After a very frugal meal, my hammock was suspended between the trees, and I went to sleep. About noon I awoke, and spent the rest of the day in watching the various forms of animal life which found support in these secluded wilds. It seemed to me as if all the aquatic birds of the world were congregated there, in harmonious conclave. Long-shanked herons, with their necks drawn in, and their yellow bills resting on their breasts, stood meditatively on a single leg; troops of the white and scarlet ibis trotted actively along the open sands; and round-tailed darters, with their snaky necks and quick eyes, alighted in the trees around us—the only birds of all that assemblage which seemed to notice our intrusion! Then there were cranes, and gaudy, awkward spoonbills (clownish millionaires!) and occasionally a little squadron of blue-winged teal paddled gracefully by.
Overhead, a few noisy macaws sheltered themselves from the noonday heats. Among these, I saw, for the first time, the green variety, a more modest, and, to my taste, a far more beautiful bird, than his gaudier cousin. The large trees to which I have alluded, were of the variety known as the ceiba, or silk-cotton tree. They were now in their bloom, and crowned with a profusion of flowers of rich and variegated colors, but chiefly a bright carnation. It was a novel spectacle to see a gigantic tree, five or six feet in diameter, and eighty or ninety feet high, sending out long and massive limbs, yet bearing flowers like a rose-bush—a sort of man-milliner! Viewed from beneath, the flowers were scarcely visible, but their fragrance was overpowering, and the ground was carpeted with their gay leaves and delicate petals. But seen from a little distance, the ceiba-tree in bloom is one of the most splendid productions of Nature—a gigantic bouquet, which requires a whole forest to supply the contrasting green! The flowers are rapidly succeeded by a multitude of pods, which grow to the size and shape of a goose-egg. When ripe, they burst open, revealing the interior filled with a very soft, light cotton or silky fibre, attached as floats to diminutive seeds, which are thus wafted far and wide by the winds. This process is repeated three times a year. I am not aware that the cotton has ever been manufactured, or applied to any more useful purpose than that of stuffing pillows and mattresses.
The trunk of the ceiba, however, is invaluable to the natives. The wood is easily worked, and is, moreover, light and buoyant, and not liable to split by exposure to the sun. For these reasons, it is principally used for dories, pitpans, and the different varieties of boats required on the coast, although, for the smaller canoes, the cedar and mahogany are sometimes substituted. The mahogany boats, however, are rather heavy, while the cedar is liable to split in what is called “beaching.” I have seen dories hollowed from a single trunk of the ceiba, in which a tall man might comfortably lie at length across the bottom, and which were capable of carrying fifty persons.
But the ceibas of our encampment supported, besides their own verdure, a mass of lianes or climbers, of many varieties, as also, numerous parasitic plants, and among them the wild-pine or rain-plant, which served us a most useful purpose. Several of these grew in the principal forks of the trees, to the height of from four to six feet. Their leaves are broad, and wrap round on themselves, like a roll, forming reservoirs, in which the rain and dew is collected and retained, safe from sun and wind. Each leaf will hold about a quart of water, which looks clear and tempting in its green, translucent goblet. Had it not been for the rain-plant, we would have suffered very often from thirst, among those brackish lagoons, where fresh water is obtained with difficulty.
With the night, we resumed our stealthy course to the northward, guided by the familiar north star, which here, however, circles so low in the horizon, as hardly to be visible above the trees. The long and narrow lagoon contracted more and more, until it presented a single channel, perhaps a hundred yards wide, closely lined with mangroves, which, rising like a wall on both sides, prevented us from making out the character of the back country. In passing through some of the numerous bends, I nevertheless caught star-light glimpses of distant hills, and high grounds in the direction of the interior. The channel soon began to trend to the north-east, and there was a considerable current in that direction. I was concerned lest, notwithstanding all my caution, I had lost the clew to the lagoons, and taken some one of the outlets into the sea. We nevertheless kept on, steadily and rapidly, discovering no signs of habitations on the banks, until near morning, when my suspicions were confirmed by a monotonous sound, which I had no difficulty in recognizing as the beating of the sea. I was therefore greatly relieved when the narrow channel, which we were traversing, expanded suddenly into a beautiful lagoon, which I subsequently ascertained was called “Tongla Lagoon.” It is triangular in shape, extending off to the north-west.
I was weary of dodging the Sambos, and determined, as the wind was blowing fresh, to put up our sail, and standing boldly through the lagoon, take the risk of recognition and pursuit. There never was a brighter day on earth, and our little boat seemed emulous to outstrip the wind. Gathering confidence from our speed, I got out my fishing line, and, attaching a bit of cotton cloth to the hook, trailed it after the boat. It had hardly touched the water before it was caught by a kind of rock-fish, called snapper by the English residents, and cowatucker by the Mosquitos. It is only from ten to twelve inches in length, but broad and heavy. Antonio recognized it as one of the best of the small fishes, and I continued the sport of catching them, until it would have been wanton waste to have taken more. I found them to be of two varieties, the red and black, of which the latter proved to be the most delicate. I also caught two fish of a larger kind, called baracouta, each about twenty inches in length, resembling our blue-fish. It is equally ravenous, and has a like firm and palatable flesh. I am not sure that it is not the true blue-fish, although I afterward caught some in the Bay of Honduras which were between three and four feet in length.
In order to get the full benefit of the land-breeze, we kept well over to the seaward or eastern side of the lagoon. As the lagoon narrowed, our course gradually brought us close in shore. I had observed some palm-trees on the same side of the lagoon, but the ground seemed so low, and tangled with verdure, that I doubted if the trees indicated, as they usually do, a village at their feet. I nevertheless maintained a sharp look-out, and kept the boat as near to the wind as possible, so as to slip by without observation. It was not until we were abreast of the palms, that I saw signs of human habitations. But then I made out a large number of canoes drawn up in a little bay, and, through a narrow vista in the trees, saw distinctly a considerable collection of huts. There were also several of the inhabitants moving about among the canoes.
I observed also that our boat had attracted attention, and that a number of men were hurrying down to the shore. I was in hopes that they would be content with regarding us from a distance, and was not a little annoyed when I saw two large boats push from the landing. We did not stop to speculate upon their purposes, but shook out every thread of our little sail, and each taking a paddle, we fell to work with a determination of giving our pursuers as pretty a chase as ever came off on the Mosquito Shore. It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and I felt confident that we could not be overtaken, if at all, before night, and then it would be comparatively easy to elude them.
THE CHASE ON TONGLA LAGOON.