By this time Ramon had suffered violent agonies, and had become so weak that assistance was needed when he walked. The second day in Mérida we had sent for a competent physician, who assured us that nothing was the matter excepting an unimportant attack of bilious fever, and that with a day or two of treatment he should be entirely recovered. On his second visit he was much irritated, as the young man had not made the promised improvement, and assured us that there was no cause for his collapse. During our first visit to Mérida, in hunting through the city for Protestants—a practice in which he invariably indulged whenever we reached a town of consequence—Ramon had happened on an interesting little man who represents the American Bible Society in this district. By name Fernandez, this gentleman was born in Argentina, educated in Spain, and has served as colporteur in the states of Chiapas, Tabasco and Yucatan for upwards of a dozen years. He was stout, active, and vivacious; he claimed to have been in every town in Chiapas, and gave us much advice regarding our journey to that state; he called upon us several times during our stay, and shared the general disgust over our sick man, who, he assured us, had nothing serious the matter, and only needed to arouse himself to throw off the bilious attack from which he suffered. On the streets we met the baron who had been with us on our voyage from Tampico. He told us that after one day in Mérida, he and his lady decided that they preferred Progreso, and were stopping there, going down upon the day-train when they wished to visit Mérida. He also warned us that we need never expect to see the forty dollars which we had advanced through the vice-consul, as whatever disposition should be made of our complaint regarding customs charges by the government, no such money was ever known to leave his hands. Following events entirely confirmed this gentleman's dire prophecy; neither Mr. Thompson nor Señor Solis have paid the least attention to communications regarding the matter sent after our return to our own country. It is little likely that the Mexican government refused to refund the payment; but we shall probably never know.
The remarks of the baron suggested a new line of action. Why longer wait in Mérida for our boat? Progreso is cleaner, cooler, enjoys a sea breeze, and gives as good living for less than half the price we were paying. For comfort, for the benefit of our sick man, for the advantage of our pocket, we would be better off at Progreso than in Mérida. While there were cases of small-pox in the little seaport, there were none of yellow fever. In every way it looked attractive, and on Monday morning we left, and found ourselves, before noon, comfortably located in the curious little hotel, La Estrella de Oro, in Progreso. To be sure, our rooms were mere stalls, being separated from each other by board partitions scarcely eight feet in height, and without ceiling, so that it was impossible to escape the conversation in neighboring rooms at night. The table, however, was excellent, and the price, compared with what we had been paying, economy itself. Having seen my companions comfortably located, I returned to Mérida, where there was still some business demanding attention. This time I found a room in the Hotel Concordia, which was the most comfortable I enjoyed in Mérida, although the price of $4 for the mere room was high. The day before, we had seen the Battle of Flowers of the carnival. No flowers figured in it; it consisted of a long procession of carriages, mostly private and mostly good; they were filled with well-dressed young people, of whom few were masked; all were supplied with confetti, which was thrown in handfuls by those in the carriages upon those in carriages going in the other direction, for the procession was double. Usually, girls and ladies threw at men and boys, who reciprocated the compliment; the ladies had their hair loose and flowing, and wore no hats; so that in a little time it was filled with the brilliant bits of paper. Everyone, also, had long strips of colored paper, rolled up like ribbons, which were now and then launched, either with no direct aim or at some person; as these strips unrolled they trailed prettily in the air, and everyone caught at the trailing streamers. Crowds of poor children chased along, beside and behind the carriages, catching at the showers of bits of paper, and at the long streamers, which they kept, or, in turn, hurled at passers. The balconies of all the better houses were filled with people, as were the seats and raised platform fronting the town-house, and those in the balconies and on the seats rained down paper upon those in the carriages. Many children in the balconies were masked, and wore grotesque costumes, but few grown persons were so decked out. While pretty and characteristic, the Battle of Flowers disappointed us, lacking the life and "abandon" which one usually associates with the idea of carnival. It was all reserved, and respectable, and unenthusiastic. The only persons who really seemed to enjoy it were the poor children, with their loads of bright paper and long streamers. Monday afternoon, the most striking function of the carnival, so far seen, took place. This was an enormous procession of vehicles; private carriages, with elaborate equipment, were filled with finely-dressed gentlemen and ladies; common rented coaches were in line, and some of them were loaded to their full capacity with common people—four, five, or even six, in one; in one were four brawny, young cargadors; in another an old grandmother, her two daughters, and some grandchildren, pure indians, rode complacently, enjoying the admiration which they knew their best clothes must attract; in some of the fine private coaches, no one but indian nurses or favored servants rode. Even here, few of the parties were really dashing, lively or beautiful. The whole thing was constrained, artificial and sedate. An occasional group seemed to really enjoy the occasion. One bony horse dragged an ancient buggy or cart, which might well be that of some country doctor, and in it was the gentleman himself, commonly dressed, but with a whole family of little people, who were bubbling over with enjoyment. Another happy party was that of a common carter, who had his own dray in the line, with his children, neatly but commonly dressed, as its only occupants; in two or three carriages were maskers, though none of them appeared funny; one drayman's cart had been hired by a crowd of loud and boisterous youngsters, who performed all kinds of pranks and bawled nonsensical remarks to the crowd.
CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO
CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO
My chief errand was to see the leader of the xtoles, to purchase from him some of the objects which they had used in their dance. Just as I was starting, at evening, for the address he had given me, I met Señor Fernandez in the plaza, and he agreed to accompany me to the place. We went some little distance on the street-car, and, dismounting at the corner of a narrow lane, were about to start through it, when someone touched my companion on the arm, and greeted him. He recognized the owner of the little shop before which we stood. Heartily invited to enter the tienda, we did so and stated the object of our quest. The shopkeeper at once said that we must have a lantern, as the road was dark, and ordered his clerk to accompany us with one, for which we were truly thankful. We came, finally, to the house where Don Gregorio, the leader of the dancers, lived. Fernandez was friendly and voluble, greeting every company of girls and women that we met, or who were at the house, as "lindas," and passing compliments. He was, however, uneasy, continually glancing around and asking repeatedly when Don Gregorio would appear. The dancers were still absent, but expected every moment; in fact, we could hear their music in the distance. When, finally, they did appear, their leader, who was very drunk, insisted that he could not treat in the matter until after the next day, which would be the culmination of the carnival, and their chief day for dancing. The instant that we received this answer, Fernandez seized the lantern, which the clerk had left, and, grasping me by the arm, we started off at breakneck pace. As we almost rushed down the stony road, he looked furtively to right and left, and told me that there were, no doubt, persons in the neighborhood who had recognized him, and said that, more than once, in this very neighborhood, he had been stoned when selling bibles, and that any moment we ran our chances of a night attack. Apparently, however, people were too much excited over carnival to waste their time in baiting Protestants, and we heard no whizzing missiles, and soon, reaching the corner shop, left the lantern, and went home. There had been doubt as to whether trains would run the following day, Tuesday, on account of carnival. I found, however, that the train on which I had counted, leaving at seven in the morning, went as usual, though it was the only train of the day for Progreso. My companions were delighted to see me, and I found our sick man sure that death was imminent; to tell the truth, he was constantly spitting black blood, which oozed from his gums, and which gave me more concern than any of his previous symptoms. We found the carnival at Progreso more natural and unpretentious, but also far more lively and amusing, than anything in Mérida. To be sure, some of the performances bordered on the indecent, but on the whole, it was jolly, and scarcely gave cause for Manuel's pious ejaculation that there were many abusos. Groups of men and boys went through the streets decked with ribbons and flowers, and with their faces painted or daubed; many carried handfuls of flour, or of blue paint, which they dashed into the faces or over the clean clothes of those they met; bands of maskers danced through the streets; companies of almost naked boys, daubed with colors, played toro with one who was inside a frame of wood. One man, completely naked, painted grotesquely, pranced through the streets on all fours; young fellows, dressed in women's clothes, with faces masked or painted, wandered about singly, addressing persons on the street in a high falsetto voice with all sorts of woeful stories or absurd questions. Very pretty was a company of trained dancers,—with a standard, leader, music, and fancy costume,—each of whom carried two staves in his hands; these performed a variety of graceful movements, and sung a song in Spanish; this was interestingly like the song of the xtoles, and the movements were almost precisely theirs. In the evening, we attended the baile de los mestizos—dance of the mestizos, where the elite of the little city was gathered, and the place was crowded. Very little of it was enough, for while the music and dancing were all right, the heat, the tobacco-smoke, and the perfume, were overpowering.
To our joy, on Wednesday, the "Hidalgo" appeared, bound for Coatzacoalcos. All day Thursday we waited for it to unload its cargo, and on Friday morning, we loaded into a little sail-boat at the wharf, which we hired for a price far below what the regular steamer would have charged to take us to our vessel. The luggage had been weighed and valued, and an imposing bill of lading, and an official document, had been made out, to prevent our paying duty a third time when we should reach our port. At 10:30 we were on the "Hidalgo," ready for leaving. It is the crankiest steamer on the Ward Line, and dirty in the extreme. The table is incomparably bad. The one redeeming feature is that the first-class cabins are good, and on the upper deck, where they receive abundance of fresh air; there were plenty of seats for everyone to sit upon the deck, a thing which was not true of the "Benito Juarez." Of other first-class passengers, there were two harmless Yucatecan gentlemen—one of whom was seasick all the voyage,—and two Americans, brothers, one from St. Louis, Mo., and the other from Springfield, Ill. The captain of our vessel was a Norwegian, the first officer was a Mexican, the chief engineer an American, the purser a low-German, the chief steward an Oaxaca indian, and the cook a Filipino. Never was I so glad to reach a resting-place, never so relieved, as when we got our baggage and our sick man safely on board. As to the latter, he at once lay down, and, practically, was not on his feet during the voyage. We had expected to make the run in thirty hours, but were hindered by rough weather, catching portions of two northers; the second was so bad that, when almost in sight of our destination, we were forced to put to sea again, and lost many hours of time and miles of distance. On the morning of the third day, however, we had dropped anchor, and on looking from the cabins at five, caught sight of Coatzacoalcos; but it was not the Coatzacoalcos of 1896. Prodigious changes had taken place. The Pearson Company, having taken possession of the railroad, had made great improvements; their pretentious general-offices, located at the wharf, had recently been completed; the railroad station had been improved; the old shack, where we slept in 1896, had been torn down, and a construction track occupied its place; on the little rise behind, a pretty and large hotel had been erected; on the higher land, to the right, a line of well-built houses, making some pretension to architectural effect, had been constructed. It was only after landing, and walking through the older portions of the town, that any familiar scenes were recognized. Though we were ready to land at five, and wished to catch the train at seven, we were forced to wait for the official inspection, and saw the longed-for train—and there would be no other for two days—pull out before our eyes. Finally, at nine o'clock, we were permitted to land. To my surprise, my shipping document was called for, but, being produced, we were subjected to no difficulty. The balance of the day was spent in wandering about the village, meeting former acquaintances, attending to odds and ends of shipment, and strolling on the familiar beach, which was still covered with scurrying crabs and sprinkled with white "sand dollars." During the night, a terrific norther blew, and the next day, cold, dull gray, rainy, kept us in-doors. By this time, the purser of the "Hidalgo," who had himself had yellow fever, and said he was familiar with it, had convinced us that Ramon really had had a slight touch of that dread disease, but having passed his tenth day of sickness, was destined to recover, and would be no serious menace to other people.