Atlantic Monthly Vol. 6, No. 33, July, 1860 by Various
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Various >> Atlantic Monthly Vol. 6, No. 33, July, 1860
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The _alcalde_ was very hard on his constituency, and, from all that
we could gather, he seemed to regard them collectively as
_"bestias_," and _"hombres sin vergueenza"_ (men without shame). We
concurred with him, and regretted that he had not a wider and more
elevated official sphere, and gave him, withal, a _trago_ of brandy,
which he seemed greatly to relish, and then again approached the
subject of _sacate_ for our mules. To our astonishment, the _alcalde_
suddenly grew grave, and interrupted me with--
_"Pero, no hay, Senor_." (But there is none, Sir.)
"Well, maize will answer."
_"Tampoco_."
"What! no maize? What do you make your _tortillas_ of?"
"We have no _tortillas_."
"How, then, do you live?"
"We don't live."
A general shout of laughter greeted this last reply, in which, after
a moment of puzzled hesitation, the _alcalde_ himself joined.
"So, you don't live?"
"Absolutely, no!"
"But you eat?"
"Very little. We are very poor."
"Well, what do you eat?"
"Cheese, _frijoles_, and an egg now and then."
"But, no _tortillas_?"
"No. We planted the last kernel of maize two days ago."
And so it was. The little stock of dried grass and maize-stalks
stored up from the present rainy season had long ago been consumed,
and the maize itself, which is here the real staff of life, had run
short,--and that, too, in a country where three crops a year might
easily be produced by a very moderate expenditure of labor in the way
of tillage and irrigation.
Fortunately for our poor animals, Dolores had provided against
contingencies like this, and taken in a supply of maize at La Union.
As for ourselves, what with a few eggs and _frijoles_, furnished by
the _alcalde_, in addition to the stock of edibles, pickled oysters
and other luxuries, prepared for us by Dona Maria, we contrived to
fare right sumptuously in Goascoran. We afterwards found out,
experimentally, what it was not to live, in the sense intended to be
conveyed by the unfortunate _alguazil_ and the impetuous _alcalde_,
and which H. declared logically meant to be without _tortillas_--But
we could never make out why the alcalde should call the _alguazil_ "a
beast," and beat him over his shoulders with a cane, withal.
Goascoran is a small town, of about four hundred inhabitants, and
boasts a tolerably genteel church and a comfortable _cabildo_. It is
situated on the left bank of the river to which it gives its name,
and which here still maintains its character of a broad and beautiful
stream. On the opposite side from the town rises a high, picturesque
bluff, at the foot of which the river gathers its waters in deep,
dark pools with mirror-like surfaces, disturbed only by the splash of
fishes springing at their prey, or by the sudden dash of water-fowls
settling from their arrowy flight in a little cloud of spray.
I have alluded to the castellated Rock of Goascoran, which, however,
is only a type of the general features of the surrounding country.
The prevailing rock is sandstone, and it is broken up in fantastic
peaks, or great cubical blocks with flat tops and vertical walls,
resembling the mesas of New Mexico. At night, their dark masses,
rising on every hand, might be mistaken for frowning fortresses or
massive strongholds of the Middle Ages. They seem to mark the line
where the volcanic forces which raised the high islands in the Bay of
Fonseca had their first conflict with the sedimentary and primitive
rocks of the interior. The river is full of boulders of quartz and
granite reddened by fire, resembling jasper, and alternating with
worn blocks of lava,--further evidences of volcanic action.
Altogether, the country, in its natural aspects, reminds the
traveller of the district lying between Pompeii and Sorrento, in
Italy, and probably owes its essential features to the same causes.
From Goascoran to Aramacina, a distance of twelve miles, the road
traverses a slightly broken country, while the river pursues its
course, as before, through a picturesque valley, narrowed in places
by outlying _mesas_, but still regular, and throughout perfectly
feasible for a railway. Aramacina itself is prettily situated, in a
bend of one of the tributaries of the Goascoran, the Rio Aramacina,
and numbers perhaps three hundred inhabitants. Immediately in front
rises a broad sandstone table or _mesa_, at the foot of which there
are some trickling springs of salt water, much frequented by cattle,
and corresponding to the _saltlicks_ of our Western States.
Behind the town is a high spur of the mountain range of Lepaterique,
covered with pines, and veined with silver-bearing quartz. We visited
the abandoned mines of Marqueliso and Potosi, but the shafts were
filled with water, and only faint traces remained of the ancient
establishments. Extravagant traditions are current of the wealth of
these mines, and of the amounts of treasure which were taken from
them in the days of the Viceroys. A few specimens of the refuse ore,
which we picked up at the mouth of the principal shaft, proved, on
analysis, to be exceedingly rich, and gave some color to the local
traditions.
The _cabildo_ of Aramacina was very much dilapidated, and promised us
but poor protection against the rain, which now began to fall every
night with the greatest regularity. We nevertheless selected the
corner where the roof appeared soundest, and managed to pass the
night without a serious wetting. The evening was enlivened by visits
from all the leading inhabitants, whom we found to be far more
communicative than their neighbors of Goascoran. Our most
entertaining visitor, however, was a "countryman," as he styled
himself, a negro by the name of John Robinson, born in New York, and
now a magnate in Aramacina, where he had resided for upwards of
sixteen years. Although he had fallen into the habits of the native
population, and wore neither shirt nor shoes, he entertained for them
a superlative contempt, which he expressed in a strange jumble of bad
English and worse Spanish. He had been with Perry on Lake Erie, and
afterwards on board various vessels of war, in some capacity which he
did not explain with great clearness, but which he evidently intended
should be understood as but little lower than that of commander. A
glass of brandy made him eloquent, and he took a position in the
middle of the _cabildo_, and gave us an oration on the people of
Honduras, in a style singularly grotesque and demonstrative. In
broken and scarcely intelligible English,--for he had nearly
forgotten the language of his youth,--he denounced them as "thieves
and liars," and then asked them, "Is it not true?" Imagining,
doubtless, that he was declaiming their praises, the enthusiastic
assemblage responded, _"Si! si!"_ (Yes! yes!) Not a crime so gross,
nor a trait of character so degraded, but he laid it to their charge,
receiving always the same vehement response, _"Si! Si!"_
We got rid of our _paisano_ with difficulty, and only under a promise
to visit his _chacra_, somewhere in the vicinity, next morning. But
we saw no more of him,--not much to our regret; for John Robinson, I
fear, was sadly addicted to brandy, of which our supply was far too
small to admit of honoring many such drafts as he had made the
preceding evening.
One and a half miles to the southeast of Aramacina is a ledge of
sandstone rock, with a smooth vertical face, which is covered over
with figures, deeply cut in outline. This ledge forms one side of a
rural amphitheatre overlooking the adjacent valley, and is by nature
a spot likely to be selected as a "sacred place" by the Indians. It
faces towards the west, and from all parts of the amphitheatre, which
may have answered the purposes of a temple, the morning sun would
appear to rise directly over the rock. The engravings in some places
are much defaced or worn by time, so that they cannot be made out;
but generally they are deep and distinct,--so deep, indeed, that I
used those which run horizontally as steps whereby to climb up the
face of the ledge. I should say that they were two and a half inches
deep. A portion had been effaced by a rude quarry which the people of
Aramacina had opened here to obtain stone for their church.
Some of the figures are easily recognizable as those of men and
animals, while others appear entirely arbitrary, or designed simply
for ornament. Enough can be clearly made out to show the affiliation
of the engravers with the ancient Mexican families of Nicaragua and
San Salvador. The space covered by these inscriptions is about one
hundred feet long, by twelve or fifteen in height. A quarter of a
mile to the southward are other smaller rocks with figures, too much
defaced, however, to be traced satisfactorily. Vases of curious
workmanship, human bones in considerable quantities, and other relics
and remains, it is said, may be discovered by digging in the earth
anywhere within the natural amphitheatre to which I have referred.
This is another circumstance going to favor the belief that this was
anciently a place of great sanctity; for it is a universal custom
among all nations to bury their dead in the neighborhood of shrines
and temples.
Although the immediate district in which these aboriginal traces are
found does not seem to have fallen within the region occupied by the
Nahuatt or Mexican tribes of Central America at the time of the
Conquest, but in what was called the country of the Chontals, yet it
is not difficult to suppose, that, in the various hostile encounters
which we know took place between the two nations, the Nahuatts may
have penetrated as far as Aramacina, and left here some record of
their visit,--if, indeed, they did not succeed in effecting a
temporary lodgment. At any rate, there can be but little doubt that a
portion of the engravings on the rocks above described, but
particularly those which seem to record dates, were made by them.
From Aramacina to Caridad, the next town on our course, and four
leagues distant, the road is laid out on Spanish principles, which
are the very reverse of scientific. Instead of keeping along the
river-valley, it passes directly over a high, rocky spur of the
lateral mountains, through a pass called _El Portillo_, (The Portal,)
elevated fifteen hundred feet above the sea. The view from its
summit, whence we were enabled to trace our course up to this point,
as if on a map, in some degree compensated us for the labor of the
ascent. From here we could also look ahead, beyond the town of
Caridad; and we saw, with some misgivings, that there the lateral
ranges of mountains seemed to send down their spurs boldly to the
river, leaving only what the Spaniards call a _canon_ or narrow
gorge, walled in with precipitous rocks, for its passage. A shadow
came over every face, in view of the possible obstacles in our path;
and although we tried to reassure ourselves by the reflection, that,
where so large a stream could pass, there must certainly be room
enough for a road, yet, it must be confessed, we wound down the hill
of El Portillo to Caridad with spirits much depressed. Moreover, a
drizzling rain set in before we reached the village, and clouds and
vapor settled down gloomily on the surrounding hills and mountains,
rendering us altogether more dismal than we had been since leaving
New York. We rode up to the _cabildo_ of Caridad in silence, and
fortunately found it new, neat, and comfortable, with cover for our
mules, ample facilities for cooking, and an abundance of dry wood for
a fire, now rendered necessary to comfort by the damp, and the
proximity of high mountains. Fortunately, also, we experienced no
difficulty in getting fodder for our animals and food for
ourselves,--a bright-eyed Senora, wife of the principal _alcalde_,
volunteering to send us freshly baked and crisp _tortillas_, which
were brought to us hot, in the folds of the whitest of napkins. After
dinner and coffee, and under the genial influences of a fire of the
pitch-pine, which gave us both light and heat, our spirits returned,
and we did not refuse a hearty laugh, when H. read from a dingy
paper, which he found sticking on the wall of the _cabildo_, the
report of the day's transactions on the Caridad Exchange, "marked by
a great and sudden decline in railway shares, caused by the timidity
of holders, and by an equally sudden reaction, occasioned by two
dozen of soft-boiled eggs and a peck of _tortillas_."
Caridad is a neat little town, of about three hundred inhabitants,
situated on a level plateau nearly surrounded by high mountains,--the
valley of the river, both above and below, being reduced to its
narrowest limits. To the northeastward of the town, and on a shelf of
the Lepaterique Mountains, which rise abruptly in that direction, and
are covered with pine forests to their summits, is distinctly visible
the Indian town of Lauterique,--its position indicating clearly that
it had been selected with reference to defensive purposes. We had
seen its white church from El Portillo, looking like a point of
silver on the dark green slope of the mountain.
Rain fell heavily during the night; but the morning broke bright and
clear. The increased roar of the river, however, made known to us
that it was greatly swollen, and when we walked down to its brink we
found it a rapid and angry torrent, with its volume of water more
than double that of the previous day. This was not an encouraging
circumstance; for we had learned, that, if we intended following up
the stream, instead of making a grand _detour_ over the mountains, it
would be necessary to ford the river, about a mile above the town.
All advised us against attempting the passage. _"Manana_,"
(Tomorrow,) they said, would do as well, and we had better wait.
Meanwhile the waters would subside. Nobody had ever attempted the
passage after such a storm; and the river was _"muy bravo"_ (very
angry). I have said that all advised us against moving; but I should
except the second _alcalde_, who had taken a great fancy to us, and
wanted to enter our service. His dignity did not rebel at the
position of _arriero_ or muleteer; any place would suit him, so that
we would agree to take him finally to "El Norte,"--for such is the
universal designation of the United States among the people of
Central America. He shared in none of the fears of his townsmen, and
told them, that, fortunately, all the world was not as timid as
themselves, and wound up by volunteering to accompany us and get us
across. We gladly accepted his offer, and started out with the least
possible delay. I need not say that we made rather an anxious party.
The unpromising observations of the preceding day, and the
possibilities of the mountains' closing down on the river so as to
forbid a passage, were uppermost in every mind; but all sought to
hide their real feelings under an affectation of cheerfulness, not to
say of absolute gayety. As we advanced, and rounded the hills which
shut in the little _plateau_ of Caridad on the north, we saw that the
high lateral mountains sent down their rocky spurs towards each other
like huge buttresses, lapping by, and, so far as the eye could
discern, forming a complete and insurmountable barrier. Over the brow
of one of these, a zigzag streak of white marked the line of the
mule-path. Our guide traced it out to us with his finger, and assured
us that it traversed a bad _portillo_, over which the wind sometimes
sweeps with such force as to take a loaded mule off his feet, and
dash him down the steep sides of the mountain. Half a mile of level
ground still intervened between us and the apparent limit of our
advance, and we trotted over it in silence, pulling up on the abrupt
bank of the deep trough of the river, which foamed and chafed among
the great boulders in its bed, and against its rocky shores, nearly a
hundred feet below us. A break-neck path wound down to a little
sandpit; and on the opposite side of the stream another path wound
up, in like manner, to a narrow _plateau_, on which stood a single
hut, with its surroundings of plantain-trees and maize-fields. I
looked anxiously up the stream, but a sudden bend, a few hundred
yards above, shut off the view; and there the flinty buttresses of
the mountain rose sheer and frowning, perpendicularly from the
water's edge.
The eyes of the Lieutenant had followed mine, and we exchanged a
glance which expressed as plainly as words, that, unless the
mountain-spur which projected into the bend of the river should prove
sufficiently narrow to be tunnelled, or should fall off so as to
admit of a side-cutting in the rock, our project might be regarded as
at an end. To determine that point was our next and most important
step. Down the steep descent, scrambling amongst rocks and bushes,
where it seemed a goat would hardly dare to venture,--down we plunged
to the water's edge. Here the stream was not less than a hundred
yards broad, flowing over a rocky bed full of rolling stones and
boulders, with a velocity which it seemed impossible for man or beast
to stem. But our _alcalde_ was equal to the emergency.
Stripping himself naked, he took a long pole shod with iron, which
seemed to be kept here for the purpose, and started out boldly into
the stream, for the purpose of making a preliminary survey of the
line of passage. Planting his pole firmly down the stream, so as to
support himself against the current, he cautiously advanced, step by
step, "prospecting" the bottom with his feet, so as to ascertain the
shallowest ford, and that freest from rocks and stones. Sometimes he
slipped into deep holes and disappeared beneath the surface, but be
always recovered himself, and went on with his work with the greatest
deliberation and composure. After crossing and recrossing the river
in this manner three or four times, he succeeded in fixing on a
serpentine line, where the water, except for a few yards near the
opposite bank, was only up to his shoulders, and which he pronounced
_"muy factible"_ (very feasible).
"But, _amigo"_ exclaimed H., in an excited tone, "you forget that you
are six feet high, and that I am but five feet five!"
_"No hay cuidado!"_ (Have no care!) was the reassuring reply of the
alcalde, as he slapped his broad chest with his open palm; _"soy
responsable!"_ (I am responsible!)
The mules were now unsaddled, and the trunks taken over, one by one,
on the _alcalde's_ head. Next, the animals were forced into the
water, and, after vehement flounderings, now swimming, now stumbling
over rolling stones, they were finally, bruised and bleeding and the
forlornest of animals, got across in safety. Next came our turn, and
I led the way, with a thong fastened around my body below the
armpits, and attached, in like manner, to our stalwart _alcalde_.
Long before we reached the middle of the stream, notwithstanding I
carried a large stone under each arm by way of ballast, I was swept
from my feet out to the length of my tether, and thus towed over by
our guide. When all were snugly across, the laughter was loud and
long over the ridiculous figure which everybody had cut in
everybody's eyes, except his own. H. immortalized the transit in what
the French call _un croquis_, but it would hardly bear reproduction
in the pages of a narrative so staid as this.
Intent on determining, with the least possible delay, the important
question, whether the mountains really opposed an insurmountable
obstacle to our project, I left my companions and Dolores to resaddle
and get under way at their leisure, and pushed ahead with the
_alcalde_. Striking off from the mule-path, we climbed up, among
loose rocks and dwarf-trees and bushes, to the top of the mountain.
My excitement gave me unwonted vigor, and my sturdy guide, streaming
with perspiration long before we reached the summit, prayed me, "in
the name of all the saints," to moderate my rate of speed, and give
him a _trago_ of Cognac. My suspense was not of long duration; for,
on reaching the crest of the eminence, I found that we were indeed on
a narrow spur, easily tunnelled, or readily turned by galleries in
the rock, and that, beyond, the country opened out again in a broad
table-land sloping gently from the north, and traversed nearly in its
centre by the gorge of the river. The break in the Cordilleras was
now distinct, and I could look quite through it, and see the blue
peaks of the mountains on the Atlantic slope of the continent. A
single glance sufficed to disclose all this to my eager vision, and
the next instant six rapid shots from my revolver conveyed the
intelligence to my companions, who were toiling up the narrow
mule-path, half a mile to my right. The _Teniente_ dismounted, evidently
with the intention of joining us, but soon got back again into his
saddle,--having experienced, as H. explained, "a sudden recurrence of
palpitation."
Rejoining my companions, I dismissed our guide with a reward which
surprised him, and we pursued our way to the _Portillo_. This name is
given to the point where the path, after winding up the side of the
mountain half-way to its summit, suddenly turns round its brow, and
commences its descent. It is a narrow shelf, in some places scarcely
more than a foot wide, rudely worked in the living rock, which falls
off below in a steep and almost precipitous descent to the river; and
although it did not quite realize the idea we had formed of it from
the description of our guide, it was sufficiently pokerish to inspire
the most daring mountaineer with caution. At any rate, most of our
party dismounted, preferring to lead their mules around the point to
having their heads turned in riding past it. Exposed to the full
force of the winds, which are drawn through this river-valley as
through a funnel, and with a foothold so narrow, it was easy to
believe that neither man nor beast could pass here during the season
of the northers, except at great risk of being dashed down the
declivity.
A little beyond the _Portillo_, the road diverges from the valley
proper of the river, and is carried over an undulating country to the
village of San Antonio del Norte, finely situated on a grassy plain,
of considerable extent, a dependency of the valley of the Goascoran.
We had intended stopping here for the night; but the _cabildo_ was
already filled with a motley crowd of _arrieros_ and others on their
way to San Miguel. A tall _mestizo_, covered with ulcers, sat in the
doorway, and two or three culprits extended their claw-like hands
towards us through the bars of their cage and invoked alms in the
name of the Virgin and all things sacred. We therefore contented
ourselves with a lunch under the corridor of a neighboring house,
and, notwithstanding it was late in the afternoon, pressed forward
towards the little Indian town of San Juan, three leagues distant.
It was a long and rough and weary way, and as night fell without any
sign of a village in front, we began to have a painful suspicion that
we had lost our road,--if a narrow mule-path, often scarcely
traceable, can be dignified by that name. So we stopped short, to
allow a man on foot, whom we had observed following on our track for
half an hour, to come up. He proved to be a bright-eyed, good-natured
Indian, who addressed us as _"Vuestras Mercedes_," and who informed
us not only that we were on the right road to San Juan, but also that
he himself belonged there and was now on his way home.
"Good, _amigo!_--but how far is it?"
_"Hay no mas"_ (There is no more,) was the consoling response.
"But where is the town?"
_"Alla!"_ (There!)
And he threw his hand forward, and projected his lips in the
direction he sought to indicate,--a mode of indication, I may add,
almost universal in Central America, and explicable only on the
assumption that it costs less effort than to raise the hand.
Our new friend was communicative, and told us that he had been all
the way to Caridad to bring a priest to San Juan, _"para hacer cosas
de familia_," (to attend to family affairs,) which he explained as
meaning "to marry, baptize, and catechize." The people of San Juan,
he added, were too poor to keep a priest of their own; they couldn't
pay enough; and, moreover, their women were all old and ugly. And he
indulged in a knowing wink and chuckle.
Meantime we had kept on our course, and it had become quite dark;
still there was no sign of the village,--not even the flicker of
lights or the barking of dogs.
"What did the fellow say about the distance?" inquired H., angrily.
"That there was no more distance."
"Ask him again; he couldn't have understood you."
_"Amigo_, where is your village? You said just now that it was close
by."
_"Hay no masita, Senor!"_
"What's that?"
"He says that the distance was nothing before, and is still less
now!"
"Bah! he's a fool!" Half an hour later, which to H.'s indignant
imagination seemed an age, we reached the top of a high ridge, and
saw the first glimmer of the lights of the village, on the farther
edge of a broad plain, a mile and a half distant.
_"Estamos aqui!"_ (Here we are!) exclaimed our guide, triumphantly.
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