Six Days On The Hurricane Deck Of A Mule Part 1

Six Days on the Hurricane Deck of a Mule.

by Almira Stillwell Cole.

Last spring I almost learned to ride a bicycle.

Those who have had a similar struggle will correctly estimate the exact value of that word _almost_. I was laboring under peculiar difficulties, for I was a whilom inmate of one of those sacred inst.i.tutions--a young ladies' boarding-school,--where any infringement upon the Spartan law of dignity would have been looked upon as less pardonable than a simultaneous indulgence in the seven deadly sins.

My agony of mind and body under those circ.u.mstances can be better imagined than described. Methought life held no more painful experience, but how impossible it is to gauge endurance and cla.s.sify suffering I have since learned.

When, later on, I announced to my friends and relatives my intention of taking up a residence in the interior of _Honduras_ for the ensuing five years, I was fairly overwhelmed by the storm of exclamations, reproaches, dire predictions, and tearful expostulations, none of which shook my resolution.

I a.s.sured them that the trip was simple enough,--by steamer from _New York_ to _Colon_, thence by rail to _Panama_, where a steamer was taken to _Amapala_, and then over the mountain on mule-back.

One friend in vain tried to move me by drawing dreadful pictures of life with a ruined complexion; another a.s.sured me I was going to bury myself among barbarians; a third pointed out the miseries of sea-sickness and the certainty of death from some fever which would be sure to attack me at once, and so _ad infinitum_.

I bore it all as meekly as possible and with outward patience, but inward raging. I told them I cared more for the complexion of my life than the amount of sun-kissed pigment my skin contained; I would civilize all the barbarians I found; and since others had endured sea-sickness so could I.

However, at last a teasing cousin did hit upon a fact, and a stubborn one, which had tormented me considerably--that mule I was to ride. He a.s.sured me that had I ever attempted to ride a wheel I would have some idea of what was in store for me. With a sinking heart but unabashed countenance, I smiled a superior sort of smile and replied that I had learned to ride a wheel.

"Well, a mule is worse," was the reply that somewhat staggered me.

Then I did not believe him, but now I think he must be divinely gifted with the spirit of prophecy.

Sailing day came, and with all the a.s.surance and independence of a typical American young woman, I stood on the deck of a steamer alone, and watched the familiar faces of friends fade into the distance.

Sixteen days later, as I was about to go ash.o.r.e in _Honduras_, I audibly wondered why any one should find the journey anything but delightful.

Every moment had been an enjoyable one, and I had entirely escaped one of the foretold horrors. Imagine the shadow that crept across the sunshine of my mental vision, when the Captain of the ship I was leaving so regretfully remarked, with a wise and mysterious shake of his head:

"Perhaps you will see why, when you have been for six days on the hurricane deck of a mule."

A youth, considerably my junior, whom I had known well as a schoolboy in the States, had come with two men-servants and six mules to meet me. As I stood on sh.o.r.e and watched the vessel steam out of the harbor, I did almost feel as if I had had my final contact with civilization.

We went at once to the hotel, which I thought the dirtiest place I had ever seen. Since then I have learned to discriminate nicely between different degrees of filth.

Here we were obliged to remain for two days, for _Amapala_ is on an island, and one has to be transported to the mainland before the journey can be continued. The little steamer does not run regularly, as _manana_ is the same as to-day, if not preferable, to the native of the coast.

We could hardly believe the evidence of our senses when finally we were plowing our way over the bay toward our desired destination, some two and a half hours after the proprietors of the launch had a.s.sured us they would be ready to start.

In all the heat of the tropical noonday sun we came to a stop two hours later, at _La Brea_, and alighted upon a sandy beach, back of which were a store-house and a few small mud cabins. In the office of the store-house we ate our lunch, and shortly after word came to me that the fated moment for mounting had arrived.

With a heart beating with apprehension I went outside where I found quite a group of curious natives, while in the midst stood the antagonist with whom I was to wage such an unaccustomed warfare--a gentle-looking beast, gayly trapped out in a handsome saddle of red and tan leather, under which was a corresponding velvet cloth.

With a degree of satisfaction somewhat rea.s.suring, I noted that she was large enough to carry me and yet so small that a fall from her height could not be wholly fatal. What I further noticed and was troubled by was the fact that the saddle was made for the right side instead of the left, and then it was borne in upon my mind, that the hope that a slight experience on horseback ten years before would prove of some service to me now, was a perfectly futile one. I was about to embark upon an unknown sea, with no chart to guide me in its navigation.

Meanwhile a low chair had been brought, upon which I climbed preparatory to making the further ascent. Just then my courage was at such a low ebb that to take the next step seemed beyond me.

"Vincent, I can't do it."

"You must," was the unsympathizing reply, and seeing me still hesitate, he added: "You can't walk, and this is the only way."

That settled it. In sheer despair, I set my teeth together, shut my eyes and jumped, remembering that "whatever goes up must come down"--somewhere, and I did not much care where.

Even yet I retain more than a vivid memory of the astonishment I felt when I discovered that I had actually alighted in the right place. My stock of self-esteem has been on the increase ever since.

In a few moments we started merrily off, I soon becoming used to the motion, and rather liking it. If only my cousin could have witnessed my triumph, my happiness would have been complete.

The road lay over a velvety plain, and for a couple of hours we rode on, the only incident at all exciting, being an effort on my part to leave my head perched upon a heavy limb of an overhanging tree. This danger past, no new danger presented itself to disturb our quiet progress, and toward the end of the afternoon, we rode into _Nacaome_, the little village where we were to spend the night.

Dismounting at the entrance to an _adobe_ house, with doors standing hospitably ajar, we were bidden to enter, and were shown into a great bare room, with a tiled floor, no ceiling except the roof of tiles, and containing two chairs, two beds, and a table. There were no windows, two great doors, one on each side of the corner, admitting light and air, and at one side of the room a smaller door led into another apartment, for this was a house on an unusual scale.

The native bed is something unique, and perhaps a description of it will not come amiss. A plain, high, single wooden bedstead, such as we sometimes see in very old-fashioned farm-houses, first has ropes or strips of skin drawn over it, upon which is placed a piece of matting, or in some cases, leather--the latter a sign of luxury.

During the day it presents this appearance, but at night a hard pillow is added, the native woman wraps herself in a sheet, and lies down on the matting to sleep as peaceful and dreams as blissful, let us hope, as her more favored sister who reclines upon a downy couch under a silken coverlid.

I had no occasion to test the comfort of this bed in its primitive state, for our servants had brought with them everything that could render our quarters bearable if there were any foundation upon which to build.

A hammock was slung up in the room, and I found I had never before cherished a proper appreciation of one. Even a summer girl, with all the romantic accessories of "shady nook, babbling brook," and so on, can form no conception of the soul-satisfying comfort derived from abandoning oneself to the luxurious embrace of a hammock, after a few hours' ride on a mule. One friend who had survived the experience I was just beginning, had warned me not to think death was nigh at the end of the first day, so I lay there almost vainly trying to convince myself that these were only natural and ordinary sensations and would not bring about a general dissolution.

Thus reflecting I fell into a kind sleep, from which I was aroused by a terrific clap of thunder and such a deluge of rain as I had never witnessed. Heretofore I had always disliked lightning, but nature's present "pyrotechnical display" challenged naught but my most enthusiastic admiration. When it was over supper was announced, and soon afterward we retired for the night, I occupying one of the beds in the big room, one of the women of the house the other, and poor Vincent being relegated to a hammock swung up in the next room, where the entire family--men, women, and children--slept.

I was soon oblivious to my surroundings, and, in the style of the chroniclers, thus endeth the history of the first day.

Upon awaking the following morning, I found I was considerably rested, and quite willing to undertake a continuance of the journey, for which a specially glorious day seemed promised.

About half past seven we were off, I having mounted my steed with a little more agility than before. Indeed, I improved so rapidly in this respect before the trip was over, that my companion, in a burst of boyish enthusiasm, gave it as his opinion that I could "earn five dollars a day in Buffalo Bill's show." What untold wealth might now have been mine had not this talent so long lain dormant!

About half a mile from our starting-point we came to a river which at this place had divided itself, forming two forks, and both had become so swollen during the present rainy season that it seemed a serious matter to ford them, especially when my inexperience was taken into consideration.

An Indian, who lived on the bank, when drawn into the consultation advised us to go farther down and cross the big river in a canoe. We went, he acting as our guide, and when we came to the place where the canoe ought to be, behold, it was on the other side of the stream.

Then ensued such a series of screeches and yells as made me tremble for the safety of my scalp and look furtively around for a score of blood-thirsty natives to spring from ambush, but when my fears were somewhat calmed I understood that our guide was merely calling to the boatman across the way.

His efforts met with no success, and with a stream of eloquence which my limited knowledge of profanity would never allow me to translate into plain English, he rolled up his trousers, grabbed the halter of my mule, and without further ado plunged into the water and made for the other sh.o.r.e.

Sometime I will put it on record for how long it is possible to hold one's breath. During the time we were slipping and sliding over the stones, sometimes finding a foothold almost an impossibility and with difficulty breasting the current, I had no use whatever for oxygen, but lived wholly upon terror and the thought of a watery grave. Such was not to be my fate, however, and I escaped to endure greater trials and revel in far more wonderful experiences.

After reaching _terra firma_, on and on we rode over a plain similar to the one we had traversed the previous afternoon. Once we came to a tiny stream flowing across our path, so small it was hardly worth noticing, but to my surprise my mule objected so seriously and so suddenly to wetting her feet, that I was nearly unseated, and in consequence was led to investigate the cause of her conduct. I somewhat sympathized with her when I found that the pretty light blue rivulet was formed of steaming hot water, the outlet of a boiling spring hard by. In time my superior will conquered, and we crossed the water, which is so hot that eggs can be cooked in it.

As we were riding along in silence, I watching the many-colored lizards darting from our vicinity, marvelling at the size attained by the cactus in its native clime, and indulging in many comparisons, _not_ odious, I was suddenly startled by a most outrageous din apparently proceeding from a clump of trees just before us--such groans and shrieks as if all civilized creation were yielding up the ghost in the last throes of mortal agony for the special delectation of innumerable cannibals, whose cries and yells of evident delight could also be plainly heard.

Terror-stricken, I glanced at my companion, but he seemed perfectly undisturbed.

"What is it?" I managed to hoa.r.s.ely whisper.

"Wagons," he briefly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

And wagons I found it to be of a kind and cla.s.s utterly unknown to me.

The wheels were slices of trees, cut diametrically, in the centre of which holes had been bored for the insertion of the axles.