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awakening a new problem presented itself." Wherewith shall we be clothed?" I seized a couple of sacks, fixing one round my waist like a hunting tartan, and the other I slung round my shoulders for the plaid. Chatsworth was wrapped in swaddling clothes, a kind of winding sheet, and then the Consul emerged from an inner room, large and dignified, but -oh heavens !

"Don't jest!" he upbraided me. "Don't you see the predicament I am in? "

"Is-is that what you call it?" I stammered weakly, for laughter is exhausting. "I should have called it a girl's nightie."

If he hadn't been so big and dignified, I think I could have borne it, but this large person, looking rather fierce, and then the bull neck surrounded by embroidery and the nether portions likewise, with those two huge protruding legs-oh dear! But some one was coming in. Our messenger from Omoa entered the hut. "The trolley's "The trolley's ready, señores," he announced. "Heaven be praised for this diversion," I thought. I was rapidly getting cramp in the intestines, for I was weak with laughter.

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Ay, ay," I rejoined, as we swung past them.

At Omoa we were taken into the court-room, where the Commandante was to interview us. I detest ceremonies. They always seem so stupid, but, of course, they are a necessary evil. The Commandante sat on the platform in what I suppose was the judge's chair, and we were given seats in a row facing him.

We left the palaver to the supercargo, who spoke Spanish perfectly, and all went well until Chatsworth, impatient to get a move on, as he always put it, suddenly leant forward, and with his serious face earnest and intent, addressed the Commandante in his broken Spanish.

"Señor-er-have you-erhad any letter from the President of Honduras concerning us?"

The Commandante, who was by no means convinced of the We all walked down and veracity of this shipwreck busimounted the trolley, Chats- ness, had been trying hard to worth and the supercargo on decide through that guise of the handle in the front, the odd odd and ragged garments, Consul and I working against whether we were respectable them at the back. Valdo was people or mere beachcombers. seated ready to take his turn. His face now scanned us severeWe were still very cold, and ly. He evidently thought the got to work propelling our- whole thing was a hoax. The

situation was beginning to be funny, and unfortunately I am very susceptible to humour. I looked from one to the other. Chatsworth, with his face alert and his ears all ready to receive important news in a language with which he was only slightly acquainted, and then at the bucolic consternation on the face of that rotund anatomy which occupied the official chair. Tableaux vivants always get on my nerves, and I nearly exploded. I could see that the Commandante was about to pour forth his wrath upon us, thinking, and not unnaturally, that the whole thing was a jest, when suddenly his face changed.

66 Are you by any chance the geologist and engineer?" addressing Chatsworth and my self.

"Si, Señor Commandante," Chatsworth replied.

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'Why, yes, then I have received instructions from the President about you."

Needless to say, our troubles were over, and we were quickly taken to a store to buy clothes, from which we emerged clad, but all exactly alike-yellow trousers, red shirt, yellow jackets, slouch hats-toughs to the marrow-bone. The next day we went to look at the wreck. The Molinero was breaking up, but the sea was calm and a deep blue, whilst the sun was shining from a cloudless sky. Nature had left that callous night's handiwork, "as unrepenting Nature leaves her every act."

cargo were going on to Puerto Cortez by motor-boat, so parted company over a round of drinks.

Valdo had secured my attachecase containing seven hundred dollars, but we lost everything else-three cases of food, instruments, and all our gear. He also brought my suit-case, but it smelt like a dead man's chest, and so I abandoned it.

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Well, how shall we go back to Guatemala?" queried Chatsworth. "By land or sea?

"Oh, let's make our way over the land. I've had enough sea for the time being," I suggested.

"Good; then we'll travel across the frontier through the rivers, although I can assure you it's no joy-ride," Chatsworth warned me.

The next day Chatsworth, Valdo, and I started, but this time in a petrol trolley, for the district headquarters of the fruit company, at which we alighted about two hours later.

On arrival we ran up against one of the more junior authorities, a Chamberlain of the Lesser Gods, so to speak. Apparently we did not impress him at all favourably.

"May we see the manager ? I asked politely.

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He stood there for a few moments mute and eyeing us askance.

"H'm," he grunted suspiciously. "They 'phoned us from Omoa to expect some fellows who had been shipwrecked. The Consul and the super- Are you the boys? "

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moment some one hailed him, some one dressed in white, the manager.

"Have those shipwrecked gentlemen arrived yet, Jones? I have just had word from the Commandante at Omoa that they are coming."

"Yes," admitted Jones, but somewhat puzzled at the deference paid to us.

"Bring them along, then." And the best room was allotted to us.

Chatsworth knew the authorities of this great and hospitable organisation.

The next day we made an early start on the trolley again for Capancito, on the Rio Tinto River. The fruit company's

"Come along into my quar- local authority there assisted ters."

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us in obtaining a big dug-out canoe to take us down the river, but confided that it was a risky journey owing to sunken trees and the utter desolation of the bush, where, if overturned, no assistance could be rendered to us. "I personally would prefer to go by sea," he affirmed.

Nevertheless, thanking him for his assistance and fellowfeeling, we stepped into the unsteady craft and pushed off into the swift current, with one Indian at the bow and another at the stern. The three of us sat in the middle. The dense jungle soon closed in round us right up to the water's edge. We slipped rapidly past a little islet where a couple of alligators, sensing our presence, flopped lazily into the water and vanished.

It certainly was a gruesome spot. Round a bend in a graceful sweep, a sudden swerve to avoid this and pass that, then another stretch of rapid water. Sitting in these flat canoes is rather like riding a bicycle with your feet on the handles. The motion is smooth, I grant you, except for the jolts on sunken stumps of trees and other obstacles. A grating sound, and the canoe came slowly to rest in the middle of the river. A sunken tree had caught us. The Indians paddled furiously. A slight movement, and away we went again. We gathered speed, but a few seconds later, bump! and a dead stop. We were all nearly thrown out. Now we were wedged in firmly, and the current was slowly turning us round. We should be swamped. The Indian in the stern stepped out gingerly into the swift and deep river, balancing himself on the sunken tree in whose branches we were enmeshed. A push, a violent wobbling, and he slid himself gracefully on his stomach over the stern and into the canoe again. The front Indian was a mutt, and Chatsworth had managed during our stop to change places with him, and with the latter's ca' canny methods we made good progress, and arrived at the little Customs hut on the Honduras-Guatemalan frontier about a couple of hours later without further mishap. A big motor dug-out was waiting for us, and after partaking of a scratch meal we started off on the broad waters of the

Montagua, which the little Rio Tinto tributary joins at this point.

We were now going against the current, and making not more than four miles per hour. The river was in flood owing to the torrential rains of the past two months, and the bush on each side was entirely submerged, but we crept along by the side of it, and then the rain started-a steady downpour. The improvised awning was totally inadequate, and the water trickled down our necks. We could feel it travelling. It was no sentimental, but a most intimate journey those tiny liquid streams made to join the common puddle in our boots. We tried to make some hot tea, but the primus stove spat with such venom that we had to give it up. Everything now depended on the motor. If that gave out, we should be swung round by the current and either swamped or shot into that submerged and dense forest, a fit home for monkeys and birds, but not one spot where the son of man could lay his head.

However, with the exception of one short stop and a little backfiring, it kept going pretty steadily, and then the darkness came on. So far we had not seen a human creature-no canoe othing. The hours seemed like days lying there cramped and by now thoroughly saturated. A glimpse of moonlight which through the rain made the waters dance like a million gnomes, then a few humid stars, a patch of

our hats, we prepared to sleep
away the time. The ticket
collector would examine and
collect them at odd intervals,
and we lay there in that
blissful state, knowing at each
clipping that our journey was
progressing. At last we awak-
ened, and began to take an
interest in our fellow-travellers.
It moreover appeared that one
of them was taking a more
than ordinary interest in us.
A short thick-set man, very
broad and obviously immensely
powerful, armed with a strong
chin and a 45 automatic. He
kept on strolling past, giving
us sidelong
us sidelong and penetrating
glances which seemed to stab,
and then suddenly seated him-
self opposite us.

sky, no bigger than a calf-skin, our tickets in the ribbons of and total darkness once again. A little encouragement, however, for at least it showed that there still was a moon, and behind that blanket of clouds a starry firmament was shining. Chatting and dozing, the time passed dreamily by, some nine weary hours, when we turned, and slid softly and slowly on to a bank. Cayuga at last! We had reached the international railway between Guatemala City and Puerto Barrios. Wallowing through the soft mud we dragged our belongings, and a few minutes later entered the small station. The village seemed dead, but there were a few men working on the platform. No more passenger trains, but a freighter was expected. What luck! We asked no more questions, but just rolled up in a secluded part of the station, and when the freight train came steaming in, hopped into a van with all our trappings, and about two hours later we were back in Puerto Barrios, from whence we had started on that fatal journey.

We straggled along to the hotel, clambered into our bedroom through the window, and went to bed. The domestic who, without any knowledge of our arrival, happened to have occasion to enter the room in the morning, screamed, thinking it was an apparition. These people are superstitious, especially in the early hours.

We caught the train for Guatemala, and settled down for the long journey. Putting

If

"Well, I'll be blowed! it isn't you two Englishmen ! I thought you were a couple of downright hard cases. What the- ! Well, I never! " and slapped us on the leg with a thick and muscular hand. "Now what have you bhoys been up to?"

66

Shipwrecked," we grinned. "You don't say! I've been watching you sleeping beauties all the way. It's my job, isn't it?"

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