Discovery of a Building.--Two others.--Description of the first
Building.--Ornaments in Stucco.--Columns.--Corridor.--Paintings.--
Central Chamber.--Altar.--Upper Story.--Stone Tablets.--Another
Building.--Mutilated Figure.--Apartments.--Altar.--A third
Building.--This City seen by the early Spanish Voyagers.--Continued to
be occupied after the Conquest.--Adoratorios.--Accounts of ruined
Cities in the Interior.--Return Voyage.--Sea-sickness.--Nesuc.--
Kancune.--Ruined Buildings.--Island of Mugeres.--Sea-birds.--Appearance
of the Island.--A hideous Funeral Pile.--Ibises.--Lafitte.--Piratical
Associations.--Confession of a Pirate.--Visit to the Ruins.--A
lonely Edifice.--Grand Scene.--Corridors.--Inscriptions.--Square
Building.--Account of Bernal Dias.--Departure from the Island.--
Catoche.--Yalahao.--Ancient Mound.--El Cuyo.--An old Acquaintance in
Misfortune.
The next morning we finished what remained to be done, and, after an
early dinner, prepared to leave the ruins. While the men were arranging
their loads I gave Doctor Cabot a direction to a point in the wall,
where, in measuring around it, Mr. Catherwood and I had started two
ocellated turkeys. He set out to cut his way in a straight line with
his hunting knife, and very soon, while sitting on the steps of the
Castillo, I heard him calling to me that he had come upon another
building which we had not seen. Having occasion to economize shoe
leather for the walk back over the cliff, I at first hesitated about
going to it, but he insisted. He was so near that we communicated
without any particular effort of voice, but I could see nothing of him
or of the building. Following his path, I found him standing before it;
and while working our way around it we discovered two others near by,
almost invisible, so dense was the foliage of the trees, but the
largest, except the Castillo, and most important of any we had seen.
Our plans were all deranged, for we could not go away without drawings
of these buildings. We returned to the steps of the Castillo, and
summoned all hands to council. The men had their back-loads ready,
Bernaldo reported two tortillas as the stock of provisions on hand, and
the idea of another night in the Castillo struck us with dismay. We had
been so long accustomed to sleep that it had become part of our nature;
a night's rest was indispensable, and we determined to break up and
return the next day.
Before daylight the next morning Albino set off with Molas and the
sailors, and by the time Mr. Catherwood arrived on the ground the
clearing of the first building was made.
[Engraving 64: A Building]
The plate opposite represents the front of this building. It faces the
west, measures twenty-seven feet in length and nineteen in depth, and
consists of two stories. The exterior had been richly decorated, and
above the cornice were fragments of rich ornaments in stucco. The lower
story has four columns, making five doorways opening into a narrow
corridor, which runs round and encloses on three sides a chamber in the
centre. The walls of the corridor on both sides were covered with
paintings, but green and mildewed from the rankness of vegetation in
which the building is smothered. A small doorway in front opens into
the chamber, which measures eleven feet by seven; of this, too, the
walls were covered with paintings, decayed and effaced, and against the
back wall was an altar for burning copal.
The building on the top stands directly over the lower chamber, and
corresponds with it in dimensions, this being the only instance we met
with in which one room was placed directly over another. There was no
staircase or other visible means of communication between the lower and
upper stories.
At the rear of this building were others attached to it, or connected
with it, but uprooted and thrown down by trees, and among the ruins
were two stone tablets with rounded surfaces, six feet six inches high,
two feet four inches wide, and eight inches thick, having upon them
worn and indistinct traces of sculpture.
[Engraving 65: A Building]
At the short distance of fifty-three feet is the building represented
in the engraving opposite. It stands on a terrace six feet high, with a
staircase in the centre, measures forty-five feet by twenty-six, has
two pillars in the doorway, and over the centre is the head of a
mutilated figure. The interior is divided into two principal and
parallel apartments, and at the north extremity of the inner one is a
smaller apartment, containing an enclosed altar five feet long, and
three feet six inches deep, for burning copal. The roof had fallen, and
trees were growing out of the floor.
Near this is another building, larger than the last, constructed on the
same plan, but more ruined. These buildings were all within about two
hundred feet of the steps of the Castillo. We were in the very act of
leaving before we discovered them, and but for the accidental attempt
of Doctor Cabot to cut through in search of birds, or if he had
happened to cut a few yards to the right hand or the left, we should
have gone away ignorant of their existence.
It will be borne in mind that when this city was inhabited and clear of
trees, the buildings were all visible from the sea; the Spaniards are
known to have sailed along this coast, and the reader will ask if they
have given us no accounts of its existence. The narrative of the
expedition of Grijalva, taken up at the point at which we left it,
after crossing from Cozumel, continues: "We ran along day and night,
and the next day toward sunset we saw a bourg, or village, so large
that Seville would not have appeared larger or better. We saw there a
very high tower. There was upon the bank a crowd of Indians, who
carried two standards, which they raised and lowered as signs to us to
come and join them. The same day we arrived at a bay, near which was a
tower, the highest we had seen. We remarked a very considerable
village; the country was watered by many rivers. We discovered a bay
_where a fleet would have been able to enter_." This account is
certainly not so accurate as a coast survey would be at this day, but
it is more minute than most accounts of the early voyages of the
Spaniards, and, in my opinion, it is all sufficient to identify this
now desolate city. After crossing over from Cozumel, twenty-four hours'
sailing would bring them to this part of the coast; and the next
circumstance mentioned, viz., the discovery of a bay where a fleet
would have been able to enter, is still stronger, for at the distance
of about eight leagues below Tuloom is the Bay of Ascension, always
spoken of by the Spanish writers as a harbour in which the whole
Spanish navy might lie at anchor. It is the only bay along the coast
from Cape Catoche into which large vessels can enter, and constrains me
to the belief that the desolate place now known as Tuloom was that
"bourg, or village, so large that Seville would not appear larger or
better," and that the Castillo, from which we were driven by the
moschetoes, was that "highest tower which the Spaniards had seen."
Farther, it is my firm belief that this city continued to be occupied
by its aboriginal inhabitants long after the conquest, for Grijalva
turned back from the Bay of Ascension, again passed without landing,
and after the disastrous expedition of Don Francisco Montejo, the
Spaniards made no attempt upon this part of the coast, so that the
aborigines must have remained for a long time in this place unmolested.
And the strong impression of a comparatively very recent occupation is
derived from the appearance of the buildings themselves, which, though
not less ruined, owing to the ranker growth of trees, had in some
instances an appearance of freshness and good keeping that, amid the
desolation and solitude around, was almost startling.
Outside of the walls are several small buildings, no doubt intended for
adoratorios, or altars, one of which is represented in the following
engraving. It stands on a terrace, having a circular platform, on the
brow of the cliff, overlooking the sea, and measures fifteen feet front
by twelve deep. The doorway faces the north. The interior consists of a
single chamber, and against the back wall is an altar in such a state
of preservation as to be fit for its original uses. Near the foot of
the steps, overgrown by the scrubby wild palm which covers the whole
cliff, is a small altar, with ornaments in stucco, one of which seems
intended to represent a pineapple. These wanted entirely the massive
character of the buildings, and are so slight that they could almost be
pushed over with the foot. They stand in the open air, exposed to
strong easterly winds, and almost to the spray of the sea. It was
impossible to believe that the altar had been abandoned three hundred
years; within that time some guardian eye had watched over it, some
pious hand had repaired it, and long since the arrival of the Spaniards
the Indian had performed before it his idolatrous rites.
[Engraving 66: An Adoratorio]
Under the circumstances attending our visit to it, we found this one of
the most interesting places we had seen in our whole exploration of
ruins; but I am compelled to omit many details deserving of description
and comment, and shall close with one remark. The reader knows the
difficulty we had in reaching this place from the interior. The whole
triangular region from Valladolid to the Bay of Ascension on one side,
and the port of Yalahao on the other, is not traversed by a single
road, and the rancho of Molas is the only settlement along the coast.
It is a region entirely unknown; no white man ever enters it. Ruined
cities no doubt exist, and young Molas told us of a large building many
leagues in the interior, known to an old Indian, covered with paintings
in bright and vivid colours, and the subjects of which were still
perfect. With difficulty we contrived to see this Indian, but he was
extremely uncommunicative; said it was many years since he saw the
building; that he had come upon it in the dry season while hunting, and
should not be able to find it again. It is my belief that within this
region cities like those we have seen in ruins were kept up and
occupied for a long time, perhaps one or two centuries, after the
conquest, and that, down to a comparatively late period, Indians were
living in them, the same as before the discovery of America. In fact, I
conceive it to be not impossible that within this secluded region may
exist at this day, unknown to white men, a living aboriginal city,
occupied by relics of the ancient race, who still worship in the
temples of their fathers.
The reader will, perhaps, think that I have gone far enough. We had now
finished our voyage along the coast, and the end which we had in view
was fully accomplished. We had seen, abandoned and in ruins, the same
buildings which the Spaniards saw entire and inhabited by Indians, and
we had identified them beyond question as the works of the same people
who created the great ruined cities over which, when we began our
journey, hung a veil of seemingly impenetrable mystery. At that time,
we believed the discovery and comparison of these remains to be the
surest, if not the only means, of removing this veil; and though other
proofs had accumulated upon us, these were not on that account the less
interesting.
Our journey in this direction is now ended, and our course is homeward.
We were detained one day at Tancar by a storm, and on Tuesday morning
the patron came to us in a hurry with a summons on board; the wind had
veered so that he could get out of the harbour; and, bidding good-by to
the carpenter and Molas, we were soon under way. The wind was still
high, and the sea so rough, and kept the little canoa in such
commotion, that in half an hour nearly all our party were sea-sick. The
servants were completely disabled, and there was no chance for a
dinner. We had a strong wind and fair, passed several small square
stone buildings, like those of which representations have been given,
but, on account of the rough sea and rocky shore we could not land, and
late in the afternoon put in at Nesuc, where we had stopped before,
distinguished by its solitary palm tree.
Early in the morning we were again under way, and coasted to the point
of Kancune, where we landed in front of a rancho then occupied by a
party of fishermen. Near by was another great pile of the skeletons of
turtles. The fishermen were busy within the hut mending their nets, and
seemed to be leading a hardy, independent, and social life, entirely
different from anything seen in the interior. A short walk brought us
to the point, on which stood two dilapidated buildings, one entirely
fallen, and the other having dimensions like the smallest of those seen
at Tuloom. It was so intensely hot, and we were so annoyed by millions
of sand-flies, that we did not think it worth while to stay, but
returned to the hut, embarked, and, crossing over, in two hours reached
the island of Mugeres. Near the shore were immense flocks of sea-birds,
sitting on the piles of a turtle enclosure; over our heads was a cloud
of white ibises, and, somewhat to the surprise of the fishermen, our
coming to anchor was signalized by a discharge of heavy bird artillery,
and a splashing into the water to pick up the dead and wounded. In
wading ashore we stuck in a mud-bank, and had time to contemplate the
picturesque beauty of the scene before us. It was a small sandy beach,
with a rocky coast on each side, and trees growing down to the water,
broken only by a small clearing opposite the beach, in which were two
palm leaf huts, and an arbour covered with palm leaves. Under the
arbour hung three small hammocks, and a hardy, sun-dried fisherman sat
repairing a net, with two Indian boys engaged in weaving a new one. The
old fisherman, without desisting from his work, invited us to the
hammocks, and, to satisfy our invariable first want on this coast, sent
a boy for water, which, though not good, was better than that on board.
Along the shore, at no great distance, was a funeral pile of the
carcasses of turtles, half burned, and covered with countless millions
of flies, actually heaving and moving as if alive; and near this
hideous pile, as if to contrast beauty and deformity, was a tree,
covered to its topmost boughs with the white ibis, its green foliage
appearing like an ornamental frame-work to their snowy plumage. We
ordered our dinner to be brought to the arbour, and as we were sitting
down a canoe came ashore; the fishermen dragged across the beach two
large turtles, and leaving the carcasses to swell the funeral pile,
brought down to the arbour strings of eggs, and the parts that served
for food or oil, and hung them quivering in the sun along the fence,
their sudden blackness from swarms of flies disturbing somewhat the
satisfaction with which we had first hailed this arbour. We had again
stopped to visit ruins, but in the afternoon it rained, and we could
not go to them. The arbour was no protection, and we were obliged to go
inside the hut, which was snug and comfortable, the oil jars being
arranged under the eaves, with turtle-shells tied up carefully in
bundles, and on the rafters hung strings of eggs, while nets, old
sails, blocks, and other characteristic furniture of a fisherman's hut
filled up the corners. It was no hardship to be obliged to pass the
afternoon among these fishermen, for their hardy, independent
occupation gave manliness to their character, and freedom to their
speech and manners.
The island was famed among the fishermen as the rendezvous of Lafitte
the pirate, and the patron told us that our host had been his prisoner
two years. This man was about fifty-five, tall and thin, and his face
was so darkened by the sun that it was hard to say whether he was white
or of mixed blood. We remarked that he was not fond of talking of his
captivity; he said he did not know how long he was a prisoner nor where
he was taken; and as the business of piracy was rather complicated in
these parts, we conceived a suspicion that he had not been a prisoner
entirely against his will. His fellow-fishermen had no narrow feelings
on the subject, and perhaps gave a preference to piracy as a larger
business, and one that brought more ounces, than catching turtles. They
seemed however, to have an idea that los Ingleses entertained different
views, and the prisoner, el pobre, as our patron called him, said those
things were all over, and it was best not to disturb them. He could
not, however, help dropping a few words in behalf of Lafitte, or
Monsieur Lafitta; he did not know whether it was true what people said
of him, but he never hurt the poor fishermen, and, led on by degrees he
told us that Lafitte died in his arms, and that his widow, a senora del
Norte from Mobile, was then living in great distress at Silan, the port
at which we intended to disembark.
Besides piratical associations, this island had been the scene of a
strange incident within the last two years. A sailor lay on his
death-bed in Cadiz, penniless and friendless, and, to requite the
kindness of his host for allowing him to die in his house, he told the
latter that, some years before, he had belonged to a band of pirates,
and upon one occasion, after taking a rich prize and murdering all on
board, he had gone ashore with his companions at the island of Mugeres,
and buried a large sum of money in gold. When the piratical hordes were
broken up he escaped, and dared not return to regions where he might be
recognised. He said his companions were all hanged except one
Portuguese, who lived in the island of Antigua, and, as the only means
of requiting his host's kindness, he advised him to seek out the
Portuguese and recover the money. The host at first thought the story
was told only to secure a continuance of good treatment, and paid no
attention to it, but the sailor died protesting its truth. The Spaniard
made a voyage to the island of Antigua, and found out the Portuguese,
who at first denied all knowledge of the transaction, but at length
confessed it, and said that he was only waiting for an opportunity to
go and dig up the gold. Some arrangement was made between them, and the
Spaniard procured a small vessel, and set sail with the Portuguese on
board. The vessel became short of provisions and water, and off Yalahao
encountered the patron of our canoa, who, as he said, on receiving
twenty-five dollars in advance, piloted her into that place for
supplies. While there the story of the treasure leaked out; the
Portuguese tried to escape, but the Spaniard set sail, carrying him
off. The fishermen followed in canoas. The Portuguese, under the
influence of threats, indicated a place for the landing, and was
carried on shore bound. He protested that in that condition he could
not find the spot; he had never been there except at the time of
burying the gold, and required time and freedom of movement; but the
Spaniard, furious at the notoriety given to the thing, and at the
uninvited company of the fishermen, refused to trust him, and set his
men to digging, the fishermen joining on their own account. The digging
continued two days, during which time the Portuguese was treated with
great cruelty, and the sympathy of the fishermen was excited, and
increased by the consideration that this island was within their
fishing limits, and if they got the Portuguese into their own
possession, they could come back at any time and dig up the money
quietly, without any wrangle with strangers. In the mean time, our old
friend Don Vicente Albino, then living at Cozumel, hearing of treasure
on an island belonging to nobody, and so near his own, ran down with
his sloop and put in for the Portuguese. The Spanish proprietor was
obliged to give him up. Don Vicente could not get hold of him, and the
fishermen carried him off to Yalahao, where, finding himself out of the
actual grasp of any of them, he set up for himself, and by the first
opportunity slipped off in a canoa for Campeachy, since which he had
never been heard of.
[Engraving 67: A lonely Edifice]
Early in the morning, under the guidance of two of the fishermen, we
set out to visit the ruins. The island of Mugeres is between four and
five mile long, half a mile wide, and four miles distant from the
mainland. The ruins were at the north end. For a short distance we kept
along the shore, and then struck into a path cut straight across the
island. About half way across we came to a santa cruz, or holy cross,
set up by the fishermen, at which place we heard distinctly the sound
of the breakers on the opposite shore. To the right a faint track was
perceptible, which soon disappeared altogether; but our guides knew the
direction, and, cutting a way with the machete, we came out upon a
high, rocky, perpendicular cliff, which commanded an immense expanse of
ocean, and against which the waves, roused by the storm of the night
before, were dashing grandly. We followed along the brink of the cliff
and around the edges of great perpendicular chasms, the ground being
bare of trees and covered with a scrubby plant, called the uba, with
gnarled roots, spreading like the branches of a grape-vine. At the
point terminating the island, standing boldly upon the sea, was the
lonely edifice represented in the engraving opposite. Below, rocking on
the waves was a small canoa, with our host then in the act of getting
on board a turtle. It was the wildest and grandest scene we had looked
upon in our whole journey.
The steps which led to the building are in good preservation, and at
the foot is a platform, with the ruins of an altar. The front, on one
side of the doorway, has fallen. When entire it measured twenty-eight
feet, and it is fifteen feet deep. On the top is a cross, probably
erected by the fishermen. The interior is divided into two corridors,
and in the wall of that in front are three small doorways leading to
the inner corridor. The ceiling had the triangular arch, and throughout
the hand of the builders on the mainland could not be mistaken, but on
the walls were writings which seemed strangely familiar in an
aboriginal building. These inscriptions were,
D. Doyle, 1842. A. G. Goodall, 1842.
H. M. Ship Blossom.
11th October, 1811. Corsaire Frances (Chebek) le Vengeur,
Capt. Pierre Liovet;
and wafered on the wall on separate cards were the names of the
officers of the Texan schooners of war San Bernard and San Antonio.
At the distance of a few hundred feet was another building about
fourteen feet square, having four doorways, with steps on three sides,
dilapidated, and almost inaccessible on account of the thickets of
cactus and thorn bushes growing around it.
In the account given by Bernal Dias of the expedition of Cortez, he
says that, after leaving the island of Cozumel, the fleet was separated
by a gale of wind, but the next day all the ships joined company except
one, which, according to the surmise of the pilot, was found in a
certain bay on the coast wind bound. "Here," says Bernal Dias, "several
of our companions went on shore, and found in the town hard by, four
temples, the idols in which represented human female figures of large
size, for which reason we named this place _Punta_ de las Mugeres," or
the Point of the Women. Gomarra speaks of a _Cape_ Mugeres, and says,
"At this place there were towers covered with wood and straw, in which,
in the best order, were put many idols, that appeared to be
representations of women." No mention is made by any of the old
historians of the _island_ of Mugeres, but there is no point or cape on
the mainland; and, considering the ignorance of the coast which must
have existed in the early voyages, it is not impossible to believe that
the Spaniards gave to the promontory on which these buildings stand the
name of point or cape, in which case the building presented in the
engraving may be one of the temples or towers referred to by Bernal
Dias and Gomarra.
We returned to the hut ready to embark, and at twelve o'clock we took
leave of the fishermen, and were again on board our canoa.
The wind was fair and strong, and very soon we reached the point of the
island. Toward dark we doubled Catoche, and, for the first time
coasting all night, day broke upon us in the harbour of Yalahao. After
the desolate regions we had been visiting, the old pirates' haunt
seemed a metropolis. We anchored on a mud-bank leg deep, and now
discovered that our patron, hired only for the occasion, intended to
leave us, and substitute another. Afraid of the men following, and
subjecting us to detention, we forwarded a threatening message to the
agent, and remained on board.
At seven o'clock we were again under way, with the wind directly
astern, and as much as we could carry, the canoa rolling so that we
were compelled to take in the mainsail. The coast was low, barren, and
monotonous. At three o'clock we passed an ancient mound, towering above
the huts that constituted the port of El Cuyo, a landmark for sailors,
visible at sea three leagues distant; but our patron told us that there
were no buildings or vestiges of ruins.
At four o'clock we saw an old acquaintance in misfortune. It was the
brig which had arrived at Sisal a few hours after we did, lying a wreck
on the beach, with foremast and bowsprit broken, sails stripped, but
the hull still entire; probably long before this the shore is strewed
with her fragments.