The mountains, in the background tower up, one above another, until the last loses itself in the blue of heaven. These seemed undergoing a constant change; now a cloud throws a deep cavern-like shade here, and now the sun chases it away, and shows us a vale watered by a mountain stream and teeming with the choicest plants of nature; now we see in the distant blue what appears a gigantic marble column; we look through a glass and it proves a cascade breaking from the crest of a mountain; now we see a mountain rearing its head into the very clouds, and shrouded in eternal snow, this reflecting the rays of the sun, appears the dome of some vast structure. Although volcanos are grand and impressive by day, nothing
will compare with their sublimity at night; their crests are surrounded by a halo of light, the smoke, illumined, crawls sluggishly out, and now are seen issuing balls and streams of liquid fire, accompanied by a most terrific shock, as if the furies were at war within; now a dark cloud floats sluggishly along, but now it is looking directly into the crater, and is burnished by the internal fires.
Chapter Twenty-fourth.
ACAPULCO—THE TREE OF LOVE—BATHING AND FEMALES—A CALIFORNIAN IN A TIGHT PLACE—EARTHQUAKES—SAIL FOR REALEJO—VOLCANO VIEJO—ITS DEVASTATING ERUPTION—REALEJO AND HARBOR—A CART AND ITS PASSENGERS—A WALL-STREET FINANCIER FLEECED—CHINANDEGA—ITS BEAUTIFUL ARBORS—BATHING—PREPARING TORTILLOS—LEON—ITS MAGNIFICENCE AND DESOLATION—DON PEDRO VACA AND FAMILY.
As we approach Acapulco, the most striking feature is the telegraph, which is erected on one of the highest peaks of the mountain, and from which, at the approach of a steamer, a blue flag is displayed, or a white one at the approach of a sailing vessel. The town is completely land-locked, there being not the slightest indication of it until passing around the bluff into the inner bay, when the castle is seen directly in our course, and passing on, bearing to the left, the town is seen stretching away up the side of the mountain. The bay has the appearance of a lake being entirely shut in by mountains. Our steamer passed on to within fifteen or twenty rods of the town when we dropped anchor and were immediately boarded by the officer of the port, also by innumerable men and boys for passengers, and females with fruit. Passengers are taken into bungoes, or canoes, which are headed in until the bow strikes the shore, when they take their stand preparatory to a jump as the sea runs back. (See Plate.) Not unfrequently they are overtaken by the next sea, which is extremely embarrassing, particularly if one has just changed his linen. We entered the town at the foot of the main street; two churches are seen, each supporting a tower, the custom-house being in the foreground at the left. The buildings are of one story, constructed of stone or adobes, and covered with tile. This is one of the most beautifully located towns on the Pacific coast. It is never visited by
blighting winds but is shut in by mountains, watered by mountain rivulets, and supplied with all the tropical fruits, which grow here spontaneously, and in the greatest abundance. It reminds one of the “happy valley” of “Rasselas.” Along the margin of the bay are trees of peculiar shape called the “amata,” or tree of love, the form of the top resembling an umbrella, under which hammocks are slung—and people enjoy their siestas. (See Plate). The castle is a work of some strength mounting several brass pieces of heavy calibre; it is however much neglected, being garrisoned only by a few barefooted soldiers. Just back of the town is a stream of the purest water from springs on the mountain side; this is the bathing place of the inhabitants, and a more inviting one could not be imagined; the stream is so limpid, and of such a congenial temperature, that one feels that he could repose in its bosom forever. In taking a bath it was difficult to rid ourself of the presence of a half dozen señoritas who would come to the bank, towel in hand, offering to prepare you for your clothes, for the moderate sum of sixpence. They were all beautiful, but I preferred seeing them under other circumstances. This want of modesty, as it will be termed, is a characteristic of Spanish America, and although it may show a want of refined delicacy according to the frigid laws of the States, they are entirely unconscious of impropriety.