Part 1 (1/2)

Six Days on the Hurricane Deck of a Mule.

by Almira Stillwell Cole.

Last spring I almost learned to ride a bicycle.

Those who have had a similar struggle will correctly estimate the exact value of that word _almost_. I was laboring under peculiar difficulties, for I was a whilom inmate of one of those sacred inst.i.tutions--a young ladies' boarding-school,--where any infringement upon the Spartan law of dignity would have been looked upon as less pardonable than a simultaneous indulgence in the seven deadly sins.

My agony of mind and body under those circ.u.mstances can be better imagined than described. Methought life held no more painful experience, but how impossible it is to gauge endurance and cla.s.sify suffering I have since learned.

When, later on, I announced to my friends and relatives my intention of taking up a residence in the interior of _Honduras_ for the ensuing five years, I was fairly overwhelmed by the storm of exclamations, reproaches, dire predictions, and tearful expostulations, none of which shook my resolution.

I a.s.sured them that the trip was simple enough,--by steamer from _New York_ to _Colon_, thence by rail to _Panama_, where a steamer was taken to _Amapala_, and then over the mountain on mule-back.

One friend in vain tried to move me by drawing dreadful pictures of life with a ruined complexion; another a.s.sured me I was going to bury myself among barbarians; a third pointed out the miseries of sea-sickness and the certainty of death from some fever which would be sure to attack me at once, and so _ad infinitum_.

I bore it all as meekly as possible and with outward patience, but inward raging. I told them I cared more for the complexion of my life than the amount of sun-kissed pigment my skin contained; I would civilize all the barbarians I found; and since others had endured sea-sickness so could I.

However, at last a teasing cousin did hit upon a fact, and a stubborn one, which had tormented me considerably--that mule I was to ride. He a.s.sured me that had I ever attempted to ride a wheel I would have some idea of what was in store for me. With a sinking heart but unabashed countenance, I smiled a superior sort of smile and replied that I had learned to ride a wheel.

”Well, a mule is worse,” was the reply that somewhat staggered me.

Then I did not believe him, but now I think he must be divinely gifted with the spirit of prophecy.

Sailing day came, and with all the a.s.surance and independence of a typical American young woman, I stood on the deck of a steamer alone, and watched the familiar faces of friends fade into the distance.

Sixteen days later, as I was about to go ash.o.r.e in _Honduras_, I audibly wondered why any one should find the journey anything but delightful.

Every moment had been an enjoyable one, and I had entirely escaped one of the foretold horrors. Imagine the shadow that crept across the suns.h.i.+ne of my mental vision, when the Captain of the s.h.i.+p I was leaving so regretfully remarked, with a wise and mysterious shake of his head:

”Perhaps you will see why, when you have been for six days on the hurricane deck of a mule.”

A youth, considerably my junior, whom I had known well as a schoolboy in the States, had come with two men-servants and six mules to meet me. As I stood on sh.o.r.e and watched the vessel steam out of the harbor, I did almost feel as if I had had my final contact with civilization.

We went at once to the hotel, which I thought the dirtiest place I had ever seen. Since then I have learned to discriminate nicely between different degrees of filth.

Here we were obliged to remain for two days, for _Amapala_ is on an island, and one has to be transported to the mainland before the journey can be continued. The little steamer does not run regularly, as _manana_ is the same as to-day, if not preferable, to the native of the coast.

We could hardly believe the evidence of our senses when finally we were plowing our way over the bay toward our desired destination, some two and a half hours after the proprietors of the launch had a.s.sured us they would be ready to start.

In all the heat of the tropical noonday sun we came to a stop two hours later, at _La Brea_, and alighted upon a sandy beach, back of which were a store-house and a few small mud cabins. In the office of the store-house we ate our lunch, and shortly after word came to me that the fated moment for mounting had arrived.

With a heart beating with apprehension I went outside where I found quite a group of curious natives, while in the midst stood the antagonist with whom I was to wage such an unaccustomed warfare--a gentle-looking beast, gayly trapped out in a handsome saddle of red and tan leather, under which was a corresponding velvet cloth.

With a degree of satisfaction somewhat rea.s.suring, I noted that she was large enough to carry me and yet so small that a fall from her height could not be wholly fatal. What I further noticed and was troubled by was the fact that the saddle was made for the right side instead of the left, and then it was borne in upon my mind, that the hope that a slight experience on horseback ten years before would prove of some service to me now, was a perfectly futile one. I was about to embark upon an unknown sea, with no chart to guide me in its navigation.

Meanwhile a low chair had been brought, upon which I climbed preparatory to making the further ascent. Just then my courage was at such a low ebb that to take the next step seemed beyond me.

”Vincent, I can't do it.”

”You must,” was the unsympathizing reply, and seeing me still hesitate, he added: ”You can't walk, and this is the only way.”