Chapter II: Part 2

We made but little progress during the day. That night after going over the various phases of the situation and fighting mosquitoes--which would bite through our garments at any point where they happened to alight--with no prospect of any rest during the entire night, we found ourselves wrought up to such a mutinous state of mind that it appeared inevitable that something must be done, and that quickly. We directed our interpreter to awaken the owner of the boat and explain the facts to him, which he did. He told him that we had become desperate and that if not landed in Tuxpam in forty-eight hours we purposed putting both him and his man ashore, dumping the cargo, and taking the boat back to Tampico; that we would not be fooled with any longer, and that if he offered any resistance both he and his man would be ejected by main force. The interpreter was a tall, powerful man, standing six feet and two inches in his stocking feet, and had a commanding voice. He had spent several years on the Mexican frontier along the Rio Grande, and understood the Mexicans thoroughly. He needed only the suggestion from us in order to lay the law down to them in a manner not to be mistaken for jesting. This he did for at least ten minutes with scarcely a break of sufficient duration to catch his breath. The boatman, thinking that we were of easy-going, good-natured dispositions, had been quite indifferent to our remonstrances, but he was now completely overwhelmed with astonishment at this sudden outburst. He begged to be given another trial, and said he would not make another stop, except to rest at night, until we reached Tuxpam. We passed a sleepless night with the mosquitoes, frogs, cranes, pelicans, ducks--and perhaps a dozen other varieties of insects and waterfowl--all buzzing, quacking and squawking in unison on every side. In the morning my physical condition was not improved. A little after noon we approached a small settlement on the border of the lake, and stopped to see if we could obtain some medicine and provisions. Our interpreter found what seemed to be the principal man of the place, who took us into his house and provided us with a very good dinner and a couple of quart bottles of Madeira. I had partaken of no food for nearly thirty-six hours, and was unable now to eat anything. We explained to him about the smallpox episode and he agreed that I had all the customary symptoms of the disease. I wrote a message to be despatched by courier to Tampico and from there cabled home, but on second thought it seemed unwise to disturb my family when it was utterly impossible for any of them to reach me speedily, so I tore it up. We arranged for a canoe and four men to start that night and hurry us back to Tampico with all possible speed. The member of our party who had been suffering with headache and dizziness had eaten a hearty dinner, and having had a few glasses of Madeira he was indifferent as to which way he went. During the afternoon I slept for several hours and about seven o'clock awoke, feeling much better. Not desiring to be the cause of abandoning the trip, I had them postpone the return to Tampico until morning. Meanwhile we paid off our boatman, as we had determined to proceed no further with him under any conditions. He remained over night, however. In the morning I felt much better and the fever had left me. We decided to change our plans for return, and to go "on to Tuxpam;" in fact this had now become our watchword. We had had enough of travel by water, and finding a man who claimed to know the route overland we bargained with him to furnish us with four horses and to act as guide, the price to be $100. He also took along an extra guide. The distance, he said, was seventy-five miles, and that we would cover it in twenty-four hours. The highest price that a man could ordinarily claim for his time was fifty cents per day, and the rental of a horse was the same. Allowing the men double pay for night-travel each of them would earn $1.50, and the same returning, making in all $6 for the men; and allowing the same for six horses, their hire would amount to $18, or $24 in all. We endeavored to reason him down, but he was cunning enough to appreciate the urgency of our needs, and wouldn't reduce the price a penny.

It is worthy of note that in this part of the country there is no fixed value to anything when dealing with foreigners. If you ask a native the price of an article, or a personal service, he will very adroitly measure the pressure of your need and will always set the figure at the absolute maximum of what he thinks you would pay, with no regard whatever for the value of the article or service to be given in exchange. If you need a horse quickly and are obliged to have it at any cost, the price is likely to be four times its value. In bartering with the natives it is wise to assume an air of utter indifference as to whether you trade or not. I once gave out notice that I wanted a good saddle-horse, and next morning when I got up there were seventeen standing at my front door, all for sale, but at prices ranging from two to five times their value. I dismissed them all, saying that I didn't need a horse at the time, and a few days later bought the best one of the lot for exactly one quarter of the original asking-price. We were told in Tampico of a recent case where an American traveler employed a man to take his trunk from the hotel to the depot, a distance of less than half a mile, without agreeing upon a price, and the man demanded $10 for the service, which the traveler refused to pay, as the regular and well-established price was but twenty-five cents. The trunk was held and the American missed his train. The case was taken to court and the native won,--the judge holding that the immediate necessity of getting the trunk to the station in time to catch the train justified the charge, especially in that it was for a personal service. The native had been cunning enough to carry the trunk on his back instead of hauling it with his horse and wagon, which stood at the front door of the hotel. The traveler was detained four days in trying the suit, and his lawyer charged him $50 for services. In these parts it is therefore always well to make explicit agreements on prices in advance, especially for personal service to be performed.

In purchasing goods in large quantities one is always expected to pay proportionately more, because they reason that the greater your needs the more urgent they are. I discovered the truth of this statement when purchasing some oranges at the market-place in Tampico. The price was three cents for four oranges. I picked up twelve and gave the man nine cents, but he refused it and asked me for two reals, or twenty-five cents. I endeavored to reason with him, by counting the oranges and the money back and forth, that at the rate of four for three cents, a dozen would come to _medio y quartilla_ (nine cents), and nearly wore the skin off the oranges in the process of demonstration; but it was of no use. Finally I took four, and handing him three cents took four more, paying three cents each time until I had completed the dozen. I put them in my valise and left him still counting the money and remonstrating.

We agreed to the extortionate demand of $100 for the hire of the horses and men, only on condition that we were to be furnished with ample provisions for the trip. Leaving our baggage with the boat to be delivered at Tuxpam we started on our horseback journey just after sunset, expecting to reach Tuxpam by sunset next day. The trail led through brush and weeds for several miles, and in less than ten minutes we were covered with wood-ticks from head to foot. Shortly after nightfall we entered a dense forest where the branches closed overhead with such compactness that we couldn't distinguish the movement of our hands immediately before our eyes. The interpreter called to the guide in front and asked if there were any wild animals in these woods; in response we received the cheering intelligence that there were many large panthers and tigers, and that further on along the coast there were lions. After that we momentarily expected to be pounced upon by a hungry tiger or panther from some overhanging bough. The path was crooked, poorly defined, and very rugged. Our faces were frequently raked by the branches of trees and brush, and the blackness seemed to intensify as we progressed. We loosened the reins and allowed the horses to take their course in single file. The guide in front kept up a weird sort of yodling cry which must have penetrated the forest more than a mile. It was a cry of extreme lonesomeness, and is said by the natives to ward off evil spirits and wild animals. I can well understand the foundation for such a belief, particularly in regard to the animals. The pestiferous wood-ticks were annoying us persistently, and it looked as though we had changed for the worse in leaving the boat. At length we came out into the open along the Gulf, and traveled several miles down the coast by the water's edge. It was in the wooded district at our right along here that the lions were so abundant, but I have my doubts if there was a lion, or tiger, or panther anywhere within a mile of us at any time. In my weakened physical condition the exertion was proving too strenuous, and at three o'clock in the morning we all stopped, tied the horses at the edge of the thicket and lay down for a nap beside a large log that had been washed ashore on the sandy beach. The natives assured us that the lions were less likely to eat us if we remained out in the open. A stiff breeze blowing from off the water whirled the dry sand in eddies all along the beach. We nestled behind the log to escape the wind and sand, and in a few minutes were all fast asleep. When we awoke a couple of hours later we were almost literally buried in sand. The wag of the party said it would be an inexpensive burial, and that he didn't intend ever to move an inch from the position in which he lay.

Unaccustomed as we were to horseback riding, it required the most Spartanlike courage to mount our horses again. After going a few miles it came time for breakfast and our interpreter asked one of the guides to prepare the meal. He responded by reaching down into a small bag hanging at his saddle-horn and pulling out four _tortillas_, one for each of us. This was the only article of food they offered us.

It may be explained that the _tortilla_ (pronounced torteeya) is the most common article of food in Mexico. It is common in two different senses,--in that it is the cheapest and least palatable food known, and also that it is more generally used than any other food there. In appearance the _tortilla_ resembles our pancake, except that it is thinner, tougher, and usually larger around. The size varies from four to seven inches in width, and the thickness from an eighth to a quarter of an inch. It is made of corn, moistened in limewater in order to remove the hulls, then laid on the flat surface of a _metate_ (a stone-slab prepared for the purpose), and ground to a thick doughy substance by means of a round stone-bar held horizontally with one hand at each end and rubbed up and down the netherstone, washboard fashion. The women usually do this work, and grind only as much at a time as may be required for the meal. The dough--which contains no seasoning of any kind--not even salt--is pressed and patted into thin cakes between the palms of the hand, and laid on a griddle or piece of sheetiron (stoves being seldom seen) over a fire to bake. They are frequently served with black beans--another very common article of food in Mexico--and by tearing them into small pieces they are made to serve the purpose of knives, forks and spoons in conveying food to the mouth,--the piece of _tortilla_ always being deposited in the mouth with the food which it conveys. Among the poorer classes the _tortilla_ is frequently the only food taken for days and perhaps weeks at a time. It is never baked crisp, but is cooked just enough to change the color slightly. When served hot, with butter--an _extremely_ rare article in the rural districts--it is rather agreeable to the taste, but when cold it becomes very tough and in taste it resembles the sole of an old rubber shoe.

Such was the food that was offered us in fulfillment of the promise to supply us with an abundance of good provisions for the journey. I had eaten scarcely anything for three days, and with the improvement in my physical condition my appetite was becoming unmanageable. We found that it would probably be impossible to obtain food until we reached Tamiahua, a small town about thirty miles down the coast. It would be tiresome and useless to dwell further upon the monotony of that day's travel along the sands of the barren coast, with nothing to eat since the afternoon before. Suffice it to say that we all were still alive when we arrived at Tamiahua at about three o'clock in the afternoon. Meanwhile we had been planning how best to get even with the Mexicans for having bled us and then starved us. Fortunately, we had paid only half the sum in advance, and the remaining half would at least procure us a good meal. We went to a sort of inn kept by an accommodating native who promised to get up a good dinner for us. We told him to get everything he could think of that we would be likely to enjoy, to spare no expense in providing it, and to spread the table for six.

Tamiahua is situated on the coast, cut off from the mainland by a small body of water through which the small freight-boats pass in plying between Tampico and Tuxpam. There happened to be a boat at the wharf, just arrived from Tampico with a load of groceries destined for Tuxpam. The innkeeper suggested that there might be some American goods aboard, and we all went down to interview the boatman. He informed us that the cargo was consigned to a grocer in Tuxpam and that he couldn't sell anything, but when our interpreter slipped a couple of silver _pesos_ (dollars) into his palm he told us to pick out anything we wanted. We took a five-pound can of American butter, at $1 a pound, an imported ham at fifty cents a pound, a ten-pound tin box of American crackers at fifty cents a pound, four boxes of French sardines, two cans of evaporated cream, and a selection of canned goods, the bill amounting in all to $22.25. This was all taken to the inn and opened up. The innkeeper was instructed to keep what we couldn't eat. The butter was so strong that he kept the most of that, with more than half of the crackers. At five o'clock we were served with a dinner of fried chicken, fried ham and eggs, canned baked beans, bread and butter, coffee, and native fruit. The two guides were invited to sit down with us to what was doubtless the most sumptuous feast ever set before them. After dinner we called for a dozen of the best cigars that the town afforded, and two were handed to each one, including the guides. After lighting our cigars we called for the bill of the entire amount, which, including the sum of $22.25 for the boatman, came to $38.50. We called the innkeeper into the room, counted out $50 on the table, and paid him $38.50 for the dinner and the boatman's bill; then gave him $5 extra for himself, while the remaining $6.50 was handed to the head guide. He almost collapsed with astonishment, and wondered what he had done to deserve such a generous honorarium; but his amazement was increased ten-fold when the interpreter informed him that this was the balance due him. A heated argument ensued between them, and the guide drawing his machete attempted to make a pass at the interpreter, with the remark that he would kill every _gringo_ (a vulgar term applied to English-speaking people by the Mexicans in retaliation for the term _greaser_) in the place. The innkeeper pounced upon him with the quickness of a cat and pinioned his arms behind him. His companion seeing that he was subdued made no move. The innkeeper called for a rope and in less than five minutes the belligerent Mexican was bound hand and foot and was being carried to the lockup. The interpreter explained the whole matter to the innkeeper, who sided with us, of course. The effect of the five-dollar tip was magical. He went to the judge and pleaded our case so eloquently that that dignitary called upon us in the evening and apologized on behalf of his countrymen for the indignity, assuring us incidentally that the offender would be dealt with according to the law. We presented him with an American five-dollar gold piece as a souvenir. He insisted that we remain over night as his guests, and in the morning piloted us through the village. The first place visited was the cathedral, a large structure standing in the center of the principal street. Its seating capacity was perhaps five times greater than that of any other building in the village. It contained a number of pieces of beautiful old statuary, and on the walls were many magnificent old paintings, of enormous dimensions, with splendid frames. They are said to have been secretly brought to this obscure out-of-the-way place from the City of Mexico during the French invasion, but for what reason they were never removed seems a mystery.

A _fiesta_ was in progress in honor of the birthday of some saint, and it was impossible to get anyone to take us to Tuxpam, only a few miles distant. We desired to continue via the _laguna_, and engaged two men to take us in a sort of gondola, with the understanding that we should leave just after sunset. We gave the men a dollar apiece in advance, as they wished to purchase a few articles of food, etc., for the journey, and they were to meet us at the inn at sunset. Neither of them appeared at the appointed time, and in company with the innkeeper we went in search of them. In the course of half an hour we found one of the men behind a hut, drunk, and asleep. He had drank a whole quart of _aguardiente_ and the empty bottle lay at his side. We left him and went to the boat, where we found the other man stretched out full length in the bottom with a half-filled bottle beside him. We concluded to start out and to put the man at the paddle as soon as he became sufficiently sober. The innkeeper directed us as best he could and we pushed off from the shore about an hour after nightfall, expecting to reach Tuxpam by eight o'clock next morning. We were told to paddle out across the lake about a mile to the opposite shore, where there was a channel leading into a large lake beyond. The water was very shallow most of the way, and filled with marshgrass and other vegetation, which swarmed with a great variety of waterfowl. Disturbed by our approach they kept up a constant quacking, squawking and screeching on all sides, which, reverberating on the still night-air, made the scene dismal enough. There was a _baile_ in progress near the shore in the village and as we paddled along far out in the lake we could see the glimmer of the lights reflected along the surface of the water and could hear the dance-music distinctly. When we had gotten well out into the lake the drunken man in the bottom of the boat waked up and inquired where he was and where we were taking him. Seeing the lights in the distance and hearing the music he suddenly remembered that he had promised to take his girl to the dance, and demanded that he be taken back to shore. Upon being refused he jumped out into the water and declared that he would wade back. We had great difficulty in getting him back into the boat and came near capsizing in the operation. The ducking he got sobered him up considerably and at length we got him at the helm with the paddle and told him to head for the mouth of the channel. He neared the shore to the right of the channel and following along near the water's edge was within a quarter of a mile of the village before we realized what his trick was. The interpreter took the paddle away from him and told him of the dire consequences that would follow if he didn't settle down and behave himself. After turning the boat around and following along the shore for half a mile he promised to take us to Tuxpam if we would agree to get him another bottle of _aguardiente_ there and also a present with which to make peace with his girl. Upon being assured that we would do this he seemed quite contented and set to work in earnest. As we entered the narrow channel a large dog ran out from a nearby hut, and approaching the boat threatened to devour us all. Provoked at this interference the Mexican made a swish at him in the dark with the paddle, but missing the dog he struck the ground with such violence that the handle of the paddle broke off near the blade, and both Mexican and paddle tumbled headlong into the water with a splash. This provoked the dog to still greater savagery, and jumping from the bank into the boat he attacked the interpreter with the ferocity of a tiger. He was immediately shot and dumped into the water. Meanwhile our gondolier had clambered up on the bank and the two pieces of the paddle had floated off in the darkness. What to do was a serious question. The native at the hut had probably been aroused by the shot and was likely to come down on us with more ferocity than the dog. We could not therefore appeal to him for another paddle. It was so dark that we could scarcely see one another in the boat, and it was exceedingly fortunate that none of the party was shot instead of the dog. While we were debating the various phases of our predicament the Mexican--who had now become quite sober after his second sousing--unsheathed his machete and cut a pole, with the aid of which he soon had us a safe distance down the channel. A few miles further on we got out at a hut by the side of the channel and bought a paddle, for which we paid three times its value.

The channels from here on were generally overhung on both sides with brush and the boughs of trees, and the darkness was so intense that it was impossible to distinguish any object at a distance of three feet. The man at the paddle set up the same doleful yodling cry that we had heard in the woods, and continued it at intervals all through the night. He advised us to be careful not to allow our hands to hang over the edge of the boat, as the channel abounded with alligators. As a matter of fact, I doubt if there was an alligator within miles of us. The native was doubtless sincere in his statement, because he had perhaps heard others say that there were alligators there. The story of the lions, tigers and panthers in the woods along the coast was also undoubtedly a myth which like many other sayings had become a popular belief from frequent repetition. The same is true of dozens of tales one hears in Mexico, and about Mexico when at home. For example, the fabulous stories about the vast fortunes to be made in planting vanilla, rubber trees and coffee; but I shall treat of these matters in their proper place further on.

We finally arrived at Tuxpam in the morning at nine o'clock. As I reflected upon the experiences of the past two weeks I shuddered at the very thought of returning. It is doubtful if all the riches in this tropical land could have tempted me again to undergo the tortures and anxiety of body and mind that fell to my portion on that journey. It was an epoch long to be remembered.[6]

[6] After a lapse of twelve years I can recall the incidents and sensations of the journey from Tampico to Tuxpam as connectedly and vividly as though it had been but a week ago.

Tuxpam is a pleasant sanitary town of perhaps five thousand inhabitants situated on the banks of the beautiful Tuxpam River a few miles inland from the coast. The town is built on both sides of the river, which carries off all the refuse and drainage to the ocean below. This being a narrative of experiences rather than a history of towns and villages, I have purposely refrained from long-drawn-out topographical descriptions. The reader is doubtless familiar with the general details of the crude architecture that characterizes all Mexican villages and cities, and a detailed recital of this would be a needless repetition of well-known facts, for there is a monotonous sameness in the appearance of all Mexican towns and villages. For the purpose of this narrative it matters little to the reader whether the people of Tuxpam are all Aztecs, Spaniards, French or Indians, though in point of fact they consist of a sprinkling of all of these. Tuxpam itself is simply a characteristic Mexican town, but it should be here permanently recorded that it has within its precincts one of the most adorable women to whom the Lord ever gave the breath of life: Mrs. Messick, the widow of the former American consul, is a native Mexican of ebony hue, but with a heart as large and charitable and true as ever beat in a human breast. She is far from prepossessing in appearance, and yet to look upon her amiable features and to converse with her in her broken English is a treat long to be remembered. Her commodious home is a veritable haven for every orphan, cripple, blind or otherwise infirm person that comes within her range of vision, and her retinue of servants, with herself at their head, are constantly engaged in cooking, washing and otherwise caring for the comforts and alleviating the sufferings of those unfortunates who are her special charges. She furnishes an illustrious example of the spirit of a saint inhabiting a bodily form, and it is almost worth the trip to Mexico to find that the native race can boast a character of such noble instincts.

Arriving at this picturesque town we went at once to the hotel. This hostelry consisted of a chain of rooms built upon posts about nine feet from the ground, and extending around the central market-place. There is a veranda around the inside of the square, from which one may obtain a good view of the market. The stands, or stalls, are around the outer edge under the tier of rooms, while in the center men and women sit on the ground beside piles of a great variety of fresh vegetables and other perishable articles for household use. There is perhaps no better selection of vegetables to be found in any market in America than we saw here.

The partitions dividing the tier of rooms were very thin and extended up only about two-thirds of the way from the floor to the ceiling, so there was an air-space connecting all the rooms overhead. One could hear every word spoken in the adjoining room on either side. The furniture consisted of a cot-bed, a wash-stand and a chair. We each procured a room, and as we looked them over and noted the open space overhead, someone remarked that "it would be a great place for smallpox." Having had no sleep the night before, and being very tired after sitting in a cramped position all night in the boat, we retired shortly after reaching town. At about four o'clock in the afternoon I was awakened by a vigorous pounding at my door, and my two companions, who were outside, shouted, "_Get up quick!_ there is a case of smallpox in the next room!" I jumped up quickly and in my dazed condition put on what clothing I could readily lay my hands on, and snatching up my shoes and coat ran out on the veranda. After getting outside I discovered that I had gotten into my trousers hind side before and had left my hat, collar, shirt and stockings behind, but did not return for them. We all beat a hasty retreat around the veranda to the opposite side, of the court, or square, and the people in the market-place below having heard the pounding on the door, and seeing me running along the veranda in my _déshabillé_ concluded that the place was afire. Someone gave the alarm of fire, and general pandemonium ensued. The women-peddlers and huxsters in the market hastily gathered up such of their effects as they could carry and ran out of the inclosure into the street. In remarkable contrast to the usual solicitude and thoughtfulness of motherhood, I saw one woman gather up a piece of straw-matting with about fifty pounds of dried shrimp and scurry out into the street, leaving her naked baby sitting howling on the bare ground. Vegetables and all sorts of truck were hurriedly dumped into bags and carried out. Happily this episode occurred in the afternoon when there was comparatively little doing, and very few pedestrians in the place; for had it happened in the early morning when all the people are gathered to purchase household necessities for the day, a serious panic would have been inevitable. About this time our interpreter appeared, and three soldiers in white uniforms came rushing up to us and enquired where the fire was. My companions explained to the soldiers, through the interpreter, that it was only a practical joke they had played on me. It now became my turn to laugh, for they were both placed under arrest and taken before the magistrate, charged with disturbing the peace and starting a false alarm of fire. When the interpreter explained the matter to the magistrate that official lost his dignity for a moment and laughed outright. He was a good-natured old fellow (an unusual characteristic, I understand, among Mexican magistrates) and appreciated the joke even more than I did. He recovered his dignity and composure long enough to give us an impressive warning not to play any more such pranks, and dismissed the case.

Our baggage did not arrive until five days later, and was soaking wet, as the boatman said he had encountered a gale in which he had barely escaped inundation.

There was an American merchant in Tuxpam by the name of Robert Boyd, whose store was the headquarters of all Americans, both resident and traveling. Had we talked with Mr. Boyd before going to Mexico there would have been no occasion for writing this narrative. He was an extremely alert trader and in his thirty years' residence, by conducting a general store and trafficking in such native products as _chicle_ (gum,--pronounced chickly), hides, cedar, rubber and vanilla, which he shipped in small quantities to New York, he had accumulated about $50,000 (Mexican). We had expected to make on an average that sum for every day we spent in Mexico, and were astonished that a man of his commanding appearance and apparent ability should be running a little store and doing a small three-penny[7] business. Three months later we would have concluded that any American who could make fifty thousand dollars by trading with Mexicans for thirty years is highly deserving of a bronze monument on a conspicuous site. For clever trading in a small way, the Mexican is as much ahead of the average Yankee as our present methods of printing are ahead of those employed in Caxton's time. They are exceedingly cunning traders and will thrive where even the Italian fruit-vender would starve.

[7] The customary measurement of money values in Mexico is three cents, or multiples of three, where the amount is less than one dollar. The fractional currency is silver-nickels, dimes, quarters, halves, and large copper pennies. Three cents is a _quartilla_, six cents a _medio_, and twelve cents a _real_. Although five-cent pieces and dimes are in common use, values are never reckoned by five, ten, fifteen or twenty cents. Fifteen being a multiple of three would be called _real y quartilla_, one real and a quartilla. In having a quarter changed one gets only twenty-four cents no matter whether in pennies, or silver and pennies. A fifty-cent piece is worth but forty-eight cents in change, and a dollar is worth only ninety-six cents in change, provided the fractional coins are all of denominations less than a quarter. If a Mexican, of the peon class, owes you twenty-one cents and he should undertake to pay it (which would be quite improbable) he would never give you two dimes and a penny, or four five-cent pieces and a penny; he would hand you two dimes and four pennies (two _reals_), and then wait for you to hand him back three cents change. If you were to say _veinte y uno centavos_ (twenty-one cents) to him he wouldn't have the slightest idea what you meant; but he would understand _real y medio y quartilla_,--being exactly twenty-one cents.

When we informed Mr. Boyd that we had come in search of vanilla, rubber and coffee lands he must have felt sorry for us; in fact he admitted as much to me a few months later when I knew him better. With his characteristic courtesy, however, he told us of several places that we might visit. We learned for the first time that the three industries require entirely different soils and altitudes. For coffee-land he recommended that we go up the Tuxpam River to what was known as the _Mesa_ (high table-lands) district, while for vanilla-land he recommended either Misantla or Papantla, further down the coast; and rubber trees, he said, could be grown with moderate success in certain localities around Tuxpam. He did not discourage us, because it was not consonant with his business interests to dissuade American enterprise and investments there, no matter how ill-advised the speculation might be. Others before us had come and gone; some had left their money, while others had been wise enough to get back home with it, and stay there. Some investors had returned wiser, but never was one known to return richer. All this, however, we did not learn until later. We made several short journeys on horseback, but found no lands that seemed suitable for our purposes. There were too many impediments in the vanilla industry,--not least among which was the alacrity with which the natives will steal the vanilla-beans as fast as they mature. In fact, a common saying there is, "catch your enemy in your vanilla-patch,"--for you would be justified in shooting him at sight, even though he happened there by accident. It requires a watchman to every few dozen vines (which are grown among the trees) and then for every few watchmen it needs another watchman to keep an observing eye on them. Again, the vanilla country is uncomfortably near the yellow fever zone.

As to rubber, we found very few trees in bearing, and the few scattering ones we saw that had been "tapped," or rather "gashed," in order to bleed them of their milk, were slowly dying. True, the native method of extracting the milk from the trees was crude, but they did not appear hardy.

One of the principal articles of export from this section is chicle. The reader may not be aware that a great deal of our chewing-gum comes from this part of Mexico, and that it is a thoroughly pure and wholesome vegetable product. The native _Chiclero_ is the best paid man among the common laborers in Mexico. Tying one end of a long rope around his waist he climbs up the tree to the first large limb--perhaps from thirty to sixty feet--and throwing the other end of the rope over the branch lets himself down slowly by slipping the rope through his left hand, while with the right hand he wields a short bladed machete with which he chops gashes in the tree at an angle of about forty-five degrees, which leading into a little groove that he makes all the way down, conducts the sap down to the base of the tree, where it is carried into a basin or trough by means of a leaf inserted in a gash in the tree near the ground. This is a very hazardous undertaking and requires for its performance a dexterous, able-bodied man. A single misstroke may sever the rope and precipitate the operator to the ground. In this way a great number of men are killed every year. The sap is a thick, white creamy substance, and is boiled down in vats the same as the sap from the maple tree. When it reaches a certain thickness or temperature it is allowed to cool, after which it is made up into chunks or squares weighing from ten to forty pounds each. It is then carried to market on mule-back. The crude chicle has a delightful flavor, which is entirely destroyed by the gum-manufacturers, who mix in artificial flavors, with a liberal percentage of sugar. If the gum-chewer could obtain crude chicle with its delicious native flavor he (or she) would never be content to chew the article as prepared for the trade.

Rubber is produced in the same way as chicle, and the milk from the rubber tree is scarcely distinguishable, except in flavor, from that of the chicle-producing tree. The latter, however, grows to much greater size and is more hardy. It abounds throughout the forests in the lowlands. The native rubber trees die after being gashed a few times, and those we saw in bearing were very scattering. You might not see a dozen in a day's travel.

The easiest way to make money on rubber trees is to write up a good elastic article on the possibilities of the industry, form a ten or twenty million dollar corporation and sell the stock to the uninitiated,--if there are any such left. It would be a debatable question with me, however, which would be the more attractive from an investment point of view,--stock in a rubber company in Mexico, or one in Mars. Both would have their advantages; the one in Mexico would possess the advantage of closer proximity, while the one in Mars would have the advantage of being so far away that one could never go there to be disillusioned. The chances for legitimate returns would be about the same in both places. It seems a pity that any of those persons who ever bought stock in bogus Mexican development companies should have suffered the additional humiliation of afterwards going down there to see what they had bought into.

It is surprising that up to the present time no one has appeared before the credulous investing public with a fifty-million dollar chicle corporation, for here is a valuable commodity that grows wild in the woods almost everywhere, and a highly imaginative writer could devote a whole volume to the unbounded possibilities of making vast fortunes in this industry.

While I was in Mexico a friend sent me some advertising matter of one of these development companies that was paying large dividends on its enormous capital stock from the profits on pineapples and coffee, when in point of fact there was not a coffee-tree on its place, and it was producing scarcely enough pineapples to supply the caretaker's family.

In regard to coffee, we found that some American emigration company appeared to be making a legitimate effort to test the productivity of that staple, and had sent a number of thrifty American families into Mexico and settled them at the _mesa_,[8] several miles inland from Tuxpam. They had cleared up a great deal of land and put out several thousand coffee-plants. There are many reasons why this crop cannot be extensively and profitably raised in this part of Mexico,--and for that matter, I presume, in any other part. Foremost among the many obstacles is the labor problem. The native help is not only insufficient, but is utterly unreliable. It is at picking-time that the greatest amount of help is required, and even if it were possible to rely upon the laborers, and there were enough of them, there would not be sufficient work to keep them between the harvest-seasons. It would be totally impracticable to import laborers; the expense and the climate would both be prohibitive. Again, the price of labor here has increased greatly of late years, without a corresponding appreciation in the price of coffee.[9]

[8] In 1907, I received a letter from my foreman at the ranch, saying that yellow fever had spread throughout the Tuxpam valley district, and that upon its appearance in the American settlement at the _mesa_ the whole colony of men, women and children literally stampeded and fled the country, taking with them only the clothes that were on them. The old gentleman (American) from whom I bought my place, and who had lived there for forty-seven years prior to that time, fell a victim to the yellow plague, together with his two grown sons. Thirty years before his wife and two children had fallen victims to smallpox. Thus perished the entire family. It is said that this is the first time in many years that yellow fever had visited that district. I scarcely ever heard of it while there, though Vera Cruz, a few miles further south, is a veritable hot-bed of yellow fever germs.

[9] There is nearly an acre of coffee in full bearing on my place, but I have not taken the trouble even to have it picked. Occasionally the natives will pick a little of it either for home use or for sale, but they do not find it profitable, and so most of the fruit drops off and goes to waste.

Neither vanilla, coffee nor rubber had ever been profitably raised in large quantities and we therefore decided that under the existing circumstances and hindrances we would dismiss these three articles from further consideration.

If we had been content to return home and charge our trip to experience account, all would have been well,--but we pursued our investigations along other lines. The possibilities of the tobacco industry claimed our attention for awhile--it also claimed a considerable amount of money from one of my companions. Someone (perhaps the one who had the land for sale) had recently discovered that the ground in a certain locality was peculiarly suited to the growth of fine tobacco, which could be raised at low cost and sold at fabulous prices. We learned that a large tract of land in this singularly-favored district was for sale; so thither we went in search of information. The soil was rich and heavily wooded; it looked as though it might produce tobacco or almost anything else. I neither knew nor cared anything about tobacco-raising and the place did not therefore interest me in the least. One of my companions, however, had been doing a little figuring on his own account, and had calculated that he could buy this place, hire a foreman to run it, put in from five to eight hundred acres of tobacco that year, and that the place would pay for itself and be self-sustaining the second year. By the third year he would have a thousand acres in tobacco, and the profits would be enormous. It would not require his personal attention, and he could send monthly remittances from home for expenses, and probably come down once a year on a _pleasure trip_. Parenthetically, by way of assurance to the reader that the man had not entirely lost his reason, I may say that we learned in Tuxpam that of all routes and modes of travel to that place we had selected by far the worst; that the best way was to take a Ward Line Steamer from New York to Havana, and from there around by Progreso, Campeche, and up the coast to Vera Cruz, thence to Tuxpam. From Tuxpam the steamers go to Tampico, then back to Havana and New York. However, one cannot count with certainty on landing at Tuxpam, as the steamers are obliged to stop outside the bar and the passengers and cargo have to be lightered over. The steamers often encounter bad weather along the coast, and it frequently happens that passengers and freight destined for Tuxpam are carried on up to Tampico.

My friend had gotten his money easily and was now unconsciously planning a scheme for spending it with equal facility. The more we tried to dissuade him the more convinced he was of the feasibility of the plan. We argued that no one had ever made any money in tobacco there, and that it was an untried industry. He said that made no difference; it was because they didn't know how to raise tobacco. He would import a practical tobacco-man from Cuba--which he finally did, under a guarantee of $200 a month for a year--and that he would show the Mexicans how to raise tobacco. He bought the place, arranged through a friend in Cuba for an expert tobacco-raiser, and sent couriers through the country to engage a thousand men for chopping and clearing. He was cautioned against attempting to clear too much land, as it was very late. The rainy season begins in June, and after that it is impossible to burn the clearings over. The method of clearing land here is to cut down the trees and brush early in the spring, trim off the branches and let them lie until thoroughly dry. In felling a forest and chopping up the brush and limbs it forms a layer over the entire area, sometimes five or six feet deep. Under the hot sun of April and May, during which time it rarely rains more than a slight sprinkle, this becomes very dry and highly inflammable. Early in June the fires are set, and at this season the whole country around is filled with a hazy atmosphere. The heat from the bed of burning tinder is so intense that most of the logs are consumed and many of the stumps are killed; thus preventing them from sprouting. Every foul seed in the ground is destroyed and for a couple of years scarcely any cultivation is required.

Our would-be tobacco-raiser paid no heed to advice or words of warning; he was typical of most Americans who seek to make fortunes in Mexico,--they have great difficulty in getting good advice, but it is ten times more difficult to get them to follow it. You rarely obtain trustworthy information from your own countrymen who have investments there, for the chances are fifty to one that they are anxious to sell out, and will paint everything in glowing hues in the hope that they may unload their burdens on you. Even if they have nothing to sell, they are none the less optimistic, for they like to see you invest your money. Wretched conditions are in a measure mitigated by companionship; in other words, "Misery loves company."

Hereafter I shall refer to the man who bought the tobacco land as Mr. A., and to my other companion as Mr. B.

Mr. A. was delayed in getting his foreman and had the customary difficulty in hiring help. Three hundred men was all he could muster at first, and they were secured only by paying a liberal advance of twenty-five per cent. over the usual wages. They began cutting timber about the 28th of April,--the season when this work should have been finished, and continued until the rainy season commenced, when scarcely any of the clearing had been burned; and after the rains came it was impossible to start a fire, so the whole work of felling upwards of four hundred acres of forest was abandoned. Every stub and stump seemed to shoot up a dozen sprouts, and growing up through the thick layer of brush, branches and logs, they formed a network that challenged invasion by man or beast. The labor was therefore all lost and the tobacco project abandoned in disgust.

I was told by one of the oldest inhabitants--past ninety--that it had never once failed to rain on San Juan's (Saint John's) Day, the 24th of June. Sometimes the rainy season begins a little earlier, and occasionally a little later, but that day never passes without bringing at least a light shower. Of course it was in accord with my friend's run of luck that this should be the year when the rainy season began prematurely; but the truth of the matter is, it was about the most fortunate circumstance that could have occurred; for as it turned out he lost only the money laid out for labor, together with the excess price paid for the land above what it was worth; whereas, had everything gone well he was likely to have lost many thousands of dollars more.[10]

[10] A few years later Mr. A. sold his unimproved land for about one-third of what it cost him, so that now I am the only one of the party to retain any permanent encumbrances there. Be it said, however, to the credit of my injudicious investment, that there has never been a year when I have not received a small net return, over expenses; and that is far more than I can say for my farm in Massachusetts, with all its modern equipments. It has lately been discovered that that section of Mexico is rich in petroleum, and in 1908 I leased the oil-privileges alone for a sum nearly as large as I expected ever to realize for the whole place.