When they saw the smoke, the old women grew silent and expectant; but, by-and-by, when it subsided, they became suddenly gay, and “went in strong” for the festivities, which, up to this time, I must confess, I had thought rather slow. But here I may explain, that although the bridegroom has no choice in the selection of his wife, yet if he have reason for doing so, he may, while the copal is burning, take her in his arms, and cast her outside of the circle, in the open day, before the entire people, and thus rid himself of her forever. But in this case, the matter is carefully investigated by the old men, and woe betide the wretch who, by this public act, has impeached a girl wrongfully! Woe equally betide the girl who is proved to have been “put away” for good reasons. If, however, the copal burns out quietly, the groom is supposed to be satisfied, and the marriage is complete.
The copal, in this instance, burned out in the most satisfactory manner, and then the drums and flutes struck up a most energetic air, the music of which consisted of about eight notes, repeated with different degrees of rapidity, by way of giving variety to the melody. The men all kept their places, while I was installed in a seat of honor beside the old men. The women, who, as I have said, could not come within the circle, now commenced filling the calabashes from the canoe, and passing them to the squatting men, commencing with the ancients and the “distinguished guests”—for Antonio and my Poyer were included in our party. There was nothing said, but the women displayed the greatest activity in filling the emptied calabashes. I soon discovered that every body was deliberately and in cold blood getting up of what Captain Drummer called the “big drunk!” That was part of the performance of the day, and the Indians went at it in the most orderly and expeditious manner. They wasted no time in coyish preliminaries—a practice which might be followed in more civilized countries, to the great economy, not only of time, but of the vinous. It was not from the love of the drink that the Towkas imbibed, I can well believe, for their chicha was bad to look at, and worse to taste.
With the fourth round of the calabashes, an occasional shout betrayed the effects of the chicha upon some of the weaker heads. These shouts became more and more frequent, and were sometimes uttered with a savage emphasis, which was rather startling. The musicians, too, became more energetic, and as the sun declined, the excitement rose, until, unable to keep quiet any longer, all hands got up, and joined in a slow, swinging step around the circle, beating with their knuckles on the empty calabashes, and joining at intervals in a kind of refrain, at the end of which every man struck the bottom of his calabash against that of his neighbor. Then, as they came round by the canoe, each one dipped his calabash full of the contents. The liquid thus taken up was drunk at a single draught, and then the dance went on, growing more rapid with every dip of the calabash. It got to the stage of a trot, and then a fast pace, and finally into something little short of a gallop, but still in perfect time. The rattling of the calabashes had now grown so rapid, as almost to be continuous, and the motion so involved and quick, that, as I watched it, I felt that kind of giddiness which one often experiences in watching the gliding of a swift current of water. This movement could not be kept up long, even with the aid of chicha, and whenever a dancer became exhausted, he would wheel out of line, and throw himself flat on his face on the ground. Finally, every one gave in, except two young fellows, who seemed determined to do, in their way, what other fast young men, in other countries, sometimes undertake to accomplish, viz.: drink each other down, or “under the table.” They danced and drunk, and were applauded by the women, but were so closely matched that it was impossible to tell which had the best chance of keeping it up longest. In fact, each seemed to despair of the other, and, as if by a common impulse, both threw aside their calabashes, and resolved the contest from a trial of endurance into one of strength, leaping at each other’s throats, and fastening their teeth like tigers in each other’s flesh.
There was instantly a great uproar, and those of the men who had the ability to stand, clustered around the combatants in a confused mass, shouting at the stretch of their lungs, and evidently, as I thought, regarding it as a “free fight.” But there was little damage done, for the old men, though emphatically “tight,” had discretion enough to send the women for thongs, with which the pugnacious youths were incontinently bound hand and foot, and dragged close to the hut in the centre, and there left to cool themselves off as they were best able, no one taking the slightest notice of them. “Verily,” I ejaculated to myself, “wisdom knoweth no country.”
THE END OF IT!
The dance which I have described was resumed from time to time, until it became quite dark, when the women brought a large number of pine splinters, of which the men each took one. These were lighted, and then the dancers paced up to the little hut, and each tore off one of the branches of which it was built, finally disclosing the newly-married couple sitting demurely side by side. As soon as the hut was demolished, the groom quietly took his bride on his back—literally “shouldering the responsibility!”—and marched off to the hut which had previously been built for his accommodation, escorted by the procession of men with torches. This was the final ceremony of the night, although some of the more dissipated youths returned to the canoe, and kept up a drumming, and piping, and dancing, until morning. Next day every body brought presents of some kind to the newly-married pair, so as to give them a fair start in the world, and enable them to commence life on equal terms with the best in the village.
It would be difficult to find on earth any thing more beautiful than the savannah which spread out, almost as far as the eye could reach, behind the Towkas village. Along the river’s bank rose a tangled wall of verdure; giant ceibas, feathery palms, and the snake-like trunks of the mata-palo, all bound together, and draped over with cable-like lianes, (the tie-tie of the English,) and the tenacious tendrils of myriads of creeping and flowering plants. Unlike the wearying, monotonous prairies of the West, the savannah was relieved by clumps of acacias—among them the delicate-leaved gum-arabic—palmettos, and dark groups of pines, arranged with such harmonious disorder, and admirable picturesque effect, that I could scarcely believe the hand of art had not lent its aid to heighten the efforts of nature in her happiest mood.
Finding retreats in the dense coverts of the jungles on the river’s bank, or among the clustering groups of bushes and trees, the antelope and deer, the Indian rabbit and gibeonite, wandered securely over the savannah, nipping the young grass, or chasing each other in mimic alarm. Here, too, might be observed the crested curassow, with his stately step, the plumptitudinous qualm, and the crazy chachalca, (coquericot,) besides innumerable quails—all fitting food for omnivorous man, but so seldom disturbed as not to recognize him as their most dangerous enemy. Then night and morning the air was filled with deafening parrots, noisy macaws, and quick-darting, chattering paroquets.
I rose early every day, and with my gun in my hand, strayed far over the savannah, inhaling the freshness of the morning air, and shooting such game as looked fat, tender, and otherwise acceptable to my now fastidious appetite. The curassow, (called cossu by the Mosquitos,) is one of the finest birds in the world. It is about the size of the turkey, but has stronger and longer legs. The plumage is dark brown or black, ash-colored about the neck, and of a reddish brown on the breast. On its head it has a crest of white feathers tipped with black, which it raises and depresses at pleasure. The flesh is whiter than that of a turkey, but rather dry, requiring a different mode of cooking than is practiced in the woods, to bring out its qualities in perfection. It is easily tamed, as are also the qualm and chachalaca. The latter, when old, is tough, but when young, its flesh cannot be surpassed for delicacy and flavor.