Altogether, the Mosquitos have little in their character to commend. Their besetting vice is drunkenness, which has obliterated all of their better traits. Without religion, with no idea of government, they are capricious, indolent, improvident, treacherous, and given to thieving. All attempts to advance their condition have been melancholy failures, and it is probable they would have disappeared from the earth without remark, had it not suited the purposes of the English government to put them forward as a mask to that encroaching policy which is its always disclaimed, but inseparable and notorious characteristic.
There is a suburb of the village at the Cape, near the river, which is called Pullen-town. Here I was witness of a curious ceremony, a Seekroe or Festival of the Dead. This festival occurs on the first anniversary of the death of any important member of a family, and is only participated in by the relatives and friends of the deceased. The prime element, as in every feast, is the chicha, of which all hands drink profusely. Both males and females were dressed in a species of cloak, of ule bark, fantastically painted with black and white, while their faces were correspondingly streaked with red and yellow (anotto). The music was made by two big droning pipes, played to a low, monotonous vocal accompaniment. The dance consisted in slowly stalking in a circle, for a certain length of time, when the immediate relatives of the dead threw themselves flat on their faces on the ground, calling loudly on the departed, and tearing up the earth with their hands. Then, rising, they resumed their march, only to repeat their prostrations and cries. I could obtain no satisfactory explanation of the practice. “So did our ancestors,” was the only reason assigned for its continuance.
We had been at the Cape about a week, when Mr. H. received information that the news of our affair at Quamwatla had reached Sandy Bay, and that the vindictive trader had dispatched a fast-sailing dory by sea to Bluefields, to obtain orders for our “arrest and punishment.” This news was brought in the night, by the same Indian whom I had protected from the trader’s brutality, and who took this means of evincing his gratitude. I had already frankly explained to Mr. H. the circumstances of our fight, which, he conceded, fully justified all we had done. Still, as the trader might make it a pretext for much annoyance, he approved the plan which I had already formed, for other reasons, to explore the Wanks River, and accompany my Poyer boy to the fastnesses of his tribe, in the untracked wilderness lying between that river and the Bay of Honduras. By taking this course, I would be able again to reach the sea beyond the Sambo jurisdiction, in the district occupied by the Caribs, not far from the old Spanish port of Truxillo. Furthermore, the tame scenery of the lagoons had become unattractive, and I longed for mountains and the noise of rushing waters. The famous Sukia woman also lived on one of the lower branches of the river, and in accordance with this plan we could visit her without going greatly out of our way.
In fulfillment of his promise, Mr. H. prepared to accompany us as far as the retreat of the mysterious seeress, and two days afterward, following the lead of his pitpan, we embarked. The harbor connects with the river by a creek at its northern extremity, which is deep enough to admit the passage of canoes. Emerging from this, we came into the great Wanks River, a broad and noble stream, with a very slight current at its low stages, but pouring forth a heavy flood of waters during the rainy season. It has ample capacity for navigation for nearly a hundred miles of its length, but a bad and variable bar at its mouth presents an insurmountable barrier to the entrance of vessels. Very little is known of this river, except that it rises within thirty or forty miles of the Pacific, and that, for the upper half of its course, it flows among high mountains, and is obstructed by falls and shallows.
We made rapid progress during the day, the river more resembling an estuary than a running stream. The banks, for a hundred yards or more back from the water, were thickly lined with bush; but beyond this belt of jungle there was an uninterrupted succession of sandy savannahs. There were no signs of inhabitants, except a few huts, at long intervals, at places where the soil happened to be rich enough to admit of cultivation. We nevertheless met a few Indians coming down with canoes, to be sold at the Cape, who regarded us curiously, and in silence.
Near evening, we encamped at a point where a ridge of the savannah, penetrating the bush, came down boldly to the river, forming an eddy, or cove, which seemed specially intended for a halting-place. Mr. H. had named the bluff “Iguana Point,” from the great number of iguanas found there. They abound on the higher parts of the entire coast, but I had seen none so large as those found at this place. It is difficult to imagine uglier reptiles—great, overgrown, corrugated lizards as they are, with their bloated throats, and snaky eyes! They seemed to think us insolent intruders, and waddled off with apparent sullen reluctance, when we approached. But the law of compensations holds good in respect to the iguanas, as in regard to every thing else. If they are the ugliest reptiles in the world, they are, at the same time, among the best to eat. So our men slaughtered three or four of the largest, selecting those which appeared to be fullest of eggs. Up to this time I had not been able to overcome my repugnance sufficiently to taste them; but now, encouraged by H., I made the attempt. The first few mouthfuls went much against the grain; but I found the flesh really so delicate, that before the meal was finished, I succeeded in forgetting my prejudices. The eggs are especially delicious, surpassing even those of the turtle. It may be said, to the credit of the ugly iguana, that in respect of his own food, he is as delicate as the humming-bird, or the squirrel, living chiefly upon flowers and blossoms of trees. He is frequently to be seen on the branches of large trees, overhanging the water, whence he looks down with curious gravity upon the passing voyager. His principal enemies are serpents, who, however, frequently get worsted in their attacks, for the iguana has sharp teeth, and powerful jaws. Of the smaller varieties, there are some of the liveliest green. Hundreds of these may be seen on the snags and fallen trunks that line the shores of the rivers. They will watch the canoe as it approaches, then suddenly dart off to the shore, literally walking the water, so rapidly that they almost appear like a green arrow skipping past. They are called, in the language of the natives, by the generic name, kakamuk.
In strolling a little distance from our camp, before supper, I saw a waddling animal, which I at first took for an iguana. A moment after, I perceived my mistake. It appeared to be doing its best to run away, but so clumsily that, instead of shooting it, I hurried forward, and headed off its course. In attempting to pass me, it came so near that I stopped it with my foot. In an instant it literally rolled itself up in a ball, looking for all the world like a large sea-shell, or rather like one of those curious, cheese-like, coralline productions, known among sailors as sea-eggs. I then saw it was an armadillo, that little mailed adventurer of the forest, who, like the opossum, shams death when “cornered,” or driven in “a tight place.” I rolled him over, and grasping him by his stumpy tail, carried him into camp. He proved to be of the variety known as the “three-banded armadillo,” cream-colored, and covered with hexagonal scales. I afterward saw several other larger varieties, with eight and nine bands. The flesh of the armadillo is white, juicy, and tender, and is esteemed one of the greatest of luxuries.
Chapter XIII.
