Golden Dreams and Leaden Realities 52

Golden Dreams and Leaden Realities 52

In order to take advantage of the breeze that usually sprung up at

nightfall, it was intended to set sail at once, but one delay after

another interfered to prevent. The little bread-trough which was to

transport us to the schooner had made only three trips, carrying two

passengers each time, when there burst upon us such a sudden squall

of wind and rain as at once put a stop to our embarkation. In a few

minutes the lake exhibited all the phenomena of a miniature storm. The

bread-trough was capsized and flung bottom upwards on the beach. Even

our long experience on two oceans was not sufficient to deprive the

scene entirely of its terrors. The little schooner tossed frantically

at its anchor, and we could plainly see one unfortunate already paying

to this humbler deity that tribute which we had hitherto considered

the indefeasible right of Neptune himself.

 

As it was just as impossible for those on board to return to land as

it was for us to reach the schooner, we were obliged to leave them

to their fate, and make the best of our way back to the hotel. The

landlord, so far from manifesting any pleasure at our unexpected

return, received us with that sublime indifference that characterizes

the keeper of a Spanish hotel, and seems almost the only remnant of

Castilian pride now to be found in this their adopted country.

 

The next morning the sky was more propitious, and we set sail about

ten with a gentle breeze that pushed us slowly out into the lake.

Besides the crew, which consisted of only the captain and one man, who

was mate, foremast hand, and cook, there were thirty passengers, each

provided with his bag of provisions. Nearly one half of the number

contrived to find room in the little cabin, which was about the size

of a New York omnibus, like that miraculous invention was never full,

and possessed of the same unaccountable propensity to knock two heads

together, to the infinite detriment of their hats and their good

temper. I remained all the time on deck, exposed to the scorching sun,

by turns, and the pelting rain.

 

Towards evening the breeze freshened, and I began to feel all the

symptoms of genuine sea-sickness. In spite of all my efforts, I could

not disguise from myself the mortifying infirmity. It is really worth

while to be sea-sick at sea, and when one is just starting on a long

voyage. One feels so much better after it, and as if he had thus

purchased an exemption from all further molestation, and had a perfect

right to eat, drink, and be merry. Besides, there is a consonancy in

the ideas as in the very words--this sort of ordeal through which

we are required to pass before being initiated into the Neptunian

mysteries is like those fearful preliminary tests which the aspirant

after masonic honours is obliged to undergo.

 

It is well worthy the greatness and majesty of the sea. It is a price

worth paying for the immunity it confers. No one who is bound on a

voyage of four or five months can reasonably complain because his

probation extends over as many days or even weeks. What though he is

subjected to a constant process of subtraction--to a continual drain

of life and energy--has he not all the rest of the voyage to repair

his losses and replace his sickly, effeminate habit with that health

and robustness which salt junk and pilot bread are so especially

fitted to impart?

 

But on a little bit of fresh water the case is widely different. In

the first place, there is no time to be sick, with any sort of decency

or satisfaction. These things demand careful preparation, and that

kind of dexterity that can only be acquired by long habit. But here

one no sooner gets thoroughly into the midst of a fit of sickness,

and begins to feel as if he were used to it, and to discover those

little ameliorations that naturally suggest themselves, than the keel

grates on the gravel, and no less harshly on his ears, and there is

an end. All that you have suffered goes for nothing. You have been

exposed to all this shame and ignominy, without any of the consolatory

dignity that was to follow. You have been displaying all the helpless

peevishness of a child, and have lost the opportunity of retrieving

your character by a convalescent philosophy. You are like an unlucky

knight who has had the worst in a duel, but is just about to regain

the advantage, when the umpire throws down his staff and puts an end

to the combat.

 

Among the pleasant hills of classic Berkshire there dwelt whilom two

sturdy mountaineers, known far and wide by the honoured names of

Lije Harris and Hial Dowd. Both were renowned champions in the noble

and ancient art of wrestling, which, I am sorry to say, is no longer

regarded in these degenerate days with that honour awarded to it by

our more chivalrous ancestors.

 

But the fame of Hial Dowd was greater than the fame of Lije Harris--if

one was Ajax, the other was Achilles. In many encounters between them

Hial had established his superiority; and, henceforth holding himself

superior to all his former competitors, he waited until another should

arise more worthy of his arm.

 

But, as generally happens in such cases, the defeated party was not so

easily satisfied. He felt that he was quite as good as Hial Dowd, and

in fact a little better, and only wanted an opportunity to retrieve

his lost honour. On a certain militia muster, when the young men from

the adjacent villages were occupied, as usual, in various athletic

sports, the magnanimous Lije, inly grieving at his disgrace, proposed

to Zeke Brown, Ajax the less, a stratagem to draw out the Achilles of

the playground from his long inactivity. Lije was to wrestle with Zeke

three times in succession, and at the first encounter permit himself

to be thrown. He would then prove victorious in the two remaining

trials, and the acclamations that would be seen to proclaim his

triumph could hardly fail to arouse the envy of his great rival.

 

Zeke readily acceded to this proposal, and Lije, according to their

preconcerted arrangement, was soon brought to the ground, to the

infinite amusement of all the beholders. But quickly he regained his

feet, and was about to renew the combat, with victory already in his

eye, when the perfidious Zeke, with unparalleled turpitude, coolly

observed, "Wall, I guess that 'ill do for to-day; I'll wait till

somebody better comes along."

 

The horror and confusion of the unhappy Lijah can be better imagined

than described. Equally to be pitied is the unlucky wretch who

presumes to wrestle with a two-days' lake--he is sure to be vanquished

in the first encounter, and will seldom have an opportunity for a

second.

 

Besides, it is so ridiculous to be sea-sick, with land visible on

every side--so irrelevant and illogical. Then is the firm ground

only a few miles away--the merest touch of which would effect as

great a marvel as for Antæus in his famous wrestling match with

Hercules (Hercules no doubt impersonating the sea); it seems so easy

to get to it, and the motive is so strong, that one lies filled with

uneasy wonder that he does not make the attempt. It is as absurd for

this little puddle to usurp the prerogative of the ocean, as for a

homoeopath to claim the dignity of an allopathic physician. I have

no more right to be sick in the one case than to be cured in the

other. It is a positive insult to my good sense to presume such a

thing.

 

Full of these reflections I rolled myself in my blankets, and,

stretched on my back in the stern of our little craft, determined,

at all events, not to be sick until I saw a chance of doing it with

some credit and respectability. The night passed heavily. Several

times a huge wave rolling after would overtop the low bulwarks and

come surging in upon us, almost floating me from my resting place, and

putting to flight my uneasy slumbers. I caught at such times brief

glimpses of lofty, cone-shaped mountains--of short, chopping waves,

white with foam--of our bellying sails, and of certain grotesque forms

lying on the little deck outstretched and motionless.

 

The morning's sun dried our clothes, and lighting up mountain and

promontory, one after another, we began to look about us to see if

we could discover any signs of our place of destination. We had been

running all night with a favourable breeze, and San Carlos could

not be far distant. Great then were our surprise and indignation to

find that our captain, instead of taking advantage of the wind, had

acted on nearly the same principle as our early Dutch navigators

before mentioned, and, fearful of running down a continent in the

dark, had done nothing but tack back and forth all night. It was a

still more aggravating discovery that he was entirely ignorant of his

course--having, as he said in excuse, sailed this way only three times

before. Though we could not admit the validity of this plea, as the

shores of the lake were of the most marked and striking character, so

that once seen they ought never to be forgotten, yet we were obliged

to submit ourselves to circumstances, and accede to his proposition to

lie to opposite a house we saw not far from the shore and obtain the

necessary information of the inhabitants.

 

After hallooing till we were hoarse, we had the satisfaction of seeing

a party of natives come down to the shore and push off into the lake.

By dint of violent and long-continued rowing they at length brought

their clumsy canoe alongside, and then a few words sufficed to tell

the whole story. We were to round a certain headland they pointed out

to us, and afterwards hold a straight course to San Carlos.

 

Having bought a few oranges they had thrown into their boat, we left

them to make the best of their way back to the shore; and once more

filling our sails, we rounded the intervening headland, and just

at dark run our schooner up within a few yards of the beach at San

Carlos. A large open shed, or rather roof of palm-leaf, supported

by tall naked posts, seemed to have waded rather timidly out into

the lake. While we regarded with dismay the waves rolling with

considerable violence up into this building, and wondered how we

were to get to land, a party of natives darted out into the surf,

and for the moderate sum of one real offered to carry us ashore on

their shoulders. One of the riders, heavier or not so well mounted as

the rest, was precipitated headlong into the lake, to our unmingled

delight and approbation; but the unlucky native, who had been the

cause and partner of his mishap, no sooner regained his feet than he

fled up into the town without once stopping to look behind him.

 

We all followed at our leisure, in anxious search for supper and

lodging. It was long before we succeeded in finding either, and then

they were not at all to our satisfaction; but as we had a suspicion,

in spite of the darkness, that San Carlos was anything but a city of

palaces, we resolved to make the best of what we had lest we might go

farther and fare worse.

 

We slept on the floor--that is, on the bare ground--in the kitchen or

living room of the family; while in an adjoining apartment, separated

from ours only by a slight partition of bamboo hardly as high as our

heads, a woman lay dying of the yellow fever. In the morning we had

an opportunity of surveying the town to better advantage. It consists

of a small collection of hovels, with two decent houses, clustered

irregularly together at the base and on the side of a low steep

hill. The damp and unwholesome vegetation--the water oozing out of

the ground at every step--the filthy streets and doorways--are not

calculated to give the stranger a very favourable impression of the beauty or salubrity of San Carlos;