Nicaragua

SAN CARLOS—DINNER AT THE COMMANDANTE’S—INTRODUCTION TO “TORTILLAS Y FRIJOLES”—A SIESTA—NEWS OF THE ATTEMPTED REVOLUTION—ANTICIPATING EVENTS, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COMMANDANTE AFTER WE LEFT—DEPARTURE UNDER A MILITARY SALVO—VIEW OF SAN CARLOS FROM THE LAKE—LAKE NAVIGATION—CARD PLAYING—GORGEOUS SUNSET—A MIDNIGHT STORM—SAN MIGUELITO, AND THE “BATH OF THE NAIDES”—PRIMITIVE SIMPLICITY—A DAY ON THE LAKE—“EL PEDERNAL”—A BATH WITH ALLIGATORS—AN “EMPACHO”—A TRIAL AT MEDICINE, AND GREAT SUCCESS—SECOND NIGHT ON THE LAKE—THE VOLCANOES OF MOMOBACHO, OMETEPEC, AND MADEIRA—VOLCANIC SCENERY—THE COAST OF CHONTALES—THE CREW ON POLITICS—“TIMBUCOS” AND “CALANDRACAS,” OR A GLANCE AT PARTY DIVISIONS—ARRIVAL AT “LOS CORALES”—SOME ACCOUNT OF THEM—ALARMING NEWS—A COUNCIL OF WAR—FAITH IN THE UNITED STATES FLAG—THE ISLAND OF CUBI—MORE NEWS, AND A RETURN OF THE “EMPACHO”—DISTANT VIEW OF GRANADA—MAKING A TOILETTE—BEES—ARRIVAL AT THE RUINED FORT OF GRANADA—HOW THEY LAND THERE—SENSATION AMONGST THE SPECTATORS—ENTRANCE TO THE CITY—THE ABANDONED CONVENT OF SAN FRANCISCO—THE HOUSES OF THE INHABITANTS—FIRST IMPRESSIONS—SOLDIERS AND BARRICADES—THRONGED STREETS—SEÑORSEÑOR DON FREDERICO DERBYSHIRE—“OUR HOST”—A WELCOME—OFFICIAL COURTESIES—OUR QUARTERS—FIRST NIGHT IN GRANADA.

Two hours sufficed to exhaust the lions of San Carlos, including the arsenal, which was a cane hut, with a quantity of powder in kegs, piled in the middle and covered with hides; two pieces of artillery, and a hundred stand of arms, over all of which a single sentinel kept watch, and the public warehouse or bodega, which was nothing more than a great shed, with convenient hammocks for its idle guardians,—we saw all these before two o’clock, at which hour dinner was served in the commandante’s house. The table-cloth was unimpeachably white, and the service altogether neat and ample. It was clearly the intention of our host to do his best; even the pigeons seemed impressed with the idea that something extraordinary was going on, and the hen in the corner was nervous with excitement in view of the display. All the juvenile population of the place, if possible still more airily dressed than the urchins at San Juan, crowded round the doors, (they had followed us, at a distance, during our peregrinations), and regarded the whole affair with evident admiration. A number of their seniors, comprising the more respectable part of the inhabitants, arrayed for the occasion, in snow-white shirts and pantaloons, each with white buckskin shoes, and a red sash, now made their appearance, and were collectively and individually introduced, to the renewal of our mortification on the score of dress.

We sat down at the table, which was placed so as to give me the seat of honor in the hammock, while the commandante and his lieutenant, took, respectively, the head and foot. They declined to eat, devoting themselves wholly to supplying their guests. This, we afterwards learned, was Nicaraguan etiquette, when special distinction was intended to be conveyed. We were now, for the first time, introduced to the eternal tortilla and the omnipresent frijoles, to say nothing of the endless variety of dulces (sweetmeats), for which all Spanish America is famous. We commenced with beef, culminated over chicken, and finished with oranges, bananas, coffee, and cigars; with a pleasant stomachic conviction that good dinners were not incompatible with cane-huts, brooding hens in the corners, and amative pigeons under the eaves! We were anxious to see the señorita, of whom we had had a glimpse on our arrival, and whose low, laughing voice we occasionally heard through the cloth partition; but this was a delicate point, which we were cautious in touching upon, since M—— had found out that the commandante was a bachelor. Ah, commandante! I may have been mistaken, but I feel very sure it was a large black eye which I caught merry glances of through a small rent in that cloth partition!

A siesta was strongly commended to us after dinner, and hammocks were strung for the whole party. It was indispensable, our host told us, in this climate, and he wondered how it could be omitted in El Norte. Life, in his opinion, without a siesta after dinner, must soon become a wearisome affair,—and he quoted some verses from a native poet which were conclusive on the subject; so we yielded, and lay down; the people left, the doors were closed, and all was silent—even the pigeons were still. Two hours passed in a dreamy, pleasurable way, with just enough of consciousness to enjoy the mingled sensation of novelty and ease, when Ben came to apprise us that the boat was ready, and the crew on board. Our host pressed us to stay until the next morning, but the wind and weather were fair; and, although the temptation was strong, we adhered to our first intentions, and were deaf to argument. Before leaving, I inquired about the revolution of which we had heard so much at San Juan, but got no very satisfactory information. There had been an “escaramúza,” a scrimmage, at Granada, and a lawless, reckless fellow, under proscription for murder, named Somoza, had collected together a party of adherents, and sacked the city of Rivas or Nicaragua. The commandante was certain that peace and order were by this time restored; but if they were not, our arrival would certainly produce quiet. The commandante hardly thought that the same robber chief, of whom he spoke so lightly, would pay him a visit within a fortnight, and carry him off a prisoner! But so it proved to be; and although our commandante effected his escape, at imminent peril, through a wilderness, unarmed and alone, yet he was suspected of cowardice, imprisoned, and court-martialed. He came out safely, however, a shade less rotund perhaps, “a wiser if not a better man;” and before I left the country I had the satisfaction of seeing him reinstated at the fort, fat, happy, and hospitable as ever. The dark-eyed señorita was there too.

At five o’clock we embarked, for the first time, on Lake Nicaragua. The people all came to bid us good-bye; and one old man insisted upon a parting embrace. Like the prophet of old, he said he was now ready to die, for he knew that his country was safe beneath the guardianship of the Republic of the North. We pushed off under a torrent of vivas, and a feu de joie was fired by the little garrison, which Ben efficiently returned with his double-barrelled gun, while Pedro blew another nerve-cracking blast on his conch—that awful conch! The view of San Carlos, from the lake, was picturesque in the extreme, and the accompanying sketch of it will be sufficiently curious twenty years hence, when it shall have become, as it inevitably will, a large and important town. Already a steamer plies regularly between San Carlos and Granada; and the alligators, disturbed in their slumbers on the sand-bar, by its plashing wheels and noisy engine, are meditating a grand migration into the country of the Guatosos.

The faintest of all zephyrs was dying away on the lake when we started, yet we had not gone half a mile before the oars were drawn aboard, and a huge triangular sail spread from the newly-rigged mast. The breeze was hardly strong enough to fill it; and the boat dawdled, rather than moved, through the water. We expostulated with Pedro; but it was useless; the marineros never did row while there was the least apology for a wind abroad, and the “demonio” himself couldn’t make them. So Pedro lit his cigar, while the men produced a pack of cards, and commenced a game, novel enough to us, in which it was the privilege of the winner to pinch, beat, and otherwise maltreat the loser, who was obliged to submit without resistance, until the spectators pronounced “bastante,” enough. One fellow, who was a little rebellious, was incontinently thrust overboard, to the great damage of a gaudy bandana handkerchief which he wore about his head, and to the manifest delectation of the crew, who jibed him unmercifully as a “ladron,” and “picaro,” “a rascal” and “a loafer.”

The sun went down that night directly behind the purple peak of Orosi. The body of the volcano appeared to be a nucleus, whence fan-like rays radiated up to the very zenith, while the yellow light streamed past the mountain upon thelake, in a dazzling flood, in which the islands of Solentenami and La Boqueta seemed to float as in liquid gold. As the sun sank lower, the hues of the heavens changed to crimson, bringing out the palm-trees on the islands in high relief against the sky; then to purple, and finally to the cool gray of evening, through which the stars shone down with a strange and almost unnatural lustre. The transition was rapid, for here the lingering twilight of northern latitudes is unknown. Our boatmen were not insensible to the almost unearthly beauty of the scene; and when it all was passed, they began the evening chaunt,

the echoes of which were repeated from the shores, until they died away in murmurs in the distance.

The night was wonderfully still. We could distinctly hear the tinkling of guitars at the fort, at least three miles distant, interrupted by bursts of gay laughter, until a late hour. Before I slunk under the chopa, however, clouds began to gather in the north-east, lighted up momentarily by flashes of lightning, while fitful gusts of wind, veering in every quarter, betokened the approach of a thunder-storm. I nevertheless went to sleep while listening to the distant mutterings of thunder and the dismal howlings of the “mono colorado,” or howling monkey. A little past midnight, however, we were all roused in a summary manner by a dash of water full in our faces, followed the next instant by the lurching of the boat, which tumbled passengers, arms, books, and whatever was movable, all in a heap together. I disengaged myself in a moment, and scrambled out upon the pineta, where Pedro, clinging to the tiller, was calling frantically to the men, who in a confused, shouting mass were clustered around the swaying mast, vainly endeavoring to take in the sail. We were before the wind, which was blowing a hurricane, and going with immense velocity, the hissing waters rising under our stern, almost to the level of the pineta. Broad sheets of blinding lightning fell around us, followed by deafening peals of thunder, drowning for a moment the roar of the tempest. I had hardly time to comprehend the peril of our situation, with the sail entangled in the ropes, and swaying from side to side, when a flash of lightning revealed to me Ben’s stalwart form amongst the frightened marineros. I saw his short Roman sword glance for an instant above their heads,—he had cut the ropes. The sail fell, but was at once dragged aboard, while the relieved boat scudded steadily before the storm, which soon exhausted itself, leaving us drenched and uncomfortable, tossing roughly amongst the waves. The men took to the oars without an order, and in evident relief pulled back towards the course from which we had been driven. All that night, thunderstorms, like invading columns, swept over the lake around us, but we fell in the course of none of them. They all seemed to linger against the high volcanoes on the opposite shores of the lake, as if they would level in their wrath the daring rocks which opposed their progress.

The men slept no more that night, but pulled steadily and silently at the oars. Towards morning I crept again under the chopa, and slumbered until roused by the bellowing of cattle, and by the sun shining brilliantly in my face. It was after nine o’clock; we had passed the islands of La Boqueta, which lay within view, fresh and inviting, exposing under an archway of trees one or two picturesque huts, with canoes drawn up in front of them. We were within a snug little bay, in front of a broad sandy beach, on which the men were kindling fires preparatory to breakfast, while a herd of sleek-looking cattle wandered along the shore, here stooping to drink, and there engaging in mimic fights. Beneath the trees wound back a broad, well-beaten pathway, and beyond we could see the golden tops of palm-trees, the thatched roofs of houses, and hear the crowing of cocks, and the merry sound of infant voices. We were in the “Bahita de San Miguel,” the little bay of San Miguel, distant about twenty miles from San Carlos, on the northern shore of the lake. The storm of the preceding night seemed almost like a dream; could it be possible that a few hours had wrought such a change? But the tattered sails, and the saturated blankets beneath the chopa, bore testimony to the reality of the storm. In fact, Pedro was yet full of wrath at what he called the stupidity of his men—they were “tontos” all, fools and brutes. I had been as indignant as himself, but was too glad to get out of the scrape safely, to nurse my wrath; so I poured out for Pedro a gill of brandy in his calabash, which he drank to our good health, and smacking his lips, straightway recovered his temper.

Directly, a little troop of girls, with purple skirts and white guipils, their long black hair dangling loosely to their waists, and balancing red water-jars on their heads, came laughing down the pathway for water. They appeared to be old friends of our crew, who hailed them gayly with “à Dios, mi alma!” “buena mañana, mi corazon!” “adieu“adieu my soul!” “good morning, my heart!” to which they replied with “como estan, mis negritos?” “how are you, my darkeys?” and other railleries, very much, to our thinking, of the Bowery order. They passed along the shore a little distance, to a clump of bushes, and the next instant we saw them plashing like mermaids in the water; while some of our crew, who were throwing a net “for a fry,” as Pedro said, tried to frighten them by shouting “lagartos, lagartos!” “alligators, alligators!” and affecting to make great efforts to escape to the shore. But the girls were not to be “sold” so easily, and only laughed the louder, and splashed water in the faces of the jesters as they ran by. Upon discovering us, instead, as the reader might suppose, of making for the shore in confusion, they paddled boldly up to the boat, their long hair trailing like a veil on the surface of the water. They looked laughingly up in our faces for a moment, exclaiming, “California,” then ducked under, and were away. It seemed to us, while they stood drying their wet locks on the beach, that no sculptor could desire fairer models for his studio; nor the painter a more effective group for “the Bath of the Naides.” We were there in an auspicious period; those days of primitive simplicity are passing away, if, indeed, they are not already past.

After drying ourselves in the sun, we took our guns and went on shore. We followed the inviting path to which I have referred, for a short distance, when we reached a brisk little brook which came murmuring among the stones with a familiar New England accent, here rippling over the bright sand, and there widening into broad, transparent pools. In one of them a whole bevy of little naked children were tumbling about, who took to their heels, like young ducks, upon our approach. Here we met Ben, coming down from the rancherias with two foaming calabashes of fresh milk, one of which was drained on the spot, the other reserved for our coffee. I shot a few strange water-birds and a parrot amongst the bushes, and strayed back to the shore just in time for broiled fish, crisp and hot from the fire.

Every step into this strange country had been full of novelty; and although our interest never flagged for an instant, yet we thought San Miguelito more interesting than any place we had encountered, and at first entertained some vague notions of stopping there for the day. But when the freshness of the morning had passed, which it did before we had finished breakfast, when the cattle had all gone off in the woods, and no more amphibious girls came down for water, we were not only ready but anxious to depart, which we did a little before noon. I shall never forget our breakfast at San Miguelito.

The day was still and sultry: Nature seemed wearied of the elemental war of the preceding night, and anxious for repose; the branches on the palm trees on the shore appeared to droop languidly; while the men, under plea of previous extra labor, paddled along at what Ben piously denominated “a poor, dying rate.” The north-east trades sweep entirely across the continent in Nicaragua, and this wind, for boats bound from San Carlos to Granada, is therefore exceedingly favorable. They keep close under the northern shore, following its bendings, until they get nearly opposite Granada, and then stretch boldly across the lake. This is done because, with their imperfect sailing gear, venturing into the mid-lake would almost infallibly end in being blown over to the leeward shore, whence they could only be relieved by long and toilsome rowing against a cross sea—for on that shore the waves roll with almost the strength and majesty of those of the ocean. The later-built boats have something of a keel, and are schooner-rigged. These make the passage from the fort more directly. But our sails were, I suppose, a perpetuation of those used by the Indians before the Discovery, and quite indescribable. Pedro said they were “no good,” except before the wind, and there they would make the boat fly, to use his own words, “like devil.” The vision of the night recurred to me, and I yielded a full assent to the remark.

We spent nearly the whole day in vain trials to catch the ghosts of breezes, which came drowsily over the water, in our sails. I presume they were raised a score of times during the afternoon, but they only fluttered for a moment, and then dropped around the masts. This went on until the men felt hungry, and then we put in again at “El Pedernal,” the landing-place for the cattle estate of Don Frederico Derbyshire, a merchant residing in Granada, the owner of “La Granadina,” and to whom we bore letters of introduction from his correspondents in the United States. The place is not inappropriately named “The Flint.” It is the very reverse of San Miguel; there is no smooth sandy beach, but instead, the whole shore is piled with rugged black basaltic or trachytic rocks, blistered with heat, among which grow some stunted trees. A narrow path winds amongst the rocks to a little cove, in which our boat was run. A man was despatched to the estate, which is situated a mile or two inland, to know of the mayor-domo if any of the products of the farm were to be sent to the city. Meanwhile the men went deliberately through the usual tedious process of dinner-making, and we got over the side for a bath. Notwithstanding the rocky shore, the bottom is a soft black mud, in which we sank to the knees. This was neither expected nor pleasant, and when I discovered an alligator slowly rise to the surface not two rods distant, I clambered aboard with more expedition than grace, and gave the monster the contents of my gun, in return for the courtesy of his appearance.

It was nearly sunset, dinner had been finished, and the kettles had been towed on board again, when we heard voices, and suddenly turning round the point of rocks there came three horsemen, each carrying, in net-work sacks, four large square cheeses, of the weight of two arrobas (fifty pounds) each. The horses were ridden up to the side of the boat, and the cheeses carefully placed in the centre. This finished, a breeze having meantime sprung up, we hoisted sail, and glided away from “El Pedernal,” not at all dissatisfied to leave its rocks and alligators to their own pleasant company.

One of my companions, who had been growing silent and pale for several hours, now gave signs of an approaching crisis of some sort. Pedro pronounced him laboring under an “empacho,” and recommended brandy—that was his universal specific for everything, from a sprained ankle to the toothache. But the patient protested against the medicine, as an abomination which made him only the worse to think of. I thought it a capital opportunity to bring out the medicine-chest, which had been packed with an extensive regard to all sorts of contingencies at “Rushton and Clark’s,” and Ben began a grand rummage for it, to the utter distraction of everything in the boat. Meantime, as became a learned practitioner, I propounded the question usually asked by anxious mammas of complaining children, “what have you eaten?” It turned out that, besides half a calabash of fresh milk, fried fish, three eggs, a slice of ham, and bread and coffee ad libitum, the patient had “put in” the afternoon with raw plantains, and “dulce”—sugar! I comprehended that “empacho” meant something like surfeit, and to disguise the dose, mixed a little tartar emetic with magnesia, which wrought a wonderful cure—much to my elevation in the eyes of the crew, who set me down at once as a great medico. I had immediate applications on behalf of ailing wives, scalded babies, and feverish boys, for all of which I prescribed, after deliberate consultation of the “Pocket Physician.” While this was going on night fell, and I lost the sunset,—a circumstance for which, as he is thereby spared the description, the reader is no doubt properly thankful.

As the evening progressed, the breeze continued to freshen, and about midnight, Pedro, calculating that we were sufficiently to the windward, laid the course of the boat direct for Granada. I went to bed early, and owing to the disturbance of the previous night, slept soundly. When I woke, we were in mid lake, and might have been in mid sea, for all the difference discoverable in the appearance of the waves and water. The wind was strong, cool, and damp, and the men had their handkerchiefs bound round their heads, and their blankets wrapped over their shoulders. My ailing companion looked sentimental, and professed not to have wholly recovered from the “empacho,” but as I felt qualmish myself, I pronounced it sea-sickness, which, as every traveller knows, never entitles the sufferer to sympathy.

We were at least thirty miles from land, yet the shores appeared wonderfully distinct and near. We now, for the first time, felt the majesty of the giant volcanoes of Ometepec and Madeira, which had hitherto seemed so dim and distant. There they rose clear and bold against the sky, regular as works of art, the moving clouds casting their sides in shadow, and clasping their summits as they passed, then sweeping away to the distant islands of the great Pacific. Between us and the shore was the high, uninhabited island of Zapatero, its outline changing every moment with our position, while directly in front, distinguished by the towering edges of its vast and ragged crater, rose the extinct volcano of Momobacho, at the foot of which stands the ancient city of Granada. High above the forests of the shore, are some conical hills, of light green, bordering on yellow, which seemed to be cleared, and which puzzled us exceedingly. We became familiar with them afterwards, and I presume they are common in all volcanic regions. They are the cones of scoriæ, sand, and ashes, which are heaped up during eruptions. On these, trees rarely take root, but in their place a species of long, coarse grass weaves a net-work of verdure over their smooth sides. This grass is of a lively green during the rainy season, but becomes yellow in the dry, when the hills are burned over, after which they change to deep sable. Thus forever varying, they constitute remarkable and characteristic features in a Nicaraguan landscape. Upon the northern shore of the lake we saw only the broken volcanic mountains of Chontales, patched with trees, here black with lava, and there red and white with scoriæ and sand. It should be observed that it is only that part of Chontales bordering the upper portion of the lake, which presents this burned and broken aspect. Elsewhere the shores are comparatively low and undulating, with extensive savannas, which furnish abundant pasturage. The whole district is well adapted for grazing purposes.

While we were occupied with the novel and beautiful scenery of the lake, our men, collected around the foot of the mast, were engaged in a low but earnest discussion, which we soon discovered related to politics, and especially to the attempted revolution of which we had heard so much. They made frequent use of the terms “Timbucos” and “Calandracas,” which were about as significant to us as “Coons” and “Locofocos” probably were to strangers on our own shores, during certain presidential elections. We had abstained from asking questions about politics, not from want of interest, but from motives of policy; but took occasion to hear all that might be said upon the subject. We had thus contrived to get some imperfect notions of the partisan divisions of the country; the bases of which, though very trivial to the impartial traveller, were probably quite as important in fact as those which we had seen sustained with so much vehemence and virulence at home. It was easy to discover that our crew were unanimously “Timbucos,” or of the government party, while the “Calandracas” were the disaffected portion of the people. They, however, appeared to have but a sectional importance, and were far from numerous, except in the southern departments of the Republic. The robber-chief, Somoza, had turned this partisan feeling to some account by professing to be its champion, and having collected a few hundred reckless and ignorant men around him, made a sudden and successful attack on Rivas, or Nicaragua, which was defended by a small garrison of only forty soldiers. In the attack he burned a number of houses, and committed some cruel murders, besides pillaging and robbing on every hand. According to the accounts which had reached us, however, the entire city had been burned, and the inhabitants slaughtered indiscriminately and without mercy. These stories, as well as those relating to the number of his forces, proved, in the end, to be gross exaggerations,—as the reader will discover in due course.

It appeared, from what was said, that there had been a vague rumor at San Carlos, to the effect that Somoza, at the head of three thousand men, had set out some days previously for an attack on the city of Granada; and the probabilities of its truth, and the course to be pursued in the event he should have reached there, were now, as we approached the city, subjects of increasing interest with our men. The circumstance that we had, on the day preceding, seen a number of boats, making what appeared to be a forced trip in the direction of San Carlos, but too far distant to be hailed, was dwelt upon as exceedingly significant. In short, it was evident enough that the feeling of excited suspense amongst the men was every moment increasing. Pedro was silent, and answered our questions evasively, but listened earnestly to all that was said. He seemed to be oppressed by a sense of responsibility of some kind; but whether on account of himself, his boat, or his distinguished passengers, we could not make out.

By the veering of the wind, or the “falling off” of our keel-less boat, instead of making the northern islands of the group called the “Corales,” rising, hundreds in number, at the foot of the volcano of Momobacho, we found ourselves, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, at the almost extreme southern part of the archipelago. The approach to these islands was exceedingly beautiful; but when we were amongst them, out of the rough waves into the smooth water, they were really enchanting. They are of volcanic origin, elevated in the form of cones, to the height of from twenty to one hundred feet. The sides are steep, and composed of immense volcanic rocks, black and blistered by fire; but their summits are covered with verdure, and long vines hang trailing over the stones, blushing with strange flowers, almost to the edge of the water. Some of them, upon which there is a sufficient accumulation of soil, are inhabited by Indians; and their thatched huts, shaded by tall palms, with a dense background of plantains, are the most picturesque objects that can be imagined.

Within these islands the sail was dropped, and the oars resumed. Everybody was now anxious to hear the news, but the huts on the islands seemed to be deserted; at least no one appeared, although the men shouted to the inmates at top of their voices. Very soon a canoe, containing a boy and a woman, shot across our course, from between two little islands, just in advance. For a moment they showed evidences of alarm, and a disposition to retreat; but recognising Pedro, they came alongside, under a shower of confused and eager questions, which completely confounded us, and prevented anything like an understanding of what was said. We conjectured that the news was of an exciting kind, from the earnest faces and violent gestures of the crew. By-and-by the canoe pushed off, but it was full a quarter of an hour before the men took up the oars, during which time there was a warm discussion as to whether the boat should proceed at once to Granada, or remain concealed amongst the islands until the issue of affairs at the city could be ascertained. The opinion, however, seemed to be pretty decided, that we should go ahead, at whatever hazard. This decision was based, as we afterwards discovered, on the faith reposed in “la bandera del Norte America,” the flag of the United States; which they all believed neither man nor devil dared disregard. It appeared that the woman and boy of the canoe had told an alarming story of the approach of Somoza, the flight of the inhabitants, and the probable capture of the city. But Pedro, more cautious than the rest, was of the opinion that their tale had but little better foundation than their fears; and expressed great faith in the ability of the little garrison of “veteranos,” stationed in the city, to prevent its being carried by Somoza. His faith was somewhat shaken, however, on learning, a few minutes thereafter, from an Indian, lurking on one of the islands, that there had been a great firing in the city the previous night and this morning; and that all the boats had left the landing and made for the opposite shore of the lake.

There is pleasure in all kinds of excitement, which is rather enhanced than diminished by the presence of danger. And so far from being alarmed by these accounts, I was only the more anxious to get to Granada. I had been told that Somoza, notwithstanding his crimes, cruelty, and contempt for the laws, had much of the cavalier in his composition; gay, gallant, generous, and withal the finest looking and most dashing fellow in all Nicaragua. No man rode such fine horses, or could rival him in wielding the lance. Indeed, the commandante at San Carlos had intimated that he owed it to the place which he held in the good graces of the señoritas of the country, that he had so long baffled justice and defied pursuit. Altogether I had pictured him something like the gentlemanly cut-throat of the Apennines and Sierra Moreno, or the amiable bandits of the Peninsula, and almost considered myself fortunate in the prospect of an adventure, at my very first step in the country.

Two hours of steady rowing amongst the fairy “Corales” brought us to the little island of Cubi, when a broad bay, with a white beach, and an old castle on the shore, opened before us; while beyond a belt of woods, on higher ground, rose the towers of Granada. We could distinguish little of the town except the red, tiled roofs of the houses; and though from this distance it was far from imposing, yet we had so long looked forward to our arrival here, that had dome been piled on dome, and palace risen above palace, in long perspective, we could not have experienced greater satisfaction than we now did in gazing, for the first time, upon this ancient city. At the island, we found several huts, and a number of boats drawn into little nooks between the rocks, while beneath the trees were clusters of women and children, and here and there groups of men, absorbed in playing some noisy game of cards. With a vivid recollection of the indifferent figure we had cut at the fort, we had arranged with Pedro to stop here, in order to replace our stained and tattered garments; an operation which we soon discovered must be performed in face of the assembled population of Cubi, unless we preferred to encounter the fleas which we fancied must infest the dirty, dog-stocked huts on the shore. We chose the former alternative; but had hardly commenced the disruption of trunks and boxes, and the overhauling of carpet bags, before we heard a cannon in the direction of the city, followed very soon by what appeared to be a rolling discharge of musketry; and looking in that direction, we could see a volume of smoke rising from the centre of the town. Our invalid had a violent recurrence of his “empacho,” refused tartar emetic, anticipated a fever, and was altogether too ill to leave the island. So he was led up to one of the huts, and deposited in a hammock. Meantime the fusilade ended with one or two more discharges of cannon, while a white cloud rose slowly over the city. Our first impression was that Somoza had arrived, and that a fight was already in progress. The people of the island were also somewhat startled, and for a time watched the town with evident anxiety; but in the end quietly resumed their amusements. Pedro also seemed to be relieved; and after listening for a while, finally exclaimed that all was right: the day, he said, was a fiesta, and what we had supposed a discharge of firearms, was only the explosion of “bombas” or rockets,—“in point of fact,” fireworks. I cannot say that I was particularly gratified with the information, after having prepared myself for a siege at least, if not an assault.

Myriads of bees, attracted by the sweets in the boat, swarmed around us while making our toilet. Their first onset fairly drove us out on the rocks, but Pedro quieted us with the assurance that they were stingless, when we returned and completed our arrangements. It was late in the afternoon, the wind blowing fair, when we again put up sail, and steered for the landing of Granada. As we approached, we discovered hundreds of people on the shore and in the water, some in groups, and others in gay trappings dashing about on horseback,—a picture of activity and life. On the gray walls of the old castle we also discerned soldiers, their muskets glancing in the sun; and, anchored a little distance from the shore, was an odd-looking craft, in two pieces, resembling some awkward canal-boat, which we afterwards discovered had been built to receive the engine and boiler which we had seen in San Juan. In this rude, unwieldy affair, with infinite trouble, and after three weeks of toil, a party of some seventy-five outward-bound Californians had ascended the river and passed the lake to this place,—the pioneers on this line of transit.

In an hour after leaving Cubi, we cast anchor under the walls of the old castle. Our flag attracted immediate attention, and the people crowded upon the walls of the fort to look at us. Some called to Pedro, with a multitude of gesticulations; but the noise of the surf was so great that we could not make out what was said. The question which presented itself most strongly to us was, how are we going to land? for a surf like that of the ocean broke on the shore. We had a practical answer, however, very shortly. The cable was let out, so as to bring us as far in shore as was safe, and then three or four sailors leaped overboard, their heads and shoulders just appearing above the water, and invited us to get on! Get on what—where—how? Pedro explained that we were to put our feet on the shoulders, and seat ourselves on the head of one, and hold on with our hands to the hair of another, just in advance. After a number of awkward attempts, which excited great merriment, and at the expense of wetted feet, we finally got into position, and were duly deposited on shore, amidst a swarm of boys and women. Some of the former pressed forward, exclaiming “California,” or “goode by,” and then disappeared laughing amongst their companions. It was very evident that our countrymen had created a great sensation in their progress. Probably no equal number of strangers had passed through the country for a century.

Pedro slipped off his clothes, and holding them above his head, also came on shore, in ecstatic spirits to find the town standing and all safe. He dressed with great expedition, and with much dignity put himself in advance, to escort us to the town. Not at all sorry to get out of the crowd of gazers, we followed along a broad, well-beaten road, with elevated foot-paths on each side, in the direction of the city. The ascent seemed to be by terraces; the faces of which were paved with stone, and guarded by masonry, to protect them from the wasting action of the rains. Palms, plantains, orange and other tropical trees lined the road on either hand, shut in by a hedge composed of a species of cactus, bearing brilliant red flowers. We met troops of laughing girls, of every shade of complexion, from pure white to ebon black, fancifully attired, with water-jars on their heads, on their way to the lake. They were as straight as arrows, and seemed to have an infinite fund of animal spirits. Most of them passed us with a side glance, half of curiosity and half of mischief, while others more bold, turning full round, exclaimed gayly, “Adios, caballeros!” to which, we responded, “Adios, mi alma!” much to their apparent entertainment.

It was full a third of a mile to a steep terrace, ascending which we found ourselves amongst the neat cane huts composing the suburbs of the city, and in which reside the poorer portion of the population. Most of these, like those at San Carlos and San Juan, were built of canes and thatched with palm leaves or grass, while others were plastered with mud, and whitewashed. A clump of fruit-trees overshadowed each, and within the doors we could discover women spinning cotton with a little foot-wheel, or engaged in grinding corn for tortillas. On almost every house were one or two parrots screaming at each other, or at some awkward looking macaw, which waddled clumsily along the crown of the roof. Around all, dogs, chickens, and children mingled in perfect equality.

Beyond these huts commenced the city proper. The buildings were of adobes, on cut stone foundations, and roofed with tiles. The windows were all balconied, and protected on the outside by ornamental iron gratings, and within by painted shutters. They were, with scarcely an exception, of one high story. The principal entrances were by arched and often elaborately ornamented gateways, within which swung massive doors, themselves containing smaller ones, all opening into the courtyards. Besides these, there were, in some instances, other entrances, opening directly into the grand sala of the house. The eaves of all the houses project several feet beyond the walls, serving the double purpose of protecting the latter from the rains, and sheltering the foot passenger from the sun and the elements. The side or foot-walks were all raised one or two feet above the street, and flagged, but barely wide enough to admit persons meeting each other to pass. Towards the centre of the town some of the streets are paved, like those of our own cities, with this difference, that instead of a convex, they present a concave surface, so that the gutter is in the centre of the street.

As we progressed, we met a number of well-dressed people, of both sexes, who, seeing that we were strangers, bowed respectfully to us as we passed. Evidences of comfort, not to say elegance, now began to appear, and through an occasional open door we caught glimpses of sofas and easy chairs, and beds which a Sybarite might envy. Occasionally there were niches in the walls of the houses, in which were placed crosses, covered with faded flowers; in some instances the crosses were simply fastened to the walls, or planted at the corners of the streets. Advancing further, we found ourselves in the shadow of a large and massive stone building, with terraces, domes, and towers, half Moresque, and altogether an architectural incongruity. It appeared to be very ancient, and I stopped Pedro, who strode ahead with the gait of a conquering hero, to inquire what building it might be. He said it was the ancient and now abandoned convent of San Francisco, and showed us the gratings through which its former inmates had intercourse with the world, and pointed out the wooden cross in front, made of cedar from Lebanon. I do not know how long Pedro would have run on, had I not cut his story short, by saying I would hear the rest to-morrow. Just then a party of soldiers defiled across the street in front of us. They were bare-footed, and wore white pantaloons and jackets, with funny little, black caps, banded with metal, and having little, round, red cockades stuck saucily in front. A dashing young officer rode at their head, who lifted his hat gracefully to us. It was a scouting party just coming in. We followed them with our eyes down the street, and saw that sentinels were stationed at the corners, but two squares distant, and that the streets near the plaza were barricaded with adobes and timbers, with a single embrasure in the centre, through which a cannon looked grimly towards us. We now observed that soldiers were stationed on the walls of the convent, and in the towers of the parochial church, which had just come in view. It was evident that the government and military were on the alert, and prepared for any emergency. We found the streets more animated, and the houses better built, as we approached the centre of the town; women were moving hither and thither with trays, vegetables, bottles, and a hundred other commodities on their heads, and babies on their hips, and men with slouched hats, and breeches turned up to their knees, bare-footed, or wearing sandals, and carrying a large machete in their hands, were driving meek-looking horses, bearing loads, through the streets before them, or else with a long, iron-pointed pole, pricking on little compact oxen, fastened by the horns to long, heavy, awkward carts, with solid wheels cut from the mahogany tree. Amongst these flitted now and then a priest, with his black robe, preposterous bell-crowned, fur hat, and gaudy umbrella. There were quiet señoritas, also, moving slowly along, with a grace and dignity of motion seldom or never seen in our cities; and gay fellows on fiery little horses, who dashed at a break-neck pace through the streets. It was a novel scene, and we had hardly taken in its more striking features, when Pedro stopped before a large arched gateway, or portada, as it is called here, and told us this was the “Casa del Señor Don Frederico.” He unlatched the small door within the larger, and entering, we found ourselves in a broad corridor, completely surrounding a court, in which were growing a number of orange, marañon, and other fruit trees, fragrant bushes, and clumps of flowers. On one side was the store, filled with bales and boxes, and in front of it were huge scales for weighing commodities; while the sala, dining, and private rooms occupied the remaining two sides of the court. In one corner of the corridor were two or three movable desks, where Don Frederico’s children were engaged in their afternoon lessons with their tutor, a pale, intellectual looking young man; and just beyond, reclining in a hammock, was the portly form of Don Frederico himself. Pedro approached him, hat in hand, and with profound reverence, announced us. Our host immediately rose, and in due course I delivered my letters, which were honored in a spirit of the most enlarged and liberal hospitality. A part of a spacious and commodious house immediately opposite, which was occupied by the children of Don Frederico and their governess, was at once ordered to be prepared for our accommodation, while a couple of carts were despatched to the shore for our luggage. Our reception was so warm and cordial, that I felt at once perfectly at home, and was delighted with the neatness and comfort of everything around us. Don Frederico was born in Jamaica, but had resided for thirty years in the country, where he had married, become a citizen, and accumulated a large fortune. Entertaining the respect and confidence of all parties, he had passed safely through all the troubles to which the country had been subjected. He seemed very little alarmed at the threatened attack on the city, and felt confident that the insurgents would ultimately be put down. Still, unless reinforcements speedily arrived from the government, he anticipated that trouble might ensue, and perhaps an assault be attempted, because Somoza was as daring as he was unscrupulous. But even then it was only necessary to barricade the doors, and every house became a fortress. He had gone through several revolutions, securely locked in, eating and sleeping as usual. When the affair was over, he opened the portada again, and things went on as before.

As we had eaten scarcely anything during the day, our host gave us a cup of chocolate, pending the preparation of dinner. While thus engaged, we were surprised by the appearance of an officer bearing a note from the commandante of the Plaza, congratulating us upon our safe arrival, and very considerately proposing that some time should be named, when we were recovered from our fatigues, to enable him to pay his respects in person. He also placed a guard at our disposition, which I of course declined. Hardly had this messenger been despatched, before another, from the Prefect of the Department, made his appearance. The next day at noon was named for receptions, and meantime we instructed the portero or gatekeeper to report us to all visitors as engaged.

The evening passed delightfully with our host. It was a great relief to stretch one’s legs once more beneath a table spread like our own at home; a pleasure not slightly enhanced by the presence of entirely new and curious dishes, upon the merits of which we successively passed summary, and generally favorable, judgments. A gentle shower meanwhile pattered upon the tiled roofs, cooling and purifying the air; and we experienced, for the first time, the pleasures attending life in a well-appointed residence beneath the tropics. After the bell struck eight, we heard every five minutes the word “Alerte!” caught up in succession by the guards, in evidence that they were all awake, and keeping a bright lookout. Occasionally the “Quien vive?” or challenge of the sentinel stationed at the corner of the street below us, was given with an emphasis which fell startlingly upon our unaccustomed ears. Our host was used to it. We were really in the midst of war and “its alarums,” and felt all the better for it. We retired early to our new quarters, which consisted of a large sala, in which were a piano, mahogany tables and chairs, with sleeping apartments attached. Here we found that Ben, with an eye to all our wants, had arranged everything necessary to our comfort. Forty nights in close, narrow berths, in hammocks, and on the tops of boxes and trunks, had qualified us to enjoy the delightfully cool and scrupulously neat camas which that evening invited us to slumber. I bestowed myself in one without ceremony, and in less time than I am writing it, went to sleep, to dream of Somoza, storms on the lake, and a thousand incongruous matters. Nor did I wake until Ben, utterly renovated, and looking wonderfully genteel, came to announce that breakfast was ready. It was some seconds before I could comprehend clearly where I was; but once awake, I found myself thoroughly refreshed, and ready for any turn of events,—breakfast or revolutions.