I awoke near noon, but unrefreshed, with a dull pain in my head, a sensation of chilliness, great lassitude, and an entire absence of appetite. Had our encampment been more favorable, I should not have attempted to move; but the island was small, without water, and, moreover, too near the channel leading to Tongla Lagoon to be a desirable resting-place. So we embarked about midday, and stood across the lagoon for its western shore, where the ground appeared to rise rapidly, and high blue mountains appeared in the distance. The sun shone out clearly, and the day was sultry, but my chilliness increased momentarily, and, in less than an hour after leaving the island, I found myself lying in the bottom of the canoe, wrapped in my blanket, and for the first time in my life, suffering from the ague. The attack lasted for full two hours, and was followed by a bursting pain in my head, and a high fever. I had also dull pains in my back and limbs, which were more difficult to be borne than others more acute.
At four o’clock in the afternoon, Antonio put the boat in shore—for I was too ill to give directions—where a bluff point ran out into the lagoon, forming a small bay, with a smooth, sandy beach. A little savannah, similar to that which I have described at Tapir Camp, extended back from the bluff, near the centre of which, at its highest point, which commanded a beautiful view of the lagoon, rose a single clump of pines. Here my companions carried me in my hammock, and here they hastily arranged our camp.
When the sun went down, my fever subsided, but was followed by a profuse and most debilitating sweat. Meantime Antonio had collected a few nuts of a kind which, I afterward ascertained, is called by the English of the West Indies physic-nut (jatropha), which grows on a low bush, on all parts of the coast. These he rapidly prepared, and administered them to me. They operated powerfully, both as an emetic and cathartic. When their effects had ceased, I fell asleep, and slept until morning, when I awoke weak, but free from pain, or any other symptom of illness. I congratulated myself and Antonio, but he dampened my spirits sensibly by explaining that, however well I might feel for that day, I would be pretty sure to have a recurrence of fever on the next. And to mitigate the severity of this, if not entirely to prevent it, he presented to me a calabash of reddish-looking liquid, which he called cinchona, and told me to drink deeply. Heavens! I shall never forget the bitter draught, which he commended to my unwilling lips every two hours during that black day in my calendar! I know what it is now, for my Mosquito experiences have entailed upon me a sneaking fever and ague, which avails itself of every pretext to remind me that we are inseparable. Looking to my extensive consumption of quinine, I have marveled, since my return, that the price of the drug has not been doubled! Others may look at the stock quotations, but my principal interest in the commercial department of the morning paper, is the “ruling rate” of quinine! Not having, as yet, discovered any considerable advance, I begin to doubt the dogma of the economists, that “the price is regulated by the demand.”
Antonio was right. The next day came, and at precisely twelve o’clock came also the chill, the fever, the dull pains, and the perspiration, but all in a more subdued form. I escaped the physic-nuts, but the third day brought a new supply of the bitter liquid, which Antonio told me was decocted from bark taken from the roots of a species of mangrove-tree. I have never seen it mentioned that the cinchona is found in Central America, but, nevertheless, it is there, or something so nearly like it, in taste and effects, as to be undistinguishable. Thin slips of the bark, put into a bottle of rum, made a sort of cordial or bitters, of which I took about a wine-glassful every morning and evening, during the remainder of my stay on the coast, with beneficial results.
I had three recurrences of the fever, but the sun passed the meridian on the sixth day without bringing with it an attack—thanks to the rude but effective “healing art” of my Indian companions. Experience had taught them about all, I think, that has ever been learned in the way of treatment of indigenous complaints. It is only exotic diseases, or sweeping epidemics, that carry death and desolation among the aborigines, whose ignorance of their nature and remedies invests them with a terror which enhances the mortality. Not only was the treatment to which I was subjected thoroughly correct, but the dieting was perfect. The only food that was given to me consisted of the seeds of the okra (which is indigenous on the coast), flavored by being boiled with the legs and wings of quails, and small bits of dried manitee flesh. I only outraged the notions of my rude physicians in one respect, viz., in insisting on being allowed to wash myself. The Indians seem to think that the effect of water on the body, or any part of it, during the period of a fever, is little less than mortal—a singular notion, which may have some foundation in experience, if not in reason. The Spaniards, wisely or foolishly, entertain the same prejudice; and, furthermore, shut themselves up closely in dark rooms, when attacked by fever. At such times they scarcely commend themselves pleasantly to any of the senses.
From the open, airy elevation where our camp was established, as I have already said, we had an extensive and beautiful view of the lagoon. We saw canoes, at various times, skirting the western shore, and, from the smoke which rose at intervals, we were satisfied that there were there several Indian villages. As soon, therefore, as I thought myself recovered from my fever, which was precisely at one o’clock past meridian, on the sixth day (the fever due at noon not having “come to time”), I was ready to proceed to the Indian towns. But our departure was delayed for two days more by an unfortunate occurrence, which came near depriving the Poyer boy of his life, and me of a valuable assistant; for, while Antonio was supreme on land, the Poyer boy was the leader on the water. I always called him—Mosquito fashion—“admiral.”
It seems that, while engaged in gathering dry wood, he took hold of a fallen branch, under which was coiled a venomous snake, known as the tamagasa (called by the English tommy-goff, and the Mosquitos piuta-sura, or the poison snake). He had scarcely put down his hand when it struck him in the arm. He killed it, grasped it by the tail, and hurried to our camp. I was much alarmed, for his agitation was extreme, and his face and whole body of an ashy color. Antonio was not at hand, and I was at an utter loss what to do, beyond tying a ligature tightly around the arm. The Poyer, however, retained his presence of mind, and, unrolling a mysterious little bundle, which contained his scanty wardrobe, took out a nut of about the size and much the appearance of a horse-chestnut, which he hastily crushed, and, mixing it with water, drank it down. By this time Antonio had returned, and, learning the state of the case, seized his machete, and hastened away to the low grounds on the edge of the savannah, whence he came back, in the course of half an hour, with a quantity of some kind of root, of which I have forgotten the Indian name. It had a strong smell of musk, impossible to distinguish from that of the genuine civet. This he crushed, and formed into a kind of poultice, bound it on the wounded arm, and gave the boy to drink a strong infusion of the same. This done, he led him down to the beach, dug a hole in the moist sand, in which he buried his arm to the shoulder, pressing the sand closely around it. I thought this an emphatic kind of treatment, which might be good for Indians, but which would be pretty sure to kill white men. The boy remained with his arm buried during the entire night, but, next morning, barring being a little pale and weak from the effects of these powerful remedies, he was as well as ever, and resumed his usual occupations. A light blue scratch alone indicated the place where he had been bitten.
The tamagasa (a specimen of which I subsequently obtained, and which now occupies a distinguished place among the reptiles in the Philadelphia Academy), is about two feet long. It is of the thickness of a man’s thumb, with a large, flat head, and a lump in the neck something like that of the cobra, and is marked with alternate black and dusky white rings. It is reputed one of the most venomous serpents under the tropics, ranking next to the beautiful, but deadly corral.