THE DESCENT OF THE RIO GY-PARANÁ
While we were on the Paraguay River it was decided that upon reaching
the Rio da Duvida the expedition should be divided into two sections,
as a large party always decreases the chances of success in an
unexplored region. Colonel Roosevelt suggested that Cherrie and I draw
lots, or to settle the matter in any way we chose as to which one
should accompany him. After due consideration it seemed to me that, as
Cherrie was the older and more experienced man, he was justly entitled
to accompany the colonel on the journey down the new river; so I
volunteered to join the party which planned to descend the Gy-Paraná.
The eventful day arrived at last, when the expedition must separate;
we had looked forward in eager anticipation to the end of the long
ride across the Brazilian _chapadão_ and the beginning of river work,
but now that the goal had been attained without serious mishap,
thirty-seven days after leaving the Upper Paraguay, the division of the
expedition seemed to have come all too soon.
To better organize the two different forces, our party had halted at
a point called Sete de Setembro, ten kilometres this side of the Rio
da Duvida, while the other division had pushed on to the point of
embarkation. We reached their camp early February 27, 1914, just as
the tents were being taken down and the canoes loaded, preparatory
to the plunge into the unknown. A short time later everything was in
readiness, and farewells were exchanged with Colonel Roosevelt and with
the Brazilian officers. Then, with a parting “Good luck!” their dugouts
swung into the current and were whisked away. For several minutes we
stood upon the fragile structure that bridged the unexplored river and
stared at the dark forest that shut our erstwhile leader and his
Brazilian companions from view; and then, filled with misgivings as to
whether or not we should ever see them again, we turned our thoughts to
the task before us.
[Illustration: Sketch map of the south-central part of the Amazon
drainage system.
Scale, °1:12,000,000.
The party of which the writer was a member descended the Rio
Commemoração and the Gy-Paraná to the Madeira. From here Manaos
on the Amazon was reached by the regular steamer route down the
Madeira.
The drainage between the Upper Paraguay and the Madeira is based
on the surveys of the Brazilian Telegraph Commission, so far as
available. Note the recently explored course of the Rio Ananás
(_The Geographical Review_, January, 1916, p. 50, and February, pp.
143–144), and the completed telegraph-line from Cuyabá to Santo
Antonio (_Bulletin American Geographical Society_, September, 1915,
p. 693). The latter is taken from a map in the Rio de Janeiro
newspaper _A Noite_ for October 25, 1915.
]
Our party consisted of Captain Amilcar de Magalhães, a remarkably
skilful and wholly tireless leader, and Lieutenant Joaquim de Melho,
of the Brazilian Army, Doctor Euzebio Paulo de Oliveira, a geologist,
and Señor Henrique Heinisch, a taxidermist, all of the Brazilian
Telegraph Commission, besides myself; then there were some thirty-odd
_camaradas_, or native assistants. We had a very large pack-train of
mules and oxen, as that wing of the expedition, in charge of Captain
Amilcar, which had hitherto travelled ahead of the main party, was to
proceed with us from this point. Our plan was to continue overland
to the headwaters of the Gy-Paraná and to descend that stream to the
Madeira, taking observations as we went, for, in common with many of
the rivers of the South American continent, the course of this stream
has not been accurately mapped.[1] Zoologically speaking, we were in a
most interesting and almost unknown country, and no opportunity could
be lost to add to our already large and constantly growing collection
of both mammals and birds.
[1] The Gy-Paraná had been descended by two parties which
Colonel Rondon detached for this purpose from his main
expedition of 1909. The first, under the zoologist Alipio
de Mirando Ribeiro, went down the Pimentá Bueno and the
Gy-Paraná to the Madeira; the second, under Lieutenant
Antonio Pyrineus de Souza, descended the Jarú and the
Gy-Paraná (see map). It was the reconnoissance survey made
by the first party that established the fact that the
Gy-Paraná, instead of flowing northwest throughout its
course, as until then supposed, turns abruptly north in
11½° south latitude, and flows in this direction for nearly
three degrees, until, at another abrupt bend in 9° south,
it turns west and empties into the Madeira.
We left the Duvida (now Rio Theodoro) shortly before noon; but it had
rained nearly the entire day and the trail was indescribably bad;
besides, the animals had completed their thirty-eighth day of travel
without proper food or rest. That night we camped beside the trail on
a site cleared for the purpose by the _camaradas_; we had taken
only the canvas flies, as it had been found necessary to abandon the
wall-tents some little distance back on account of their great weight.
There was no feed for the animals, but the men had cut a quantity of
palm-leaves growing abundantly in the forest, which the oxen refused to
eat, however.
[Illustration: Camp on the Rio da Duvida.
From this point the exploration of the river was undertaken by Col.
Roosevelt.]
The trail had now left the open _chapadão_ and wound between high walls
of dark forest; instead of the monotonous level of the plain, the
country was broken and hilly, with numerous small streams trickling
through the dividing ravines, and it rained almost continuously; if we
had succeeded in evading the rainy season heretofore, it descended on
us now with doubled vigor.
A very wide swath had been cut through the forest for the
telegraph-line to protect the wires from falling trunks and branches;
so recent had been the work that the shrivelled leaves still clung to
the prostrate trees, and the thick second growth, which springs up
immediately where the sunlight is permitted to reach the ground, was
just sprouting. The ground was covered with fruits of many kinds, most
of them insipid or of acrid flavor, but the herds of peccaries seemed
to relish them; and the flocks of parrots and macaws quarrelled noisily
overhead in their struggles to reach some particularly appetizing
morsel. One of the things that especially attracted our attention was
the great number of hard, cannon-ball-like shells that littered the
trail; they were the empty casques of the _castanha_, or Brazil nut,
which grew abundantly throughout the forest. The Indians had opened
most of them, in what manner I am unable to say, as they are so hard
the blows of a hammer fail to make any impression, and extracted the
dozen or more triangular nuts from each. The trees upon which they grow
are remarkable for their height and great thickness; not infrequently
we saw one a hundred and fifty feet high and four feet in diameter
without a single branch lower than sixty or seventy feet. Graves
were numerous by the wayside; I counted fifteen, near one another,
each newly made mound being marked by a rude cross without name or
inscription; they indicated the burial sites of _camaradas_, victims to
the dread beri-beri and malaria.
During our second night’s camp we heard the gruff, cough-like roar
of a jaguar not far away, and next morning the men reported that the
creature had killed one of the oxen. I went to see the slain animal
and found that it was badly bitten about the neck and that one of the
thighs had been partly eaten; in its enfeebled state the ox had been
an easy kill for the big spotted cat. We made no attempt to follow the
jaguar, but shouldered our guns and started on the home-stretch of
the long journey. Again it rained heavily, though intermittently, and
frequently the mud was knee-deep: but the knowledge that the river and
rest lay but thirteen kilometres away acted as a stimulus to the men,
and even the weary animals responded to the ceaseless urging of their
drivers and panted along as if they, too, understood that the end of
their toil was at hand.
At about four o’clock that afternoon our destination was reached.
From the top of a rather high hill we had an unobstructed view down
the wide, newly cleared lane through the forest; a small cluster
of mud-walled, palm-thatched huts nestled in the depression at the
foot of the hill, with a patch of corn and rice growing to one side;
a hundred yards beyond sparkled the river, and on all sides of the
little clearing rose the Amazonian forest. The little building housing
the telegraphic equipment was placed at our disposal, and tents were
erected for the _camaradas_, who straggled in with the footsore
pack-train until a late hour. The animals were given their liberty
and bountiful feeds of corn and fodder, so that within a week many of
them were in condition to start on the back trail, a comparatively
easy trip, as there were no heavy loads to carry. Many of the natives
were also sent back, while others were retained in the service of the
expedition; one detachment was sent to the camp of the laborers who
were working on the telegraph-line, which extended two kilometres
beyond. This was the end of the survey, Barão de Melgaço being the
name of the last station, and a force of about fifty men were engaged
cutting an opening for the continuation of the line. At the rate
they were working it was estimated that the line to Manaos would be
completed in about two years.
We had expected to find a craft of some kind awaiting us so that we
might immediately pursue our journey down the river, but in this we
were disappointed, although, as it later developed, a boat was then
on its way to us, sent by order of Colonel Rondon. There were only
two small dugouts available, which were entirely inadequate for our
purpose, so the men were put to work cutting down a tree of large size
and hollowing out a canoe which would hold the party and the necessary
luggage. This work we estimated would take some weeks, so in the
meantime we busied ourselves exploring the country in the vicinity of
Barão de Melgaço.
A short reconnoissance through the forest revealed a veritable
zoological wonderland. I was consequently very glad that we were
delayed, as this gave me an opportunity to study the fauna of a
zoologically unknown region, and to work on some of the problems
of nature with which we are constantly confronted, but of which so
little is known. One of the facts that no field-naturalist can fail
to have thrust upon his notice is the exact precision and nicety with
which the balance in nature is preserved. Take the familiar example
of the oyster. In its early stages of development it is subject to
the raids of such a host of enemies and adverse conditions that out
of a million eggs only a few bivalves reach maturity; to offset this
wholesale destruction nature has provided that a single oyster may
lay several millions of eggs, and thus the race is preserved. Birds,
to a less extent, are subject to this same thoughtful provision;
therefore we find that the species which are subject to many
dangers during the nesting-period or which undertake long, perilous
seasonal migrations, lay comparatively large sets of eggs; this is
best evidenced by ducks and quail. Species which are subject to
the natural dangers of migration only and are protected during the
nesting-season, comparatively speaking, rear small broods of young;
warblers, thrushes, and a number of our own native birds would come in
this category; to further offset the loss, some of these latter may
even rear two broods in a season. When we reach the tropics a marked
change is noticeable; the extremes in climatic conditions are usually
represented by the wet and dry seasons; there are few enemies and food
is abundant, consequently the loss of life is comparatively small.
If reproduction proceeded there at the same rate as in the northern
lands, it must be obvious that the country would soon be overstocked;
but again it has been decreed that the equity should be preserved, and
the great majority of tropical birds nest but once a year, and then
the full complement of eggs is but two. Of course there are a number
of exceptions on each side, and on such matters it is difficult to
generalize, but in the majority of cases this will be found to be true.
On one of my walks in the forest I came upon a troop of peculiar little
monkeys of the saki family (_cacajão_) feeding in the top of a tall
wild fig-tree. They differed from all other known members of the genus
by being entirely black, with snow-white noses. While feeding they
were quiet, and the only thing that betrayed their presence was the
constant pattering of small particles of fruit upon the dry leaves
carpeting the ground. Presently they took fright, and away they went in
a series of leaps and bounds, so that the tree-tops were agitated as
by a violent gust of wind; they uttered queer little whining squeaks
as they ran and soon disappeared from view. A small one of the same
species which I owned was a most amusing little pet and never failed
to gain a place in the affections of any one who beheld it--even the
most calloused _camarada_; it was of a most playful and friendly
disposition and, if petted, made the most ridiculous faces and bubbled
with laughter. Another monkey that was common in the forest was a
species of _Ateles_, or spider-monkey, which is very appropriately
named on account of its slender build and long, wiry arms and legs; it
also is of a black color, and swings its way through the branches much
after the order of a gibbon, although it lacks the latter’s agility.
The Indians are very fond of this species, both for food and as pets;
but whatever epicurean merits may attach to the flesh, in appearance
the creatures are most repulsive. The face is pinched and drawn, with a
long-suffering expression about the eyes, while a tuft of long, stiff
hair extending over the forehead like a ragged cap gives it a greater
look of misery and grotesqueness. One specimen which I collected
measured six feet two inches from the tips of the fingers to the tip of
the tail.
Birds were not uncommon, but rather hard to observe on account of the
density of the vegetation. Near the river stretched a wide band of
bamboo, beautiful to look upon but impossible to penetrate without
the aid of a machete. Just beyond, the trees grew tall and in close
proximity, giant _castanhas_, _heveas_, and ironwoods intermingling
their branches to form a canopy of deepest green, impervious to
sunlight and through which rain filtered slowly; palms, ferns, and
thorny shrubbery formed a dense undergrowth near the streams, so that
progress at best was slow. From all sides came the clear, ringing
“_hoo-whee-whee-hoo_” of the gold-bird, or whistling _cotinga_, often
misnamed the bell-bird, and although the sound came from but a few feet
overhead, it was usually impossible to locate the dull, slate-colored
songster perched motionless on a well-screened branch. The smaller
species of birds travelled in large flocks, doubtless deriving some
mutual benefit from this mode of living; usually the band was preceded
by a few scouting brown wood-hewers, some with slender bills four
inches long bent in a half-circle, flitting silently from trunk to
trunk, lighting low down and running up rapidly, while they searched
the crevices in the bark for insects; then came the vast host of
vireos, warblers, flycatchers, tanagers, and woodpeckers, completely
investing the trees in their all-absorbing quest of a livelihood.
Twigs snapped, seeds dropped, the woods seemed full of fluttering
wings and chirping voices; but in a few moments the noise grew faint
and stopped; the tireless army had gone its way, and the vanguard of
trogons suddenly appeared, hovered in mid-air to snap off an enticing
fruit, and then hurried away. Occasionally we were fortunate enough to
shoot a curassow, a large turkey-like bird, and then our Brazilian chef
prepared the national dish called _canja_; it consists of a fowl and
rice boiled together and is delicious.
On account of its large size, work on the dugout progressed slowly; a
section of the trunk, some thirty feet long, had been cut off where
the tree had fallen, and this was being hollowed out with adzes,
while short-handled axes were used in dressing down the exterior.
After twelve days of continuous hewing the dugout began to assume the
appearance of a seaworthy craft, and we figured that she would be ready
to launch at the end of another two weeks; but the next day a _batelão_
arrived. Her captain had been fighting his way up the Gy-Paraná over
three months in his efforts to reach Barão de Melgaço, having been sent
from the Madeira by order of Colonel Rondon.
We loaded our meagre outfit into the _batelão_, which was a good-sized
craft built of boards nailed over heavy wooden ribs, and with a squared
tree-trunk for a keel; an arched palm-leaf roof covered a section in
the centre, under which we sat to avoid the rain or sun. This style of
boat is in general use on the larger tropical rivers and corresponds
with the _falca_ of the Orinoco and the _champan_ of the Magdalena. A
crew of eighteen men was mustered, all of whom were more than willing
to leave their pestilential environs, and we were soon shooting
down-stream with the rapid current. Captain Amilcar had gone on ahead
with the small canoes in order to survey the river. They carried a
sighting-rod with red disks and a telemeter for measuring distances; a
compass gave them the direction.
A quarter of an hour after starting we reached the camp of the
telegraphic commission and made a short stop to take aboard a number
of men who were suffering with fever and beri-beri; shattered wrecks
of humanity whose only hope of life lay in flight. I saw a number
of the _camaradas_ who had come across Matto Grosso with us, and it
was surprising to note the great change which only two weeks in the
steaming, insect-infested forest had wrought; several of them were
already suffering from violent attacks of malaria, and their faces
were colorless and sallow; others who had been in the region longer
stared at the _batelão_ with sunken, lustreless eyes in which not
even a vestige of interest in our visit or of hope was evident; a few
had apparently reached the stage where the sight of the twelve newly
made mounds on the hilltop no longer aroused feelings of dread or
apprehension, but rather of indifference tempered with longing for a
welcome release.
The Commemoração, the headwater branch of the Gy-Paraná, on which we
were, is a deep river from three hundred to a thousand feet wide, with
reddish water and a swift current. It was not necessary for the men to
ply the oars except when rounding some sharp bend where steerage-way
was required, and this was fortunate, as it rained so much of the time
that the men were glad to seek the protection offered by the covered
portion of the boat. In the intervals between the deluging showers the
sun blazed down mercilessly; trees on both sides of the narrow lane of
water sparkled as if bedecked with jewels. In places the forest rose
from the river’s edge in sheer walls of variegated green; tree-trunks,
brush, and palms united into one solid battlement by mosses, climbing
lilies, and ensnaring creepers. Again, clumps of graceful ita-palms
leaned far out over the water and then rose in a series of stately,
feather-crowned columns. At frequent intervals we had glimpses of the
animal life that lurked within the impenetrable barrier of the forest
fastness. Monkeys were especially plentiful, and within an hour after
starting we had seen four distinct species, representing as many
families; there were files of black howlers, the males jet-black,
while the females are of a straw-color, moving leisurely through the
branches; troops of dainty squirrel-monkeys, with deep-chestnut backs,
grayish heads, and white faces, scampered over the tops of the lower
trees. Black spider-monkeys sat in the highest crotches and gazed down
at us in stupid perplexity, and once we startled a family of woolly
little night-monkeys of a grayish color, which had selected a thick
clump of overhanging vegetation as their diurnal sleeping-place. Large
flocks of blue-and-yellow macaws, flying two by two, crossed the river
high overhead, doubtless on their way to some choice feeding-ground.
Kingfishers sped away in front of the hurrying _batelão_, and from the
depths of the woods came the muffled sound of an ivory-bill’s tapping
on a hollow trunk.
That night we reached the junction of the rivers Commemoração and
_Pimentá Bueno_, the latter a stream not less than a thousand yards
wide, with a great volume of water. The river formed by the confluence
of these two streams is known as the Gy-Paraná. We had covered a
distance of eighty kilometres. In ascending, it had taken the _batelão_
nineteen days to cover the same stretch of river that we had just
descended in one day.
Of course, the surveying canoes could not travel at this rapid pace,
so the two parties became separated. In the very beginning Captain
Amilcar’s party had suffered an accident which came near ending fatally
for several of the men in his canoe. Their work necessitated frequent
halts, and to bring the dugouts to a stop while racing down-stream
was no easy task; so they had adopted the method of driving them into
the vegetation and then holding on to the branches while a sight was
taken with the telemeter. On one of these occasions a bushmaster fully
seven feet long was shaken from the overhanging brush and fell into the
canoe; the panic-stricken crew leaped into the water. Captain Amilcar
retained his presence of mind and shot the snake, but in the meantime
several of the men had been swept down-stream and were on the verge
of drowning before he could reach them; the geologist had gone to the
bottom, but was rescued and revived with some difficulty; thereafter he
travelled with us in the _batelão_.
There were numbers of small alligators in the river, not over four feet
long, called _jacaretinga_; later on we had the cook prepare one, as
they were said to be good to eat. The flesh was of a white color when
cooked, and tender, but it possessed an objectionable muddy flavor, so
that we could eat but little of it; however, the natives liked it.
The next day we covered a distance of one hundred and eight kilometres.
The current in the Gy-Paraná is not so strong as in the Commemoração,
but, the weather being fair, the men pulled at the oars steadily
during the twelve hours’ travel, with only short periods for rest and
refreshment. All meals were cooked aboard, on a fire built on a box
of sand in the prow. Insects were not particularly troublesome, as
we kept to the middle of the stream, which, receiving the water of
numerous good-sized tributaries, was constantly growing wider. There
were abundant signs of the close proximity of Indians on both sides of
the river. We saw some palm-leaf lean-tos used for overnight stops,
with the charred sticks of a camp-fire in front; where the water
eddied slowly against a crumbling bank, bamboo stakes protruded above
the muddy stream--remnants of an ancient fish-trap--and occasionally
we passed a small cleared spot, now overgrown with rank weeds and
second-growth sprouts, which marked the site of an old plantation.
Realizing the importance of obtaining the good-will of the wild folk
of whose existence in the surrounding forest there was such abundant
evidence, the Brazilian Government had erected a number of small bamboo
and palm-leaf sheds various distances apart, near some of the more
recently used trails that led from the water into the dark jungle.
Under each rough shelter a bench, made of long poles laid across
sticks driven into the ground, had been built. It was the custom of
the officials in going up or down the river to stop at each of these
stations and place beads, knives, and trinkets on the benches as a
peace-offering to the Indians; but so reticent had been the latter
that not one of the articles had hitherto been touched. Great was our
surprise and joy to find that all the precious offerings had been
removed, and that the Indians themselves had left a number of tokens
of friendship in return. They were arrows six feet long, beautifully
adorned with the bright-colored feathers of trogons, toucans, and other
birds; parcels of Brazil nuts neatly done up in leaves; a few ears of
maize, a feather head-dress, and a small pottery bowl. We collected all
these treasures and left many more presents in exchange.
As we neared one of the last stations the sound of loud hallooing came
from the forest on our right. We swung the great _batelão_ toward the
shore. We landed, but no sooner had we climbed to the top of the steep
bank than we realized how cleverly had been arranged the plan by the
Indians to effect a meeting with the mysterious strangers who were
passing through their country. Following a wide path that led into the
dense forest for a distance of twenty yards, we suddenly came upon
a small, swift stream that sped through a dark tunnel-like opening
under the dense canopy of leaves and branches. As we stared in blank
amazement into the impenetrable tangle of vegetation on the other
side of the stream, there emerged from the forest four nude, bronze
figures, gesticulating wildly and chattering in a strange jargon which,
of course, we could not understand; they were of good build, though
inferior in physique to the Nhambiquaras we had seen on the _chapadão_,
and not over five feet tall, with long, straight hair, and, remarkable
though it is, the tangled hair of two of them was of a decided auburn
color. Their bodies were plentifully besmeared with dark-bluish paint,
applied in queer zigzag designs and giving a grotesque effect. No
wilder scene can be imagined than the quartet of naked, trembling
savages faintly outlined against the dim background of merging shadows
and sombre green; somehow they seemed to fit into the picture and to
complete the impression of primality conveyed by the vast wilderness
of the Brazilian hinterland. Our captain held up bunches of bright-red
beads and started to wade into the stream toward them, but they
immediately withdrew into the thick cover, so he came back. A moment
later they reappeared and again began talking and waving their arms; by
signs we tried to induce them to come nearer and to assure them of our
peaceful intentions. Finally, after a powwow with his companions, one
of their number approached to the margin of the stream and held out his
hands. He then pointed to one of our men and motioned for him to take
off his clothes and come over with the presents, which was done; the
Indian grabbed the trinkets from the native’s outstretched hands, gave
him a violent push back, and fled to his companions. This was repeated
a number of times. Then we refused to permit our man to go farther than
the centre of the stream--the water was nearly up to his chin--and
after lengthy entreaties the Indian waded out and met him half-way.
We laid out an attractive assortment of beads, knives, hatchets, and
bright-colored trinkets on our side of the river and, retreating ten
or fifteen feet with extended arms, invited the Indians to come over.
Slowly they came, apparently with many misgivings. We approached them
in a friendly manner; they made no attempt to flee, but cast meaning
glances behind them where, obviously, an armed force was concealed near
by to protect them in the event that our actions aroused suspicion. The
chief was an intelligent fellow; his first deed was to enact before
our eyes a drama that we shall never forget. Assuming a rigid pose, he
pointed straight in front of him with one hand, as if taking aim; then
with a sudden “pong” he clutched at his breast and fell upon his knees,
gradually sinking to the ground, where he lay moaning. We understood
the accusation; one of his tribe had been shot to death by our people,
probably a rubber-collector farther down the river; that was the reason
why they had mistrusted us. We showed them how to use the _machetes_
and hatchets, and they seemed delighted; but when we demonstrated the
use of matches their joy knew no bounds; they yelped and danced, made
weird grimaces, and tried to set the trees and bushes afire, like so
many monkeys. Finally, upon our urgent invitation, the chief shouted a
guttural command, and three more savages appeared instantly and joined
the group, making seven in all; the late arrivals were also treated in
a generous manner, and then we withdrew to our boat. Before leaving,
however, we promised to return and bring more _machetes_ and matches,
which they seemed particularly to appreciate, and they in turn promised
to have the bench in the palm-leaf shed heaped with bows and arrows and
other things of their making, promises which were religiously kept on
both sides.
Our next halt was forty kilometres farther down-stream at a rubber-camp
known as Urupá. There were several palm-leaf huts standing on a slight
elevation, so we took our hammocks and mosquito-nets and spent the
night ashore. Travelling eighty kilometres the next day, we reached
another rubber-camp called La Pena. The surrounding forest appeared
most attractive, and it was said that a footpath led far into the
interior to the side of an old Indian village, so I decided to remain
at this point a few days to collect. However, a short walk down the
trail soon showed that this plan was not feasible; the whole country
was inundated to a depth of several feet, and there were so many fallen
trees and clumps of thorny undergrowth that hunting was out of the
question.
[Illustration: A rubber-camp on the Rio Gy-Paraná.]
[Illustration: A rubber-camp on the Lower Gy-Paraná.]
The next day we reached Monte Christo, the depot of a large rubber
concern which has its headquarters on the Madeira; about one hundred
men had congregated here to await the coming of the dry season, when
they would begin collecting rubber-latex from the _hevea_-trees which
abound in the forest. Several long, thatched sheds housed the
waiting crowd; hammocks were strung from every available post and
rafter, giving the interior a cobwebby appearance, and around the
edges of the huts, protected from the rain by the low, ragged roof of
grass and leaves, numerous small fires smouldered, over which the men
boiled their rations of beans or _farinha_. There were pure blacks,
descendants of slaves who had been imported into Brazil from Africa
many years before; also Indians, Portuguese, and men in whose veins
flowed the blood of all three of these races. Many of them were ill
with fever, and had large, vile-looking ulcers or “jungle” sores,
which were said to result from the bite of a small fly. This was not
surprising, as the place was entirely surrounded by pools of black,
stagnant water in which clouds of mosquitoes hatched, and no sanitary
precautions whatever were taken against infection.
The natives are very fond of pets, and numbers of animals taken from
the forest while young were enjoying their full liberty, but never
ventured far from the houses. There was a collared peccary, full grown
and very amiable, which liked to be petted, and emitted short, low
moans and grunts when any one was near it; three curassows, dignified
but restless, spent much of their time preening their feathers on a
half-submerged log. They were beautiful creatures of a deep blue-black
color, with white under parts and a wonderful curled crest. A pair of
trumpeters strutted about the camp; monkeys of the _Cebus_ family and
parrots of several species climbed about in the network of hammocks and
added their chorus of screams and squawks to the general confusion.
We had to leave the _batelão_ at Monte Christo on account of the
cataract which obstructs the river at this point, and carry our luggage
around for a distance of half a mile. Below the rapid we found another
craft similar to the one we had just left--perhaps a trifle larger--and
towed by a small wood-burning launch. On the 18th of March all our
things, and the sick men, several of whom were in a serious condition,
were carried aboard the waiting _batelão_, and the next morning again
found us on our way. The Gy-Paraná was rapidly becoming a vast, muddy
sea, comparing favorably in size to some of the larger affluents of
the Orinoco, such as the Caura and the Ventuari. The character of the
vegetation remained essentially the same, but some of the creepers
that drooped from the tall trees and trailed in the water were covered
with clusters of yellow, pink, and pale-blue flowers. We saw and heard
little of the animal life, as we travelled too far from the banks. In
the afternoon a violent wind-storm blew up the river, accompanied by a
terrific downpour.
Soon after the storm cleared we reached São João, another rubber-camp,
not unlike Monte Christo. The water was so high at this station that
we had to use a canoe in going from one hut to another, and the
whole place reeked with pestilence. It is infinitely more dangerous
to traverse country of this kind than to pass through an entirely
uninhabited region; the huts are fertile propagators and harborers
of contagion of all kinds, to say nothing of the danger to which one
is exposed on account of the more or less constant mingling with the
natives. Just below São João the river is again broken by rapids; we
rowed down to the beginning of the turbulent water in a canoe and then
carried around to the foot of the falls. The distance is not great,
but we had to cross a high, rocky hill, so that we were delayed a day
in making this portage. The rapids are called São Feliz and are of
a formidable character, as the bed of the river is dotted with huge
granite boulders over and among which the water rushes with a roar
that can be heard half a mile away. During the dry season these rocks
are exposed by the receding water and left covered with a thin scum of
mud impregnated with salt; it is said that parrots, parrakeets, and
macaws then come in thousands to eat of the saline deposit, and that
they become so tame great numbers of them are killed with sticks and
eaten by the rubber-collectors. I saw two macaws nearly three feet in
length, and of a blood-red color with blue-and-golden wings, that had
been caught the previous year; they were beautiful creatures, but had
the curious habit of spending the entire day squatting in a dark hole
under the floor of their owner’s hut, coming out only when hungry and
at night, when they climbed to a perch above the door to sleep.
After dark our men indulged in a curious native dance which I had never
seen before in South America; they collected a great heap of wood
and soon after supper had a roaring bonfire going; then they formed
a circle, with one man in the centre who began to sing in a high,
strained voice, and after each line the whole chorus answered with
a wail that sounded something like “_oh-tee-oh-tee-ah_.” The centre
man bowed and hopped about on one foot in a most ridiculous manner
and made frequent sudden charges into the surrounding company, and if
he succeeded in knocking one of them down that man took his place in
the middle of the ring. The whole performance looked very much like
an imitation of a cock-fight. Some of the onlookers had rattles made
of small calabashes full of pebbles stuck on a short piece of bamboo,
which they shook in rhythm with the singing; they seemed perfectly
insatiable of this form of amusement, and the dancing and howling
lasted far into the night.
Below São Feliz we found another small launch towing a _batelão_, which
in the course of a day took us to a camp called Tabajara. We had not
gone more than a few miles the next morning when further progress was
again barred by rapids. After a short walk we crossed a branch of the
river in small dugouts and then started on a two-mile portage through
the flooded forest. Another launch was waiting below the rapids, but
within twenty minutes after weighing anchor we again heard the roar of
troubled waters ahead of us; the river raced between high, rock-strewn
banks. In the distance we could see flecks of foam dotting the surface,
while a cloud of mist hung over the river; but from beyond the veil
that obstructed our further view came the ominous roar of a great
cataract, growing in intensity as we drew near. The landing was about
a hundred yards above the brink of the first fall, but the current
proved to be too strong for the launch’s little engine, and we were in
danger of being swept past; the moments that followed were exciting,
but fortunately we managed to reach the bank. This same thing had
occurred but a short time before, but the result had been disastrous;
the boat was swept over the falls, and, of the thirty-one men aboard,
twenty-seven were never seen again. The portage around these rapids,
called São Vicente, was about a mile and a half in length and led over
gently undulating country, all heavily forested. In many places the
bed-rock had been uncovered by the torrential rains. This consisted of
fine-grained, dark granite; usually there was a shallow layer of sand
on the rock, with a thick covering of rich black mould. From the top of
a high knoll we had a fairly good view of the falls and of the rapids
below; after leaping over a twenty-foot ledge the river rushes through
a narrow rock-filled gorge; enormous boulders tower out of the channel
like so many black, unvanquished monarchs. Tongues of spray leap to a
height of forty feet, and clouds of vapor rise in a constant stream.
With the exception of the Salto Bello of the Rio Sacre and Utiarity
Falls of the Papagaio, we had seen nothing to compare with São Vicente
during our entire journey across Brazil.
That night we reached the first settlement, a small village named Doze
de Novembro. We arrived tired and wet, for it had rained the greater
part of the afternoon, but we congratulated ourselves upon having
performed a remarkable day’s work.
The place was overrun with ants, not the comparatively harmless
_carregador_ ants, which are content to carry away your clothing
piecemeal while you sleep, but with endless armies of the fierce black
carnivorous species that prey upon every living being. These ants are
one of the scourges of the tropics; whether in the fever-stricken
Chocó on the west coast of Colombia, at the base of Duida on the
Orinoco, or in the wilds of Matto Grosso, the ravaging hordes seemed
always the same. One moment they hurry along in solid formations,
the next side-lines have been thrown out in all directions, covering
many square yards of ground. Not one leaf or crevice escapes the
alert scouting-parties, which ascend even to the top of the tallest
tree. When a victim is discovered the news in some mysterious way
is flashed to the main column, and battalions of reinforcements
immediately rush to the encounter, charging the prey and clinging
with vise-like mandibles to any part of its body that offers a hold.
Usually the approach of the devastating host is preceded by a swarm
of panic-stricken insects, crawling, hopping, and flying in their
endeavors to escape destruction; large, hairy tarantulas crawl to the
tops of bushes and leap from leaf to leaf, only to be discovered and
routed, until in despair they spring to the ground, which by this time
is one surging mass of ants, where they are despatched in short order.
I have seen scorpions and centipedes eight inches long suffer a similar
fate; no living thing seems to escape the avalanche of destruction.
Flocks of ant-birds usually follow in the wake of the army, feeding
upon the ants and upon the insects that have been driven from their
hiding-places. One of the questions that naturally arises in this
connection is how the callow young of birds escape from the ants, as
caged birds are not immune from their attacks, and dead or wounded
birds placed near the army’s line of march are quickly discovered,
torn to shreds, and carried away. While in British Guiana I had been
watching the nest of an ant-wren containing two helpless young, placed
in the crotch of a tree a few feet above the ground, for several days;
one morning the whole region was swarming with ants and the nest was
empty; however, not long after, and also on subsequent days, both
parent birds were seen contentedly carrying food into a thicket fifty
yards away. A casual search failed to reveal the new nest, but to my
mind there was no doubt that the young birds had been removed upon the
approach of danger; one of the adults was marked in a peculiar manner,
so that there was no mistake in the identity of the pair. Doubtless
this was an exceptional case, and in the vast majority of instances
young birds perish in common with the other creatures which are
overwhelmed by the ants.
On the day following our arrival at the little village we boarded a
waiting launch sent from the Madeira to meet us--the _Jayme_, she
was called--and started on the final stretch down the stream; within
an hour we reached the boundary-line of Matto Grosso and entered the
great state of Amazonas. The Gy-Paraná had assumed the proportions of
a mighty river; it is doubtless one of the largest, if not the longest
affluent of the Madeira, and frequently the distance between banks was
not less than half a league. The water was yellow and there was little
current; frequently we ran into drifts of floating trees, branches, and
patches of grass that had been washed out of the flooded areas. There
was no opening in the tall, tropical forest which stretched into the
distance and disappeared in one long, unbroken vista of deepest green.
Toward evening we reached the mouth of the Gy-Paraná and entered the
vast, muddy expanse of the Madeira; we crossed to the other side and
landed at a small port called Calama, the home of Senhor Asensi, owner
of the rubber-camps we had passed on the last days of our journey down
the river. Senhor Asensi very courteously placed his comfortable home
at our disposal and suggested that we remain as his guests until we
had in some measure recuperated from our rather trying experiences,
and we were glad to accept his hospitality. Practically every member
of the party had suffered from frequent and severe attacks of fever,
although half a gram of quinine had been taken by each one daily,
and some of the _camaradas_ were so ill that they had to be carried
ashore; the latter were sent to Manaos on the first available steamer
for medical treatment. I was particularly eager to spend some time
at Calama, as the locality appeared to offer unusual opportunities
for zoological work. After a few days of thorough rest the Brazilian
members of the party started up-river to Santo Antonio, for a tour of
the Madeira-Mamoré railroad, while I remained to investigate the fauna
of the region.
The country back of Calama is high and undulating, so that it remains
untouched by the water that covers the lowlands during the wet season.
A small space which had been cleared around the building was covered
with a fine growth of grass and low bushes, and served as pasture for
a few head of cattle; small birds, such as flycatchers, grass-finches,
and tanagers teemed in the opening, and many thick-billed green
parrots squawked in the tree-tops at the edge of the forest. A short
distance below the landing there was an extensive swamp and many small
brush-covered islands; masses of aquatic plants floated in the quiet,
open pools, conspicuous among which was the beautiful _Victoria regia_,
with leaves four feet in diameter. In the dense, tangled vegetation
that grew out of the black depths of the murky swamp-water we found
flocks of _hoatzins_, or lizard-birds, curious archaic creatures which
retain some of the characteristics of their reptilian ancestors; they
are about the size of a pheasant, of an olive color above and yellowish
below; a high crest crowns the head, and they possess only a limited
power of flight. It was the height of the nesting-season, and many of
the fragile platforms of sticks contained two or three yellowish eggs,
heavily spotted with reddish-brown; the wings of the young are provided
with long, sharp claws which enable them to climb about over the
branches like lizards; hence their name.
All travelling through the swamp had to be done in a canoe; and pushing
the dugout through the almost solid mass of branches and creepers was
a difficult task. Every twig seemed to swarm with small red ants,
called fire-ants, on account of the intense burning sensation produced
by their bites, and they were constantly dropping upon us in scores.
Several times we blundered into _maribundi_ nests, and in each instance
the outraged wasps promptly retaliated. Large _iguanas_ jumped out of
the trees into the water with a loud splash as we passed underneath,
and troops of woolly monkeys deserted the wild cashew-trees in which
they fed and beat a hasty retreat. The swamp was full of life, but we
rarely recovered anything we shot; the caymans and _piranhas_ with
which the water was infested usually snapped up our specimens before
we could reach them. At night we set throw-lines and caught the great
_pacu_, a fish of the _piranha_ family; but unlike its bloodthirsty
relative it prefers a vegetable diet. A _pirarucú_, six feet long and
weighing two hundred and fifty pounds, was also taken; this is the
largest fish that inhabits Amazonian waters; the scales are an inch and
a half in diameter and of a silvery color, those of the latter half
of the body being margined with deep scarlet. It is delicious, either
fresh or salted.
The forest back of Calama contained about as much game as is ever found
in one spot in South America. There were deer, agoutis, and peccaries,
but it was impossible to penetrate far into the interior on account of
the Parintintin Indians, who make this region their stronghold. These
Indians have always maintained a hostile attitude toward the settlers.
An attack was made on Calama one day at noon just as luncheon was being
served; from out of the dead silence of midday there suddenly came a
shower of arrows; this was promptly answered by rifle-shots from the
house, and the Indians immediately fled. Thirty bamboo arrows were
gathered up, many of them five feet tall, with barbs on each side of
the head; some of the shafts were wrapped with hair and skin taken from
the victims of previous raids.
The Parintintins are of medium stature and well built; they are
frequently at war with their near neighbors, the Mundrucus; when
hostilities are in progress, which is nearly always, the front of the
head is shaven, leaving only a round spot of short hair no larger than
a silver half-dollar in the centre; the hair on the back of the head
remains long.
The Mundrucus have the curious custom of preserving the heads of the
Parintintins slain in battle; one of these I subsequently saw, prepared
somewhat in the same manner as those formerly so highly prized by the
head-hunters of Ecuador. Apparently the head had been smoked, and the
eyes had been replaced with balls of pitch; it was a weird trophy,
suggestive of wild orgies and cannibalistic rites performed in the
depths of the jungle by the light of flickering pitch-torches, and to
the music of wailing reeds and deep-voiced tom-toms.
Captain Amilcar reached Calama about a week after our arrival. He
had suffered a second accident, in which his canoe, all his personal
effects, the instruments, and practically all of his scientific data
had been lost. These incidents emphasize the uncertainty of travel and
exploration on the great South American waterways, and the dangers to
which every one is constantly subjected who ventures beyond the beaten
paths of steamships and tourists’ routes.
On April 7 the _Fortaleza_, a good-sized steamer plying between Manaos
and Santo Antonio, called at Calama on her down-stream journey, and we
embarked for the last stage of our journey. We made excellent time,
stopping only at long intervals for the purpose of taking aboard
Brazil nuts. On the 9th of April we entered the Amazon, and the next
morning found us steaming up the Rio Negro, with Manaos visible in
the distance. It had been fifty-two days since the division of the
expedition at the River of Doubt.
Upon reaching Manaos we found that as yet no word had been received
from Colonel Roosevelt and his party, who were supposedly still on the
_Rio da Duvida_. A steamer, provided with comforts which would indeed
be welcome to the explorers after their long, arduous voyage in canoes,
had been sent up the river; with each passing day the excitement grew
more intense in Manaos, and many conjectures were made as to the
probable date of the return of that expedition.
Before embarking on the unknown river Colonel Roosevelt had requested
me to wait for him should I reach Manaos first, and in the event of his
arriving in advance of our party he would await our return. I therefore
spent a pleasant week in the city, and was treated with the utmost
courtesy by the governor and the inhabitants.
I had become acquainted with a Senhor Ramos, who invited me to visit a
ranch he was opening some distance up the Solimões, so I accompanied
him, hoping to add new treasures to the large collections we had
brought from the Gy-Paraná and the Madeira. After spending a profitable
week at this _fazenda_ we repaired to another locality on a different
branch of the river.
The latter region proved fully as interesting as the first, but
scarcely had we become well established in our new surroundings than
we were awakened one morning about one o’clock by the sharp blasts of
a siren from the river below. We reached the water’s edge in a few
moments, and there found a large steam-launch resting at anchor, the
captain of which brought the good news that the long-absent expedition
had arrived at Manaos. Half an hour later we were aboard, steaming at
full speed down the river, arriving about seven o’clock in the city.
The story of Colonel Roosevelt’s experiences on the unexplored river is
well known. Owing to illness during the many weeks’ struggle against
all but insurmountable difficulties, he had wasted to a mere shadow of
his former self; but his unbounded enthusiasm remained undiminished.
Shortly after noon on May 1 we boarded the S. S. _Dunstan_, on which we
proceeded down the Amazon to Pará, and at that city transferred to the
_Aiden_ for the long, uneventful voyage home.