CAMPECHE AND TENOSIQUÉ.

From Progreso to Campeche—Incidents on Board—Carmen—Old Acquaintances—Indian Guns—Frontera—The Grijalva—Tabasco Pottery—Waiting—Carnival at Frontera—Julian’s Success—Departure—Jonuta—Monte-Cristo—Difficulties at the Custom House—Cabecera—TenosiquÉ—Reminiscences—Monteros—The Lacandones—Our Mules Come—The Usumacinta—Sea Fish—Setting out for the Ruins—Route—Forest Camping—Second Day—Traces of Monuments—A Mule and a Horse Lost—Cortez—Arroyo Yalchilan—Provisions left Behind—Crossing the Cordillera—An Old Montero—Traces of Lacandones—Yalchilan Pass.

Here we take our passage for Campeche on the Asturia, a diminutive, small steamer, having but four Liliputian berths; luckily enough we are the only passengers; had it been otherwise, we must have kept on deck day and night. The sea is like an immense sheet of glass, the heavens radiant with stars; our boat draws very little water, so that we skirt close to the shore, and are able to follow the graceful panorama which unfolds before us; and in the morning early we cast anchor four miles off Campeche because of the high surf, but the outline of which is plainly visible.

Campeche was built on the site of an Indian city, and visited by Antonio Cordova in his first ill-fated expedition (1517). Pg 415
Pg 416
Pg 417“The natives,” says Diaz, “were friendly, and took us to extensive buildings which had in them idols and sanctuaries. These edifices were built of lime and sand. On the walls were enormous serpents, and near them paintings representing their idols, round a kind of altar stained with drops of blood still quite fresh. On one side of the idols were painted human figures massed in the shape of a cross. We were amazed at the sight of things so strange, as we watched numbers of natives, men and women, come in to get a sight of us with smiling, unconcerned countenances.”154 But the scene soon changes; osier braziers, for burning copal, are brought, and the priests tell the Spaniards to leave the shore immediately under penalty of death. The Spaniards sailed away, and did not settle at Campeche until 1541.

These ancient mounds, these temples, with their ceremonial and gory priests, carry us back to Mexico; but it would be vain to look for traces of such buildings along the coast, or in the proximity of Spanish settlements. In process of time Campeche became the most nourishing city of the peninsula, and was plundered several times by French and English privateers. To stop these frequent devastations, a strong wall was built around to enable its inhabitants to rest in peace. But the wall, built for safety, seems now to oppress the town, which has outgrown it, and is spreading outside, where wealthy merchants have “quintas,” in whose gardens the rich tropical flora displays its magnificence, casting a multicoloured belt about the town.

Campeche, with its tortuous suburbs, its drawbridges, its unsymmetrical high buildings, is the least Eastern-looking place in Mexico, and boasts no monuments worthy of mention. Our steamer stopped some hours here, giving me the opportunity to pay a long-promised visit to Don F. Ferrer, a charming correspondent, under whose hospitable roof I spent one of the pleasantest days I can remember, amidst music and pleasant talk. We returned to our steamer en route for Carmen in the afternoon, and I looked forward to having the whole boat to myself, when a large canoe full of people rowed up alongside just as we were settling down comfortably. “Oh dear!” I thought, “three days’ voyage with a surplus of eighteen people, not counting half-a-dozen curs and parrots! If the norte gets up, what is to become of us?” They were strolling actors who had long secured all the available accommodation, so that we were given the choice of the deck, and it was with difficulty that I obtained for Lucian, who was prostrated with a severe attack of fever, a wee corner below. Presently his moans attracted the attention of the women. “What is the matter with the gentleman, is it yellow fever?” they inquired. “I shouldn’t wonder,” was my reply; whereupon the whole band made off and left us in undisturbed possession of our berths, where we slept the sleep of the just, and arrived at Carmen as fresh as larks. This place is the great depÔt for woods known as Campeche, and drives a brisk trade.

I found my old friend Don Benito, who owns an island called Chinal on the Usumacinta, having mounds, tombs, or maybe basements of temples. Some excavations were made in them, when terra-cotta guns, 4 feet 11 inches long, with bullets likewise of terra-cotta, were brought to light. I was presented with some bullets, which are now in the TrocadÉro. The only plausible explanation I can give for the presence of these guns in an Indian mound, is that after the great battle of Centla in Tabasco, in which Cortez’ artillery wrought so much destruction, the natives tried to copy this new war-engine, but being unacquainted either with iron or the effect of powder, they reproduced them in the material most familiar to them, fondly imagining that the result would be the same, and buried them later with their chief.

The journey from Carmen to Frontera takes twelve hours, where we land the very day twelve months after our first visit, and put up again at the detestable fonda. We learn that smallpox and yellow-fever have decimated and are decimating the town, but nothing daunted, for these epidemics seem to spare foreigners, I fill up the time I must wait here until a steamer calls, by collecting ancient pottery. Indian idols are of frequent occurrence in Central America, but up to the present time no one has cared to collect them, and the Mexican Museum does not possess a single specimen. Among those I picked up are various figures resembling more or less those of the table-land, while their differences of style connect them with the idols at Palenque. Our drawing shows the two best preserved, and although very rude in make, they are not devoid of interest. The figure to the left is a Quetzalcoatl, easily recognised from the serpent surrounding his head, and is the facsimile of a stone idol at Capan; while the larger to the right may have been meant for a priest or a “tecuhtli” knight.

We are in full carnival, the entire population parading the streets in ludicrous travesties, making merry with music, jokes, and quips. The SeÑoritas come to our fonda to get subscribers for the dance; we give our names and follow the stream. The ball is kept up with much vigour, and Julian is soon in great requisition by all the pretty SeÑoritas, to the annoyance and mortification of Lucian, who ends, however, by declaring that he can well forgive his success, for he is an obliging fellow and such a hand at polishing his boots. These words are drowned in the tumult and cries of the dancers pressing round a man who has just been shot by his less favoured rival. The would-be murderer is taken to the police station, while his victim is conveyed home by his friends and the ball goes on more briskly than ever.

At last a steamer bound for the Usumacinta is in sight. We get on board with alacrity, and are soon at Jonuta; but here the captain, on seeing the low ebb of the river, declares that his ship cannot go any further. After much parley he is persuaded to go on, but we are startled by a tremendous bump in the middle of the night, and find that we are stranded. We wait for the day, when, with a great deal of difficulty, we succeed in getting her off, and push on to Monte-Cristo, where the captain nolens volens lands us, protesting that his ship cannot go another yard. But our troubles do not end here. We are requested to show our passes, and as Monte-Cristo is not mentioned, we are in danger of having the whole of our property confiscated. Fortunately I had a letter from the Home Minister, recommending me to all the authorities of the Republic. I took it to the Mayor, who gave me full leave to continue my journey unmolested.

And now we turn our thoughts how to get to TenosiquÉ; we find that it takes four or five days by water, and some twenty-four hours by land. We procure a canoa, in which we deposit our baggage, under the management of our faithful Julian, who will follow as quickly as possible, while Lucian and I, with a guide, take the road through the woods. We are soon left behind, and do not see our guide again until six hours later, when we find him reposing by the side of a running stream.

“Where is our lunch?” I roared out.

“What lunch?”

“Why, the parcel we put up before we started.”

“Oh! I didn’t know what it was, and I left it behind.”

Expostulations were more than vain, and we had to satisfy the cravings of hunger with a draught of rum and water!

We press on as best we may, and some hours later we reach a rancho where fresh eggs, poultry, and a beverage made of Indian corn, somewhat restore our jaded frames. Here we cross the river on to the right side, and arrive at Cabecera early in the evening, and put up at two old dames’, who regale us with chicken broth and fried fish, which, seasoned by hunger, we find delicious. The next day early we are at TenosiquÉ, three miles distant, where we take up our quarters in a vacant hut, but, do what we will in the way of scraping and sweeping, we cannot get rid of mosquitoes, garrapatas, and other insects, which eat us alive. As to the food, an old man does his best, and I still remember that to give us some salad he had recourse to turnip-leaves; these naturally enough were hard to the bite, and hardly improved with bitter orange juice by way of vinegar. But the dearth of any green food made us gulp it down with a will to like it, and we almost succeeded.

This poor hamlet dates back to 1535, when a Spaniard, Don Gil by name, settled here. It seems to have kept its native character to the present day; for Don Saturnino tells me, that thirty years ago it had still a cacique, “tropiles” (subs), and a picotÉ. Of late it has acquired some importance, from its being the great entrepÔt of ebony wood, sought for in the remotest parts of the State.

We hear the most conflicting reports with regard to the ruins I wish to explore, lying some fifty miles distant on the other side of the Sierra, on the left bank of the Usumacinta. They were visited twelve years ago by the mayor of this place, “when they were still held in high esteem by the Lacandones. A guard was placed over the temples and on stated days religious ceremonies were performed, but since the fall of a favourite idol, whose head lies now among the rubbish, the building has been abandoned.” Cheered by this piece of good news, I direct all my energies to procure men, mules, and horses; the former we obtain with the promise of double pay, as for the latter we have to wait for their return from Peten. But when they arrive at last and I see their wretched condition, and the ghastly wounds which cover them, I feel great misgivings as to their performing the arduous journey which is in store for them. Their owner assures me that with a week’s rest the animals will be all right. I must needs accept his word for it, hoping the best, for there is nothing else to be done.

To reach the ruins, a space of some five leagues of forest will have to be cleared on the right side of the river, which will take us opposite the ruins, but a canoe must likewise be made to ferry us across. For this purpose I despatch some men in advance, while we fill up the weary time of waiting by trying to catch some fish. Curiously enough, a number of sea-fish is found here in the Usumacinta, 100 miles from its mouth; and when swollen by rain it brings from distant Guatemala large quantities of lobsters, together with pumice stones.

We set out on the 15th of March, 1882, and are soon in a tangle of wood and beset with obstacles of every kind; while the mules get unloaded, go astray, tarry in green pastures, and are altogether very troublesome.

We have left behind us the low marshy level, and are nearing the Cordillera, bearing to the south-east on the Peten road. The forest seems absolutely interminable with magnificent cedar and palm-trees, over 100 feet high, the trunks of which almost disappear under flowering lianas, while the broad-leaved Palmyra palms commingle with Brazil wood, and form boundless domes of verdure. It would be pleasant enough could one get used to being eaten up by mosquitoes and garrapatas. The stations where we encamp, although not possessed even of a hut, are carefully marked in the maps for the benefit of muleteers; they are always on rising ground, in the vicinity of water and ramon for the animals, their staple food on the march. Our day’s journey has told already on them; the men disperse to cut down ramon. Julian is putting up our camp-beds, while cook is busy with our supper, which usually consists of a kind of Scotch broth, made of dried meat, rice, and black beans, a round of biscuit, and a cup of coffee, except on days when our larder has been replenished on the way by a wild duck, a peccari, and sometimes a monkey!

In the evening the men, grouped round the fire, indulge in a social weed, while recounting adventures more or less authentic, then we all retire behind our mosquito curtains and rest our weary limbs on soft green leaves. Our slumbers are often interrupted by the roar of the wild beast, the plaintive cries of nocturnal birds, and howling monkeys. We rise before daybreak, and what with breakfast, saddling and loading our animals, the sun is high on the horizon before we can continue our journey. No incident breaks the wearisome monotony of our progress, but towards noon I notice to our right traces of buildings, vast esplanades, the stone edges of which are still intact, whilst the guide says that towards the valley of S. Pedro, to our left, are entire monuments still standing—the town of Izancanac, perhaps. Indeed, the whole country is covered with ruins, to study which a lifetime were not too long.

The region is full of the memory of the conqueror. He must have travelled this very road on his march to Honduras. It was in these woods that, under pretext of a conspiracy, he caused Guatemozin to be executed. The young Aztec prince displayed the intrepid spirit of his better days; he reproached Cortez for his want of faith, protesting the while his innocence. A tardy monument has just been raised to the upholder of Indian independence in that Tenochtitlan which he defended as long as there was stone upon stone, whilst not even a bust marks the presence of his murderer.

The region we now traverse, covered with immense forests, was cultivated and inhabited before the Conquest; great cities rose in this trackless labyrinth, the vestiges of which have been noticed by us, whilst frequent mention of them is found in various authors. On this route Cortez saw “a great city,” with strong buildings of stone on the summits of mounds, just as at the present day. This city, known as “Bitza,” had been abandoned on the approach of the Spaniards, but provisions of all kinds were left. When its inhabitants returned, Cortez asked why they had fled.

“Because we were afraid.”

“What is the meaning of all these provisions? Why are all the crops gathered in?”

“Because if the Lacandones, with whom we are at feud, had come and conquered us, we would have done away with everything to starve them out. But on the contrary had we prevailed, we would have given hot pursuit and lived at their expense.”155

Next Cortez passed a town, the environs of which were peopled with deer so tame, that the Spaniards could catch them by riding after them.156 The country must, therefore, have been open to allow of the Spanish cavaliers giving chase.

Cogolludo calls the region between Yucatan, Chiapas, and Guatemala, Prospero, and says: “The natives of Prospero have their ears and nostrils bored; they wear in the latter a vanilla pod or a carved piece of wood; their hair, of which they are vain, is worn long and adorned with feathers; they also practise tattooing. They told father Simon that the country round was more densely populated than Yucatan, that they went by the name of Locenes, which means apart, and spoke the Maya language; that the other tribes were the Mopanes, Lacandones, Ahabes, Cihaches, Chinamitas, etc.; that the town of Locen numbered eight hundred houses; that the inhabitants were known for their clear complexion, their good looks; that they wore gold collars round their necks; and, finally, that many ancient buildings with stone idols in them, were found in the Sierra.”157

Meanwhile our journey becomes more and more harassing; we have been obliged to leave one of the horses and a mule to the jaguars, and not to overload the others, Lucian and I ride in turn the only remaining horse. We cross the Arroyo Yalchilan158 on the Guatemala border, not far from Locen, and leaving the Peten road, we steer to the south-east-south, on the path cleared by our men, and encamp on the bank of the running stream in which we lave our dust-travelled limbs.

The next day we climb the range of hills which divide us from the upper Usumacinta, and which are almost impassable for loaded animals. The sharp stones destroy the leather of our boots, and cut the mules’ feet to pieces, while we are in danger of being lost down the ravines and precipices. The better to ease the mules’ backs, we leave here such provisions as we shall not require, for game will not be wanting on our way, and everything will be safe until we return. A scaffolding supported on poles fixed to the ground is made, on which wine, biscuit, salt meat, and beans are deposited.

Here we encamp for the night—the sixth since we left TenosiquÉ—and the next day we begin the ascent of Mirador and Aguila; the latter, although not more than 1,300 to 1,400 feet in height, is exceedingly steep and arduous. We meet an old montero, Don P. Mora, who left his native village three months since, and is living in the Sierra with two Indians, whose business is to mark mahogany trees ready for the market.

Don PÉpÉ has built himself a hut on the Chotal river; he shoots whatever comes within the range of his muzzle, for the support of himself and his companions. The poor old fellow is reduced to a deplorable state by marsh fever; he volunteers some valuable hints, which I repay with a glass of wine and a few cigars.

THE USUMACINTA AT PASO YALCHILAN.