*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2294904-Never-ask-a-miner-for-directions
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Short Story · Travel · #2294904
When two canoes meet, the directions provided are less than helpful. 838 words long.
The scene was unlike any Jacob had ever witnessed. The two canoes facing off in the middle of the wide Chagres river were simple in design, long and low-lying, they looked to have been hollowed out of the native cedar trees. These gigantic red giants lined the river and together with the other basswood and basalm trees created a thick jungle that was lush and ominous. Here on the river, however, none of that mattered for the men in the canoes.

In each canoe you had about ten men. On the ends sat two native men, dressed in only their colorful loincloths and beaded accessories draped over their shoulders and holding their long black hair out of their faces. Amont the rest of the long vessel, were eight other men and their various baggage. The stark differences lay in what direction they were headed. Going upriver, the foreigners were mostly of European descent, but their clothes were decent, and they were nicely groomed. If it weren't for the cargo stacked high, you would think they were just on a lovey cruise for the afternoon. Headed downstream, the men were much more rugged. Their clothes were stained, torn or just plain worn out and on their heads they wore black brimmed hats. Attached to their belts all of them had a large-bladed knife and in their pants band most of them carried a pistol. They didn't have much, if any luggage, but perhaps a bag or two. Jacob was headed downstream.

The native guiding the boats in their respective directions tended to stay silent except to call back and forth to each other in their native language. Jacob didn't know what it was, but it wasn't the Spanish that he had started to recognize from his time in the goldfields and among the California missions. The miners they were ferrying also tended to stay quiet. It had been a long journey for them all, whether successful or not, and they were eager to be home with their families once more. While Jacob had only been gone for two years, some of the others had been gone since gold rush began five years ago in 1849.

Suddenly the silence was broken when a shout from the upcoming canoe rang out to them. "Excuse me chaps," One of the well-dressed gentlemen called. The canoes were about 10 feet apart and with the racket of the wildlife all around them, the man almost had to shout to be heard. "Can you tell us the way to Gorgona?" Jacob and his fellow passengers looked at each other in incredulity. Then they glanced at their guides who remained silent but had stopped rowing at the interruption. It was well known that Gorgona was just a straight shot down the river and it couldn't be missed.

"What, are you deaf?" Came a shout from another man from the canoe. "Are you so dirty that your ears are clogged? Or do you not speak English?"

Smirking, the man next to Jacob shouted back, "Sure, we know the way! It was a trek, but we eventually got the directions from the Parrot flying overhead, who got them from the guanos in the trees who heard them from the lurking alligators."

This wiped the jeers right off the fancified faces of the other canoe. "What?" They exclaimed. "How did you get directions from parrots?"

"Wouldn't you know, they just told us. Everyone knows that they can talk."

"How is that possible?" The well-dressed gentleman asked in disbelief.

"Like this," one of the other men in Jacob's boat said as he jumped to his feet and started to flap his arms and cawed like a rabid bird. The canoe rocked back and forth and the rest of the men tried to keep it from tipping it over, fighting to keep from laughing at the sight of this filthy, long-bearded man, whose suspenders had long since worn out so his pants were dipping dangerously low on his waist and his shirt flapping open with his flying attempts from all the missing buttons.

"But, but, how did the parrot know the way?"

Another man joined the cawing hooligan. "He was told by the guano, who was able to taste the alligators' words with his tongue and conveyed the message by thumping out the message with his tail." At this, the newcomer bent over, shaking his rear end as though swinging his tail and sticking his tongue out repeatedly. The rest of the journeymen continued to struggle to keep the canoe upright.

The other canoe just looked flabbergasted, while the natives looked quite amused. Another man jumped up and shouted: "And do you know how the alligator knew?"

"No, please tell us, we are so lost and have been traveling for days."

"They jumped out of the river and attacked our canoe. Why do think our clothes look like this?" Jacob chimed in and started howling in laughter. Now the natives of his boat continued their paddling, leaving the befuddled greenhorns behind.
© Copyright 2023 Barbara Swihart Miller (bsmiller at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2294904-Never-ask-a-miner-for-directions