Our search for a wilderness : $b An account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British GuianaBeebe, William
History
Our search for a wilderness : $b An account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British Guiana
Beebe, William
Birds -- South America; Guyana -- Description and travel; Natural history -- South America; Venezuela -- Description and travel
Maestro in his patched and faded shirt, with sleeves rolled to the
elbow, still more patched trousers rolled to the knee, bare as to feet,
a crownless hat on one side of his head, an ancient and odoriferous
pipe hanging from his mouth, a big machete at his side, in the capacity
of cook would make the most shiftless housekeeper gasp with horror.
I often wondered why he so persistently declared himself _cocinero_,
not _marinero_, for he could hardly have been a greater failure in
any calling than he was in that of chef. Among the most valued of my
memories are some mental pictures of Maestro, which, while I live, I can
never manage to forget.
[Illustration: FIG. 42. CAPTAIN TRUXILLO PADDLING US UP THE GUARAPICHE
PAST CAÑO COLORADO.]
I often shut my eyes and see him with streaming eyes stirring some
fearful concoction over the little stove; or again on his knees mixing
dough for the leaden dumplings to be boiled in the pig-tail stew which
appeared at every meal. We so often wished we had brought graham flour.
White flour does show the dirt so! Still another picture is Maestro
washing the table-cloth. This was a piece of oilcloth, originally white,
and Maestro’s method of washing it was to spread it on the deck, pour
water over it, dance upon it in his bare feet, to the accompaniment
of some weird chant, and finally hang it on the rail to dry! No doubt
after this proceeding he felt as self satisfied as the most pompous and
well-trained English butler.
In justice, I must say that Maestro did make one or two edible dishes;
he could boil the native vegetables, yam, tania and kuch-kuch and he made
very good cornmeal mush. Then after a long, happy day on the caños we
were always hungry, and happiness and honest hunger overlook a multitude
of sins. Besides, whatever was lacking in Maestro’s bill of fare was
compensated by the dried soups, cocoa, crackers and preserves from our
own stores. So we managed one way or another to keep the wolf from the
door, or perhaps more appropriately I should say, the crocodile from the
companionway.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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