CHAPTER XIV.
HERNDON'S EXPEDITION CONCLUDED
On Jan. 4, at about the point of the junction of the Purus River with the Amazon, Lieut. Herndon remarks, "The banks of the river are now losing the character of savage and desolate solitude that characterizes them above, and begin to show signs of habitation and cultivation. We passed to-day several farms, with neatly framed and plastered houses, and a schooner-rigged vessel lying off several of them."
They arrived at the junction of the River Negro. This is one of the largest of the tributaries of the Amazon, and derives its name from the blackness of its waters. When taken up in a tumbler, the water is a light-red color, like a pale juniper-water, and is probably colored by some such berry. This river, opposite the town of Barra, is about a mile and a half wide, and very beautiful. It is navigable for almost any draughts to the Masaya, a distance of about four hundred miles: there the rapids commence, and the farther ascent must be made in boats. By this river, a communication exists with the Orinoco, by means of a remarkable stream, the Cassaquiare, which seems to have been formed for the sole purpose of connecting these two majestic rivers, and the future dwellers upon them, in the bonds of perpetual union. Humboldt, the great traveller and philosopher, thus speaks of it, "The Cassaquiare, as broad as the Rhine, and whose course is one hundred and eighty miles in length, will not much longer form in vain a navigable canal between two basins of rivers which have a surface of one hundred and ninety thousand square leagues. The grain of New Grenada will be carried to the banks of the Rio Negro; boats will descend from the sources of the Napo and the Ucayali, from the Andes of Quito and Upper Peru, to the mouths of the Orinoco. A country nine or ten times larger than Spain, and enriched with the most varied productions, is accessible in every direction by the medium of the natural canal of the Cassaquiare and the bifurcation of the rivers."
The greatest of all the tributaries of the Amazon is the Madeira, whose junction our travellers next reached. For four hundred and fifty miles from its mouth, there is good navigation: then occur cascades, which are navigable only for boats, and occupy three hundred and fifty miles, above which the river is navigable for large vessels, by its great tributaries, into Bolivia and Brazil.
They next entered the country where the cocoa is regularly cultivated; and the banks of the river present a much less desolate and savage appearance than they do above. The cocoa-trees have a yellow-colored leaf; and this, together with their regularity of size, distinguishes them from the surrounding forest. Lieut. Herndon says, "I do not know a prettier place than one of these plantations. The trees interlock their branches, and, with their large leaves, make a shade impenetrable to any ray of the sun; and the large, golden-colored fruits, hanging from branch and trunk, shine through the green with a most beautiful effect. This is the time of the harvest; and we found the people of every plantation engaged in the open space before the house in breaking open the shells of the fruit, and spreading the seed to dry in the sun. They make a pleasant drink for a hot day by pressing out the juice of the gelatinous pulp that envelops the seeds. It is called cocoa-wine: it is a white, viscid liquor, has an agreeable, acid taste, and is very refreshing."
We must hasten on, and pass without notice many spots of interest on the river; but, as we have now reached a comparatively civilized and known region, it is less necessary to be particular. The Tapajos River stretches its branches to the town of Diamantino, situated at the foot of the mountains, where diamonds are found. Lieut. Herndon saw some of the diamonds and gold-sand in the possession of a resident of Santarem, who had traded much on the river. The gold-dust appeared to him equal in quality to that he had seen from California. Gold and diamonds, which are always united in this region as in many others, are found especially in the numerous water-courses, and also throughout the whole country. After the rains, the children of Diamantino hunt for the gold contained in the earth even of the streets, and in the bed of the River Ouro, which passes through the city; and they often collect considerable quantities. It is stated that diamonds are sometimes found in the stomachs of the fowls. The quantity of diamonds found in a year varies from two hundred and fifty to five hundred oitavas; the oitava being about seventeen carats. The value depends upon the quality and size of the specimen, and can hardly be reduced to an estimate. It is seldom that a stone of over half an oitava is found; and such a one is worth from two to three hundred dollars.
As an offset to the gold and diamonds, we have this picture of the climate: "From the rising to the setting of the sun, clouds of stinging insects blind the traveller, and render him frantic by the torments they cause. Take a handful of the finest sand, and throw it above your head, and you would then have but a faint idea of the number of these demons who tear the skin to pieces. It is true, these insects disappear at night, but only to give place to others yet more formidable. Large bats (true, thirsty vampires) literally throng the forests, cling to the hammocks, and, finding a part of the body exposed, rest lightly there, and drain it of blood. The alligators are so numerous, and the noise they make so frightful, that it is impossible to sleep."
At Santarem they were told the tide was perceptible, but did not perceive it. At Gurupa it was very apparent. This point is about five hundred miles from the sea. About thirty-five miles below Gurupa commences the great estuary of the Amazon. The river suddenly flows out into an immense bay, which might appropriately be called the "bay of a thousand islands;" for it is cut up into innumerable channels. The travellers ran for days through channels varying from fifty to five hundred yards in width, between numberless islands. This is the India-rubber country. The shores are low: indeed, one seldom sees the land at all; the trees on the banks generally standing in the water. The party stopped at one of the establishments for making India-rubber. The house was built of light poles, and on piles, to keep it out of the water, which flowed under and around it. This was the store, and, rude as it was, was a palace compared to the hut of the laborer who gathers the India-rubber. The process is as follows: A longitudinal gash is made in the bark of the tree with a hatchet. A wedge of wood is inserted to keep the gash open; and a small clay cup is stuck to the tree, beneath the gash. The cups may be stuck as close together as possible around the tree. In four or five hours, the milk has ceased to run, and each wound has given from three to five table-spoonfuls. The gatherer then collects it from the cups, pours it into an earthen vessel, and commences the operation of forming it into shapes, and smoking it. This must be done at once, as the juice soon coagulates. A fire is made on the ground, and a rude funnel placed over it to collect the smoke. The maker of the rubber now takes his last, if he is making shoes, or his mould, which is fastened to the end of a stick, pours the milk over it with a cup, and passes it slowly several times through the smoke until it is dry. He then pours on the other coats until he has the required thickness, smoking each coating till it is dry. From twenty to forty coats make a shoe. The soles and heels are, of course, given more coats than the body of the shoe. The figures on the shoes are made by tracing them on the rubber, while soft, with a coarse needle, or bit of wire. This is done two days after the coating. In a week, the shoes are taken from the last. The coating occupies about twenty-five minutes.
The tree is tall, straight, and has a smooth bark. It sometimes reaches a diameter of thirteen inches or more. Each incision makes a rough wound on the tree, which, although it does not kill it, renders it useless, because a smooth place is wanted to which to attach the cups. The milk is white and tasteless, and may be taken into the stomach with impunity.
Our travellers arrived at Pará on the 12th of April, 1852, and were most hospitably and kindly received by Mr. Norris, the American consul.
The journey of our travellers ends here. Lieut. Herndon's book is full of instruction, conveyed in a pleasant style. He seems to have manifested throughout good judgment, good temper, energy, and industry. He had no collisions with the authorities or with individuals, and, on his part, seems to have met friendly feelings and good offices throughout his whole route.
William Lewis Herndon was born in Fredericksburg, Va., on the 25th of October, 1813. He entered the navy at the age of fifteen; served in the Mexican war; and was afterwards engaged for three years, with his brother-in-law, Lieut. Maury, in the National Observatory at Washington. In 1851-2, he explored the Amazon River, under commission of the United-States Government. In 1857, he was commander of the steamer "Central America," which left Havana for New York on Sept. 8, having on board four hundred and seventy-four passengers and a crew of one hundred and five men, and about two million dollars of gold. On Sept. 11, during a violent gale from the north-east and a heavy sea, she sprung a leak, and sunk, on the evening of Sept. 12, near the outer edge of the Gulf Stream, in lat. 31° 44´ N. Only one hundred and fifty of the persons on board were saved, including the women and children. The gallant commander of the steamer was seen standing upon the wheel-house at the time of her sinking.
In a former chapter, we have told the fate of Sir Humphrey Gilbert. How fair a counterpart of that heroic death is this of the gallant Herndon!
CHAPTER XV.
LATEST EXPLORATIONS
In the year 1845, an English gentleman, Henry Walter Bates, visited the region of the Amazon for the purpose of scientific exploration. He went prepared to spend years in the country, in order to study diligently its natural productions. His stay was protracted until 1859, during which time he resided successively at Pará, Santarem, Ega, Barra, and other places; making his abode for months, or even years, in each. His account of his observations and discoveries was published after his return, and affords us the best information we possess respecting the country, its inhabitants, and its productions, brought down almost to the present time. Our extracts relate to the cities, the river and its shores, the inhabitants civilized and savage, the great tributary rivers, the vegetation, and the animals of various kinds.
Before proceeding with our extracts, we will remark the various names of the river.
It is sometimes called, from the name of its discoverer, "Orellana." This name is appropriate and well-sounding, but is not in general use.
The name of "Marañon," pronounced Maranyon, is still often used. It is probably derived from the natives.
It is called "The River of the Amazons," from the fable of its former inhabitants.
This name is shortened into "The Amazons," and, without the plural sign, "The Amazon," in common use.
Above the junction of the River Negro, the river is designated as "The Upper Amazon," or "Solimoens."
PARÁ
"On the morning of the 28th of May, 1848, we arrived at our destination. The appearance of the city at sunrise was pleasing in the highest degree. It is built on a low tract of land, having only one small rocky elevation at its southern extremity: it therefore affords no amphitheatral view from the river; but the white buildings roofed with red tiles, the numerous towers and cupolas of churches and convents, the crowns of palm-trees reared above the buildings, all sharply defined against the clear blue sky, give an appearance of lightness and cheerfulness which is most exhilarating. The perpetual forest hems the city in on all sides landwards; and, towards the suburbs, picturesque country-houses are seen scattered about, half buried in luxuriant foliage.
"The impressions received during our first walk can never wholly fade from my mind. After traversing the few streets of tall, gloomy, convent-looking buildings near the port, inhabited chiefly by merchants and shopkeepers; along which idle soldiers, dressed in shabby uniforms, carrying their muskets carelessly over their arms; priests; negresses with red water-jars on their heads; sad-looking Indian women, carrying their naked children astride on their hips; and other samples of the motley life of the place, – were seen; we passed down a long, narrow street leading to the suburbs. Beyond this, our road lay across a grassy common, into a picturesque lane leading to the virgin forest. The long street was inhabited by the poorer class of the population. The houses were mostly in a dilapidated condition; and signs of indolence and neglect were everywhere visible. But amidst all, and compensating every defect, rose the overpowering beauty of the vegetation. The massive dark crowns of shady mangoes were seen everywhere among the dwellings, amidst fragrant, blossoming orange, lemon, and other tropical fruit-trees, – some in flower, others in fruit at various stages of ripeness. Here and there, shooting above the more dome-like and sombre trees, were the smooth columnar stems of palms, bearing aloft their magnificent crowns of finely-cut fronds. On the boughs of the taller and more ordinary-looking trees sat tufts of curiously leaved parasites. Slender woody lianas hung in festoons from the branches, or were suspended in the form of cords and ribbons; while luxuriant creeping plants overran alike tree-trunks, roofs, and walls, or toppled over palings in copious profusion of foliage.
"As we continued our walk, the brief twilight commenced; and the sounds of multifarious life came from the vegetation around, – the whirring of cicadas; the shrill stridulation of a vast number of crickets and grasshoppers, each species sounding its peculiar note; the plaintive hooting of tree-frogs, all blended together in one continuous ringing sound, – the audible expression of the teeming profusion of Nature. This uproar of life, I afterwards found, never wholly ceased, night or day: in course of time, I became, like other residents, accustomed to it. After my return to England, the death-like stillness of summer days in the country appeared to me as strange as the ringing uproar did on my first arrival at Pará."
CAMETÁ
"I staid at Cametá five weeks, and made a considerable collection of the natural productions of the neighborhood. The town, in 1849, was estimated to contain about five thousand inhabitants. The productions of the district are cacao, India-rubber, and Brazil nuts. The most remarkable feature in the social aspect of the place is the mixed nature of the population, – the amalgamation of the white and Indian races being here complete. The aborigines were originally very numerous on the western bank of the Tocantins; the principal tribe being the Cametás, from which the city takes its name. They were a superior nation, settled, and attached to agriculture, and received with open arms the white immigrants who were attracted to the district by its fertility, natural beauty, and the healthfulness of the climate. The Portuguese settlers were nearly all males. The Indian women were good-looking, and made excellent wives; so the natural result has been, in the course of two centuries, a complete blending of the two races.
"The town consists of three long streets running parallel to the river, with a few shorter ones crossing them at right angles. The houses are very plain; being built, as usual in this country, simply of a strong framework, filled up with mud, and coated with white plaster. A few of them are of two or three stories. There are three churches, and also a small theatre, where a company of native actors, at the time of my visit, were representing light Portuguese plays with considerable taste and ability. The people have a reputation all over the province for energy and perseverance; and it is often said that they are as keen in trade as the Portuguese. The lower classes are as indolent and sensual here as in other parts of the province, – a moral condition not to be wondered at, where perpetual summer reigns, and where the necessaries of life are so easily obtained. But they are light-hearted, quick-witted, communicative, and hospitable. I found here a native poet, who had written some pretty verses, showing an appreciation of the natural beauties of the country; and was told that the Archbishop of Bahia, the primate of Brazil, was a native of Cametá. It is interesting to find the mamelucos (half-breeds) displaying talent and enterprise; for it shows that degeneracy does not necessarily result from the mixture of white and Indian blood.
"The forest behind Cametá is traversed by several broad roads, which lead over undulating ground many miles into the interior. They pass generally under shade, and part of the way through groves of coffee and orange trees, fragrant plantations of cacao, and tracts of second-growth woods. The narrow, broad-watered valleys, with which the land is intersected, alone have remained clothed with primeval forest, at least near the town. The houses along these beautiful roads belong chiefly to mameluco, mulatto, and Indian families, each of which has its own small plantation. There are only a few planters with large establishments; and these have seldom more than a dozen slaves. Besides the main roads, there are endless by-paths, which thread the forest, and communicate with isolated houses. Along these the traveller may wander day after day, without leaving the shade, and everywhere meet with cheerful, simple, and hospitable people."
RIVERS AND CREEKS
"We made many excursions down the Irritiri, and saw much of these creeks. The Magoary is a magnificent channel: the different branches form quite a labyrinth, and the land is everywhere of little elevation. All these smaller rivers throughout the Pará estuary are of the nature of creeks. The land is so level, that the short local rivers have no sources and downward currents, like rivers, as we understand them. They serve the purpose of draining the land; but, instead of having a constant current one way, they have a regular ebb and flow with the tide. The natives call them igarapés, or canoe-paths. They are characteristic of the country. The land is everywhere covered with impenetrable forests: the houses and villages are all on the water-side, and nearly all communication is by water. This semi-aquatic life of the people is one of the most interesting features of the country. For short excursions, and for fishing in still waters, a small boat, called montaria, is universally used. It is made of five planks, – a broad one for the bottom, bent into the proper shape by the action of heat, two narrow ones for the sides, and two triangular pieces for stem and stern. It has no rudder: the paddle serves for both steering and propelling. The montaria takes here the place of the horse, mule, or camel of other regions. Besides one or more montarias, almost every family has a larger canoe, called igarité. This is fitted with two masts, a rudder, and keel, and has an arched awning or cabin near the stern, made of a framework of tough lianas, thatched with palm-leaves. In the igarité, they will cross stormy rivers fifteen or twenty miles broad. The natives are all boat-builders. It is often remarked by white residents, that the Indian is a carpenter and shipwright by intuition. It is astonishing to see in what crazy vessels these people will risk themselves. I have seen Indians cross rivers in a leaky montaria when it required the nicest equilibrium to keep the leak just above water: a movement of a hair's-breadth would send all to the bottom; but they manage to cross in safety. If a squall overtakes them as they are crossing in a heavily-laden canoe, they all jump overboard, and swim about until the heavy sea subsides, when they re-embark."
JUNCTION OF THE MADEIRA
"Our course lay through narrow channels between islands. We passed the last of these, and then beheld to the south a sea-like expanse of water, where the Madeira, the greatest tributary of the Amazons, after two thousand miles of course, blends its waters with those of the king of rivers. I was hardly prepared for a junction of waters on so vast a scale as this, now nearly nine hundred miles from the sea. While travelling week after week along the somewhat monotonous stream, often hemmed in between islands, and becoming thoroughly familiar with it, my sense of the magnitude of this vast water-system had become gradually deadened; but this noble sight renewed the first feelings of wonder. One is inclined, in such places as these, to think the Paraenses do not exaggerate much when they call the Amazons the Mediterranean of South America. Beyond the mouth of the Madeira, the Amazons sweeps down in a majestic reach, to all appearance not a whit less in breadth before than after this enormous addition to its waters. The Madeira does not ebb and flow simultaneously with the Amazons; it rises and sinks about two months earlier: so that it was now fuller than the main river. Its current, therefore, poured forth freely from its mouth, carrying with it a long line of floating trees, and patches of grass, which had been torn from its crumbly banks in the lower part of its course. The current, however, did not reach the middle of the main stream, but swept along nearer to the southern shore.
"The Madeira is navigable 480 miles from its mouth: a series of cataracts and rapids then commences, which extends, with some intervals of quiet water, about 160 miles, beyond which is another long stretch of navigable stream."
JUNCTION OF THE RIO NEGRO
"A brisk wind from the east sprung up early in the morning of the 22d: we then hoisted all sail, and made for the mouth of the Rio Negro. This noble stream, at its junction with the Amazons, seems, from its position, to be a direct continuation of the main river; while the Solimoens, which joins it at an angle, and is somewhat narrower than its tributary, appears to be a branch, instead of the main trunk, of the vast water-system.
"The Rio Negro broadens considerably from its mouth upward, and presents the appearance of a great lake; its black-dyed waters having no current, and seeming to be dammed up by the impetuous flow of the yellow, turbid Solimoens, which here belches forth a continuous line of uprooted trees, and patches of grass, and forms a striking contrast with its tributary. In crossing, we passed the line a little more than half-way over, where the waters of the two rivers meet, and are sharply demarcated from each other. On reaching the opposite shore, we found a remarkable change. All our insect pests had disappeared, as if by magic, even from the hold of the canoe: the turmoil of an agitated, swiftly-flowing river, and its torn, perpendicular, earthy banks, had given place to tranquil water, and a coast indented with snug little bays, fringed with sloping, sandy beaches. The low shore, and vivid, light-green, endlessly varied foliage, which prevailed on the south side of the Amazons, were exchanged for a hilly country, clothed with a sombre, rounded, and monotonous forest. A light wind carried us gently along the coast to the city of Barra, which lies about seven or eight miles within the mouth of the river.
"The town of Barra is built on a tract of elevated but very uneven land, on the left bank of the Rio Negro, and contained, in 1850, about three thousand inhabitants. It is now the principal station for the lines of steamers which were established in 1853; and passengers and goods are trans-shipped here for the Solimoens and Peru. A steamer runs once a fortnight between Pará and Barra; and another as often between this place and Nauta, in the Peruvian territory."
MAMELUCOS, OR HALF-BREEDS
"We landed at one of the cacao-plantations. The house was substantially built; the walls formed of strong, upright posts, lathed across, plastered with mud, and whitewashed; and the roof tiled. The family were Mamelucos, or offspring of the European and the Indian. They seemed to be an average sample of the poorer class of cacao-growers. All were loosely dressed, and barefooted. A broad veranda extended along one side of the house, the floor of which was simply the well-trodden earth; and here hammocks were slung between the bare upright supports, a large rush-mat being spread on the ground, upon which the stout, matron-like mistress, with a tame parrot perched upon her shoulder, sat sewing with two pretty-looking mulatto-girls. The master, coolly clad in shirt and drawers, the former loose about his neck, lay in his hammock, smoking a long gaudily painted wooden pipe. The household utensils – earthenware jars, water-pots, and sauce-pans – lay at one end, near which was a wood-fire, with the ever-ready coffee-pot simmering on the top of a clay tripod. A large shed stood a short distance off, embowered in a grove of banana, papaw, and mango trees; and under it were the troughs, ovens, sieves, and other apparatus, for the preparation of mandioc. The cleared space around the house was only a few yards in extent: beyond it lay the cacao-plantations, which stretched on each side parallel to the banks of the river. There was a path through the forest, which led to the mandioc-fields, and, several miles beyond, to other houses on the banks of an interior channel. We were kindly received, as is always the case when a stranger visits these out-of-the-way habitations; the people being invariably civil and hospitable. We had a long chat, took coffee; and, on departing, one of the daughters sent a basketful of oranges, for our use, down to the canoe."
MÚRA INDIANS
"On the 9th of January, we arrived at Matari, a miserable little settlement of Múra Indians. Here we again anchored, and went ashore. The place consisted of about twenty slightly built mud-hovels, and had a most forlorn appearance, notwithstanding the luxuriant forest in its rear. The absence of the usual cultivated trees and plants gave the place a naked and poverty-stricken aspect. I entered one of the hovels, where several women were employed cooking a meal. Portions of a large fish were roasting over a fire made in the middle of the low chamber; and the entrails were scattered about the floor, on which the women, with their children, were squatted. These had a timid, distrustful expression of countenance; and their bodies were begrimed with black mud, which is smeared over the skin as a protection against musquitoes. The children were naked: the women wore petticoats of coarse cloth, stained in blotches with murixi, a dye made from the bark of a tree. One of them wore a necklace of monkey's teeth. There were scarcely any household utensils: the place was bare, with the exception of two dirty grass hammocks hung in the corners. I missed the usual mandioc-sheds behind the house, with their surrounding cotton, cacao, coffee, and lemon trees. Two or three young men of the tribe were lounging about the low, open doorway. They were stoutly-built fellows, but less well-proportioned than the semi-civilized Indians of the Lower Amazons generally are. The gloomy savagery, filth, and poverty of the people in this place made me feel quite melancholy; and I was glad to return to the canoe."
MARAUÁ TRIBE
A pleasanter picture is presented by the Indians of the Marauá tribe. Our traveller thus describes a visit to them: —
"Our longest trip was to some Indian houses, a distance of fifteen or eighteen miles up the Sapó; a journey made with one Indian paddler, and occupying a whole day. The stream is not more than forty or fifty yards broad: its waters are dark in color, and flow, as in all these small rivers, partly under shade, between two lofty walls of forest. We passed, in ascending, seven habitations, most of them hidden in the luxuriant foliage of the banks; their sites being known only by small openings in the compact wall of forest, and the presence of a canoe or two tied up in little shady ports. The inhabitants are chiefly Indians of the Marauá tribe, whose original territory comprises all the by-streams lying between the Jutahí and the Juruá, near the mouths of both these great tributaries. They live in separate families, or small hordes; have no common chief; and are considered as a tribe little disposed to adopt civilized customs, or be friendly with the whites. One of the houses belonged to a Jurí family; and we saw the owner, an erect, noble-looking old fellow, tattooed, as customary with his tribe, in a large patch over the middle of his face, fishing, under the shade of a colossal tree, with hook and line. He saluted us in the usual grave and courteous manner of the better sort of Indians as we passed by.
"We reached the last house, or rather two houses, about ten o'clock, and spent there several hours during the heat of the day. The houses, which stood on a high, clayey bank, were of quadrangular shape, partly open, like sheds, and partly enclosed with rude, mud walls, forming one or two chambers. The inhabitants, a few families of Marauás, received us in a frank, smiling manner. None of them were tattooed: but the men had great holes pierced in their ear-lobes, in which they insert plugs of wood; and their lips were drilled with smaller holes. One of the younger men, a fine, strapping fellow, nearly six feet high, with a large aquiline nose, who seemed to wish to be particularly friendly to me, showed me the use of these lip-holes, by fixing a number of little sticks in them, and then twisting his mouth about, and going through a pantomime to represent defiance in the presence of an enemy.