Tracks of a Rolling Stone Part 19

A STEAMER took us down to Acapulco. It is probably a thriving port now.

When we were there, a few native huts and two or three stone buildings at the edge of the jungle const.i.tuted the 'town.' We bought some horses, and hired two men-a Mexican and a Yankee-for our ride to the city of Mexico. There was at that time nothing but a mule-track, and no public conveyance of any kind. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the scenery.

Within 160 miles, as the crow flies, one rises up to the city of Mexico some 12,000 feet, with Popocatepetl overhanging it 17,500 feet high. In this short s.p.a.ce one pa.s.ses from intense tropical heat and vegetation to pines and laurels and the proximity of perpetual snows. The path in places winds along the brink of precipitous declivities, from the top of which one sees the climatic gradations blending one into another. So narrow are some of the mountain paths that a mule laden with ore has often one panier overhanging the valley a thousand feet below it.

Constantly in the long trains of animals descending to the coast, a slip of the foot or a charge from behind, for they all come down the steep track with a jolting shuffle, sends mule and its load over the ledge. We found it very difficult in places to get out of the way in time to let the trains pa.s.s. Flocks of parrots and great macaws screeching and flying about added to the novelty of the scene.

The villages, inhabited by a cross between the original Indians and the Spaniards, are about twenty miles apart. At one of these we always stayed for the night, sleeping in gra.s.s hammocks suspended between the posts of the verandah. The only travellers we fell in with were a party of four Americans, returning to the Eastern States from California with the gold they had won there. They had come in our steamer to Acapulco, and had left it a few hours before we did. As the villages were so far apart we necessarily had to stop at night in the same one. The second time this happened they, having arrived first, had quartered themselves on the Alcalde or princ.i.p.al personage of the place. Our guide took us to the same house; and although His Wors.h.i.+p, who had a better supply of maize for the horses, and a few more chickens to sell than the other natives, was anxious to accommodate us, the four Americans, a very rough-looking lot and armed to the teeth, wouldn't hear of it, but peremptorily bade us put up elsewhere. Our own American, who was much afraid of them, obeyed their commands without more ado. It made not the slightest difference to us, for one gra.s.s hammock is as soft as another, and the Alcalde's chickens were as tough as ours.

Before the morning start, two of the diggers, rifles in hand, came over to us and plainly told us they objected to our company. Fred, with perfect good humour, a.s.sured them we had no thought of robbing them, and that as the villages were so far apart we had no choice in the matter.

However, as they wished to travel separate from us, if there should be two villages at all within suitable distances, they could stop at one and we at the other. There the matter rested. But our guide was more frightened than ever. They were four to two, he argued, for neither he nor the Mexican were armed. And there was no saying, etc., etc. . . .

In short we had better stay where we were till they got through. Fred laughed at the fellow's alarm, and told him he might stop if he liked, but we meant to go on.

As usual, when we reached the next stage, the diggers were before us; and when our men began to unsaddle at a hut about fifty yards from where they were feeding their horses, one of them, the biggest blackguard to look at of the lot, and though the fiercest probably the greatest cur, shouted at us to put the saddles on again and 'get out of that.' He had warned us in the morning that they'd had enough of us, and, with a volley of oaths, advised us to be off. Fred, who was in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, listened at first with a look of surprise at such cantankerous unreasonableness; but when the ruffian fell to swear and threaten, he burst into one of his contemptuous guffaws, turned his back and began to feed his horse with a corncob. Thus insulted, the digger ran into the hut (as I could see) to get his rifle. I s.n.a.t.c.hed up my own, which I had been using every day to practise at the large iguanas and macaws, and, well protected by my horse, called out as I covered him, 'This is a double-barrelled rifle.

If you raise yours I'll drop you where you stand.' He was forestalled and taken aback. Probably he meant nothing but bravado. Still, the situation was a critical one. Obviously I could not wait till he had shot my friend. But had it come to shooting there would have been three left, unless my second barrel had disposed of another. Fortunately the 'boss' of the digging party gauged the gravity of the crisis at a glance; and instead of backing him up as expected, swore at him for a 'derned fool,' and ordered him to have no more to do with us.

After that, as we drew near to the city, the country being more thickly populated, we no longer clashed.

This is not a guide-book, and I have nothing to tell of that readers would not find better described in their 'Murray.' We put up in an excellent hotel kept by M. Arago, the brother of the great French astronomer. The only other travellers in it besides ourselves were the famous dancer Cerito, and her husband the violin virtuoso, St. Leon.

Luckily for me our English Minister was Mr. Percy Doyle, whom I had known as _attache_ at Paris when I was at Larue, and who was a great friend of the De Cubriers. We were thus provided with many advantages for 'sight-seeing' in and about the city, and also for more distant excursions through credentials from the Mexican authorities. Under these auspices we visited the silver mines at Guadalajara, Potosi, and Guanajuata.

The life in Mexico city was delightful, after a year's tramp. The hotel, as I have said, was to us luxurious. My room under the verandah opened on to a large and beautiful garden partially enclosed on two sides. As I lay in bed of a morning reading Prescott's 'History of Mexico,' or watching the brilliant humming birds as they darted from flower to flower, and listened to the gentle plash of the fountain, my cup of enjoyment and romance was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over.

Just before I left, an old friend of mine arrived from England. This was Mr. Joseph Clissold. He was a schoolfellow of mine at Sheen. He had pulled in the Cambridge boat, and played in the Cambridge eleven. He afterwards became a magistrate either in Australia or New Zealand. He was the best type of the good-natured, level-headed, hard-hitting Englishman. Curiously enough, as it turned out, the greater part of the only conversation we had (I was leaving the day after he came) was about the brigandage on the road between Mexico and Vera Cruz. He told me the pa.s.sengers in the diligence which had brought him up had been warned at Jalapa that the road was infested by robbers; and should the coach be stopped they were on no account to offer resistance, for the robbers would certainly shoot them if they did.

Fred chose to ride down to the coast, I went by coach. This held six inside and two by the driver. Three of the inside pa.s.sengers sat with backs to the horses, the others facing them. My coach was full, and stifling hot and stuffy it was before we had done with it. Of the five others two were fat priests, and for twenty hours my place was between them. But in one way I had my revenge: I carried my loaded rifle between my knees, and a pistol in my belt. The dismay, the terror, the panic, the protestations, the entreaties and execrations of all the five, kept us at least from _ennui_ for many a weary mile. I doubt whether the two priests ever thumbed their breviaries so devoutly in their lives.

Perhaps that brought us salvation. We reached Vera Cruz without adventure, and in the autumn of '51 Fred and I landed safely at Southampton.

Two months after I got back, I read an account in the 'Times' of 'Joe'

Clissold's return trip from Mexico. The coach in which he was travelling was stopped by robbers. Friend Joseph was armed with a double-barrelled smooth-bore loaded with slugs. He considered this on the whole more suitable than a rifle. When the captain of the brigands opened the coach door and, pistol in hand, politely proffered his request, Mr. Joe was quite ready for him, and confided the contents of one barrel to the captain's bosom. Seeing the fate of their commander, and not knowing what else the dilly might contain, the rest of the band dug spurs into their horses and fled. But the st.u.r.dy oarsman and smart cricketer was too quick for one of them-the horse followed his friends, but the rider stayed with his chief.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THE following winter, my friend, George Cayley, was ordered to the south for his health. He went to Seville. I joined him there; and we took lodgings and remained till the spring. As Cayley published an amusing account of our travels, 'Las Aforjas, or the Bridle Roads of Spain,' as this is more than fifty years ago-before the days of railways and tourists-and as I kept no journal of my own, I will make free use of his.

A few words will show the terms we were on.

I had landed at Cadiz, and had gone up the Guadalquivir in a steamer, whose advent at Seville my friend was on the look-out for. He describes his impatience for her arrival. By some mistake he is misinformed as to the time; he is a quarter of an hour late.

'A remnant of pa.s.sengers yet bustled around the luggage, arguing, struggling and bargaining with a contentious company of porters. Alas!

H. was not to be seen among them. There was still a chance; he might be one of the pa.s.sengers who had got ash.o.r.e before my coming down, and I was preparing to rush back to the city to ransack the hotels. Just then an internal convulsion shook the swarm around the luggage pile; out burst a little Gallego staggering under a huge British portmanteau, and followed by its much desired, and now almost despaired of, proprietor.

'I saw him come bowling up the slope with his familiar gait, evidently unconscious of my presence, and wearing that st.u.r.dy and almost hostile demeanour with which a true Briton marches into a strange city through the army of officious importunates who never fail to welcome the true Briton's arrival. As he pa.s.sed the barrier he came close to me in the crowd, still without recognising me, for though straight before his nose I was dressed in the costume of the people. I touched his elbow and he turned upon me with a look of impatient defiance, thinking me one persecutor more.

'How quickly the expression changed, etc., etc. We rushed into each other's arms, as much as the many great coats slung over his shoulders, and the deep folds of cloak in which I was enveloped, would mutually permit. Then, saying more than a thousand things in a breath, or rather in no breath at all, we set off in great glee for my lodgings, forgetting in the excitement the poor little porter who was following at full trot, panting and puffing under the heavy portmanteau. We got home, but were no calmer. We dined, but could not eat. We talked, but the news could not be persuaded to come out quick enough.'

Who has not known what is here described? Who does not envy the freshness, the enthusiasm, of such bubbling of warm young hearts? Oh, the pity of it! if these generous emotions should prove as transient as youth itself. And then, when one of those young hearts is turned to dust, and one is left to think of it-why then, 'tis not much comfort to reflect that-nothing in the world is commoner.

We got a Spanish master and worked industriously, also picked up all the Andalusian we could, which is as much like pure Castilian as wold-Yorks.h.i.+re is to English. I also took lessons on the guitar. Thus prepared, I imitated my friend and adopted the ordinary costume of the Andalusian peasant: breeches, ornamented with rows of silvered b.u.t.tons, gaiters, a short jacket with a red flower-pot and blue lily on the back, and elbows with green and scarlet patterns, a red _faja_ or sash, and the sombrero which I believe is worn nowhere except in the bull-ring. The whole of this picturesque dress is now, I think, given up. I have spent the last two winters in the south of Spain, but have not once seen it.

It must not be supposed that we chose this 'get-up' to gratify any aesthetic taste of our own or other people's; it was long before the days of the 'Too-toos,' whom Mr. Gilbert brought to a timely end. We had settled to ride through Spain from Gibraltar to Bayonne, choosing always the bridle-roads so as to avoid anything approaching a beaten track. We were to visit the princ.i.p.al cities and keep more or less a northerly course, staying on the way at such places as Malaga, Cordova, Toledo, Madrid, Valladolid, and Burgos. The rest was to be left to chance. We were to take no map; and when in doubt as to diverging roads, the toss of a coin was to settle it. This programme was conscientiously adhered to.

The object of the dress then was obscurity. For safety (brigands abounded) and for economy, it was desirable to pa.s.s unnoticed. We never knew in what dirty _posada_ or road-side _venta_ we should spend the night. For the most part it was at the resting-place of the muleteers, which would be nothing but a roughly paved dark chamber, one end occupied by mules and the other by their drivers. We made our own omelets and salad and chocolate; with the exception of the never failing _bacallao_, or salt fish, we rarely had anything else; and rolling ourselves into our cloaks, with saddles for pillows, slept amongst the muleteers on the stone flags. We had bought a couple of ponies in the Seville market for 7_l._ and 8_l._ Our _alforjas_ or saddlebags contained all we needed.

Our portmanteaus were sent on from town to town, wherever we had arranged to stop. Rough as the life was, we saw the people of Spain as no ordinary travellers could hope to see them. The carriers, the shepherds, the publicans, the travelling merchants, the priests, the barbers, the _molineras_ of Antequera, the Maritornes', the Sancho Panzas-all just as they were seen by the immortal knight.

From the _mozos de la cuadra_ (ostlers) and _arrieros_, upwards and downwards, nowhere have I met, in the same cla.s.s, with such natural politeness. This is much changed for the worse now; but before the invasion of tourists one never pa.s.sed a man on the road who did not salute one with a 'Vaya usted con Dios.' Nor would the most indigent vagabond touch the filthy _bacallao_ which he drew from his wallet till he had courteously addressed the stranger with the formula 'Quiere usted comer?' ('Will your Lords.h.i.+p please to eat?') The contrast between the people and the n.o.bles in this respect was very marked. We saw something of the latter in the club at Seville, where one met men whose high-sounding names and t.i.tles have come down to us from the greatest epochs of Spanish history. Their ignorance was surprising. Not one of them had been farther than Madrid. Not one of them knew a word of any language but his own, nor was he acquainted with the rudiments even of his country's history. Their conversation was restricted to the bull-ring and the c.o.c.kpit, to cards and women. Their chief aim seemed to be to stagger us with the number of quarterings they bore upon their escutcheons; and they appraised others by a like estimate.

Cayley, tickled with the humour of their childish vanity, painted an elaborate coat of arms, which he stuck in the crown of his hat, and by means of which he explained to them that he too was by rights a Spanish n.o.bleman. With the utmost gravity he delivered some such medley as this: His Iberian origin dated back to the time of Hannibal, who, after his defeat of the Papal forces and capture of Rome, had, as they well knew, married Princess Peri Banou, youngest daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella.

The issue of the marriage was the famous Cardinal Chicot, from whom he-George Cayley-was of direct male descent. When Chicot was slain by Oliver Cromwell at the battle of Hastings, his descendants, foiled in their attempt to capture England with the Spanish Armada, settled in the princ.i.p.ality of Yorks.h.i.+re, adopted the n.o.ble name of Cayley, and still governed that province as members of the British Parliament.

From that day we were treated with every mark of distinction.

Here is another of my friend's pranks. I will let Cayley speak; for though I kept no journal, we had agreed to write a joint account of our trip, and our notebooks were common property.

After leaving Malaga we met some beggars on the road, to one of whom, 'an old hag with one eye and a grizzly beard,' I threw the immense sum of a couple of 2-cuarto pieces. An old man riding behind us on an a.s.s with empty panniers, seeing fortunes being scattered about the road with such reckless and unbounded profusion, came up alongside, and entered into a piteous detail of his poverty. When he wound up with plain begging, the originality and boldness of the idea of a mounted beggar struck us in so humorous a light that we could not help laughing. As we rode along talking his case over, Cayley said, 'Suppose we rob him. He has sold his market produce in Malaga, and depend upon it, has a pocketful of money.'

We waited for him to come up. When he got fairly between us, Cayley pulled out his revolver (we both carried pistols) and thus addressed him:

'Impudent old scoundrel! stand still. If thou stirr'st hand or foot, or openest thy mouth, I will slay thee like a dog. Thou greedy miscreant, who art evidently a man of property and hast an a.s.s to ride upon, art not satisfied without trying to rob the truly poor of the alms we give them.

Therefore hand over at once the two dollars for which thou hast sold thy cabbages for double what they were worth.'

The old culprit fell on his knees, and trembling violently, prayed Cayley for the love of the Virgin to spare him.

'One moment, _caballeros_,' he cried, 'I will give you all I possess.

But I am poor, very poor, and I have a sick wife at the disposition of your wors.h.i.+ps.'

'Wherefore art thou fumbling at thy foot? Thou carriest not thy wife in thy shoe?'

'I cannot untie the string-my hand trembles; will your wors.h.i.+ps permit me to take out my knife?'

He did so, and cutting the carefully knotted thong of a leather bag which had been concealed in the leg of his stocking, poured out a handful of small coin and began to weep piteously.

Said Cayley, 'Come, come, none of that, or we shall feel it our duty to shoot thy donkey that thou may'st have something to whimper for.'

The genuine tears of the poor old fellow at last touched the heart of the jester.

'We know now that thou art poor,' said he, 'for we have taken all thou hadst. And as it is the religion of the Ingleses, founded on the practice of their celebrated saint, Robino Hoodo, to levy funds from the rich for the benefit of the needy, hold out thy sombero, and we will bestow a trifle upon thee.'

So saying he poured back the plunder; to which was added, to the astonishment of the receiver, some supplementary pieces that nearly equalled the original sum.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

BEFORE setting out from Seville we had had our Foreign Office pa.s.sports duly _vised_. Our profession was given as that of travelling artists, and the _vise_ included the permission to carry arms. More than once the sight of our pistols caused us to be stopped by the _carabineros_. On one occasion these road-guards disputed the wording of the _vise_. They protested that 'armas' meant 'escopetas,' not pistols, which were forbidden. Cayley indignantly retorted, 'Nothing is forbidden to Englishmen. Besides, it is specified in our pa.s.sports that we are 'personas de toda confianza,' which checkmated them.

We both sketched, and pa.s.sed ourselves off as 'retratistas' (portrait painters), and did a small business in this way-rather in the shape of caricatures, I fear, but which gave much satisfaction. We charged one peseta (seven-pence), or two, a head, according to the means of the sitter. The fiction that we were earning our bread wholesomely tended to moderate the charge for it.