THE WATER TRAIL FROM GEORGETOWN TO AREMU.
We allowed ourselves only forty-eight hours in Georgetown to unpack our
specimens and prepare for our second expedition into the “bush.” This
time we were to leave the coast and strike straight inland, passing up
the Essequibo River to Bartica, thence via the Mazaruni and Cuyuni to
the Aremu and the Little Aremu rivers. Near the head-waters of this last
stream was the gold mine which marked our journey’s end, deep within the
wilderness.
On the morning of March 23d, we left Georgetown on one of Sproston’s
steamers en route for Bartica. A pair of Gray-breasted Martins[122]
accompanied us, and we found that they were nesting in an angle between
two beams of the main deck covering. Young birds were in the nest, so the
Martins must have accompanied the steamer on many of the alternate day
trips between Georgetown and Bartica. Not only this but the river boat
exchanges routes every two weeks with her sister steamer which is plying
on the outside northwest route to Morawhanna, the fortnightly change from
fresh to salt water doing away with all need for keel cleaning. So these
birds had started their nest while the boat was making her sea trips.
During much of the time we were on the boats the birds kept flying out
to each side over the water in pursuit of insects for their brood. They
sometimes went far ahead or out of sight a half mile to shore.
After entering the wide estuary mouth of the Essequibo we passed Leguan
and Hog islands, each over ten miles in length, while above these a
succession of smaller islands appeared. The river is about three miles
in width, fringed with mangroves, and we saw no life on shore save
occasional Cocoi Herons[31] feeding on the flats.
[Illustration: FIG. 101. GRAY-BREASTED MARTINS NESTING ON THE STEAMER.]
The Essequibo is the largest river in the colony and rises in the extreme
south, somewhere in the Acarai Mountains near the equator, some six
hundred miles inland. Like all the great rivers of this region it is
navigable by steamers for only a short distance, rapids and cataracts
barring the way about fifty miles above the mouth. The first great
tributary is the Mazaruni, entering from the southwest and touching with
its uttermost head-waters the very base of that mysterious lofty plateau,
Roraima, on the borders of Brazil.
We landed at the very apex of the point of land between the Essequibo and
Mazaruni rivers,—the village of Bartica or Bartica Grove. It is a most
dilapidated place, half in ruins, a single street of miserable houses
filled with blacks and coolies.
We were invited to spend the night at the house of an Englishman, Mr.
Withers, enjoying again the unfailing hospitality of the wilderness. In
a launch we proceeded three miles up the Mazaruni, and climbing a steep
hill, denuded of its forest, we turned and revelled in the magnificent
view. A small, heavily-wooded island in the foreground broke the
surface of the shining waters, and beyond, the two mighty rivers rolled
ceaselessly, joining their floods with hardly a ripple. Directly across,
on the opposite shore of the Mazaruni, the picturesque white buildings of
the penal colony could be seen, looking more like the hotels and cottages
of some watering place than like prisons. If one must be imprisoned for
life there are few places one would prefer to this!
An American company had obtained a concession of some seven thousand
acres for the purpose of raising sisel hemp, and Mr. Withers was in
charge of this important undertaking. His home, on the crest of the hill,
overlooked the surrounding rolling country, six hundred acres of which
had already been cleared during the preceding nine months and planted in
the valuable fibre plant. Here again we found a most ingenious system
of catch crops, peanuts, castor beans and corn, surrounding but not
interfering with the slower growing sisel. Their success was yet to be
proven.
A careful study of the effect on animal and plant life of this clearing
away of the forest would yield much of interest. Many sloths with young
were caught when the trees were being felled, and Goldbirds, Woodhewers,
Parrots and other forest birds had now retired some distance from the
clearing. The antlers of two deer shot here were simple spikes. Insects
of all kinds had greatly increased, and caterpillars of strange shapes
and colors were legion in number and doing their best to undo the labor
of the agriculturists. Insect-eating birds of certain types had increased
enormously, and Gray-breasted Martins,[122] Barn[121] and Variegated[119]
Swallows filled the air, while Kiskadee Tyrants of three species,[101],
[103], [104] other Flycatchers, House Wrens,[124] Seedeaters,
Hummingbirds and Honey Creepers were abundant, swooping over the open
fields, snatching insects from the air, or leaves, or ground, according
to the method of hunting of each species. The Honey Creepers[136a] were
continually getting into trouble here as elsewhere in the darkened upper
roof space of the house, and many had to be caught and liberated daily.
[Illustration: FIG. 102. COOLIES AND THEIR WIVES FISHING IN THE
ESSEQUIBO.]
Small snakes and toads are also said to have increased, due doubtless
to the increase of insect food, but the abundance of agoutis or acouris
was unfortunately only too evidently due to the supply of succulent
vegetables.
This evening the regular afternoon wind continued until late, and it
was too cool to walk about without a coat. The wind sounded anything
but tropical, howling around the eaves of the house like a northern
blizzard. The moon rose about nine o’clock—a great flat-sided ball of
orange, lighting up the pale bare fields but throwing all the jungle into
blackest shadow. Soon the light became stronger and the two southern
crosses paled from view, the false one higher up, kite like, and the
_vera cruz_, low and resting on its side.
“Sproston’s” is a company which controls many of the steamer and launch
lines of the colony, and gives remarkably good as well as reasonable
service. When the day comes that the tourist learns of the beauties of
this country, the transportation lines will become of immense value.
Now they depend principally on the many American concessions and other
interests for freight, and upon pork-knockers and bovianders for
passengers.
At nine o’clock on the following morning, travelling again on one of
Sproston’s launches, we left Mr. Withers and proceeded up the Mazaruni,
in about an hour reaching the point of its confluence with the Cuyuni.
This was as beautiful as the junction of the Essequibo and the Mazaruni
which we had left. Turning up the Cuyuni we went on and on through a
region of indescribable beauty. The noble river spreads out in a wide
smooth expanse,—a tropical Hudson with palisades of trees. It is very
shallow and when the water is low there is little but tide at this
point. Hence mangroves are dominant, becoming, however, smaller and less
numerous as we proceeded. At eleven o’clock we reached the beautiful
falls at Lower Camaria Landing and went ashore to find a delicious
breakfast prepared for us by the genial and hospitable Mr. French and
served by his aged man-servant, who was christened _Swan_, but who was
familiarly known throughout the colony as “French’s _Boy_.”
[Illustration: FIG. 103. FALLS AT LOWER CAMARIA.]
At Camaria a series of all but impassable rapids and falls occurs, and a
portage of three and a half miles is necessary. A well-made sandy wagon
trail points the way, rising gradually and then slowly descending again.
At the top of the rise the sand is of the finest and whitest quality.
Butterflies were extremely abundant along this wood road, a dozen
splendid blue Morphos being sometimes in sight at once.
One interesting species of butterfly (_Castina licus_) was very common,
flying along ahead of us with short spurts and alighting on bare twigs,
just within the shadow of the jungle. They were dark brownish above,
tinted with dull orange and green and with four broad streaks of white
across the wings. They were perfectly protected in the positions of rest
which they chose on small bare twigs, the brown merging invisibly with
the dark recesses of the undergrowth beyond, while the white markings
exactly simulated a white orchid blossom, sprouting, as so many of them
do, from a leafless stem. As the mule cart passed laden with our luggage,
we seized the Graflex camera and secured the accompanying photograph.
In spite of their protective colors and mode of resting, the wings of
almost all had been nipped by birds, and we saw one fall a victim to a
Flycatcher. The characteristic birds of this trail were Swallow-tailed
Kites[58] and Yellow-bellied Trogons,[76] the former soaring overhead
every few minutes and the latter dashing from cluster to cluster of
berries.
In the middle of the afternoon our walk brought us to Upper Camaria,
where we were again on the bank of the Cuyuni. Here, tied to a gigantic
Mora tree, a second launch awaited us, and from here to our second
night’s stopping place at Matope we stopped only once, at Tiger Island,
to take a few “pork-knockers” on board. Although there were only
three small, hut-like houses here, there was the invariable colony of
Yellow-backed Cassiques.[151]
The tide was blocked by the succession of falls and rapids, and so
at Upper Camaria the whole character of the vegetation was changed.
Mangroves had vanished and in their place were mucka-mucka and other
aquatic growths, backed by the solid walls of trees and vines.
[Illustration: FIG. 104. A BUTTERFLY MIMICKING AN ORCHID.]
Snakebirds[48] were perched in solitary state at frequent intervals
along the banks,—silent, sinister looking, craning their necks out at
us and either dropping quietly into the water and sinking from view or
flapping heavily upward. Ordinarily their flight is very pelican-like;
six or eight flaps, then a short scale, but when they once reach a high
altitude, they soar most gracefully with set wings, first in a wide,
slow circle, then with a sudden straight rush, then a circle and so on,
all apparently without a single wing beat. When thus high in air they
have a most peculiar arrow-shaped appearance; thin sharp beak, slender
neck and body, and broad, fan-shaped tail.
[Illustration: FIG. 105. FRESH-WATER FLYING FISH.]
While the launch was puffing slowly along we saw one of the most
unexpected sights of the trip—a fresh-water flying fish _Carnegiella
strigatus_. It did not leave the surface entirely but skimmed steadily
along in a straight line with the tip of the deep keel of the abdomen
just cutting the surface. It was small, not more than two inches long,
and of the greatest interest to us at that time, as we did not then know
that such a thing as a fresh-water flying fish existed. To see a silvery
little form break from the mirror-like surface of the river and go
skimming off through the air left us amazed.
These fish were silvery in color, marked with irregular black markings,
with long, wing like pectoral fins and a remarkably deep keel, like the
keel of a racing yacht.
As we went on, the walls of foliage became higher and more dense,
stretching up, far up above our heads, until the topmost branches were
from one hundred to one hundred and twenty-five feet above the water.
Majestic vistas opened out ahead of us, and now and then great solid
banks of flowers hung like huge tapestries upon the foliage walls. One
white flower with a plume-like tuft of long slender stamens, filled whole
bends of the river with its sweet perfume and formed aërial banks of
bloom fifty feet square. We saw here for the first time the Green River
Ibises[26] looking dull black in the sunlight. They were of the same size
as Scarlet Ibises but with a shorter tail, and flapped more slowly in
flight.
[Illustration: FIG. 106. SALT-WATER FLYING FISH.]
Just before dusk we reached the house of the government agent of this
district, Mr. Nicholson, and were made welcome at his little home in
the heart of the wilderness. The house is on a steep bluff of red clay,
changing to yellow near the water and commanding a fine view up and down
the river. Below, the river is smooth and shining, while a quarter of
a mile above the house a mass of tumbling white water blocks further
progress and marks the second portage.
In the yard near the house one passes through a cluster of young fruit
trees and here two small colonies of Yellow backed Cassiques[151] had
located, clustering their pendent nests almost within arm’s reach about
two big nests of stinging ants. At dusk several hundred Smooth-billed
Anis[80] dropped into a clump of bamboo and with much racket and
squabbling settled for the night.
[Illustration: FIG. 107. CUYUNI RIVER.]
This region is wholly undisturbed, the few “pork-knockers” and Indians
who pass keeping entirely to the river. Mr. Nicholson told us that
Capybaras (_Hydrochoerus capybara_) came every night and raided the
vegetable garden, and we had good evidence of this. Pushing through
the bush a short distance downstream at dusk, we saw a small herd of
these creatures appear and distribute themselves over the banks. Some
waded along the shallows, or swam out and dived, to come up with a
mouthful of algæ. Others climbed the clay slope and disappeared into the
jungle. They seemed like reincarnations of some of the great unwieldy
prehistoric beasts—restorations of those bones by which alone we know of
their existence in past ages. It was too dark to photograph these giant
rodents, but by the kindness of Dr. Bingham we are able to show several
splendid photographs of Capybaras, taken in their haunts.
[Illustration: FIG. 108. A HERD OF EIGHT CAPYBARAS, SIX ADULT AND TWO
YOUNG. Notice the Snout of a Crocodile in the Water on the Left. (Photo
by Bingham.)]
The Indian hunter at Matope finds abundance of game within a mile of the
house; two kinds of deer, tapir, peccary, and of course Curassows and
Guans. Trumpeters[25] are often heard from the house but are considered
too tough for food.
We talked, chiefly by signs, with the Arowak Indian hunter who had just
come in with a Bush-hog or Peccary (_Dicotyles tajacu_). As soon as
the animal is killed, the gland on the lower back is cut out, a piece
of skin being removed about four by eight inches. If this is not done
immediately, the flesh will become musky and unfit to eat. The hunter was
familiar with the rare White-lipped Peccary (_Dicotyles labiatus_), which
he described as larger than the common kind and going in small families
of two to five individuals. This was a dangerous animal, and more than
once he had been treed by them, whereas the Common Peccary was timid and
harmless except when wounded or cornered.
Mr. Nicholson had recently seen a full-grown Great Anteater
(_Myrmecophaga jubata_) swimming the river, and curiously enough we later
witnessed a similar performance where the banks were about a third of
a mile apart. The creature was making fair headway, although drifting
rapidly, and was completely immersed save for the elongated snout and
head, and the upper part of the bushy tail, which waggled frantically
with the efforts the anteater was making.
Mr. Nicholson promised to obtain some living Trumpeters for us and
later kept his word by sending one to New York a few months after we
left. There are gold diggings near here which were worked by the Dutch
in 1625. In the earlier days of the English occupancy, gold smuggling
was an every-day occurrence at Bartica, and Mr. Nicholson had to take
extraordinary precautions to guard against it. He would scrape a line
under the keel of a boat from stem to stern, by this means often
discovering hidden bags of gold. Many a coopful of innocent looking
fowls, brought down by the “pork-knockers,” were slain by the government
inspectors and found to have their crops and gizzards filled with the
precious yellow grain. Cartridges were a favorite means of smuggling,
the powder being removed and replaced with gold. There is no longer any
attempt at smuggling now as it does not pay.
[Illustration: FIG. 109. GREAT ANTEATER. (Photo by Sanborn.)]
Vampires (_Desmodus rufus_) are so abundant at Matope that every evening
one of the servants collects the chair cushions on the veranda and packs
them under an upturned chair. Otherwise, the dogs, bitten while sleeping
on these cushions, would ruin them with their blood. We swung our
hammocks on the veranda and kept one light burning, and although the bats
squeaked shrilly throughout the night, none of us were bitten.
Early next morning we packed up and set out, and in a few minutes a
launch landed us at the foot of the falls. This portage was only about
a hundred yards in length, bringing us to Perseverance Landing. Here
were several tent-boats, most of them filled with “pork-knockers.” We
stored our luggage in the one reserved for us and climbed into a tent
ballyhoo with ten paddlers in addition to the bowman and steersman—all
big, powerful, piratical looking blacks, except the steersman, who was
an Indian. Now came the most exciting part of our trip, passing up the
series of rapids which filled the whole bed of the river. It took us
until noon to pass them. A smooth expanse of water would indicate depth
sufficient to float a steamer. Then a bar of granite would appear, rising
on shore into huge boulders and forming a series of foaming, tumbling
waves across the river. In such a place there were numerous small islands
and the width increased greatly, while the water everywhere was shallow,
with channels ramifying here and there.
As we approached one of these rapids the bowman stood up and the men
braced themselves for the tremendous exertion. Starting with a slow,
steady stroke, this became quicker and quicker as the white water was
reached, then the bowman, using his long paddle lever-like against the
thwart, held the ballyhoo steady, while the men drove her through the
swirling water. The current became stronger and stronger, the canoe
seemed to slow down, be stationary, even to slide back a foot or two.
Then the great black backs, glistening with perspiration, would twist and
bend in a final effort and the boat would shoot forward into the quiet
eddy at the foot of the rapid, with the water swirling past on each side.
[Illustration: FIG. 110. A TACUBA ON THE CUYUNI.]
[Illustration: FIG. 111. RAPIDS ON THE CUYUNI.]
[Illustration: FIG. 112. RUSHING THE BOAT INTO THE RAPIDS.]
[Illustration: FIG. 113. WARPING THE BOAT THROUGH THE LOWER WHIRLPOOLS.]
Now, at a word from the steersman, the blacks tumbled overboard, hastily
getting out heavy rope cables, which one or two of the most powerful took
in their teeth or tied around their waists and carried to some projecting
rock as far ahead as possible. After they had fought their way up to the
rock they tied the rope securely and now all hands took hold, some of
the rope, others of the boat, and pushed and pulled her up through the
boiling torrent.
In one or two cases it was possible to zigzag up through the less
formidable shallows. After a particularly difficult piece of paddling
we would rest in some backwater for a few minutes and have time to look
about us. Every snag held its complement of vampires which took to wing
only when we were very close. Solitary Sandpipers[21] and Parauques[70]
were abundant, the latter apparently nesting on the numerous little
sand-bars, and swooping near the boat or swinging up to a bare branch
where they perched lengthwise and watched us with half-shut eyes.
The rocky islets were covered with the low Water Guava (_Psidium
fluviatile_), and the rocks which are usually covered with shallow
water or those within reach of the falls were studded with thousands of
little starry flowers. In other places masses of delicate pink blossoms
raised their heads above the shining mat of green submerged leaves which
fairly carpeted the pools. The beds of pink, green and white amid the
pools reminded us strongly of the many-colored sponges, hydroids and
anemones in a tidal pool of the Bay of Fundy or a reef off a Florida Key.
These aquatic flowers, far out from shore, gave forth a sweet perfume
attracting flies, bees and even butterflies, which flitted through the
mist, just clearing the foaming water.
[Illustration: FIG. 114. A REST MIDWAY UP THE RAPIDS.]
Now and then small reddish-brown crocodiles were seen sunning themselves
on the sand-bars. One, not more than three feet in length, paid no
attention to the revolver shots which threw up the water close to him.
The little flying fish became more numerous as we went on, skimming here
and there in the smooth pools. Twice we saw one dash at an insect, once a
large bee and the second time a butterfly, but they were less successful
in their insect hunting than the Swallows—both the Banded[118] and the
Variegated[119]—which swooped across our bow. Whenever we went close to
a bank we saw multitudes of a new flower, with its graceful rebarbed
stamens, looking like the falling lines of sparks from a rocket.
We lunched to-day on a splendid outcropping of rock on the left bank,
after chasing into the cracks some big and remarkably colored tarantulas,
with light red bodies and dark legs.
One of the most delightful surprises on this trip was the boat songs of
the blacks. How we wished afterwards that we had written down the words
and music at the time. One melody remains clear in our memory:
[Music]
[Illustration: FIG. 115. THE FINAL STRUGGLE UP TO SMOOTH WATER.]
The words of the songs were delightful. One never-ending refrain imparted
the original and thrilling information that
“A long time ago is a veree long time.”
Another song was the Stevedore’s Shantée. Then all would break out in a
wild harmony.
“Dat citee hotel is de place wha I dwell,
Fare thee well—fare thee well—my citee hotel,
My citee hotel—my citee hotel.”
The one of which we never tired was all about “Salina—mya dear,” and we
made the men sing it over and over until they were breathless.
Like all negroes they were full of spirits and childish humor. Their
paddling was splendid but terribly wasteful of strength, as at the end
of each stroke they gave a strong upward jerk, sending a shower of drops
into the air. Our luggage ballyhoo was sometimes abreast of us across the
river and when the sunlight was reflected from the eight circles of water
thrown into the air at each stroke, the sight was a beautiful one.
When we returned several weeks later, the shooting of these rapids
was as exciting as had been the ascent. There was no slow difficult
paddling or dragging up of the ballyhoo, but a swift shooting downward,
giving fleeting views of tall walls of verdure, innumerable islets,
great smooth-faced rocks around which our canoe slid, perilously close,
her keel sometimes scraping the algæ on the bottom. We shot here and
there from side to side of the river, back and forth, guided by the
stolid-faced Indian in the bow. Now and then we would turn completely
around in order to keep to a deep channel which bent on itself at an
acute angle. Then a moment’s breathing in slack water before the men gave
way again, either to hold back with all their might or to put every ounce
of strength into their work to keep the boat steady in her course, as we
ran parallel to a double line of seething, trembling waves, to enter
which would have been instant destruction.
We would pass by a half dozen smooth-looking false channels, to enter the
single safe one, perhaps far across under the lee of the opposite shore.
A pilot not acquainted with every foot of the way would have overturned
us instantly. The Indian would head our bow into the roughest part of the
water apparently in sheer foolhardiness, but always the waves broke under
us and tossed us like a chip over the jagged rocks. A cross current in
the maelstrom would tear our bow out of its course, and at a cry from the
steersman, all ten backs would bend as one and fairly lift the boat back
into her course. As before, Macaws shrieked overhead, Cocoi Herons[31]
stood watching us like statues and the little living fish rose from our
bow and ploughed their furrows to right and left. But all passed as a
swiftly-moving kaleidoscope, as instantaneous side-lights upon the great
white tumbling mass of water which ever boiled and surged about us.
At noon of the day of our ascent we entered the Big Aremu River, a side
tributary of the Cuyuni not more than a hundred feet wide, and an hour
later we grounded at Aremu Landing. Here we said good-by to Sproston’s
launch and paddlers, and from here on were transported by Mr. Wilshire’s
own men and boats. We slung our hammocks that night in an open-work,
thatched and wattled house, the company’s storehouse, after a delicious
swim in the cool water.
No insects came about the vampire-discouraging lantern at night and
no evening choruses of birds were heard except a family of Red-billed
Toucans.[81] The iridescent rough-backed green beetles, known to jewelry
makers as Brazilian Beetles (_Mesomphalia discors_), were abundant on a
vine near the house.
As on our former expedition on the rivers of the northwest we found that
as the streams became smaller, their interest increased. The Cuyuni is
awe-inspiring and grand beyond words, but the banks of the Aremu, closing
in little by little as we ascended, brought us into more intimate contact
with the creatures of jungle and forest.
We started up the stream in an open ballyhoo of smaller size, at first
with paddles, but changing to poles when the water became shallower.
Snags, or tacubas as is the more euphonious native name, became abundant
and sometimes stretched far out over our heads. Flying fish skimmed in
all directions and vampires (_Desmodus rufus_) in scores flew from the
dead branches projecting from the water. They choose a small-sized one,
say two inches in diameter, and alight, one below the other, with heads
raised, watching us. Like little animated sun-dials they revolve on their
perches as the sun passes over, keeping the wood between them and the
bright light. Many of the snags had bits of dead leaves and other débris
clinging to them, brought down and lodged by the last freshet, and it
was not until we almost put our hand on them and the bats flew, that
we could tell whether we were looking at a cluster of vampires or dead
leaves. There were hundreds throughout the course of the river, so it is
a wide-spread diurnal roosting habit of these fierce little creatures.
The blacks in this part of the country call the vampires “Dr. Blairs,”
after a certain colonial doctor of the olden times whose favorite method
of treatment was blood-letting.
Swallows in the early morning filled the air above the river with a
cloud of rapidly moving forms. Orchids in full bloom were abundant,
long shoots of Golden Showers, the sweet _Epidendrum odoratum_ and
many others unknown to us, all drenched with dew and filling the river
canyon with fragrance. Three species of Kingfishers[67][68][69] and big
Yellow-bellied Trogons[76] appeared now and then. The trees were taller
than any we had yet seen, many of the moras and cumacas being much over a
hundred feet from base to top.
[Illustration: FIG. 116. SHOOTING THE RAPIDS AT FULL SPEED.]
At noon we stopped for breakfast in a primeval forest with rather thin
underbrush. Many small scarab beetles (_Canthon semiopacus_) were resting
in the hollows of leaves with their branched antennæ raised, waiting
apparently for some hint of an odor which should summon them to their
mission of life—the depositing of their eggs in decaying flesh. Spinning
through the aisles made by the giant columns of tree-trunks, were curious
translucent pin-wheels, and not until we captured one in the butterfly
net did we realize we were looking at the same attenuated forest
dragon-flies (_Mecistogaster_ sp.) which had deceived us so completely
five years ago in Mexico.[G] The movement of the long, narrow wings,
with the spot of white at the tips was, to the eye, a circular revolving
whirl, with the needle-sized body trailing behind. The white spots
revolved rapidly, while the rest of the wings became a mere gray haze.
These weird creatures, apparently so ethereal and fragile, were hunting
for spiders, and their method was regular and methodical. From under
leaves or from the heart of widespread webs, good-sized spiders were
snatched. A momentary juggling with the strong legs, a single nip and
the spider minus its abdomen dropped to the mould, while the dragon-fly
alighted and sucked the juices of its victim. If we drew near one of
these spiders on its web, it instantly darted away, sliding down a silken
cable to the ground or dashing into some crevice, but the approach of the
hovering dragon-fly, although rather deliberate, was unheeded, the spider
remaining quiet until snatched from its place.
On a tiny jungle creek we alarmed several large, blunt-nosed brown
lizards, with low dorsal crests, which ran up into the branches to escape
us. In this respect they differed from the big iguanas which always
dropped with a resounding splash into the water at our approach.
Near some wild plum trees whose fruit was ripe, we found tracks of deer,
agoutis and some of the smaller cats. The fruit was yellow and oblong in
shape with a large stone, and tasted the way a tonca bean smells—bitter
and yet sweet—a strange concentrated essence of the tropics which excited
one, in that it differed so completely from the taste of any other fruit.
Morphos became more abundant from this point on. Some were wholly
iridescent blue above—a blinding, flashing mirror of azure; others were
crossed by a broad band of black, while in a third species the blue
was reduced to a narrow bar down the centre of the wing. Great yellow
swallow-tailed butterflies and exquisite smaller ones flew about us. The
crocodiles of the Aremu were all small, none over three feet, and were
all black in color.
[Illustration: FIG. 117. A WILDERNESS PASSION FLOWER—SIMITÚ.]
As we went on we were impressed with the amount of work which had been
necessary to open up this river for the passage of ballyhoos laden with
mine machinery. Six months ago it had been impassable, except for small
Indian canoes, and these had often to be dragged ashore and around
obstructions. Now the little channel had been opened, and although for
the most part completely overhung with interlacing vines and branches,
yet our ballyhoo wound in and out around the tacubas with but little
hindrance. The cost of opening it had been more than $15,000. Huge
tree-trunks had to be sawn through, but even then, the wood of many
species having greater specific gravity than water, the trunks would sink
to the bottom like stones, offering a greater obstruction than before.
Dynamite was then used to clear them from the bed of the stream.
In the early afternoon, a beautiful dull-red passion flower on a climbing
vine became common, and we found that its fruit was edible and called by
the natives Simitú. Although apparently so much at home here, this plant,
known as the Water Lemon (_Passiflora laurifolia_), is really an escape
from cultivation.
The river twisted and turned in every direction and the banks were four
to eight feet in height with sloping bars of sand on the inside bends.
Palms were rather scarce, their place, in appearance at least, being
taken by the tall, slender Congo pump trees with deeply serrated rosettes
of leaves. Tree-ferns appeared in ever increasing numbers and stretched
their graceful fronds from the banks far out over our heads.
During midday, silence filled these river glades, both birds and insects
resting quietly in the heat, and the only sound was the regular scraping
of the poles against the sides of the ballyhoo. The heat was not
oppressive except in the glaring sunshine on the water, but such exposure
was rare in these deeply forested recesses. We had had no rain thus
far and the temperature of the mornings and evenings was delightfully
cool. At night we could scarcely keep warm rolled in a hammock in a
thick blanket. Unpleasant insects were entirely absent, and yet we were
travelling in the heart of a tropical wilderness, which most of us
have pictured as a sizzling, steaming hot-house, teeming with venomous
reptiles and stinging bugs of all descriptions.
[Illustration: FIG. 118. OUR CAMP ON THE AREMU RIVER.]
About three o’clock, the Goldbirds[115] began calling and some other
species with a single loud whistle. A Cormorant rose with heavy
wing-beats ahead of us, and when we flushed it the second time we shot
it. It was the little Guiana Cormorant[47] only twenty-eight inches in
length, with eyes of dull green. A deer broke away from the bank at the
sound of the shot and dashed off.
That night we made camp in the jungle. A skeleton shelter roof of poles
was thrown up, over which was stretched a tarpaulin, coming to within six
or seven feet of the ground all around. Then a double row of stout stakes
was driven into the leaf mould along each side and the hammocks slung
from them. They were springy, and one swung not only sideways but with a
slight end for end motion that made every movement easy.
While we were making camp we were hailed by a passing ballyhoo, the
occupant of which proved to be Mr. Fowler, the head of the Colony
Department of Lands and Mines, who had been at the mine on a tour
of inspection and was now on his way back to Georgetown. Hospitable
Mrs. Wilshire at once invited him to come over from his camping place
farther downstream and dine with us. A dinner party in the “bush!” We
all shared the feeling of festivity. The men hastily constructed a
table of the trunks of young saplings, while the rest of the party hung
lighted lanterns from the overhanging branches. Directly in front of
the camp was a tall, straight Copa tree draped with long hanging bush
ropes dangling from the lowest branches, seventy or eighty feet up the
trunk. The base sent out thin, far-reaching buttresses, the intervals
between which formed natural seats and closets for our guns and bags. Mr.
Fowler’s Indian hunter brought in several Curassows which we added to
the Cormorant for dinner. Mr. Fowler had seen a Bush-master (_Lachesis
mutus_) a few hundred yards upstream, the first poisonous snake of which
we had heard on this trip. We had a merry dinner, Mr. Fowler telling us
many an interesting story of his early days in the colony.
[Illustration: FIG. 119. POLING UNDER TACUBAS ON THE LITTLE AREMU.]
The jungle around our camp was alive with sound all night—frogs chiefly;
the wing-beating fellows, the heavily loaded freight engines, the
bleating calves and a new kind which raised its loud and continuous voice
in choking roars. One’s imagination pictured death struggles between
man-like monkeys and other creatures, the qualities of human and bestial
voices were so blended in this utterance. Vampires flew about back and
forth under our shelter but none bit us. So strange and wonderful was
this night in the “bush” that for many hours sleep was impossible.
Early next morning a light rain fell for an hour and through it we
photographed our night’s camp. As the sun shone dimly through the mist
a chorus arose—Woodhewers, Parrots, Macaws and in the distance the ever
thrilling moan of the red “baboons.”
The last black pushed off with his pole about eight o’clock and we
settled ourselves for our last day of river travel. The stream became
narrower and more diversified, in places being not more than twenty-five
feet from bank to bank, then spreading out to twice that width with
strange keel-like sharp rocks projecting from its surface. We elbowed
our way through a perfect maze of dovetailed tacubas and slanting
tree-trunks, which we went around or rubbed along or scraped over.
Sometimes we all had to crouch flat down to the level of the gunwale to
pass under a low trunk, or again even to climb out on to the log and
down into the ballyhoo on the other side. Now and then a pole would
be wrenched from a negro’s hand as the current or impetus of the boat
twisted it to one side, or the man himself would be flicked overboard
amid roars of laughter from his mates, who, when he climbed dripping on
board again, would inquire the cause for the sudden desertion of his
post.
[Illustration: FIG. 120. TREE-FERNS ON THE LITTLE AREMU.]
These tacubas, which are really fallen trees, are the most apparent
danger in the jungle, although the chances of accident from them are very
slight. Along the bank were many slanting trees, bound sooner or later
to give way. On our return journey down the Aremu we passed, or rather
scraped under, a huge trunk which completely spanned the creek. It must
have fallen about two days before and we had to push through a perfect
tangle of orchids and lianas.
Tree-ferns twelve feet high draped the banks; spiders of weird shapes
dropped upon us, buoyed up by their long silken cables; brush-tipped
aërial roots dangling at the ends of plummet lines fifty feet long were
drawn from stem to stern of the boat and across the pages of our journals
as we wrote.
Half an hour after starting we discovered a Three-toed Sloth
(_Choloepus_) high up in a tree almost over the water. Mr. Howell shot
the creature and we found it to be of large size, with long reddish-brown
hair. The face, expressionless as it always is in these animals, had
small eyes of a warm hazel color. Later we had it cooked and found it
quite palatable.
In many of these tropical growths the new or first leaf-shoots are pale
or brilliant red, this holding good in the case of the giant moras,
several trees with locust-like foliage, and even the flat, leaf-vines,
_Monstera_ or shingle plants, crawling up the trunks. One small tree
with entire leaves and covered with sweet-scented tassel-shaped flowers,
had at least half its foliage of a pale yellow-green. This is the spring
of this region in so far as such a region of never ending warmth and
moisture may be said to have a spring. On every hand flowers were in
abundance. All were unknown to us, but most were of large size and varied
odor and color. All the tales of the rarity of flowers in the tropics had
not fitted in with our experiences.
[Illustration: FIG. 121. A SLOTH IN ACTION.]
In the course of three bends of the river, during some fifteen minutes’
observation, we observed the following in masses of sufficient size to
catch the eye far off and add a decided color tone to the spot where they
grew: purple pea-blooms in wisteria-like bunches; falling-star white
flowers; pink two-petalled ground flowers in dense clumps; spider lilies,
the large kind; red passion flowers; white tubular blooms; five-parted
purple star-shaped flowers; wild cotton, in enormous masses of bloom,
resembling clematis and as fragrant; long thin racemes of very fragrant,
dull greenish white flowers; brush-like purple blooms, white at the base,
growing sessile on the trunks, with an edible fruit, which the blacks
call “Waika.”
This list is exclusive of all the many inconspicuous flowers and all
orchids, which were seldom out of sight. Its value lies only in giving
the faintest of hints of the wonderful beauty of these jungle water
trails.
[Illustration: FIG. 122. A SLOTH ASLEEP.]
On these upper reaches of the stream the two water birds most in evidence
were Tiger Bitterns[40] and Great Rufous Kingfishers.[67] One could
write pages trying to describe a single vista of this beautiful region
and yet give only a hint of its charm. In one place a mighty loop of a
lofty bush rope or monkey ladder with ornate woody frills decorating the
edges, hangs swaying high in air across the stream. Several other giant
vines have caught hold and have wormed their way in serpentine folds
along the first great swing. In the spaces between these huge living
cables, seeds and parasitic plants have taken root and grown, filling up
the network with their aërial bulbs and in turn furnishing rootholds for
an innumerable variety of flowers, ferns, orchids, mosses and lichens.
The mosses are long and fan-shaped like some species of coral, and
the lichens are red, pink, gray and white. The whole forms, high over
our heads, an enormous hanging garden which no human ingenuity could
duplicate.
Two hours after starting we reached the place called Two Mouths and
turned into the Little Aremu. In no place is this stream more than
twenty-five feet wide, with low, sloping sandy or clay banks facing steep
ones, first on the right, then on the left side, according to the bend of
the stream and the force of the current. As we went along a splendid male
Crested Curassow[4] flew up and was shot, to be added to our menu. Before
we came in sight it was clucking softly.
A splash around a bend, and sharp claw and toe marks showed where a
capybara (_Hydrochoerus capybara_) had just entered the water, and from
here on we found such tracks common on every sandy bank.
We were amused at our steersman’s occasional orders to the crew. In
places where the current was swift and poling was very difficult he would
shout in a most woful and despairing voice “O Lord!”, giving us quite a
start. We eventually found that he was intending this ejaculation for
“Pole-hard!”
[Illustration: FIG. 123. WHERE ONLY OTTERS AND FISH CAN PASS.]
Black-shelled mollusks were common on submerged logs, and on the banks
above the water line were scores of curious spiders and insects, while
dragon-flies of a half dozen or more species darted swiftly about.
Throughout the morning we were never out of hearing of the hammering of
Woodpeckers, or the cooing of Doves or the laughing, descending scales of
Woodhewers. The Chinese music of the cicadas came to our ears, a sound
which recalled vividly the forests of Venezuela.
The water was now at a medium level, but after heavy rains when it is
high, all the great tacubas six feet above our heads are submerged and
much of the land along the river banks becomes a swamp.
Farther upstream when the water became very shallow and the stream
narrowed to twelve or fifteen feet, some of us left the ballyhoo in order
to make the work of the blacks easier, and took to the trail. After a
fifteen minutes’ walk we saw the glimmer of sunshine through the trees
and knew that we had reached the gold mine of the Little Aremu.