Search for the Canoa.--An Iron-bound Coast.--A wild Opening.--A
sheltered Cove.--The Canoa found.--The Account of the Patron.--A Man
overboard.--Return.--Sea-shells.--Departure from Cozumel.--Coast
of Yucatan.--Square Buildings.--First Sight of the Castillo of
Tuloom.--Rancho of Tancah.--Molas.--His two Sons.--Visit to the Ruins
of Tuloom.--Buildings seen on the Way.--Magnificent Scenery.--The
Castillo.--Front View.--Grand Staircase.--Columns.--Corridors.--The Red
Hand.--The Wings of the Castillo, consisting of two Ranges.--Devices in
Stucco.--Flat Roofs.--Back View of the Castillo.--A Storm.--Sudden
Change of Feeling.--Ruined Buildings.--Square Terrace.--Picturesque
Sight.--Fragments of Tablets.--Isolated Building.--Curious
Figure.--Paintings.--Discovery of the City Wall.--Its good
Preservation.--Gateways.--Watchtowers.--Buildings.--Ceilings
constructed on a new Principle.--Onslaught of Moschetoes.
Very early in the morning we were moving. The rain had ceased, but the
wind was still high, and the waves exhibited its power. Albino and
Bernaldo were even more interested in the missing canoa than we, for
tea and coffee were nothing to them, and our supply of biscuit being
exhausted at breakfast, they had literally nothing to eat. At daylight
Bernaldo set off along the shore, and soon after I followed with
Albino. Passing round the point which had cut off our view of the
canoa, we came upon what might well be called an iron-bound coast,
being a table of rock rising but a few feet above the level of the sea,
washed by every storm, until it had become porous and full of holes,
and the edges stuck up like points of rusted iron. The waves were still
dashing over them, forming great whirlpools in the hollow spaces, and
suggesting a frightful picture of the fate of any unhappy voyagers who
might have been thrown upon them; and the rocks were strewed with
staves and planks from some wrecked vessel. After walking two hours I
became satisfied that the canoa must have taken the brunt of the storm,
and my apprehensions were seriously excited when I saw, at a long
distance beyond, Bernaldo, whom I at first thought I had overtaken, but
discovered that he had a small pyramid on his head, consisting of
cooking vessel and provisions. He had met one of the sailors coming to
our relief, from whom he had taken his burden, and was then returning.
We went on, and after three hours' painful walking reached the cove. It
was a wild, abrupt, and narrow opening between the rocks, about fifty
feet wide, with perpendicular sides, and leading into a sheltered
basin, which, while the sea outside was raging, was calm and quiet as a
pond. At the head of this lay the canoa, which came down and took me on
board.
From the simple and unaffected account of the patron, his entry into
the cove must have been sublime. Night had overtaken him, and he
supposed that he had run by, when a flash of lightning disclosed the
narrow passage, and he turned the old canoa short into the very middle
of it. In passing through he struck upon a sunken rock, lost one man
overboard, caught him by the light of another flash, and in a moment
was in still water. The cove was imbosomed among noble trees. The water
was twenty feet deep, and so clear that the bottom was distinctly
visible; and from one end ran a creek, which the patron said was
navigable for canoes into the centre of the island, where it expanded
into a lake. Sails, luggage, Doctor Cabot's birds, and my copy of
Cogolludo, were spread out to dry, and, after dining upon turtles' eggs
laid a few minutes on the coals, I set out on my return, gathering on
the way an unusual harvest of shells. Ever since we came upon the coast
our idle moments had been employed in this pleasant occupation, but
nowhere with the same success as on this island. Regularly, after
stripping the shore, we returned in a few hours, and found others
thrown up, pure and fresh from the sea. I was seldom more fatigued than
when I reached the hut.
On the third day, at twelve o'clock, the canoa again hove in sight,
working her way round the point, and in a short time was at her old
anchorage ground. The wind was still so high that the patron was afraid
to remain; we filled our water casks, in an hour were on board, and
left, solitary as we found it, the once populous island of Cozumel. A
hawk mourning over its mate, which we carried away, was the only living
thing that looked upon our departure; but there was no place in our
whole journey that we left with more regret.
From the point at which we left the island, the opposite coast of
Yucatan was dimly visible, and I would remark, that, from our own
observation and from information given to us by others, it is the only
point from which the opposite coast can be seen at all, whence it is a
conclusion almost unquestionable that it was from this same point
Grijalva steered for Yucatan. The wind was high, the sea rough, and a
strong current was sweeping us down toward the point of Cape Catoche.
About an hour before dark we got across the current, and stood up along
the coast, passing three low, square buildings, apparently in a good
state of preservation, but the sea was so rough that we could not land
to examine them. The account of the expedition of Grijalva says, "After
leaving the island of Cozumel we saw three large villages, separated
two miles from each other. They contained a great number of stone
houses, with high towers, and covered with straw." This _must_ have
been the very part of the coast where these villages were seen. The
whole is now covered with forest, but it is not unreasonable to suppose
that the stone buildings visible on the shore are tokens of the buried
towns in the interior. We ran on till after dark, and came to anchor
under a projecting point, behind a reef of rocks. In the edge of the
water was a square enclosure for turtle and on the shore a deserted
fisherman's hut.
At daylight we were again under way. We passed three more square
buildings; but as the coast was rocky we could not land without
endangering the safety of our precious canoa; and far off, on a high
cliff, stood the Castillo of Tuloom, the extreme point at which we were
aiming. At twelve o'clock we turned a point, and came upon a long,
sandy beach, forming a bay, at the head of which was a small collection
of huts, composing the rancho of Tancar. The entrance was difficult,
being hemmed in by sunken reefs and rocks. Two women were standing in
the doorway of one of the huts, except the old fisherman the only
persons we had seen along this desolate coast.
It was this point which we expected to reach by land direct from
Chemax. The reader will see the circuit it has cost us to make it, but
the first glance satisfied us of our good fortune in not going to it
direct, for we saw the frame of the sloop we had heard of still on the
stocks, which probably is not yet finished. We should not have been
able to get a canoa, and should have been obliged to return by the same
road. The moment the stone was thrown out we were in the water, wading
ashore. The sun was intensely hot, and the sand burning. In front of
the principal hut, beside the sloop, was a thatched arbour to protect
the carpenter who occasionally worked upon it. Near by was a ruined
hut, which we had cleared out, and for the third time took up our abode
in a habitation erected by Molas. On leaving the island of Cozumel it
was only to this desolate point on the coast that he dared venture. It
was a situation that again suited his proscribed life, and having no
fear of pursuit from the interior, his energy and industry did not
desert him. He again cultivated his milpa, and again laid the keel of a
sloop, being the same which we then saw unfinished. But, finding
himself growing old, in a measure forgotten and afflicted by illness,
he ventured to appear in the village of Chemax, on returning from
which, as before mentioned, with a single Indian, while yet eight
leagues from Tancar he died in the road; as our informant expressed it,
he died like a dog, without aid either human or divine. We had heard so
much of Molas, of his long succession of calamities, and of the heavy
retribution that had been poured upon his aged head, and we had seen so
much of his unbroken energy, that, in spite of the violence and crimes
imputed to him, our sympathies were excited; and having heard afterward
from other sources the opinion expressed strongly, that during these
long years of proscription he was the victim of an iniquitous and
unrelenting persecution, I draw a veil over his history. It was but a
year since he died, and his two sons were in possession of the rancho,
both young men, who paid us a visit soon after our arrival. When the
old man died the Indian left the body in the road, and came on to the
rancho, whence these young men went up and buried it on the spot.
Afterward they went again, dug it up, put it in a box, brought it to
the rancho, and embarked with it in a canoa for San Fernando, where
some of their kinsmen lived. On the way they were overtaken by a storm,
threw the body overboard, and, said our informant, that was the last of
poor old Molas. The elder son was said to have been implicated with his
father, and the curse seemed entailed upon him. He had lost entirely
the use of one eye, and the other rolled feebly and lustreless in a
watery orbit. Probably by this time he is perfectly blind.
Our first inquiries were upon the subject of ruins. A short path
through the woods leads to a milpa, in which are numerous remains of
ancient buildings standing on terraces, but all small and dilapidated.
These buildings once stood erect in full view from the sea, but now the
stranger sails along the coast unconscious that among the trees lie
shrouded the ruins of an aboriginal town.
In the afternoon we set out for the ruins of Tuloom, a league distant
on the coast, and with the Castillo on a high cliff in full sight. Our
road lay for a mile and a half along the shore. The beach was sandy,
and in some places so yielding that we sank above the ankles, and found
it a relief to take off our shoes and stockings, and wade in the edge
of the water. At the end of the beach was a high rocky promontory,
standing out into the sea, and cutting off all progress along the
shore. This we ascended, and continued along the cliff, which sloped
toward the sea, in some places forming a perpendicular wall, and on our
right rose great masses of rock, cutting off entirely the view of the
Castillo. In half an hour we came unexpectedly upon a low building,
apparently an adoratorio, or altar, climbing to the top of which, we
again saw the Castillo. Beyond the cliff became more rugged and barren,
reminding us of the witches' gathering-place in the Hartz Mountains, as
described in the Faust of Goethe; and, amid all its barrenness, from
the crevices of the rocks sprang a thick growth of scrubby wild palm
called tshike, covering the whole surface of the cliff. Toiling through
this, we reached another low building, from the top of which we again
saw El Castillo, but with a great chasm between, apparently cutting off
all hope of access. By this time it was late, and, afraid of being
overtaken by darkness on this wild range, we turned back. Night was
upon us when we again reached the shore. The sandy beach was now a
welcome relief, and at a late hour we again reached the hut, having
come to a rapid conclusion that a frequent repetition of this walk
would be neither pleasant nor profitable, and that, in order to get
through our work with the celerity we aimed at, it would be necessary
again to take up our abode among the ruins.
The next, morning we set out for that purpose, escorted by the younger
Molas, a fine lad of about twenty, who considered our arrival the
greatest incident that had ever occurred at Tancar, and before we
reached the end of the beach he wanted to go travelling with us.
Ascending the cliff, and passing beyond the two buildings we had seen
the day before, we descended from the rear of the last to the head of
the chasm which had seemed to cut us off from the principal object of
our visit; ascending again at the other end of the ravine, we entered a
gloomy forest, and, passing a building on the left, with "old walls"
visible in different places indistinctly through the trees, reached the
grand staircase of the Castillo. The steps, the platform of the
building, and the whole area in front were overgrown with trees, large
and principally ramon, which, with their deep green foliage and the
mysterious buildings around, presented an image of a grove sacred to
Druidical worship.
Our boatmen and Molas cut a path up the steps, and, carrying up their
loads, in an hour we were domesticated in the Castillo. We had
undertaken our long journey to this place in utter uncertainty as to
what we should meet with; impediments and difficulties had accumulated
upon us, but already we felt indemnified for all our labour. We were
amid the wildest scenery we had yet found in Yucatan; and, besides the
deep and exciting interest of the ruins themselves, we had around us
what we wanted at all the other places, the magnificence of nature.
Clearing away the platform in front, we looked over an immense forest;
walking around the moulding of the wall, we looked out upon the
boundless ocean, and deep in the clear water at the foot of the cliff
we saw gliding quietly by a great, fish eight or ten feet long.
[Engraving 59: Front View of the Castillo of Tuloom]
The plate opposite represents the front of the Castillo. A few of the
trees which grew around it appear in the engraving, and one is left
growing on the top of the lower range, with its gnarled roots binding
the front wall and obstructing the doorway, but no words and no drawing
could convey a true idea of the solemnity of its living shroud, or of
the impression made upon us when the ring of the axe first broke the
stillness that had so long prevailed around. The building, including
the wings, measures at its base one hundred feet in length. The grand
staircase is thirty feet wide, with twenty-four steps, and a
substantial balustrade on each side, still in good preservation, gives
it an unusually imposing character. In the doorway are two columns,
making three entrances, with square recesses above them, all of which
once contained ornaments, and in the centre one fragments of a statue
still remain. The interior is divided into two corridors, each
twenty-six feet long; the one in front is six feet six inches wide, and
had at each end a stone bench, or divan; and again on the walls we
found the mysterious prints of the red hand.[4]
A single doorway leads to the back corridor, which is nine feet wide,
and has a stone bench extending along the foot of the wall. On each
side of the doorway are stone rings, intended for the support of the
door, and in the back wall are oblong openings, which admit breezes
from the sea. Both apartments have the triangular-arched ceiling, and
both had a convenience and pleasantness of arrangement that suited us
well as tenants.
The wings are much lower than the principal building. Each consists of
two ranges, the lower standing on a low platform, from which are steps
leading to the upper. The latter consists of two chambers, of which the
one in front is twenty-four feet wide and twenty deep, having two
columns in the doorway, and two in the middle of the chamber
corresponding with those in the doorway. The centre columns were
ornamented with devices in stucco, one of which seemed a masked face,
and the other the head of a rabbit. The walls were entire, but the roof
had fallen; the rubbish on the floor was less massive than that formed
in other places by the remains of the triangular-arched roof, and of
different materials, and there were holes along the top of the wall, as
if beams had been laid in them, all which induced us to believe that
the roofs had been flat, and supported by wooden beams resting upon the
two columns in the centre. From this apartment a doorway three feet
wide, close to the wall of the principal building, leads to a chamber
twenty-four feet wide and nine feet deep, also roofless, and having the
same indications that the roof had been flat and supported by wooden
beams.
[Engraving 60: Back View of the Castillo]
The plate opposite represents the back or sea wall of the Castillo. It
rises on the brink of a high, broken, precipitous cliff, commanding a
magnificent ocean view, and a picturesque line of coast, being itself
visible from a great distance at sea. The wall is solid, and has no
doorways or entrances of any kind, nor even a platform around it. At
evening, when the work of the day was ended and our men returned to the
hut, we sat down on the moulding of the wall, and regretted that the
doorways of our lofty habitation had not opened upon the sea. Night,
however, wrought a great change in our feelings. An easterly storm came
on, and the rain beat heavily against the sea wall. We were obliged to
stop up the oblong openings, and congratulated ourselves upon the
wisdom of the ancient builders. The darkness, the howling of the winds,
the cracking of branches in the forest, and the dashing of angry waves
against the cliff, gave a romantic interest, almost a sublimity to our
occupation of this desolate building, but we were rather too hackneyed
travellers to enjoy it, and were much annoyed by mochetoes.
Our first day did not suffice to finish the clearing of the area in
front of the Castillo. Within this area were several small ruined
buildings, which seemed intended for altars. Opposite the foot of the
steps was a square terrace, with steps on all four of its sides, but
the platform had no structure of any kind upon it, and was overgrown
with trees, under the shade of which Mr. Catherwood set up his camera
to make his drawing; and, looking down upon him from the door of the
Castillo, nothing could be finer than his position, the picturesque
effect being greatly heightened by his manner of keeping one hand in
his pocket, to save it from the attacks of moschetoes, and by his
expedient of tying his pantaloons around his legs to keep ants and
other insects from running up.
Adjoining the lower room of the south wing were extensive remains, one
of which contained a chamber forty feet wide and nineteen deep, with
four columns that had probably supported a flat roof. In another, lying
on the ground, were the fragments of two tablets, of the same character
with those at Labphak.
[Engraving 61: An isolated Edifice]
On the north side, at the distance of about forty feet from the
Castillo, stands a small isolated building, a side view of which is
represented in the engraving opposite. It stands on a terrace, and has
a staircase eight feet wide with ten or twelve broken steps. The
platform is twenty-four feet front and eighteen deep. The building
contains a single room, having, like the Castillo, a triangular-arched
roof. Over the doorway is the same curious figure we saw at Sayi, with
the head down and the legs and arms spread out; and along the cornice
were other curious and peculiar ornaments. The doorway is very low.
Throughout the country at times we had heard the building of these
cities ascribed to corcubados, or hunchbacks, and the unusual lowness
of all the doorways, with the strangeness and desolation of all around,
almost gave colour to the most fanciful belief.
The interior of this building consisted of a single chamber, twelve
feet by seven, having the triangular-arched ceiling, and at each end a
raised step or divan. The wall and ceiling were stuccoed and covered
with paintings, the subjects of which were almost entirely effaced.
The day ended without our making any advances beyond this immediate
neighbourhood, but the next was made memorable by the unexpected
discovery that this forest-buried city was encompassed by a wall, which
had resisted all the elements of destruction at work upon it, and was
still erect and in good preservation. Since the beginning of our
exploration we had heard of city walls, but all vestiges of them
elsewhere had been uncertain, and our attempts to trace them
unsatisfactory. Young Molas had told us of these, and was on the ground
early to guide us to them. We set out without much expectation of any
decided result, and, following him through the woods, all at once found
ourselves confronted by a massive stone structure running at right
angles to the sea; and, following its direction, we soon came to a
gateway and watch-tower. We passed through the gateway, and followed
the wall outside, keeping as close to it as the trees and bushes would
permit, down to the sea. The character of this structure could not be
mistaken. It was, in the strictest sense, a city wall, the first we had
seen that could be identified as such beyond all question, and gave
colour to the many stories we had heard of walls, inducing us to
believe that many of the vestiges we had seen were parts of continuous
lines of enclosure. We immediately set about a thorough exploration,
and without once breaking off, measured it from one end to the other.
The engraving which follows represents the plan of this wall, as taken
from the sea. It forms a parallelogram abutting on the sea, the high,
precipitous cliff forming a sea wall 1500 feet in length. We began our
survey on the cliff at the southeast angle, where the abutment is much
fallen. We attempted to measure along the base, but the close growth of
trees and underbrush made it difficult to carry the line, and we
mounted to the top. Even then it was no easy matter. Trees growing
beside the wall threw their branches across it, thorns, bushes, and
vines of every description grew out of it, and at every step we were
obliged to cut down the Agave Americana, which pierced us with its
long, sharp points; the sun beat upon us, moschetoes, flies, and other
insects pestered us, but, under all annoyances, the day employed on the
summit of this wall was one of the most interesting we passed among
ruins.
[Engraving 62: Plan of the City Wall.
[Transcriber's Note: Legend to Engraving 62.
A. A. Walls. G. G. Buildings last discovered.
B. B. Gateways. H. Building with wooden roof.
C. C. Watch-towers. I. Altar.
D. Castillo. J. Guard house.
E. E. Small adoratorio. K. Senote of brackish water.
F. F. Casas. L. L. Thick woods.]
The wall is of rude construction, and composed of rough, flat stones,
laid upon each other without mortar or cement of any kind, and it
varies from eight to thirteen feet in thickness. The south side has two
gateways, each about five feet wide. At the distance of six hundred and
fifty feet the wall turns at right angles, and runs parallel to the
sea. At the angle, elevated so as to give a commanding view, and
reached by ascending a few steps, is the watch-tower represented in the
following engraving. It is twelve feet square, and has two doorways.
The interior is plain, and against the back wall is a small altar, at
which the guard might offer up prayers for the preservation of the
city. But no guard sits in the watch-tower now; trees are growing
around it; within the walk the city is desolate and overgrown, and
without is an unbroken forest. The battlements, on which the proud
Indian strode with his bow and arrow, and plumes of feathers, are
surmounted by immense thorn bushes and overrun by poisonous vines. The
city no longer keeps watch; the fiat of destruction has gone out
against it, and in solitude it rests, the abode of silence and
desolation.
[Engraving 63: A Watch-tower]
The west line, parallel with the sea, has a single gateway; at the
angle is another watch-tower, like that before presented, and the wall
then runs straight to the sea. The whole circuit is twenty-eight
hundred feet, and the reader may form some idea of its state of
preservation from the fact that, except toward the abutments on the
sea, we measured the whole length along the top of the wall. The plan
is symmetrical, encloses a rectangular area, and, as appears in the
engraving, the Castillo occupies the principal and central position.
This, however, on account of the overgrown state of the area, we were
not aware of until the plan was drawn out.
On the north side of the wall, near the east gateway, is a building
thirty-six feet in front and thirty-four deep, divided into two
principal and two smaller rooms, the ceilings of which had entirely
fallen. At one corner is a senote, with the remains of steps leading
down to it, and containing brackish water. Near this was a hollow rock
which furnished as with our supply.
Toward the southeast corner of the wall, on the brow of the cliff,
stands a building fifteen feet front and ten deep. The interior is
about seven feet high, and the ceiling is flat, and discloses an
entirely new principle of construction. It has four principal beams of
wood, about six inches in diameter, laid on the top of the wall from
end to end of the chamber, with smaller beams, about three inches in
diameter, laid across the larger so closely as to touch; and on these
crossbeams is a thick mass of mortar and large pebbles, which was laid
on moist, and now forms a solid crust, being the same materials which
we had seen in ruins on the floors of other rooms. Against the back
wall was an altar, with a rude triangular stone upon it, which seemed
to bear marks of not very distant use. On each side of the doorway were
large sea-shells fixed in the wall for the support of the doors.
These were all the buildings to which young Molas conducted us, and he
said there were no others within the area of the walls, but there were
many vestiges without; and it was our belief that the walls enclosed
only the principal, perhaps the sacred buildings, and that ruins
existed to a great distance beyond; but, with only young Molas and one
boatman, being all that the patron could spare at a time, we did not
consider it worth while to attempt any exploration; in fact, our
occupation of this walled city was too much disturbed to allow us to
think of remaining long. A legion of fierce usurpers, already in
possession, were determined to drive us out, and after hard work by
day, we had no rest at night;
"There was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently;"
and I will venture to say that a philosopher would find the moschetoes
of Tuloom worse than the toothache. We held our ground against them for
two nights, but on the third, one after the other, we crawled out of
our hammocks to the platform before the door. The moon was shining
magnificently, lighting up the darkness of the forest, and drawing a
long silvery line upon the sea. For a time we felt ourselves exalted
above the necessity of sleep, but by degrees drowsiness overcame us,
and at last we were all stretched at full length on the ground. The
onslaught was again terrible; we returned to our hammocks but found no
peace, and emerging again, kindled a large fire, and sat down to smoke
till daylight. It was aggravating to look the moon in the face, its
expression was so calm and composed. A savage notice to quit was
continually buzzing in our ears and all that we cared for was to get
away.