve the patron asked if he
should ran ashore for us to dine, and at half past one the breeze was
so strong against as that we were obliged to come to anchor under the
lee of Point Moscheto. This was an island about two leagues distant
from Yalahao, with a projecting point, which we had to double. We could
have walked round it in an hour, but, after the experience of a few
hours' navigation in El Sol, it seemed to stand out like Cape Horn. Our
bark had no keel, and could do nothing against the wind. We went ashore
on a barren, sandy beach, bathed, shot, and picked up shells. Toward
evening the wind fell, and we crawled round the point, when we came to
anchor again, for it was now dark, and El Sol could not travel at
night. The patron made all secure; we had a big stone for anchor, and
rode in water knee deep. In due time we turned in for sleep; and it
might have been consoling to distant friends to know that, exposed as
we were on this desolate coast, we made so tight a fit in the canoa
that if the bottom had fallen out we could hardly have gone through.
The next morning, with the rising of her great namesake, El Sol was
under way. The prevalent wind along the coast was southeast, adverse
for us; but, as the captain said, on our return it would be in our
favour. At one o'clock another bold point intercepted us. It was a
great object to get round it, for the wind would then be fair. El Sol
made a vigorous effort, but by this time the breeze had become strong,
and we were fain to come to anchor under the lee of Point Frances,
which, was on the same island with Point Moscheto. The island itself
has no name, and is a mere sand-bank covered with scrub bushes, having
a passage between it and the mainland, navigable for small canoas. Our
anchorage ground was in front of the rancho of a fisherman, the only
habitation on the island, built like an Indian's wigwam, thatched with
palm leaves close down to the ground, and having both ends open, giving
free passage to a current of air, so that while without a step from the
door, the heat was burning, within there were coolness and comfort. The
fisherman was swinging in his hammock, and a handsome Indian boy was
making tortillas, the two presenting a fine picture of youth and
vigorous old age. The former, as he told us, was sixty-five years old,
tall and erect, with his face burned black, deep seams on his forehead,
but without a single gray hair or other symptom of decay. He had been
three months living on this desolate island, and called it amusing
himself. Our skipper said he was the best fisherman from Yalahao, that
he always went alone, and always made more than the rest but in a week
on shore his money was all gone. He had no milpa, and said that with
his canoa, and the sea, and the whole coast as a building spot for a
rancho, he was independent of all the world. The fishing on this coast
was for turtle; on one side of the hut were jars of turtle oil, and
outside, rather too near when the wind was in certain quarters, were
the skeletons of turtles from which he had extracted it.
Toward evening the breeze again died away, we slowly got round the
point, and at half past eight came to anchor, having made six leagues
on our voyage. Our captain told us that this desolate point was Cape
Catoche, the memorable spot on the Continent of America at which the
Spaniards first landed, and approaching which, says Bernal Dias, we saw
at the distance of two leagues a large town, which, from its size, it
exceeding any town in Cuba, we named Grand Cairo. The Spaniards set out
for it, and passing by some thick woods were attacked by Indians in
ambuscade. Near the place of this ambuscade, he adds, were three
buildings of lime and stone, wherein were idols of clay, with diabolical
countenances, &c.
Navigators and geographers, however, have assigned different localities
to this memorable point, and its true position is, perhaps, uncertain.
At daylight we were again under way, and soon were opposite Boca Nueva,
being the entrance to a passage between the island and the main, better
known to the fishermen as the Boca de Iglesia from the ruins of a
church visible at a great distance. This church was one of the objects
I intended to visit; and one reason for preferring the canoa, when we
had the chance of Don Vicente's sloop, was that we might do so; but our
captain told us that even with our draught of water we could not
approach nearer than a league; that a long muddy flat intervened; and
that we could not reach the shore by wading. He said, too what we had
heard from others, and believed to be the case, that the church was
certainly Spanish, and stood among the ruins of a Spanish town
destroyed by the bucaniers, or, in his own words, by the English
pirates. The wind was ahead, but we could make a good stretch from the
coast, and, anxious to lose no advantage, we made sail for the island
of Contoy. It was dark when we came to anchor, and we were already
distressed for water. Our casks were impregnated with the flavour of
agua ardiente, and the water was sickening. Through the darkness we saw
the outline of a desolate rancho. Our men went ashore, and, moving
round it with torches, made a line piratical appearance; but they found
no water.
Before daylight we were roused by the screaming of sea-birds; in the
gray of the morning, the island seemed covered with a moving canopy,
and the air was noisy with their clamour; but, unfortunately for Doctor
Cabot, we had a fine breeze, and he had no opportunity of getting at
their nests. The coast was wild and rugged, indented occasionally by
small picturesque bays. Below the point of the island Doctor Cabot shot
two pelicans, and getting the canoa about to take them on board was
like man[oe]uvring a seventy-four gun-ship.
At eleven o'clock we reached the island of Mugeres, notorious in that
region as the resort of Lafitte the pirate. Monsieur Lafitta, as our
skipper called him, bore a good character in these parts; he was always
good to the fishermen, and paid them well for all he took from them. At
a short distance beyond the point we passed a small bay, in which he
moored his little navy. The month was narrow, and protected by ledges
of broken rocks, on which, as the patron told us, he had batteries
constantly manned. On the farther point of the island we had a distant
view of one of those stone buildings which were our inducement to this
voyage along the coast. While looking at it from the prow of the canoa,
with the patron by my side, he broke from me, seized a harpoon, and
pointing with it to indicate the direction to the helmsman, we came
silently upon a large turtle, apparently asleep, which must have been
somewhat surprised on waking up with three or four inches of cold steel
in his back. The patron and sailors looked upon him as upon a bag of
dollars snatched from the deep. There are three kinds of turtles which
inhabit these seas; the Cahuamo, the eggs of which serve for food, and
which is useful besides only for its oil; the Tortuga, of which the
meat as well as the eggs is eaten, which also produces oil, and of
which the shell is worth two reales the pound; and the Kare, of which
the shell is worth ten dollars a pound. It was one of this kind, being
the rarest, that had crossed our path. I would not make any man
unhappy, but the fishermen say that the turtle which forms the delight
of the gourmand is of the commonest kind, not worth killing for the
sake of the shell, and therefore sent away alive. The kare he has never
tasted. It is killed for the sake of the shell, and eaten by the
luxurious fishermen on the spot. I immediately negotiated with the
patron for the purchase of the shell. The outer scales of the back,
eight in number, are all that is valuable. Their weight he estimated at
four pounds, and the price in Campeachy he said was ten dollars a
pound, but he was an honest fellow, and let me have it at two pounds
and a half, for eight dollars a pound; and I had the satisfaction of
learning afterward that I had not paid more than twice as much as it
was worth.
In the afternoon we steered for the mainland, passing the island of
Kancune, a barren strip of land, with sand hills and stone buildings
visible upon it. The whole of this coast is lined with reefs of rocks,
having narrow passages which enable a canoa to enter and find shelter;
but it is dangerous to attempt the passage at night. We had a good
wind, but as the next harbour was at some distance, the patron came to
anchor at about four o'clock under the lee of the point of Nesuc.
Immediately we went ashore in search of water, but found only a dirty
pool, in which the water was so salt that we could scarcely drink it,
but still it was an agreeable change from that we had on board.
We had time for a bath, and while preparing to take it saw two large
sharks moving along the shore in water four or five feet deep, and so
clear that their ugly eyes were visible. We hesitated, but, from the
heat and confinement of the canoa, we were in real need; and stationing
Albino on the prow to keep a look out, we accomplished our purpose.
Afterward we rambled along the shore to pick up shells; but toward dark
we were all hurrying back, flying before the natives, swarms of
moschetoes, which pursued us with the same bloodthirsty spirit that
animated the Indians along this coast when they pursued the Spaniards.
We heaved upon our cable, hauled up our big stone, and dropped off to
distance from the shore, with horrible apprehensions for the night,
but, fortunately, we escaped.
At daylight the next morning we were again under way, and, with a
strong and favourable wind, steered from the coast for the island of
Cozumel. Very soon, in the comparatively open sea, we felt the
discomfort and even insecurity of our little vessel. The waves broke
over us, wetting our luggage and ourselves, and interfering materially
with Bernaldo's cooking. At about four o'clock in the afternoon we were
upon the coast of Cozumel, and here for the first time we made a
discovery, at the moment sufficiently annoying, viz., that our patron
was not familiar with the coast of this island; it was bound with
reefs; there were only certain places where it was practicable to run
in, and he was afraid to make the attempt.
Our plan was to disembark at the rancho of Don Vicente Albino, and the
patron did not know where it was. It was too late to look for it, and,
sailing along till he saw a passage among the reefs, he laid the old
canoa into it, and then threw out the big stone, but at some distance
from the shore. On the outer reef was the wreck of a brig; her naked
ribs were above the water, and the fate of her mariners no one knew.
The next morning, after some hours spent in groping about, we
discovered the rancho of Don Vicente, distant about three miles. Here
we encountered a strong current of perhaps four miles an hour; and,
taking the wind close hauled, in a little while found that El Sol was
not likely to have a very brilliant career that day. At length we went
close in, furled sails, and betook ourselves to poles, by means of
which, after two hours' hard work, we reached the little Bay of San
Miguel, on which stood the rancho of Don Vicente. The clearing around
it was the only one on the island, all the rest being thick woods. This
bay had a sandy beach extending some distance to a rocky point, but
even here the water was discoloured by sunken reefs. In the case of a
norther it was an unsafe anchorage ground; El Sol would be driven upon
the rocks, and the captain wished to leave us on shore, and go in
search of a better harbour; but to this we objected, and for the
present directed him to run her up close; when, standing upon the bow,
and leaping with our setting poles, we landed upon the desolate island
of Cozumel.
Above the line of the shore was a fine table of land, on which were
several huts, built of poles, and thatched with palm leaves. One was
large and commodious, divided into apartments, and contained rude
benches and tables, as if prepared for our immediate occupation. Back
of the house was an enclosure for a garden, overgrown, but with any
quantity of tomatoes, ripe, wasting, and begging to be put into a
turtle soup then in preparation on board the canoa.
This rancho was established by the pirate Molas, who, escaping from
death in Merida, made his way hither. He succeeded in getting to him
his wife and children and a few Indians, and for several years nothing
was heard of him. In the mean time he laid the keel of a sloop,
finished it with his own hands, carried it to Belize, and sold it; new
subjects of excitement grew up, and, being in a measure forgotten, he
again ventured to the mainland, and left the island to its solitude.
After him Don Vicente Albino undertook to establish upon it a rancho
for the cultivation of cotton, which was broken up by the mutiny of his
Indians and an attempt to murder him. When we met him at Yalahao he had
just returned from his last visit, carrying away his property, and
leaving five dogs tenants of the island. After him came a stranger
occupant than either, being no other than our old friend Mr. George
Fisher, that "citizen of the world" introduced to the reader in the
early part of these pages, who, since our separation in Merida, had
consummated the history of his wandering life by becoming the purchaser
of six leagues, or eighteen miles, of the island, had visited it
himself with surveyors, set up his crosses along the shore, and was
about undertaking a grand enterprise, that was to make the lonely
island of Cozumel known to the commercial world.
[Engraving 57: Island of Cozumel]
Our act of taking possession was unusually exciting. It was an immense
relief to escape from the confinement of the canoa. The situation
commanded a view of the sea, and, barely distinguishable, in the
distance was the coast of Yucatan. On the bank were large forest trees
which had been spared in the clearing, and orange and cocoanut trees
planted by Molas. The place had a sort of piratical aspect. In the hut
were doors and green blinds from the cabin of some unlucky vessel, and
reeving blocks, tar buckets, halliards, drinking gourds, fragments of
rope, fishing nets, and two old hatches were scattered on the ground.
Above all, the first object we discovered, which would have given a
charm to a barren sand bank, was a well of pure and abundant water,
which we fell upon at the moment of landing, and were almost like the
Spanish soldier in the expedition of Cordova, who drank till he swelled
and died. And, besides the relief of a pressing want, this well had a
higher interest, for it assured us that our visit was not bootless. We
saw in it, at the first glance, the work of the same builders with
whose labours on the mainland we were now so familiar, being, like the
subterranean chambers at Uxmal, dome shaped, but larger both at the
mouth and in the interior.
This well was shaded by a large cocoanut tree. We hauled up under it
one of the hatches, and, sitting around it on blocks, had served up the
turtle which had been accomplishing its destiny on board the canoa.
With our guns resting against the trees, long beards, and canoa
costume, we were, perhaps, as piratical-seeming a trio as ever scuttled
a ship at sea. In the afternoon we walked over the clearing, which was
covered with a fine plantation of cotton, worth, as the patron said,
several hundred dollars, with the pods open and blowing away,
indicating that the rancho had been abandoned in haste, without regard
to the preservation of property. Toward evening we strolled for a great
distance along the shore, picking up shells, and at night we had a
luxurious swing in our hammocks.