I had had suspicion during my stay at Merida as to Yucatan having any postal or telegraphic administration, for a number of my telegrams were left unanswered, and my inquiries were met with the evasive reply that the line was not in good order. That such was the case I could now plainly see for myself. A wire which skirted the wood had indeed been laid, but having no poles or insulators it trusted to fate to get fixed now and again to a branch or a tree, which, bending with the breeze, allowed it to trail among the rocks or get entangled in the brambles. Wonderful to relate, a message sometimes reached its destination; a great step forward as compared to Tabasco, where no sooner is the wire laid than it is purloined by the inhabitants, who, it seems, find it useful. But our volan suddenly stops, and the driver draws our attention to an important cenoté known as Xcolac, shaded by beautiful trees and full of fish. On its banks a number of Indians are filling their gourds to the brim, and with simple grace offer us a drink of its cool, fresh pure water. It argues strange apathy in the natives that in a country where water is so scarce, a hamlet or hacienda should not have been erected around it. We re-enter our cochés and reach Tumbras, formerly a flourishing place, about eleven o’clock; it was burnt down during the civil wars and has not been rebuilt. We alight before a decent-looking house, having a tienda stocked with salt, tobacco, wine, liqueurs, preserves, sardines, and American hams. For whom are all these good things? I was going to ask, when I recollected that a garrison is stationed here.
Our host, a fat, red-faced man, receives us with a profusion of smiles, putting “everything in his house at our feet.” Warned by sad experience, feeling, moreover, as hungry as schoolboys after a game of cricket, we stammered out for the usual “portion” in the shortest possible delay, but what was our agreeable surprise to find a menu consisting of strong clear soup, a sardine omelette, beefsteak, French beans, wine, English beer, and excellent coffee!
CENOTÉ OF XCOLAC.
Meanwhile the commander, who had received instructions with regard to our mission, came in just as we were sitting down; he was immediately invited to join our party, which he did with alacrity, for the life of an officer quartered in this out-of-the-way place, without a soul to speak to from year’s end to year’s end, whose sole business consists in the morning and evening parades, or giving the order of the day, must be indescribably monotonous and trying in the extreme.
The presence of our volan has set the village in motion; soon a number of people are seen crossing the deserted plaza in our direction: some are old and decrepit, and all look as though they could hardly stand on their rickety legs, for the able-bodied men are in the fields preparing the milpa, cleaning the ground for the sowing of Indian corn. They invade the tienda, peering into our room; the boldest advances with rolling gait, to have a nearer view of our group, delivering himself of a little speech in the Maya tongue, presumably indiscreet, to judge by the amused smiles of the company. The commandant desires him to leave the room, but he refuses, and has to be ejected by the united efforts of two orderlies.
Refreshed with our excellent luncheon, our pleasant chat, and last, not least, a respite from the too lively coché, we set out, and do not stop again until we reach Quintana-Roo, sometimes used as a basis by the revolted natives in their expeditions, whence they sallied forth for their razzias, carrying off the women, and massacring the men, except in the rare instances when a large ransom might be looked for; this, however, did not always save the poor wretch, who, his money being paid, was ruthlessly butchered by these savages.
Quintana is about as small a place as can be conceived, consisting of one small fort garrisoned by twelve men, and one house; in the landlord of the latter I recognise my old guide, who in 1859 accompanied me to Chichen. My old acquaintance is now a prosperous man, with a nice house, a tienda and poultry-yard well stocked, while a comely wife, lovely children, and pretty Meztizas, attend to the business of the household and enliven it. My friend insists on our having some chocolate, and wishes to be again our guide to Chichen. I am delighted, and with expressions of mutual regard we take leave of this charming family, en route for Citas, where we arrive so late in the evening that everybody had given us up, so that nothing had been prepared, and the people did not seem inclined to bestir themselves for us. No house or room was to be had. It was fortunately holiday time; the school-room was placed at our disposal, in which we at once deposited our camp-beds and other paraphernalia. The next thing was how to get something to eat, and we should have gone supperless to bed, if the magistrate and the mayor had not kindly interfered in our behalf, and partly by coaxing, partly by the weight of their authority, induced the people to bring out the contents of their larder.
Here we leave the volan for saddle-horses, mules, and tamenes, for our next stage is through thick woods right across country. Our preparations take a good deal of time; horses are scarce and have to come some distance, while tamenes must be brought down from their extravagant prices before we can think of engaging them. The same difficulties have beset us everywhere; the natives deeming fair game any one so insane or ridiculous as to come from distant lands to view some crumbling stones; of course he has more money than he knows what to do with, and it is only common justice to ease him of some of his surplus. We despatch our men a day in advance to open the way through the woods, while we tarry to witness a jardana, native dance, to which an invitation in due form, that we “would honour the same with our presence,” has been received.
“What, you dance here?” I exclaimed on first hearing of it; “but you told me that your life and property were continually threatened; that you never knew when you lay down at night whether you would not be massacred by your revolted countrymen, ere another day dawned.”