To Panama and back

by Henry T. Byford

You, of course, can have no conception of the effect of this tropical heat upon the nervous energies, for heat is a stimulant, and therefore not in your line. I formerly imagined that it was a pleasant experience to be under the influence of a stimulant, but now know that it is not. It does not make it a bit easier to do what you do not wish to do. I wonder if science is really correct in calling heat a stimulant, or if the idea is merely an opinion of scientists who, like women, are forever changing their minds, and who have but little experience or sympathy with stimulants?

By night my head is weary from thinking about how happy people are who live on land, so I promptly fall asleep and stay asleep for seven or eight hours. The three essentials to a good sleeper are present, viz., a relaxed mind, a comfortable stomach and warm feet. The combination is not to be had at home where the brain, stomach and feet can not get together.

We were all day Monday from 10:30 A. M. to 6 P. M. in getting out of the Mississippi River (120 miles or thereabouts) and had smooth sailing on Tuesday, giving every one a chance to eat three times. On Wednesday we all dieted three times, being tossed by a troublesome trade-wind which was to last a week. But it is the unexpected that is always happening. By noon we ran behind some sheltering reefs off Yucatan and were suffering only from hunger—which is more easily cured than seasickness.

The sun was shining and innumerable flying-fish were sporting about the boat. Instead of sailing through the air as I had seen them represented in books, they seemed to keep their winglike fins in a constant flutter, like the wings of hummingbirds, and shone brightly in the sunlight as they sped over the waves for forty or fifty feet. When they shot up out of the water they reached a height of two or three feet, went ahead for a short distance, and gradually sank nearer and nearer to the water until buried in a rising wave. After gaining the height acquired by the first impulse as they emerged, they did not seem able to rise any higher, but occasionally one would strike the crest of a wave at the end of its flight and give itself an upward turn, and would thus get a fresh start and take another flight, somewhat shorter than the first. The large number of them, and their liveliness and apparently intense enjoyment of the air and sun bath, produced a decidedly exhilarating effect upon us and added to the joy of not being seasick. But alas! Great happiness never lasts. The next morning, Thursday, we were in the open sea again among the swells.

And the swells still continue on the sea as well as in Port Limón, where we have been anchored since yesterday afternoon. The coast line is straight and there are no breakwaters for the protection of ships, except an island by the name of Uvita, which is situated about a quarter of a mile from the shore. Our ship, two freight steamers and a sailing vessel are anchored behind it. The island appears oval in shape and has, I should say, a surface of about six acres. There are reefs at either end upon which foamy breakers are constantly curling and which, with the dense tropical forest that covers it, constitute an animated and pleasing picture. From the ship the town also looks beautiful, nestling among the cocoa palms and other trees that line the shore, and forming a pretty fringe to the densely wooded, rising background.

The sailing vessel, which is a large schooner, came in shortly after we did, and it was an interesting experience to see her handled by three or four men. She came toward us riding at full speed before the wind with all sails set. She let down some of them as she came near us, swung slowly around our stern, let down more sail, pointed up toward the wind, then let down all sail and dropped anchor just as she got into position beside us at a conveniently safe distance. The quickness with which so few men executed these numerous details at the right moment, and the accuracy with which the ship was maneuvered, with nothing but the wind as a motor, caused me to realize that there was as much nicety in managing a ship as in removing an appendix.

If there is no bay at Limón there are at least fine piers. The ships remain at anchor until the sea is calm, then move up beside the piers and take on their loads. Coffee and bananas seem to be the principal exports, although about all kinds of tropical fruits are, or can be, raised in Costa Rica. Oranges and pineapples are plentiful, but our Northern apple, which has almost as great a variety of flavors as all of the tropical fruits put together, is an exotic and a luxury.

We saw a shark foraging about the ship this morning. Usually nothing but the back fin came in sight as he swam along the surface, although occasionally he would show his nose. The sailors are fishing for him, but so far have not had a bite, and I am deprived of an exciting description. But few in my place would allow the opportunity to pass, bite or no bite. The captain says that the popular notion that sharks turn on the back or side when they bite or take anything into the mouth is a mistaken one. He and others have seen them grab things without turning. They do not always take time to turn on the side. Like other animals they bite at things in any old way. But if a shark wishes to seize a large object that is floating on the surface, he may, if in no hurry, turn sidewise in order not to have to lift his head out of water over the object. Or if he wishes to bite a man’s leg he must turn sidewise in order not to bump his nose against the leg and thus prevent the mouth, which is quite a distance behind the nose, getting here. But that he habitually turns on his back or side, like a playful kitten, in order to eat or commit murder is one of those romantic notions that people who like to be deceived like to believe. Information that is novel or absurd attracts attention and spreads widely, and is slow to be corrected by reason and accurate observation. Natural science still has many entertaining absurdities to eliminate from its teachings.

But now that I am within sight and touch of the land of promise, the beautiful Costa Rica, I find myself in a sad plight. I can not get in. I sailed from New Orleans a week earlier than the other delegates in order to spend the holiday week at San José, the capital of Costa Rica and the Paris of Central America, and practice my Spanish and participate in the revelry. The beautiful city is located up in the highlands nearly 4,000 feet above the sea level and has a mean yearly temperature of 68 degrees F., the extremes being 50 and 80 degrees. Although it has neither a good troupe of actors nor of singers, it has the finest theater on the continent. It therefore imports an operatic company from Spain every year for the Christmas holidays, and has a season of operatic and theatrical performances, mimic bull-fights, genuine cock-fights, noisy merry-go-rounds, harmless football and all sorts of Spanish celebrations. All business is suspended and the people give themselves up to a season of carnival such as Latin nations delight in. But the wind blew, the rain came, the earth quaked and the mountains started down toward the sea, carrying away and burying miles of the only railroad track that led from the Caribbean sea to the capital. This occurred four days ago, and two feet of water is still running over the great railroad bridge, which is 620 feet long and 220 feet above the bed of the well-named Reventazon River (Big Buster River). The wind and rain did about the same thing last year and, finding that it was easy, repeated its performance this year, only in a more thorough manner.

The last train that came down from San José had to run through water that reached almost to the firebox of the engine, and stop occasionally to chop up huge tree trunks that overlay the track. A train taking up the imported actors and singers engaged for the Christmas festivities at San José has not been heard from, and as all telegraphic communication between the port and the capital is interrupted, it is not known whether the players are now acting for a living or swimming for their lives. A trainful of workmen, sent up to see what could be done to clear the track, was caught in a land slide and buried, engine, men and all.