But Chaymas dared those birds molest,
Then—sank beneath the ground!
And now, where happy souls had rest,
The lake of pitch is found.
Wild Warau myth of ages past—
To English readers told "at last!"p. 76
VI.
LEGEND OF ABORÉ
(The Warau Father of Inventions).
In those Warau traditions it moved our surprise,
That beneath their coarse veil of mythology lies
A lesson, which Christians deem holy and wise.
For those first legends show how mankind suffer woe,
Who their Maker forsake, in their own way to go,
And they differ in this from most others we know.
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Ere McLeod went away,
Our good teacher one day
Said, "I ask one more story, you must not say nay,
Of all Warau legends you are the narrator;
Pray tell of Aboré, your first navigator."
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So the old man his store of strange legends thought o'er,
And told this of which fragments had reached us before.
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"In this world, we know
That for weal, or for woe,
Good spirits and bad ever move to and fro;
And all our old men will most strongly avow
That some help, but more hinder, the suff'ring Warau."
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THE LEGEND. |
"Aboré, away!
No longer delay,
Nor, loitering, stay to waste here half the day.
Men must hunt for wild bees while the sun says they may."
p. 77
She who thus chid the youth was a fine, handsome dame,
Who from childhood had reared him.—Wowtáh was her name.
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Aboré the clever, Aboré the brave,
Had served her caprices like some household slave.
To follow her wishes the youth was content,
Although his keen mind on inventions was bent.
Bows, arrows, and such things he strove to improve;
But she was most jealous lest aught he should love
More than her, and from all his works sent him away,
To search the dense forests for bees, day by day.
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"Sometimes he had ventured resistance to try,
But Wowtáh had quelled that by a glance of her eye;
And he had to obey, though he could not tell why.
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That day through the forest quite gloomy he went,
To search out the honey for which he was sent,
When he saw, sitting down on the root of a tree,
A young Indian maid—fair and graceful was she.
"Oh, who can she be? I ne'er met her before;
She must be some stranger come down to our shore."
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He passed without notice, as good Indians do,
But she said, "Aboré! thy parents I knew,
And this day I am glad their tall son here to view.
But what canst thou see
In that huge hollow tree,
Where serpents and scorpions hiding may be?"
p. 78
"I search these old trees
For the nests of wild bees,
That I may with their honey my kinswoman please."
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"Aboré I the truth will appear by and by.
Wowtáh is a spirit. Such also am I!
We spirits assume any figure we please;
We change as we like, and we do it with ease.
Some appear as bush-hogs,
Some as jaguars or dogs;
While some, as large snakes, love the rivers and bogs:
But Wowtáh chose to be the great queen of the frogs.
By day or by night,
It was then her delight,
With a terrible croak, other creatures to fright.
(Sometimes to Waraus she would cause some alarm.)
A strange taste it was, though it did little harm."
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Then the kind spirit told him how, "when a young boy,
He was seen by Wowtáh, and became her chief joy;
How she, in the form of a woman, deceived
His parents, and was in their cottage received.
How his parents soon died, and no mortal knew how,
But Wowtáh was suspected by every Warau."
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She told him how "soon, from an infant in arms,
He had grown a tall youth through Wowtáh's mighty charms.
How, save to fetch honey, he scarce left her side,
And how he would soon have to make her his bride."
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Then, pondered Aboré, "This tale may be right;
When Wowtáh is much pleased she will croak with delight.
She croaks at the honey, she croaks upon me;
p. 79
But bride to Aboré she never will be!
Oh, tell me, kind spirit, and I will obey;
Shall I go back and slay her, or flee far away?"
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"O seek not to slay!
But heed well what I say,
'Twould be vain to shed blood, nor canst thou flee away,
Having grown 'neath her charm, still her slave thou must be,
Unless thou canst flee from her o'er the wide sea!"
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She paused. The young man wished her still to go on,
But when he looked round the good spirit was gone.
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The honey he found, and soon robbed the poor bees
(Where bees have no stings one can do that with ease),
Then returned to the house; where Wowtáh kindly spoke,
And welcomed him home with her most gentle croak.
As she had been cross in the morning, at night
She became doubly kind, just to put matters right.
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But the young man was gloomy, and wrapped up in thought;
He said to himself, "Into bondage I'm brought,
But with the first dawn will escape far away,
And if this bad spirit can find me—she may!"
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From morning till night then he marched through the wood,
But with the next daylight before him she stood!
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Again he would roam,
And again be brought home;
He could flee to no place whither she would not come;
And the moment he caught the stern glance of her eye,
He was forced to return, though he could not tell why.
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p. 80
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Since, baffled and shamed, he could not get away,
He made up his mind his hard mistress to slay;
And he felt no alarm
At the thought of the harm,
For the death of his parents his vengeance would warm.
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Then a cocorite palm he found, somewhat decayed;
It suited his purpose, and forthwith he made
A deep cut, that its fall might no more be delayed.
A small prop he then placed its great pressure to bear,
And removed that support when he saw her come there.
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It fell on her head,
And he thought she was dead,
Saying, "Now I am free from the life I have led!"
But she from the ground
Rose, uninjured and sound,
For she could not be killed, as Aboré then found.
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Almost in despair, he then thought on the day
When the good spirit said to him, "Seek not to slay!"
And then he remembered her words, "The wide sea;"
Oh, how can I cross it, that I may be free?"
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He thought on all ways which the Waraus then knew
To float on the deep, and found none that would do.
There were then logs of wood on which men used to go,
With their feet hanging down in the water below;
And rafts of light branches, which sometimes were made,
When over smooth streams they their children conveyed.
But rafts of light wood
Could by no means have stood,
Or danced over the waves of that great rolling flood.
And he saw that for his purpose they were not good.
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p. 81
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The half of a gourd he could readily float,
But its shape, he soon found, would not do for a boat.
>From an oblong seed-pod his best model he drew,
Which he strove to improve by all methods he knew.
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He formed a large vessel of wax—which, though drained
Of its former contents, in abundance remained;
He improved on its shape till our people might view
What they call "woibáka," but others "canoe."
Then his frail craft be tried
At the next "waterside;"
But his mistress came there, and severely she eyed—
Then broke it, and scattered the wax far and wide!
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Determined to go, though in waxen canoe,
(He dared not work in wood, which far better would do).
He sought a young cousin, whom "brother" we call,
And begged him to help him, whate'er might befall.
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"Aboré, with thee
I will brave the salt sea.
I should fear to remain, lest she next bewitch me!
We will work in the bush, where no Warau can see."
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They must have used then a stone chisel or axe,
To cut wood, to make paddles, or strengthen the wax.
Food, and gourds to hold water, they had to provide,
Though forced, for the time, their equipment to hide.
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Aboré then thought, "If Wowtáh chance to spy
Our flight, she will stay me with her evil eye.
I must prevent that, or, at least, I will try."
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p. 82
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So he took her a nest of fine honey to see;
Which was deep in the heart of a large hollow tree;
He'd before taken care a great wedge to prepare,
Which he drove tightly in, and Wowtáh was kept there,
Whose great love of sweets led her into the snare.
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"Now, now we must fly—
To look back is to spy,
And be fixed by the power of that evil eye!
Brother, off and away;
Let us launch while we may!
We must pull for our lives now by night and by day."
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"Ho, Waraus!" he then to his countrymen cried,
Who that waxen craft with astonishment eyed;
"This, this is the shape which your vessels must have,
With this they will readily dance o'er the wave.
Observe well this form, you will all find it good;
Make your woibákas so, friends; but make them of wood."
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Thus be quitted the strand
Of our poor Warau land.
Men and women, regretting, were ranged on the sand.
And thus they beheld, from the wild ocean shore,
Their last of Aboré—they saw him no more!
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Now, when he was gone,
Wowtáh, quite alone
In that huge hollow tree, began loudly to moan.
Some passers-by heard her, and, finding her plight,
p. 83
They would not let her out, for they said, "She's served right.
The young man of most brains
(For none like him remains)
She has driven away; let her die for her pains.
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"The things he could make,
Which this female would break!
>From her he was right his departure to take.
We have seen his canoe,
And know what he could do;
Which, but for her malice, he would have done too.
He said he knew how
To clothe every Warau;
Not in such strips of bark as we're forced to wear now,
With a few shells and teeth strung to make a small show;
But in fair woven fibres from shoulder to toe.
And now—how to make such, we never may know."
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No mercy was shown, though she still made her moan;
And she found by the silence the people were gone.
She knew that, as woman, she could not get free;
But near to her feet a small op'ning could see;
So, again as a frog, through that crevice crept she.
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That was long, long ago;
How long none can know;
But ever since that she has gone to and fro.
Of late in the swamps, o'er our evening fire,
We talked of Aboré, when nigher and nigher
She came. We all knew by the sad croak she gave;
And we said, "She still grieves for her runaway slave!"
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p. 84
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SEQUEL TO THE ANCIENT LEGEND. |
We offered our thanks to our old Warau friend,
And thought that his story there came to an end—
As doubtless it did, in the ages long past,
But he said, "Waraus heard of Aboré at last.
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"He went o'er a smooth sea; and, ere long, be found land—
Some island—and landed upon that new strand.
There, discarding the wax, he a craft made of wood,
And visited places, just as he thought good.
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At last he arrived where white people abound,
Whom poor and distressed above all men be found.
They did support life, he could hardly tell how;
Far more wretched were they than the lowest Warau.
When he saw them his heart with compassion flowed o'er,
And he said, 'I will make my abode on this shore.'"
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So he made up his mind the white people to raise;
And the way be has done so deserves their best praise.
They, squalid and bare,
Had no garments to wear,
Till taught by Aboré good clothes to prepare.
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He taught the white people to weave and to sew,
To be skilful in wood and in iron, we know,
From a nail to a gun.—
(Ah, you may think it fun—
But you owe to Aboré the things you have done!)
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p. 85
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And to this pray attend!
To the whole world a friend,
The good things he had made in large ships he would send.
He thus obtained wealth, though he cared not for pelf,
But strove to help others while helping himself.
He improved the rough plan of his first waxen boat
To the huge ships we see now—great monsters afloat—
Which bring you all things, from a pin to a coat.
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'Tis said that Aboré still lives, though no tree
That grows in our woods can be older than he.
The magical power which, when he was young,
That spirit imparted, has made his life long,
If he were to return she would claim him again;
So he's forced in the white people's land to remain.
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Yet presents he used to send every year;
>From the time the Dutch told him they found Waraus here.
Those presents they gave in their colony's name;
That was nonsense! We knew from Aboré they came.
But they all at once ceased, and some must be to blame.
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We think that in Georgetown they still are received;
That he would cease to send them cannot be believed.
Knife and gun, ammunition, a cutlass and hoe,
Rum, needles and pins, with some coarse calico,
Were once freely given to each. Alas! now
There is payment demanded from ev'ry Warau!"
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The presents here mentioned, as every year made,
Were the price of assistance to Indians paid.
When slavery ceas'd their help was not required,
So the custom of annual "presents" expired.
p. 86
No loss to the Indians, but great moral gain;
For now they must work for the goods they obtain.
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Such opinion may be
Held by you or by me,
But with that the old Warau would never agree.
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We gave him some clothes; he had earned them full well;
Having come six days' voyage these legends to tell.
And we strove in his language Christ's words to explain,
That some better gain
He might thereby obtain;
But in Warau traditions he chose to remain.
He returned to his place near the Barima's shore,
And we saw old "McLeod" at our missions no more.
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The creed of his race he had shown in these tales;
Shown, too, how their faith in strange spirits prevails.
In their service alone the Waraus used to live;
But now to their Maker due worship they give.
Though the bones which we found
In the cannibal mound
Made them think Waramuri a weird haunted ground;
Now around that huge heap Christian Waraus abound.
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And civilisation first showed itself there,
In their women's neat hair and the clothing they wear.
For much better off now,
As all races allow,
Than his forefathers were, is the Christian Warau.
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Next
Footnotes
p. 52
1 The mauritia (or morische) palm, called by the Arawâks "ité."
p. 53
1 Warau—pronounce the latter syllable like "row," a quarrel.
p. 75
1 C. Kingsley's "At Last," chap. viii. One can imagine the delight with which the author of "Westward Ho," with the tropical scenery he had long read and dreamed of in all its glorious reality around him, must have listened to the legend of "the humming birds"—the sweetest myth of the western world.
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