Chapter XV: Voyage From California Via Nicaragua
About six hundred homeward-bound passengers, myself included, left San Francisco on the 16th of March, in the splendid steamship Cortes, under command of Captain Cropper. It being our intention to reach the Caribbean sea by the Nicaragua route, we bent our course towards San Juan del Sur. Wind and wave both favored our movements, and we made rapid progress. Stray thoughts occupied my mind as my eyes rested for the last time upon the barren hills of California. There I had witnessed many strange sights and incidents. Should I ever see them again? Was it probable that I would stop to renew my acquaintance with them while on my way to Japan and China in 1875, by the great Atlantic and Pacific railway? My mind, however, was occupied but a little while in the consideration of these matters. There was before me a country which engendered a brighter train of thoughts than that which I was leaving behind. I began to think of greeting the good old folks at home; of joining long-parted hands, and of roaming over the glades and glens which first supported my tottering steps.
Our gallant ship continued to glide bravely on towards the place of her destination. Neither accident nor rough weather happened to us, and we should have enjoyed ourselves finely if there had not been so many persons on board. The crowd was too large for a pleasure party at sea. There were too many months to feed, too many berths to adjust, and too many complaints to be heard. Somebody was always in the way of somebody else. We were too much pent up. There was an abundance of room all around us, above and below us; but it was not adapted to our purposes. The Cortez was our only foothold; and it was necessary that we should cling to her as the only means of reaching terra firma.
But I imagine those of us who had state-rooms on the cabin-deck would not have felt any disposition to murmur, if we had known how much better we fared than the other passengers. Only about one hundred and fifty enjoyed this advantage; all the others were huddled together in the steerage. Is it reasonable to suppose that any considerable number of these four hundred and fifty persons would have engaged such uncomfortable and unwholesome passage, if they could have done better? No. They could scarcely have been hired to pass through the torrid zone in the steerage, if they had possessed money enough to pay for a cabin-passage. It is a well-known fact that the steamers bring a much larger number of steerage passengers from California than they take there. The majority of those that go to California take passage in the cabin; but more than two-thirds of those who return occupy the steerage. As a matter of course, there was no communication between the cabin and steerage passengers; at least those in the steerage were not allowed to come abaft the ship; but I do not think our privileges were circumscribed in this respect, for I went forward of the bulkhead several times, as did many others who belonged in the cabin, and the officers said nothing to us.
There was quite a medley of characters in the cabin. Bishop Soule, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, may be placed at the head. He is a stout, fine-looking old gentleman, about seventy years of age; and I sincerely believe he was the best man aboard the vessel. He had been stirring up the sinners in California for some time, and was now returning to his home in Georgia. Next came the Rev. Dr. Boring and three or four other clergymen, one of whom had formerly been a missionary in Brazil. The Secretary of Utah Territory, a downright jolly fellow, dressed in a suit of buckskin, and who, while on the Isthmus, manifested a most ardent passion for parrots, was also on board. Besides these, there were eight colonels, seven majors, five captains, three professors, six doctors, ten quacks, five lawyers, eight pettifoggers, a score of blacklegs, six or eight ladies, a dozen other adult females, and fifteen or twenty children. We also had the company of a Polish patriot, who was on his way to the East to join the Turkish army.
On the seventh or eighth day after our departure from San Francisco, one of the passengers, while taking spy-glass observations, espied a motionless object at a great distance on the water--the sea at the time being perfectly calm and smooth. The spy-glass passed rapidly from hand to hand, and was kept almost constantly leveled towards the object; but nobody could determine what it was. One man thought it a ship in distress; another inclined to the opinion that it was abandoned altogether; while a third sighingly expressed his conviction that it was the decaying remnant of a melancholy wreck. The captain, more dispassionate, experienced, and capable of forming a correct judgment, now surveyed it carefully; but it was so far off upon the larboard quarter, that he acknowledged himself unable to give any reliable information concerning it. What then was to be done? Should we stifle our curiosity and continue on our course, or should we change and go to the mysterious object? Some favored one proposition, and some the other. Considerable betting had been going on as to the number of days we would be occupied in making the passage, and one half of those who had thus wagered their money were opposed to losing the time which it would require to make the examination. But the motion to go being seconded and sanctioned by a large majority of the passengers, the captain immediately turned the prow of the steamer.
After sailing awhile on this new track, we discovered a large flock of longipennate birds flying around the wreck to which we were then bound. This was an ominous sign. What were these sea buzzards doing about a disabled vessel, if they were not feeding on the dead bodies of seamen? But the rapid movement of the Cortez assured us that our curiosity should soon be allayed. With the aid of the spy-glass we could now view the object distinctly; and on approaching still nearer, we found it was nothing but an old empty scow! and that it was frequented by the fowls of the sea merely because it afforded them a place to rest and to roost. What a sore disappointment it was, not to find the carcasses of a hundred starved sailors! A day or two after this, one of the steerage passengers died, an old sail was wrapped around him, two pieces of pig-iron were fastened to his feet, and he was cast overboard.
Early in the morning of the thirteenth day of our pilgrimage upon the water, we arrived at San Juan del Sur, a miserable, good-for-nothing little town, situated on the western coast of Nicaragua, near the eleventh parallel of north latitude. The harbor was as mean and ugly as the town, being very small, shallow and inconvenient. There were no piers nor wharves, and we had to cast anchor about one hundred and fifty yards from the shore. Large yawls were then prepared for us, and we were conveyed as near terra firma as the depth of the harbor would allow. But when the yawls struck bottom, I think we were still from twenty-five to thirty yards from the water’s edge; and there were no means or facilities of reaching the shore, except by wading, or by straddling the shoulders of the half-breed, quarter-dressed natives, scores of whom, in the hope of making a few shillings, were standing waist-deep in the water all around us, and begging us to take seats on their backs, a request with which, after some deliberation, we complied.
During this novel process of debarkation, I witnessed some most ludicrous scenes. The Nicaraguans, generally speaking, are much more feeble, dwarfed, and effeminate than the people of the United States. On an average, I should think that one able-bodied Kentuckian would be equal to four or five of these hybrid denizens of the torrid zone. It will not, therefore, surprise the reader when I tell him that the small man, while carrying the large one through the water, being top-heavy, would sometimes drop his burden! Nor was this all; the ladies were yet behind, and they had to be brought ashore in the same manner!
Among our passengers were two or three oleaginous men, of Falstaff proportions; one of whom engaged a couple of the stoutest carriers around the yawl to convey him to the shore. Fixing himself upon their shoulders as well as he could, he signified to them that he was ready, and they made for land; but before they had proceeded half a dozen steps, he weighed them down, and all three fell flat on their backs in the water! This little mishap created a great deal of merriment; and several others who had just mounted and started, unable to restrain their laughter, leaned back too far to give it vent, and down they tumbled into the water likewise! It was necessary for the rider, or topmost man, to keep himself in a quiet, perpendicular position; for if he leaned backward, or forward, or sideway, he was sure to throw the carrier off his equilibrium, in which case both of them would fall down together.
The ladies had now arrived from the Cortez, and were ready to disembark. There was but one way for them to get ashore, and that has already been explained. They, too, were compelled to straddle the shoulders of the natives; and when fairly mounted, give the signal of command, and ride ahead boldly, like equestrian amazons in a circus. It may here be remarked that these men were nearly naked, there being no apparel upon them except a kind of bandage or wrapper around their loins. The manner of mounting the carrier, whose head was almost on a level with the rim of the yawl, was to place the right limb over his right shoulder, and the left over his left; and when thus conveyed to the shore, it was a very easy matter to part the limbs from his shoulders, and slide down his back. These, then, were the means and facilities which were afforded for the disembarkation of the ladies; and I have thus dwelt upon the subject for the purpose of informing my fair readers, if I have any, what they may expect upon their arrival at San Juan del Sur.
All the passengers and baggage were now landed, and after a deal of vexation in securing checks and transit tickets, we set forward across the country in the direction of Virgin Bay, a shabby village, situated about fifteen miles distant, on Lake Nicaragua. We traveled this part of the way on donkeys. The roads were in pretty fair condition, and a few of the ladies, being well skilled in horsemanship, rode sideways, but the majority of them having but little knowledge of equestrian exercises, rode like men. This was my first entrance into the dismal glories of a tropical forest. The trees pressed against each other for room, and were clothed with the heaviest and most luxuriant foliage I ever beheld, presenting every tint and shade of green. Coppice and parasites filled up the interstices between them. Myriads of gay-plumaged birds warbled upon their branches. Ten thousand times ten thousand insects chirped beneath their limbs. Nimble monkeys ran up their trunks, and venomous reptiles slept in their shadows.
To give an idea of the weather, I will simply say that, if I intended to become a citizen of Nicaragua, I should advocate the immediate construction of three public works, namely: a government bellows, a state fan, and a great national umbrella! With the aid of these cooling machines, I should think a person might manage to keep passably comfortable; but without them, the heat is almost intolerable. In our own country, the people are apt to complain of the hot days which dawn upon them in July and August, but the caloric of the United States bears no more comparison to that of Nicaragua than a frosty morning in Carolina to a perpetual winter in Greenland.
We rode on, however, in spite of the fiery heat of the sun, and arrived at Virgin Bay in good season for dinner. There were eight or ten dirty little taverns in this despicable little town, and as it was uncertain how long we should have to wait for our baggage, which was still behind, and which was not expected before night, we placed ourselves in charge of the landlords, who were highly pleased to receive such a multitude of guests. About four o’clock in the afternoon, I went down to the lake to bathe, having been previously assured that the alligators did not frequent that side of the bay, except during the night.
The scenery here was grand beyond description. Lake Nicaragua itself may be justly termed an inland sea. It is more than one hundred miles long, and sixty miles in width. Mount Ometepe, a dormant volcano, and by far the most beautiful elevation I ever saw, rises up out of the midst of this lake, in the form of a sugar-loaf, to the height of seven thousand feet. At a rough guess, I should say it was about fifty miles in circumference at the base, or rather at the surface of the water.
A little before sunset, I returned to my hotel, and took supper. I had, however, but little appetite for culinary preparations, for I had fed myself on such a quantity of mangoes, oranges, bananas, and other tropical fruits, that I was quite surfeited. Forty or fifty hammocks were suspended in the loft of the hotel, and these were more attractive than any other part of the entertainment.
We sat up until nearly midnight, waiting for our baggage, but it did not come; and we were then informed that it would not arrive before morning. The sun arose and found us still separated from our effects. Noon came and brought the baggage with it. Thus you see we had suffered an unnecessary delay of twenty-four hours at Virgin Bay. The steamer Ometepe was now ready to receive us, and as we were all anxious to reach home, we lost no time in going aboard. From this place we sailed in a south-easterly direction until breakfast hour next morning, when we arrived at Fort San Carlos, where we entered the San Juan river, which conveys the waters of Lake Nicaragua into the Caribbean Sea. There was nothing to be seen at San Carlos, except the dilapidated fort, and it was not worth looking at. Here we had to leave the Ometepe, and embark on a smaller boat, the river being too shallow to float a vessel of deep draught.
Pursuing the current of the San Juan, we passed the unworthy little village of Castillo, and again changed boats, leaving one of sorry dimensions behind, and taking passage in a meaner one of less size, and now came the peculiar annoyance of the route. Owing to the shoals and sand banks in the river, we had to change ourselves and our baggage several times; and every change we made was from bad to worse. Those of us who had taken passage in the cabin, though we had paid more than double the price of steerage tickets, received no extra accommodation whatever. We were reduced to a level with the steerage passengers at San Juan del Sur, and no manner of distinction was made between us until we reached the opposite coast. For three days and nights we were all crowded together in utter disorder and confusion; men, women and children, white people and negroes, decent men and blackguards--all fared alike. The presence of the ladies did not seem to exercise any restraint upon the tongues of the vulgar. I am sure I had never before been in the company of a set of human beings who were capable of giving utterance to such an incessant volley of scurrilous and obscene language as I heard while crossing the Isthmus.
There was not a mouthful of victuals prepared for us on board of these miserable, rickety little steamers; nor was there any place to sleep, except on deck, among puddles of tobacco juice. Occasionally we had an opportunity of buying fruits and refreshments on the way; and this was the only method we had of procuring any thing to eat. I do not think I slept two hours out of the seventy-two which we occupied in passing the two oceans. Indeed, the Transit Company treated us very shabbily. We had paid them their price, and they had promised us better things. Sometimes, to save the steamer from running aground, we had to debark, and walk on the bank of the river. On one occasion we were compelled to travel more than two miles in this manner, before we could find water deep enough to carry us aboard the boat. As we neared the mouth of the river, we met and overtook a great many adult natives, who were in the same costume in which nature had launched them into the world. They did not seem to be conscious of any impropriety in thus exposing their persons.
Nicaragua can never fulfil its destiny until it introduces negro slavery. Nothing but slave labor can ever subdue its forests or cultivate its untimbered lands. White men may live upon its soil with an umbrella in one hand and a fan in the other; but they can never unfold or develop its resources. May we not safely conclude that negro slavery will be introduced into this country before the lapse of many years? We think so. The tendency of events fully warrants this inference.
The time may come when negro slavery will no longer be profitable in the United States; and it is also possible that the descendants of Ham may finally work their way beyond the present limits of our country. But if these fated people ever do make their exodus from the hands of their present owners, they will find themselves journeying and toiling under the control of new masters, in the fertile wildernesses and savannas nearer the equator. Louisiana and Texas may, at some future time--far in the future--find it to their interest to adopt the white slavery system of the North; but if negro slavery ever ceases to exist in the United States, Mexico, Central America, and the countries still further South, will have to become its outlets and receptacles.
It would be no easy task to find a more feeble and ineffective population than that which now idles away a miserable existence in Nicaragua. Nature is too bountiful to the inhabitants. It supplies them with every necessary of life, and consequently there is no incentive to exertion or emulation. Countless fruits and nuts grow and ripen spontaneously, and they have nothing to do but to eat them. We did not pass a single patch of ground under cultivation; nor did I see any improvement, except the despicable little huts and shanties in which the people lived.
On the morning of the first day of April, we arrived at San Juan del Norte, alias Greytown, which has recently handed its name down to history, in connection with that of commander Hollins, by whom, in compliance with instructions from our government, it was bombarded a few months ago. We did not go on shore, but I saw enough of the place to convince me that it was never worth half the paper which has been spoiled by diplomatic notes concerning it. The Americans call it Greytown, but the original Spanish name is San Juan del Norte, which, when Anglicized, means Saint John of the North. As we have had a good deal to say respecting San Juan del Sur, it may not be amiss to state that the English of it is Saint John of the South. Just before we left the mouth of the river, we saw eight or ten full-grown alligators, basking on an islet, thirty or forty yards from us. They were all lying near each other, and did not seem to be frightened at our appearance. I was well pleased to have such a fair view of these amiable lizards, but regretted my inability to secure one for Barnum! About three hundred of our passengers waved us an adieu at Greytown, and took passage in the steamer Daniel Webster for New Orleans. The rest immediately set sail for New York, in the steamer Star of the West.
We now found ourselves happily situated where we had good order, good accommodations, and good treatment--three good things which many of us had not been accustomed to for three long years. An air of propriety and fitness pervaded the Star of the West fore and aft; and we felt as if we were emerging from a vile and debased community, and entering upon the threshold of refined society. No incident worthy of note occurred during this part of our voyage. We were in hopes the captain would stop at Kingston, Havana, or some other West India port; but he had no occasion to do so. Passing on between Cuba and Yucatan, we rounded the Florida Reefs, and then followed the Gulf stream until we reached the latitude of Cape Hatteras, when we bore nearer the land, and ran into the harbor of New York on Sunday, April 9th, having had a passage of twenty-four days from San Francisco.
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The land of gold; reality versus fictionChapter XV: Voyage From California Via Nicaragua
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