THE JOURNEY UP THE ITECOAHY RIVER
With the subsiding of the waters came my long-desired opportunity
to travel the course of the unmapped Itecoahy. In the month of June
a local trader issued a notice that he was to send a launch up the
river for trading purposes and to take the workers who had been
sojourning in Remate de Males back to their places of employment,
to commence the annual extraction of rubber. The launch was scheduled
to sail on a Monday and would ascend the Itecoahy to its headwaters,
or nearly so, thus passing the mouths of the Ituhy, the Branco,
and Las Pedras rivers, affluents of considerable size which are
nevertheless unrecorded on maps. The total length of the Branco River
is over three hundred miles, and it has on its shores several large
and productive _seringales_.
When on my way up the Amazon to the Brazilian frontier, I had stopped
at Manaos, the capital of the State of Amazonas. There I had occasion
to consult an Englishman about the Javary region. In answer to one of
my inquiries, I received the following letter, which speaks for itself:
Referring to our conversation of recent date, I should wish once
more to impress upon your mind the perilous nature of your journey,
and I am not basing this information upon hearsay, but upon personal
experience, having traversed the region in question quite recently.
Owing to certain absolutely untrue articles written by one H----,
claiming to be your countryman, I am convinced that you can not rely
upon the protection of the employees of this company, as having been
so badly libelled by one, they are apt to forget that such articles
were not at your instigation, and as is often the case the innocent
may suffer for the guilty.
On the other hand, without this protection you will find yourself
absolutely at the mercy of savage and cannibal Indians.
I have this day spoken to the consul here at Manaos and explained
to him that, although I have no wish to deter you from your voyage,
you must be considered as the only one responsible in any way for
any ill that may befall you.
Finally, I hope that before disregarding this advice (which I offer
you in a perfectly friendly spirit) you will carefully consider the
consequences which such a voyage might produce, and, frankly speaking,
I consider that your chance of bringing it to a successful termination
is Nil.
Believe me to be, etc.,
J.A.M.
During the time of my journey up the river and of my stay in Remate
de Males, I had seen nothing of the particular dangers mentioned
in this letter. The only Indians I had seen were such as smoked
long black cigars and wore pink or blue pajamas. The letter further
developed an interest, started by the hints of life in the interior,
which had come to me in the civilisation of Remate de Males. I was,
of course, particularly desirous of finding out all I could about the
wild people of the inland regions, since I could not recall that much
had been written about them.
Henry W. Bates, the famous explorer who ascended the Amazon as far
as Teffé, came within 120 miles of the mouth of the Javary River in
the year 1858, and makes the following statement about the indigenous
tribes of this region:
The only other tribe of this neighbourhood concerning which I obtained
any information was the Mangeromas, whose territory embraces several
hundred miles of the western banks of the river Javary, an affluent
of the Solimoës, a hundred and twenty miles beyond São Paolo da
Olivença. These are fierce and indomitable and hostile people, like the
Araras of the Madeira River. They are also cannibals. The navigation
of the Javary River is rendered impossible on account of the Mangeromas
lying in wait on its banks to intercept and murder all travellers.
Now to return to the letter; I thought that perhaps my English friend
had overdrawn things a little in a laudable endeavour to make me more
cautious. In other words, it was for me the old story over again, of
learning at the cost of experience--the story of disregarded advice,
and so I went on in my confidence.
When the announcement of the launch's sailing came, I went immediately
for an interview with the owner, a Brazilian named Pedro Smith,
whose kindness I shall never forget. He offered me the chance of
making the entire trip on his boat, but would accept no remuneration,
saying that I would find conditions on the little overcrowded vessel
very uncomfortable, and that the trip would not be free from actual
bodily risk. When even he tried to dissuade me, I began to think
more seriously of the Englishman's letter, but I told him that I had
fully made up my mind to penetrate the mystery of those little known
regions. I use the term "little known" in the sense that while they
are well enough known to the handful of Indians and rubber-workers
yet they are "terra incognita" to the outside world. The white man
has not as yet traversed this Itecoahy and its affluents, although
it would be a system of no little importance if located in some other
country--for instance, in the United States.
My object was to study the rubber-worker at his labour, to find out the
true length of the Itecoahy River, and to photograph everything worth
while. I had with me all the materials and instruments necessary--at
least so I thought.
The photographic outfit consisted of a Graflex camera with a shutter
of high speed, which would come handy when taking animals in motion,
and a large-view camera with ten dozen photographic plates and a
corresponding amount of prepared paper. In view of the difficulties
of travel, I had decided to develop my plates as I went along and make
prints in the field, rather than run the risk of ruining them by some
unlucky accident. Perhaps at the very end of the trip a quantity
of undeveloped plates might be lost, and such a calamity would
mean the failure of the whole journey in one of its most important
particulars. Such a disastrous result was foreshadowed when a porter,
loaded with my effects, clambering down the sixty-foot incline extreme
low water made at Remate de Males, lost his balance in the last few
feet of the descent and dropped into the water, completely ruining
a whole pack of photographic supplies whose arrival from New York I
had been awaiting for months. Luckily this was at the beginning of
this trip and I could replace them from my general stock.
A hypodermic outfit, quinine, and a few bistouries completed my
primitive medical department. Later on these proved of the greatest
value. I would never think of omitting such supplies even in a case
where a few pounds of extra weight are not rashly to be considered. It
turned out that in the regions I penetrated, medical assistance was
a thing unheard of within a radius of several hundred miles.
A Luger automatic pistol of a calibre of nine millimetres, and several
hundred cartridges, were my armament, and for weeks this pistol became
my only means of providing a scant food supply.
Thus equipped I was on hand early in the morning of the day of
starting, anxious to see what sort of shipmates I was to have. They
proved all to be _seringueiros_, bound for the upper river. Our
craft was a forty-foot launch called the _Carolina_. There was a
large crowd of the passengers assembled when I arrived, and they
kept coming. To my amazement, it developed that one hundred and
twenty souls were expected to find room on board, together with
several tons of merchandise. The mystery of how the load was to be
accommodated was somewhat solved, when I saw them attach a lighter to
each side of the launch, and again, when some of the helpers brought
up a fleet of dugouts which they proceeded to make fast by a stern
hawser. But the mystery was again increased, when I was told that
none of the passengers intended to occupy permanent quarters on the
auxiliary fleet. As I was already taken care of, I resolved that if
the problem was to worry anybody, it would be the _seringueiros_,
though I realised that I would be travelling by "slow steamer" when
the little old-fashioned _Carolina_ should at length begin the task
of fighting the five-mile current with this tagging fleet to challenge
its claim to a twelve-horse-power engine.
The _seringueiros_ and their families occupied every foot of space
that was not reserved for merchandise. Hammocks were strung over
and under each other in every direction, secured to the posts which
supported the roof. Between them the rubber-coated knapsacks were
suspended. On the roof was an indiscriminate mass of chicken-coops
with feathered occupants; and humanity.
About midships on each lighter was a store-room, one of which was
occupied by the clerk who accompanied the launch. In this they
generously offered me the opportunity of making my headquarters
during the trip. The room was about six feet by eight and contained
a multitude of luxuries and necessities for the rubber-workers. There
were .44 Winchester rifles in large numbers, the usual, indispensable
Collins machete, and tobacco in six-feet-long, spindle-shaped
rolls. There was also the "***" Hennessy cognac, selling at 40,000
reis ($14.00 gold) a bottle; and every variety of canned edible from
California pears to Horlick's malted milk, from Armour's corned beef
to Heinz's sweet pickles.
Every one was anxious to get started; I, who had more to look forward
to than months of monotonous labour in the forests, not the least. At
last the owner of the boat arrived, it being then two o'clock in the
afternoon. He came aboard to shake hands with everyone and after a
long period of talking pulled the cord leading to the steam-whistle,
giving the official signal for departure. It then developed that one
of the firemen was missing. Without him we could not start on our
journey. The whistling was continued for fully forty minutes without
any answer. Finally, the longed-for gentleman was seen emerging
unsteadily from the local gin-shop with no sign of haste. He managed
to crawl on board and we were off, amid much noise and firing of guns.
After a two-hours' run we stopped at a place consisting of two houses
and a banana patch. Evidently the owner of this property made a
side-business of supplying palm-wood as fuel for the launch. A load
was carried on board and stowed beside the boiler, and we went once
more on our way. I cannot say that the immediate surroundings were
comfortable. There were people everywhere. They were lounging in the
hammocks, or lying on the deck itself; and some were even sprawling
uncomfortably on their trunks or knapsacks. A cat would have had
difficulty in squeezing itself through this compact mass of men,
chattering women, and crying children. But I had no sooner begun to
reflect adversely on the situation, than the old charm of the Amazon
asserted itself again and made me oblivious to anything so trivial
as personal comfort surroundings. I became lost to myself in the
enjoyment of the river.
That old fig-tree on the bank is worth looking at. The mass of its
branches, once so high-reaching and ornamental, now lie on the ground
in a confused huddle, shattered and covered with parasites and orchids,
while millions of ants are in full activity destroying the last
clusters of foliage. It is only a question of weeks, perhaps days,
before some blast of wind will throw this humbled forest-monarch over
the steep bank of the river. When the water rises again, the trunk
with a few skeleton branches will be carried away with the current
to begin a slow but relentless drift to old Father Amazon. Here and
there will be a little pause, while the river gods decide, and then it
will move on, to be caught somewhere along the course and contribute
to the formation of some new island or complete its last long journey
to the Atlantic Ocean.
As the launch rounds bend after bend in the river, the same magnificent
forest scenery is repeated over and over again. Sometimes a tall
matamatá tree stands in a little accidental clearing, entirely
covered with a luxuriant growth of vegetation. But these are borrowed
plumes. Bushropes, climbers, and vines have clothed it from root
to topmost branch, but they are only examples of the legion of
beautiful parasites that seem to abound in the tropics. They will
sap the vitality of this masterpiece of Nature, until in its turn
it will fall before some stormy night's blow. All along the shore
there is a myriad life among the trees and beautifully coloured birds
flash in and out of the branches. You can hear a nervous chattering
and discern little brown bodies swinging from branch to branch,
or hanging suspended for fractions of a second from the network of
climbers and aerial roots. They are monkeys. They follow the launch
along the trees on the banks for a while and then disappear.
The sun is glaring down on the little craft and its human freight. The
temperature is 112 degrees (F.) in the shade and the only place for
possible relief is on a box of cognac alongside the commandant's
hammock. He has fastened this directly behind the wheel so that he
can watch the steersman, an Indian with filed teeth and a machete
stuck in his belt.
Would anyone think that these trees, lining the shore for miles and
miles and looking so beautiful and harmless by day, have a miasmatic
breath or exhalation at night that produces a severe fever in one who
is subjected for any length of time to their influence. It would be
impossible for even the most fantastical scenic artist to exaggerate
the picturesque combinations of colour and form ever changing like
a kaleidoscope to exhibit new delights. A tall and slender palm
can be seen in its simple beauty alongside the white trunk of the
embauba tree, with umbrella-shaped crown, covered and gracefully
draped with vines and hanging plants, whose roots drop down until
they reach the water, or join and twist themselves until they form a
leaf-portière. And for thousands of square miles this ever changing
display of floral splendour is repeated and repeated. And it would be
a treat for an ornithologist to pass up the river. A hundred times
a day flocks of small paroquets fly screaming over our heads and
settle behind the trees. Large, green, blue, and scarlet parrots,
the araras, fly in pairs, uttering penetrating, harsh cries, and
sometimes an egret with her precious snow-white plumage would keep
just ahead of us with graceful wing-motion, until she chose a spot
to alight among the low bushes close to the water-front.
The dark blue toucan, with its enormous scarlet and yellow beak,
would suddenly appear and fly up with peculiar jerky swoops, at the
same time uttering its yelping cry. Several times I saw light green
lizards of from three to four feet in length stretched out on branches
of dead trees and staring at us as we passed.
Night came and drew its sombre curtain over the splendours. I was
now shown a place of unpretentious dimensions where I could suspend
my hammock, but, unluckily, things were so crowded that there was
no room for a mosquito-net around me. Under ordinary circumstances,
neglect of this would have been an inexcusable lack of prudence,
but I lay down trusting that the draft created by the passage of the
boat would keep the insect pests away, as they told me it would. I
found that experience had taught them rightly.
To the post where I tied the foot-end of my hammock there were fastened
six other hammocks. Consequently seven pairs of feet were bound to
come into pretty close contact with each other. While I was lucky
enough to have the hammock closest to the rail, I was unlucky enough
to have as my next neighbour a woman; she was part Brazilian negro
and part Indian. She had her teeth filed sharp like shark's teeth,
wore brass rings in her ears, large enough to suspend portières from,
and smoked a pipe continually. I found later that it was a habit to
take the pipe to bed with her, so that she could begin smoking the
first thing in the morning. She used a very expensive Parisian perfume,
whether to mitigate the effects of the pipe or not, I do not know.
Under the conditions I have described I lay down in my hammock, but
found that sleep was impossible. There was nothing to do but resign
myself to Fate and find amusement, with all the philosophy possible,
by staring at the sky. I counted the stars over and over again and
tried to identify old friends among the constellations. Among them the
Southern Cross was a stranger to me, but the Great Dipper, one end
of which was almost hidden behind the trees, I recognised with all
the freedom of years of acquaintance. My mind went back to the last
time I had seen it; across the house-tops of old Manhattan it was,
and under what widely different conditions!
At last a merciful Providence closed my eyes and I was soon transported
by the arms of Morpheus to the little lake in Central Park that I had
liked so well. I dreamed of gliding slowly over the waters of that
placid lake, and awoke to find myself being energetically kicked in the
shins by my female neighbour. There was nothing to do but indulge in
a few appropriate thoughts on this community-sleeping-apartment life,
and then I got up to wander forward, as best I could in the dark,
across the sleeping forms and take refuge on top of my case of cognac.
We seemed to be down in a pool of vast darkness, of whose walls no
one could guess the limits. I listened to the gurgling of water at
the bow and wondered how it was possible for the man at the wheel
to guide our course without colliding with the many tree trunks that
were scattered everywhere about us. The river wound back and forth,
hardly ever running straight for more than half a mile, and the pilot
continually had to steer the boat almost to the opposite bank to keep
the trailing canoes from stranding on the sand-bars at the turns. Now
and then a lightning flash would illuminate the wild banks, proving
that we were not on the bosom of some Cimmerian lake, but following a
continuous stream that stretched far ahead, and I could get a glimpse
of the dark, doubly-mysterious forests on either hand; and now and
then a huge tree-trunk would slip swiftly and silently past us.
The only interruption of the perfect quiet that prevailed was the
occasional outburst of roars from the throat of the howling monkey,
which I had come to know as making the night hideous in Remate de
Males. But the present environment added just the proper atmosphere
to make one think for a second that he was participating in some
phantasm of Dante's.
There was no particular incident to record on the trip, till June
the 16th, in the night-time, when we arrived at Porto Alegre, the
glad harbour, which consisted of one hut. This hut belonged to the
proprietor of a _seringale_. I followed the captain and the clerk
ashore and, with them, was warmly received by the owner, when we had
clambered up the ladder in front of the hut. He had not heard from
civilisation for seven months, and was very glad to see people from
the outside world, especially as they were bringing a consignment of
merchandise that would enable him to commence the annual tapping of
the rubber trees.
About a dozen _seringueiros_ and their families disembarked here and
went without ceremony to their quarters, where they had a fire going
in less than no time.
It is the custom in this section of Brazil to make visitors welcome
in a rather complicated manner. You first place your arm around the
other man's waist, resting the palm of your hand on his back. Then
with the other hand you pat him on the shoulder, or as near that
point as you can reach. Whether it recalled my wrestling practice or
not, I do not know, but the first time I ever tried this, I nearly
succeeded in throwing down the man I was seeking to honour.
After the proprietor had greeted each of us in this cordial way, we sat
down. A large negress made her appearance, smoking a pipe and carrying
a tray full of tiny cups, filled with the usual unsweetened jet-black
coffee. After a brief stay, during which business was discussed and
an account given of the manner of death of all the friends who had
departed this life during the season in Remate de Males, we took our
leave and were off again, in the middle of the night, amid a general
discharging of rifles and much blowing of the steam-whistle.
The night was intensely dark, what moon there was being hidden behind
clouds most of the time, and an occasional flash of lightning would
show us that we were running very close to the shores. I decided
to go on the roof of the right-hand lighter, where I thought I
would get better air and feel more comfortable than in the close
quarters below. On the roof I found some old rags and a rubber coated
knapsack. Taking these to the stern, I lay down upon them and went
to sleep. I imagine that I must have been asleep about two hours,
when I was aroused by a crashing sound that came from the forepart
of the boat. Luckily, I had fallen asleep with my eyeglasses on,
otherwise, as I am near-sighted, I should not have been able to grasp
the situation as quickly as proved necessary.
We were so close to the shore that the branches of a low-hanging tree
swept across the top of the lighter, and it was this branch that caused
the turmoil as the craft passed through it, causing everything to be
torn from the roof; trunks, bags, and chicken-coops, in a disordered
mass. I had received no warning and hardly had collected my senses
before this avalanche was upon me. Seizing the branches as they came, I
held on for dear life. I tried to scramble over them to the other part
of the roof, but having fallen asleep on the stern there was no chance.
I felt myself being lifted off the boat, and as I blindly held on I
had time to wonder whether the tree would keep me out of the water,
or lower me into the waiting jaws of some late alligator. But it did
better than that for me. The branches sagged under my weight, and I
soon saw that they were going to lower me upon the trailing canoes. I
did not wait to choose any particular canoe, but, as the first one
came beneath me, I dropped off, landing directly on top of a sleeping
rubber-worker and giving him probably as bad a scare as I had had. For
the remainder of the night I considered the case of cognac, previously
referred to, a marvellously comfortable and safe place to stay.
During the next day we made two stops, and at the second took on board
eighteen more passengers. It seemed to me that they would have to sleep
in a vertical position, since, as far as I could discover, the places
where it could be done horizontally were all occupied. At five in the
afternoon of this day, we arrived at a small rubber estate called Boa
Vista, where the owner kept cut palm-wood to be used for the launch,
besides bananas, pineapples and a small patch of cocoa-plants. The
firemen of our launch were busily engaged in carrying the wood,
when one of them suddenly threw off his load and came running down
the bank. The others scattered like frightened sheep, and only with
difficulty could be brought to explain that they had seen a snake
of a poisonous variety. We crept slowly up to the place under the
wood-pile which they had pointed out, and there about a foot of the
tail of a beautifully decorated snake was projecting. I jammed my
twenty-four-inch machete through it longitudinally, at the same time
jumping back, since it was impossible to judge accurately where the
head might come from. It emerged suddenly about where we expected, the
thin tongue working in and out with lightning speed and the reptile
evidently in a state of great rage, for which I could hardly blame
it, as its tail was pinned down and perforated with a machete. We
dispatched it with a blow on the head and on measuring it found
the length to be nearly nine feet. The interrupted loading of wood
continued without much additional excitement and we were soon on our
way again.
That night I passed very badly. My female neighbour insisted on
using the edge of my hammock for a foot-rest, and, to add to my
general discomfort, my hammock persisted in assuming a convex shape
rather than a more conventional and convenient concave, which put me
in constant danger of being thrown headlong into the river, only a
few inches away. Finally, I took my hammock down from its fastenings
and went aft where I found a vacant canoe among those still trailing
behind. I threw my hammock in the bottom and with this for a bed
managed to fall asleep, now and then receiving a blow from some
unusually low branch which threatened to upset my floating couch.
The next morning it was found that we had lost two canoes,
evidently torn loose during the night without anybody noticing the
accident. Luckily, I had not chosen either of these to sleep in,
nor had anyone else. I cannot help thinking what my feelings would
have been if I had found myself adrift far behind the launch.
For several days more we continued going up the seemingly endless
river. Human habitations were far apart, the last ones we had seen
as much as eighty-five miles below. We expected soon to be in the
territory owned by Coronel da Silva, the richest rubber proprietor in
the Javary region. I found the level of this land we were passing
through to be slightly higher than any I had traversed as yet,
although even here we were passing through an entirely submerged
stretch of forest. There were high inland spaces that had already
begun to dry up, as we could see, and this was the main indication
of higher altitude than had been found lower down the river. Another
indication was that big game was more in evidence. The animals find
here a good feeding place without the necessity of migrating to
distant locations when the water begins to come through the forest.
At a place, with the name of Nova Aurora, again consisting of one hut,
we found a quantity of skins stretched in the sunlight to dry. They
were mostly the hides of yellow jaguars, or pumas, as we call them
in the United States, and seven feet from the nose to the end of the
tail was not an unusual length. Although, as we learned, they had been
taken from the animals only a few weeks previously, they had already
been partly destroyed by the gnawing of rats. A tapir, weighing nearly
seven hundred and fifty pounds, had been shot the day before and was
being cut up for food when we arrived. We were invited to stay and
take dinner here, and I had my first opportunity of tasting roast
tapir. I found that it resembled roast beef very much, only sweeter,
and the enjoyment of this food belongs among the very few pleasant
memories I preserve of this trip.
While they were getting dinner ready, I noticed what I took to be a
stuffed parrot on a beam in the kitchen. But when I touched its tail
I found that it was enough alive to come near snapping my finger
off. It was a very large arara parrot with two tail feathers, each
about thirty-six inches long, a magnificent specimen worthy of a place
in a museum. Parrots of this particular species are very difficult
to handle, being as stupid and malicious as they are beautiful. They
often made me think of dandies who go resplendent in fine clothes
but are less conspicuous for mental excellences.
After having indulged in black coffee, we were invited to give the
house and the surroundings a general inspection. Directly behind the
structure was the smoking hut, or _defumador_, as it is called. Inside
this are a number of sticks inclined in pyramid form and covered with
palm-leaves. In the floor a hole was dug for the fire that serves for
coagulating the rubber-milk. Over this pit is hung a sort of frame for
guiding the heavy stick employed in the smoking of the rubber. At this
time the process had not become for me the familiar story that it was
destined to be. Beneath the hut were several unfinished paddles and a
canoe under construction. The latter are invariably of the "dugout"
type. A shape is roughly cut from a tree-trunk and then a fire is
built in the centre and kept burning in the selected places until the
trunk is well hollowed out. It is then finished off by hand. Paddles
are formed from the buttresses which radiate from the base of the
matamatá tree, forming thin but very strong spurs. They are easily
cut into the desired shape by the men and receive decorations from
the hands of the women who often produce striking colour effects. A
beautiful scarlet tint is obtained from the fruit of the urueu plant,
and the genipapa produces a deep rich-black colour. These dyes are
remarkably glossy, and they are waterproof and very stable.
After sunset the launch was off again. Everything went quietly until
midnight, when we were awakened with great suddenness. The launch
had collided with a huge log that came floating down the stream. It
wedged itself between the side of the boat and the lighter and it
required much labour to get ourselves loose from it. After we got
free, the log tore two of the canoes from their fastenings and they
drifted off; but the loss was not discovered until the next morning,
when we were about thirty-five miles from the scene of the accident.
Two more days passed without any incident of a more interesting
nature than was afforded by occasional stops at lonely _barracãos_
where merchandise was unloaded and fuel for the engine taken in. We
were always most cordially received by the people and invited to take
coffee, while murmurs of "_Esta casa e a suas ordenes_"--This house
is at your disposal--followed our departure. Unlike many conventional
phrases of politeness, I do not know that the sentiment was entirely
exaggerated, It is typical of the Brazilian and is to be reckoned
with his other good qualities. They always combine a respect for
those things that are foreign, with their decided patriotism. The
hospitality the stranger receives at their hands is nothing short of
marvellous, and no greater insult can be inflicted than to offer to
pay for accommodations. I find any retrospective glance over the days
I spent among these people coloured with much pleasure when I review
incidents connected with my contact with them. There is a word in the
Portuguese language which holds a world of meaning for anyone who has
been in that land so richly bestowed with the blessings of Nature,
Brazil. It is _saudades_, a word that arouses only the sweetest and
tenderest of memories.
There were seven more days of travel before we reached the headquarters
of Floresta, the largest rubber-estate in the Javary region. It covers
an area somewhat larger than Long Island. Coronel da Silva, the owner,
lives in what would be called an unpretentious house in any other
place but the Amazon. Here it represents the highest achievement of
architecture and modern comfort. It is built on sixteen-foot poles and
stands on the outskirts of a half-cleared space which contains also six
smaller buildings scattered around. The house had seven medium-sized
rooms, equipped with modern furniture of an inexpensive grade. There
was also an office which, considering that it was located about
2900 miles from civilisation, could be almost called up-to-date. I
remember, for instance, that a clock from New Haven had found its
way here. In charge of the office was a secretary, a Mr. da Marinha,
who was a man of considerable education and who had graduated in
the Federal capital. Several years of health-racking existence in
the swamps had made him a nervous and indolent man, upon whose face
a smile was never seen. The launch stopped here twenty-four hours,
unloading several tons of merchandise, to replenish the store-house
close to the river front. I took advantage of the wait to converse
with Coronel da Silva. He invited me cordially to stop at his house
and spend the summer watching the rubber-work and hunting the game
that these forests contained. It was finally proposed that I go with
the launch up to the Branco River, only two days' journey distant, and
that on its return I should disembark and stay as long as I wished. To
this I gladly assented. We departed in the evening bound for the Branco
River. On this trip I had my first attack of fever. I had no warning
of the approaching danger until a chill suddenly came over me on the
first day out from Floresta. I had felt a peculiar drowsiness for
several days, but had paid little attention to it as one generally
feels drowsy and tired in the oppressive heat and humidity. When to
this was added a second chill that shook me from head to foot with such
violence that I thought my last hour had come, I knew I was in for my
first experience of the dreaded Javary fever. There was nothing to do
but to take copious doses of quinine and keep still in my hammock close
to the rail of the boat. The fever soon got strong hold of me and I
alternated between shivering with cold and burning with a temperature
that reached 104 and 105 degrees. Towards midnight it abated somewhat,
but left me so nearly exhausted that I was hardly able to raise my
head to see where we were going. Our boat kept close to the bank so
as to get all possible advantage of the eddying currents.
I was at length aroused from a feverish slumber by being flung suddenly
to the deck of the launch with a violent shock, while men and women
shouted in excitement that the craft would surely turn over. We
were careened at a dangerous angle when I awoke and in my reduced
condition it was not difficult to imagine that a capsize was to be the
result. But with a ripping, rending sound the launch suddenly righted
itself. It developed that we had had a more serious encounter with
a protruding branch than in any of the previous collisions. This one
had caught on the very upright to which my hammock was secured. The
stanchion in this case was iron and its failure to give way had caused
the boat to tilt. Finally the iron bent to an S shape and the branch
slipped off after tearing the post from its upper fastenings. It
was a narrow escape from a calamity, but the additional excitement
aggravated my fever and I went from bad to worse. Therefore it was
found advisable, when we arrived, late the next day, at the mouth of
the Branco, to put me ashore to stay in the hut of the manager of the
rubber estate, so that I might not cause the crew and the passengers
of the launch inconvenience through my sickness and perhaps ultimate
death. I was carried up to the hut and placed in a hammock where
I was given a heavy dose of quinine. I dimly remember hearing the
farewell-toot of the launch as she left for the down-river trip, and
there I was alone in a strange place among people of whose language
I understood very little. In the afternoon a young boy was placed in
a hammock next to mine, and soon after they brought in a big, heavy
Brazilian negro, whom they put on the other side. Like me they were
suffering from Javary fever and kept moaning all through the afternoon
in their pain, but all three of us were too sick to pay any attention
to each other. That night my fever abated a trifle and I could hear
the big fellow raving in delirium about snakes and lizards, which
he imagined he saw. When the sun rose at six the next morning he was
dead. The boy expired during the afternoon.
It was torture to lie under the mosquito-net with the fever pulsing
through my veins and keeping my blood at a high temperature, but I
dared not venture out, even if I had possessed the strength to do so,
for fear of the mosquitoes and the sand-flies which buzzed outside in
legions. For several days I remained thus and then began to mend a
little. Whether it was because of the greater vitality of the white
race or because I had not absorbed a fatal dose, I do not know,
but I improved. When I felt well enough, I got up and arranged with
the rubber-estate manager to give me two Indians to paddle me and my
baggage down to Floresta. I wanted to get down there where I could
have better accommodations before I should become sick again.