The harbours all along this coast are open roadsteads and the lack of harbour accommodations was evident at the first stop, San Benito, the southernmost port in Mexico, and only a few miles from the Guatemala boundary. The vessel anchored almost a mile from the shore. Because of a high surf it was necessary to wait a half-day before the harbour official could come out, and nothing can be done until this formality is complied with. At last a lighter, pulled by eight brown oarsmen standing up on a running-board, flying a tattered Mexican flag at the rear and a yellow quarantine flag at the fore, approached. San Benito boasts a lighthouse consisting of a light sustained on two high poles, a signal station similar to a band-stand in appearance, and a warehouse. A donkey-engine is employed to pull the boat through the heavy surf by means of a cable. After unloading a mixed cargo and taking on three thousand bags of coffee destined for Hamburg, all of which required three days, the ship steamed to Ocos, the first port in Guatemala. The massive iron pier at this place was destroyed by the last earthquake in 1902, and it required a day to unload the cargo there and take on a few hundred bags of coffee, and then we started for Champerico.
LANDING AT CHAMPERICO.
Guatemala is a corruption of an Indian word meaning “a land covered with trees.” And so it seemed, for the whole shore was a dense, impenetrable forest of tropical growth, whose topmost points are the plumes of waving palms, clear to the background of mountains, from which arise many volcanic peaks, making a beautiful and impressive sight. We were aroused in the morning by the snorting and puffing of a little tug which now enlivens the harbor of Champerico and jerks the lighters around with a great show of hustle. Because of the shallow water, it is necessary to anchor out some distance from the shore, and the cargo, as well as passengers, is carried back and forth in these boats. After such a wait as the dignity of the occasion demands, the commandante came out rich in gold embroidered blue coat and yellow-striped red trousers. The captain escorted him into the cabin where a few samples of bottled goods were inspected. A couple of hours later the commandante came out smiling, even if a little less steady on his feet, and we were permitted to land. Landing at this port is, in itself, quite an undertaking, for the passenger is seated in a chair which is whisked over the side of the boat by a steam crane and dropped into a waiting lighter, together with a medley of boxes, barrels, trunks, personal luggage, and various other kinds of impedimenta. The lighter was quickly drawn to the great, lofty pier by the spiteful little tug with which it was connected by a long hawser. When near the pier the hawser was dropped, but the distance was well calculated and the lighter calmly floated to the proper place, and we were lifted up to the pier in another chair by a similar operation. The process is probably less dangerous than it looks, but the passenger breathes freer when the operation is over with and he is safely landed in this land of political disturbances and make-believe money. It cost me seven dollars to land, but when they exchanged six dollars for one Mexican peso, it was not so expensive, for the Mexican eagle on a silver dollar was only worth half as much as the proud bird of Uncle Samuel in the same place.
The piers at Guatemala ports are all the property of private companies operating under concessions, that simply receive passengers at a fixed charge and freight at a given rate for each hundred pounds and transport it to the custom-house, which is invariably at the end of the pier, so that there is no chance for escape from the customs officers. Baggage exceeding one hundred pounds becomes quite a burden as the charges are excessive for the service rendered. The Aduana, or custom-house, is no unimportant factor in the scheme of government here as there is very little that escapes duty, although it is hinted that some of the duties collected never reach the government coffers. Then, in addition to an import customs, there is even an export duty on coffee which gives the little, uniformed officials more to do.
My experience with these officials gave the first insight into the suspicion with which a stranger is regarded in that country during troublous times, and nearly all times are more or less unsettled under the present government. The two officials carefully scrutinized every article. A number of letters that I had received in Mexico attracted their attention, both officials carefully scrutinizing each one until they reached a letter of introduction to “His most Excellent and Illustrious Señor Don ——,” a member of the President’s Cabinet, when they carefully placed everything back and politely told me that there was no duty to be paid. The name of one so close to the President seemed to remove all suspicion of smuggling at least. I was obliged to give them my name and destination, as I had already done at the pier, and was met by an officer at the door who conducted me to the commandante’s office, where my whole pedigree was asked; and again at the station the same interrogatories had to be answered. All of these experiences were amusing rather than otherwise, for no discourtesy was shown and all the soldiers were polite. They simply served to break the monotony of tedious travel.
“Is there a revolution in Guatemala now?”
This was about the first question I asked after sitting down to breakfast in the dining-room of a small boarding-house run by a German woman. The question was prompted by definite reports which had reached us at San Benito, Mexico, that ex-President Barillas was at Tapachula with about twenty-five followers “armed to the teeth.” At any time, however, it would be the proper question to ask at breakfast, or not later than dinner, for revolutions are the only things that occur in a hurry down there.
Absolute silence followed the question for some time. Finally, a native Guatemaltecan (thus it is they write it and not Guatemalan) answered with “No, there is no revolution.”
After this man had gone out, an American who had been sitting at the table took up the question and said that there was considerable talk of a revolution because of dissatisfaction, and the government was very much alarmed. He added, “We have to be very careful what we say, as spies are everywhere, and the man who first answered you is one of them.”