Six Days on the
Hurricane Deck
of a Mule

An Account of a Journey made on
Mule-back in Honduras, C.A.
in August, 1891

BY

Almira Stillwell Cole

1893
The Knickerbocker Press
New York

This book was published after the death of the writer, for distribution among her relatives and friends

SIX DAYS ON THE HURRICANE DECK OF A MULE.

Last spring I almost learned to ride a bicycle.

Those who have had a similar struggle will correctly estimate the exact value of that word almost. I was laboring under peculiar difficulties, for I was a whilom inmate of one of those sacred institutions—a young ladies' boarding-school,—where any infringement upon the Spartan law of dignity would have been looked upon as less pardonable than a simultaneous indulgence in the seven deadly sins.

My agony of mind and body under those circumstances can be better imagined than described. Methought life held no more painful experience, but how impossible it is to gauge endurance and classify suffering I have since learned.

When, later on, I announced to my friends and relatives my intention of taking up a residence in the interior of Honduras for the ensuing five years, I was fairly overwhelmed by the storm of exclamations, reproaches, dire predictions, and tearful expostulations, none of which shook my resolution.

I assured them that the trip was simple enough,—by steamer from New York to Colon, thence by rail to Panama, where a steamer was taken to Amapala, and then over the mountain on mule-back.

One friend in vain tried to move me by drawing dreadful pictures of life with a ruined complexion; another assured me I was going to bury myself among barbarians; a third pointed out the miseries of sea-sickness and the certainty of death from some fever which would be sure to attack me at once, and so ad infinitum.

I bore it all as meekly as possible and with outward patience, but inward raging. I told them I cared more for the complexion of my life than the amount of sun-kissed pigment my skin contained; I would civilize all the barbarians I found; and since others had endured sea-sickness so could I.

However, at last a teasing cousin did hit upon a fact, and a stubborn one, which had tormented me considerably—that mule I was to ride. He assured me that had I ever attempted to ride a wheel I would have some idea of what was in store for me. With a sinking heart but unabashed countenance, I smiled a superior sort of smile and replied that I had learned to ride a wheel.

"Well, a mule is worse," was the reply that somewhat staggered me.

Then I did not believe him, but now I think he must be divinely gifted with the spirit of prophecy.

Sailing day came, and with all the assurance and independence of a typical American young woman, I stood on the deck of a steamer alone, and watched the familiar faces of friends fade into the distance.

Sixteen days later, as I was about to go ashore in Honduras, I audibly wondered why any one should find the journey anything but delightful. Every moment had been an enjoyable one, and I had entirely escaped one of the foretold horrors. Imagine the shadow that crept across the sunshine of my mental vision, when the Captain of the ship I was leaving so regretfully remarked, with a wise and mysterious shake of his head:

"Perhaps you will see why, when you have been for six days on the hurricane deck of a mule."

A youth, considerably my junior, whom I had known well as a schoolboy in the States, had come with two men-servants and six mules to meet me. As I stood on shore and watched the vessel steam out of the harbor, I did almost feel as if I had had my final contact with civilization.

We went at once to the hotel, which I thought the dirtiest place I had ever seen. Since then I have learned to discriminate nicely between different degrees of filth.

Here we were obliged to remain for two days, for Amapala is on an island, and one has to be transported to the mainland before the journey can be continued. The little steamer does not run regularly, as mañana is the same as to-day, if not preferable, to the native of the coast.

We could hardly believe the evidence of our senses when finally we were plowing our way over the bay toward our desired destination, some two and a half hours after the proprietors of the launch had assured us they would be ready to start.

In all the heat of the tropical noonday sun we came to a stop two hours later, at La Brea, and alighted upon a sandy beach, back of which were a store-house and a few small mud cabins. In the office of the store-house we ate our lunch, and shortly after word came to me that the fated moment for mounting had arrived.

With a heart beating with apprehension I went outside where I found quite a group of curious natives, while in the midst stood the antagonist with whom I was to wage such an unaccustomed warfare—a gentle-looking beast, gayly trapped out in a handsome saddle of red and tan leather, under which was a corresponding velvet cloth.

With a degree of satisfaction somewhat reassuring, I noted that she was large enough to carry me and yet so small that a fall from her height could not be wholly fatal. What I further noticed and was troubled by was the fact that the saddle was made for the right side instead of the left, and then it was borne in upon my mind, that the hope that a slight experience on horseback ten years before would prove of some service to me now, was a perfectly futile one. I was about to embark upon an unknown sea, with no chart to guide me in its navigation.

Meanwhile a low chair had been brought, upon which I climbed preparatory to making the further ascent. Just then my courage was at such a low ebb that to take the next step seemed beyond me.

"Vincent, I can't do it."

"You must," was the unsympathizing reply, and seeing me still hesitate, he added: "You can't walk, and this is the only way."

That settled it. In sheer despair, I set my teeth together, shut my eyes and jumped, remembering that "whatever goes up must come down"—somewhere, and I did not much care where.

Even yet I retain more than a vivid memory of the astonishment I felt when I discovered that I had actually alighted in the right place. My stock of self-esteem has been on the increase ever since.

In a few moments we started merrily off, I soon becoming used to the motion, and rather liking it. If only my cousin could have witnessed my triumph, my happiness would have been complete.

The road lay over a velvety plain, and for a couple of hours we rode on, the only incident at all exciting, being an effort on my part to leave my head perched upon a heavy limb of an overhanging tree. This danger past, no new danger