Tell us more about this place Honduras,' said Tommy. All I know is I once had a Honduras postage stamp.'
Not now,' protested Digger.
There'll be
plenty of time on the way. Let's get down to brass tacks. Are you all agreed that you want to go with me to look for this lost gold mine ? '
There was a chorus of assent.
You know what you're letting yourselves in for ? '
Pompey grinned. Fever, starvation, and poisoned arrows.'
Digger shrugged. They may come into it, but I'm not thinking so much of the possible dangers as the certain discomforts.'
If it was too cushy I wouldn't want to go,' declared Batty.
You may change your mind about that,' stated Digger. There's an old saying that every man
who goes into the jungle starts thinking of how soon he can get out of it.'
'I've heard that one,' asserted Pompey. Let's finish it. And as soon as he's out of it he starts planning to go back—which is just what you're a'doing of now.'
Digger smiled wanly. Okay. You win. But it isn't the big things that can make life a misery. There are a thousand insects, and they all sting or bite. Cover yourself at night and you sweat to death. Uncover yourself and you can be bitten to death, or bled by vampire bats. Jump into the river to cool off and you may land on an anaconda, a sting ray, or an electric eel, but they won't make a skeleton of you as fast as a shoal of piranhas, which are only a few inches long. Do you still want to go ? '
Yes.'
All right,' concluded Digger. There's a banana boat leaving for Jamaica on Saturday. In Jamaica we'll look for a launch to take us across the Caribbean to Honduras. I'd rather do it that way than make inquiries about a boat at Belize, which may start rumours of treasure hunting or a smuggling racket. The more quietly we can slip away the better, so no more babbling about gold. That's enough for tonight. I'll see about paying the bill.'
CHAPTER 2
THRESHOLD OF ADVENTURE
THE swampy delta of the tropic river lay placid under a crimson sun which, its daily task almost complete, was dropping swiftly behind the forest-girt horizon that fringed the western sky. There was still a little movement, for such waters, although they may fall quiet with the passing of the day, are never lifeless.
On the Honduras side of the main channel, up which a motor launch with a canoe in tow was chugging, a grove of coconut palms whispered as their fronds were caressed by the dying day-breeze. Near the bank a colony of snow-white birds stood knee-deep in the tawny water. On the other, the Mexican side, parades of crested egrets lined the several watercourses that crawled through a patchwork of jungle and morass. From the trees came the harsh cries of parrots. Brilliant butterflies of shimmering blue fluttered aimlessly from side to side.
Behind the launch lay the Sahumal Lagoon, spreading in an ever-widening expanse to the Caribbean Sea. Ahead, as far as Tommy was concerned, lay the unknown ; at least, he liked to think it was unknown. That it was not unknown to Digger was revealed when, pointing to a village some distance away on the Mexican side, he was able to announce that its name was Sac Xas, in the province of Yucatan.
There were five persons on the launch, the company of adventurers having had their number increased by one, a Negro who could boast the curious name of Sunshine Bright, which for ordinary purposes automatically became Sunny. The name was at least in accord with his character, for his habitual expression was a broad smile, showing a mouth well filled with teeth of startling whiteness. A man of considerable physical strength, he had formed one of Digger's crew on a previous expedition. They had met by accident in Belize, and recalling that the black had proved a willing worker Digger had taken him on as a crew-man likely to be useful, for he knew the river and most of those who travelled regularly on it. He had provided the information that two expeditions were already up the river.
One was an official party of American archaeologists, with a permit to excavate in Mexican territory. The other comprised two white—or nearly white—
men, in a canoe with a native crew. What they were doing Sunny didn't know. There had been some secrecy about their movements.
Five weeks had passed since the dinner party in London, and the general plan had proceeded without a hitch. From a variety of small craft at Jamaica Digger had chosen a small but seaworthy motor-launch named Sprite, which, he stated, was ideal for their purpose. It should, he thought, take them as far as the waterfall of which he had been told.
Beyond that they would have to use a canoe.
Perfect weather had enabled them to cross the Caribbean to Belize in comfort. There, stores had been laid in, and a canoe, designed for river travel, bought. It was a native-built craft, with a shelter from sun and rain amidships, and thin timber tacked along the sides to give it a few more inches of freeboard. Such a conveyance, said Digger, would stand more knocking about, in the conditions that were to be expected, than the flimsy canoes designed for home waters.
All these arrangements had of course been left to Digger in view of his experience. He chose the stores with great care, pointing out that as it would be impossible to buy food on the river, all they were likely to require would have to be taken with them. Biscuits, rice, bully beef, and tea formed the bulk, but a few luxuries such as jam and pickles were included. They might, if they were lucky, augment the food supply with the rifle, deer and peccary being fairly common ; but this was not to be relied on.
In the matter of weapons Tommy was surprised and a little disappointed, for he had supposed that such an expedition would be heavily armed. But Digger said that a rifle for hunting for food, a small-bore collector's gun for rare specimens, and one pistol for emergencies, would be ample.
He told Tommy he could take an automatic if he liked, but advised against it, saying it was unlikely he would ever need it, and he would soon tire of carrying the extra weight in his pocket.
In short, now that the expedition was fairly launched, Digger proved to be a mine of information. It was not by accident, the others discovered, that the trip had started in January, for in Central America that is the beginning of the dry season, the best time of the year for bush travel.
The main facts about the country of their choice Tommy had learned on the way over.
He knew that British Honduras is a Crown Colony on the Caribbean Sea, bordered by Mexico and Guatemala. It is not very big, comprising less than nine thousand square miles, more than half of which is still covered with primeval forest. The re mainder is mostly savannah, open grassy plain with occasional trees. The ground rises as one travels inland from the coast, reaching a maximum height of four thousand feet in the Cockscomb Mountains. Only about sixty thousand acres are under cultivation, the chief crops being rubber, sugar, cacao, bananas, pineapples, citrus fruits, and coconuts. With the price of coconuts down and a tree yielding only about eighty nuts a year, they were hardly worth the trouble of collecting, said Digger.
The capital of the colony is Belize, the seat of the Governor and his Administrative Council.
Digger had told them that for many years there had been trouble with Guatemala, which claimed the territory. The result was constant friction on the frontier, as was the case with most South American states, one reason for this being the impossibility of defining frontiers clearly in forest and jungle. That, said Digger, was about all, except that the whole country was littered with the ruins of towns, temples, pyramids, and other relics of the great Maya civilisation. They would, he assured them, see some of these remains as they went up the river.
Digger now announced that he could see the spot for which he had been making, a place where the water ran slowly and fairly deep against the bank, providing a good mooring.
He had used
the place before, having had it shown to him by his native crew.
'We should just make it and get the tent up before dark,' he averred, turning the nose of the launch towards the camping ground.
To Tommy the site r
evealed nothing to arouse enthusiasm. It was, in fact, a dreary-looking place, a few acres of flat, fairly open ground, dotted with an occasional tree and backed by scrub. Behind this rose the forest proper. As they drew near it seemed to Tommy that most of the trees were dead, or nearly so, and he made a remark to this effect.
They're sapodillas,' stated Digger, as if that in itself should be sufficient explanation.
'Why do they die ? ' questioned Tommy.
Pompey grinned. 'I was waitin' for that.'
Digger sighed. The sapodilla is the tree from which chicle is derived, and chicle is—or was—the basic ingredient of chewing gum. Cut the tree and it yields a latex ', a milky sap, like rubber. If the tree is cut too often it bleeds to death. That's what's happened to the trees you see here, and to most trees near the coast. They're the easiest to get at.
Don't blame the chicleros. Their job is a hard one. We may be glad there are such men before this trip's over.'
Why ? '
Because they're the fellers we have to thank for making paths through the jungle. As the easy trees become exhausted they push farther and farther in to find fresh ones ; so if you strike a path you may be sure it was cut by a chiclero. No-one else would do it. It's a queer thought that if gum-chewing hadn't become a habit there would have been no chicle collectors ; and had there been no chicleros the great ruined cities in the jungles wouldn't have been discovered. They were the chaps who brought back the news. I used to collect the stuff myself; it helped to pay expenses. But now that a synthetic substitute for chicle has been discovered that line of business is about finished. The chicleros will die out ; so, thanks to the chemists, the jungle paths will become overgrown and disappear like the men who made them. Native rubber collecting will end the same way.'
Is there wild rubber here ? '
Hundreds of trees and plants produce a latex, and there are several sorts of rubber-producing trees in Central and South America. The old Mayas, and the Aztecs of Mexico, knew all about the bouncing qualities of the stuff. They were playing games with rubber balls a thousand years before rubber was known in Europe. They played a game, with a solid ball, rather like rugby. You can see the ruins of one of their courts a little higher up the river. They played between walls about twelve feet high, and the goal was a stone ring jutting out from the middle of each wall. They used to bet on the result too. There's nothing new about football—or football pools.'
'Why do trees produce latex ? ' asked Tommy.
For the same reason that you produce blood.
In the jungle it's war to the death between everything, and that includes the vegetable life. Everything fights to reach the sunlight. Cut yourself. You bleed. The blood congeals and closes the wound. If a tree is injured it closes the wound in the same way. A sapodilla will lose about four pounds weight of sap in closing the cut made by the chiclero.
But you can't do that too often or you'll kill the tree. Remember, it isn't only men who do the damage. Insects are for ever boring holes, and birds dig out the insects.'
'What beats me,' put in Batty, 'is how you know all this.'
'I've told you before, the modern explorer has to know about plants as well as metals. If he doesn't-well, he's likely to have a thin time.
Don't forget that trees and plants, as well as animals, insects, and reptiles, have developed their own methods of defence. Thorns and poison are the most common. I'll point out the first man chineel tree we see.
It's deadly. One spot of sap in your eye and you're blind. The natives say the smoke of a manchineel fire will blind you if you sit in it. I don't know about that. I've never tried it.
But I've seen plenty of Indians who have been blinded by the stuff.'
I've heard of trees poisoning people who sleep under 'em,' said Pompey.
Is there any truth in that ? '
I don't know. The upas tree of Madagascar has that reputation. It's certainly poisonous, and that goes for a lot of tropical trees. The upas probably got its reputation from the carbonic acid gas which in Madagascar rises from certain volcanic valleys. That '11 kill anything.
There used to be talk of man-eating trees. I can show you plenty of carnivorous flowers, some of them strong enough to hold large insects, and, according to the natives, small humming birds. But I can't imagine anything strong enough to hold a man, and I believe it's now generally accepted that no such plant exists.'
It's jolly decent of you to answer all these questions,' said Tommy gratefully.
If you're really going to be an explorer I'll do my best to help,'
answered Digger. He smiled.
After all, it's in all our interests that the party should keep fit and well. It's easy to make mistakes in this sort of country. But here we are.'
Digger brought the launch alongside the bank. Pompey and Sunny jumped ashore and made fast. The tent was handed out and the work of erecting it began in haste, for the brief tropical twilight was fast giving way to night, and they were already being assaulted by myriads of insects.
Digger examined the ground closely inside and outside the tent.
'What are you looking for—snakes ? ' inquired Tommy.
Not in particular,' replied Digger.
'But there are snakes ? '
Of course. But not so many that you need to worry about them. The one most common here is the woula-that's its local name. It's a fairly big one—ten or twelve feet long. But it isn't poisonous, being a constrictor.
You'll see anacondas, too, before we get back, no doubt. They're not bad either. The bushmaster is the really deadly one. Actually, I'm more concerned with scorpions. They grow to a fair size here—five or six inches long.
They sit under a stone or a piece of wood, and you only know about it if you happen to pick it up. I was once stung by one, and I don't want it to happen again. I was in agony for three days.'
Is that why you insisted that we all sleep in hammocks ? ' asked Batty.
One reason. Everyone in this part of the world sleeps in a hammock. In fact, hammock is the native word. We borrowed it, and a lot of other words too. Canoe, moccasin, potato, coyote, banana. Even chocolate, which here, originally, was chocolatl.'
Aw shucks ! Why use native words,' snorted Pompey.
What other names were the early explorers to use when they came upon things hitherto unknown to them ? Naturally, having no word of their own they used the native name, and took it home with them. It didn't always happen. Take pineapple, for instance. Most countries in Europe took the native name, ananas ; but apparently an Englishman decided to coin his own word and produced pineapple, having supposed that an apple would look like that if it grew on a pine tree. And talking of pineapples reminds me. Don'
t try to eat one unless it's quite ripe. A freshly cut green pineapple—
and you may find some—can be a nasty thing.'
You mean-it's poisonous ? ' questioned Tommy.
Not actually poisonous. But it's acid, and will give you a sore mouth.
That can be uncomfortable, but the danger of a raw mouth in these parts is it provides a front door for germs and bacteria to get into your system. I can't think of everything at once, but I'll give you tips of that sort as we go along.'
'One more question,' pleaded Tommy. After all, someone had to tell you all the things you know.'
True, but that didn't happen in five minutes, or five years, if it comes to that,' retorted Digger.
When you've travelled as long and as far as I have, if you keep your eyes and ears open you should know what I know—maybe more. Now, what's the question ? '
What in your opinion is the most dangerous animal we're likely to meet ?
Digger considered the matter. Some people might say the tiger, which in this part of the world is what we would call a jaguar. But I'd say the peccary, which as you probably know is a small bad-tempered wild pig. The tiger travels alone, but peccaries move in gangs of hundreds, and they'll attack a man merely because he happens to be in the way
.
The beast isn't very big—say, two to three feet long—but he has a formidable pair of tusks that point straight down, which he uses to tear up roots—or rip the entrails out of a jaguar if he tries any funny stuff.
Fortunately he stinks like nothing on earth, and if the wind is right you can smell one of these herds a mile away, which gives you a chance to get clear. But your chances of being killed by a peccary are less than having a tree, or a bunch of nuts, fall on your head. There's always a risk of that. Now, a little less talking while we have supper.'
The meal over, Tommy went outside to stretch his legs before turning in.
In front of him lay the river, the heavens mirrored in its black surface.
From all around came strange sounds to remind him of where he was, and that the jungle never really rests. Bats wheeled. Frogs croaked.
Woodpeckers hammered on the dying trees. A monkey chattered. Crickets chirped, and would, he was to learn, continue their monotonous song until sunrise.
Unfamiliar smells reached his nostrils. One had a wonderful fragrancy and, as a smell sometimes will, reminded him vaguely of something.
He turned back into the tent thrilled and happy, although perhaps a little apprehensive.
This, he mused, was the beginning of a real adventure, the sort he had so often visualised. Whether or not they found gold was unimportant. The going might be hard, but it was better than walking on pavements. When he went in he asked Digger what it was that had such a fascinating smell.
Probably vanilla,' answered Digger. He smiled. Here you get not only the base of chewing gum, but one of the flavourings.'
'Is it a flower ? '
More or less. Actually it's an orchid which grows on a vine thirty or forty feet high. The useful part, the article of commerce, is the seed pod. As it grows on the top, and the monkeys love it, it isn't easy to find a quantity growing wild. The seed pod is shaped like a sword scabbard. The Spanish for scabbard is vaina, so they called the new plant vainilla—meaning little scabbard.'
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