Some years ago, when on board a steamer which had run ashore on the Tampico River, in Mexico, I had experiences of what these small pests were capable of accomplishing. On that occasion a companion and myself had been so severely bitten about the ankles, wrists, and face that any casual observer would have avoided contact with us for fear of taking smallpox. Dreading a further experience of these insects, I covered up my face with a handkerchief, and mumbled to myself the poet’s plea:
“I crave but this: That from the different kinds
Of insects cursing night and day
(The entomologist claims that he finds
Five hundred thousand so they say),
“Thou wilt at once destroy, annihilate,
Permit no longer to exist—
Efface, cut off, rub out, obliterate
The pesky sandfly from the list!”
At last half-stifled I fell into a disturbed slumber, from which, very early in the morning, I was awakened by the screams of the birds, monkeys, and parrots all round, and on looking out of the hut the strange beauty of the scene made me eager to get up and go outside to take ample stock of the camp and surroundings. The heavy morning mists hung all around, imparting a soft, mysterious aspect to the forest. It was as if an elusive veil of finest silver gauze had been spread from tree to tree by hidden fairy fingers. The smoke ascending from the camp fires seemed almost solid against the pearly background of the
SEBASTIAN.
woods, and so unreal did it all appear that one expected every moment it would fade away, as dreams do. And so it did, for as the sun rose higher the mists melted and disappeared, and the strange outlines and varied forms of trees and creeping vines stood plainly forth. We went down to a stream that ran near the camp and bathed in water that was warm but still refreshing. On our return we found the men whose huts were about forty yards away from ours busy preparing and eating their morning meal, sharpening machetes, spreading out damp clothes to dry, mending and patching garments that seemed unworthy of attention, drying, or trying to dry, great hobnailed boots by placing them over fires that shot up threatening flames around them. One man was at a biscuit tin filled with water, rinsing and beating a mud-stained shirt, in the vain endeavour to cleanse it from the all-pervading dirt; while near him another hacked with a machete at a pair of heavy top boots, removing great slices of half-dried mud at every blow. But all of them abruptly ceased from their occupations when Harvey and his comrade came shouting gleefully into the clearing. They were sorry-looking wrecks, mud-stained and dishevelled, with their clothes hanging about them in tatters. All the camp crowded round them, and I was rather relieved to find that Harvey had not abandoned the great bundle which contained, amongst other things, my clothes; and while he untied the parcel we questioned him about his experiences in the bush. He was quite sober now, but although he had regained some of his natural obsequious manner, he was inclined to be a trifle boastful after the night’s exploit. “What man dat say dere be ‘duppies’ in the wood?” he asked vehemently. “Dat man he lie, for dere don’t be no ‘duppies,’ no, not one at all, in de whole bush. Dere don’t be nothin’ ’cept them monkeys, tigers, snakes, and other tings.” “But you were a little frightened, Harvey, weren’t you?” I inquired.
“No, massa, not a bit frightened, not a bit. Sebastian, he war kin’ o’ skeered, so I made him light a fire to keep away dem tiger cats, and made him keep awake, to see if any ob dem ‘duppies’ was about. But dere don’t be no ‘duppies,’ not a ting in de bush at all to be skeered of.”
In consideration for the trials the two men had passed through, they were permitted to take a day off work and recover from the fright they had undoubtedly received; and, if I am not mistaken, Harvey had suffered more alarm than his dull and less imaginative companion. After this interlude the day’s work began in real earnest, each surveyor taking with him an escort of five or six labourers, to cut their way in different directions, measuring levels and distances, and surveying the contour of the country. The troches which they cut into the bush form long, straight tunnels, but the progress they make is slow. Each day the distance from the camp cut in this manner is increased, and parties have a two hours’ walk through the troches before they arrive at the point they had reached the previous day. The levels and the land surveyed during the morning are carefully recorded and marked on the large charts upon the return to camp. Thus day after day knowledge is gained of a country hitherto untrodden by human footsteps. The party that I was visiting had been engaged upon this work for over six months, and one of their number had never once during all that period left the bush. Magazines, newspapers, and letters arrived at camp once a week, but visitors never came, and mine was the first strange face he had seen for half a year. He was a quiet cultured, well-educated youth, energetic, and in love with his work, well content to be gaining an experience in his profession denied to those less venturous and plodding than himself. On my return journey from the camp I was guided by a small Indian boy, strong, fleet of foot, who although encumbered with my baggage yet raced along the trail with such rapidity that I was in danger of losing sight of him. After a mile or two I wished to call a halt, but was unsuccessful in making him understand my wishes, so I was forced to keep up with him as best I could, and wait until we arrived at the deserted camp before taking a rest. When we arrived I sat again in the shelter afforded by the now abandoned hut, and rested for an hour or more, marvelling at the wonder all around me. Confused masses of shrubs and plants met my gaze, which would have been greeted with enthusiastic admiration if seen in English hot-houses. Wild bananas grew in large clumps, their long leaves torn by the wind, their stems covered with climbing ferns. Bamboos sixty or seventy feet high swayed in the faintest breeze and creaked in every joint.
The richest woodland in northern latitudes is tame compared with the tropical forest. During the midday heat the leaves where the sun beats on them became lax and drooping and languishing for the rain to come and cheer them. While I sat there under the shade of the rude cabin the heat and tension became almost insupportable, and languor and sleepiness fell upon me. As the sun blazed down upon the clearing myriads of humming, buzzing insects filled the air. The white rolling clouds which passed overhead were quickly changing to a leaden hue, and darkness, intensified by contrast with the brilliant light it superseded, covered the scene. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and deafened with its noise. A mighty wind arose and swayed the tall trees all around, the rustling of whose million leaves added to the roaring sound that made my head grow dizzy. Then the rain came. Nothing can compare with the storm that burst. Even the thickly padded roof of palm leaves above my head was not impervious to the deluge, and very soon I was wet with the great splashes that came bursting through. So violent was its descent, that upon reaching the earth the water rebounded in all directions, so that even had the roof proved water-tight, sufficient water found entrance upwards to swamp the hut. The storm ceased as suddenly as it had come, the black clouds dissipated and passed away, then the serene, deep blue sky again looked down upon the glistening landscape. Before leaving the clearing I strolled around, and one giant tree of enormous girth attracted my attention. The buttresses at its base made by the roots rising out of the ground formed huge stalls that would have accommodated six good-sized ponies. Its age, not easily determined, must have been great, and it had seen thousands of storms like the one that had just passed over it. It was long past its early youth when Europeans first landed on these shores. The ancients supposed that trees were all immortal, and modern botanists have proved that many are almost indestructible, and may have witnessed the struggles of the earliest man. At last we started off to complete the journey home. When we arrived at the bank of the river we were fortunate in discovering a canoe moored to a branch. I felt a little reluctant to trust myself to the skill of the mere boy who accompanied me, but there was no help for it, so seating myself at one end of the narrow craft I awaited anxiously our arrival on the opposite bank. In spite of his diminutive proportions, however, the urchin was quite an adept with the paddle, and accomplished the journey against a swiftly flowing stream in a manner that showed he was accustomed to the navigation of the river. After we landed the journey was comparatively easy, but I was glad when we arrived at the headquarters house from which I had started. Finding my way along the railway track past houses inhabited by workers on the line, I arrived at the village and railway station, whence I got a train that carried me back to comparative civilisation.