CHAPTER VIII.

We travelled a few miles in silence, for the men were evidently languid from the want of sleep, and I was too much engrossed by the beauty of the scenery, and in admiration of the glorious country through which we were passing, to need conversation. Luisa, the mule, carried me well, and her even pace left me at liberty to enjoy the sweet air of these magnificent Hondureian mountains, so little known to the outside world, and so little appreciated by those who dwell around them.

[Illustration: PASS BEYOND GOASOARON.]

Here, rock, wood, tree, shrub, and water are on a grand scale—all, so to speak, the best of their kind; and the humble wild flowers, adorning the far-stretching fertile valleys which slope between the clefts, are rich in colour, and far from wanting in perfume. The varying lights—the glimmering opal and the deep purple haze alternating with the fairest blue of the heaven and the blackest depth of the cloud—as we passed on our way, presented a scene, the like of which I had never seen before, and never expect to see again.

I may write, perhaps, with some partiality; for what the sea is to many, the mountains are to me. I was born amongst them, in the grand Pyrenees, and so I am their daughter. When sickness of body and sorrow of heart fall upon me, I will arise and flee to the mountains. My strength surely comes from them.

We ascended higher, and in the elastic air the men became refreshed, and as hunger and noonday approached, we agreed to halt. There was a _hacienda_ picturesquely built in a cleft of the ranges. To this we wended our way, and were glad to see the chestnut-trees stretching grandly in front of this demesne. Here was shelter for the animals, since the grass and shade were deep all around; and we human beings could sling a hammock on the lowest branches of the fine trees.

The baggage-mule was disencumbered of my hammock and the little bag of provisions only.

“We have only a short time,” said Marcos; “and as it is her first day’s journey she will not be distressed if she is not unladen until night.”

Soon after, the lady of the _hacienda_ came out. “My servants saw you camping,” she said with a charming smile. “We have illness in the house, and so my cousin and I have come to pay our compliments here. I regret that I cannot ask you under my roof.”

The young lady alluded to as “my cousin” was a most lovely daughter of old Spain, about fifteen years of age. She said little, but seemed interested to meet, for the first time in her life (it appeared), an English lady, travelling through Spanish Honduras.

This simple courteous welcome quite relieved me; for I confess I had felt somewhat abashed at walking, literally with bag and baggage, into a stranger’s territory, and using it as if it were an inn.

“I will send you some milk and coffee,” the lady said; “and after that, I would recommend you to take a _siesta_. You seem to have good guides and animals. Ah, you want them in these parts! _Adios._”

The milk and coffee, so liberally promised, came by the hand of a _mozo_ of the place. He told us that his mistress possessed large herds of cattle; indeed, as far as eye could range, the fields and slopes were dotted thickly with kine. Then after helping me into the hammock, this _mozo_ laid himself down between my two companions, and the whole three of them slept soundly with only the fallen timber for a pillow. I, in my more elevated position, simply rested, and bestowed a benison upon the soul who first invented the hammock.

Exactly as two hours had passed, Marcos was on his feet. A muleteer is warranted to awake at any moment, and so he almost always does. It is the only action of punctuality in the whole republic.

The _mozo_ gave us a helping hand, and we started at a good round pace for Arimesine. It was nearly dark when we rode up to the principal house in this place. The village was merely a broken square of thatched and yellow-washed hovels; the principal one was _posada_, general store, and forage “emporium” combined. Nothing of interest here, as my journal runs:—

“Reached Arimesine at seven. Passed a fairly good night, as the woman of the house possessed some notions of propriety. Quite in clover, for I had a railed-off space wherein to swing my hammock, divided from the public room by my travelling rug and a shawl hung on a high clothes-horse. The men slept in the verandah. There was a white basin in the establishment, and Eduardo got this filled with water, and in a manner I managed to wash.”

We were on our way very early the next morning, and travelled at a good pace. The country had become a little more broken, and foliage in great luxuriance was beginning to disappear. Marcos gathered me some bunches of the quinine tree, which is a graceful shrub in all its stages. The flower is white, and is in shape a cross between the pentstemon of our gardens and the stephanotis. The latter lovely parasite we saw at various intervals in great profusion. The peculiarity in the growth of the stephanotis is that it requires a background of some other climber to support it, and at the same time give it a slight protection from the sun. Thus aided, the plant will reach to an immense height, and I have seen it winding round the trunks of large trees, and spreading rich bunches of its blossoms far and wide, even if it have the slenderest stem of some other parasite round which to wind itself. Quite alone, the plant usually shrivels up, and at best deteriorates.

As we rode onward the sandy ridges became toilsome to the mules’ feet, and it was here that we first found a specimen of the water-giving plants of the country. Eduardo recognised it instantly, and as he cut its thick stringy stem with his _machete_, a watery fluid oozed out, which had rather a sweet taste. The _mozo_ had forgotten the name of this plant, but said it was common in Honduras. He mentioned another of rarer species, which he termed _peligroso_ (dangerous) and which from its description must, I think, have referred to the _Mimersopa balata_, an india-rubber water-giving plant.

A story is told that a Frenchman passing through Guiana met with this curious production of nature. The coolness of the fluid as he tasted it induced him, as a precautionary measure, to qualify it with some kind of alcohol. The juice of the shrub coagulated in the unfortunate traveller’s stomach, and after a time of intense suffering he died. An examination took place, and it was found that the internal organs were literally closed up by india-rubber.

Thus it should be well understood by travellers in tropical countries that every care must be taken in the use of these wonderful vegetable alleviators of human misery—thirst.

The increasing heat, and the disappointment of not being able to meet with any refreshment in any one of the cottages which we passed, were making us all feel more or less out of sorts. Passing a narrow rivulet, I asked Marcos to fill me the gourd-shell, which wayfarers here always carry at their girdle, with water. “I am so thirsty,” I said; “please attend to me quick.”

Instead of complying with my request, the man turned round, and resolutely refused. “Not a drop, Señora,” said he; “it would hurt you. Your muleteer must not let you drink here; it would be bad for your health.”

“Why, Marcos?”

“Because, Señora, the bottom of this rivulet is muddy; there is no sand nor gravel; and look—see! you would not like to risk swallowing one of these!” He pointed to a plant near the mule’s hoof: it was covered with dark-brown blossoms, which turned out, on inspection, to be leeches.

“No, no,” said Marcos,—“not of this for you, Señora, nor for Eduardo, or the beasts. I know my duty.”

I was sure that he did; and though my thirst was great, I said no more on the water question, but instead I proposed that we should share a bottle of wine, which Don Graciano had generously given me, as he said, “for emergencies.”

The bottle was soon produced from the canvas saddle-bags carried by the baggage-mule, speedily uncorked, and a draught poured out for me. No sooner had I tasted it than I returned the gourd to Marcos, with an expression of disgust.

Marcos tasted, and then did Eduardo: wry faces and sputtering were the immediate effects of the taste of the potion on both.

The matter soon explained itself. The heat of the sun and the jogging pace had turned the wine into very strong and very stringent vinegar. There was no help for it, and it was decided that we had better get on to San Juan del Norte as fast as possible.

We had met a peasant in the morning, on his way to work in a maize-field: he directed us to San Juan del Norte, as being a good station whereat to pass the night and replenish our commissariat, which was becoming very low. It was therefore with great vigour that we pushed on to San Juan del Norte.

The character of the land had now greatly changed, and we passed through marshy grassland, which presented no interesting features, and was very heavy for the mules’ feet. We travelled through this for some time, and a thick soft rain, which fell with the dusk, did not improve matters. At length, in a downpour, we did reach San Juan del Norte, Eduardo having ridden forward to secure accommodation, and search out the most decent dwelling.

I saw by the expression of the lad’s face, as we rode into a little square of mean houses, that he was far from being delighted with the quarters which necessity had forced upon us. “It is a dreadful place, Señora,” said he, in a whisper; “I have been to two houses, but this old woman’s seems the best.”

I looked round before dismounting, and perceived an old woman, who might be any age she liked to call herself after seventy, with white hair, and a very handsome pair of black eyes and eyebrows. She was followed by a train of men, who might be her sons and grandsons; and beyond these were several girls, mostly of the lowest class, who stared with all their might, but said nothing. These were waiting to see me dismount.

Whether the cause was fatigue, combined with the long fast and the damp, I never could explain, for I had not felt ill; but as soon as Marcos had placed me on the ground, the whole of San Juan del Norte seemed to revolve on a pivot, and I fell down in a dead faint. A sensation of being dragged forward, and the sound of voices a long way off, was the last perception of my senses. For many minutes all things were lost in utter unconsciousness.

The return to life was not effected in the usual method of administering cold water, smelling-salts, or other restoratives suitable to the attack; but the pungent _aguardiente_ (brandy), which Marcos not only applied to my nostrils but forced down my throat also, was strong enough to rouse a rhinoceros from the deepest swoon.

My eyes quickly opened, and half raising myself in the hammock, I gasped out, “Oh, give me air! Marcos, send these people away; and where did you get that horrid stuff?”

The old woman here advanced, and stood on her dignity. “Señora,” said she, “do not be offended; these people come to receive you after the fashion of the country; it is our custom when the stranger enters our village for all the inhabitants to come out and offer welcome. The rain has prevented many from being here; but see, there are still some few.”

Looking past her, I saw that a number of persons were standing in a group near the door, and evidently with the intention of staying there until something should be said or done. So, getting out of the hammock, weak and giddy enough, I managed to bow to the company, and say to the old woman in particular, that I hoped the inhabitants would excuse me, for I was really ill, and it was imperative that I should be alone for a while.

The company in general seemed inclined to linger; but Marcos strode amongst them, and with a sweep of one hand opened the door, whilst with the other he signed to them to make speedy exit. This was done with the air of an emperor, and without the utterance of a single word.

Marcos then asked Eduardo to go and look after the mules, and turning to the woman said—

“Hay leche aqui?” (Have you milk here?)

“Nada” (none), was the reply.

“Hay carne o tortillas?” (Have you meat or bread?)

“No,” was the decided reply.

“Hay cafe?” (Have you coffee?)

“Tampoco.” (Nor that either.)

Here was a state of things; and though the woman was perfectly civil, she did not make the slightest attempt to alleviate matters.

The muleteer, with a shrug of his shoulders, then went out, saying he must go and buy food, wherever he could find it, and I was left alone with the “lady” of the house.

“Can I not have some place where I can be private?” I asked her gently. “Any corner will do, as I have brought my own hammock.”

“You can sling your hammock from these hooks,” she replied, pointing to two large iron bars which projected from the solid beam running along the roof.

“But have you no sleeping apartments for the females of your family?” I inquire.

“What for? We all sling our hammocks at night in this room. I have a bed-place, because I am too old to move about much. We lie down in our clothes, and when the men go out to work in the morning, then we dress.”

The guides coming in soon after the close of this dialogue, I consulted with them as to what was to be done; and asked if my hammock could not be slung in the verandah at the back of this dwelling.

I was told that this was impossible. The rain was pouring steadily down. I must lie down in my clothes, and we would get away as early as possible on the morrow. Meanwhile Marcos had been able to get some coffee made, and he suggested that in the absence of my guides to fetch this, I might change my shoes and arrange my dress as best I could.

There was nothing else to be done; and after my hammock was slung, and the mosquito-net thrown over it, I was supposed to be “quite private,” although in the course of the evening six persons of different sexes stepped into the other hammocks, and laid themselves down for the night’s rest. The old woman took off her upper garment, tied her head up in a cotton handkerchief, stepped into her bed-place, and without curtain or mosquito-net travelled off to the land of Nod.

The rain had driven the mosquitoes into the dwelling, and at a later hour these pests became intolerable. A stir from without arrested my attention, and presently a lad with an iron brasier entered, lighted a candle which was stuck against the wall, and returning to the brasier, seemed to stir it up. At that instant a smoke and a most fearful smell pervaded the whole room, suffocating and nauseous in the extreme. I drew my net over my head, and lay wondering what this could mean; but nobody else seemed to be annoyed, or even to take notice of the nuisance. A more miserable night I never passed; and it was with the greatest thankfulness that I saw a gleam of the morning’s light through the door which opened to let the first riser out.

Eduardo soon entered, and expressed a hope that I had not suffered from the smoke, a flavour of which still pervaded the apartment. “It is worse than peat,” he said, “for it is the droppings of the stable and cow-shed, which, when dry, are burnt, and are the most effectual remedy known against an invasion of mosquitoes at night; but I know, Señora, you must have been nearly poisoned by the smell.”

Soon after, the mules and baggage were ready, and Marcos informed me with great satisfaction that he had been able to procure a supply of _queso_ (cheese). This “cheese” is really nothing better than curd, very sour and hard, turned up with yellow borders. Being very much compressed, it takes up small space, and is usually eaten with _tortillas_ in all parts of the interior.

We took leave of the woman of the house, and as I pressed a small gratuity into her hand, I thanked her for the shelter her roof had afforded us. This was but right, as it was quite in her power to have refused us admission altogether; and it was not for a traveller to grumble when the entertainment provided was such as the highest and lowest in the country are accustomed to as a matter of course; and, indeed, they know no other. A bowl of milk had been procured, which I drank before mounting, and thus I felt provisioned for the day.

Our journey, after some miles of travel, began to be on the ascent, and shortly we were far up the mountains. Here, losing the luxuriance of herbage and grass, we came upon rock, and cedar and pine trees. Clumps of these last grew in great profusion, scenting the air with the peculiar healthy smell of the Aleppo fir, which, alternating with masses of the elegant deodara tree, gave a magnificent clothing to tracts of land which might otherwise be bare. The mountain was not a high one, but the descent on the other side was so abrupt that I was glad to get off and walk, notwithstanding that the path was little else than an assemblage of loose stones, mingled with gravel and dust. Gradually this path narrowed, and we entered a high defile, so full of rock, and holes, and enormous roots of trees, that every step had to be picked with care, and our wary baggage-mule slipped for the first time, and more than once seemed on the verge of tumbling head over heels.

Here I could not help admiring the wonderful skill, and, I may say, the tact of both mule and muleteer. Did Marcos run forward, and, by the short rope which was attached to the head, guide the baggage-mule to another part, or jump with her from stone to stone, Luisa would stop, look at what was going on in front, and imitate precisely what her companion was being led to do. The _macho_, being younger, required all Eduardo’s care, and it often displayed an inclination to kick every stone to pieces that came in its way. Sometimes the beasts would decline to walk where Marcos guided them; and when they refused the path, it was always because insecure stones or a hole were in the way, or some obstacle which the muleteer had overlooked. Marcos, on his part, never insisted where the mules steadily refused to go onwards. “They are very wise,” said he; “they know better where to walk than I do. They like my help when they really need it, poor mules!”

Then with a touch or a pat the mules were told conversationally how hard it was for us others; and further on the man called, “_Mulas, mulas_, do you not hear the sound of the water? On, my _mulas_, on.”

A grateful sound we all heard, that of a low rushing noise, rising and falling like the murmur of the wind. It was the voice of a brawling stream, which flowed at the outlet of the defile. Save the rush of little children’s feet over an upper floor, there is no sound sweeter to me than the rippling of a running stream over a pebbly bed in the hot summer-tide. Weary and travel-stained as we were, what in nature could give us kinder welcome than the call of the delicious water, with its wealth of cascade and spout and gentle flow? Water that here contained within itself a myriad of loving voices, one of which specially seemed to tell us that it was waiting to lave our feet, and spread out wide a veil of argentine drops, should we descend further into its depths to bathe and live.

We had heard its call from afar; and now the mules quickened their pace and snuffed the air, and we human things pulled ourselves together, and marched bravely forward, for down a winding path in front we had descried a glint of the tossing stream—a friend indeed.

Eduardo ran forward, and, boylike, dashed into the brook, danced from stone to stone, and danced again, and plunged his head into the water, and shouted, “_La agua, la querida agua!_” (the water, the beloved water!) and then, between him and Marcos, I was taken from the saddle, and in their strong arms I found myself seated on the bank on the opposite side, wondering.

A moment or two afterwards a gourd-shell was filled for my use, and I was asked to drink to _El Hondo_, the water-god of this lovely region, from whom old legend saith the name of Honduras is derived.

Dear water-sprite, whoever you may be, or whoever you may have been, I did drink to you with a benison; for did I not feel thankful that at last in your sweet domain I could indulge in the salutary life-giving bath? I forgot San Juan del Norte and all its woes, as I called to my attendants to search for a secluded spot in which I might wash and be clean. Right willingly did I drink to _El Hondo_.

The mules were taken across and unloaded. There was plenty of grass, and we decided to remain two hours in this shady spot; for here it would seem that the sun had retired in favour of _El Hondo_, and we were willing to take advantage of the comforts which were poured upon us. Eduardo routed from among the wraps an old blue bathing-gown, which had generally served as a mattress for my hammock; and armed with soap and towels, I made my way to the primitive bathing-place.

“Now, Señora,” said this good young fellow, “you will be as private as possible, and we will go a good way off, and will be sure to watch and prevent anybody coming near you. Marcos and I will light a fire and make the coffee, and we can eat our breakfast before you are finished. And I will have your breakfast ready; we have got eggs; and then when you breakfast, we can smoke and sleep; eh, Señora?”

This arrangement suited me well, and I found my way a little up-stream, to a curvature in the bank, which served admirably for the purpose, as it was screened by a mass of low-spreading bushes, and in its centre stood a high stone, over which a mimic cascade just made impetus enough to act as a shower-bath. It would be ungracious to pass over the enjoyment of the delicious luxury, without a word to those who sit at home, and perhaps cannot believe that a bath can be taken in this wise in the open air without some infringement of delicacy.

“My friends,” I reply to such objectors, “there is much more immodesty in the bathing-places of Brighton, Havre, Dieppe, where the meretricious costumes displayed under the name of ‘bathing-dress,’ are enough in many cases to strike terror into the most hardened beholder. Witness the fat objects who crusade down the beach in bolster-cases, short at knee, and denuded at bosom; and who know, and are not unwilling to know, that their masculine acquaintance are looking on with more or less of criticism, according as their feelings may be benevolent or malevolent.”

Here there was no gaping, grinning crowd, and I felt strong in the conviction that my guides would abhor the slightest attempt to look upon me until I should be dressed. Had I gallivanted about in a harlequin’s attire, such as is seen constantly on the persons of the bathers at fashionable watering-places in England, they, in their uncivilisation, would have regarded me with the greatest contempt, and perhaps would have called me mad. So my bath was begun and ended in enjoyable ease and privacy; and my bathing-gown being taken to a bush whereon the sun did shine, I had nothing to do but eat my breakfast spread on soft grass, about which grows, in great profusion, many varieties of the _Digitalis_.

The mules had also undergone a rubbing and scrubbing; the harness and baggage were neatly stowed away under the trees; and the men, after attending to my wants, turned to a smoke and a sleep.

They had earned the luxury well and fairly, and so I promised to act sentinel; and whilst they slept, I sat under a tree, and arranged the pages of my journal, a little grey bird, with scarlet-tipped wings, just looking near now and then to see that Soltera was doing the thing fairly.

The delicious coolness and silence of the place were more than compensation for the late wretched night; and it was with real reluctance that I called out “Time,” when the two hours allotted for rest had passed away.

The sun was fierce when, after a careful reloading, we again set out: the journey was to be all hill-work, up the side of a grand mountain, which in a short time became so toilsome, that it was all I could do to keep my seat, and even Marcos was glad to ride longer in his turn with Eduardo than was his wont.

Our accommodation on this night was more comfortable, it being at a farmhouse a little off the highroad. The next day presented no particular features; and the day after that I had occasion to take advantage of Don Graciano’s caution with respect to Marcos’ propensity for making money in all shapes and ways.

We arrived at a small village, to find that the public schoolroom had been most kindly placed at our disposal by the master. My hammock was to be slung in the room, and the men were to sleep in the verandah on benches.

I had just settled myself for the night, when, to my surprise, Marcos lifted the latch and walked in.

“Señora,” said he, “I want half a dollar, please.”

“What for? Why do you come at this time?”

“I have put the mules into the stable of the place, and I want the money to pay for them.” This with a very decided air.

“No, Marcos,” I replied, “I will not give you the money. In the first place, you had no business to put the mules in the public stables without consulting me; in the second place, you know you expressly promised never to do so unless there were a scarcity of grass and water.”

“There is a scarcity of grass and water here.”

“That is strange, Marcos; the schoolmaster told me that there was abundance of both; besides, I saw Luisa feeding in a meadow not an hour ago.”

“Then you will not pay for stabling, Señora.”

“Most certainly not; you can do so if you choose,” I replied.

“Señora,” answered Marcos, “if you do not give me the money, I will leave you and go home when we get to Comayagua.”

“No, Marcos; if you leave me, you will go to-morrow morning. We can settle at the office of the _alcalde_ here; you will have broken your engagement, and so I must place the papers before the _alcalde_, and he will arrange what I am to pay you. Good night; shut the door behind you, and don’t come in here till I call. Now go.”

The man stared at me, but said nothing. After waiting a moment, he turned on his heel and went out, shutting the door with a clang.

The situation was uncomfortable enough, but I was determined not to be victimised. The matter certainly was small, but to accede to this demand would only be to open the way to further extortion. I plumed myself, too, on the way I had dragged in the _alcalde_, as I had not the faintest idea whether such a functionary existed in the place or not. My sheet-anchor was in reality the schoolmaster, who had promised to call upon me in the morning. But _alcalde_ sounded legal and formal, and I felt sure that the word had vanquished Marcos utterly.

Eduardo knocked very early in the morning, and brought in a large red jar of soft water and some nice towels sent by the worthy schoolmaster. The lad looked at me as if something was to be said, but I resolutely held my peace. Had I not heard voices in confabulation under the verandah?

“Go and find out, Eduardo, where the office of the _alcalde_ is,” I said at length; “we cannot start till I have seen him.”

“Señora, the mules are saddled, and we are going to take our coffee,—and—Señora, Marcos would like to speak to you—now—Señora; it was the _aguardiente_.”

“Let Marcos come in at once,” I replied, throwing my large shawl over me, and looking as if I had never heard of the man in my life.

Marcos came to me. “Oh, Señora, do not mind the foolish words I said last night,” the muleteer exclaimed, looking quite subdued; “it was all a mistake. I am ready to go. The mules are saddled. Señora, I will take care of you, and see that you cross the Juan.”

“Very well, Marcos,” I answered, “you can do as you please, and I want to start early. Go and get your breakfast now, like a good fellow (_buen hombre_). I am sure you will take me across the river safely.”

This time the man went out with a laugh, and I laughed in my sleeve, thankful to have escaped the necessity of consulting the _alcalde_, and all the annoyances which the interview would have surely entailed.

We were soon on our way, led out for a short distance by the courteous schoolmaster. He had heard from Eduardo, it appeared, all the particulars of the little skirmish with Marcos, and he congratulated me on my victory.

“The men tell me you are a brave little lady,” said he.

“I ought to be. I am the daughter and the sister of two brave men who fought and died for their country.”

“God rest them! Go you with God.” This was the schoolmaster’s farewell.

Fairly now on the trot, our object was to cross the river Juan before night, as reports from various persons had agreed as to its being much swollen by recent rain, and that its condition was not favourable for passing over. We therefore travelled fast, hardly waiting to take food. After a few hours we found ourselves on the banks of a wide river, in company with some Indian women who were filling their water-jars at the stream.