CHAPTER X.
MADAME GODIN'S VOYAGE CONTINUED
The unfortunate travellers had now but the choice of two desperate expedients, – either to wait where they were the termination of their wretched existence, or try the almost impossible task of penetrating along the banks of the river, through the unbroken forest, till they might reach Andoas. They chose the latter, but first made their way back to their lately forsaken hut to take what little provisions they had there left. Having accomplished this, they set out on their most painful and dangerous journey. They observed, when they followed the shore of the river, that its windings lengthened their way. To avoid this, they endeavored, without leaving the course of the river, to keep a straight course. By this means, they lost themselves in the entangled forest; and every exertion to find their way was ineffectual. Their clothes were torn to shreds, and hung dangling from their limbs; their bodies were sadly wounded by thorns and briers; and, as their scanty provision of food was almost gone, nothing seemed left to them but to sustain their wretched existence with wild fruit, seeds and buds of the palm-trees.
At last, they sank under their unremitted labor. Wearied with the hardships of such travel, torn and bleeding in every part of their bodies, and distracted with hunger, terror, and apprehensions, they lost the small remnant of their energy, and could do no more. They sat down, and had no power to rise again. In three or four days, one after another died at this stage of their journey. Madame Godin lay for the space of twenty-four hours by the side of her exhausted and helpless brothers and companions: she felt herself benumbed, stupefied, senseless, yet at the same time tormented by burning thirst. At last, Providence, on whom she relied, gave her courage and strength to rouse herself and seek for a rescue, which was in store for her, though she knew not where to look for it.
Around lay the dead bodies of her brothers and her other companions, – a sight which at another time would have broken her heart. She was almost naked. The scanty remnants of her clothing were so torn by the thorns as to be almost useless. She cut the shoes from her dead brothers' feet, bound the soles under her own, and plunged again into the thicket in search of something to allay her raging hunger and thirst. Terror at seeing herself so left alone in such a fearful wilderness, deserted by all the world, and apprehension of a dreadful death constantly hovering before her eyes, made such an impression upon her, that her hair turned gray.
It was not till the second day after she had resumed her wandering that she found water, and, a little while after, some wild fruit, and a few eggs of birds. But her throat was so contracted by long fasting, that she could hardly swallow. These served to keep life in her frame.
Eight long days she wandered in this manner hopelessly, and strove to sustain her wretched existence. If one should read in a work of fiction any thing equal to it, he would charge the author with exaggeration, and violation of probability. But it is history; and, however incredible her story may sound, it is rigidly conformed to the truth in all its circumstances, as it was afterwards taken down from the mouth of Madame Godin herself.
On the eighth day of her hopeless wandering, the hapless lady reached the banks of the Bobonosa, a stream which flows into the Amazon. At the break of day, she heard at a little distance a noise, and was alarmed at it. She would have fled, but at once reflected that nothing worse than her present circumstances could happen to her. She took courage, and went towards the place whence the sound proceeded; and here she found two Indians, who were occupied in shoving their boat into the water.
Madame Godin approached, and was kindly received by them. She told to them her desire to be conveyed to Andoas; and the good savages consented to carry her thither in their boat. They did so; and now behold her arrived at that place which the mean and infamous treachery of Mr. R. was the only cause of her not having reached long ago. This base fellow had, with unfeeling cruelty, thrown to the winds his promise to procure them a boat, and had gone on business of his own to Omaguas, a Spanish mission station, without in the least troubling himself about his pledged word, and the rescue of the unfortunates left behind. The honest negro was more true to duty, though he was born and bred a heathen, and the other a Christian.
While the civilized and polished Frenchman unfeelingly went away, and left his benefactress and her companions to languish in the depths of misery, the sable heathen ceased not his exertions till he had procured two Indians to go up the river with him, and bring away his deserted mistress and her companions. But, most unfortunately, he did not reach the hut where he had left them before they had carried into execution the unlucky determination to leave the hut, and seek their way through the wilderness. So he had the pain of failing to find her on his arrival.
Even then, the faithful creature did not feel as if all was done. He, with his Indian companions, followed the traces of the party till he came to the place where the bodies of the perished adventurers lay, which were already so decayed, that he could not distinguish one from the other. This pitiable sight led him to conclude that none of the company could have escaped death. He returned to the hut to take away some things of Madame Godin's which were left there, and carried them not only back with him to Andoas, but from thence (another touching proof of his fidelity) to Omaguas, that he might deposit the articles, some of which were of considerable value, in the hands of the unworthy Mr. R., to be by him delivered to the father of his lamented mistress.
And how did this unworthy Mr. R. behave when he was apprised by the negro of the lamentable death of those whom he had so unscrupulously given over to destitution? Did he shudder at the magnitude and baseness of his crime? Oh, no! Like a heartless knave, he added dishonesty to cruelty, took the things into his keeping, and, to secure himself in the possession of them, sent the generous negro back to Quito. Joachim – for that was the name of this honest and noble black man – had unluckily set out on his journey back before Madame Godin arrived at Andoas. Thus he was lost to her; and her affliction at the loss of such a tried friend showed that the greatness of her past misfortunes had not made her incapable of feeling new distresses.
In Andoas she found a Christian priest, a Spanish missionary; and the behavior of this unchristian Christian contrasts with the conduct of her two Indian preservers, as that of the treacherous R. with that of the generous negro. For instance, when Madame Godin was in embarrassment how to show her gratitude to the good Indians who had saved her life, she remembered, that, according to the custom of the country, she wore around her neck a pair of gold chains, weighing about four ounces. These were her whole remaining property; but she hesitated not a moment, but took them off, and gave one to each of her benefactors. They were delighted beyond measure at such a gift; but the avaricious and dishonest priest took them away from them before the face of the generous giver, and gave them instead some yards of coarse cotton cloth, which they call, in that country, Tukujo. And this man was one of those who were sent to spread Christianity among the heathen, and one from whom those same Indians whom he had treated so dishonestly would hear the lesson, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods"!
Madame Godin felt, at seeing such unchristian and unmanly behavior, such deep disgust, that, as soon as she was somewhat recruited from the effects of so many sufferings, she longed for a sight of some boat to enable her to escape from the companionship of this unjust priest, and get to Laguna, one of the aforementioned Spanish mission stations. A kind Indian woman made her a petticoat of cotton cloth, though Madame Godin had nothing to give her in payment for it. But this petticoat was to her, afterwards, a sacred thing, that she would not have parted with for any price. She laid it carefully away with the slippers which she made of her brothers' shoes, and never could, in after-times, look at the two without experiencing a rush of sad and tender recollections.
At Laguna she had the good fortune to find a missionary of better disposition. This one received her with kindness and sympathy, and exerted himself every way he could to restore her health, shattered by so much suffering. He wrote also on her behalf to the Governor of Omaguas, to beg him to aid in expediting her journey. By this means, the elegant Mr. R. learned that she was still alive; and as she was not likely in future to be burdensome to him, while he might, through her means, get a passage in the Portuguese vessel, he failed not to call upon her at Laguna. He delivered to her there some few of the things which Joachim had left in his charge; but to the question, "What had become of the rest?" he had no other answer to make but "They were spoilt." The knave forgot, when he said this, that gold bracelets, snuff-boxes, ear-rings, and pearls, of which this property consisted, are not apt to spoil.
Madame Godin could not forbear making to him the well-merited reproach that he was the cause of her late sufferings, and guilty of the mournful death of her brothers and her other companions. She desired to know, moreover, why he had sent away her faithful servant, the good Joachim; and his unworthy reply was, he had apprehensions that he would murder him. To the question, how he could have such a suspicion against a man whose tried fidelity and honest disposition were known to him, he knew not what to answer.
The good missionary explained to Madame Godin, after she was somewhat recruited from her late sufferings, the frightful length of the way, and the labors and dangers of her journey yet to come, and tried hard to induce her to alter her intention, and return to Rio Bambas, her former residence, instead of setting forth to encounter a new series of disappointments and perils. He promised, in that case, to convey her safely and with comfort. But the heroic woman rejected the proposal with immovable firmness. "God, who had so wonderfully protected her so far," she said, "would have her in his keeping for the remainder of her way. She had but one wish remaining, and that was to be re-united to her husband; and she knew no danger terrible enough to induce her to give up this one ruling desire of her heart."
The missionary, therefore, had a boat got ready to carry her to the Portuguese vessel. The Governor of Omaguas furnished the boat, and supplied it well with provisions: and, that the commander of the Portuguese galiot might be informed of her approach, he sent a smaller boat with provisions, and two soldiers by land, along the banks of the river, and betook himself to Loreto, where the galiot had been so long lying; and there he waited till Madame Godin arrived.
She still suffered severely from the consequences of the injuries which she had sustained during her wanderings in the wilderness. Particularly, the thumb of one hand, in which she had thrust a thorn, which they had not been able to get out, was in a bad condition. The bone itself was become carious, and she found it necessary to have the flesh cut open to allow fragments of the bone to come out. As for the rest, she experienced from the commander of the Portuguese vessel all possible kindness, and reached the mouth of the Amazon River without any further misadventure.
Mr. Godin, who still continued at Oyapoc (the same place where on account of sickness he had been obliged to stop), was no sooner informed of the approach of his wife than he went on board a vessel, and coasted along the shore till he met the galiot. The joy of again meeting, after a separation of so many years, and after such calamities undergone, was, as may well be supposed, on both sides, indescribably great. Their re-union seemed like a resurrection from the dead, since both of them had more than once given up all hope of ever seeing the other in this life.
The happy husband now conveyed his wife to Oyapoc, and thence to Cayenne; whence they departed on their return to France, in company with the venerable Mr. De Grandmaison. Madame Godin remained, however, constantly sad, notwithstanding her present ample cause for joy; and every endeavor to raise her spirits was fruitless, so deep and inextinguishable an impression had the terrible sufferings she had undergone made upon her mind. She spoke unwillingly of all that she had suffered; and even her husband found out with difficulty, and by little and little, the circumstances which we have narrated, taken from accounts under his own hand. He thought he could thereby infer that she had kept to herself, to spare his feelings, many circumstances of a distressing nature, which she herself preferred to forget. Her heart, too, was, by reason of her sufferings, so attuned to pity and forbearance, that her compassion even extended to the base and wicked men who had treated her with such injustice. She would therefore add nothing to induce her husband to invoke the vengeance of the law against the faithless Tristan, the first cause of all her misfortunes, who had converted to his own use many thousand dollars' worth of property which had been intrusted to him. She had even allowed herself to be persuaded to take on board the boat from Omaguas down, for a second time, the mean-souled Mr. R.
So true is it that adversity and suffering do fulfil the useful purpose of rendering the human heart tender, placable, and indulgent.
CHAPTER XI.
HERNDON'S EXPEDITION
In the month of August, 1850, Lieut. Herndon, of the United-States navy, being on board the frigate "Vandalia," then lying at anchor in the harbor of Valparaiso, received information that he was designated by the Secretary of the Navy to explore the Valley of the Amazon. On the 4th of April, being then at Lima, he received his orders, and, on the 21st of May, commenced his land journey to the highest point on the Amazon navigable for boats, which is about three hundred miles from its source; in which distance there are twenty-seven rapids, the last of which is called the Pongo (or falls) de Manseriche. Over these the water rushes with frightful rapidity; but they are passed, with great peril and difficulty, by means of rafts. From the Pongo de Manseriche, Lieut. Herndon states that an unbroken channel of eighteen feet in depth may be found to the Atlantic Ocean, – a distance of three thousand miles.
The party consisted of Lieut. Herndon, commander; Passed-midshipman Gibbon; a young master's mate named Richards; a young Peruvian, who had made the voyage down the Amazon a few years before, who was employed as interpreter to the Indians; and Mauricio, an Indian servant. They were mounted on mules; and their baggage of all kinds, including looking-glasses, beads, and other trinkets for the Indians, and some supplies of provisions, were carried also on muleback, under the charge of an arriero, or muleteer, who was an Indian. The party were furnished with a tent, which often came in use for nightly shelter, as the roadside inns furnished none, and the haciendas, or farm-houses, which they sometimes availed themselves of, afforded but poor accommodation. The following picture of the lieutenant's first night's lodgings, not more than ten miles from Lima, is a specimen: "The house was built of adobe, or sun-dried bricks, and roofed with tiles. It had but one room, which was the general receptacle for all comers. A mud projection, of two feet high and three wide, stood out from the walls of the room all around, and served as a permanent bedplace for numbers. Others laid their blankets and cloaks, and stretched themselves, on the floor; so that, with whites, Indians, negroes, trunks, packages, horse-furniture, game-cocks, and guinea-pigs, we had quite a caravansera appearance."
The lieutenant found the general answer to his inquiry for provisions for his party, and of fodder for their animals, was, "No hay" (there is none). The refusal of the people to sell supplies of these indispensable articles was a source of continued inconvenience. It arose probably from their fear to have it known that they had possessions, lest the hand of authority should be laid upon them, and their property be taken without payment. The cultivators, it must be remembered, are native Indians, under the absolute control of their Spanish masters, and have no recognized rights protected by law. While this state of things continues, civilization is effectually debarred progress.
The usual day's travel was twelve to fifteen miles. The route ascended rapidly; and the River Rimac, along whose banks their road lay, was soon reduced to a mountain torrent, raging in foam over the fragments of the rocky cliffs which overhung its bed. The road occasionally widened out, and gave room for a little cultivation.
May 27. – They had now reached a height of ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here the traveller feels that he is lifted above the impurities of the lower regions of the atmosphere, and is breathing air free from taint. The stars sparkled with intense brilliancy. The temperature at night was getting cool, and the travellers found they required all their blankets. But by day the heat was oppressive until tempered by the sea-breeze, which set in about eleven o'clock in the morning.
The productions of the country are Indian corn, alfalfa (a species of lucern), and potatoes. The potato, in this its native country, is small, but very fine. They saw here a vegetable of the potato kind called oca. Boiled or roasted, it is very agreeable to the taste, in flavor resembling green corn.
Here they entered upon the mining region. "The Earth here shows her giant skeleton bare: mountains, rather than rocks, rear their gray heads to the skies; and proximity made the scene more striking and sublime." Lieut. Herndon had brought letters to the superintendent of the mines, who received the travellers kindly and hospitably. This establishment is managed by a superintendent and three assistants, and about forty working hands. The laborers are Indians, – strong, hardy-looking fellows, though low in stature, and stupid in expression. The manner of getting the silver from the ore is this: The ore is broken into pieces of the size of an English walnut, and then ground to a fine powder. The ground ore is then mixed with salt, at the rate of fifty pounds of salt to every six hundred of ore, and taken to the ovens to be toasted. After being toasted, the ore is laid in piles of about six hundred pounds upon the stone floor. The piles are then moistened with water, and quicksilver is sprinkled on them through a woollen cloth. The mass is well mixed by treading with the feet, and working with hoes. A little calcined iron pyrites, called magistral, is also added. The pile is often examined to see if the amalgamation is going on well. It is left to stand for eight or nine days until the amalgamation is complete; then carried to an elevated platform, and thrown into a well, or cavity: a stream of water is turned on, and four or five men trample and wash it with their feet. The amalgam sinks to the bottom, and the mud and water are let off by an aperture in the lower part of the well. The amalgam is then put into conical bags of coarse linen, which are hung up; and the weight of the mass presses out a quantity of quicksilver, which oozes through the linen, and is caught in vessels below. The mass, now dry, and somewhat harder than putty, is carried to the ovens, where the remainder of the quicksilver is driven off by heat, and the residue is plata pina, or pure silver. The proportion of pure silver in the amalgam is about twenty-two per cent. This is an unusually rich mine.
Returning from the mine, the party met a drove of llamas on their way from the hacienda. This is quite an imposing sight, especially when the drove is encountered suddenly at a turn of the road. The leader, who is always selected on account of his superior height, has his head decorated with tufts of woollen fringe, hung with little bells; and his great height (often six feet), gallant and graceful carriage, pointed ear, restless eye, and quivering lip, as he faces you for a moment, make him as striking an object as one can well conceive. Upon pressing on him, he bounds aside either up or down the cliff, and is followed by the herd, scrambling over places that would be impassable for the mule or the ass. The llama travels not more than nine or ten miles a day, his load being about one hundred and thirty pounds. He will not carry more, and will be beaten to death rather than move when he is overloaded or tired. The males only are worked: they appear gentle and docile, but, when irritated, have a very savage look, and spit at the object of their resentment. The guanaco, or alpaca, is another species of this animal, and the vicunia a third. The guanaco is as large as the llama, and bears a fleece of long and coarse wool. The vicunia is much smaller, and its wool is short and fine: so valuable is it, that it brings at the port of shipment a dollar a pound. Our travellers saw no guanacos, but now and then, in crossing the mountains, caught a glimpse of the wild and shy vicunia. They go in herds of ten or fifteen females, accompanied by one male, who is ever on the alert. On the approach of danger, he gives warning by a shrill whistle; and his charge make off with the speed of the wind.
On the 31st of May, the thermometer stood at thirty-six degrees at five, A.M. This, it must be remembered, was in the torrid zone, in the same latitude as Congo in Africa, and Sumatra in Asia; yet how different the climate! This is owing to the elevation, which at this water-shed of the continent, which separates the rivers of the Atlantic from those of the Pacific, was about sixteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. The peaks of the Cordillera presented the appearance of a hilly country at home on a winter's day; while the lower ranges were dressed in bright green, with placid little lakes interspersed, giving an air of quiet beauty to the scene.
The travellers next arrived at Morococha, where they found copper-mining to be the prevailing occupation. The copper ore is calcined in the open air, in piles consisting of ore and coal, which burn for a month. The ore thus calcined is taken to the ovens; and sufficient heat is employed to melt the copper, which runs off into moulds below. The copper, in this state, is impure, containing fifty per cent of foreign matter; and is worth fifteen cents the pound in England, where it is refined. There is a mine of fine coal near the hacienda, which yields an abundant supply.
The travellers passed other mining districts, rich in silver and copper. A large portion of the silver which forms the circulation of the world is dug from the range of mountains which they were now crossing, and chiefly from that slope of them which is drained off into the Amazon.
Their descent, after leaving the mining country, was rapid. On June 6, we find them at the head of a ravine leading down to the Valley of Tarma. The height of this spot above the level of the sea was 11,270 feet. As they rode down the steep descent, the plants and flowers that they had left on the other side began to re-appear. First the short grass and small clover, then barley, lucern, Indian corn, beans, turnips, shrubs, bushes, trees, flowers, growing larger and gayer in their colors, till the pretty little city of Tarma, imbosomed among the hills, and enveloped in its covering of willows and fruit-trees, with its long lawns of alfalfa (the greenest of grasses) stretching out in front, broke upon their view. It is a place of seven thousand inhabitants, beautifully situated in an amphitheatre of mountains, which are clothed nearly to the top with waving fields of barley. The lieutenant gives an attractive description of this mountain city, whose natural productions extend from the apples and peaches of the temperate zone to the oranges and pine-apples of the tropics; and whose air is so temperate and pure, that there was but one physician to a district of twenty thousand people, and he was obliged to depend upon government for a part of his support.
The party left Tarma on the 16th of June, and resumed their descent of the mountains. The ride was the wildest they had yet had. The ascents and descents were nearly precipitous; and the scene was rugged, wild, and grand beyond description. At certain parts of the road, it is utterly impossible for two beasts to pass abreast, or for one to turn and retreat; and the only remedy, when they meet, is to tumble one off the precipice, or to drag him back by the tail until he reaches a place where the other can pass. They met with a considerable fright in this way one day. They were riding in single file along one of those narrow ascents where the road is cut out of the mountain-side, and the traveller has a perpendicular wall on one hand, and a sheer precipice of many hundreds of feet upon the other. Mr. Gibbon was riding ahead. Just as he was about to turn a sharp bend of the road, the head of a bull peered round it, on the descent. When the bull came in full view, he stopped; and the travellers could see the heads of other cattle clustering over his quarters, and hear the shouts of the cattle-drivers far behind, urging on their herd. The bull, with lowered crest, and savage, sullen look, came slowly on, and actually got his head between the perpendicular rock and the neck of Gibbon's mule. But the sagacious beast on which he was mounted, pressing her haunches hard against the wall, gathered her feet close under her, and turned as upon a pivot. This placed the bull on the outside (there was room to pass, though no one would have thought it); and he rushed by at the gallop, followed in single file by the rest of the herd. The lieutenant owns that he and his friend "felt frightened."
On the 18th of June, they arrived at the first hacienda, where they saw sugar-cane, yucca, pine-apples, and plantains. Besides these, cotton and coffee were soon after found in cultivation. The laborers are native Indians, nominally free, but, by the customs of the country, pretty closely held in subjection to their employers. Their nominal wages are half a dollar a day; but this is paid in articles necessary for their support, which are charged to them at such prices as to keep them always in debt. As debtors, the law will enforce the master's claim on them; and it is almost hopeless for them to desert; for, unless they get some distance off before they are recognized, they will be returned as debtors to their employers. Freedom, under such circumstances, is little better than slavery; but it is better, for this reason, – that it only requires some improvement in the intelligence and habits of the laborers to convert it into a system of free labor worthy of the name.
The yucca (cassava-root) is a plant of fifteen or twenty feet in height. It is difficult to distinguish this plant from the mandioc, which is called "wild yucca;" and this, "sweet yucca." This may be eaten raw; but the other is poisonous until subjected to heat in cooking, and then is perfectly wholesome. The yucca answers the same purpose in Peru that the mandioc does in Brazil. It is the general substitute for bread, and, roasted or boiled, is very pleasant to the taste. The Indians also make from it an intoxicating drink. Each plant will give from twenty to twenty-five pounds of the eatable root, which grows in clusters like the potato, and some tubers of which are as long and thick as a man's arm.