CHAPTER VI.

Mr Z., the custom-house officer, handed me out of the boat and conducted me into his dwelling. This was a low thatched house, separated only by a mound and a damp patch of grass from the edge of the creek. The entrance opened upon the principal room, which was a combination of reception and store room. The sides of the boarded walls were fitted up with tiers of wooden shelves, and on these lay packages of all shapes and sizes. Bales of cocoa-nut fibre seemed to predominate; and several layers of cow-hides made great show on the low shelves. Bushels of what I supposed to be grain, or seeds, were huddled here and there; and a great heap of white beans, and a measure on the top of it, entirely filled one corner.

The ground was the usual earthen floor, stamped as hard as iron, and depressed here and there; so much so, that it required some attention to walk safely over it.

A handsome hammock, slung from the rafters of the roofing, and a wooden table, were all the furniture of this department. For ornament there was hanging on a nail a large-sized embroidery frame; upon the canvas of this was in course of representation a very gay macaw contemplating some remarkably fine grapes. A Berlin-wool-work pattern was displayed open on a nail higher up, and thus could be seen in its entirety the magnitude of the macaw’s temptation.

The custom-house officer, following the direction of my eye, said “_Mi sposa_,—that is her work.” Somebody came to the aperture which divided this apartment from an inner one. This was _mi sposa_, a pretty Indian girl, who appeared to be many years younger than her lord, and who was followed by a still younger girl, whom she presented to me as her sister. They both wore the _nagua_ costume, though it differed a little from the strict Mexican style. The _nagua_ costume consists of a chemise, very fully plaited at the arms and round the shoulders, leaving the throat bare. A thick strand of hair generally furnishes the back expanse between the nape of the neck and the shoulders, and a shapely bodice of some bright colour covers the person to the waist. The Mexican girl here indulges in petticoats of various lengths till the feet are reached; but these Hondureian women were content with one short garment, comely enough, but not so picturesque; and they lacked the silver ornaments and embroidery which add so much to the “make up” of the Mexican lady.

The beautiful eyes and shapely feet of the custom-house officer’s wife, however, were attractive enough; and her cultivated voice and elegant pronunciation showed that she had received some education. I pointed to her work-frame, and asked her where she had learnt to embroider.

“A la escuela, muy buena escuela,” she replied (at school, a very good school); and added, in her beautiful idiom, “my husband is English; he married me because I have had some education.”

And for more than that, thought I, as I glanced at this elegant creature; but I looked very serious and practical, and remarked in reply that “education is a grand thing for everybody.”

“Ah, yes,” cut in the younger sister, “when it is properly applied.”

I was so astonished at this remark, from such a person and in such a place, that I was startled into asking her what she meant.

“I mean that very wicked things are often done by educated people,” returned the damsel, with a jerk of her head. “I have my reasons,” she continued, “but I will not say more.”

“Very wicked things are often done,” I replied, “by people who profess much religion; we must not judge by individuals. These matters must be viewed in a broad and general way.”

“No doubt the Señora is right,” was the answer; “but I have my reasons. Ah, I have heard some fine tales, about people from Europe too!”

I daresay she had; but the subject dropped as the sister asked me to go into her room and take off my hat. “You will sleep here,” said she, indicating the hammock with her hand, “and the _guarda costa_ will look to your _mozo_.”

“The _guarda costa_—what is that?”

“See here,” she answered, opening the door, which had been kept fast closed for coolness’ sake; “these are the _guarda costa_” (coastguard).

A few very fine-looking men, some in shirts and drawers, some with jackets in addition, and all bearing muskets of a very old-fashioned pattern, were walking to and fro. One of them, a remarkably strong-looking man, kept regular pace, and tramped up and down with the regularity of a British sentinel.

Mr Z. here joined us. He said, “This is the man I propose to send with you to-morrow. Will you speak with me when you have taken off your hat? I want to tell you what I have done for the journey.”

I retired with the Señora. Her bedroom was boarded off from the room we had quitted, and quite as miserable in its accommodations as the rest of the dwelling.

On returning to the outer room, Mr Z. asked me to buy the animals required for the journey, and named a price, which even I, in my inexperience, knew to be exorbitant, and said so.

“The price of mules has risen considerably,” urged Mr Z.; “they are so much required in the mining districts now.”

“Very possibly, but I will not _buy_ any mules; I shall be happy to _hire_ those you have as far as Arimesine. Mr Bahl told you in his note the price I ought to give.”

There was no more to be said to this, and the wife proposed that we should go out and see the animals.

A coast-guard-man brought round a small chestnut mare, a nice-looking creature, but “weedy” withal.

“There,” said the custom-house officer, “is the one I have arranged that you shall ride. That belongs to _mi sposa_; it is a great pet; _mi sposa_ often goes long distances on her without attendance.”

In the meadow was a very nice-looking _macho_ (male mule), which was pointed out as being the one for Eduardo’s use.

“Where is the baggage-mule?” I inquired.

“Oh, he will come round in the morning. He is resting in a stable close by.” Abel, the man who was to go with us, grinned. I thought there was some mystery here.

The early dawn, which is lovely in this country, brought with its first glimmer coast-guard-men, the mare, the mule, and the baggage-mule; the latter we were particularly delighted to see. To my amusement Mr Z. offered to sell me the three at a considerable abatement of the price urged the day before. Fortunately I adhered to my resolution of hiring only.

On being mounted, I found that the pommel of the saddle was fixed immovably on the left side. There was no time to alter this, and in consequence, on setting off, I began to realise that it was anything but pleasant to ride faster than a walk at first.

“Never fear, Señora,” said Abel at length; “we have a long way to go, and if we are to arrive at Arimesine to-night we must get on a little faster.”

Being accustomed, or nearly so, to the motion induced by the difference between the English and Spanish way of mounting, my confidence returned, and I declared myself ready to increase the speed.

“Wait till we turn off to the left, Señora; there will be more shade, and then we can get on well,” Abel remarked encouragingly.

Eduardo had ridden a good deal in advance; as he neared the road turning to the left, we saw the baggage-mule suddenly break loose from his hold, and dart at full speed among the trees, Eduardo following as hard as he could gallop.

This made the mare a little restive, but Abel’s strong arm subdued her. “Let us turn into the left path,” said he; “you will have to dismount and wait whilst I go on. The baggage-mule has bolted.”

Turning into the road on the left, which was little more than a bridle-path through shrubs and nice soft grass, the man dismounted me, at the same time tying the mare to a low bush. There was plenty of grass, and so this one of the party, at least, was very much at ease.

“You won’t mind being left a short time,” said Abel; “it is quite safe. I had better follow Eduardo quick. Ah, it was time,” he said, returning with something in his hand. It was my dressing-comb, in two parts; and full of dirt and sand.

I accompanied him a little way, and had the pleasure of picking up one of my slippers, part of a little book, and many other things with which my handbag had been packed. Further on lay my long tin box, unfastened, indeed, but stove in by what was unmistakably a violent kick in the wrong direction.

“Ah,” said Abel, contemplating this, “the mule is wild; he has rushed against the trees, and the baggage has got loose; I hope there is no accident. Señora, I am sorry to leave you alone, but I had better get on to Eduardo.”

So he sped away at a flying swing-trot, and I was left literally to pick up the pieces.

A little further on was what I recognised to be a shirt which I had bought at Señor Bahl’s store to present to Eduardo. The boy was so delighted with it, that he had said he would wear it when he arrived at Comayagua to visit his friends. Here it was, then, in pieces, and a part of it torn quite out. The ground bore marks of hoofs in all directions.

All the little things I had collected for refreshment on the road were destroyed without mercy. Here some biscuits ground to powder, and amalgamating freely with mother earth; there some plantains and bananas reduced to pulp; in another place was my tin of portable soup, stove in, and almost unrecognisable.

Fortunately, perhaps, I had so much to do in getting these fragments together, that I had scarcely time to think how unlucky this first start of mine had been. Two hours at least would have been wasted, and there would be no time for rest in the middle of the day. Having gathered together all I could find, I sat down on a large stone close to the mare, with the collection by my side, and with anything but satisfaction in my mind.

Half an hour must have passed, and then the mare began to fidget and look about her. She had heard voices, and she almost tried to put down her head on my shoulder. It has been said that she was a pet animal; and really her action seemed to say, “Don’t you hear that?”

I by this time had heard the voices distinctly; so I stood up beside the animal and waited for the speakers.

Round a little winding projection, which jutted out on the principal path, came two quiet-looking men towards me. Lifting his _sombrero_ (that ugly thing, the hat proper, is unknown in Honduras), the elder of them said, “We are sent to help you, Señora, English lady. We have met Abel and the _mozo_. Mule very bad—very savage; won’t allow itself to be loaded again. Abel thought you would allow us to take you on. We are woodcutters, and Abel knows us.”

I turned to mount, the younger lad helping me. As I did so, I expressed a hope that Eduardo was not hurt.

“No; he is a good rider, and the other mule behaved well. But how are you to get on—_quien sabe_? That mule is _el demonio_ himself.”

The men took the long box between them, and a parcel was made of the _débris_. We soon reached Abel and the lad, who were sitting on a little bank. The riding-mule was browsing calmly enough; the baggage-animal was tied to a tree, and was still stamping with rage.

“What are we to do?” I inquired in despair. “Had we not better go back?”

“We will try and see if the baggage-mule will bear loading again,” said Abel; “it would be such a loss to return. We will try.”

The four men approached the offender, and were most gentle in their treatment. All was to no purpose. As soon as he felt the load on his back, he started violently, and rushed against the tree, with the determined purpose of pushing it off. Abel now pulled out his handkerchief and blindfolded the animal.

This had the effect of quieting it, and as it was nearly exhausted from kicking, the load was replaced without much exhibition of feeling on the sufferer’s part.

Everything being packed, we went on our way, one of the woodcutters undertaking to lead the refractory mule. As long as we went slowly all was satisfactory; but the moment we attempted to get out of a walk the mule showed fight. Even the baggage was of no avail.

The woodcutters were obliged to leave us; they had their work in another direction, and they could not lose time. “I am very sorry—very much ashamed,” said the elder, with emphasis on the last word, “that the custom-house officer should have let you hire that beast. It is a robbery; the mule is not half broken; it is quite young, and I do not think it has carried a load more than thrice in its life.”

“Abel has not told me that,” said I.

“How should he? He is a soldier, and he has to obey the customs officer; he must not speak; but he knows as well as I do that the creature does not belong to the customs officer. Señor Z. has hired it from a charcoal-burner who lives near him, and I have no doubt he has made a good thing of it. You have paid beforehand?”

“Yes; I have hired these three animals to take us to Arimesine.”

“May you get there to-night! _Adios, Señora; muchas gracias_,” as I put a trifle in his hand. Thus speaking, our two assistants wended their way.

The situation was certainly very unsatisfactory, and Abel’s replies to my inquiries did not tend to enliven matters. “At this rate,” the man said, “we shall never reach Arimesine to-night; and I am under orders to bring back the animals early to-morrow morning.”

“But the delay is entirely your master’s fault; he had no right to give me an unbroken animal to carry the baggage. If we cannot reach Arimesine to-night, what are we to do?”

“We must stay at a place called Goascaron; the head-man there will take you in. He is an Italian doctor, and keeps a store. Oh, _muy bruta—muy bruta_!” (horrid brute) broke off Abel, as the mule turned sharp round and literally ploughed the earth with its feet, refusing to stir, though Eduardo dragged it with all his strength.

Here was a nice state of things! It was equally impossible to advance or retire. Fortunately, as we were consulting whether we really ought to return to Aceituña, we met a countryman, who was riding a nice-looking mule. To him Abel hastened with all speed. A short conference, and matters were to go on well-oiled wheels I hoped. The baggage was transferred from the refractory baggage-mule to the consul’s riding-mule, and the countryman lent his animal for our use. Then our rampageous friend was given over to the man’s keeping, and some arrangement was made as to how this treasure was to be restored to his owner. It was disgusting to see him go off as meek as a mouse the moment that he was led away.

“These creatures are very wise,” Abel said; “that brute knows as well as I do that he has had the best of it. I know that man: he is going to take it to a stable.” Then he continued with a grin, “The master won’t like our turning Carlos into a baggage-mule, though.”

“The master has behaved very badly throughout. Are you really obliged to take the mules back in the night?”

“I must obey orders, Señora; I am a soldier.”

“We have lost so much time, that I am sure I cannot ride to Arimesine; under the best circumstances it would have been a long stretch. Very well; I will stop at Goascaron, and I shall write to Consul Bahl and tell him how badly Mr Z. has behaved. He must have known that we could not reach Arimesine to-night.”

“I cannot say, Señora; but it is a great many leagues off.”

“How many?”

Abel could not tell. In this country it is equally impossible to ascertain correctly either the length of a distance or the time of day. A wholesale importation of clocks and milestones would certainly prove a national benefit in this direction.

The sun was now fierce, and we had quitted the shade of the forest and scattered trees. Eduardo dismounted and offered Abel his turn to ride; but this strong, cheery man declined. “Let me ride when I am tired,” he said. “I will stay by the Señora; it is very tiresome for her to use a saddle with the pommel placed on the side opposite to the one she is accustomed to; the mare, too, is fidgety.”

So she was. A passing bird, a stray cow tearing at a hedge, all startled her; and farther on, when we met a drove of mules, she rushed into the middle of it, turning round and round, and exhibiting a strong inclination to bolt. Abel explained that horses have in general a very strong dislike to stranger-mules; for this reason—they are seldom stabled together. The mare agreed very well with the mules at home, because they were accustomed to each other and had been reared together.

We got on, however, at a fair speed, halting two hours afterwards by a pretty running stream to take some refreshment. Eduardo sought among the huts of the country village near, and succeeded in obtaining some milk, _tortillas_, and a delicious water-melon.

The men went to a little distance to smoke, and I took advantage of the opportunity to bathe my feet in the lovely stream. They were burning from my wearing black boots, a most unwise article of dress to adopt in tropical countries. I had a little tin case, containing a square of soap, which, fortunately, was in my pocket, and so it escaped the devastation caused by the baggage-mule; and with thankfulness for this comfort, I revelled in the pebbly delicious water.

The painter of river scenery can nowhere in the wide world find more charming subjects for his brush than the lovely water-courses of Spanish Honduras. The cascades among the mountains are simply magnificent, and deserve to be classed among the finest in any land. The lowest and dirtiest of villages in the interior can generally show a beautiful running stream in its midst; and it is, I think, in consequence of this, that typhoid fever and blood-poisoning are unknown.

These pests are not at this time the correct thing to die of in Honduras, as appears to be the case in our own land. Can it be that polluted water is in reality the mainspring of half the ailments of the English people? My fervent wish for Honduras is that she may ever deserve her name. _Hondo_, being interpreted, means a pond or brook; and the brooks of this fair region are so pure and health-giving, that when the iron hand of progress penetrates here, may its mission be other than that of tainting, for commercial greed, the life of a country.

Ah, how many in our own England turn to spirits and to beer, because the only water to which they have access is poisoned by chemical drugs, or is made the receptacle of all foul things!

A weary ride in burning sun and over rough road brought us to the outskirts of Goascaron. My strength was nearly spent, owing to the badness of the road and the uneasy motion caused by the manner of riding.

Strong, kind Abel more than once carried me over the smaller streams; for, as the darkness came on, the mare plunged unsteadily, and sometimes carried me into very deep water. The heat, too, had been very prostrating; and so it was with a feeling of relief that I heard a clear incisive voice call out, “Is that the lady from Aceituña?” Eduardo had ridden on in advance, and the Italian doctor was standing at his side waiting to receive us.