The Naturalist On The River Amazons Part 12

We had now arrived at the end of the navigation for large vessels--a distance from the mouth of the river, according to our rough calculation, of a little over seventy miles. I found it the better course now to send Jose and one of the men forward in the montaria with John Aracu, and remain myself with the cuberta and our other man to collect in the neighbouring forest. We stayed here four days, one of the boats returning each evening from the upper river with the produce of the day's chase of my huntsmen. I obtained six good specimens of the hyacinthine macaw, besides a number of smaller birds, a species new to me of Guariba, or howling monkey, and two large lizards. The Guariba was an old male, with the hair much worn from his rump and breast, and his body disfigured with large tumours made by the grubs of a gad-fly (Oestrus). The back and tail were of a ruddy-brown colour, the limbs, and underside of the body, black. The men ascended to the second falls, which form a cataract several feet in height, about fifteen miles beyond our anchorage. The macaws were found feeding in small flocks on the fruit of the Tuc.u.ma palm (Astryocaryum Tuc.u.ma), the excessively hard nut of which is crushed into pulp by the powerful beak of the bird. I found the craws of all the specimens filled with the sour paste to which the stone-like fruit had been reduced. Each bird took me three hours to skin, and I was occupied with these and my other specimens every evening until midnight, after my own laborious day's hunt-- working on the roof of my cabin by the light of a lamp.

The place where the cuberta was anch.o.r.ed formed a little rocky haven, with a sandy beach sloping to the forest, within which were the ruins of an Indian Maloca, and a large weed-grown plantation. The port swarmed with fishes, whose movements it was amusing to watch in the deep, clear water. The most abundant were the Piranhas. One species, which varied in length, according to age, from two to six inches, but was recognisable by a black spot at the root of the tail, was always the quickest to seize any fragment of meat thrown into the water. When nothing was being given to them, a few only were seen scattered about, their heads all turned one way in an att.i.tude of expectation; but as soon as any offal fell from the canoe, the water was blackened with the shoals that rushed instantaneously to the spot. Those who did not succeed in securing a fragment, fought with those who had been more successful, and many contrived to steal the coveted morsels from their mouths. When a bee or fly pa.s.sed through the air near the water, they all simultaneously darted towards it as if roused by an electric shock. Sometimes a larger fish approached, and then the host of Piranhas took the alarm and flashed out of sight.

The population of the water varied from day to day. Once a small shoal of a handsome black-banded fish, called by the natives Acara bandeira (Mesonauta insignis, of Gunther), came gliding through at a slow pace, forming a very pretty sight. At another time, little troops of needle-fish, eel-like animals with excessively long and slender toothed jaws, sailed through the field, scattering before them the hosts of smaller fry; and at the rear of the needle-fishes, a strangely-shaped kind called Sarapo came wriggling along, one by one, with a slow movement. We caught with hook and line, baited with pieces of banana, several Curimata (Anodus Amazonum), a most delicious fish, which, next to the Tucunare and the Pescada, is most esteemed by the natives.

The Curimata seemed to prefer the middle of the stream, where the waters were agitated beneath the little cascade.

The weather was now settled and dry, and the river sank rapidly-- six inches in twenty-four hours. In this remote and solitary spot I can say that I heard for the first and almost the only time the uproar of life at sunset, which Humboldt describes as having witnessed towards the sources of the Orinoco, but which is unknown on the banks of the larger rivers. The noises of animals began just as the sun sank behind the trees after a sweltering afternoon, leaving the sky above of the intensest shade of blue.

Two flocks of howling monkeys, one close to our canoe, the other about a furlong distant, filled the echoing forests with their dismal roaring. Troops of parrots, including the hyacinthine macaw we were in search of, began then to pa.s.s over; the different styles of cawing and screaming of the various species making a terrible discord. Added to these noises were the songs of strange Cicadas, one large kind perched high on the trees around our little haven setting up a most piercing chirp. it began with the usual harsh jarring tone of its tribe, but this gradually and rapidly became shriller, until it ended in a long and loud note resembling the steam-whistle of a locomotive engine. Half-a-dozen of these wonderful performers made a considerable item in the evening concert. I had heard the same species before at Para, but it was there very uncommon; we obtained one of them here for my collection by a lucky blow with a stone. The uproar of beasts, birds, and insects lasted but a short time: the sky quickly lost its intense hue, and the night set in. Then began the tree-frogs--quack-quack, drum-drum, hoo- hoo; these, accompanied by a melancholy night-jar, kept up their monotonous cries until very late.

My men encountered on the banks of the stream a Jaguar and a black Tiger, and were very much afraid of falling in with the Pararauates, so that I could not, after their return on the fourth day, induce them to undertake another journey. We began our descent of the river in the evening of the 26th of August. At night forest and river were again enveloped in mist, and the air before sunrise was quite cold. There is a considerable current from the falls to the house of John Aracu, and we accomplished the distance, with its aid and by rowing, in seventeen hours.

September 21st.-At five o'clock in the afternoon we emerged from the confined and stifling gully through which the Cupari flows, into the broad Tapajos, and breathed freely again. How I enjoyed the extensive view after being so long pent up: the mountainous coasts, the grey distance, the dark waters tossed by a refreshing breeze! Heat, mosquitoes, insufficient and bad food, hard work and anxiety, had brought me to a very low state of health; and I was now anxious to make all speed back to Santarem.

We touched at Aveyros, to embark some chests I had left there and to settle accounts with Captain Antonio, and found nearly all the people sick with fever and vomit, against which the Padre's h.o.m.oeopathic globules were of no avail. The Tapajos had been pretty free from epidemics for some years past, although it was formerly a very unhealthy river. A sickly time appeared to be now returning; in fact, the year following my visit (1853) was the most fatal one ever experienced in this part of the country. A kind of putrid fever broke out, which attacked people of all races alike. The accounts we received at Santarem were most distressing-- my Cupari friends especially suffered very severely. John Aracu and his family all fell victims, with the exception of his wife; my kind friend Antonio Malagueita also died, and a great number of people in the Mundurucu village.

The descent of the Tapajos in the height of the dry season, which was now close at hand, is very hazardous on account of the strong winds, absence of current, and shoaly water far away from the coasts. The river towards the end of September is about thirty feet shallower than in June; and in many places, ledges of rock are laid bare, or covered with only a small depth of water. I had been warned of these circ.u.mstances by my Cupari friends, but did not form an adequate idea of what we should have to undergo.

Canoes, in descending, only travel at night, when the terral, or light land-breeze, blows off the eastern sh.o.r.e. In the daytime a strong wind rages from down river, against which it is impossible to contend as there is no current, and the swell raised by its sweeping over scores of miles of shallow water is dangerous to small vessels. The coast for the greater part of the distance affords no shelter; there are, however, a number of little harbours, called esperas, which the canoemen calculate upon, carefully arranging each night-voyage so as to reach one of them before the wind begins the next morning.

We left Aveyros in the evening of the 21st, and sailed gently down with the soft land-breeze, keeping about a mile from the eastern sh.o.r.e. It was a brilliant moonlit night, and the men worked cheerfully at the oars when the wind was slack, the terral wafting from the forest a pleasant perfume like that of mignonette. At midnight we made a fire and got a cup of coffee, and at three o'clock in the morning reached the sitio of Ricardo's father, an Indian named Andre, where we anch.o.r.ed and slept.

September 22nd--Old Andre with his squaw came aboard this morning. They brought three Tracajas, a turtle, and a basketful of Tracaja eggs, to exchange with me for cotton cloth and cashaca. Ricardo, who had been for some time very discontented, having now satisfied his longing to see his parents, cheerfully agreed to accompany me to Santarem. The loss of a man at this juncture would have been very annoying, with Captain Antonio ill at Aveyros, and not a hand to be had anywhere in the neighbourhood; but, if we had not called at Andre's sitio, we should not have been able to have kept Ricardo from running away at the first landing-place. He was a lively, restless lad, and although impudent and troublesome at first, had made a very good servant. His companion, Alberto, was of quite a different disposition, being extremely taciturn, and going through all his duties with the quietest regularity.

We left at 11 a.m., and progressed a little before the wind began to blow from down river, when we were obliged again to cast anchor. The terral began at six o'clock in the evening, and we sailed with it past the long line of rock-bound coast near Itapuama. At ten o'clock a furious blast of wind came from a cleft between the hills, catching us with the sails close-hauled, and throwing the canoe nearly on its beam-ends, when we were about a mile from the sh.o.r.e. Jose had the presence of mind to slacken the sheet of the mainsail, while I leapt forward and lowered the sprit of the foresail, the two Indians standing stupefied in the prow. It was what the canoe-men call a trovoada secca or white squall. The river in a few minutes became a sheet of foam; the wind ceased in about half an hour, but the terral was over for the night, so we pulled towards the sh.o.r.e to find an anchoring place.

We reached Tapaiuna by midnight on the 23rd, and on the morning of the 24th arrived at the Retiro, where we met a shrewd Santarem trader, whom I knew, Senor Chico Honorio, who had a larger and much better provided canoe than our own. The wind was strong from below all day, so we remained at this place in his company. He had his wife with him, and a number of Indians, male and female.

We slung our hammocks under the trees, and breakfasted and dined together, our cloth being spread on the sandy beach in the shade after killing a large quant.i.ty of fish with timbo, of which we had obtained a supply at Itapuama. At night we were again under way with the land breeze. The water was shoaly to a great distance off the coast, and our canoe having the lighter draught went ahead, our leadsman crying out the soundings to our companion-- the depth was only one fathom, half a mile from the coast. We spent the next day (25th) at the mouth of a creek called Pini, which is exactly opposite the village of Boim, and on the following night advanced about twelve miles. Every point of land had a long spit of sand stretching one or two miles towards the middle of the river, which it was necessary to double by a wide circuit. The terral failed us at midnight when we were near an espera, called Marai, the mouth of a shallow creek.

September 26th.--I did not like the prospect of spending the whole dreary day at Marai, where it was impossible to ramble ash.o.r.e, the forest being utterly impervious, and the land still partly under water. Besides, we had used up our last stick of firewood to boil our coffee at sunrise, and could not get a fresh supply at this place. So there being a dead calm on the river in the morning, I gave orders at ten o'clock to move out of the harbour, and try with the oars to reach Paquiatuba, which was only five miles distant. We had doubled the shoaly point which stretches from the mouth of the creek, and were making way merrily across the bay, at the head of which was the port of the little settlement, when we beheld to our dismay, a few miles down the river, the signs of the violent day breeze coming down upon us--a long, rapidly advancing line of foam with the darkened water behind it. Our men strove in vain to gain the harbour; the wind overtook us, and we cast anchor in three fathoms, with two miles of shoaly water between us and the land on our lee. It came with the force of a squall: the heavy billows washing over the vessel and drenching us with the spray. I did not expect that our anchor would hold; I gave out, however, plenty of cable and watched the result at the prow, Jose placing himself at the helm, and the men standing by the jib and foresail, so as to be ready if we dragged to attempt the pa.s.sage of the Marai spit, which was now almost dead to leeward. Our little bit of iron, however, held its place; the bottom being fortunately not so sandy as in most other parts of the coast; but our weak cable then began to cause us anxiety.

We remained in this position all day without food, for everything was tossing about in the hold; provision-chests, baskets, kettles, and crockery. The breeze increased in strength towards the evening, when the sun set fiery red behind the misty hills on the western sh.o.r.e, and the gloom of the scene was heightened by the strange contrasts of colour; the inky water and the lurid gleam of the sky. Heavy seas beat now and then against the prow of our vessel with a force that made her shiver. If we had gone ash.o.r.e in this place, all my precious collections would have been inevitably lost; but we ourselves could have scrambled easily to land, and re-embarked with Senor Honorio, who had remained behind in the Pini, and would pa.s.s in the course of two or three days.

When night came I lay down exhausted with watching and fatigue, and fell asleep, as my men had done sometime before. About nine o'clock, I was awakened by the montaria b.u.mping against the sides of the vessel, which had veered suddenly round, and the full moon, previously astern, then shone full in the cabin. The wind had abruptly ceased, giving place to light puffs from the eastern sh.o.r.e, and leaving a long swell rolling into the shoaly bay.

After this, I resolved not to move a step beyond Paquiatuba without an additional man, and one who understood the navigation of the river at this season. We reached the landing-place at ten o'clock, and anch.o.r.ed within the mouth of the creek. In the morning I walked through the beautiful shady alleys of the forest, which were waterpaths in June when we touched here in ascending the river to the house of Inspector Cypriano. After an infinite deal of trouble, I succeeded in persuading him to furnish me with another Indian. There are about thirty families established in this place, but the able-bodied men had been nearly all drafted off within the last few weeks by the Government, to accompany a military expedition against runaway negroes, settled in villages in the interior. Senor Cypriano was a pleasant-looking and extremely civil young Mameluco. He accompanied us, on the night of the 28th, five miles down the river to Point Jaguarari, where the man lived whom he intended to send with me. I was glad to find my new hand a steady, middle- aged and married Indian; his name was of very good promise, Angelo Custodio (Guardian Angel).

Point Jaguarari forms at this season of the year a high sandbank, which is prolonged as a narrow spit, stretching about three miles towards the middle of the river. We rounded this with great difficulty on the night of the 29th, reaching before daylight a good shelter behind a similar sandbank at Point Acaratingari, a headland situated not more than five miles in a straight line from our last anchoring place. We remained here all day; the men beating timbo in a quiet pool between the sandbank and the mainland, and obtaining a great quant.i.ty of fish, from which I selected six species new to my collection. We made rather better progress the two following nights, but the terral now always blew strongly from the north-northeast after midnight, and thus limited the hours during which we could navigate, forcing us to seek the nearest shelter to avoid being driven back faster than we came.

On the 2nd of October, we reached Point Cajetuba and had a pleasant day ash.o.r.e. The river scenery in this neighbourhood is of the greatest beauty. A few houses of settlers are seen at the bottom of the broad bay of Aramhna-i at the foot of a range of richly-timbered hills, the high beach of snow-white sand stretching in a bold curve from point to point. The opposite sh.o.r.es of the river are ten or eleven miles distant, but towards the north is a clear horizon of water and sky. The country near Point Cajetuba is similar to the neighbourhood of Santarem-- namely, campos with scattered trees. We gathered a large quant.i.ty of wild fruit: Caju, Umiri, and Aapiranga. The Umiri berry (Humirium floribundum) is a black drupe similar in appearance to the Damascene plum, and not greatly unlike it in taste. The Aapiranga is a bright vermilion-coloured berry, with a hard skin and a sweet viscid pulp enclosing the seeds.

Between the point and Altar do Chao was a long stretch of sandy beach with moderately deep water; our men, therefore, took a rope ash.o.r.e and towed the cuberta at merry speed until we reached the village. A long, deeply laden canoe with miners from the interior provinces pa.s.sed us here. It was manned by ten Indians, who propelled the boat by poles; the men, five on each side, trotting one after the other along a plank arranged for the purpose from stem to stern. It took us two nights to double Point Cururu, where, as already mentioned, the river bends from its northerly course beyond Altar do Chao. A confused pile of rocks, on which many a vessel heavily laden with farinha has been wrecked, extends at the season of low water from the foot of a high bluff far into the stream. We were driven back on the first night (October 3rd) by a squall. The light terral was carrying us pleasantly round the spit, when a small black cloud which lay near the rising moon suddenly spread over the sky to the northward; the land breeze then ceased, and furious blasts began to blow across the river. We regained, with great difficulty, the shelter of the point. It blew almost a hurricane for two hours, during the whole of which time the sky over our heads was beautifully clear and starlit. Our shelter at first was not very secure, for the wind blew away the lashings of our sails, and caused our anchor to drag. Angelo Custodio, however, seized a rope which was attached to the foremast, and leapt ash.o.r.e; had he not done so, we should probably have been driven many miles backwards up the storm-tossed river. After the cloud had pa.s.sed, the regular east wind began to blow, and our further progress was effectually stopped for the night. The next day we all went ash.o.r.e, after securing well the canoe, and slept from eleven o'clock till five under the shade of trees.

The distance between Point Cururu and Santarem was accomplished in three days, against the same difficulties of contrary and furious winds, shoaly water, and rocky coasts. I was thankful at length to be safely housed, with the whole of my collections, made under so many privations and perils, landed without the loss or damage of a specimen. The men, after unloading the canoe and delivering it to its owner, came to receive their payment. They took part in goods and part in money, and after a good supper, on the night of the 7th October, shouldered their bundles and set off to walk by land some eighty miles to their homes. I was rather surprised at the good feeling exhibited by these poor Indians at parting. Angelo Custodio said that whenever I should wish to make another voyage up the Tapajos, he would be always ready to serve me as pilot. Alberto was undemonstrative as usual; but Ricardo, with whom I had had many sharp quarrels, actually shed tears when he shook hands and bid me the final "adios."

CHAPTER X

THE UPPER AMAZONS--VOYAGE TO EGA

Departure from Barra--First Day and Night on the Upper Amazons-- Desolate Appearance of River in the Flood Season--Cucama Indians- -Mental Condition of Indians--Squalls--Manatee--Forest--Floating Pumice Stones from the Andes--Falling Banks--Ega and its Inhabitants--Daily Life of a Naturalist at Ega--The Four Seasons of the Upper Amazons

I must now take the reader from the picturesque, hilly country of the Tapajos, and its dark, streamless waters, to the boundless wooded plains, and yellow turbid current of the Upper Amazons or Solimoens. I will resume the narrative of my first voyage up the river, which was interrupted at the Barra of the Rio Negro in the seventh chapter, to make way for the description of Santarem and its neighbourhood.

I embarked at Barra on the 26th of March, 1850, three years before steamers were introduced on the upper river, in a cuberta which was returning to Ega, the first and only town of any importance in the vast solitudes of the Solimoens, from Santarem, whither it had been sent, with a cargo of turtle oil in earthenware jars. The owner, an old white-haired Portuguese trader of Ega named Daniel Cardozo, was then at Barra attending the a.s.sizes as juryman, a public duty performed without remuneration, which took him six weeks away from his business. He was about to leave Barra himself, in a small boat, and recommended me to send forward my heavy baggage in the cuberta and make the journey with him. He would reach Ega, 370 miles distant from Barra, in twelve or fourteen days; while the large vessel would be thirty or forty days on the road. I preferred, however, to go in company with my luggage, looking forward to the many opportunities I should have of landing and making collections on the banks of the river.

I shipped the collections made between Para and the Rio Negro in a large cutter which was about descending to the capital, and after a heavy day's work got all my chests aboard the Ega canoe by eight o'clock at night. The Indians were then all embarked, one of them being brought dead drunk by his companions, and laid to sober himself all night on the wet boards of the tombadilha.

The cabo, a spirited young white, named Estulano Alves Carneiro, who has since risen to be a distinguished citizen of the new province of the Upper Amazons, soon after gave orders to get up the anchor. The men took to the oars, and in a few hours we crossed the broad mouth of the Rio Negro; the night being clear, calm, and starlit, and the surface of the inky waters smooth as a lake.

When I awoke the next morning, we were progressing by espia along the left bank of the Solimoens. The rainy season had now set in over the region through which the great river flows; the sand- banks and all the lower lands were already under water, and the tearing current, two or three miles in breadth, bore along a continuous line of uprooted trees and islets of floating plants.

The prospect was most melancholy; no sound was heard but the dull murmur of the waters -- the coast along which we travelled all day was enc.u.mbered every step of the way with fallen trees, some of which quivered in the currents which set around projecting points of land. Our old pest, the Motuca, began to torment us as soon as the sun gained power in the morning. White egrets were plentiful at the edge of the water, and hummingbirds, in some places, were whirring about the flowers overhead. The desolate appearance of the landscape increased after sunset, when the moon rose in mist.

This upper river, the Alto-Amazonas, or Solimoens, is always spoken of by the Brazilians as a distinct stream. This is partly owing, as before remarked, to the direction it seems to take at the fork of the Rio Negro; the inhabitants of the country, from their partial knowledge, not being able to comprehend the whole river system in one view. It has, however, many peculiarities to distinguish it from the lower course of the river. The trade- wind, or sea-breeze, which reaches, in the height of the dry season, as far as the mouth of the Rio Negro, 900 or 1000 miles from the Atlantic, never blows on the upper river. The atmosphere is therefore more stagnant and sultry, and the winds that do prevail are of irregular direction and short duration. A great part of the land on the borders of the Lower Amazons is hilly; there are extensive campos, or open plains, and long stretches of sandy soil clothed with thinner forests. The climate, in consequence, is comparatively dry many months in succession during the fine season pa.s.sing without rain. All this is changed on the Solimoens. A fortnight of clear sunny weather is a rarity: the whole region through which the river and its affluents flow, after leaving the easternmost ridges of the Andes, which Poppig describes as rising like a wall from the level country, 240 miles from the Pacific, is a vast plain, about 1000 miles in length, and 500 or 600 in breadth, covered with one uniform, lofty, impervious, and humid forest. The soil is nowhere sandy, but always either a stiff clay, alluvium, or vegetable mold, which thelatter, in many places, is seen in water-worn sections of the river banks to be twenty or thirty feet in depth. With such a soil and climate, the luxuriance of vegetation, and the abundance and beauty of animal forms which are already so great in the region nearer the Atlantic, increase on the upper river. The fruits, both wild and cultivated, common to the two sections of the country, reach a progressively larger size in advancing westward, and some trees, which blossom only once a year at Para and Santarem, yield flower and fruit all the year round at Ega.

The climate is healthy, although one lives here as in a permanent vapour bath. I must not, however, give here a lengthy description of the region while we are yet on its threshold. I resided and travelled on the Solimoens altogether for four years and a half.

The country on its borders is a magnificent wilderness where civilised man, as yet, has scarcely obtained a footing; the cultivated ground from the Rio Negro to the Andes amounting only to a few score acres. Man, indeed, in any condition, from his small numbers, makes but an insignificant figure in these vast solitudes. It may be mentioned that the Solimoens is 2130 miles in length, if we reckon from the source of what is usually considered the main stream (Lake Lauricocha, near Lima); but 2500 miles by the route of the Ucayali, the most considerable and practicable fork of the upper part of the river. It is navigable at all seasons by large steamers for upwards of 1400 miles from the mouth of the Rio Negro.

On the 28th we pa.s.sed the mouth of Arlauu, a narrow inlet which communicates with the Rio Negro, emerging in front of Barra. Our vessel was nearly drawn into this by the violent current which set from the Solimoens. The towing-cable was lashed to a strong tree about thirty yards ahead, and it took the whole strength of crew and pa.s.sengers to pull across. We pa.s.sed the Guariba, a second channel connecting the two rivers, on the 30th, and on the 31st sailed past a straggling settlement called Manacapuru, situated on a high, rocky bank. Many citizens of Barra have sitios, or country-houses, in this place, although it is eighty miles distant from the town by the nearest road. Beyond Manacapuru all traces of high land cease; both sh.o.r.es of the river, henceforward for many hundred miles, are flat, except in places where the Tabatinga formation appears in clayey elevations of from twenty to forty feet above the line of highest water. The country is so completely dest.i.tute of rocky or gravelly beds that not a pebble is seen during many weeks' journey. Our voyage was now very monotonous. After leaving the last house at Manacapuru, we travelled nineteen days without seeing a human habitation, the few settlers being located on the banks of inlets or lakes some distance from the sh.o.r.es of the main river. We met only one vessel during the whole of the time, and this did not come within hail, as it was drifting down in the middle of the current in a broad part of the river, two miles from the bank along which we were laboriously warping our course upwards.

After the first two or three days we fell into a regular way of life on board. Our crew was composed of ten Indians of the Cucama nation, whose native country is a portion of the borders of the upper river in the neighbourhood of Nauta, in Peru. The Cucamas speak the Tupi language, using, however, a harsher accent than is common amongst the semi-civilised Indians from Ega downwards.

They are a shrewd, hard-working people, and are the only Indians who willingly, and in a body, engage themselves to navigate the canoes of traders. The pilot, a steady and faithful fellow named Vicente, told me that he and his companions had now been fifteen months absent from their wives and families, and that on arriving at Ega they intended to take the first chance of a pa.s.sage to Nauta. There was nothing in the appearance of these men to distinguish them from canoemen in general. Some were tall and well built, others had squat figures with broad shoulders and excessively thick arms and legs. No two of them were at all similar in the shape of the head: Vicente had an oval visage, with fine regular features, while a little dumpy fellow, the wag of the party, was quite a Mongolian in breadth and prominence of cheek, spread of nostrils, and obliquity of eyes; but these two formed the extremes as to face and figure. None of them were tattooed or disfigured in any way and they were all quite dest.i.tute of beard.

The Cucamas are notorious on the river for their provident habits. The desire of acquiring property is so rare a trait in Indians, that the habits of these people are remarked on with surprise by the Brazilians. The first possession which they strive to acquire on descending the river into Brazil, which all the Peruvian Indians look upon as a richer country than their own, is a wooden trunk with lock and key; in this they stow away carefully all their earnings converted into clothing, hatchets, knives, harpoon heads, needles and thread, and so forth. Their wages are only fourpence or sixpence a day, which is often paid in goods charged one hundred per cent above Para prices, so that it takes them a long time to fill their chest.

It would be difficult to find a better-behaved set of men in a voyage than these poor Indians. During our thirty-five days'

journey they lived and worked together in the most perfect good fellowship. I never heard an angry word pa.s.s amongst them. Senor Estulano let them navigate the vessel in their own way, exerting his authority only now and then when they were inclined to be lazy. Vicente regulated the working hours. These depended on the darkness of the nights. In the first and second quarters of the moon they kept it up with espia, or oars, until almost midnight; in the third and fourth quarters they were allowed to go to sleep soon after sunset, and were aroused at three or four o'clock in the morning to resume their work. On cool, rainy days we all bore a hand at the espia, trotting with bare feet on the sloppy deck in Indian file to the tune of some wild boatman's chorus. We had a favorable wind for only two days out of the thirty-five, by which we made about forty miles, the rest of our long journey was accomplished literally by pulling our way from tree to tree. When we encountered a remanso near the sh.o.r.e, we got along very pleasantly for a few miles by rowing-- but this was a rare occurrence. During leisure hours the Indians employed themselves in sewing. Vicente was a good hand at cutting out shirts and trousers, and acted as master tailor to the whole party, each of whom had a thick steel thimble and a stock of needles and thread of his own. Vicente made for me a set of blue-check cotton shirts during the pa.s.sage.

The goodness of these Indians, like that of most others amongst whom I lived, consisted perhaps more in the absence of active bad qualities, than in the possession of good ones; in other words, it was negative rather than positive. Their phlegmatic, apathetic temperament, coldness of desire and deadness of feeling, want of curiosity and slowness of intellect, make the Amazonian Indians very uninteresting companions anywhere. Their imagination is of a dull, gloomy, quality and they seemed never to be stirred by the emotions--love, pity, admiration, fear, wonder, joy, orenthusiasm. These are characteristics of the whole race. The good fellowship of our Cucamas seemed to arise not from warm sympathy, but simply from the absence of eager selfishness in small matters. On the morning when the favourable wind sprung up, one of the crew, a lad of about seventeen years of age, was absent ash.o.r.e at the time of starting, having gone alone in one of the montarias to gather wild fruit. The sails were spread and we travelled for several hours at great speed, leaving the poor fellow to paddle after us against the strong current. Vicente, who might have waited a few minutes at starting, and the others, only laughed when the hardship of their companion was alluded to.

He overtook us at night, having worked his way with frightful labor the whole day without a morsel of food. He grinned when he came on board, and not a dozen words were said on either side.

Their want of curiosity is extreme. One day we had an unusually sharp thunder shower. The crew were lying about the deck, and after each explosion all set up a loud laugh; the wag of the party exclaiming: "There's my old uncle hunting again!"-- an expression showing the utter emptiness of mind of the spokesman.

I asked Vicente what he thought was the cause of lightning and thunder... He said, "Timaa ichoqua,"--I don't know. He had never given the subject a moment's thought! It was the same with other things. I asked him who made the sun, the stars, the trees... He didn't know, and had never heard the subject mentioned amongst his tribe. The Tupi language, at least as taught by the old Jesuits, has a word--Tupana--signifying G.o.d. Vicente sometimes used this word, but he showed by his expressions that he did not attach the idea of a Creator to it. He seemed to think it meant some deity or visible image which the whites worshipped in the churches he had seen in the villages. None of the Indian tribes on the Upper Amazons have an idea of a Supreme Being, and consequently have no word to express it in their own language.

Vicente thought the river on which we were travelling encircled the whole earth, and that the land was an island like those seen in the stream, but larger. Here a gleam of curiosity and imagination in the Indian mind is revealed: the necessity of a theory of the earth and water has been felt, and a theory has been suggested. In all other matters not concerning the common wants of life, the mind of Vicente was a blank and such I always found to be the case with the Indian in his natural state. Would a community of any race of men be otherwise, were they isolated for centuries in a wilderness like the Amazonian Indians, a.s.sociated in small numbers wholly occupied in procuring a mere subsistence, and without a written language, or a leisured cla.s.s to hand down acquired knowledge from generation to generation?One day a smart squall gave us a good lift onward; it came with a cold, fine, driving rain, which enveloped the desolate landscape as with a mist; the forest swayed and roared with the force of the gale, and flocks of birds were driven about in alarm over the tree tops. On another occasion a similar squall came from an unfavourable quarter; it fell upon us quite unawares, when we had all our sails out to dry, and blew us broadside foremost on the sh.o.r.e. The vessel was fairly lifted on to the tall bushes which lined the banks, but we sustained no injury beyond the entanglement of our rigging in the branches. The days and nights usually pa.s.sed in a dead calm, or with light intermittent winds from up river, and consequently full against us. We landed twice a day to give ourselves and the Indians a little rest and change, and to cook our two meals--breakfast and dinner. There was another pa.s.senger besides myself--a cautious, middle-aged Portuguese, who was going to settle at Ega, where he had a brother long since established. He was accommodated in the fore- cabin, or arched covering over the hold. I shared the cabin- proper with Senores Estulano and Manoel, the latter a young half- caste, son-in-law to the owner of the vessel, under whose tuition I made good progress in learning the Tupi language during the voyage.

Our men took it in turns, two at a time, to go out fishing-- for which purpose we carried a spare montaria. The master had brought from Barra as provision, nothing but stale, salt pirarucu--half rotten fish, in large, thin, rusty slabs--farinha, coffee, and treacle. In these voyages, pa.s.sengers are expected to provide for themselves, as no charge is made except for freight of the heavy luggage or cargo they take with them. The Portuguese and myself had brought a few luxuries, such as beans, sugar, biscuits, tea, and so forth; but we found ourselves almost obliged to share them with our two companions and the pilot, so that before the voyage was one-third finished, the small stock of most of these articles was exhausted. In return, we shared in whatever the men brought.

Sometimes they were quite unsuccessful, for fish is extremely difficult to procure in the season of high water, on account of the lower lands lying between the inlets and infinite chain of pools and lakes being flooded from the main river, thus increasing tenfold the area over which the finny population has to range. On most days, however, they brought two or three fine fish, and once they harpooned a manatee, or Vacca marina. On this last-mentioned occasion we made quite a holiday; the canoe was stopped for six or seven hours, and all turned out into the forest to help skin and cook the animal. The meat was cut into cubical slabs, and each person skewered a dozen or so of these on a long stick. Fires were made, and the spits stuck in the ground and slanted over the flames to roast. A drizzling rain fell all the time, and the ground around the fires swarmed with stinging ants, attracted by the entrails and slime which were scattered about. The meat has somewhat the taste of very coa.r.s.e pork; but the fat, which lies in thick layers between the lean parts, is of a greenish colour, and of a disagreeable, fishy flavour. The animal was a large one, measuring nearly ten feet in length, and nine in girth at the broadest part. The manatee is one of the few objects which excite the dull wonder and curiosity of the Indians, notwithstanding its commonness. The fact of its suckling its young at the breast, although an aquatic animal resembling a fish, seems to strike them as something very strange. The animal, as it lay on its back, with its broad rounded head and muzzle, tapering body, and smooth, thick, lead-coloured skin reminded me of those Egyptian tombs which are made of dark, smooth stone, and shaped to the human figure.

Notwithstanding the hard fare, the confinement of the canoe, the trying weather--frequent and drenching rains, with gleams of fiery sunshine--and the woeful desolation of the river scenery, I enjoyed the voyage on the whole. We were not much troubled by mosquitoes, and therefore pa.s.sed the nights very pleasantly, sleeping on deck wrapped in blankets or old sails. When the rains drove us below we were less comfortable, as there was only just room in the small cabin for three of us to lie close together, and the confined air was stifling. I became inured to the Piums in the course of the first week; all the exposed parts of my body, by that time, being so closely covered with black punctures that the little bloodsuckers could not very easily find an unoccupied place to operate upon. Poor Miguel, the Portuguese, suffered horribly from these pests, his ankles and wrists being so much inflamed that he was confined to his hammock, slung in the hold, for weeks. At every landing place I had a ramble in the forest, while the redskins made the fire and cooked the meal. The result was a large daily addition to my collection of insects, reptiles, and sh.e.l.ls.

Sometimes the neighbourhood of our gipsy-like encampment was a tract of dry and s.p.a.cious forest, pleasant to ramble in; but more frequently it was a rank wilderness, into which it was impossible to penetrate many yards, on account of uprooted trees, entangled webs of monstrous woody climbers, thickets of spiny bamboos, swamps, or obstacles of one kind or other. The drier lands were sometimes beautified to the highest degree by groves of the Urucuri palm (Attalea excelsa), which grew by the thousands under the crowns of the lofty, ordinary forest trees; their smooth columnar stems being all of nearly equal height (forty or fifty feet), and their broad, finely-pinnated leaves interlocking above to form arches and woven canopies of elegant and diversified shapes. The fruit of this palm ripens on the upper river in April, and during our voyage I saw immense quant.i.ties of it strewn about under the trees in places where we encamped. It is similar in size and shape to the date, and has a pleasantly- flavoured juicy pulp. The Indians would not eat it; I was surprised at this, as they greedily devoured many other kinds of palm fruit whose sour and fibrous pulp was much less palatable.

Vicente shook his head when he saw me one day eating a quant.i.ty of the Urucuri plums. I am not sure they were not the cause of a severe indigestion under which I suffered for many days afterwards.

In pa.s.sing slowly along the interminable wooded banks week after week, I observed that there were three tolerably distinct kinds of coast and corresponding forest constantly recurring on this upper river. First, there were the low and most recent alluvial deposits--a mixture of sand and mud, covered with tall, broad- leaved gra.s.ses, or with the arrow-gra.s.s before described, whose feathery-topped flower-stem rises to a height of fourteen or fifteen feet. The only large trees which grow in these places are the Cecropiae. Many of the smaller and newer islands were of this description. Secondly, there were the moderately high banks, which are only partially overflowed when the flood season is at its height; these are wooded with a magnificent, varied forest, in which a great variety of palms and broad-leaved Marantaceae form a very large proportion of the vegetation. The general foliage is of a vivid light-green hue; the water frontage is sometimes covered with a diversified ma.s.s of greenery; but where the current sets strongly against the friable, earthy banks, which at low water are twenty-five to thirty feet high, these are cut away, and expose a section of forest where the trunks of trees loaded with epiphytes appear in ma.s.sy colonnades. One might safely say that three-fourths of the land bordering the Upper Amazons, for a thousand miles, belong to this second cla.s.s. The third description of coast is the higher, undulating, clayey land, which appears only at long intervals, but extends sometimes for many miles along the borders of the river. The coast at these places is sloping, and composed of red or variegated clay. The forest is of a different character from that of the lower tracts: it is rounder in outline, more uniform in its general aspect-- palms are much less numerous and of peculiar species--the strange bulging-stemmed species, Iriartea ventricosa, and the slender, glossy-leaved Bacaba-i (Oenocarpus minor), being especially characteristic; and, in short, animal life, which imparts some cheerfulness to the other parts of the river, is seldom apparent.

This "terra firme," as it is called, and a large portion of the fertile lower land, seemed well adapted for settlement; some parts were originally peopled by the aborigines, but these have long since become extinct or amalgamated with the white immigrants. I afterwards learned that there were not more than eighteen or twenty families settled throughout the whole country from Manacapuru to Quary, a distance of 240 miles; and these, as before observed, do not live on the banks of the main stream, but on the sh.o.r.es of inlets and lakes.

The fishermen twice brought me small rounded pieces of very porous pumice-stone, which they had picked up floating on the surface of the main current of the river. They were to me objects of great curiosity as being messengers from the distant volcanoes of the Andes-- Cotopaxi, Llanganete, or Sangay-- which rear their peaks amongst the rivulets that feed some of the early tributaries of the Amazons, such as the Macas, the Pastaza, and the Napo. The stones must have already travelled a distance of 1200 miles. I afterwards found them rather common; the Brazilians use them for cleaning rust from their guns, and firmly believe them to be solidified river foam. A friend once brought me, when I lived at Santarem, a large piece which had been found in the middle of the stream below Monte Alegre, about 900 miles further down the river; having reached this distance, pumice-stones would be pretty sure of being carried out to sea, and floated thence with the northwesterly Atlantic current to sh.o.r.es many thousand miles distant from the volcanoes which ejected them. They are sometimes stranded on the banks in different parts of the river.

Reflecting on this circ.u.mstance since I arrived in England, the probability of these porous fragments serving as vehicles for the transportation of seeds of plants, eggs of insects, sp.a.w.n of fresh-water fish, and so forth, has suggested itself to me. Their rounded, water-worn appearance showed that they must have been rolled about for a long time in the shallow streams near the sources of the rivers at the feet of the volcanoes, before they leapt the waterfalls and embarked on the currents which lead direct for the Amazons. They may have been originally cast on the land and afterwards carried to the rivers by freshets; in which case the eggs and seeds of land insects and plants might be accidentally introduced and safely enclosed with particles of earth in their cavities. As the speed of the current in the rainy season has been observed to be from three to five miles an hour, they might travel an immense distance before the eggs or seeds were destroyed. I am ashamed to say that I neglected the opportunity, while on the spot, of ascertaining whether this was actually the case. The attention of Naturalists has only lately been turned to the important subject of occasional means of wide dissemination of species of animals and plants. Unless such be shown to exist, it is impossible to solve some of the most difficult problems connected with the distribution of plants and animals. Some species, with most limited powers of locomotion, are found in opposite parts of the earth, without existing in the intermediate regions; unless it can be shown that these may have migrated or been accidentally transported from one point to the other, we shall have to come to the strange conclusion that the same species had been created in two separate districts.

Canoemen on the Upper Amazons live in constant dread of the "terras cahidas," or landslips, which occasionally take place along the steep earthy banks, especially when the waters are rising. Large vessels are sometimes overwhelmed by these avalanches of earth and trees. I should have thought the accounts of them exaggerated if I had not had an opportunity during this voyage of seeing one on a large scale. One morning I was awakened before sunrise by an unusual sound resembling the roar of artillery. I was lying alone on the top of the cabin; it was very dark, and all my companions were asleep, so I lay listening. The sounds came from a considerable distance, and the crash which had aroused me was succeeded by others much less formidable. The first explanation which occurred to me was that it was an earthquake; for, although the night was breathlessly calm, the broad river was much agitated and the vessel rolled heavily. Soon after, another loud explosion took place, apparently much nearer than the former one; then followed others. The thundering peal rolled backwards and forwards, now seeming close at hand, now far off--the sudden crashes being often succeeded by a pause or a long,continued dull rumbling. At the second explosion, Vicente, who lay snoring by the helm, awoke and told me it was a "terra cahida"; but I could scarcely believe him. The day dawned after the uproar had lasted about an hour, and we then saw the work of destruction going forward on the other side of the river, about three miles off. Large ma.s.ses of forest, including trees of colossal size, probably 200 feet in height, were rocking to and fro, and falling headlong one after the other into the water.

After each avalanche the wave which it caused returned on the crumbly bank with tremendous force, and caused the fall of other ma.s.ses by undermining them. The line of coast over which the landslip extended, was a mile or two in length; the end of it, however, was hidden from our view by an intervening island. It was a grand sight; each downfall created a cloud of spray; the concussion in one place causing other ma.s.ses to give way a long distance from it, and thus the crashes continued, swaying to and fro, with little prospect of a termination. When we glided out of sight, two hours after sunrise, the destruction was still going on.

On the 22nd we threaded the Parana-mirim of Arauana-i, one of the numerous narrow bywaters which lie conveniently for canoes away from the main river, and often save a considerable circuit around a promontory or island. We rowed for half a mile through a magnificent bed of Victoria waterlilies, the flower-buds of which were just beginning to expand. Beyond the mouth of the Catua, a channel leading to one of the great lakes so numerous in the plains of the Amazons, which we pa.s.sed on the 25th, the river appeared greatly increased in breadth. We travelled for three days along a broad reach which both up and down river presented a blank horizon of water and sky-- this clear view was owing to the absence of islands, but it renewed one's impressions of the magnitude of the stream, which here, 1200 miles from its mouth, showed so little diminution of width. Further westward, a series of large islands commences, which divides the river into two and sometimes three channels, each about a mile in breadth. We kept to the southernmost of these, travelling all day on the 30th of April along a high and rather sloping bank.