Anahuac | Page 9

kind. Sisal is a miserable little town,
standing on the shore, with a great salt-marsh behind it. It has a sort of
little jetty, which constitutes its claim to the title of _port_; and two or
three small merchant-vessels were lying there, taking in cargoes of
logwood (the staple product of the district), mahogany, hides, and
deerskins. The sight of these latter surprised us; but we found on
enquiry that numbers of deer as well as horned cattle inhabit the
thinly-peopled districts round the shores of the Mexican Gulf, and
flourish in spite of the burning climate, except when a year of drought
comes, which kills them off by thousands.
One possible article of export we examined as closely as opportunity
would allow, namely, the Indian inhabitants. There they are, in every
respect the right article for trade:--brown-skinned, incapable of
defending themselves, strong, healthy, and industrious; and the creeks
and mangrove-swamps of Cuba only three days' sail off. The
plantations and mines that want one hundred thousand men to bring
them into full work, and swallow aborigines, Chinese, and negroes
indifferently--anything that has a dark skin, and can be made to
work--would take these Yucatecos in any quantity, and pay well for
them. And once on a sugar-estate or down a mine, when their sham
registers are regularly made out, and the Governor has had his ounce of
gold apiece for passing them, and his subordinates their respective
rights, who shall get them out again, or even find them?
This idea struck us as we sat looking at the Indians hard at work,
loading and unloading; and finding an intelligent Spaniard, we fell to
talking with him. Indians had been carried off to Cuba, he said, but
very few, none since 1854, when two Englishmen came to the coast
with a schooner on pretence of trading, and succeeded in getting clear
off with a cargo of seventy-two natives on board. But being caught in a
heavy gale of wind, they put in for safety--of all places in the
world--into the British part of Belize. There some one found out what
their cargo consisted of, the vessel was seized, the Indians sent back,

and the two adventurers condemned to hard labour, one for four years,
the other for two and a half. In a place where the fatigue and exposure
of drill and mounting guard is death to a European soldier, this was
most likely a way of inflicting capital punishment, slow, but pretty
sure.[2]
When the Spaniards came to these countries, as soon as they had leisure
to ask themselves what could be the origin of the people they found
there, the answer came at once, "the lost tribes of Israel," of course.
And as we looked at these grave taciturn men, with their brown
complexions, bright eyes, and strikingly aquiline noses, it did not seem
strange that this belief should have been generally held, considering the
state of knowledge on such matters in those days. We English found
the ten tribes in the Red men of the north; Jews have written books in
Hebrew for their own people, to make known to them that the rest of
their race had been found in the mountains of Chili, retaining
unmistakable traces of their origin and conversing fluently in Hebrew;
and but lately they turned up, collected together and converted to
Christianity, on the shores of the Caspian. The last two theories have
their supporters at the present day. Crude as most of these ideas are,
one feels a good deal of interest in the first inquiry that set men
thinking seriously about the origin of races, and laid the foundation of
the science of ethnology.
Our return on board was a long affair, for there was a stiff breeze,
almost in our teeth; and our unwieldy craft was obliged to make tack
after tack before we could reach the steamer. Great Portuguese
men-of-war were floating about, waiting for prey; and we passed
through patches of stringy gulf-weed, trailing out into long ropes. The
water was hot, the thermometer standing at 84° when we dipped it over
the side.
On the morning of the 12th, when we went on deck, there was a grand
sight displayed before us. No shore visible, but a heavy bank of clouds
on the horizon; and, high above them, towering up into the sky, the
snowy summit of Orizaba, a hundred and fifty miles off.
Before noon, we are entering the harbour of Vera Cruz. The little island
and fort of San Juan de Ulúa just opposite the wharfs, the island of
Sacrificios a little farther to the left. A level line of city-wall along the
water's edge; and, visible above it, the flat roofs of the houses, and the

towers and cupolas of many churches. All grey