“Harry wended his way to his hammock, made a cigar, thought over the events of the day, and wondered whether the church was now bound to find him fish and the et ceteras; but, before any conclusion could be come at in his mind, he fell asleep. Awaking in the morning, he was accosted at his door by several neighbors, who asked him to accept the presents they had brought, which he did of course, without knowing that it is always the custom to send something to every villager whenever he happens to have a christening, a marriage, or a death in his family. This being a very great occasion, every body had been liberal and generous withal, and in a short space he found himself supplied with provisions for a long time, more fish than he could eat in months, turtles, chickens, pigs, eggs, piles of fruit of all kinds, yams, wild animals, in fact every thing that was edible. Sending a large part of his presents as an offering to the church, Harry returned to his hammock and cigar, while his hostess commenced cooking with an agreeable alacrity.
“Late in the afternoon he started for the padre’s house, but had hardly emerged from his hut when he was somewhat surprised to find himself joined by the musicians of the village, the clarionet taking precedence, and the drum filing in, both playing the usual no-tune to the best of their ability. And thus it happened for weeks afterward, for thus did the padre seek to do honor to the new disciple of the faith.
“It was on one of these formal promenades,” continued H., “that we made our appearance at Pantasma, to Harry’s exceeding astonishment, and great joy. We ridiculed him for his emphatic dismissal of his musical friends, but he was too much delighted to be captious, and sent straightway for the padre, who brought with him a bamboo-joint, wherewith we made merry, even to the going down of the sun. We all went to sleep while the worthy priest was reading to us the certificate of Harry’s baptism, which he had carefully engrossed on five closely-written pages.”
And what, I inquired, became of the convert?
“Oh! he returned with us; and that old Port which you tasted at the Cape is one of the many evidences which I have received of his grateful recollection, since he has returned to London to the inheritance of his fathers.”
Chapter XIV.
For three days after our parting with H., we kept on our course up the Great Cape river. The current increased as we advanced, and large rocks of quartz and granite began to appear in the channel. The valley of the river also contracted to such a degree as to deserve no better name than that of a gorge. Sometimes we found ourselves, for miles together, shut in between high mountains, whose rugged and verdureless tops rose to mid-heaven, interposing impassable barriers to the vapor-charged clouds which the north-east trade-winds pile up against their eastern declivities, where they are precipitated in almost unceasing rains. Night and storm overtook us in one of these gigantic mountain clefts. The thunder rolled along the granite peaks, and the lightning burned adown their riven sides, and were flashed back by the dark waters of the angry river. The dweller in northern latitudes can poorly comprehend any description which may be given of a tropical storm. To say that the thunder is incessant, does not adequately convey to the mind the terror of these prolonged peals which seem to originate in the horizon, roll upward to the zenith, louder and louder, until, silent for a moment, they burst upon the earth in blinding flame, and a concentrated crash, which makes the very mountains reel to their foundations. Not from one direction alone, but from every quarter of the compass, the elements seem to gather to the fierce encounter, and the thunder booms, and the lightning blazes from a hundred rifts in the inky sky. So intense and searing is the electric flame, that for hours after heavy storms I have had spasmodic attacks of blindness, accompanied with intense pain of the eyeballs. I found that my Indian companions were equally affected, and that to avoid evil consequences they always bound their handkerchiefs, dipped in water, over their eyes, while the storm continued. The Indians, I may here mention, have many prejudices on the subject of electricity, as well as in regard to the effect of the rays of the moon. They will not sleep with their faces exposed to its light, nor catch fish on the nights when it is above the horizon. My companions, at such times, always selected the densest shade for our encampment. They affirmed that the effect of exposure would be the distortion of the features, and the immediate mortification of such wounds and bruises as might be reached by the moonlight. I afterward found that the mahogany-cutters on the north coast never felled their trees at certain periods of the moon, for the reason, as they asserted, that the timber was then not only more liable to check or split, but also more exposed to rot. They have the same notion with the Indians as to the effect of the moonlight on men and animals, and support it by the fact that animals, left to themselves, always seek shelter from the moon, when selecting their nightly resting-places.
We had now ascended the river, five full days from the Cape, having, according to my computation, advanced one hundred and twenty miles. The Poyer was perfectly acquainted with the stream, which he had several times descended with the people of his village, in their semi-annual visits to the coast. In these visits, he told me, they took down liquid amber, a few deer-skins, a little anotto, and sarsaparilla, bringing back iron barbs for their arrows, knives, machetes, and a few articles of ornament.