Chapter XIII.
At noon, on the second day of our departure from Cape Gracias, we came to a considerable stream, named Bocay, which enters the river Wanks from the south-west. It was on the banks of this river, some ten or fifteen miles above its mouth, that the famed Sukia woman resided. We directed our boats up the stream, the water of which was clear, and flowed with a rapid current. We were not long in passing through the belt of savannah which flanks the Cape River, on both sides, for fifty miles above its mouth. Beyond this came dense primitive forests of gigantic trees, among which the mahogany was conspicuous. The banks, too, became high and firm, occasionally presenting rocky promontories, around which the water swept in dark eddies. Altogether, it was evident that we had entered the mountain region of the continent, and were at the foot of one of the great dependent ranges of the primitive chain of the Cordilleras.
In places, the river was compressed among high hills, with scarped, rocky faces, where the current was rapid and powerful, and only overcome by vigorous efforts at the paddles. These were succeeded by beautiful intervals of level ground, inviting localities for the establishments of man. We passed two or three sweet and sheltered nooks, in which were small clearings, and the picturesque huts of the Indians. Excepting an occasional palm-tree, or isolated cluster of plantains, clinging to the shore where their germs had been lodged by the water, there was nothing tropical in the aspect of nature, unless, perhaps, the greater size of the forest-trees, and the variety of parasitic plants which they supported.
Our progress against the current was comparatively slow and laborious, and it was late in the evening when the glittering of fires on the bank, and the barking of dogs, announced to us the proximity of the Indian village of Bocay, to which we were bound. We reached it in due time, and were received quite ceremoniously by the old men of the place, who seemed to be perfectly aware of our coming. This struck me at the time as due to the foresight of Mr. H., but I afterward learned that he had given the Indians no intimation of our proposed visit.
A vacant hut was assigned to us, and we commenced to arrange our hammocks and prepare our supper. Our meal was scarcely finished, when there was a sudden movement among the Indians, who clustered like bees around our door, and a passage for some one approaching was rapidly opened. A moment afterward, an old woman came forward, and, stopping in the low doorway, regarded us in silence. In bearing and dress she differed much from the rest of the people. Around her forehead she wore a broad band of cotton, in which were braided the most brilliant feathers of birds. This band confined her hair, which hung down her back, like a vail, nearly to the ground. From her waist depended a kilt of tiger-skins, and she wore sandals of the same on her feet. Around each wrist and ankle she had broad feather bands, like that which encircled her forehead.
Her eyes soon rested upon Antonio, who, on the instant of her approach, had discontinued his work, and advanced to the door. They exchanged a glance as if of recognition, and spoke a few hurried and, to us, unintelligible words, when the old woman turned suddenly, and walked away. I looked inquiringly at the youthful Indian, whose eyes glowed again with that mysterious intelligence which I had so often remarked.
He came hastily to my side, and whispered in Spanish, “The Mother of the Tigers is waiting!” Then, with nervous steps, he moved toward the door. I beckoned to H., and followed. The Indians opened to the right and left, and we passed out, scarcely able to keep pace with the rapid steps of the Indian boy. On he went, as if familiar with the place, past the open huts, and into the dark forest. I now saw that he followed a light, not like that of a flame, but of a burning coal, which looked close at one moment, and distant the next. The path, though narrow, was smooth, and ascended rapidly. For half an hour we kept on at the same quick pace, when the trees began to separate, and I could see that we were emerging from the dark forest into a comparatively open space, in which the graceful plumes of the palm-trees appeared, traced lightly against the starry sky. Here the guiding fire seemed to halt, and, coming up, we found the same old woman who had visited us in the village, and who now carried a burning brand as a direction to our steps. She made a sign of silence, and moved on slowly, and with apparent caution. A few minutes’ walk brought us to what, in the dim light, appeared to be a building of stone, and soon after to another and larger one. I saw that they were partly ruined, for the stars in the horizon were visible through the open doorways. Our guide passed these without stopping, and led us to the threshold of a small cane-built hut, which stood beyond the ruin. The door was open, and the light from within shone out on the smoothly beaten ground in front, in a broad unwavering column. We entered; but for the moment I was almost blinded by a blaze of light proceeding from torches of pine-wood, planted in each corner. I was startled also by an angry growl, and the sudden apparition of some wild animal at our feet. I shrank back with a feeling of alarm, which was not diminished when, upon recovering my powers of vision, I saw directly in front of us, as if guardian of the dwelling, a large tiger, its fierce eyes fixed upon us, and slowly sweeping the ground with its long tail, as if preparing to spring at our throats.
It, however, stopped the way only for a moment. A single word and gesture from the old woman drove it into a corner of the hut, where it crouched down in quiet. I glanced around, but excepting a single rude Indian drum, placed in the centre of the smooth, earthen floor, and a few blocks of stone planted along the walls for seats, there were no other articles, either of use or ornament, in the hut. But at one extremity of the low apartment, seated upon an outspread tiger-skin, was a woman, whose figure and manner at once marked her out as the extraordinary Sukia whom we had come so far to visit. She was young, certainly not over twenty, tall, and perfectly formed, and wore a tiger-skin in the same manner as the old woman who had acted as her messenger, but the band around her forehead, and her armlets and anklets, were of gold.
She rose when we entered, and, with a faint smile of recognition to H., spoke a few words of welcome. I had expected to see a bold pretender to supernatural powers, whose first efforts would be directed to work upon the imaginations of her visitors, and was surprised to find that the “Mother of the Tigers” was after all only a shy and timid Indian girl. Her looks, at first, were troubled, and she glanced into our eyes inquiringly; but suddenly turning her gaze toward the open door, she uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise and joy, and in an instant after she stood by the side of Antonio. They gazed at each other in silence, then exchanged a rapid signal, and a single word, when she turned away, and Antonio retired into a corner, where he remained fixed as a statue, regarding every movement with the closest attention.
“THE MOTHER OF THE TIGERS.”
No sooner had the Sukia resumed her seat, than she clasped her forehead in her open palms, and gazed intently upon the ground before her. Never have I seen the face of a human being which wore a more earnest expression. For five minutes, perhaps, the silence was unbroken, when a sudden sound, as of the snapping of the string of a violin, directed our attention to the rude drum that stood in the centre of the hut. This sound was followed by a series of crackling noises, like the discharges of electric sparks. They seemed to occur irregularly at first, but as I listened, I discovered that they had a harmonious relationship, as if in accompaniment to some simple melody. The vibrations of the drum were distinctly visible, and they seemed to give it a circular motion over the ground, from left to right. The sounds stopped as suddenly as they had commenced, and the Sukia, lifting her head, said solemnly, “The spirits of your fathers have come to the mountain! I know them not; you must speak to them.”
I hesitate to recount what I that night witnessed in the rude hut of the Sukia, lest my testimony should expose both my narrative and myself to ridicule, and unjust imputations. Were it my purpose to elaborate an impressive story, it would be easy to call in the aid of an imposing machinery, and invest the communications which were that night made to us with a portentous significance. But this would be as foreign to truth as repugnant to my own feelings; for whatever tone of lightness may run through this account of my adventures in the wilderness, those who know me will bear witness to my respect for those things which are in their nature sacred, or connected with the more mysterious elements of our existence. I can only say, that except the somewhat melo-dramatic manner in which we had been conducted up the mountain by the messenger of the Sukia, and the incident of the tamed tiger, nothing occurred during our visit which appeared to have been designed for effect, or which was visibly out of the ordinary course of things. It is true, I was somewhat puzzled, I will not say impressed, with the perfect understanding, or relationship, which seemed to exist between the Sukia and Antonio. This relationship, however, was fully explained in the sequel. Among the ruling and the priestly classes of the semi-civilized nations of America, there has always existed a mysterious bond, or secret organization, which all the disasters to which they have been subjected, have not destroyed. It is to its present existence that we may attribute those simultaneous movements of the aborigines of Mexico, Central America, and Peru, which have, more than once, threatened the complete subversion of the Spanish power.
THE SANCTUARY OF THE SUKIA.
It was past midnight when, with a new and deeper insight into the mysteries of our present and future existence, and a fuller and loftier appreciation of the great realities which are to follow upon the advent of every soul into the universe, and of which earth is scarcely the initiation, that H. and myself left the sanctuary of the Sukia. The moon had risen, and now silvered every object with its steady light, revealing to us that we stood upon a narrow terrace of the mountain, facing the east, and commanding a vast panorama of forest and savannah, bounded only by the distant sea. Immediately in front of the hut from which we had emerged, stood one of the ruined structures to which I have already alluded. By the clear light of the moon I could perceive that it was built of large stones, laid with the greatest regularity, and sculptured all over with strange figures, having a close resemblance, if not an absolute identity, with those which have become familiarized to us by the pencil of Catherwood. It appeared originally to have been of two stories, but the upper walls had fallen, and the ground was encumbered with the rubbish, over which vines were trailing, as if to vail the crumbling ruins from the gaze of men. As we moved away, and at a considerable distance from the ruins, we observed a large erect stone, rudely sculptured in the outline of a human figure. Its face was turned to the East, as if to catch the first rays of the morning, and the light of the moon fell full upon it. To my surprise, its features were the exact counterparts of those which appeared on Antonio’s talisman. There was no mistaking the rigid yet not ungentle expression of the “Lord who never lies.”
Silently we followed the guide, who had conducted us up the mountain, into the narrow path which led to the village. She indicated to us the direction we were to pursue with her hand, and left us without a word. I was so absorbed in my own reflections that it was not until we had reached our temporary quarters that I missed Antonio. He had remained behind. But when I awoke next morning he had returned, and was busily preparing for our departure. “It is well with our brothers of the mountains!” was his prompt response to my look of inquiry. From that day forward his absorbing idea seemed to be to return as speedily as possible to his people. It was long afterward that I discovered the deep significance of the visit of the youthful chieftain of the Itzaes to the Indian seeress of the River Bocay. Since then the Spaniard, though fenced round with bayonets, has often shuddered when he has heard the cry of the tiger in the stillness of the night, betraying the approach of those injured men, whose relentless arms, nerved by the recollections of three centuries of oppression, now threaten the utter extermination of the race of the conquerors!
Our passage down the Bocay was rapid compared with the ascent, and at noon we had reached the great river. My course now lay in one direction, and that of Mr. H. in another, but we were loth to separate, and he finally agreed to accompany us to our first stopping-place, and, passing the night with us there, return next day to the Cape. It was scarcely four o’clock when we reached the designated point, chiefly remarkable as marking the termination of the savannahs. Beyond here the banks of the river became elevated, rising in hills and high mountains, densely covered with a gigantic primeval forest. Our Indian companions speedily supplied us with an abundance of fish, with which the river seemed to swarm. And as for vegetables—wherever the banks of the river are low there is a profusion of bananas and plantains, growing from bulbs, which have been brought down from the interior, and deposited by the river in its overflows.
Mr. H. had once ascended the river to its source, in the elevated mining district of New Segovia, the extreme north-western department of Nicaragua. The ascent had occupied him twenty days. In many places, he said, the channel is completely interrupted by falls and impassable rapids, around which it was necessary to drag the canoes. In other places the river is compressed between vertical walls of rock, and the water runs with such force that it required many attempts and the most vigorous exertions to get the boats through.
He represented that New Segovia has a considerable population of civilized Indians, whose principal occupation is the washing of gold, which is found in all of the upper waters. Their mode of life he described as affording a curious illustration of the influence of the Catholic priests, who are scattered here and there, and who exercise almost unbounded influence over the simple natives. The nature of their relationship, as well as their own manners, were so well illustrated by an incident which befell him during his visit there, that I shall attempt to relate it, as nearly as possible in his own words. The reader must bear in mind that the recital was made in a fragmentary manner, in the intervals of vigorous puffing at a huge cigar, and that I have taken the liberty of commencing at the beginning of the story, and not at the end.