He finally yielded, and told us to
return in one hour.
So we walked around the little deserted town. I could think only
of the breakfast we were to have in the old man's casa. And it
met and exceeded our wildest anticipations, for, just fancy! We
were served with a delicious boullion, then chicken, perfectly
cooked, accompanied by some dish flavored with chile verde,
creamy biscuit, fresh butter, and golden coffee with milk. There
were three or four women and several officers in the party, and
we had a merry breakfast. We paid the old man generously, thanked
him warmly, and returned to the ship, fortified to endure the
sight of all the green ducks that came out of the lower hold.
You must remember that the "Newbern" was a small and old
propeller, not fitted up for passengers, and in those days the
great refrigerating plants were unheard of. The women who go to
the Philippines on our great transports of to-day cannot realize
and will scarcely believe what we endured for lack of ice and of
good food on that never-to-be-forgotten voyage down the Pacific
coast and up the Gulf of California in the summer of 1874.
CHAPTER V
THE SLUE
At last, after a voyage of thirteen days, we came to anchor a
mile or so off Port Isabel, at the mouth of the Colorado River.
A narrow but deep slue runs up into the desert land, on the east
side of the river's mouth, and provides a harbor of refuge for
the flat-bottomed stern-wheelers which meet the ocean steamers at
this point. Hurricanes are prevalent at this season in the Gulf
of California, but we had been fortunate in not meeting with any
on the voyage. The wind now freshened, however, and beat the
waves into angry foam, and there we lay for three days on the
"Newbern," off Port Isabel, before the sea was calm enough for
the transfer of troops and baggage to the lighters.
This was excessively disagreeable. The wind was like a breath
from a furnace; it seemed as though the days would never end, and
the wind never stop blowing. Jack's official diary says: "One
soldier died to-day."
Finally, on the fourth day, the wind abated, and the transfer was
begun. We boarded the river steamboat "Cocopah," towing a barge
loaded with soldiers, and steamed away for the slue. I must say
that we welcomed the change with delight. Towards the end of the
afternoon the "Cocopah" put her nose to the shore and tied up. It
seemed strange not to see pier sand docks, nor even piles to tie
to. Anchors were taken ashore and the boat secured in that
manner: there being no trees of sufficient size to make fast to.
