Read Ebook: Six Days on the Hurricane Deck of a Mule An account of a journey made on mule back in Honduras C.A. in August 1891 by Cole Almira Stillwell

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Ebook has 111 lines and 9945 words, and 3 pages

While I was making my nocturnal preparations, complete enough to insure comfort, I remember lazily musing upon the horrified, scandalized countenances some good friends would present, could they know how easily I was discarding all previous teachings and traditions, and, without a struggle, embracing new creeds and customs. I recall that I realized it was my duty, as a properly reared product of civilization, to go out and sit on a fence, if need be, to maintain my maidenly isolation and dignity, but I was too tired.

It is not the first case on record when a willing spirit has been worsted by weak flesh in a moral combat.

I slept as long, blissfully, and dreamlessly, as if I had not the heinous crime of having defied Mrs. Grundy upon my conscience, and awoke on the morning of the fourth day feeling decidedly refreshed.

After each female member of the household had minutely examined my dress, hat, gloves, and veil, and remarked thereon; after Vincent had written down my name and had taught them to pronounce it, and had, in answer to their unresented inquiries, given them choice bits of my history; after they had, it seemed to me, exhausted all their resources to detain us further, some one of them suddenly bethought herself of one of the fixtures of the machine, whose use they could not determine.

I think I sank in their estimation somewhat, because I could not enlighten them. I suggested hemmer, tucker, quilter, braider, ruffler, and every known attachment I could think of, but each was produced with a flourish that negatived every proposition.

About half past seven we did get off, and could all the good wishes that were given us in parting come true, we would be more than mortally favored.

We had no rough roads to go over that day. Across grassy plains where hundreds of cattle were grazing; through shady lanes that seemed like the picturesque bridle paths of carefully cultivated parks, we rode for four hours, and then reaching a decently clean house we stopped, the "inner man" having clamored for refreshment for some time.

We found a young girl here, taking care of two children for their absent father and mother, and not a thing did she feel like shouldering the responsibility of giving us but one wretched ear of roast corn. In vain we begged and offered enormous sums for just one of the many fowls running about,--she was not to be moved. In despair we disposed ourselves under a huge tree by the roadside to await the arrival of Eduardo.

I believe it was some two hours afterward that he came, just as we were going to cast lots as to who should devour the other. Right glad were we to substitute the appetizing lunch soon spread for us in true picnic style, and full justice did we show it.

It was not long before we were again on our way, feeling much better satisfied with ourselves and the world in general. What a cure for the "blues" a good square meal is!

About half after five I saw before us a church and a few small houses, and though I heard no crowing of cocks, a barking of dogs intimated that we had reached a village, none other than the namesake of Rome's favorite apostle.

At the farther end of the settlement we found our accommodations.

Outwardly considered these houses are much alike, and though the inside furniture is almost as similar in kind and disposition, the interiors do vary greatly after all.

Across a vilely dirty room was stretched a cord upon which were hung to dry, huge and manifold strips of salt meat. To my uneducated olfactories it seemed past the turning point and far on the road to utter ruin--the smell was so suffocating and sickening.

One bed Eduardo had succeeded in making very comfortable for me, while on the other, in its birthday suit, lay an interesting but constantly wailing infant which was soon afterwards joined by its mother. A hammock for Vincent was here too, and shortly we were settled for the night in our several places.

I had expressed a preference to stay outside in my hammock, but the plan not proving a feasible one, I drenched a handkerchief with some perfumery, tied it under my nose, and tried to find relief in slumber sweet.

I was awakened by a queer sort of noise that made me feel creepy and afraid to breathe. I cannot describe it, for I do not know anything it was like. The darkness was so thick that I could cut it, I am sure, and the only certainty I felt at having found myself where I last remember having been, was the ever strengthening odor of that meat.

When I could bear the suspense no longer, in a frenzy of fear I broke the spell of silence and fairly shrieked to Vincent. I made known my woes; he lighted a match, and there, just above my head, upon two pegs driven into the wall for that express use, sat two parrots dressing their feathers and making themselves both comfortable for the night and beautiful for the morrow. They looked as if they felt injured, and I know I did, at being thus disturbed.

The rest of the night passed somehow--the baby squalled, the parrots verbally expostulated, a hen in one corner of the room let her presence be known, a horrid cat under one of the beds joined in the performance, and the fleas grew more than lively, but the most potent factor was that too long-dead one which appealed to another sense than that of hearing.

How thankful I was when the dawn broke and I felt at liberty to release myself from the imprisonment I had for hours endured and go out into the fresh air. It was really cold I found, but soon after the sun climbed up over the mountain before us, we became aware that his genial rays were shedding comfortable warmth as well as benignant light upon all around.

The road was a good one from a Honduranian standpoint, and the only novel feature of the landscape was the appearance of the rocks. The cliffs were black, and looked as if for centuries water had lashed in restless and often unsubdued fury around their bases, giving them that peculiar formation so well known to geologists.

All the plains were thickly strewn with black bowlders of sizes ranging from immensity to those applicable to building and paving purposes. Nowhere have I ever seen more convincing traces of the drift period.

As we were going over an open space where the sun shone more warmly than elsewhere, a great yellow and black snake lazily dragged itself across the road directly in front of me.

I was sorry to see it, not only because I have an innate loathing of anything that crawls in this smooth, sinuous, treacherous manner, but because I had wanted to make the journey without encountering a single experience of the kind.

According to our friend's representations, mostly derived from her imagination, aided by a school geography, the ground was fairly honeycombed with entrances to the abodes of these reptiles, and I fully expected to find them festooning trees, bushes, and fences, lying in wait within every tuft of grass, and in fact making my life one hideous, waking nightmare.

However, this was the first and, as was afterwards proved, the last creature of the kind I was called upon to view, either during my trip or my subsequent residence in the country up to the present time. Lizards I saw in plenty, but their shy, quick way of darting out of sight reminded me more of the bashful little squirrels at home than anything else. I really liked them, in their place of course.

It still lacked an hour of noon when we came to a running brook, upon whose bank grew a tree casting such an inviting shade that we could not resist its fascinations but dismounted, tied our mules, and began to wish and watch for the appearance of Eduardo.

Presently Vincent like

"Zaccheus, he Did climb a tree."

the sooner to perceive the coming of the expected lunch, and I indulged in a nap. The approach of a horseman aroused me, and false hopes together, and also brought my companion to the ground.

The rider, a young, good-looking man, whose toilet was the nearest approach to a civilized one I had recently come across, despite his bare feet, to which were strapped spurs, drew up in the middle of the brook, and after the customary friendly greeting, proceeded to inspect us in a most leisurely way.

Time, a good deal of time, passed before our servant came, but there he sat. The lunch was spread and partaken of long and heartily, and still he calmly surveyed us, not at all in an impertinent way, but just as if he were honestly interested. We offered him some jelly, which he ate in a totally unabashed manner, but withdrew not his gaze. We ignored him, but he took not the hint. Stay there he did until we were remounted, and then for miles and miles he rode along with us.

We were rather amused than otherwise at his course, though perhaps we experienced a scarcely recognized feeling of relief when we came to a place where our roads lay in different directions. He shook hands with us in the same friendly, impressive, almost warm manner, and then galloped merrily off as if he had fulfilled an arduous duty and now felt as if he had a right to enjoy himself.

Great pointed peaks kiss the sky on every side, and seem to shut out all the noise and strife of the world beyond, and like sentinels, grim and gaunt, guard intact the peace and prosperity of the vast plains within that natural wall.

Two farms occupy nearly all of the valley, and so extensive are they, that the farm-houses are four miles apart. The owner of both proved to be none other than the father of my companion, and though there was still one more day's journey before us, we already felt quite at home.

We rode through fields where the grass waved high above our heads, over pasture plains where hundreds of cattle, mules, and horses roamed at will, and then, when the sun was sinking low, we came to the farmhouse, and here we dismounted to make our last night's stop.

The building is a remarkable one, having been a monastery years and years ago, when the Jesuit missionaries were devoting their energies and lives to the conversion of the untamed Indians.

It is one hundred and fifty feet long, probably one third as deep, and has walls a yard thick. All this is divided into five rooms--three large ones running the whole depth of the house and communicating with each other, and two smaller ones, one behind the other, and only had access to from the outside.

The floors are of stone, and it pleased me to fancy that many of the worn places had been formed by constant contact with the bended knees of the holy and indefatigable priests. The projecting roof of tiles forms a sort of porch, we would call it, all around the building, and is paved, as is also the yard for many feet. Beyond this the land gently slopes to a river, and still farther on a mountain rises up to limit the landscape and prevent our greedy eyes from drinking of beauty to a more than endurable state of intoxication.

It was blissful to lie in a hammock and watch the setting sun give here and there a lingering farewell touch as if loath to go and leave behind so much that was beloved, and then at the close of the short tropical twilight to see fair Luna crown, first with a halo of approaching glory and then with her own sweet self, the dark peak whose outlines rose sharp and clear against the star-pierced blue of the evening sky.

It was blissful, I say, to revel in this grand pastoral poem in the full consciousness that the transition to prose would be one of terror; to know that in one of the big, cool, clean rooms a comfortable bed was prepared for me, where I would lose myself in restful unconsciousness, guarded by the saint whose figure could be clearly defined in an old oil-painting on the wall, and which, with two others of a like kind, were relics, doubtless, of a chapel's previous decoration.

'Twas even so, and when I awoke in the morning to find a huge vessel of water from the river standing by a shallow tub hewn from the trunk of a tree, while near at hand were placed all the articles necessary for body and soul-satisfying ablutions, my perfect content knew not how to manifest itself.

Too soon, it seemed, we were forced to leave there, for we had a long, weary day of mountain climbing ahead of us.

"A bad road," Vincent said, and when he warned me thus I knew I could expect the worst.

Every muscle in my body had been so frequently called into requisition that to use any one almost drew forth an involuntary scream. In various places the skin had been worn away by constant friction of the clothing or saddle, leaving highly sensitive sores, even my gauntlets reducing my wrists to such a state.

Words cannot express what I suffered. The torture had been of a less acute kind while we were riding over comparatively level roads, but here we were going "up hill and down dale" again, and how I was to bear it I could not see.

I tried to be brave, and I think rarely, if ever, a complaint passed my lips, but during that last day I more than once nearly committed suicide through sheer physical exhaustion.

My stock of reserved strength proved to be far greater than I had ever reason to believe it, and demand for more endurance was always met.

When my mule had some particularly difficult obstacle to surmount, she had a way of approaching it quietly and then suddenly giving a hump that filled her spine with complex curves and a burden, unless care were exercised, with compound fractures. In order to insure one's safety it is absolutely necessary to preserve an exact equilibrium directly over the said spine in a line running from the point midway between her ears to her tail. This is at times so gigantic a task that it is no wonder a temporary oblivion to bodily sensation is induced.

Poor mule! In moments when I could summon up any spare sympathy, I lavished it upon her. She seemed to be tired too.

Finally, when going down steep ravines, she ceased to lower herself and me gently from one foothold to the next, but acquired a habit of thumping down in a reckless way, giving a sort of grunt, which sometimes, for the life of me, I could not help accompanying with a groan that seemed to come from my very shoes. I had no fear of falling. In fact, I think I should have hailed it as a delightful change could we have rolled down a cliff and finished even life's journey with this one.

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