CHAPTER IV.

No wonder that Master C., who had bundled himself towards the end of the deck whereon I was standing, looking, I have no doubt, ruefully upon this acquisition, should exclaim as he saw me—“You have got a revolver there, stranger, and you are in a jolly fix, ain’t you now, how to fire it off?”

That was just my difficulty, so I replied meekly, “Can you tell me if it is loaded!”

“Why, don’t you know?” replied the youth with great contempt.

“Mr Z. has just given it to me, and I forgot to ask him if it were loaded or not. Do you know anything about revolvers?”

“Should rather think I did,” was the response. “Let us have a try.” As he spoke he took the weapon out of my hand, and soon solved the doubt, as he discharged a ringing shot over the ship’s side.

The report brought two or three of the stewards to where we stood, wanting to know what the noise was about.

“Did ye think I had killed yer grandmother?” answered the youth very rudely. Then as he saw the purser coming along, he changed his tone, and commenced to explain the situation, asseverating very strongly that the revolver would be in far better hands if the lady would give it to him.

As no one made any reply to this, Master C. addressed himself directly to me. “It is a jolly good revolver,” he said, “and no use to a woman. Come now, I’ll give yer five dollars for it; that’s a fair deal!”

“I have told you that Mr Z. has made me a present of this revolver; pray restore it.”

As the young gentleman seemed more than unwilling to part with this, his neighbour’s property, the purser intervened, and speedily simplified the proceedings.

He rapped the boy’s head, hurled him aside, and held the revolver in his own hands, within a minute of time; and then in a calm, deliberate manner he showed me how to manage this murderous little instrument.

“You had better let your _mozo_ carry this for you,” said this good-natured gentleman. “I think I have a little case somewhere which this will fit into. I will look at once, as early to-morrow we reach La Libertad, and I shall be busy.” So saying, he withdrew.

The day and the night passed, and the early morning found me fast asleep when the port of La Libertad was reached and left. As soon as I made my appearance on deck, one of the stewards accosted me, as he pointed to the canvas bag which had come on board with Mr Z.

“The gentleman left his compliments for you, madam,” he said; “and I was to give you these cocoa-nuts. Mr Z. thought you might like them. Mr Z. would like to have shaken hands with you, but he would not have you called. He told me to say that he hoped you would have a good journey, and to be sure and get provisions wherever you can.”

This was the first and last I have seen of Mr Z., but I shall always have a kindly remembrance of this sympathising eccentric fellow-traveller.

La Union was to be our next port, and in consequence the whole of the C. family were in a state of high excitement, as this was their point of debarkation. Great was the scrubbing and dressing; and as some of their old clothes were cast into the sea, I rescinded the wish of my heart,—viz., that the accordion would be assigned to the deep in their company. Much as we all had suffered from that instrument, and often as we had vowed vengeance against it, I don’t think any one even shivered as the eldest C. girl performed “Home, sweet home” for the last time. It was an “adieu” to us in a manner, and they were going home to “father.” The children looked softened, too, as they were put into fresh raiment; and Master C. was so civil to me that I made over the bag of cocoa-nuts to him and his on the spot.

Amapala was the next port, so I made my arrangements, and we were all in marching order when, some hours later, we stood opposite La Union.

Like most places on this coast, La Union appeared to be an assemblage of red-tiled roofs, built in groups, the gaps being filled up by dwarf, green shrubs, and here and there by a tall palm-tree: the shore low and sandy, and looking as if quite ready to slip into the sea on the smallest provocation. This is a place of some magnitude, however, and is more regularly built farther in the interior. A good deal of trade is done here, and La Union holds the reputation of being an improving and progressive town.

The boats going to and from the port to a ship is, I think, always an object of interest to the seafarers, even if there is nothing concerned but a passing interest in the scene. On this occasion I looked across the water with more than ordinary curiosity, as the anxiety displayed by the C. family to greet the husband and father had quite enlisted my sympathies. Several boats had come to the ship’s side, conveying merchandise and visitors, but no Mr C. put in an appearance.

The patience of the younger girl was becoming exhausted, and she had just fetched her breath for a scream, when a sailor came on the poop, and presented a letter to Mrs C., the mother. This was to tell her that Mr C. was far away up the country, but that he had deputed the vice-consul to meet her and her children, and that apartments would be ready for her in La Union.

The poor woman was at once disappointed and relieved. Very soon a large boat was waiting at the ship’s side. A nice pleasant-looking man stepped on board, and it was announced that he had come, as requested, to fetch away Mrs C.

Whilst the luggage was being put in the boat, the consul held a little chat with me, and offered to take me over with them to see La Union, and partake of the hospitality of his house. There would be a difficulty about my return, and the time was very short, so I was obliged to decline the favour. All over the world the American men are particularly kind to lone females, and I scored this gentleman as one example more on my list.

After a short conference with the captain, the consul and his charges took their departure. Mrs C.’s blue feather and the redoubtable accordion perched on a mountain of baggage were the last we saw of this family. Now for Amapala.

“I shall order a particularly good dinner on your account, as you will dine before you leave us,” said Captain C., laughing. “What do you like best? You know it will be long before you get a decent meal again.”

This hard fact had by this time been pretty well impressed upon me; but as I am not one to “suck sorrow through the long tube,” I replied, “Do not discourage a lone female, if you please; other people have passed through rough travelling, and why should not I?”

The captain was too kind-hearted to intentionally cause me any alarm, but recommended the only working part of the Honduras railway—that which runs from San Pedro Sula to Puerto Cortez—as the most direct route to get _out_ of the country.

We were seated at the promised good dinner when the port of Amapala was reached. “Mr Bahl, the consul, will come on board,” somebody said. “Don’t hurry; he will take his time, and so will we.”

Apparently the consul did take his time, for we waited long before the custom-house boat put off from the shore. As it came nearer, we saw that two persons occupied it, a little white man, and a very large and very black man.

“The consul is not coming this time,” said an officer; “here’s his clerk and the captain.”

“Captain who?” I could not help repeating.

“Oh,” laughed the purser, “that black fellow is called ‘captain’ on account of his warlike performances. He has fought, he says, in three of the revolutions in which this country delighted to revel some years ago; and, according to his own account, he was the means of routing the enemy on more than one occasion.”

“Do you believe this?”

“Not a word. The captain is an awful fellow to brag, but he can work and does work; I will say that for him.”

“What brings him here?” I ask.

“He is the consul’s servant, and I daresay has been sent to fetch or carry something for the custom-house. I hope to goodness he has brought some fresh fish,” continued the purser. “Have you your letter of introduction to Mr Bahl? As he is not here, you had better send it to the clerk. That gentleman is transacting some business with Captain C. just now, but I will see about it.”

Presently up came the clerk. He was a dapper little man with a large white face, which did not impress me very favourably as to the salubrity of Amapala. I found, however, on conversing further, that he was ready to vouch that Amapala was a perfect sanitarium. “Fever! yah—no!” exclaimed he, in drawled out English. “People die! Yes, some time all must; but fever here—ah, no, no!”

“Nor snakes neither,” interposed the chief engineer, with a wink at his neighbour.

“Nor yet snakes—no, no; mountain-leopards, one or two—never seen—all nonsense.”

“But these mountain-leopards _used_ to be called tigers,” persisted the engineer. “Why, that mountain over there is still called the Mountain of Tigers—_La Montaña de los Tigres_. You have it in both languages.”

The little clerk would not admit the tigers, and knew nothing about the reason why the mountain indicated should bear such an ominous name. I was now told that my departure would be a matter of five minutes only; and I employed these in bidding farewell to the captain and officers of the good steamer Clyde. God bless them all, wherever they may be now. They were very, very kind to “Soltera.”

When I was seated in the boat, the little clerk told me that I would have to spend a night, or perhaps two nights, in Amapala. The consul was a bachelor, and his sister-in-law was unfortunately away on a visit. “I will give the note when we land; I don’t think the office will be closed,” said he.

When we did land, it was quite dark. The black man took the luggage out of the boat, wading with it to the shore, for the boat could not come quite up to the landing-place. This done, he seized me as if I had been a cat, without word or sign, and from his strong arms I was deposited on the strand of Amapala.

“Wait, wait a bit, ya-ar,” said this huge porter. “Clerk him gone into office to talk to consul, let him read letter. You brought letter ’troduction, eh?”

“Yes. I hope I shall not have to wait long.”

“No; consul read letter, and send him ar-ders.”

I suppose the consul did read the letter, for the clerk came out, and, poking in the dark to find me, said—

“The consul will write or send to you early in the morning: the only decent _posada_ in Amapala is close here. You had better leave your heavy luggage in the office; I will take care of it. Now, captain, take the lady’s portmanteau.”

My black friend shouldered the portmanteau, and with—“You follow me close; I all right; you trust me; I as good as English,”—I threaded my way through what in courtesy must be called the streets of Amapala. The _posada_ was not quite so near as I had thought; and as soon as we had quite quitted the shore the black man said, “You wa-ant to go into the country, over the mountains?”

“Yes, I wish to get off as quickly as possible.”

“Have you got serva-ant? I know good serva-ant, speak English wa-al; he knows all over the country—is strong—good cook. But it will cost you money, ah.”

“Will it?” I replied quickly, for I saw at once what he was driving at; “I do not intend going beyond a certain sum, and——”

“Wha-at will you call that sum in dollars?”

“Never you mind, you are the consul’s cook, and this is of no import to you.”

“Ah, ya-as, ya-as; but if you make it worth while to ta-ake me ’long, you find it will be good. I know country—I respettable serva-ant.”

We had arrived at the _posada_ by this time. Only one door was open, and within could be seen, by the light of a solitary candle, a long brown table on which some glasses stood.

A figure came forth from behind this barrier. He was a nice-looking lad, and was, moreover, that _rara avis_, a very clean-looking lad.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said to the black.

“Ya-as. I bring this lady here. Consul sent me with her, ’cause I speak English so well. Great comfa-art, have man about you that knows well how to speak English!” continued this conceited fellow, turning to me.

“Will you arrange for me to have a decent room and some refreshment presently?” said I. “Where is the woman of the house? I wish to speak to her.”

“Oh no, I arrange,” continued the black man. “You see I speak English.”

“But I suppose the hostess speaks Spanish,” I replied, cutting him short; and in that language I asked the lad to go and find her.

He did so, and a tall pleasant-looking woman returned with him. She said she could supply me with what I required, and then the question of charges came under discussion.

The “captain” here intervened and meddled to such an extent, that the lad, evidently annoyed at his bad manners, said, “Hold thy tongue; the Señora understands pretty well the language; she knows what is right to pay.”

I really did not know, but I felt grateful to the youth for endeavouring to quench this nuisance, and so answered that the consul knew that I would pay what was just. Then I gave this very disagreeable porter a peseta (English, tenpence) for carrying the portmanteau, and very heartily gave him good night.

Two men came in as the “captain” went out, and we were much amused to hear him informing them of the charge he was taking of the English lady. “Grand thing to speak English,” I heard him say in that language, as he finally took himself off.

The men naturally scanned me after this remark, but respectfully and without showing any curiosity. They ordered “vino blanco,” and sat themselves down to smoke.

“Pray excuse our taking you through the wine-shop,” said the landlady, “but we have mislaid the key of the other door. It will be found to-morrow. See, Eduardo, take that box into the room for the lady.”

A lantern was brought, and we passed through the back of the bar, and came out upon a wide verandah, which was bordered by a narrow strip of garden bounded by a high wall.

We entered the guest-chamber. Had I been qualifying for prison life, here was an opportunity for commencing an apprenticeship. The room was large, the aperture for the window closed by a heavy shutter with a bar across it; red tiles, discoloured by dirt and grease, composed the floor, and the dust lay in little heaps in some of the ridges of the most uneven ones. A bed covered by a bull’s hide in place of a mattress, and a leathern pillow, were the correct thing here to serve as a place of rest. A wooden table placed against the wall, and a rocking-chair in fair condition, completed the furniture. Not a vestige of toilet-ware of any sort; not a drop of water nor any towel.

The lad deposited the portmanteau on the floor, and as this cheerful apartment was pervaded by a frowsy smell, I asked him to open the shutter. He hesitated, and looked inquiringly at the landlady. Not understanding the reason of this, I said—

“There are iron bars, or a lattice, behind the shutter; nobody can get in; I want air.”

“No, no,” answered the landlady; “but at night, it was possible—very rare—once in a lifetime—a _serpiente_ (snake) might crawl through.”

“Keep the shutter close then,” I replied with energy. “I did not think snakes came so near the houses. How dreadful!”

The boy explained that about a fortnight before a small _serpiente_ had crawled one hot night through the lattice-bars, and descended into this chamber. “There was a large growth of thick damp herbage under the wall on that side,” he said, “and it might be that a snake’s hole was there.”

“But why on earth is it not cleared or burnt out?” said I; “it is very dangerous for every one to let the herbage remain there.”

“Quien sabe?” he replied; and then the opposite door was pointed out to me as being the one through which I could enter from the street. This was a very strong door, but it was unlocked, the key being missing, as I was told on my arrival. There was a latch, by which the occupant could open it when the impediment enforced by the lock should be removed.

The landlady proposed to fetch a sheet and a pillow-slip, and then she added, with an air of triumph, “I shall bring you some tea—only think—tea. I know the English like that. What I have is very good, a present from an Englishman: he was hard to wait on, and he abused everything, but he had a good heart, Señora, and he gave me two pounds of beautiful tea.”

“That was for your own drinking?”

“No, I don’t like it much. The Englishman said,—he was a coarse man, Señora,—he would leave it for me to give to any poor devil of his country who might come to stay here.”

She laughed as if it was the finest joke, and never seemed to perceive the sarcasm which might be veiled in the guise of this speech and present: under the circumstances I was very glad to represent the “poor devil.” She went out laughing heartily, and the boy and I and the lantern were left alone.

“Can you get me a little water?” I asked him, and a—here I could not summon the Spanish for basin, so I had recourse to signs.

“Oh yes, I know—wash face; leave it to me, I will bring what you want. I waited on an American lady once in travelling, and she liked much water,” and as he spoke, he darted off with the lantern. I sat down on the bed, hoping that the tea would be brought quickly, and wondering what the beverage would be like.

The landlady returned with a candlestick in one hand in which was set up a large wax candle; under her arm was bundled the promised bed-linen, which, rather to my surprise, was clean and fine, the upper hem of the sheet being bordered with wide lace. The pillow-slip was trimmed in like manner; and when the bed was made up and a scarlet coverlet thrown over all, the bed-place really looked like a bright spot in this desert, and I began to expect other improvements.

Time brought the tea, and very good it proved. The English gentleman had evidently taught the hostess how to make use of his gift. The boy, too, brought toilet-ware piece by piece in spasms, and lastly a large red earthen jar full of water. He had fetched it from a well close at hand, and it was delightfully pure and fresh.

The lad withdrew, and then returning to the door summoned the landlady. A great whispering went on for some minutes: at length my hostess returned, and said in rather a mysterious manner, “You are going to Comayagua, are you not?”

“I shall pass through that town,” I answered; “but why do you ask?”

“Oh, the boy comes from that part, and he does not want to remain in Amapala. Why not take him as your _mozo_? He is a good lad, and I would like to get him a place.”

“He is in your employ, is he not?” I asked.

“What you may call employ, yes; but there is nothing to do for a lad like him. He sells wine for me, true; but I cannot pay him—trade very dull, and very few come to stay at this _posada_. The lad only lives by doing a little tailoring here and there.”

I thought this plan might do, as the landlady seemed so independent of Eduardo’s services. She proceeded to give him a good character, and I promised that the consul’s opinion should be taken on the matter. Good night was given, and I went to the door to fasten it after the woman’s departure. It was closed by a latch; but it was perfectly innocent of either lock or bolt. There was nothing for it but to put the handle of my tooth-brush across the latch, and within it; and retire to bed with trust in Providence.

The next day came a note from Mr Bahl, telling me that I must wait one day at the _posada_, and he would arrange everything for my travelling onward; the lad Eduardo was required to attend at the office, if I would signify my intention of engaging him; and would I call early the day afterwards?

Little to do, nothing to see; heat and mosquitoes to endure,—such was the portion of the waiting-hours. At the dinner-time I went into the dining-room, thinking it would be well to eat something substantial, and a number of dishes on the table seemed to offer a choice.

Variety there was, and very unappetising variety. The soup, called chicken-broth, was nothing better than drowned hen; and the meat, cut in strips, looked like leathern sandals from the remotest antiquity. Everything that could be chopped up was chopped up; vegetables which would have passed muster had they been served whole, were tormented into squash, and little black beans in yellow dishes were the only edibles which, owing to their small size, had escaped the universal carnage.

Some persons present, however, did justice to this feast. Long may there be found some to do so! For myself, I was thankful when the time arrived to pay a visit to the consul.