502 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



A UTTI,E MOTHKR AND HKR UTTXKR 

 CHARGE 



Dolores was somewhat shocked but rather 

 pleased by the photographer's suggestion that 

 he picture her at her bath. 



and as long as we were in sight he kept 

 two round, unwinking black eyes fixed 

 on us. So might a small American boy 

 watch his first hippopotamus. 



We cruised along the coast, here and 

 there, taking on more bananas, which 

 were brought on pack-mules from the 

 hidden plantations of the interior. At last 

 night came and the Sin N ombre pulled 

 up her mud-hook for the run to the old 

 port of San Bias, Nayarit, where we were 

 to be put on shore. 



AT SAN BLAS, WHERE CORTEZ BUII/f 

 HIS SHIPS 



Once Cortez built ships here to explore 

 the Pacific coast. Later on the high 

 galleons from the Philippines entered 

 San Bias with silks for the court of Spain. 

 Now even the little coastal boats must use 

 care in entering its sand-filled channels. 



The dugout was towed behind, for it 

 was to be used in putting us on shore. 



It was a black midnight when the sturdy 



thumping of the Sin Nombre's engine 

 was stilled and we were routed out from 

 beneath our sail on the roof of the engine- 

 house. The dugout was pulled alongside 

 and we crawled in. 



The capo was asleep in the stern, his 

 dark blanket wrapped about his head. 

 In the how slept the second brother, his 

 wide hat tilted over his eyes, his blanket 

 around his shoulders. 



In the waist sat the littlest Indian, an 

 absurd diminutive of his brothers, even 

 to the little knife in his wide sash. 



LAXDKD PICKABACK 



The moon was overcast by black, slid- 

 ing clouds. We could barely make out 

 the ragged tops of islands against the 

 heavy sky. Long before we could see the 

 white foam of the breakers, we could 

 hear their roar as they charged the sand- 

 choked entrance to the little bay. 



And then the littlest Indian came into 

 his own. He laughed. Bless his heart, 

 how that boy laughed and chattered ! He 

 must have been tired to exhaustion, but 

 his voice rang bird-like. The others re- 

 covered from a midnight grumpiness and 

 in turn began to laugh and talk. Now 

 and then the capo interrupted by a sharp 

 order. 



Several times the canoe was checked, 

 until at last it was beached in the soft 

 sand on the crest of a breaking wave. I 

 climbed aboard the capo's shoulders to 

 ride a dry pickaback to land and, as the 

 capo was a slender Indian, I drove my 

 unfortunate mount into the sand like a 

 log under a pile-driver. 



The littlest Indian twittered until the 

 capo gasped with laughter and almost 

 spilled us both in the frothy spume. 



There w T ere millions of hot-footed gnats 

 in that sand, and they stung us almost to 

 madness. San Bias bears a villainous 

 reputation for the variety and venom of 

 its insect pests, even on the west coast. 



We danced and slapped and fumed 

 while our dandy Indians undressed them- 

 selves in the darkness that was made vis- 

 ible by the reflected light of the hidden 

 moon on the glancing waters of the bay. 

 Then they redressed in clothes of gala 

 white, which they had brought with them 

 from their village of Santa Cruz for the 

 entry into the big town. 



The capo brought out a silver-handled 



