CHAPTER XIV.

An Indian steam bath. — Tumbalá. — Sierras and Forests. — San Pedro. — Desertion of guide. — Alguazils. — Construction of Indian huts. — Habits of Indians. — Cargadores. — Crossing a River. — Forests beyond San Pedro. — Powers of endurance of Indians. — Arrival at San Domingo del Palenque.

The base of the sierra whose summit we had to reach before night, was about two leagues from Yajalon. After having ridden that distance I expected to see some indications of Tumbalá, but not being able to make out anything, I asked Villafranca where it was. He pointed upwards towards the sky, and said “En el núbe, (in the cloud) Señor.” In effect it was just possible to see the church amongst the clouds which were sweeping over the highest ridge of the Cordilleras.

The greater part of the day was passed in making the ascent, which was a steep and continuous rise for over three leagues. In the afternoon, when we had attained to a considerable height, we left below us the bright and sunny daylight, and entered into the region of cloudland. The weather became cold and gloomy, and as we approached Tumbalá it was scarcely possible to see our way for we were moving in a dark fog. Near the outskirts of the hamlet we passed close to a structure of an unusual shape, not unlike an oven. I was afterwards informed that it was used by Indians in time of sickness and was practically a steam bath. The methods of using it were similar to those adopted by many of the tribes in North America. The patient finds inside a supply of water to generate steam. Heated stones are passed in from outside and these he drops into the water. This system is said to be efficacious in the disorders to which men living amongst the Cordilleras are subject, and which are probably caused by exposure to sudden changes of temperature. It was strange to see amongst these remote sierras a practice which seemed to establish the fact that there were links connecting these Mexican Indians with the Dakotas in North America, the natives of Hawaii, and the Maoris in the distant islands of New Zealand.

When we arrived at the walls of the convent it was evident that there was a general state of commotion without and within. Some event had happened, the nature of which I was unable to ascertain. The precincts were crowded with numerous groups of Indians and Ladinos. The priest was living in a large shed. The quadrangle was apparently used as a farmyard and was filled with cattle, horses, mules, turkeys and fowls, all wandering about at their own free will, and causing an indescribable disturbance. The mists were so thick that it was quite impossible to make anything out clearly.

Inside the shed the state of affairs was equally confusing. Men, women and children were busily engaged in preparing to pass the night under the protection of the roof, and were choosing their sleeping places. As it was necessary to find room without delay, I told Villafranca to hang my hammock to the rafters as near to the fire as possible. We then went out and tethered the mule upon a level open space beyond, which we thought to be convenient for the purpose, but the clouds were so dense that we could not see what we were doing. After some further trouble, supplies of forage and water were obtained, and placed within the mule’s reach. We then returned to the shed within which the priest was endeavouring to find suitable quarters for his numerous visitors.

Later in the evening we were joined by a young couple who had just been married, and wanted shelter. It happened that there was an Indian bedstead available and this together with two extemporized pillows was placed at their disposal. When it became night, we sat round the fire and cooked our suppers, and then sleeping mats were unrolled and spread upon the ground. The Cura placed his mat near the fire, beneath my hammock. Amongst the crowd were several young mothers who had their infants with them. These little creatures were duly attended to and their wants supplied. The mothers then proceeded to roll them up tightly in swaddling clothes until only their heads were visible. They were afterwards placed in a row against the wall, where they looked like diminutive Egyptian mummies, their large round eyes staring at us in a most unmeaning manner. When all these various arrangements were completed the doors were closed.

What happened during the night I do not know, but upon awaking in the morning I found that I was alone and that the shed was empty. All the numerous inmates of the previous night had departed. I turned out of my hammock and joined the Cura who was walking in front of his ruined convent. He said he would accompany me for a few hundred yards to the outer edge of the sierra, to look at the world around and beneath us.

The clouds had disappeared, the sun had risen brightly above the eastern horizon, the sky was blue, the air felt pure and exhilarating, and the view was magnificent. Not only did we command range upon range of these Cordilleras, but there were also extensive views of the valleys below us. Beyond, looking northwards, were the savannahs and the tropical lowlands near Palenque; and in the far distance the sunlight was flashing upon the calm waters of the Laguna de Terminos.

Near at hand were groups of wild-looking Indians watching our movements. The Cura said he believed they belonged to the Maya race, and were allied to the tribes that occupied Yucatan. In their appearance they were like the Tzendales near Bachajon. They were strongly built men, rather low in stature, and very dark in colour; their eyes had peculiarly rounded orbits, and their long black hair was cut square over the forehead. They spoke a language which sounded very rough and abrupt. The Cura observed that the Indians dwelling amongst the mountains were daily becoming neglected, and that they were left entirely free to follow their own beliefs and customs. In consequence of there being no regular stipend for the clergy, it had become impossible to maintain a sufficient number of priests to carry out the duties. He had to superintend the parishes at Tumbalá, San Pedro, Palenque and the districts around Las Playas, near the river Usamacinta, and therefore he could not attend personally to the numerous and scattered Indians placed under his charge.

Upon our return to the convent, Villafranca came to me and reported that the mule was ready and that he had got his machete sharpened in order to clear away any branches or brushwood that we might find to be obstructing the track. He added to his pack some part of the weights carried by the mule, as it was necessary that she should be as free as possible, to push her way through the woods, and we reduced the quantities of food and other necessaries to the lowest amount practicable. A young Mexican who was going to the seacoast came with us as far as the entrance to the forest. He then told me that he should not attempt to go through it with his clothes on, so he stopped and stripped to the skin, and tied his clothes up in a bundle which he fastened to the top of his head. He was a white man of mixed descent and in his action he showed some elements of the nature of his remote Indian ancestry. He ran rapidly to the front, plunged into the forest like a lithe athletic young savage, and was soon out of sight.

As it was not possible to ride I dismounted, and we began to descend the steep sides of the mountain. It was very hard work. Villafranca led the way. I followed close to him, holding the halter at its full length, to prevent the mule as she slipped forward from falling upon me. This manner of progression was made difficult by the obstinate conduct of the mule. She would occasionally attempt to choose her own way and go the wrong side of a tree, and as no energy expended in trying to get her back was of any use, I had always to yield and to follow her round the trunk. Upon one occasion she got away into the forest and was nearly lost. The guide at once threw off his pack and went after her.

The instincts of an Indian were apparent in his proceedings. He carefully marked every step of his advance through the dense undergrowth by cutting down small branches of the trees and placing them on the line of his track. He also here and there, but always on the left hand side, cut notches in the trees or bent some twigs backwards. After a few minutes interval he returned triumphantly with the mule, and after this experience I took care not to allow the halter to leave my hands again.

The fatigues of the day were beyond description. I had been prepared to expect difficulties from the steepness of the ascents and descents and the growth of the underwood, but there were other obstacles which were previously unknown. Our track was constantly barred by creepers which crossed from tree to tree in festoons like thick ropes. They hung loosely in bends and bights in every conceivable shape, but usually they swept the ground in semicircles. Others were hanging in graceful loops three or four feet above the ground, so that the mule was unable to pass under them. There were also miry, swampy places in which the mule sometimes sank to an almost dangerous depth. But what I found to be the most serious trial was the want of ventilation. There was absolutely no movement in the air or any sounds of life, and there was very little daylight, for the rays of the sun above did not penetrate to the ground.

The forest was dark and gloomy, and the atmosphere most oppressive. The want of a proper supply of fresh air to breathe made the journey extremely exhausting. After struggling for several hours down the rugged slopes of the first mountain, we reached a narrow valley and crossed a small stream. We then had to climb up another sierra so steep that it required all my available strength to reach the summit. From this height there remained another league to be traversed down a steep rocky slope to a wide open savannah, upon which was situated San Pedro. Towards sunset we arrived at the village and found shelter under a shed, within which was installed the official who ruled over the district, and who was called the Maestro.

In the morning I discovered that during the night my guide had deserted. Possibly some accident may have happened to him, but in my opinion his conduct was a deliberate act of desertion. I reported the case immediately to the Maestro, but Villafranca could not be found and I never saw him again. It was supposed that he found the work and fatigue of the day greater than he had expected, and was not willing to make his way on the morrow through the equally dense forests between San Pedro and Palenque. If this surmise was correct his view of the situation was quite intelligible, but as I did not consider that an act of this kind should remain unpunished, I arranged with the Maestro that a letter from me should be dispatched to Yajalon where the man had been hired.

I wrote to the Presbitero Macal an account of the desertion and requested him to bring the case to the notice of the alcalde, in order that Villafranca should receive a punishment in accordance with the custom of the country, and that he should be deprived of his wages which had been left in the Presbitero’s charge. I also requested that this money should be given to any of his deserving or distressed parishioners. In justice however to this Tzendal, it should be noted that he did not rob me. I found everything carefully piled up in a corner of the shed; saddle, clothes, rug and the remains of the provisions sufficient for one day. The mule was safely tethered outside the door.

I was thus placed in a very insecure position and had to rely entirely upon my own resources. The hamlet was surrounded in all directions by sierras and forests, and I had not the slightest knowledge of the mountain passes. With regard to food I could manage very well as I was able to make a fire and was prepared to make the provisions last for more than one day if necessary, but in other respects I was entirely dependent upon the good will of the San Pedro Indians about whom very little was known, but who were considered to be untrustworthy.

The Maestro declared that he would do all that was in his power to assist me, and promised that he would get a guide who would go with me to Palenque. But he said that he could not find a man at once, and that it would be necessary that I should stop in the convent until the following day. In some respects I was not sorry to be detained, for I was thus enabled to have some spare time to see something of the habits of life amongst the inhabitants of this isolated village, so singularly placed in the heart of these remote Cordilleras. I observed that the Maestro maintained towards those who were placed under his rule a dignified and reserved manner. He was supported in his authority by two alcaldes, and two alguazils who were Indians elected annually for these posts. The alguazils wore suitable dresses and performed regular police duties, walking at intervals about the village, carrying long wands of office. It was also their custom to visit the Maestro occasionally, attend to his wants, and render such personal service as he required. In obedience to his directions, they obtained for me supplies of maize and water for the mule, and tortillas and beans for myself, and thus I was able to cook a tolerable breakfast.

During the day I wandered amongst the huts within and near the hamlet in order to see something of the natives who lived in them and were said to follow the ancient customs and habits of domestic life. Near the borders of the savannah some Indians were building a large hut and I observed a method of construction which, although absolutely the reverse of any system that I had previously known, was most suitable for their wants. In the first place the roof is built. This when completed, looks like an open thatched shed resting upon upright poles. The eaves are brought down low, but sufficiently high to enable a man of moderate height to pass under them without stooping. When the roof is considered firm and secure, the four walls inclosing the room are made. They are usually constructed of crossed laths and sticks, and thickly plastered over with a kind of mud which has a good binding consistence.

The walls are raised until they reach within a short distance from the slope of the roof, a sufficient space being left for the escape of smoke. The size of the hut and the height of the walls are determined by the width and slope of roof. A few rough cross poles are placed across the top of the walls for the purpose of hanging up any household goods, and sometimes at one end some of these poles are placed close together so as to form a platform, where bags of maize and other farm produce are kept or dried. When the roof is wide and the overhanging eaves are low there is an agreeable and well shaded space outside the main hut, where the Indians rest during the day.[77]

As far as it was possible to judge from a passing observation the Indians at San Pedro seemed to be a contented race. They cultivated their milpas or corn fields sufficiently to get enough to supply them with maize bread and pozole, and at most of the huts there were fowls and a few pigs. The women laboured in some form of household work, and much of their time was occupied in grinding the maize to make tortillas. At this village, as in others chiefly inhabited by Indians, there was an absence of any human sounds. In the interior of the huts, as also outside them, all the occupations of life were performed in silence. In the evening, when the men returned home from their work, there was the same manner of moving about without noise. There appeared to be also an absence of all interest in what was happening around them, which gave an element of sadness to the scene. Their lives seem to be passed in a state of quiet melancholy and listlessness.

This condition of the Indians is practically the same throughout this part of Central America. The problem of existence is worked out in its lowest terms. It cannot however be said that they live in want and poverty, because they have no wants. They exist, and are apparently content to exist, in the state in which they find themselves placed. The bare ground, a thatched roof, bedstead, a few mats, some firewood, and a small store of maize suffice for the necessities of their lives. Their submissive natures assent to these conditions and they seem to accept their fate with passive resignation.

Upon my return to the shed in the evening, I found that it was enlivened by the arrival of a busy, loud-voiced Spaniard named Don Pepe Ortiz. He informed me that he was travelling from Oaxaca towards the coast of the Gulf of Campeachy with a cargo of tobacco. He had with him a band of cargadores to carry the bales. He also employed for his own personal use a man of great strength to carry him in places where he could not ride a mule. The direction of his journey over the sierras was for some distance the same as my own, and he proposed that we should, without delay, make arrangements for crossing a river which occasionally was difficult to pass over. I had not heard that there was a stream of any importance in our way, and I asked Don Pepe to do what was expedient. Accordingly he sent on an Indian to order several canoes to be in readiness for us on the following morning.

At sunrise my new guide José arrived and we all started together. After riding about a league we reached the bank of a river, called the San Pedro, which we found to be a deep stream about three hundred yards wide. The passage was not made without difficulties, chiefly caused by the conduct of the mules, when they reached the opposite bank, which was very steep. The canoes were in attendance, and I selected one which seemed to be convenient for the moderate weights to be carried. The mule was fastened by the halter to the stem of the canoe, and swam across with ease, but she obstinately refused to go on shore at the proper landing place, and consequently, after several unavailing attempts, I allowed her to go free and choose for herself. She swam down with the current for about a hundred yards, and then with much good judgment she selected her own spot and scrambled safely up the bank.

After having successfully accomplished my crossing, I watched the movements of Don Pepe and his men in their canoes. It was a picturesque scene, but it was within two hours of midday before we were all established on the northern side of the river. We then commenced the dreaded ascent about which many warnings had been given to me. It was a steep climb for five long leagues and it was nearly sunset when we reached the summit. We stopped for the night in a small shed which sheltered us from the dew.

Don Pepe’s Indians arrived after us and insisted upon lighting a large fire just outside the hut, with the object they said of keeping away tigers, and kept it burning like a bonfire as long as it was dark. At daylight José and myself and mule began the descent of the opposite slope of the sierra. I had been told that we should find this part of the journey very arduous, but it exceeded in difficulty anything that I had imagined.

The track, or opening through the trees had almost disappeared, and we had to make our own way between detached masses of sharp, angular rocks. Frequently it was necessary to scramble over them or to slide down them, and it occasionally seemed to me that we were going at random down the side of the mountain. But what made our progress more than usually difficult was the fact that, in several places, decaying trunks of large trees had fallen across our path, and as it was not practicable to get the mule over them, we were obliged to diverge into the forest to pass round them. When it was thus necessary to quit our line of direction, José would instantly draw his machete and mark our movements by cutting down branches, so as to secure the means of retreat to our starting point, in case we failed to find the path again. I was quite aware of the importance of this action. It was astonishing to find how in a few seconds in a dense forest and amongst thick growth of underwood and creepers all knowledge of direction seems to be lost.

The length of this precipitous descent was a little more than five miles, and we took four hours to accomplish the distance. During that time I never saw a glimpse of the sky, although I knew that, above the trees, the sun was shining brilliantly.

In the forenoon we reached the banks of the Nopá, which ran at the base of the sierra, and halted there to rest. We then passed over the river, and pushed or cut our way through two leagues of dense forest and thick brushwood. There were also several small streams with low but steep and slippery banks that had to be crossed. Finally we reached and forded the river Michol. The worst was then over, and we emerged from the forest and saw before us a savannah where we decided to encamp. I obtained a slight shelter under the sloping roof of a little open hut, which had been left there by some passing Indians. Thus ended a most fatiguing day.

Don Pepe and his Indians arrived after sunset and encamped near us. The methods adopted by these Indians when preparing to pass the night upon an open savannah were instructive. In the first instance they placed upon the ground a quantity of broad dry leaves to protect them from the damp grass. They then dispersed, and in a few minutes the adjacent forest resounded with the noise of the blows made by their machetes. They returned bearing loads of firewood and also several strong forked branches. These they sharpened at one end and fixed into the earth near the camping place to form supports to carry the bales of tobacco. In this manner the cargo was raised about three feet, and thus they carried out the invariable rule of Indians who never leave anything upon the ground at night. They then lighted a large fire.

There were characteristics with respect to these Oaxaca Indians, which I had already observed on the previous day, but which more particularly came under my notice upon this occasion. They had gone through a long day’s work of most severe labour, and yet upon settling down for the night’s rest they neither ate any food or drank any water. My guides, who were not, like these men, trained to carry great weights for considerable distances, were also able to live upon very small quantities of food and never seemed to be tired at the end of the day’s journey.

It was the custom of each Indian before leaving his home to provide himself with a small quantity of a substance called pozole, which was prepared for him by his wife. This was usually made in the following manner. A sufficient quantity of maize was partly boiled, until the grain could be easily removed from the husks. These softened grains were then ground upon the metatl or grindstone until a thick paste was made. This was either put into a little bag or rolled up in a green leaf. This paste was the principal part of the food that was carried, but sometimes the wives gave their husbands a supply of tortillas. To make these, the grains of maize, after being slightly boiled, are put upon the metatl, and rolled out into a very thin pancake; this is taken off the stone and put upon a large leaf and made into a round shape. It is then placed upon a pan and held for a few minutes over the fire, until it is properly baked, when it becomes a tortilla. With a few of these and his scant store of pozole an Indian always considers himself to be amply provisioned until he returns to his village or secluded country hut.

My guides took their principal meal about noon. A portion of the paste was taken out of the leaf and placed upon the palm of the left hand, a small quantity of water was then mixed with it until it became slightly fluid and then it was eaten. In the evening they usually took more pozole and a tortilla, after which they would drink some water mixed with enough of the pozole to make it become the colour and consistency of thin milk. In this manner they avoided drinking pure cold water. This was the daily food of my Indians, upon which they could go long journeys carrying considerable weights, and they never appeared to be tired.[78]

The cargadores are trained from boyhood to carry heavy burdens over great distances. Don Pepe expected them to travel eight leagues a day. But when carrying lighter loads they will sometimes travel for several consecutive days at the rate of nearly forty English miles a day. When the cargo-bearers were moving in single file with their burdens, they looked like the Tamemes bearing tribute to Montezuma as represented in the ancient pictures. It is probable that these men were enduring labours similar to those that had been performed by their ancestors for centuries before the arrival of the Spaniards.

In the morning the Indians proceeded on their journey towards the coast. We followed a path leading in another direction, through open and wooded lowlands. Finally after a ride of four leagues we reached the savannah upon which is situated the village of San Domingo del Palenque.

Never have I known a moment of more keen pleasure and satisfaction, than that when José pointed out to me this beautiful spot. I had become fatigued by the hardships of the previous days, and the buoyancy of mind that was felt in getting at last into a region of life and sunshine cannot be adequately expressed.

We stopped to ask where Doctor Coller lived, and were shown the position of a low, thatched cottage, at the door of which stood the only European living in the village.[79] I was received by him with friendly welcome. My hammock was placed under the shade of the projecting thatch. The mule was set free to wander at will amongst the plains, and I was advised to take twenty-four hours complete rest. On the following forenoon I made arrangements for proceeding to the ruins, and a few Indians were sent there to open the path, and to clear the inner courts of the palace from weeds and brushwood.

San Domingo del Palenque is placed upon a rising grassy slope studded with fine trees. The church was in ruins and roofless. The population consisted chiefly of Ladinos. The Indians lived in secluded places near the outskirts, where they cultivated their milpas or cornfields. There was a charm about this sunny fertile savannah and the simple habits of life of its inhabitants, which must be attractive to men of sensitive temperaments. The land is fertile, corn is abundant, and cattle, horses and mules wander over the green pastures in freedom.

It was an unusual series of circumstances that had caused Dr. Coller to settle for life in this remote part of the world. He told me that he was a native of Switzerland and was born at Zurich. He was educated in that city but completed his studies at Berlin. Much of his early life was passed in different countries. About ten years before my arrival, he felt a wish to see Palenque and found his way to this region from the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. Upon reaching the village he was fascinated by its beautiful situation, its repose and its proximity to the ancient ruins in which he felt the strongest interest. He found that the life at San Domingo had an attraction for him which he did not wish to resist, and he decided to make this place his home, and married a native who possessed, in her own right, some land in the neighbourhood.[80]

Dr. Coller was a man of varied and extensive information and an excellent linguist. He had devoted much time, not only to the investigation of the Indian antiquities, but also to the study of the geology and botany of the district, and I was much pleased when he proposed to accompany me to Palenque. It was of the greatest advantage thus to have the benefit of his accurate knowledge of the positions of the mounds and temples.