CANAL COMPANY'S FEVER HOSPITAL, PANAMA
The nurse brought me my diary this morning. She found it in the insidepocket of my tunic. All of its back pages were scribbled over withorders of the day, countersigns, and the memoranda I made after Laguerreappointed me adjutant to the Legion. But in the first half of it waswhat I see I was pleased to call my "memoirs," in which I had writtenthe last chapter the day Aiken and I halted at Sagua la Grande. When Iread it over I felt that I was somehow much older than when I made thatlast entry. And yet it was only two months ago. It seems like two years.I don't feel much like writing about it, nor thinking about it, but Isuppose, if I mean to keep my "memoirs" up to date, I shall never havemore leisure in which to write than I have now. For Dr. Ezequiel says itwill be another two weeks before I can leave this cot. Sagua seems veryunimportant now. But I must not write of it as I see it now, from thisdistance, but as it appealed to me then, when everything about me wasnew and strange and wonderful.
It was my first sight of a Honduranian town, and I thought it mostcharming and curious. As I learned later it was like any otherHonduranian town and indeed like every other town in Central America.They are all built around a plaza, which sometimes is a park withfountains and tessellated marble pavements and electric lights, andsometimes only an open place of dusty grass. There is always a churchat one end, and the cafe or club, and the alcalde's house, or thegovernor's palace, at another. In the richer plazas there must alwaysbe the statue of some Liberator, and in the poorer a great wooden cross.Sagua la Grande was bright and warm and foreign looking. It remindedme of the colored prints of Mexico which I had seen in my grandfather'slibrary. The houses were thatched clay huts with gardens around themcrowded with banana palms, and trees hung with long beans, which brokeinto masses of crimson flowers. The church opposite the inn was old andyellow, and at the edge of the plaza were great palms that rustled andcourtesied. We led our mules straight through the one big room of theinn out into the yard behind it, and while doing it I committed thegrave discourtesy of not first removing my spurs. Aiken told me about itat once, and I apologized to everyone--to the alcalde, and the priest,and the village school-master who had crossed the plaza to welcomeus--and I asked them all to drink with me. I do not know that I everenjoyed a breakfast more than I did the one we ate in the big cool innwith the striped awning outside, and the naked brown children watchingus from the street, and the palms whispering overhead. The breakfastwas good in itself, but it was my surroundings which made the meal soremarkable and the fact that I was no longer at home and responsible tosomeone, but that I was talking as one man to another, and in a foreignlanguage to people who knew no other tongue. The inn-keeper was a fatlittle person in white drill and a red sash, in which he carried twosilver-mounted pistols. He looked like a ring-master in a circus, but hecooked us a most wonderful omelette with tomatoes and onions and oliveschopped up in it with oil. And an Indian woman made us tortillas, whichare like our buckwheat cakes. It was fascinating to see her toss themup in the air, and slap them into shape with her hands. Outside the sunblazed upon the white rim of huts, and the great wooden cross in theplaza threw its shadow upon the yellow facade of the church. Beside thechurch there was a chime of four bells swinging from a low ridge-pole.The dews and the sun had turned their copper a brilliant green, but hadnot hurt their music, and while we sat at breakfast a little Indian boyin crumpled vestments beat upon them with a stick, making a sweet andswinging melody. It did not seem to me a scene set for revolution, but Iliked it all so much that that one breakfast alone repaid me for my longjourney south. I was sure life in Sagua la Grande would always suitme, and that I would never ask for better company than the comic-operalandlord and the jolly young priest and the yellow-skinned, fever-riddenschoolmaster with his throat wrapped in a great woollen shawl. But verysoon, what with having had no sleep the night before and the heat, Igrew terribly drowsy and turned in on a canvas cot in the corner, whereI slept until long after mid-day. For some time I could hear Aiken andthe others conversing together and caught the names of Laguerre andGarcia, but I was too sleepy to try to listen, and, as I said, Sagua didnot seem to me to be the place for conspiracies and revolutions. I leftit with real regret, and as though I were parting with friends of longacquaintanceship.
From the time we left Sagua the path began to ascend, and we rode insingle file along the edges of deep precipices. From the depths belowgiant ferns sent up cool, damp odors, and we could hear the splash andripple of running water, and at times, by looking into the valley, Icould see waterfalls and broad streams filled with rocks, which churnedthe water into a white foam. We passed under tall trees covered withwhite and purple flowers, and in the branches of others were perchedmacaws, giant parrots of the most wonderful red and blue and yellow, andjust at sunset we startled hundreds of parroquets which flew screamingand chattering about our heads, like so many balls of colored worsted.
When the moon rose, we rode out upon a table-land and passed betweenthick forests of enormous trees, the like of which I had never imagined.Their branches began at a great distance from the ground and werecovered thick with orchids, which I mistook for large birds roosting forthe night. Each tree was bound to the next by vines like tangled ropes,some drawn as taut as the halyards of a ship, and others, as thick asone's leg; they were twisted and wrapped around the branches, so thatthey looked like boa-constrictors hanging ready to drop upon one'sshoulders. The moonlight gave to this forest of great trees a weird,fantastic look. I felt like a knight entering an enchanted wood. Butnothing disturbed our silence except the sudden awakening of a greatbird or the stealthy rustle of an animal in the underbrush. Nearmidnight we rode into a grove of manacca palms as delicate as ferns, andeach as high as a three-story house, and with fronds so long that thosedrooping across the trail hid it completely. To push our way throughthese we had to use both arms as one lifts the curtains in a doorway.
{Illustration: I was sure life in Sagua la Grande would always suit me.}
Aiken himself seemed to feel the awe and beauty of the place, and calledthe direction to me in a whisper. Even that murmur was enough to carryabove the rustling of the palms, and startled hundreds of monkeys intowakefulness. We could hear their barks and cries echoing from every partof the forest, and as they sprang from one branch to another the palmsbent like trout-rods, and then swept back into place again with astrange swishing sound, like the rush of a great fish through water.
After midnight we were too stiff and sore to ride farther, and webivouacked on the trail beside a stream. I had no desire for furthersleep, and I sat at the foot of a tree smoking and thinking. I had often"camped out" as a boy, and at West Point with the battalion, but I hadnever before felt so far away from civilization and my own people. Forcompany I made a little fire and sat before it, going over in my mindwhat I had learned since I had set forth on my travels. I concluded thatso far I had gained much and lost much. What I had experienced of theocean while on the ship and what little I had seen of this countrydelighted me entirely, and I would not have parted with a single one ofmy new impressions. But all I had learned of the cause for which I hadcome to fight disappointed and disheartened me. Of course I had lefthome partly to seek adventure, but not only for that. I had set out onthis expedition with the idea that I was serving some good cause--thatold-fashioned principles were forcing these men to fight for theirindependence. But I had been early undeceived. At the same time thatI was enjoying my first sight of new and beautiful things I was beingrobbed of my illusions and my ideals. And nothing could make up to mefor that. By merely travelling on around the globe I would always besure to find some new things of interest. But what would that count if Ilost my faith in men! If I ceased to believe in their unselfishnessand honesty. Even though I were young and credulous, and lived ina make-believe world of my own imagining, I was happier so than inthinking that everyone worked for his own advantage, and without justiceto others, or private honor. It harmed no one that I believed betterof others than they deserv
ed, but it was going to hurt me terribly if Ilearned that their aims were even lower than my own. I knew it was Aikenwho had so discouraged me. It was he who had laughed at me for believingthat Laguerre and his men were fighting for liberty. If I were goingto credit him, there was not one honest man in Honduras, and no one oneither side of this revolution was fighting for anything but money. Hehad made it all seem commercial, sordid, and underhand. I blamed himfor having so shaken my faith and poisoned my mind. I scowled at hisunconscious figure as he lay sleeping peacefully on his blanket, and Iwished heartily that I had never set eyes on him. Then I argued that hisword, after all, was not final. He made no pretence of being a saint,and it was not unnatural that a man who held no high motives shouldfail to credit them to others. I had partially consoled myself withthis reflection, when I remembered suddenly that Beatrice herself hadforetold the exact condition which Aiken had described.
"That is not war," she had said to me, "that is speculation!" She surelyhad said that to me, but how could she have known, or was hers only arandom guess? And if she had guessed correctly what would she wish me todo now? Would she wish me to turn back, or, if my own motives were good,would she tell me to go on? She had called me her knight-errant, and Iowed it to her to do nothing of which she would disapprove. As I thoughtof her I felt a great loneliness and a longing to see her once again.I thought of how greatly she would have delighted in those days at sea,and how wonderful it would have been if I could have seen this hot,feverish country with her at my side. I pictured her at the inn at Saguasmiling on the priest and the fat little landlord; and their admirationof her. I imagined us riding together in the brilliant sunshine with thecrimson flowers meeting overhead, and the palms bowing to her and payingher homage. I lifted the locket she had wound around my wrist, andkissed it. As I did so, my doubts and questionings seemed to fall away.I stood up confident and determined. It was not my business to worryover the motives of other men, but to look to my own. I would go aheadand fight Alvarez, who Aiken himself declared was a thief and a tyrant.If anyone asked me my politics I would tell him I was for the side thatwould obtain the money the Isthmian Line had stolen, and give it tothe people; that I was for Garcia and Liberty, Laguerre and the ForeignLegion. This platform of principles seemed to me so satisfactory that Istretched my feet to the fire and went to sleep.
I was awakened by the most delicious odor of coffee, and when I rolledout of my blanket I found Jose standing over me with a cup of it in hishand, and Aiken buckling the straps of my saddle-girth. We took aplunge in the stream, and after a breakfast of coffee and cold tortillasclimbed into the saddle and again picked up the trail.
After riding for an hour Aiken warned me that at any moment we werelikely to come upon either Laguerre or the soldiers of Alvarez. "So youkeep your eyes and ears open," he said, "and when they challenge throwup your hands quick. The challenge is 'Halt, who lives,'" he explained."If it is a government soldier you must answer, 'The government.' But ifit's one of Laguerre's or Garcia's pickets you must say 'The revolutionlives.' And whatever else you do, _hold up your hands._"
I rehearsed this at once, challenging myself several times, and givingthe appropriate answers. The performance seemed to afford Aiken muchamusement.
"Isn't that right?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "but the joke is that you won't be able to tell which isthe government soldier and which is the revolutionist, and you'll givethe wrong answer, and we'll both get shot."
"I can tell by our uniform," I answered.
"Uniform!" exclaimed Aiken, and burst into the most uproarious laughter."Rags and tatters," he said.
I was considerably annoyed to learn by this that the revolutionary partyhad no distinctive uniform. The one worn by the government troops whichI had seen at the coast I had thought bad enough, but it was a greatdisappointment to hear that we had none at all. Ever since I had startedfrom Dobbs Ferry I had been wondering what was the Honduranianuniform. I had promised myself to have my photograph taken in it. Ihad anticipated the pride I should have in sending the picture back toBeatrice. So I was considerably chagrined, until I decided to inventa uniform of my own, which I would wear whether anyone else wore it ornot. This was even better than having to accept one which someone elsehad selected. As I had thought much on the subject of uniforms, I beganat once to design a becoming one.
We had reached a most difficult pass in the mountain, where the trailstumbled over broken masses of rock and through a thick tangle oflaurel. The walls of the pass were high and the trees at the top shutout the sunlight. It was damp and cold and dark.
"We're sure to strike something here," Aiken whispered over hisshoulder. It did not seem at all unlikely. The place was the mostexcellent man-trap, but as to that, the whole length of the trail hadlain through what nature had obviously arranged for a succession ofambushes.
Aiken turned in his saddle and said, in an anxious tone: "Do you know,the nearer I get to the old man, the more I think I was a fool to come.As long as I've got nothing but bad news, I'd better have stayed away.Do you remember Pharaoh and the messengers of ill tidings?"
I nodded, but I kept my eyes busy with the rocks and motionless laurel.My mule was slipping and kicking down pebbles, and making as much noiseas a gun battery. I knew, if there were any pickets about, they couldhear us coming for a quarter of a mile.
"Garcia may think he's Pharaoh," Aiken went on, "and take it into hishead it's my fault the guns didn't come. Laguerre may say I sold thesecret to the Isthmian Line."
"Oh, he couldn't think you'd do that!" I protested.
"Well, I've known it done," Aiken said. "Quay certainly sold us out atNew Orleans. And Laguerre may think I went shares with him."
I began to wonder if Aiken was not probably the very worst person Icould have selected to introduce me to General Laguerre. It seemed asthough it certainly would have been better had I found my way to himalone. I grew so uneasy concerning my possible reception that I said,irritably: "Doesn't the General know you well enough to trust you?"
"No, he doesn't!" Aiken snapped back, quite as irritably. "And he's deadright, too. You take it from me, that the fewer people in this countryyou trust, the better for you. Why, the rottenness of this country is aproverb. 'It's a place where the birds have no song, where the flowershave no odor, where the women are without virtue, and the men withouthonor.' That's what a gringo said of Honduras many years ago, and heknew the country and the people in it."
It was not a comforting picture, but in my discouragement I rememberedLaguerre.
"General Laguerre does not belong to this country," I said, hopefully.
"No," Aiken answered, with a laugh. "He's an Irish-Frenchman and belongsto a dozen countries. He's fought for every flag that floats, and he'sno better off to-day than when he began."
He turned toward me and stared with an amused and tolerant grin. "He's abit like you," he said.
I saw he did not consider what he said as a compliment, but I was vainenough to want to know what he did think of me, so I asked: "And in whatway am I like General Laguerre?"
The idea of our similarity seemed to amuse Aiken, for he continued togrin.
"Oh, you'll see when we meet him," he said. "I can't explain it. Youtwo are just different from other people--that's all. He's old-fashionedlike you, if you know what I mean, and young--"
"Why, he's an old man," I corrected.
"He's old enough to be your grandfather," Aiken laughed, "but I say he'syoung--like you, the way you are."
Aiken knew that it annoyed me when he pretended I was so much youngerthan himself, and I had started on some angry reply, when I was abruptlyinterrupted.
A tall, ragged man rose suddenly from behind a rock, and presented arifle. He was so close to Aiken that the rifle almost struck him in theface. Aiken threw up his hands, and fell back with such a jerk that helost his balance, and would have fallen had he not pitched forward andclasped the mule around the neck. I pulled my mule to a halt, and heldmy hands as high as I
could raise them. The man moved his rifle fromside to side so as to cover each of us in turn, and cried in English,"Halt! Who goes there?"
Aiken had not told me the answer to that challenge, so I kept silent. Icould hear Jose behind me interrupting his prayers with little sobs offright.
Aiken scrambled back into an upright position, held up his hands,and cried: "Confound you, we are travellers, going to the capital onbusiness. Who the devil are you?"
"Qui vive?" the man demanded over the barrel of his gun.
"What does that mean?" Aiken cried, petulantly. "Talk English, can'tyou, and put down that gun."
The man ceased moving the rifle between us, and settled it on Aiken.
"Cry 'Long live the government,'" he commanded, sharply.
Aiken gave a sudden start of surprise, and I saw his eyelids drop andrise again. Later when I grew to know him intimately, I could alwaystell when he was lying, or making the winning move in some bit ofknavery, by that nervous trick of the eyelids. He knew that I knew aboutit, and he once confided to me that, had he been able to overcome it, hewould have saved himself some thousands of dollars which it had cost himat cards.
But except for this drooping of the eyelids he gave no sign.
"No, I won't cry 'Long live the government,'" he answered. "That is," headded hastily, "I won't cry long live anything. I'm the American Consul,and I'm up here on business. So's my friend."
The man did not move his gun by so much as a straw's breadth.
"You will cry 'Long live Alvarez' or I will shoot you," said the man.
I had more leisure to observe the man than had Aiken, for it isdifficult to study the features of anyone when he is looking at you downa gun-barrel, and it seemed to me that the muscles of the man's mouth ashe pressed it against the stock were twitching with a smile. As the sideof his face toward me was the one farther from the gun, I was able tosee this, but Aiken could not, and he answered, still more angrily: "Itell you, I'm the American Consul. Anyway, it's not going to do you anygood to shoot me. You take me to your colonel alive, and I'll give youtwo hundred dollars. You shoot me and you won't get a cent."
The moment was serious enough, and I was thoroughly concerned both forAiken and myself, but when he made this offer, my nervousness, or mysense of humor, got the upper hand of me, and I laughed.
Having laughed I made the best of it, and said:
"Offer him five hundred for the two of us. Hang the expense."
The rifle wavered in the man's hands, he steadied it, scowled at me, bithis lips, and then burst into shouts of laughter. He sank back againstone of the rocks, and pointed at Aiken mockingly.
"I knew it was you all the time," he cried, "for certain I did. I knewit was you all the time."
I was greatly relieved, but naturally deeply indignant. I felt as thoughsomeone had jumped from behind a door, and shouted "Boo!" at me. I hopedin my heart that the colonel would give the fellow eight hours' packdrill. "What a remarkable sentry," I said.
Aiken shoved his hands into his breeches pockets, and surveyed the manwith an expression of the most violent disgust.
"You've got a damned queer idea of a joke," he said finally. "I mighthave shot you!"
The man seemed to consider this the very acme of humor, for he fairlyhooted at us. He was so much amused that it was some moments before hecould control himself.
"I saw you at Porto Cortez," he said, "I knew you was the AmericanConsul all the time. You came to our camp after the fight, and theGeneral gave you a long talk in his tent. Don't you remember me? I wasstanding guard outside."
Aiken snorted indignantly.
"No, I don't remember you," he said. "But I'll remember you next time.Are you standing guard now, or just doing a little highway robbery onyour own account?"
"Oh, I'm standing guard for keeps," said the sentry, earnestly. "Ourcamp's only two hundred yards back of me. And our Captain told me to letall parties pass except the enemy, but I thought I'd have to jump youjust for fun. I'm an American myself, you see, from Kansas. An' beingan American I had to give the American Consul a scare. But say,"he exclaimed, advancing enthusiastically on Aiken, with his handoutstretched, "you didn't scare for a cent." He shook hands violentlywith each of us in turn. "My name's Pete MacGraw," he added,expectantly.
"Well, now, Mr. MacGraw," said Aiken, "if you'll kindly guide us toGeneral Laguerre we'll use our influence to have you promoted. You needmore room. I imagine a soldier with your original ideas must find sentryduty go very dull."
MacGraw grinned appreciatively and winked.
"If I take you to my General alive, do I get that two hundred dollars?"he asked. He rounded off his question with another yell of laughter.
He was such a harmless idiot that we laughed with him. But we weresilenced at once by a shout from above us, and a command to "Stopthat noise." I looked up and saw a man in semi-uniform and wearing anofficer's sash and sword stepping from one rock to another and breakinghis way through the laurel. He greeted Aiken with a curt wave of thehand. "Glad to see you, Consul," he called. "You will dismount, please,and lead your horses this way." He looked at me suspiciously and thenturned and disappeared into the undergrowth.
"The General is expecting you, Aiken," his voice called back to us. "Ihope everything is all right?"
Aiken and I had started to draw the mules up the hill. Already both theofficer and the trail had been completely hidden by the laurel.
"No, nothing is all right," Aiken growled.
There was the sound of an oath, the laurels parted, and the officer'sface reappeared, glaring at us angrily.
"What do you mean?" he demanded. "My information is for GeneralLaguerre," Aiken answered, sulkily.
The man sprang away again muttering to himself, and we scrambled andstumbled after him, guided by the sounds of breaking branches androlling stones.
From a glance I caught of Aiken's face I knew he was regretting now,with even more reason than before, that he had not remained at thecoast, and I felt very sorry for him. Now that he was in trouble and notpatronizing me and poking fun at me, I experienced a strong change offeeling toward him. He was the only friend I had in Honduras, and asbetween him and these strangers who had received us so oddly, I feltthat, although it would be to my advantage to be friends with thegreater number, my loyalty was owing to Aiken. So I scrambled up besidehim and panted out with some difficulty, for the ascent was a steep one:"If there is any row, I'm with _you_, Aiken."
"Oh, there won't be any row," he growled.
"Well, if there is," I repeated, "you can count me in."
"That's all right," he said.
At that moment we reached the top of the incline, and I looked down intothe hollow below. To my surprise I found that this side of the hill wasquite barren of laurel or of any undergrowth, and that it sloped to alittle open space carpeted with high, waving grass, and cut in half bya narrow stream. On one side of the stream a great herd of mules andhorses were tethered, and on the side nearer us were many smokingcamp-fires and rough shelters made from the branches of trees. Men weresleeping in the grass or sitting in the shade of the shelters, cleaningaccoutrements, and some were washing clothes in the stream. At the footof the hill was a tent, and ranged before it two Gatling gunsstrapped in their canvas jackets. I saw that I had at last reachedmy destination. This was the camp of the filibusters. These were thesoldiers of Laguerre's Foreign Legion.
Captain Macklin: His Memoirs Page 5