VIII
A RIVER INTERLUDE
On the deck of the wheezy, palpitating river steamer, "Barcelona,"toiling slowly up the turbid waters of the Magdalena, sat the usualthrong of passengers who are compelled to sacrifice two weeks of theirlives every time they travel from the seacoast to Colombia's mountaincapital. Fortunate such travelers count themselves if their lumbering,flat-bottomed craft, its huge stern wheel lifted high above thedown-rushing eddies and whirlpools, escapes the treacherous mudbankswhich form and dissolve in this ever-shifting, shallow current, andwhich not infrequently elude the vigilance of the navigator.
On this particular voyage, however, it is pleasant to record that the"Barcelona," in spite of various temptations to the contrary, hadbehaved in a most decorous manner, diplomatically avoiding the aforesaidmudbanks, submerged treetrunks and the like and giving promise of anearly arrival at her destination in the Upper Magdalena.
In any part of the world except Colombia the progress of this steamer upthe river on this occasion would have been followed with the liveliestinterest from one end of the country to the other. News bulletins wouldhave chronicled every detail of her voyage; there would have beeneditorial speculation as to the possible delays she might encounter;predictions of the outcome of her snail-paced journey and, finally,statements--bogus or otherwise--would have come every now and thenfrom the important personage who headed the list of the "Barcelona's"passengers. For there was an unhappily important personage on board--apersonage who, much to his own amazement, had helped in the making ofhistory, and who was now on his way to report to the President of theRepublic the details of what he had done.
Some men, according to one familiar with the accidents common tohumanity, have greatness thrust upon them. General Herran was neitherborn great, nor had he, of his own free will, achieved greatness. But ithad been thrust upon him. Without thought or act of his own he awoke onemorning to find himself famous. It was an unenviable kind of fame, wonin an opera-bouffe sort of way, and might, in some countries, have costthe general his head. But in Colombia there was, happily, no danger ofthis. Having lost his head once why should he lose it a second time, andjust because he had fallen a victim to the wiles of the Panamanians?
Here is the brief but important chapter of history in which GeneralHerran played a leading part. In the performance of his duty to quellany and every uprising which might occur on the Colombian coast he hadgone with his army to the Isthmus, where, he had been told, somethinglike a revolution was in progress. At Colon he had been courteously meton shipboard by representatives of this revolution. On their friendlyinvitation, and without disembarking his troops, he and his staff ofofficers had then been escorted politely across the Isthmus to Panamawhere, much to their astonishment, they were promptly lodged in jail--aclimax which any one but this unsuspecting general might have foreseen.During his absence his troops were sent back by the revolutionists toColombia--and thus, without the firing of a shot, the Republic of Panamaachieved its independence.
On board the "Barcelona," freed from the problem of keeping theIsthmians within the Colombian Union, General Herran gave no evidenceof any disastrous effect on his own fortunes following his memorableexperience of Panama diplomacy. The center of a convivial group ofadmiring friends, flanked by an inexhaustible supply of "La CosaSabrosa,"--the suggestive title given by one enthusiast to the nativerum which accompanied them in an endless array of demijohns--thisexcellent leader of armies appeared to be making a triumphal progresshomeward, rather than a decidedly ignominious retreat. His largemirthful brown eyes, peering out of a boyish face fringed by a heavyblack beard, were undimmed by regrets and gave no token of the wily,self-seeking politician their possessor was said, by his enemies, to be."El General," as he was usually called, was, in fact, the best of goodfellows; one who, we can well imagine, might easily forget so paltry anadjunct as his troops, lured by the promise of a lively hour or so ina gay city with congenial companions. "Bobo" his detractors might callhim, or "tonto"--but never "pendejo" nor "traidor."
With General Herran on board the "Barcelona," although not exactly ofhis party, and certainly not in the least of the military persuasion,was a round-paunched, bullet-headed little man who, arrayed in theflimsiest of apparel, a wide-flapping Panama sombrero coming down tohis ears, paced restlessly about the deck, fanning himself vigorouslywith a huge palm-leaf fan. Although of pure Spanish lineage, there wasnothing of the traditional polish of his race in this explosive person'smanner or speech. He had rolled about--one can hardly describe hismode of travel by another phrase--among many people and had recentlysettled down in a delightfully fever-ridden section of Colombia topractice medicine. "Doctor Quinine" he was called--behind his back--andit is said that he had simplified the methods of his profession byadministering, on all occasions and for all diseases, the one simple,famous drug, discovered centuries ago by his ancestors in his nativePeru. Quinine and a few drastic purgatives summed up his medical creed.If these remedies failed to cure--and they sometimes did fail--why, theunfortunate victim was simply a "canaille," and had, through his ownstupidity, or malice, defeated the otherwise infallible result of thedoctor's treatment.
The quininizing of the human race, however, was not the mission uponwhich Dr. Manuel Valiente Miranda had at present embarked. He hadrecently made a journey to the United States, whither he had goneto take out a patent on some marvelous "pildoras de quinina" of hisown concoction. Having succeeded in the main object of his trip, andhaving failed incidentally to sell a single box of these same patented"pildoras" to any one of the benighted thousands whose faith was pinnedto the ordinary medical practitioner, he had resolved to return to hisold occupation of dosing with quinine the faithful on the Colombiancoast. On his homeward journey, however, he met a party of Americanswho induced him to abandon for a time his original project and to jointhem in a trip to Bogota. As he was a man of independent means, apolitical exile from his native land, with no family ties whatsoever,there was nothing to hinder this sudden change in his plans. Hence hispresence on the "Barcelona," where he had assumed guardianship over hisAmerican friends--whom he abused on occasion, as was his wont with thosehe liked--and where he engaged in sarcastic tilts with his old ally "ElGeneral."
In the political upheaval caused by the secession of Panama DoctorMiranda took especial delight; nor did he hesitate to upbraid thosein authority for what he called their lack of gumption in the presentsituation. He predicted, moreover, the coming supremacy of "los Yankees"in South America. In all of this Doctor Miranda was good naturedlytolerated by his Colombian friends, who suffered his sarcasm much asthey did his quinine, ignoring the bitterness out of regard for thecurative virtue behind it.
Harold and Una Leighton, David Meudon, Andrew Parmelee and Mrs. Quaylewere the Americans to whom Doctor Miranda had attached himself onthis pilgrimage to Bogota. It was an oddly assorted party. That thepersons composing it should be voyaging together up the Magdalena,with an eccentric Peruvian physician as a sort of cicerone, and infriendly intimacy with a group of discredited army officers accused ofa traitorous abandonment of the national cause, formed one of thosecurious situations not unusual in South American travel.
The reader has already learned of the decision reached by HaroldLeighton and David to visit Bogota in order to solve there the mysteryof the three months following the dynamite explosion in the Guatavitatunnel. As her uncle had foreseen, Una insisted on going with them, andhad brought Mrs. Quayle along besides. There was no particular reasonwhy that estimable lady should accompany them. She had rarely venturedbeyond the borders of her native Connecticut, and could certainly beof no possible use on so long and difficult a journey as this. Butsomething had to be done with her. She was afraid to be left alone atStoneleigh, and as she was anxious about Una it seemed best on the wholeto take her along. She proved an inoffensive traveler and gave amusementto more than one tourist by her extraordinary costumes, especially themassive, old-fashioned jewelry, with which her hands and neck werecovered and
from which she refused ever to be parted.
The trip was a hard one for Leighton, who was wedded to his quietmethodical life in Rysdale, and who had no mind for the distractionsand annoyances of foreign travel. He was spurred to activity, however,by his interest in the psychological puzzle presented by David, addedto which was a growing curiosity regarding the mysterious Indian lakeand its reputed treasure. An ordinary mining scheme, no matter howpromising, would not have moved the philosophic master of Stoneleigh.But here was something out of which might come a fine scientificdiscovery revealing the secrets of a bygone civilization. Hence, he hadnot regretted his resolution to make this quixotic pilgrimage and, ashe had latterly fallen into a sort of dependence on Andrew Parmelee formuch of the detail work connected with his scientific studies, he hadarranged with the village authorities for the schoolmaster to accompanyhim to Colombia.
Andrew was not a little alarmed at the intimate daily association withUna, the object of his adoration, which such a journey involved. Butthe fancied terrors of the situation had their compensations. It mighteven happen that in the primitive region to which they were going hecould be of vital service to this stony-hearted fair one--a possibilitythat filled him with dreams of deadly peril by land and sea in whichhe acted the part of rescuer to helpless innocence. So, this modernknight errant was miraculously strengthened to ward off the attacks ofhis Aunt Hepzibah, and departed on his mission fired with all the zealof the hero of La Mancha, his high resolve unclouded by the horrorsthat speedily came to him in the rotund nightmare known in the flesh asDoctor Miranda.
"Ah, this little Yankee," repeatedly declared that restless follower ofAesculapius, regarding the bewildered Andrew with professional glee; "hemust take my pills or he will die!"
Then, Andrew, helplessly declaring that he never felt better in hislife, would be seized by the merciless doctor, his eyelids forced apartuntil the whites of the eyes were fully exposed to whoever cared toinspect them, while a triumphant announcement marked the success of thedismal exhibit: "See! it is all yellow! This leetle fellow have themalaria, the calentura. And he refuse to take my pills--the estupido!"
But if Andrew was disturbed by these alarming outbreaks of the doctor,his companions enjoyed to the full that mental and physical relaxationexperienced by many only in the tropics. An endless panorama ofprimeval forest, broken at intervals by clusters of wattled Indian huts,known as villages, with high-sounding names, to the Magdalena boatmen,gave to the long river journey the pleasant surprises of some halfremembered dream. There was the charm of the familiar as well as thepicturesque in the drowsy air, the swift oily flow of turbid waters, theflashing green, gold and scarlet of the riotous shore. Merely to feel,if only for a day, the changing moods of this tropical nature, more thanrepaid, one felt, all the hardships and weariness of primitive travel.
For Una and David all this formed a memorable interlude in theirmutual experiences. Even the complex mission upon which the girl hadentered was forgotten in the novelty of the world to which chance hadbrought her. The scenic splendor of the river exceeded anything she hadimagined. She was fascinated by the wide sweep of water, the foliage,the glorious passion-flowers that embroidered, here and there, the thickmantle of green vines and swaying lianas that bound the treetops to theriver beneath; by the flocks of parrots, glistening like living emeraldsin the sun-bathed air, chattering their language of wild happiness asthey flew from branch to branch on the silent shore. Never had shebeheld such serene, graceful creatures as the swans--she took themfor swans, although Leighton chuckled grimly when appealed to on thesubject--great, long-necked birds, wheeling and soaring far above thesteamer, clouds of shimmering white in a sea of purest sapphire. White,too with head and neck a brilliant scarlet, was the stately King of theVultures, surrounded by a fluttering throng of dusky followers, diningon a dead alligator.
"See, Senorita!" exclaimed Miranda, pointing to a bowerlike openingamid the bushes and trees on the shore. "Ah, he is one bad fellow, thatcanaille!"
"I see nothing. Oh, yes--another dead alligator!"
"Dead!" laughed the doctor. "He is just one trap. Soon he cometogether--so!--and catch his dinner."
It was a familiar scene on this river of the tropics: an alligatorlying motionless on the shore, his yellow, mottled jaws open, waitingfor his prey. In form and color he seemed a part of the dead branchesand tangle of brushwood he had chosen for his resting place. Oncerecognized, however, and the malignant creature became a vivid symbol ofthe ruthless death with which he threatened whoever mistook his yawningmouth for a rift in a fallen tree-trunk.
"What a monster!" exclaimed David, roused from his daylong dreams.
"Estupido!" retorted Miranda. "He wait for his dinner--as you andI--that is all. The so cruel alligator, you know, is good mother for theyoung ones. She love them better than some womens."
"That hideous brute!"
"Si, Senor!" declared the doctor. "So soon that they hatch themselves,she carry the young ones in the mouth and teach them to hunt. She fightfor them and die, if it be so."
Miranda's vague natural history was of the kind derived fromwonder-loving natives. It blended well with the Magdalena's scenicmarvels, the wild animal life, glimpses of which were caught at everyhand, the dark-skinned natives in their rude dugouts--all that set thisapart as a sort of primeval world far removed from any hint of themodern. But the skepticism of the scientist was proof against idletales.
"I am not sure that your theory of the alligator is correct, SenorDoctor," remarked Leighton dryly.
"Ah, carai!" spluttered Miranda, wheeling about, ever ready for thefray.
"What you say about the care of the female alligator for her young maybe true enough," said the savant, ignoring the scowl with which he wasregarded; "but that the brute over there in the bushes is holding hismouth open by the hour in that ridiculous fashion, hoping that somethingmay walk into it, is unreasonable."
"Then, what for she do it?" demanded the doctor severely.
"I can't tell you that," admitted Leighton, adding, with a touch ofhumor, "perhaps he finds it comfortable on a hot day like this to get asmuch air as he can. Of course, I have no doubt that he would close hismouth quickly enough if any creature walked into it."
"I agree with Mr. Leighton," ventured the schoolmaster.
"Ah!" sniffed the doctor scornfully. "And you, Senorita?"
"Why," said Una doubtfully, enjoying the doctor's wrath, "he certainlydoes look hungry, doesn't he? I wouldn't trust him--although he seems tobe asleep."
"And you, Senor?" glaring at David.
"Oh, I'm not a naturalist," he laughed. "But, he looks like a prettygood sort of trap, just the same."
"Bueno, General, what sayest thou?" asked the doctor somewhatmollified. "What is that cayman doing there under the trees?"
General Herran gazed meditatively at the monster who was unconsciouslycausing this pother in natural history, and his eyes had a reminiscenttwinkle as he answered the question:
"That cayman with his mouth open is like the Yankee waiting for Colombiato walk in."
"And you walked in!" shouted Miranda delightedly.
"Well, I walked out again," said the other complacently.
"But you left Panama inside the mouth!"
"Have your joke, Senor Doctor," said Herran, not relishing the broadallusion to his discomfiture. "But perhaps your American friends herewill find a cayman in the bushes. Why do they go to Bogota just now?"
"They are friends to you. With you it is all right."
"I hear that the peons are rising against the Yankees."
"The canaille! They can do nothing."
"Besides," pursued the general, "excellent and harmless as thislearned Senor and his family are, I can hardly appear, under all thecircumstances, as protector and champion of a party of Americans."
General Herran spoke in so rapid an undertone that only one to whomSpanish is the native tongue could have followed him. But Leighton'skeen intelligence, although he was not well
versed in Spanish idioms,was quick to catch at least an inkling of what was passing between histwo companions.
"There is danger for Americans traveling in the interior?" he asked.
"I not say so," replied the doctor stoutly.
Herran tugged at the tangles of his bushy beard. "I hear that some peonshave left Bogota to fight the Yankees on the coast," he said. "But--itis nothing."
"Well, what shall we do?"
The general shrugged his shoulders. Miranda fanned himself morevigorously than ever.
"It is not important, Senor," he said impatiently. "These people aregood peoples; they are not caymans."
"Perhaps it is better to wait before you go to Bogota," persistedHerran.
"Wait in the river?" angrily demanded the doctor.
"I don't believe there is any danger. I love this country," said Una."Let's go to Bogota, Uncle Harold."
"Heavens, child!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle tremulously, the heavy goldrings that adorned her fingers clicking together in dismay. "Withall these savage, half-dressed natives about, threatening the livesof innocent Americans--and poor Mr. Parmelee down with this terriblefever----"
"I am not," feebly protested Andrew.
"Yes, that is so!" exclaimed the doctor, a joyous grin wrinkling hisface. "The vieja (old lady) speak right. We stay at Honda and give thislittle fellow my pills."
"There is sense in your plan," declared Leighton. "If we can becomfortable--and safe--at Honda, we will stay until we know what ishappening away from the river, and until Mr. Parmelee regains his healthunder your treatment."
"My dear Mr. Leighton, I assure you,----" began the schoolmasterpiteously.
"Don't be an estolido!" interrupted Miranda bruskly. "Soon you will beall right with my pills. This little vieja, she know--she is very wise."
Mrs. Quayle's gray ringlets bobbed deprecatingly at this generoustribute to a hitherto unsuspected sagacity on the part of their modestowner, while Andrew looked more uncomfortable and woebegone than ever.
"Doctor, you are sure that Mr. Parmelee has this miserable fever?"inquired Una anxiously.
"Senorita," declared the little man, drawing himself up impressively, "Inever mistake. I have been doctor when thousand and thousand die of thecalentura----"
"Good heavens! Poor, dear Mr. Parmelee!" murmured Mrs. Quayle.
"And I know," continued Miranda, ignoring the interruption. "I say hehave the calentura, the malaria. You will see in the eyes--I will showto you."
Andrew, prepared for what was coming, eluded his medical tormentor,seeking safety behind the chair of the portly Leighton.
"Caramba! que estupido!" growled the doctor, balked of his prey."Bueno," he added, fanning himself resignedly, "we shall see. In Hondayou take my pills. Soon we will be there. And then it is good thateveryone take my pills. I am friend to you. I will take the care, Icharge nothing for the family."
"I'll not stay in Honda," said David, breaking the silence followingthis wholesale offer of assistance. "I must get to Bogota as quickly aspossible. Once there I can let you know if it's safe to travel into theinterior."
"A good idea," assented Leighton.
"If it's dangerous for us, it's dangerous for you," objected Una.
"Oh, I'll take a burro loaded with the doctor's pills along with me,"said David. "I know the country. I have friends in Bogota; there is nodanger. And I leave you in good hands."
"So, that is settle," remarked Miranda complacently. "Very good! I takecare to your families. But--you will beware, my young fellow."
"I tell you I'll have a burro load of your pills, doctor!"
"That is good. You are not estupido, like this leetle fellow with themalaria! Remember, these people are no friend just now to the Yankee."
"Everyone knows me here; I have no enemies," was the confident reply.
Honda, the picturesque little river-port whence the traveler from thecoast sets out on muleback for his three days' journey up the mountainsto Bogota, was reached on the following day, after a twenty-five miletrip by rail from La Dorada, the terminus of the Magdalena steamers.Charming as Honda is architecturally, its quaint red-tiled housesnestling against a background of radiantly green foothills over whichthe winding trails leading to the far distant capital are scarcely everwithout their ascending or descending trains of jostling mules andburros, the place has something of a bad name among foreigners for itsfevers. Whether or not its reputation in this respect is deserved wouldbe hard to say. For the traveler, certainly, who has been confined forten days to the rude quarters provided by a river steamer, the littletown comes as a welcome respite in a long if not uninteresting journey.Here, for the first time, he tastes the freedom and glamour of theAndes; and in the movement and bustle incident to setting out on thearduous pull over the primitive passes that thread their way acrossthe mountains, there is the stimulus that comes with the promise ofadventure and discovery. Honda, with its radiant sunshine, its tiltedstreets, its cool white buildings and low rambling hostelries hiddenunder a veil of flashing greenery, its sparkling little mountain streamtumbling beneath a venerable bridge that savors of the days of Spanishconquest and romance, is the link of emerald between the mighty riverof the tropics and the vast highlands that stretch upward to the regionof perpetual snow. As an emerald it lives ever after in the traveler'smemory.
In this village--it is hardly more than that--oriental in its sensuousbeauty, American of a century or two ago in character and outwardaspect, the "Barcelona's" passengers were content to stay for a time.Una's delight in the picturesque little settlement was marred by theimpending separation from David. It was not merely his absence thatcaused her unhappiness; she worried over the dangers that she believedawaited him in Bogota. Her anxiety was increased by the rumor, reachingthe travelers on their arrival at La Dorado, that war had been declaredbetween the United States and Colombia. There was no truth in thisrumor; it was without official confirmation, and ridiculed alike byDoctor Miranda, David and Leighton. But it was credited by most of thenatives, whose belief was stoutly upheld by the principal Americanresident of Honda, an amiable patriarch who had once acted as hisgovernment's representative and was known throughout the republic. Trueor false, the rumor did not add to the comfort of the travelers, andintensified Una's desire to keep David with the rest of the party untilthey could all set out together for Bogota.
The Gilded Man: A Romance of the Andes Page 9
