The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan by L. Frank Baum

In the gray of the morning I stood with my friends beside the rail, peering anxiously at a dim black line that marked the Yucatan coast. In order to avoid the islands and settled coast districts of the north-east we had approached Yucatan by way of the Mosquito Coast and British Honduras, expecting to sight the country in its wildest and most barbarous district.

Chaka, who had resided as a boy in the interior but had made several trips to the sea, was uncertain whether he would recognize the Bay of Mopa from the water or not. It was from the bay I have mentioned, which lay in the hostile Mopane territory, that the trail led into the country of the Itzaex-the only trail Chaka knew of and therefore the trail we must follow.

Although waging a fierce warfare with neighboring tribes the Mopanes were accustomed to deal arbitrarily with ships and expeditions from Honduras which came to trade for the enormous green turtles that abounded on their coast. This fact we relied upon to shield us from immediate hostilities.

As the sun slowly rose and dissolved the gray shades from the morning sky we found ourselves quite near to a wild but very attractive shore. The sandy beach was shelving and touched the sea at a level. Back of the beach began the scrub-low bushes somewhat resembling our sage-brush, but set closer together. Beyond the scrub rose the great forests of logwood and mahogany, covering the land as far as the eye could reach.

Chaka told us the villages of the Mopanes were all within the forest's edge, but by eight o'clock, when we came close enough to view the scene distinctly, we were enabled to see statuesque bronze figures dotting the shore here and there. Doubtless these were sentinels, set to watch us and see where we landed.

"Not here! " exclaimed the Maya, shaking his head.

We swung around and steamed slowly north, keeping sharp watch for hidden shoals and rocks, as no map in my father's collection was able to guide a mariner in these practically unknown waters. Small bays and indentations were numerous, and each of these Chaka scanned with thoughtful care. Once, indeed, he decided he had found the right place, and we ventured into a pretty bay and lay to while our guide carefully considered the landmarks. But the native, although slow to form conclusions, had a positive nature and was not to be deceived by minor appearances.

"Not here, Cap'n Steele," he said again, and we stood out and continued on our way, hugging the coast as closely as we dared in order to give Chaka a better view.

We passed the whole day in this tedious search and it was almost evening when the Maya gave a cry of delight and raised his arms to indicate that he had sighted the right haven. It was more a bight than a bay, and my father looked grave at the huge rocks scattered a full quarter of a mile from the shore line.

Natives watched us here, as everywhere, and when we lay to a score of dugouts were pushed into the water and filled with Indians who soon swarmed along our side. Chaka now kept out of their sight, fearing to be recognized, and Allerton called to one lot of natives which showed an impudent disposition to board us, to keep off or take the consequences. They were astonished to hear a white man speak the Maya tongue and declared they wanted to come aboard to "trade. " Allerton replied that we had nothing to trade and would proceed at once on our way north.

This did not seem to satisfy them. They were all copper-colored, athletic fellows, quick and nervous in action and with jet-black eyes which glinted fiercely. They seemed utterly unafraid of us and one boat load of four made a sudden dash up our side, leaping to seize a rope ladder we had left swaying from the bulwarks and climbing it with the agility of cats.

Ned Britton happened to be watching that spot and the burly mate grasped the first native by an arm, swung him clear of the side, and then hurled him bodily at the others following. All four went down with a rush, disappearing below the surface of the placid water, while their comrades screamed an angry defiance and sent a volley of small slender darts-which reminded me of arrows-aimed at every head showing above the side. We had no trouble in dodging them, but Allerton warned us they were poisoned and we did not relish such an attack.

Captain Steele had already rung to go ahead and we gathered way and moved from our dangerous position as quickly as possible. The natives Ned had dislodged scrambled into their boat again, but the fellow he had seized seemed to have a broken arm and howled lustily as his comrades dragged him aboard.

The Mopanes showed no disposition to follow us and as we gained the open sea we observed them paddling back to the shore.

"A pretty reception, I must say! " growled Archie in disgust. "So that's the sort of vermin we're supposed to tackle, is it?"

"I imagine this is only a sample of their peculiarities," mused Joe.

"Mopanes bad Indians," admitted Chaka, who had now come on deck again.

"Well, I suppose we must take them as we find them," I rejoined, with a sigh. "The trouble seems to be that no one has taken pains to civilize them."

"What's our plan now, sir? " asked Ned, turning to Allerton.

"We'll stand out until darkness comes on, and then return to the bay with all lights out and disembark as silently as possible," was the answer. "We rely on the usual native custom of ‘sleeping nights and fighting days' to shield us from observation. We have now created the impression that we have sailed away for good, and as ships are a rarity in this latitude the Mopanes will all retire to their villages back in the forest and go to bed. That will give us a chance to land, make our preparation and get a good start on the secret trail leading to the Itzaex country."