134 SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION 



lasted. Here Mrs. Leonard became a dentist, treating one cavernous 

 mouth after another with a tiny drop of clove oil to allay the raging 

 pains of toothache with which many of the good-natured blacks were 

 afflicted. In grateful return they brought gifts of garden produce and, 

 from a single large spring several miles to the west of town, drinking 

 water. This spring, situated in the midst of an otherwise arid region, 

 supported a curious vegetation. 



Our strenuous thirty-one-mile trek back to Jean Rabel. over dark 

 mountain trails, with four heavily loaded donkeys and a treacherous 

 mule, though tedious, was accomplished in good spirits. It would take 

 little effort, we thought, to go from there back to Port de Paix and to 

 safety for our collection of 6,000 specimens. The trip from Port de 

 Paix to Jean Rabel had required but four and one-half hours, but it 

 actually took us eighteen days to return. A twenty-foot launch had 

 Ijeen engaged, but owing to stormy weather it was several days before 

 it could put in to take us off. During a lull it came and we set out, but 

 only to be held up opposite dangerous cliffs, a few miles down the 

 coast, by a stalled motor. A tiny sail and occasional sculling eventu- 

 ally brought us back to Jean Rabel late that evening, but not without 

 moments of extreme danger. Satil was then sent on foot to Port de 

 Paix with a message to the Captain. After several days' work. 

 Lieutenant Whitehouse managed to get the motor started and again 

 we set out, this time in a high sea. Blanc, our pilot, warned us, " Wind 

 he no good. She blow like hell ! ", and so it did. Many prayers in- 

 duced the motor to sputter along vmtil we actually passed Bale L'Ecu, 

 the only place a boat could possibly find shelter along that twenty miles 

 of cliffs, when, after a sickly cough or two, the motor breathed its 

 last, leaving us close to treacherous rocks. With Mrs. Leonard at 

 the rudder Blanc and I were able to swing the boat around and, with 

 one oar set up for a sail, to row back to the bay. Here a Haitian 

 family, the sole survivors of a once prosperous village, made us at 

 home. Not only ourselves but our equipment and collections were 

 drenched. 



Our pilot was the next to be sent for help, the engine now being 

 totally beyond repair. Four days we waited, with only three cans of 

 beans and a few sweet potatoes left for supplies, re-drying our speci- 

 mens and searching the nearby cliffs for additional plant material, 

 until Blanc appeared with a bunch of huskies, well fortified with rum, 

 to row us home. This they did, taking the sea at its calmest, shortly 

 after moonrise. They rowed to the tune of their entire repertory of 

 Creole songs, very melodious if some of them were lewd. 



