A BUN GO. 



35 



bungo out of the water, shouting all the time like spirits 

 of darkness let loose. The pilot sat quietly at the helm, 

 without speaking, and dark as it was, at times I saw a 

 smile steal over his face at wild sallies of the boatmen. 

 Again they began rowing furiously as before, and sud- 

 denly one of the sweeps broke and the oarsman fell 

 backward. The bungo was run up among the trees, and 

 the men climbed ashore by the branches. The blows 

 of machetes, mingled with shouts and laughter, rang 

 through the woods ; they were the noisiest party I met 

 in Central America. In the dark they cut down a 

 dozen saplings before they found what they wanted, and 

 in about an hour returned, and the shattered awning 

 was refitted. By this time they were more sobered ; 

 and taking their sweeps, we moved silently down the 

 dark river until one o'clock, when we came to anchor. 



The bungo was about forty feet long, dug out of the 

 trunk of a Guanacaste tree, about five feet wide and 

 nearly as deep, with the bottom round, and a toldo or 

 awning, round like the top of a market- wagon, made of 

 matting and bulls' hides, covered ten feet of the stern. 

 Beyond were six seats across the sides of the bungo for 

 the oarsmen. The whole front was necessary for the 

 men, and in reality I had only the part occupied by the 

 awning, where, with the mules as tenants in common, 

 there were too many of us. They stood abreast, with 

 their halters tied to the first bench. The bottom was 

 rounding, and gave them an unsteady foothold ; and 

 when the boat heaved they had a scramble to preserve 

 their centre of gravity. The space between their heels 

 and the end of the log or stern of the bungo was my 

 sleeping-room. Nicolas was afraid to pass between the 

 mules to get a place among the men, and he could not 

 climb over the awning. I had their heads tethered 



