It did not take me long to come to a decision. Stanley's "Through the Dark
Continent" had inspired me as a boy with a determination to go off into the
Unknown World which lies beyond the confines of civilization, offering a
life brimful of adventure to him who would penetrate its depths.
Adventure! That was the keynote of my life, the note to which my youthful,
untamed spirit vibrated in sympathy. Here was my chance, then. To South
America, with its vast tracts of unexplored territory, holding Heaven knows
what strange secrets, I would go.
On November 18th, 1894, I sailed from New York in the
S.S. Advance, of the old Ward Line, bound for Panama, via Colon, with
$100 in my pocket. In ten days we made the Colombian port, after a voyage
which was, I suppose, as uneventful as any other, but which was, for me,
a great adventure. I was on my way to my goal.
Colon struck me as being a town of turkey-buzzards and
niggers. Both turned out in large numbers to watch the arrival of the S.S.
Advance. I had not much of a chance to see the town, a mere collection
of thatched roofs grouped round the wooden wharves, half-hidden by the palms
and banana plants which grow in profusion. Situated in the middle of a swamp,
with muddy lanes for streets, and buzzards in place of sewers, it was a wholly
unattractive place.
I boarded a train on the landing-pier, and was taken
across the Isthmus in about two and a half hours, passing a series of small
country towns much the same as Colon itself, and having frequent glimpses of
the old De Lesseps Canal. The abandoned machinery still lay where it had been
left by the French, rotting in the mud and water, tropical growth sprouting
from the stacks of the steam-shovels, their great boilers half hidden in
the tangled mass of rank weeds. It was a dismal spectacle.
Arrived at Panama, I wrote home on December 12th, 1894,
from the Grand Hotel, the only one the town boasted. It described itself
on its letter paper as "Situated in the Parque de Santa Ana, the most central
point of the city, and at the same time the healthiest; a first-class restaurant;
splendid bedrooms for travellers and transients; cup-and-ball room."
In reality, dirt, bugs, and an absolute disregard for
the decencies of life as we understand them were the outstanding features
of that hotel. The sanitary arrangements were primitive in the extreme. The
"splendid bedrooms" to which the letter-paper gave witness were so teeming
with vermin that no proper impression of the state of things can be conveyed.
I was not aware at the time whether it was the custom to mow the grass and
weeds before showing a guest to his room, but at any rate the proprietor
of that hotel neglected to do so. The verdure was growing between the
floor-boards to the height of at least a foot when I took possession of my
room. I did a little weeding before bringing in my steamer trunk, and depositing
it in the clearing which I had made, that night I slept on it, escaping the
crawling creatures which lived in the bed, and which would have had to risk
being lost in the forest on the floor in order to reach me. The mosquitoes,
however, were appalling.
Mr. Soresby, the American consul, was very kind to me, and gave me a good
deal of friendly advice for which I was very grateful. Many were the traps
awaiting the young, unwary traveller from the North. On my second evening
in the town, he took me out to see the places of amusement, demonstrating
among other things his skill at the wheel of fortune. In a very few minutes
he broke the bank for twenty thousand Colombian
pesos. To the proprietor, who came
and begged him to lend him half the money to re-start the wheel, he put a
leading question:
"Would you," he asked, "have given me back half my money
if I had lost a fortune to you?"
Next day I was glad enough to board the S.S. Santiago of the
Pacific Mail Line, and see the last of Panama as we sailed for
Guayaquil. After forty-eight hours' sailing, we arrived at our destination.
There were two outstanding features of the chief port of Ecuador which,
I think, deserve mention; the sewage system, and the "Admiral." Mr.
Dillard, the American consul, described to me the former as I was not
staying long enough in the town to see it for myself, due to the prevalence
of yellow fever and bubonic plague, and introduced me to the latter.
The refuse of all kinds, instead of being carried away
in drains, was thrown out of the upper windows of the houses on to the roofs
of passing tram-cars which were surrounded by a special boarding a foot high.
A fair proportion hit its mark. When the car arrived at the outskirts of
the town, the deck-cargo was dumped by the conductor. A leak in the roof
of one of those cars must have been a serious matter. This system must be
unique in all the world.
We met the "Admiral" in a tavern, from which he had just
ejected everyone else with the aid of a table-leg
which he still grasped
when we entered. His name was Brown, and he was from Pittsburg. He was the
navigating officer, chief gunner, and engineer of the Ecuadorian fleet, which
was lying at that moment under repair in the harbour of Guayaquil. The fleet
was composed of a couple of gun-boats, known to the English-speaking residents
as the
Espere un poco and the
Pasada mañana.
From Guayaquil I went up the Guayas, a tidal river, to
Bodegas, the greatest cacao-collecting station in the world. It lies about
eighty miles from the port of Guayaquil. Never have I seen such enormous
numbers of alligators as those which lived along that river. The water seemed
to be composed of mud and alligators. The mud-bars were almost eclipsed by
them. We ran over them and into them all the time.
Thus it happened that just two and a half years from the
day on which I had been driven in state to Schenectady station, I was met
by my friend Córdovez on the wharf of Bodegas.
And so began my seven years wanderings in South America.
