The Log From The Sea Of Cortez Part 3

MARCH 20.

We had marked the southern end of Espiritu Santo Island as our next collecting stop. This is a long narrow island which makes the northern side of the San Lorenzo Channel. It is mountainous and stands high and sheer from the blue water. We wanted particularly to collect there so that we could contrast the fauna of the eastern tip of this island with that of the secluded and protected bay of La Paz. Throughout we attempted to work in stations in the same area which nevertheless contrasted conditions for living, such as wave-shock, bottom, rock formation, exposure, depth, and so forth. The most radical differences in life forms are discovered in this way.

Early in the morning we sailed from our shelter under Pescadero Point and crossed the channel again. It was a very short run. There were many manta rays cruising slowly near the surface, with only the tips of their "wings" protruding above the water. They seemed to hover, and when we approached too near, they disappeared into the blue depths. Their effortless speed is astonishing. On the lines we caught two yellowfin tunas,23 speedy and efficient fish. They struck the line so hard that it is impossible to see why they did not tear their heads off. speedy and efficient fish. They struck the line so hard that it is impossible to see why they did not tear their heads off.

We anch.o.r.ed near a bouldery sh.o.r.e. This would be the first station in the Gulf where we would be able to turn over rocks, and a new ecological set-up was indicated by the fact that the small boulders rested in sand.

This time everyone but Tony went ash.o.r.e. Sparky and Tiny were already developing into good collectors, and now Tex joined us and quickly became excited in the collecting. We welcomed this help, for in general work, what with the shortness of the time and the large areas to be covered, the more hands and eyes involved, the better. Besides, these men who lived by the sea had a great respect for the sea and all its inhabitants. a.s.sociation with the sea does not breed contempt.

The boulders on this beach were almost a perfect turning-over size-heavy enough to protect the animals under them from grinding by the waves, and light enough to be lifted. They were well coated with short algae and bedded in very coa.r.s.e sand. The dominant species on this beach was a sulphury cuc.u.mber,24 a dark, almost black-green holothurian which looks as though it were dusted with sulphur. As the tide dropped on the shallow beach we saw literally millions of these cuc.u.mbers. They lay in cl.u.s.ters and piles between the rocks and under the rocks, and as the tide went down and the tropical sun beat on the beach, many of them became quite dry without apparent injury. Most of these holothurians were from five to eight inches long, but there were great numbers of babies, some not more than an inch in length. We took a great many of them. a dark, almost black-green holothurian which looks as though it were dusted with sulphur. As the tide dropped on the shallow beach we saw literally millions of these cuc.u.mbers. They lay in cl.u.s.ters and piles between the rocks and under the rocks, and as the tide went down and the tropical sun beat on the beach, many of them became quite dry without apparent injury. Most of these holothurians were from five to eight inches long, but there were great numbers of babies, some not more than an inch in length. We took a great many of them.

Easily the second most important animal of this sh.o.r.e in point of quant.i.ty was the brittle-star. We had read of their numbers in the Gulf and here they were, mats and cl.u.s.ters of them, giants under the rocks. It was simple to pick up a hundred at a time in black, twisting, squirming knots. There were five species of them, and these we took in large numbers also, for in preservation they sometimes cast off their legs or curl up into knots, and we wished to have a number of perfect specimens. Starfish were abundant here and we took six varieties. The difference between the brittle-star and the starfish is interestingly reflected in the scientific names-"Ophio" is a Greek root signifying "serpent"-the round compact body and long serpent-like arms of the brittle-star are suggested in the generic name "ophiuran," while the more truly star-like form of the starfish is recognizable in the Greek root "aster," which occurs in so many of its proper names, "Heliaster," "Astrometis," etc. We found three species of urchins, among them the very sharp-spined and poisonous Centrechinus mexica.n.u.s; Centrechinus mexica.n.u.s; approximately ten different kinds of crabs, four of shrimps, a number of anemones of various types, a great number of worms, including our enemy approximately ten different kinds of crabs, four of shrimps, a number of anemones of various types, a great number of worms, including our enemy Eurythoe, Eurythoe, which seems to occur everywhere in the Gulf, several species of naked mollusks, and a good number of peanut worms. The rocks and the sand underneath them were heavily populated. There were chitons and keyhole limpets, a number of species of clams, flatworms, sponges, bryozoa, and numerous snails. which seems to occur everywhere in the Gulf, several species of naked mollusks, and a good number of peanut worms. The rocks and the sand underneath them were heavily populated. There were chitons and keyhole limpets, a number of species of clams, flatworms, sponges, bryozoa, and numerous snails.

Again the collecting buckets were very full, but already we had begun the elimination of animals to be taken. On this day we took enough of the sulphury cuc.u.mbers and brittle-stars for our needs. These were carefully preserved, but when found again at a new station they would simply be noted in the collecting record, unless some other circ.u.mstance such as color change or size variation prevailed. Thus, as we proceeded, we gradually stopped collecting certain species and only noted them as occurring.

On board the Western Flyer, Western Flyer, again we laid out the animals in pans and prepared them for anesthetization. In one of the sea-cuc.u.mbers we found a small commensal fish again we laid out the animals in pans and prepared them for anesthetization. In one of the sea-cuc.u.mbers we found a small commensal fish25 which lived well inside the a.n.u.s. It moved in and out with great ease and speed, resting invariably head inward. In the pan we ejected this fish by a light pressure on the body of the cuc.u.mber, but it quickly returned and entered the a.n.u.s again. The pale, colorless appearance of this fish seemed to indicate that it habitually lived there. which lived well inside the a.n.u.s. It moved in and out with great ease and speed, resting invariably head inward. In the pan we ejected this fish by a light pressure on the body of the cuc.u.mber, but it quickly returned and entered the a.n.u.s again. The pale, colorless appearance of this fish seemed to indicate that it habitually lived there.

It is interesting to see how areas are sometimes dominated by one or two species. On this beach the yellow-green cuc.u.mber was everywhere, with giant brittle-stars a close second. Neither of these animals has any effective offensive property as far as we know, although neither of them seems to be a delicacy enjoyed by other animals. There does seem to be a balance which, when pa.s.sed by a certain species, allows that animal numerically to dominate a given area. When this threshold of successful reproduction and survival is crossed, the area becomes the special residence of this form. Then it seems other animals which might be either hostile or perhaps the prey of the dominating animal would be wiped out or would desert the given area. In many cases the arrival and success of a species seem to be by chance entirely. In some northern areas, where the ice of winter yearly scours and cleans the rocks, it has been noted that summer brings sometimes one dominant species and sometimes another, the success factor seeming to be prior arrival and an early start.26 With marine fauna, as with humans, priority and possession appear to be vastly important to survival and dominance. But sometimes it is found that the very success of an animal is its downfall. There are examples where the available food supply is so exhausted by the rapid and successful reproduction that the animal must migrate or die. Sometimes, also, the very by-products of the animals' own bodies prove poisonous to a too great concentration of their own species. With marine fauna, as with humans, priority and possession appear to be vastly important to survival and dominance. But sometimes it is found that the very success of an animal is its downfall. There are examples where the available food supply is so exhausted by the rapid and successful reproduction that the animal must migrate or die. Sometimes, also, the very by-products of the animals' own bodies prove poisonous to a too great concentration of their own species.

It is difficult, when watching the little beasts, not to trace human parallels. The greatest danger to a speculative biologist is a.n.a.logy. It is a pitfall to be avoided-the industry of the bee, the economics of the ant, the villainy of the snake, all in human terms have given us profound misconceptions of the animals. But parallels are amusing if they are not taken too seriously as regards the animal in question, and are downright valuable as regards humans. The routine of changing domination is a case in point. One can think of the attached and dominant human who has captured the place, the property, and the security. He dominates his area. To protect it, he has police who know him and who are dependent on him for a living. He is protected by good clothing, good houses, and good food. He is protected even against illness. One would say that he is safe, that he would have many children, and that his seed would in a short time litter the world. But in his fight for dominance he has pushed out others of his species who were not so fit to dominate, and perhaps these have become wanderers, improperly clothed, ill fed, having no security and no fixed base. These should really perish, but the reverse seems true. The dominant human, in his security, grows soft and fearful. He spends a great part of his time in protecting himself. Far from reproducing rapidly, he has fewer children, and the ones he does have are ill protected inside themselves because so thoroughly protected from without. The lean and hungry grow strong, and the strongest of them are selected out. Having nothing to lose and all to gain, these selected hungry and rapacious ones develop attack rather than defense techniques, and become strong in them, so that one day the dominant man is eliminated and the strong and hungry wanderer takes his place.

And the routine is repeated. The new dominant entrenches himself and then softens. The turnover of dominant human families is very rapid, a few generations usually sufficing for their rise and flowering and decay. Sometimes, as in the case of Hearst, the rise and glory and decay take place in one generation and nothing is left. One dominant thing sometimes does survive and that is not even well defined; some quality of the spirit of an individual continues to dominate. Whereas the great force which was Hearst has died before the death of the man and will soon be forgotten except perhaps as a ridiculous and vulgar fable, the spirit and thought of Socrates not only survive, but continue as living ent.i.ties.

There is a strange duality in the human which makes for an ethical paradox. We have definitions of good qualities and of bad; not changing things, but generally considered good and bad throughout the ages and throughout the species. Of the good, we think always of wisdom, tolerance, kindliness, generosity, humility; and the qualities of cruelty, greed, self-interest, graspingness, and rapacity are universally considered undesirable. And yet in our structure of society, the so-called and considered good qualities are invariable concomitants of failure, while the bad ones are the cornerstones of success. A man-a viewing-point man-while he will love the abstract good qualities and detest the abstract bad, will nevertheless envy and admire the person who through possessing the bad qualities has succeeded economically and socially, and will hold in contempt that person whose good qualities have caused failure. When such a viewing-point man thinks of Jesus or St. Augustine or Socrates he regards them with love because they are the symbols of the good he admires, and he hates the symbols of the bad. But actually he would rather be successful than good. In an animal other than man we would replace the term "good" with "weak survival quotient" and the term "bad" with "strong survival quotient." Thus, man in his thinking or reverie status admires the progression toward extinction, but in the unthinking stimulus which really activates him he tends toward survival. Perhaps no other animal is so torn between alternatives. Man might be described fairly adequately, if simply, as a two-legged paradox. He has never become accustomed to the tragic miracle of consciousness. Perhaps, as has been suggested, his species is not set, has not jelled, but is still in a state of becoming, bound by his physical memories to a past of struggle and survival, limited in his futures by the uneasiness of thought and consciousness.

Back on the Western Flyer, Western Flyer, Sparky cooked the tuna in a sauce of tomatoes and onions and spices and we ate magnificently. Each rock turned over had not been heavy, but we had turned over many tons of rocks in all. And now the work with the animals had to go on, the preservation and labeling. But we rested and drank a little beer, which in this condition of weariness is rest itself. Sparky cooked the tuna in a sauce of tomatoes and onions and spices and we ate magnificently. Each rock turned over had not been heavy, but we had turned over many tons of rocks in all. And now the work with the animals had to go on, the preservation and labeling. But we rested and drank a little beer, which in this condition of weariness is rest itself.

While we were eating, a boat came alongside and two Indians climbed aboard. Their clothing was better than that of the poor people of the day before. They were, after all, within a day's canoe trip of La Paz, and some of the veneer of that city had stuck to them. Their clothing was patched and ragged, but at least not falling apart from decay. We asked Sparky and Tiny to bring them a little wine, and after two gla.s.ses they became very affable, making us think of the intolerance of the Indian for alcohol. Later it developed that Sparky and Tiny had generously laced the wine with whisky, which proved just the opposite about the Indians' tolerance for alcohol. None of us could have drunk two tumblers, half whisky and half wine, but these men did and became gay and companionable. They were barefoot and carried the iron harpoons of the region, and in the bottom of their canoe lay a huge fish. Their canoe was typical of the region and was interesting. There are no large trees in the southern part of the Peninsula, hence all the canoes come from the mainland, most of them being made near Mazatlan. They are double-ended canoes carved from a single log of light wood, braced inside with struts. Sometimes a small sail is set, but ordinarily they are paddled swiftly by two men, one at either end. They are seaworthy and fast. The wood inside and out is covered with a thin layer of white or blue plaster, waterproof and very hard. This is made by the people themselves and applied regularly. It is not a paint, but a hard, sh.e.l.l-like plaster, and we could not learn how it is made although this is probably well known to many people. Equipped with one of these canoes, an iron harpoon, a pair of trousers, shirt, and hat, a young man is fairly well set up in life. In fact, the acquiring of a Nayarit canoe will probably give a young man so much security in his own eyes and make him so desirable in the eyes of others that he will promptly get married.

It is said so often and in such ignorance that Mexicans are contented, happy people. "They don't want anything." This, of course, is not a description of the happiness of Mexicans, but of the unhappiness of the person who says it. For Americans, and probably all northern peoples, are all ma.s.ses of wants growing out of inner insecurity. The great drive of our people stems from insecurity. It is often considered that the violent interest in little games, the mental rat-mazes of contract bridge, and the purposeful striking of little white b.a.l.l.s with sticks, comes from an inner sterility. But more likely it comes from an inner complication. Boredom arises not so often from too little to think about, as from too much, and none of it clear nor clean nor simple. Bridge is a means of forgetting the thousands of little irritations of a mind over-crowded with anarchy. For bridge has a purpose, that of taking as many tricks as possible. The end is clear and very simple. But nothing in the lives of bridge-players is clean-cut, and no ends are defined. And so they retire into some orderly process, even in a game, from the messy complication of their lives. It is possible, although we do not know this, that the poor Mexican Indian is a little less messy in his living, having a baby, spearing a fish, getting drunk, backing a political candidate; each one of these is a clear, free process, ending in a result. We have thought of this in regard to the bribes one sometimes gives to Mexican officials. This is universally condemned by Americans, and yet it is a simple, easy process. A bargain is struck, a price named, the money paid, a graceful compliment exchanged, the service performed, and it is over. He is not your man nor you his. A little process has been terminated. It is rather like the old-fashioned buying and selling for cash or produce.

We find we like this cash-and-carry bribery as contrasted with our own system of credits. With us, no bargain is struck, no price named, nothing is clear. We go to a friend who knows a judge. The friend goes to the judge. The judge knows a senator who has the ear of the awarder of contracts. And eventually we sell five carloads of lumber. But the process has only begun. Every member of the chain is tied to every other. Ten years later the son of the awarder of contracts must be appointed to Annapolis. The senator must have traffic tickets fixed for many years to come. The judge has a political lien on your friend, and your friend taxes you indefinitely with friends who need jobs. It would be simpler and cheaper to go to the awarder of contracts, give him one-quarter of the price of the lumber, and get it over with. But that is dishonest, that is a bribe. Everyone in the credit chain eventually hates and fears everyone else. But the bribe-bargain, having no enforcing mechanism, promotes mutual respect and a genuine liking. If the accepter of a bribe cheats you, you will not go to him again and he will soon have to leave the public service. But if he fulfills his contract, you have a new friend whom you can trust.

We do not know whether Mexicans are happier than we; it is probable that they are exactly as happy. However, we do know that the channels of their happiness or unhappiness are different from ours, just as their time sense is different. We can invade neither, but it is some gain simply to know that it is so.

As the men on our deck continued with what we thought was wine and they probably considered some expensive foreign beverage (it must have tasted bad enough to be very foreign and very expensive), they uncovered a talent for speech we have often noticed in these people. They are natural orators, filling their sentences with graceful forms, with similes and elegant parallels. Our oldest man delivered for us a beautiful political speech. He was an ardent admirer of General Almazan, who was then a candidate for the Mexican presidency. Our Indian likened the General militarily to the G.o.d of war, but whether Mars, or Huitzilopochtli, he did not say. In physical beauty the General stemmed from Apollo, not he of the Belvedere, but an earlier, st.u.r.dier Apollo. In kindness and forethought and wisdom Almazan was rather above the lesser deities. Our man even touched on the General's abilities in bed, although how he knew he did not say. We gathered, though, that the General was known and well thought of in this respect by his total feminine const.i.tuency. "He is a strong man," said our orator, holding himself firmly upright by the port stay. One of us interposed, "When he is elected there will be more fish in the sea for the poor people of Mexico." And the orator nodded wisely. "That is so my friend," he said. It was later that we learned that General Camacho, the other candidate, had many of the same beautiful qualities as General Almazan. And since he won, perhaps he had them more highly developed. For political virtues always triumph, and when two such colossi as these oppose each other, one can judge their relative excellences only by counting the vote.

We had known that sooner or later we must develop an explanation for what we were doing which would be short and convincing. It couldn't be the truth because that wouldn't be convincing at all. How can you say to a people who are preoccupied with getting enough food and enough children that you have come to pick up useless little animals so that perhaps your world picture will be enlarged? That didn't even convince us. But there had to be a story, for everyone asked us. One of us had once taken a long walking trip through the southern United States. At first he had tried to explain that he did it because he liked to walk and because he saw and felt the country better that way. When he gave this explanation there was unbelief and dislike for him. It sounded like a lie. Finally a man said to him, "You can't fool me, you're doing it on a bet." And after that, he used this explanation, and everyone liked and understood him from then on. So with these men we developed our story and stuck to it thereafter. We were collecting curios, we said. These beautiful little animals and sh.e.l.ls, while they abounded so greatly here as to be valueless, had, because of their scarcity in the United States, a certain value. They would not make us rich but it was at least profitable to take them. And besides, we liked taking them. Once we had developed this story we never had any more trouble. They all understood us then, and brought us what they thought were rare articles for the collection. They considered that we might get very rich. Thank heaven they do not know that when at last we came back to San Diego the customs fixed a value on our thousands of pickled animals of five dollars. We hope these Indians never find it out; we would go down steeply in their estimations.

Our men went away finally a trifle intoxicated, but not forgetting to take an armload of empty tomato cans. They value tin cans very highly.

It would not have done to sail for La Paz harbor that night, for the pilot has short hours and any boat calling for him out of his regular hours must pay double. But we wanted very much to get to La Paz; we were out of beer and already the water in our tanks was stale-tasting. It had seemed to us that it was stale when we put it in and time did not improve it. It isn't likely that we would have died of thirst. The second or third day would undoubtedly have seen us drinking the unpleasant stuff. But there were other reasons why we longed for La Paz. Cape San Lucas had not really been a town, and our crew had convinced itself that it had been a very long time out of touch with civilization. In civilization we think they included some items which, if anything, are attenuated in highly civilized groups. In addition, there is the genuine fascination of the city of La Paz. Everyone in the area knows the greatness of La Paz. You can get anything in the world there, they say. It is a huge place-not of course so monstrous as Guaymas or Mazatlan, but beautiful out of all comparison. The Indians paddle hundreds of miles to be at La Paz on a feast day. It is a proud thing to have been born in La Paz, and a cloud of delight hangs over the distant city from the time when it was the great pearl center of the world. The robes of the Spanish kings and the stoles of bishops in Rome were stiff with the pearls from La Paz. There's a magic-carpet sound to the name, anyway. And it is an old city, as cities in the West are old, and very venerable in the eyes of Indians of the Gulf. Guaymas is busier, they say, and Mazatlan gayer, perhaps, but La Paz is antigua. antigua.

The Gulf and Gulf ports have always been unfriendly to colonization. Again and again attempts were made before a settlement would stick. Humans are not much wanted on the Peninsula. But at La Paz the pearl oysters drew men from all over the world. And, as in all concentrations of natural wealth, the terrors of greed were let loose on the city again and again. An event which happened at La Paz in recent years is typical of such places. An Indian boy by accident found a pearl of great size, an unbelievable pearl. He knew its value was so great that he need never work again. In his one pearl he had the ability to be drunk as long as he wished, to marry any one of a number of girls, and to make many more a little happy too. In his great pearl lay salvation, for he could in advance purchase ma.s.ses sufficient to pop him out of Purgatory like a squeezed watermelon seed. In addition he could shift a number of dead relatives a little nearer to Paradise. He went to La Paz with his pearl in his hand and his future clear into eternity in his heart. He took his pearl to a broker and was offered so little that he grew angry, for he knew he was cheated. Then he carried his pearl to another broker and was offered the same amount. After a few more visits he came to know that the brokers were only the many hands of one head and that he could not sell his pearl for more. He took it to the beach and hid it under a stone, and that night he was clubbed into unconsciousness and his clothing was searched. The next night he slept at the house of a friend and his friend and he were injured and bound and the whole house searched. Then he went inland to lose his pursuers and he was waylaid and tortured. But he was very angry now and he knew what he must do. Hurt as he was he crept back to La Paz in the night and he skulked like a hunted fox to the beach and took out his pearl from under the stone. Then he cursed it and threw it as far as he could into the channel. He was a free man again with his soul in danger and his food and shelter insecure. And he laughed a great deal about it.

This seems to be a true story, but it is so much like a parable that it almost can't be. This Indian boy is too heroic, too wise. He knows too much and acts on his knowledge. In every way, he goes contrary to human direction. The story is probably true, but we don't believe it; it is far too reasonable to be true.

La Paz, the great city, was only a little way from us now, we could almost see its towers and smell its perfume. And it was right that it should be so hidden here out of the world, inaccessible except to the galleons of a small boy's imagination.

While we were anch.o.r.ed at Espiritu Santo Island a black yacht went by swiftly, and on her awninged after-deck ladies and gentlemen in white clothing sat comfortably. We saw they had tall cool drinks beside them and we hated them a little, for we were out of beer. And Tiny said fiercely, "n.o.body but a pansy'd sail on a thing like that." And then more gently, "But I've never been sure I ain't queer." The yacht went down over the horizon, and up over the horizon climbed an old horror of a cargo ship, dirty and staggering. And she stumbled on toward the channel of La Paz; her pumps must have been going wide open. Later, at La Paz, we saw her very low in the water in the channel. We said to a man on the beach, "She is sinking." And he replied calmly, "She always sinks."

On the Western Flyer, Western Flyer, vanity had set in. Clothing was washed unmercifully. The white tops of caps were laundered, and jeans washed and patted smooth while wet and hung from the stays to dry. Shoes were even polished and the shaving and bathing were deafening. The sweet smell of unguents and hair oils, of deodorants and lotions, filled the air. Hair was cut and combed; the mirror over the washstand behind the deckhouse was in constant use. We regarded ourselves in the mirror with the long contemplative coy looks of chorus girls about to go on stage. What we found was not good, but it was the best we had. Heaven knows what we expected to find in La Paz, but we wanted to be beautiful for it. vanity had set in. Clothing was washed unmercifully. The white tops of caps were laundered, and jeans washed and patted smooth while wet and hung from the stays to dry. Shoes were even polished and the shaving and bathing were deafening. The sweet smell of unguents and hair oils, of deodorants and lotions, filled the air. Hair was cut and combed; the mirror over the washstand behind the deckhouse was in constant use. We regarded ourselves in the mirror with the long contemplative coy looks of chorus girls about to go on stage. What we found was not good, but it was the best we had. Heaven knows what we expected to find in La Paz, but we wanted to be beautiful for it.

And in the morning, when we got under way, we washed the fish blood off the decks and put away the equipment. We coiled the lines in lovely spirals and washed all the dishes. It seemed to us we made a rather gallant show, and we hoped that no beautiful yacht was anch.o.r.ed in La Paz. If there were a yacht, we would be tough and seafaring, but if no such contrast was available some of us at least proposed to be not a little jaunty. Even the least naive of us expected Spanish ladies in high combs and mantillas to be promenading along the beach. It would be rather like the opening scene of a Hollywood production of Life in Latin America, Life in Latin America, with dancers in the foreground and cabaret tables upstage from which would rise a male chorus to sing "I met my love in La Paz-satin and Latin she was." with dancers in the foreground and cabaret tables upstage from which would rise a male chorus to sing "I met my love in La Paz-satin and Latin she was."

We a.s.sembled on top of the deckhouse, the Coast Pilot Coast Pilot open in front of us. Even Tony had succ.u.mbed; he wore a gaudy white seaman's cap with a gold ornament on the front of it which seemed to be a combination of field artillery and submarine service, except that it had an arrow-pierced heart superimposed on it. open in front of us. Even Tony had succ.u.mbed; he wore a gaudy white seaman's cap with a gold ornament on the front of it which seemed to be a combination of field artillery and submarine service, except that it had an arrow-pierced heart superimposed on it.

We have so often admired the literary style and quality of the Coast Pilot that it might be well here to quote from it. In the first place, the compilers of this book are cynical men. They know that they are writing for morons, that if by any effort their descriptions can be misinterpreted or misunderstood by the reader, that effort will be made. These writers have a contempt for almost everything. They would like an ocean and a coastline unchanging and unchangeable ; lights and buoys that do not rust and wash away; winds and storms that come at specified times; and, finally, reasonably intelligent men to read their instructions. They are gratified in none of these desires. They try to write calmly and objectively, but now and then a little bitterness creeps in, particularly when they deal with Mexican lights, buoys, and port facilities. The following quotation is from H. O. No. 84, "Sailing Directions for the West Coasts of Mexico and Central America, 1937, Corrections to January 1940," page 125, under "La Paz Harbor."

La Paz Harbor is that portion of La Paz Channel between the eastern end of El Mogote and the sh.o.r.e in the vicinity of La Paz. El Mogote is a low, sandy, bush-covered peninsula, about 6 miles long, east and west, and 1 miles wide at its widest part, that forms the northern side of Ensenada de Anpe, a large lagoon. This lagoon lies in a low plain that is covered with a thick growth of trees, bushes, and cactus. The water is shoal over the greater part of the lagoon, but a channel in which there are depths of 2 to 4 fathoms leads from La Paz Harbor to its northwestern part.La Paz Harbor is to mile wide, but it is nearly filled with shoals through which there is a winding channel with depths of 3 to 4 fathoms. A shoal with depths of only 1 to 8 feet over it extends northward from the eastern end of El Mogote to within 400 yards of Prieta Point and thus protects La Paz Harbor from the seas caused by northwesterly winds. is to mile wide, but it is nearly filled with shoals through which there is a winding channel with depths of 3 to 4 fathoms. A shoal with depths of only 1 to 8 feet over it extends northward from the eastern end of El Mogote to within 400 yards of Prieta Point and thus protects La Paz Harbor from the seas caused by northwesterly winds.La Paz Channel, leading between the shoal just mentioned and the mainland, and extending from Prieta Point to abreast the town of La Paz, has a length of about 3 miles and a least charted depth of 3 fathoms, but this depth can not be depended upon. Vessels of 13-foot draft may pa.s.s through the channel at any stage of the tide. The channel is narrow, with steep banks on either side, the water in some places shoaling from 3 fathoms to 3 or 4 feet within a distance of 20 yards. The deep water of the channel and the projecting points of the shoals on either side can readily be distinguished from aloft. In 1934 the controlling depth in the channel was reported to be 16 feet. leading between the shoal just mentioned and the mainland, and extending from Prieta Point to abreast the town of La Paz, has a length of about 3 miles and a least charted depth of 3 fathoms, but this depth can not be depended upon. Vessels of 13-foot draft may pa.s.s through the channel at any stage of the tide. The channel is narrow, with steep banks on either side, the water in some places shoaling from 3 fathoms to 3 or 4 feet within a distance of 20 yards. The deep water of the channel and the projecting points of the shoals on either side can readily be distinguished from aloft. In 1934 the controlling depth in the channel was reported to be 16 feet.A 9-foot channel, frequently used by coasters, leads across the shoal bank and into La Paz Channel at a position nearly 1 mile south-southeastward of Prieta Point. Caymancito Rock, on the eastern side of La Paz Channel, bearing 129, leads through this side channel.

Beacons-Off Prieta Point, at the entrance to the channel leading to La Paz, there are three beacons consisting of lengths of 3-inch pipe driven into the bottom and extending only a few feet above the surface of the water. They are difficult to make out at high tide in the daytime, and are not lighted at night [here the hatred creeps in subtly]. Prieta Point, at the entrance to the channel leading to La Paz, there are three beacons consisting of lengths of 3-inch pipe driven into the bottom and extending only a few feet above the surface of the water. They are difficult to make out at high tide in the daytime, and are not lighted at night [here the hatred creeps in subtly].Light Beacons-Three pairs of concrete range beacons, from each of which a light is shown, mark La Paz Channel. The outer range is situated on the sh.o.r.e near the entrance to the channel, about 1 mile southeastward of Prieta Point; the middle range is on a hillside about mile south-southeastward of Caymancito Rock; and the inner range is situated about mile northeastward of the munic.i.p.al pier at La Paz, ...

Harbor Lights-A light is shown from a wooden post 18 feet high and another from a post 20 feet high on the north and south ends, respectively, of the T-head of the munic.i.p.al pier at La Paz....Anchorage-Vessels waiting for a pilot can anchor southward of Prieta Point in depths of 7 to 10 fathoms. Anchorage can also be taken northward of El Mogote, but it is exposed to wind and sea....The best berth off the town is 200 to 300 yards westward of the pier in a depth of about 3 fathoms, sand....Pilotage is compulsory for all foreign merchant vessels. Pilots come out in a small motor launch carrying a white flag on which is the letter P, and board incoming vessels in the vicinity of Prieta Point. Although pilots will take vessels in at night, it is not advisable to attempt to enter the harbor after dark. is compulsory for all foreign merchant vessels. Pilots come out in a small motor launch carrying a white flag on which is the letter P, and board incoming vessels in the vicinity of Prieta Point. Although pilots will take vessels in at night, it is not advisable to attempt to enter the harbor after dark.

This is a good careful description by men whose main drive is toward accuracy, and they must be driven frantic as man and tide and wave undermine their work. The shifting sands of the channel; the three-inch pipe driven into the bottom; the T-head munic.i.p.al pier with its lights on wooden posts, none of which has been there for some time; and, last, their conviction that the pilots cannot find the channel at night, make for their curious, cold, tactful statement. We trust these men. They are controlled, and only now and then do their nerves break and a cry of pain escape them thus, in the "Supplement" dated 1940:

Page 109, Line Line 1, 1, for for "LIGHTS" "LIGHTS" read read "LIGHT" "LIGHT" and for and for "TWO LIGHTS ARE" read "WHEN THE CANNERY IS IN OPERATION, A LIGHT IS." "TWO LIGHTS ARE" read "WHEN THE CANNERY IS IN OPERATION, A LIGHT IS."

Or again:

Page 149, Line 2, after "line" add: "two piers project inward from this mole, affording berths for vessels and, except alongside these two piers, the mole is foul with debris and wrecked cranes. " "line" add: "two piers project inward from this mole, affording berths for vessels and, except alongside these two piers, the mole is foul with debris and wrecked cranes. "

These coast pilots are constantly exasperated; they are not happy men. When anything happens they are blamed, and their writing takes on an austere tone because of it. No matter how hard they work, the restlessness of nature and the carelessness of man are always two jumps ahead of them.

We ran happily up under Prieta Point as suggested, and dropped anchor and put up the American flag and under it the yellow quarantine flag. We would have liked to fire a gun, but we had only the ten-gauge shotgun, and its hammer was rusted down. It was only for a show of force anyway; we had never intended it for warlike purposes. And then we sat and waited. The site was beautiful-the highland of Prieta Point and a tower on the hillside. In the distance we could see the beach of La Paz, and it really looked like a Hollywood production, the fine, low buildings close down to the water and trees flanking them and a colored bandstand on the water's edge. The little canoes of Nayarit sailed by, and the sea was ruffled with a fair breeze. We took some color motion pictures of the scene, but they didn't come out either.

After what seemed a very long time, the little launch mentioned in the Coast Pilot Coast Pilot started for us. But it had no white flag with the letter "P." Like the munic.i.p.al pier, that was gone. The pilot, an elderly man in a business suit and a dark hat, came stiffly aboard. He had great dignity. He refused a drink, accepted cigarettes, took his position at the wheel, and ordered us on grandly. He looked like an admiral in civilian clothes. He governed Tex with a sensitive hand-a gentle push forward against the air meant "ahead." A flattened hand patting downward signified "slow." A quick thumb over the shoulder, "reverse." He was not a talkative man, and he ran us through the channel with ease, hardly sc.r.a.ping us at all, and signaled our anchor down 250 yards westward of the munic.i.p.al pier-if there had been one-the choicest place in the harbor. started for us. But it had no white flag with the letter "P." Like the munic.i.p.al pier, that was gone. The pilot, an elderly man in a business suit and a dark hat, came stiffly aboard. He had great dignity. He refused a drink, accepted cigarettes, took his position at the wheel, and ordered us on grandly. He looked like an admiral in civilian clothes. He governed Tex with a sensitive hand-a gentle push forward against the air meant "ahead." A flattened hand patting downward signified "slow." A quick thumb over the shoulder, "reverse." He was not a talkative man, and he ran us through the channel with ease, hardly sc.r.a.ping us at all, and signaled our anchor down 250 yards westward of the munic.i.p.al pier-if there had been one-the choicest place in the harbor.

La Paz grew in fascination as we approached. The square, iron-shuttered colonial houses stood up right in back of the beach with rows of beautiful trees in front of them. It is a lovely place. There is a broad promenade along the water lined with benches, named for dead residents of the city, where one may rest oneself.

Soon after we had anch.o.r.ed, the port captain, customs man, and agent came aboard. The captain read our papers, which complimented us rather highly, and was so impressed that he immediately a.s.signed us an armed guard-or, rather, three shifts of armed guards-to protect us from theft. At first we did not like this, since we had to pay these men, but we soon found the wisdom of it. For we swarmed with visitors from morning to night; little boys cl.u.s.tered on us like flies, in the rigging and on the deck. And although we were infested and crawling with very poor people and children, we lost nothing; and this in spite of the fact that there were little gadgets lying about that any one of us would have stolen if we had had the chance. The guards simply kept our visitors out of the galley and out of the cabin. But we do not think they prevented theft, for in other ports where we had no guard nothing was stolen.

The guards, big pleasant men armed with heavy automatics, wore uniforms that were starched and clean, and they were helpful and sociable. They ate with us and drank coffee with us and told us many valuable things about the town. And in the end we gave each of them a carton of cigarettes, which seemed valuable to them. But they were the reverse of what is usually thought and written of Mexican soldiers-they were clean, efficient, and friendly.

With the port captain came the agent, probably the finest invention of all. He did everything for us, provisioned us, escorted us, took us to dinner, argued prices for us in local stores, warned us about some places and recommended others. His fee was so small that we doubled it out of pure grat.i.tude.

As soon as we were cleared, Sparky and Tiny and Tex went ash.o.r.e and disappeared, and we did not see them until late that night, when they came back with the usual presents: shawls and carved cow-horns and colored handkerchiefs. They were so delighted with the exchange (which was then six pesos for a dollar) that we were very soon deeply laden with curios. There were five huge stuffed sea-turtles in one bunk alone, and j.a.panese toys, combs from New England, Spanish shawls from New Jersey, machetes from Sheffield and New York; but all of them, from having merely lived a while in La Paz, had taken on a definite Mexican flavor. Tony, who does not trust foreigners, stayed aboard, but later even he went ash.o.r.e for a while.

The tide was running out and the low sh.o.r.e east of the town was beginning to show through the shallow water. We gathered our paraphernalia and started for the beach, expecting and finding a fauna new to us. Here on the flats the water is warm, very warm, and there is no wave-shock. It would be strange indeed if, with few exceptions of ubiquitous animals, there should not be a definite change. The base of this flat was of rubble in which many k.n.o.bs and limbs of old coral were imbedded, making an easy hiding place for burrowing animals. In rubber boots we moved over the flat uncovered by the dropping tide; a silty sand made the water obscure when a rock or a piece of coral was turned over. And as always when one is collecting, we were soon joined by a number of small boys. The very posture of search, the slow movement with the head down, seems to draw people. "What did you lose?" they ask.

"Nothing."

"Then what do you search for?" And this is an embarra.s.sing question. We search for something that will seem like truth to us; we search for understanding; we search for that principle which keys us deeply into the pattern of all life; we search for the relations of things, one to another, as this young man searches for a warm light in his wife's eyes and that one for the hot warmth of fighting. These little boys and young men on the tide flat do not even know that they search for such things too. We say to them, "We are looking for curios, for certain small animals."

Then the little boys help us to search. They are ragged and dark and each one carries a small iron harpoon. It is the toy of La Paz, owned and treasured as tops or marbles are in America. They poke about the rocks with their little harpoons, and now and then a lazing fish which blunders too close feels the bite of the iron.

There is a small ghost shrimp which lives on these flats, an efficient little fellow who lives in a burrow. He moves very rapidly, and is armed with claws which can pinch painfully. He retires backward into his hole, so that to come at him from above is to invite his weapons. The little boys solved the problem for us. We offered ten centavos for each one they took. They dug into the rubble and old coral until they got behind the ghost shrimp in his burrow, then, prodding, they drove him outraged from his hole. Then they banged him good to reduce his pinching power. We refused to buy the banged-up ones-they had to get us lively ones. Small boys are the best collectors in the world. Soon they worked out a technique for catching the shrimps with only an occasionally pinched finger, and then the ten-centavo pieces began running out, and an increasing cloud of little boys brought us specimens. Small boys have such sharp eyes, and they are quick to notice deviation. Once they know you are generally curious, they bring amazing things. Perhaps we only practice an extension of their urge. It is easy to remember when we were small and lay on our stomachs beside a tide pool and our minds and eyes went so deeply into it that size and ident.i.ty were lost, and the creeping hermit crab was our size and the tiny octopus a monster. Then the waving algae covered us and we hid under a rock at the bottom and leaped out at fish. It is very possible that we, and even those who probe s.p.a.ce with equations, simply extend this wonder.

Among small-boy groups there is usually a stupid one who understands nothing, who brings dull things, rocks and pieces of weed, and pretends that he knows what he does. When we think of La Paz, it is always of the small boys that we think first, for we had many dealings with them on many levels.

The profile of this flat was easy to get. The ghost shrimps, called "langusta, " "langusta, " were quite common; our enemy the stinging worm was about to make us careful of our fingers; the big brittle-stars were there under the old coral, but not in such great ma.s.ses as at Espiritu Santo. A number of sponges clung to the stones, and small decorated crabs skulked in the interstices. Beautiful purple polyclad worms crawled over lawns of purple tunicates; the giant oyster-like hacha were quite common; our enemy the stinging worm was about to make us careful of our fingers; the big brittle-stars were there under the old coral, but not in such great ma.s.ses as at Espiritu Santo. A number of sponges clung to the stones, and small decorated crabs skulked in the interstices. Beautiful purple polyclad worms crawled over lawns of purple tunicates; the giant oyster-like hacha27 was not often found, but we took a few specimens. There were several growth forms of the common corals was not often found, but we took a few specimens. There were several growth forms of the common corals28; the larger and handsomer of the two slim asteroids29; anemones of at least three types; some club urchins and snails and many hydroids.

Some of the exposed snails were so masked with forests of algae and hydroids that they were invisible to us. We found a worm-like fixed gastropod,30 many bivalves, including the long peanut-shaped boring clam many bivalves, including the long peanut-shaped boring clam31; large brilliant-orange nudibranchs; hermit crabs; mantids ; flatworms which seemed to flow over the rocks like living gelatin; sipunculids; and many limpets. There were a few sun-stars, but not so many or so large as they had been at Cape San Lucas.

The little boys ran to and fro with full hands, and our buckets and tubes were soon filled. The ten-centavo pieces had long run out, and ten little boys often had to join a club whose center and interest was a silver peso, to be changed and divided later. They seemed to trust one another for the division. And certainly they felt there was no chance of their being robbed. Perhaps they are not civilized and do not know how valuable money is. The poor little savages seem not to have learned the great principle of cheating one another.

The population of small boys at La Paz is tremendous, and we had business dealings with a good part of it. Hardly had we returned to the Western Flyer and begun to lay out our specimens when we were invaded. Word had spread that there were crazy people in port who gave money for things a boy could pick up on the rocks. We were more than invaded-we were deluged with small boys bearing specimens. They came out in canoes, in flat-boats, some even swam out, and all of them carried specimens. Some of the things they brought we wanted and some we did not want. There were hurt feelings about this, but no bitterness. Battalions of boys swarmed back to the flats and returned again. The second day little boys came even from the hills, and they brought every conceivable living thing. If we had not sailed the second night they would have swamped the boat. Meanwhile, in our dealings on sh.o.r.e, more small boys were involved. They carried packages, ran errands, directed us (mostly wrongly), tried to antic.i.p.ate our wishes; but one boy soon emerged. He was not like the others. His shoulders were not slender, but broad, and there was a hint about his face and expression that seemed Germanic or perhaps Anglo-Saxon. Whereas the other little boys lived for the job and the payment, this boy created jobs and looked ahead. He did errands that were not necessary, he made himself indispensable. Late at night he waited, and the first dawn saw him on our deck. Further, the other small boys seemed a little afraid of him, and gradually they faded into the background and left him in charge.

Some day this boy will be very rich and La Paz will be proud of him, for he will own the things other people must buy or rent. He has the look and the method of success. Even the first day success went to his head, and he began to cheat us a little. We did not mind, for it is a good thing to be cheated a little; it causes a geniality and can be limited fairly easily. His method was simple. He performed a task, and then, getting each of us alone, he collected for the job so that he was paid several times. We decided we would not use him any more, but the other little boys decided even better than we. He disappeared, and later we saw him in the town, his nose and lips heavily bandaged. We had the story from another little boy. Our financial wizard told the others that he was our sole servant and that we had said that they weren't to come around any more. But they discovered the lie and waylaid him and beat him very badly. He wasn't a very brave little boy, but he will be a rich one because he wants to. The others wanted only sweets or a new handkerchief, but the aggressive little boy wishes to be rich, and they will not be able to compete with him.

On the evening of our sailing we had rather a sad experience with another small boy. We had come ash.o.r.e for a stroll, leaving our boat tied to a log on the beach. We walked up the curiously familiar streets and ended, oddly enough, in a bar to have a gla.s.s of beer. It was a large bar with high ceilings, and nearly deserted. As we sat sipping our beer we saw a ferocious face scowling at us. It was a very small, very black Indian boy, and the look in his eyes was one of hatred. He stared at us so long and so fiercely that we finished our gla.s.ses and got up to go. But outside he fell into step with us, saying nothing. We walked back through the softly lighted streets, and he kept pace. But near the beach he began to pant deeply. Finally we got to the beach and as we were about to untie the skiff he shouted in panic, "Cinco centavos!" "Cinco centavos!" and stepped back as from a blow. And then it seemed that we could see almost how it was. We have been the same way trying to get a job. Perhaps the father of this little boy said, "Stupid one, there are strangers in the town and they are throwing money away. Here sits your father with a sore leg and you do nothing. Other boys are becoming rich, but you, because of your sloth, are not taking advantage of this miracle. Senor Ruiz had a cigar this afternoon and a gla.s.s of beer at the and stepped back as from a blow. And then it seemed that we could see almost how it was. We have been the same way trying to get a job. Perhaps the father of this little boy said, "Stupid one, there are strangers in the town and they are throwing money away. Here sits your father with a sore leg and you do nothing. Other boys are becoming rich, but you, because of your sloth, are not taking advantage of this miracle. Senor Ruiz had a cigar this afternoon and a gla.s.s of beer at the cantina cantina because his fine son is not like you. When have you known me, your father, to have a cigar? Never. Now go and bring back some little piece of money." because his fine son is not like you. When have you known me, your father, to have a cigar? Never. Now go and bring back some little piece of money."

Then that little boy, hating to do it, was burdened with it nevertheless. He hated us, just as we have hated the men we have had to ask for jobs. And he was afraid, too, for we were foreigners. He put it off as long as he could, but when we were about to go he had to ask and he made it very humble. Five centavos. It did seem that we knew how hard it had been. We gave him a peso, and then he smiled broadly and he looked about for something he could do for us. The boat was tied up, and he attacked the water-soaked knot like a terrier, even working at it with his teeth. But he was too little and he could not do it. He nearly cried then. We cast off and pushed the boat away, and he waded out to guide us as far as he could. We felt both good and bad about it; we hope his father bought a cigar and an aguardiente, aguardiente, and became mellow and said to a group of men in that little boy's hearing, "Now you take Juanito. You have rarely seen such a good son. This very cigar is a gift to his father who has hurt his leg. It is a matter of pride, my friends, to have a son like Juanito." And we hope he gave Juanito, if that was his name, five centavos to buy an ice and a paper bull with a firecracker inside. and became mellow and said to a group of men in that little boy's hearing, "Now you take Juanito. You have rarely seen such a good son. This very cigar is a gift to his father who has hurt his leg. It is a matter of pride, my friends, to have a son like Juanito." And we hope he gave Juanito, if that was his name, five centavos to buy an ice and a paper bull with a firecracker inside.

No doubt we were badly cheated in La Paz. Perhaps the boatmen cheated us and maybe we paid too much for supplies-it is very hard to know. And besides, we were so incredibly rich that we couldn't tell, and we had no instinct for knowing when we were cheated. Here we were rich, but in our own country it was not so. The very rich develop an instinct which tells them when they are cheated. We knew a rich man who owned several large office buildings. Once in reading his reports he found that two electric-light bulbs had been stolen from one of the toilets in one of his office buildings. It hurt him; he brooded for weeks about it. "Civilization is dying," he said. "Whom can you trust any more? This little theft is an indication that the whole people is morally rotten."

But we were so newly rich that we didn't know, and besides we were a little flattered. The boatmen raised their price as soon as they saw the Sea-Cow wouldn't work, but as they said, times are very hard and there is no money.

12.

MARCH 22.

This was Good Friday, and we scrubbed ourselves and put on our best clothes and went to church, all of us. We were a kind of parade on the way to church, feeling foreign and out of place. In the dark church it was cool, and there were a great many people, old women in their black shawls and Indians kneeling motionless on the floor. It was not a very rich church, and it was old and out of repair. But a choir of small black children made the Stations of the Cross. They sang music that sounded like old Spanish madrigals, and their voices were shrill and sharp. Sometimes they faltered a little bit on the melody, but they hit the end of each line shrieking. When they had finished, a fine-looking young priest with a thin ascetic face and the hot eyes of fervency preached from over their heads. He filled the whole church with his faith, and the people were breathlessly still. The ugly b.l.o.o.d.y Christs and the simpering Virgins and the over-dressed saints were suddenly out of it. The priest was purer and cleaner and stronger than they. Out of his own purity he seemed to plead for them. After a long time we got up and went out of the dark cool church into the blinding white sunlight.

The streets were very quiet on Good Friday, and no wind blew in the trees, the air was full of the day-a kind of hush, as though the world awaited a little breathlessly the dreadful experiment of Christ with death and h.e.l.l; the testing in a furnace of an idea. And the trees and the hills and the people seemed to wait as a man waits when his wife is having a baby, expectant and frightened and horrified and half unbelieving.

There is no certainty that the Easter of the Resurrection will really come. We were probably literarily affected by the service and the people and their feeling about it, the crippled and the pained who were in the church, the little half-hungry children, the ancient women with eyes of patient tragedy who stared up at the plaster saints with eyes of such pleading. We liked them and we felt at peace with them. And strolling slowly through the streets we thought a long time of these people in the church. We thought of the spirits of kindness which periodically cause them to be fed, a little before they are dropped back to hunger. And we thought of the good men who labored to cure them of disease and poverty.

And then we thought of what they are, and we are-products of disease and sorrow and hunger and alcoholism. And suppose some all-powerful mind and will should cure our species so that for a number of generations we would be healthy and happy? We are the products of our disease and suffering. These are factors as powerful as other genetic factors. To cure and feed would be to change the species, and the result would be another animal entirely. We wonder if we would be able to tolerate our own species without a history of syphilis and tuberculosis. We don't know.

Certain communicants of the neurological conditioning religions practiced by cowardly people who, by narrowing their emotional experience, hope to broaden their lives, lead us to think we would not like this new species. These religionists, being afraid not only of pain and sorrow but even of joy, can so protect themselves that they seem dead to us. The new animal resulting from purification of the species might be one we wouldn't like at all. For it is through struggle and sorrow that people are able to partic.i.p.ate in one another-the heartlessness of the healthy, well-fed, and unsorrowful person has in it an infinite smugness.

On the water's edge of La Paz a new hotel was going up, and it looked very expensive. Probably the airplanes will bring week-enders from Los Angeles before long, and the beautiful poor bedraggled old town will bloom with a Floridian ugliness.

Hearing a burst of chicken voices, we looked over a mud wall and saw that there were indeed chickens in the yard behind it. We asked then of a woman if we might buy several. They could be sold, she said, but they were not what one calls "for sale." We entered her yard. One of the proofs that they were not for sale was that we had to catch them ourselves. We picked out two which looked a little less muscular than the others, and went for them. Whatever has been said, true or not, of the indolence of the Lower Californian is entirely untrue of his chickens. They were athletes, highly trained both in speed and in methods of escape. They could run, fly, and, when cornered, disappear entirely and re-materialize in another part of the yard. If the owner did not want to catch them, that hesitancy was not shared by the rest of La Paz. People and children came from everywhere; a mob collected, first to give excited advice and then to help. A pillar of dust arose out of that yard. Small boys hurled themselves at the chickens like football-players. We were bound to catch them sooner or later, for as one group became exhausted, another took up the chase. If we had played fair and given those chickens rest periods, we would never have caught them. But by keeping at them, we finally wore them down and they were caught, completely exhausted and almost shorn of their feathers. Everyone in the mob felt good and happy then and we paid for the chickens and left.

On board it was Sparky's job to kill them, and he hated it. But finally he cut their heads off and was sick. He hung them over the side to bleed and a boat came along and mashed them flat against our side. But even then they were tough. They had the most highly developed muscles we have ever seen. Their legs were like those of ballet dancers and there was no softness in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. We stewed them for many hours and it did no good whatever. We were sorry to kill them, for they were gallant, fast chickens. In our country they could easily have got scholarships in one of our great universities and had collegiate careers, for they had spirit and fight and, for all we know, loyalty.

On the afternoon tide we were to collect on El Mogote, a low sandy peninsula with a great expanse of shallows which would be exposed at low tide. The high-tide level was defined by a heavy growth of mangrove. The area was easily visible from our anchorage, and the sand was smooth and not filled with rubble or stones or coral. A tall handsome boy of about nineteen had been idling about the Western Flyer. Western Flyer. He had his own canoe, and he offered to paddle us to the tide flats. This boy's name was Raul Velez; he spoke some English and was of great service to us, for his understanding was quick and he helped valuably at the collecting. He told us the local names of many of the animals we had taken; "cornuda" was the hammer-head shark; "barco," the red snapper; "caracol," and also "burral," all snails in general, but particularly the large conch. Urchins were called "erizo" and sea-fans, "abanico." "Bromas" were barnacles and "hacha" the pinna, or large clam. He had his own canoe, and he offered to paddle us to the tide flats. This boy's name was Raul Velez; he spoke some English and was of great service to us, for his understanding was quick and he helped valuably at the collecting. He told us the local names of many of the animals we had taken; "cornuda" was the hammer-head shark; "barco," the red snapper; "caracol," and also "burral," all snails in general, but particularly the large conch. Urchins were called "erizo" and sea-fans, "abanico." "Bromas" were barnacles and "hacha" the pinna, or large clam.

The sand flats were very interesting. We dug up a number of Dentaliums of two species, the first we had found. These animals, which look like slen