by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
MUSQUITOES AND THEIR ANTIDOTE.
Our next day's journey brought us again into heavy timber--another creekbottom. The soil was rich and loamy, and the road we travelled wasmoist, and in some places very heavy for our waggon. Several times thelatter got stalled in the mud, and then the whole party were obliged todismount, and put their shoulders to the wheel. Our progress was markedby some noise and confusion, and the constant din made by Jake talkingto his team, his loud sonorous "woha!" as they were obliged to halt, andthe lively "gee-up--gee-up" as they moved on again--frighted any gamelong before we could come up with it. Of course we were compelled tokeep by the waggon until we had made the passage of the miry flat.
We were dreadfully annoyed by the mosquitoes, particularly the doctor,of whose blood they seemed to be especially fond! This is a curiousfact in relation to the mosquitoes--of two persons sleeping in the sameapartment, one will sometimes be bitten or rather punctured, and halfbled to death, while the other remains untouched! Is it the quality ofthe blood or the thickness of the skin that guides to this preference?
This point was discussed amongst us--the doctor taking the view that itwas always a sign of good blood when one was more than usually subjectto the attack of mosquitoes. He was himself an apt illustration of thefact. This statement of course produced a general laugh, and someremarks at the doctor's expense, on the part of the opponents of histheory. Strange to say, old Ike was fiercely assailed by the littleblood-suckers. This seemed to be an argument against the doctor'stheory, for in the tough skinny carcass of the old trapper, the bloodcould neither have been very plenteous nor delicate.
Most of us smoked as we rode along, hoping by that means to drive offthe ferocious swarm, but although tobacco smoke is disagreeable to themosquitoes, they cannot be wholly got rid of by a pipe or cigar. Couldone keep a constant _nimbus_ of the smoke around his face it might beeffective, but not otherwise. A sufficient quantity of tobacco smokewill kill mosquitoes outright, as I have more than once proved by athorough fumigation of my sleeping apartment.
These insects are not peculiar, as sometimes supposed, to theinter-tropical regions of America. They are found in great numbers evento the shores of the Arctic Sea, and as fierce and bloodthirsty asanywhere else--of course only in the summer season, when, as beforeremarked, the thermometer in these Northern latitudes mounts to a highfigure. Their haunts are the banks of rivers, and particularly those ofa stagnant and muddy character.
There is another singular fact in regard to them. Upon the banks ofsome of the South-American rivers, life is almost unendurable on accountof this pest--the "_plaga de mosquitos_," as the Spaniards term it--while upon other streams in the very same latitude musquitoes areunknown. These streams are what are termed "_rios negros_," orblack-water rivers--a peculiar class of rivers, to which manytributaries of the Amazon and Orinoco belong.
Our English comrade, who had travelled all over South America, gave usthis information as we rode along. He stated, that he had oftenconsidered it a great relief, a sort of escape from purgatory, while onhis travels he parted from one of the yellow or white water streams, toenter one of the "_rios negros_." Many Indian tribes settled upon thebanks of the latter solely to get clear of the "_plaga de mosquitos_."The Indians who reside in the mosquito districts habitually paint theirbodies, and smear themselves with oil, as a protection against theirbites; and it is a common thing among the natives, when speaking of anyplace, to inquire into the "character" of its mosquitoes!
On some tributaries of the Amazon the mosquitoes are really a lifetorment, and the wretched creatures who inhabit such places frequentlybury their bodies in the sand in order to get sleep! Even the pigmentswith which they anoint themselves are pierced by the poisoned bills oftheir tormentors.
Besancon and the Kentuckian both denied that any species of ointmentwould serve as a protection against mosquitoes. The doctor joined themin their denial. They asserted that they had tried everything thatcould be thought of--camphor, ether, hartshorn, spirits of turpentine,etcetera.
Some of us were of a different opinion, and Ike settled the point soonafter in favour of the dissentients by a practical illustration. Theold trapper, as before stated, was a victim to the fiercest attacks, aswas manifested by the slapping which he repeatedly administered to hischeeks, and an almost constant muttering of bitter imprecations. Heknew a remedy he said in a "sartint weed," if he could only "lay hisclaws upon it." We noticed that from time to time as he rode along hiseyes swept the ground in every direction. At length a joyousexclamation told that he had discovered the "weed."
"Thur's the darned thing at last," muttered he, as he flung himself tothe ground, and commenced gathering the stalks of a small herb that grewplentifully about. It was an annual, with leaves very much of the sizeand shape of young garden box-wood, but of a much brighter green. Ofcourse we all knew well enough what it was, for there is not a village"common" in the Western United States that is not covered with it. Itwas the well-known "penny-royal" (_Hedcoma pulegioides_), not theEnglish herb of that name, which is a species of _mentha_.
Redwood also leaped from his horse, and set to plucking the "weed." Hetoo, from experience, knew its virtues.
We all drew bridle, watching the guides. Both operated in a similarmanner. Having collected a handful of the tenderest tops, they rubbedthem violently between their palms--rough and good for such service--andthen passed the latter over the exposed skin of their necks and laces.Ike took two small bunches of the stalks, crushed them under his heel,and then stuck them beneath his cap, so that the ends hung down over hischeeks. This being done, he and his comrade mounted their horses androde on.
Some of us--the hunter-naturalist, the Englishman, and myself--dismounted and imitated Ike--of course under a volley of laughter and"pooh-poohs" from Besancon, the Kentuckian, and the doctor; but we hadnot ridden two hundred paces until the joke changed sides. From thatmoment not a mosquito approached us, while our three friends were bittenas badly as ever.
In the end they were convinced, and the torment of the mosquitoesproving stronger than the fear of our ridicule, all three sprang out oftheir saddles, and made a rush at the next bed of penny-royal that camein sight.
Whether it is the highly aromatic odour of the penny-royal that keepsoff these insects, or whether the juice when touched by them burns thedelicate nerves of their feet I am unable to say. Certain it is theywill not alight upon the skin which has been plentifully anointed withit. I have tried the same experiment often since that time with asimilar result, and in fact have never since travelled through amosquito country without a provision of the "essence of penny-royal."This is better than the herb itself, and can be obtained from anyapothecary. A single drop or two spilled in the palm of the hand issufficient to rub over all the parts exposed, and will often ensuresleep, where otherwise such a thing would be impossible. I have oftenlain with my face so smeared, and listened to the sharp hum of themosquito as it approached, fancying that the next moment I should feelits tiny touch, as it settled down upon my cheek, or brow. As soon,however, as it came within the influence of the penny-royal I could hearit suddenly tack round and wing its way off again, until itsdisagreeable "music" was no longer heard.
The only drawback in the use of the penny-royal lies in the burningsensation which the fluid produces upon the skin; and this in a climatewhere the thermometer is pointing to 90 degrees is no slightdisqualification of the remedy. The use of it is sometimes littlebetter than "Hobbson's choice."
The application of it on the occasion mentioned restored the spirits ofour party, which had been somewhat kept under by the continuous attacksof the mosquitoes, and a lively little incident that occurred soonafter, viz. the hunt and capture of a raccoon, made us all quite merry.
Cooney, though a night prowler, is sometimes abroad during the day, butespecially in situations where the timber is high, and the woods darkand gloomy. On the march we had come so sudde
nly upon this one, that hehad not time to strike out for his own tree, where he would soon havehidden from us in its deep cavity. He had been too busy with his ownaffairs--the nest of a wild turkey upon the ground, under some brush andleaves, the broken eggs in which told of the delicious meal he had made.Taken by surprise--for the guides had ridden nearly on top of him--hegalloped up the nearest tree, which fortunately contained neither forknor cavity in which he could shelter himself; and a well-directed shotfrom Redwood's rifle brought him with a heavy "thump" back to the groundagain.
We were all stirred up a little by this incident; in fact, the unusualabsence of game rendered ever so trifling an occurrence an "event" withus. No one, however, was so pleased as the black waggoner Jake, whoseeyes fairly danced in his head at the sight of a "coon." The "coon" toJake was well-known game--natural and legitimate--and Jake preferred"roast coon" to fried bacon at any time. Jake knew that none of uswould care to eat of his coonship. He was therefore sure of his supper;and the "varmint" was carefully deposited in the corner of the waggon.
Jake did not have it all to himself. The trappers liked fresh meat too,even "coon-meat;" and of course claimed their share. None of the restof the party had any relish for such a fox-like carcass.
After supper, cooney was honoured with a description, and for many ofthe facts of his history we are indebted to Jake himself.
