Chapter IX.
Along the coast, from the Prinza-pulka river northward, as I have said, stretches a net-work of rivers and lagoons, for a distance of at least one hundred and fifty miles, terminating near Cape Gracias. These lagoons are broad and shallow, and bordered by extensive marshes. Wherever the dry ground does appear, strange to say, it is generally as a sandy savannah, undulating, and supporting few trees except the red, or long-leaved pine. These savannahs are only adapted for grazing, since the soil is too light and poor for cultivation, and fails to support any of the staple products, or any of the many esculent vegetables of the tropics, except the cassava. And although the few scattered inhabitants of the Mosquito Shore, above the Prinza-pulka, live upon the borders of the lagoons, selecting generally the savannahs for their villages, it is because they are essentially fishers, and derive their principal support from the sea. The islands of the coast abound with turtle, and the rivers, creeks, and lagoons teem with fish of nearly every variety known under the tropics. The few vegetables which they require are obtained from the banks of the rivers in the back country, where the streams flow through their proper valleys, and before they are lost in the low grounds of the coast. The plantations on these rivers belong to the Indians proper, whose numbers increase toward the interior, and who supply the Sambos, or coast-men, not only with vegetables, but also with the various kinds of boats which are used by them, receiving in exchange a few cottons, axes, trinkets, and other articles which are brought by the foreign traders. The character and habits of these Indians are widely different from those of the coast-men. The latter are drunken, idle, and vicious, while the former are mild, industrious, and temperate. The differences which I have indicated between the Indian settlement on the Rio Grande and the Sambo village of Wasswatla, hold equally true throughout, except that the farther the traveler proceeds northward from Bluefields, the more debased and brutal the Sambos become.
LIFE AMONG THE LAGOONS.
In attempting to thread my way through the maze of waters before us, I kept the facts which I have recounted constantly in view, and sought rather to penetrate inland, than diverge toward the coast. So, whenever two or more channels presented themselves, I universally took the inside one. This frequently led us into the rivers flowing from the interior, but their current speedily enabled us to correct these mistakes.
No incident relieved the monotony of our first night, after leaving “Tapir Camp.” Toward morning we paddled into the first opening in the mangroves that held out promise of concealment. We had the usual difficulties to encounter—fallen trees, and overhanging limbs; but when the morning broke we had worked our way to a spot where the creek expanded into a kind of subordinate lagoon, very shallow, and full of sandy islets, partly covered with grass and water-plants. At one spot on the shore the ground was elevated a few feet, supporting a number of large and ancient trees, heavily draped with vines, under which we encamped.