[CHAPTER XXIII.]
The little town and harbour of Acapulco resemble a wash bowl with a cup full of water in the bottom. On rounding the promontory that protected the entrance to the basin, we found ourselves in the arena of a vast amphitheatre formed by a range of lofty hills that shut us out on every side from the world we had left. At the foot of these hills, opposite the entrance, was a narrow strip of level ground affording room for a miniature city. Here are the coal depots of the Pacific Company, and here, on the arrival of every steamer, a brisk trade is carried on in eggs and poultry, bananas, oranges, and limes. I have already referred to the feats of gastronomy performed at our first landing. Though it was yet early in the morning, our first impulse, after a warm greeting between us and our mother earth, was to seek a convenient house of entertainment, where for the moderate charge of fifty cents we might eat an unlimited quantity of eggs and chicken.
As the American House seemed already full, we bent our steps towards the United States, where we were fortunate enough to secure a seat at the first table. For a few minutes nothing was heard but the cracking of eggshells, the mumbling of chicken bones, the sipping of coffee, interrupted by various inexpressible ejaculations of delight; but as one dish was emptied after another there arose a strange Babel of full-grown English and baby Spanish.
"Here muchacho!—muchacho! eggs—wavers—mas wavers—mas chickeen—cafe—mas milk—darn your eyes, don't you know your own language, see here;" and thus, words failing, they had recourse to signs. But after we had eaten a couple of chickens and nearly a dozen eggs apiece, with a corresponding supply of bread and coffee, neither words nor signs were any longer intelligible, and all our eloquence produced no other reply than the simple monosyllables, "no mas," or the more mysterious "poco tiempo." "Poker temper," cried a hungry voyager, "I've had poker temper long enough, I tell you, now I want some chicken." "Poco tiempo," returned the imperturbable host, and finishing our dinner with a hearty laugh, we sallied forth into the street.
Acapulco, in spite of its picturesque location, presents little that is attractive. The houses, though built of stone, appear mean and dilapidated, half way between a stable and a jail. To my eye, at least, the tangled, unbroken foliage of the tropics is slovenly and monotonous compared with the shaven fields and trim forests of New England. I missed that pleasant green that carpets all but our most barren hills. Nothing else, not even the architectural beauty of the cocoa palm with the tinkling music that the softest breeze steals from its ivory leaves, can compensate for the nakedness of the soil. It reminds one of an Indian chief, terrible in his war paint and graceful with his nodding plumes, but otherwise as naked as the day he was born.
But my curiosity was abundantly gratified in studying the manners and habits of the people. They are so backward in all the arts of civilization that one cannot escape the impression that they are a degenerate race. It seems impossible that they should have built the houses they now occupy, and indeed, in all the towns through which we passed inhabited by a race of Spanish origin, I do not remember to have seen a single building in progress of erection or which did not seem to have been standing at least half a century. Every day a market was held in the open air on one side of the plaza, where, besides the articles already mentioned, there were exposed for sale fresh beef cut up into long strips, or rather rags, several kinds of vegetables, cheese, and tortillas.
Most of the trafficking was here done by women—they sat squat on the ground with thin rude baskets beside them—they used cakes of soap for the smaller currency, and fragments of stones for weights, breaking them in pieces till they balanced the article they were selling, and then, by some process of arithmetic I could not comprehend, arriving at the correct amount.
Near the sea-shore there was a fruit market held under the shade of some lofty trees. Here women and boys seated behind rude tables kept up an incessant cry to attract the attention of some loitering Californian, "Comprar oránges? comprar lemona? picayune a glass."
"Me no comprar—me no quiere," returns the other, taking it for granted, with delightful absurdity, that Mexicans as well as babies can understand bad English more readily than good, "me no comprar mas; me havvy all me wishy, here," stroking his stomach with most expressive complacency.
While we thus sauntered through the streets engaged in the innocent and laudable occupation of sucking oranges and eating what seemed to be withered slices of brown bread, but was really cocoanut and sugar, another part of our fellow-passengers were much more gravely employed. A meeting was held on the plaza, sundry speeches were made full of the most scorching sarcasm, and resolutions passed denouncing the conduct of the Company in the strongest terms. A collection was taken up for the purpose of instituting legal proceedings against the Carolina, and having her condemned as unseaworthy. Dark hints were given of burning her before she could leave the port. We were to get home from Acapulco the best way we could, and afterwards hold the Company responsible for all loss incurred by our detention.