Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands | Page 8

miserable wharf of Cruces.
CHAPTER III.
MY RECEPTION AT THE INDEPENDENT HOTEL--A CRUCES
TABLE D'HÔTE--LIFE IN CRUCES--AMUSEMENTS OF THE
CROWDS--A NOVEL FOUR-POST BED.
The sympathising reader, who very likely has been laughing heartily at
my late troubles, can fancy that I was looking forward with no little

pleasurable anticipation to reaching my brother's cheerful home at
Cruces. After the long night spent on board the wretched boat in my
stiff, clayey dress, and the hours of fasting, the warmth and good cheer
of the Independent Hotel could not fail to be acceptable. My brother
met me on the rickety wharf with the kindest welcome in his face,
although he did not attempt to conceal a smile at my forlorn appearance,
and giving the necessary instructions about my luggage, led the way at
once to his house, which was situated at the upper end of the street. A
capital site, he said, when the rest of the town was under water--which
agreeable variety occurred twice or thrice a year unexpectedly. On our
way, he rather damped my hopes by expressing his fears that he should
be unable to provide his sister with the accommodation he could wish.
For you see, he said, the crowd from Panama has just come in, meeting
your crowd from Navy Bay; and I shouldn't be at all surprised if very
many of them have no better bed than the store floors. But, despite this
warning, I was miserably unprepared for the reception that awaited me.
To be sure, I found Cruces as like Gorgona, in its dampness, dirt, and
confusion, as it well could be; but the crowd from the gold-fields of
California had just arrived, having made the journey from Panama on
mules, and the street was filled with motley groups in picturesque
variety of attire. The hotels were also full of them, while many lounged
in the verandahs after their day's journey. Rude, coarse gold-diggers, in
gay-coloured shirts, and long, serviceable boots, elbowed, in perfect
equality, keen Yankee speculators, as close shaven, neat, and clean on
the Isthmus of Panama as in the streets of New York or New Orleans.
The women alone kept aloof from each other, and well they might; for,
while a very few seemed not ashamed of their sex, it was somewhat
difficult to distinguish the majority from their male companions, save
by their bolder and more reckless voice and manner. I must say,
however, that many of them adopted male attire for the journey across
the Isthmus only, as it spared them many compliments which their
husbands were often disposed to resent, however flattering they might
be to their choice.
Through all these I pressed on, stiff, cold, and hungry, to the
Independent Hotel, eagerly anticipating the comforts which awaited me
there. At length we reached it. But, rest! warmth! comfort!--miserable

delusions! Picture to yourself, sympathising reader, a long, low hut,
built of rough, unhewn, unplaned logs, filled up with mud and split
bamboo; a long, sloping roof and a large verandah, already full of
visitors. And the interior: a long room, gaily hung with dirty calico, in
stripes of red and white; above it another room, in which the guests
slept, having the benefit of sharing in any orgies which might be going
on below them, through the broad chinks between the rough, irregular
planks which formed its floor. At the further end, a small corner,
partitioned roughly off, formed a bar, and around it were shelves laden
with stores for the travellers, while behind it was a little room used by
my brother as his private apartment; but three female travellers had
hired it for their own especial use for the night, paying the enormous
sum of £10 for so exclusive a luxury. At the entrance sat a black man,
taking toll of the comers-in, giving them in exchange for coin or
gold-dust (he had a rusty pair of scales to weigh the latter) a dirty ticket,
which guaranteed them supper, a night's lodging, and breakfast. I saw
all this very quickly, and turned round upon my brother in angry
despair.
"What am I to do? Why did you ever bring me to this place? See what a
state I am in--cold, hungry, and wretched. I want to wash, to change my
clothes, to eat, to----"
But poor Edward could only shrug his shoulders and shake his head, in
answer to my indignant remonstrances. At last he made room for me in
a corner of the crowded bar, set before me some food, and left me to
watch the strange life I had come to; and before long I soon forgot my
troubles in the novelty of my position.
The difference between the passengers to and from California was very
distinguishable. Those bound for the gold country were to