Part 5

Mr. A. was delayed in getting his foreman and had the customary difficulty in hiring help. Three hundred men was all he could muster at first, and they were secured only by paying a liberal advance of twenty-five per cent. over the usual wages. They began cutting timber about the 28th of April,--the season when this work should have been finished, and continued until the rainy season commenced, when scarcely any of the clearing had been burned; and after the rains came it was impossible to start a fire, so the whole work of felling upwards of four hundred acres of forest was abandoned. Every stub and stump seemed to shoot up a dozen sprouts, and growing up through the thick layer of brush, branches and logs, they formed a network that challenged invasion by man or beast. The labor was therefore all lost and the tobacco project abandoned in disgust.

I was told by one of the oldest inhabitants--past ninety--that it had never once failed to rain on San Juan's (Saint John's) Day, the 24th of June. Sometimes the rainy season begins a little earlier, and occasionally a little later, but that day never passes without bringing at least a light shower. Of course it was in accord with my friend's run of luck that this should be the year when the rainy season began prematurely; but the truth of the matter is, it was about the most fortunate circumstance that could have occurred; for as it turned out he lost only the money laid out for labor, together with the excess price paid for the land above what it was worth; whereas, had everything gone well he was likely to have lost many thousands of dollars more.[10]

[10] A few years later Mr. A. sold his unimproved land for about one-third of what it cost him, so that now I am the only one of the party to retain any permanent encumbrances there. Be it said, however, to the credit of my injudicious investment, that there has never been a year when I have not received a small net return, over expenses; and that is far more than I can say for my farm in Massachusetts, with all its modern equipments. It has lately been discovered that that section of Mexico is rich in petroleum, and in 1908 I leased the oil-privileges alone for a sum nearly as large as I expected ever to realize for the whole place.

In the meantime I had been looking the field over industriously, and had concluded that the sugar and cattle industries promised the surest and greatest returns. I heard of a ranch, with sugar-plantation, for sale up in the Tuxpam valley. It was owned by an American who had occupied it forty-seven years, during which time he had made enough to live comfortably and educate two sons in American schools. He was well past seventy and wished to retire from the cares of active business,--which I regarded as a justifiable excuse for selling. We visited the place and found the only American-built house we had seen since leaving home. The place was in a fairly good state of repair, though the pasture lands and canefields had been allowed to deteriorate. The whole place was for sale, including cattle, mules, wagons, sugar-factory, tenement houses, machinery and growing crops; in fact, everything went. The price asked appeared so low that I was astonished at the owner's modesty in estimating its value. I accepted his offer on the spot, paying a small sum down to bind the bargain,--fearing that he would change his mind. It was not long, however, before I changed my estimate of his modesty, and marveled at his boldness in having the courage to ask the price he did. On our way back to town my companions argued that I was foolish to try to make money in sugar or cattle raising; that there was no nearby market for the cattle, and that the Cuban sugar was produced so abundantly and so cheaply that there would be no profit in competing with it in the American market. This was perfectly sound logic, as testified to by later experiences, but it fell upon deaf ears. I had been inoculated with the sugar and cattle germ as effectively as my friend had been with the tobacco germ, and could see nothing but profit everywhere. Mr. A. was to have a Cuban tobacco man, and why couldn't I have an experienced Cuban sugar man? I expected to double the magnitude of the canefields, as the foreman--who promised to remain--had declared that this could be done without crowding the capacity of the factory. I would also import some shorthorn cattle from the United States, and figured out that I should need a whole carload of farming implements.

It may be remarked that almost without exception the American visitor here is immediately impressed with the unbounded possibilities of making vast fortunes. The resources of the soil appear almost limitless. The foliage of the trees and shrubs is luxuriant the year round, and the verdure of the pastures and all vegetation is inspiring at all seasons. The climate is delightful, even in midsummer, and with such surroundings and apparent advantages for agricultural pursuits one marvels at the inactivity and seeming stupidity of the natives. After a few months' experience in contending with the multiplicity of pests and perversities that stand athwart the path of progress, and becoming inoculated with the monotony of the tropical climate, one can but wonder that there should be any energy or ambition at all. The tendency of Americans is always to apply American energy and ideas to Mexican conditions, with the result that nothing works harmoniously. The country here is hundreds of years behind our times, and cannot be brought into step with our progressiveness except by degrees. Our modern methods and ideas assimilate with those of Mexico very slowly, if at all. It is almost impossible to develop any one locality or industry independent of the surroundings. The truth is, if you would live comfortably in Mexico (which in these parts is quite beyond human possibility) you must live as Mexicans do, for they are clever enough, and have lived here long enough, to make the best of conditions. If you would farm successfully in Mexico, you must farm precisely as they do, for you will eventually find that there is some well-grounded reason for every common usage; and if you would make money in Mexico, stay away entirely and dismiss the very thought of it. Pure cream cannot be extracted from chalk and water,--though it may look like milk,--because the deficiency of the necessary elements forbids it; no more can fortunes be made in this part of Mexico, because they are not here to be made, as every condition forbids their accumulation. The impoverished condition of the people is such that a large percentage of the families subsist on an average income of less than ten cents a day, silver.

Although the peon class are indigent, lazy and utterly devoid of ambition they are so by virtue of climatic and other conditions that surround them, and of which they can be but the natural outgrowth. The debilitating effects of the climate, and the numberless bodily pests draw so heavily upon human vitality that it is surprising that any one after a year's residence there can muster sufficient energy to work at all. The natives, after a day's labor will throw themselves upon the hard ground and fall asleep, calmly submitting to the attack of fleas and wood-ticks as a martyrdom from which it is useless to attempt to escape. It is a labored and painful existence they lead, and it is not to be wondered at that smallpox, pestilence and death have no terror for them; indeed, they hail these as welcome messengers of relief. When by the pangs of hunger they are driven to the exertion of work they will do a fair day's labor, if kept constantly under the eye of a watchman, or _capitan_, as he is called. One of these is required for about every ten or twelve workmen; otherwise they would do nothing at all. If twenty workmen were sent to the field to cut brush, without designating someone as captain, they would not in the course of the whole day clear a patch large enough to sit down on. The best workmen are the Indians that come down from the upper-country settlements. Upon leaving home they take along about twelve days' rations, usually consisting of black beans and corn ground up together into a thick dough and made into little balls a trifle larger than a hen's egg, and baked in hot ashes. They eat three of these a day,--one for each meal,--and when the supply is exhausted they collect their earnings and return to their homes, no matter how urgent the demand for their continued service may be. In two or three weeks they will return again with another supply of provisions and stay until it is consumed, but no longer. If Thoreau could have seen how modestly these people live he would have learned a lesson in economic living such as he never dreamed of. The frugality of his meagre fare at his Walden pond hermitage would have appeared like wanton luxury by comparison. If the virtue of honesty can be ascribed to any of these laborers the Indians are entitled to the larger share of it. They keep pretty much to themselves and seldom inter-marry or mingle socially with the dusky-skinned Aztecs.

It is difficult to get the natives to work as long as they have a little corn for _tortillas_ or a pound of beans in the house. I have known dozens of instances where they would come at daylight in search of a day's work, leaving the whole family at home without a mouthful of victuals. If successful in getting work they would prefer to take their day's pay in corn, and would not return to work again until it was entirely exhausted. Hundreds of times at my ranch men applying for work were so emaciated and exhausted from lack of nourishment that they had to be fed before they were in a fit condition to send to the field.

The basic element of wealth is money, and it is impossible to make an exchange of commodities for money in great quantity where it exists only in small quantity. In other words, if you would make money it is of first importance that you go where there is money. If--as is the case--a man will labor hard from sunrise to sunset in Mexico, and provision himself, for twenty-five cents in gold, it would indicate either a scarcity of gold or a superabundance of willing laborers, and it must be the former, for the latter does not exist. Some have argued that money is to be made in Mexico by producing such articles as may be readily exchanged for American gold, but there are very few articles of merchandise for which we are _obliged_ to go to Mexico, and these cost to produce there nearly as much or more than we have to pay for them. For example, a pound of coffee in Mexico[11] costs fifty cents, the equivalent in value to the labor of an able-bodied man for twelve hours. There is some good reason for this condition, else it would not exist. In other words, if it didn't cost the monetary value of twelve hours' work (less the merchant's reasonable profit, of course) to produce a pound of coffee, it would not cost that to buy it there. It does not seem logical, therefore, that it can be produced and sold profitably to a country where a pound of this commodity is equal in value to less than two hours of a man's labor. If it were so easy and profitable to raise coffee, every native might have his own little patch for home use, and possibly a few pounds to sell. In order to be profitable, commodities must be turned out at a low cost and sold at a high cost; but here is a case where some visionary Americans have thought to get rich by working directly against the order of economic and natural laws. I have not consulted statistics to ascertain how the Mexican exports to the United States compare with their imports of our products, but it is a significant fact, as stated at the beginning of this narrative, that the highest premium obtainable for American money is for eastern exchange, used in settling balances for imports of American goods. The needs of the average Mexican are very small beyond the products of his own soil, and if the agricultural exports from their eastern ports were large the merchants would have but little difficulty in purchasing credits on New York, or any important eastern or southern seaport.

[11] It will be understood, of course, that in speaking of Mexico I refer only to the district where I visited.

I had the good fortune _not_ to be able to make any satisfactory arrangement for a practical sugar-maker from Cuba. I was more fortunate than my friend Mr. A., in not having any friend there to look out for me. Thus I saved not only the cost of an expert's services, which, comparatively speaking, would have been a trifling item, but was held up in making the contemplated extensions and improvements until my sugar-fever had subsided and I had regained my normal senses, after which I was quite contented to conduct the place in its usual way with a few slight improvements here and there. I had not in so short a time become quite reconciled, however, to the idea that the place could not be run at a profit; but figured that it could be made to yield me a considerable revenue above expenses, and that it would afford a desirable quartering-place for my family on an occasional tropical visit in winter. After returning home later in the season I induced my family to return with me in the fall and spend a part of the following winter there; and although we experienced the novelty on Christmas-day of standing on our front porch and picking luscious ripe oranges from the trees,--one of which stands at each side of the steps,--I have never again been able to bring my persuasive powers to a point where I could induce them to set foot on Mexican soil. It is largely due to the abhorrence of smallpox, malaria, snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, _garrapatas_, fleas, and a few other minor pests and conditions to which they object. Mosquitoes, however, did not molest us at the ranch.

Once while we were at the ranch my wife was told by one of the servants that there was a woman at the front door to see her. Upon going into the hall she found that the woman had stepped inside and taken a seat near the door. She arose timidly, with a bundle in her arms--which proved to be a babe--and spoke, but Mrs. Harper could not understand a word she said. The maid had entered the hall immediately behind my wife, and, as she spoke both Spanish and English, the woman explained through her that the baby was suffering with smallpox, and that she had heard that there was an American woman there who could cure it. The resultant confusion in the household beggars description. Every time I mention Mexico at home I get a graphic rehearsal of this scene. The poor woman had walked ten miles, carrying her babe, and thought she was doing no harm in bringing it in and sitting down to rest for a moment. She was put into a boat and taken down the river to Tuxpam by one of the men on the place who had already passed through the stages of this disease, and under the treatment of a Spanish physician whom I had met there the child recovered and was sent back home with its mother.

It may be observed that since arriving at Tuxpam I have appeared to neglect my friend Mr. B., but, although so far as this narrative is concerned he has not as yet been much in evidence, he was by far the busiest man in the party. Being the only unmarried man in our company he had not been long in Mexico when he began to busy himself with an industry in which single men hold an unchallenged monopoly, and one that is far more absorbing than vanilla, rubber, coffee, sugar and tobacco all combined. The immediate cause of his diversion was due to a visit that we all made to the large hacienda of a wealthy Spanish gentleman of education and refinement, who had a very beautiful and accomplished daughter but recently returned home with her mother from an extended tour through Europe, following her graduation from a fashionable and well-known ladies' seminary in America. I have made the statement in the foregoing pages that no American fortune-hunter had been known to return home from here richer than when he came, but later on we shall see that this no longer remains a truth. For the present, however, as long as we are now discussing problems of vulgar commerce, we shall leave Mr. B. undisturbed in his more engaging pursuit, and return to his case later.

Next to silver, corn is the staple and standard of value in Mexico, though its price fluctuates widely. Everybody, and nearly every animal, both untamed and domestic, and most of the insects, feed upon this article. It is the one product of the soil that can be readily utilized and converted into cash in any community and at any season. The price is usually high, often reaching upwards of the equivalent of $1 a bushel. It is measured not by the bushel, but by the _fanega_, which weighs 225 pounds. It may appear a strange anomaly that the principal native product should be so high in a soil of such wonderful productivity. An acre of ground will produce from fifty to seventy-five bushels, _twice a year_. It is planted in June as soon as the rains break the long, monotonous dry season which extends through March, April and May, and is harvested early in October; then the same ground is planted again in December for harvesting early in April. The ground requires no plowing and, if recently cleared, no weeding; so all that is necessary to do is to plant the corn and wait for it to mature. It sounds easy and looks easy, but, as with everything else, there are a few obstacles. Corn is planted in rows, about the same distance apart as in America, and is almost universally of the white variety, as this is the best for _tortillas_. The planting is accomplished by puncturing the ground with a hardwood pole, sharpened at one end. The hole is made from four to six inches deep, when the top of the pole is moved from one side to another so that the point loosens up the subsoil and makes an opening at the bottom of the hole the same width as that at the top. The corn is then dropped in and covered with a little dirt which is knocked in by striking the point of the pole gently at the opening. The moisture, however, would cause it to sprout and grow even if not covered at all. The difficulties now begin and continue successively and uninterruptedly at every stage of development to maturity, and even until the corn is finally consumed. The first of these difficulties is in the form of a small red ant which appears in myriads and eats the germ of the kernels as soon as they are planted. When the corn sprouts there is a small cut-worm that attacks it in great numbers. When the sprouts begin to make their appearance above the ground there is a blackbird lying in wait at every hill to pull it up and get the kernel. These birds, which in size are between our crow and blackbird, appear in great numbers and would destroy a ten-acre field of corn in one day if not frightened away. They have long sharp beaks, and insatiable appetites. Following these the army-worm attacks the stalk when knee high, and penetrating it at the top or tassel-end stops its growth and destroys it. These ravages continue until the corn begins to tassel, if any is so fortunate as to reach that stage. When the ears appear another worm works in at the silk, and a little later a small bird resembling our sapsucker puts in his claim to a share in the crop. Beginning at the outer edge of the field and proceeding down the row from one hill to another, he penetrates the husks of almost every ear with his needlelike bill, and the moment the milky substance of the corn is reached the ear is abandoned and another attacked. When punctured in this way the ear withers and dries up without maturing. The succession is then taken up by the parrots and parrakeets, which abound in Mexico. They may be seen in flocks flying overhead or hovering over some field, constantly chattering and squawking, at almost any hour of the day. When the corn begins to mature the raccoons appear from the woods, and entering a field at night they eat and destroy the corn like a drove of hogs. As a means of protection against these pests many of the natives keep a number of dogs, which they tie out around the field at night, and which keep up an almost constant barking and howling. Finally, just as the corn has matured and the kernels are hardening the fall rains begin, and often continue for days and even weeks with scarcely an interruption. The water runs down into the ear through the silks and rots the corn. In order to prevent this it is necessary to break every stalk just below the ear and bend the tops with the ears down so the water will run off. Later it is husked and carried to the crib, when it is subjected to the worst of all the evils, the black weevil. The eggs from which this insect springs are deposited in the corn while in the field and commence to hatch soon after it is harvested. I have personally tested this by taking an ear of corn from the field and after shelling it placed the corn in a bottle, which was corked up and set away. In about three weeks the weevils began to appear, and in six weeks every kernel was destroyed. At first I wondered why the Mexicans usually planted their corn in such small patches and so near the house, but in view of the foregoing facts this is easily explained. Almost the same vexatious conditions prevail in nearly everything that one attempts to do in this country, the variety and numbers of enemies and hindrances varying with each undertaking. There is a hoodoo lurking in every bush, and no matter which way the stranger turns he finds himself enmeshed in a veritable entanglement of impediments and aggravations.

All along and up and down the banks of the Tuxpam River, and in other more remote localities, there are countless wrecks and ruins of sugar mills, distilleries and other evidences of former American industry, which mark the last traces of blighted ambitions and ruined fortunes of investors. The weeds and bushes have overgrown the ruins and tenderly sheltered them from the sun's rays and the view of the uninquisitive passer-by. They have become the silent haunts of wild animals, scorpions and other reptiles. At the visitor's approach a flock of jaybirds will immediately set up a clamorous chattering and cawing in the surrounding trees, as if to reproach the trespasser who invades the lonely precincts of these isolated tomb-like abodes. They tell their own tale in more eloquent language than any writer could command. With each ruin there is a traditional and oftentimes pathetic story. In some cases the investor was fortunate enough to lose only his money, but in many instances the lives along with the fortunes of the more venturesome were sacrificed to some one or other of the various forms of pestilence which from time to time sweep over the country.

Among the native fruit products in this section the orange and the mango hold first rank, with bananas and plantains a close second. In close proximity to almost every native hut one will find a small patch of plantain and banana stalks. The plantain is made edible by roasting with the skin on, or by peeling and splitting it in halves and frying it in lard or butter.