The Indians told us that at San Fernando scarcely a year passes
without two or three grown-up persons, particularly women who fetch
water from the river, being drowned by the crocodiles. They related
to us the history of a young girl of Uritucu, who, by singular
intrepidity and presence of mind, saved herself from the jaws of a
crocodile. When she felt herself seized she sought the eyes of the
animal and plunged her fingers into them with such violence that the
pain forced the crocodile to let her go, after having bitten off the
lower part of her left arm. The girl, notwithstanding the enormous
quantity of blood she lost, reached the shore, swimming with the hand
that still remained to her. In those desert countries, where man is
ever wrestling with nature, discourse daily turns on the best means
that may be employed to escape from a tiger, a boa, or a crocodile;
every one prepares himself in some sort for the dangers that may
await him. “I knew,” said the young girl of Uritucu coolly, “that the
cayman lets go his hold if you push your fingers into his eyes.” Long
after my return to Europe I learned that in the interior of Africa
the negroes know and practise the same means of defence. Who does not
recollect, with lively interest, Isaac, the guide of the unfortunate
Mungo Park, who was seized twice by a crocodile, and twice escaped
from the jaws of the monster, having succeeded in thrusting his
fingers into the creature’s eyes while under water.