We are overlooking from this height the birthplaces of several rivers;
and the rivers of Pelée are the clearest and the coolest of the island.
From whatever direction the trip be undertaken, the ascent of the
volcano must be made over some one of those many immense ridges sloping
from the summit to the sea west, north, and east,--like buttresses eight
to ten miles long,--formed by ancient lava-torrents. Down the deep
gorges between them the cloud-fed rivers run,--receiving as they descend
the waters of countless smaller streams gushing from either side of the
ridge. There are also cold springs,--one of which furnishes St. Pierre
with her _Eau-de-Gouyave_ (guava-water), which is always sweet, clear,
and cool in the very hottest weather. But the water of almost every one
of the seventy-five principal rivers of Martinique is cool and clear and
sweet. And these rivers are curious in their way. Their average fall has
been estimated at nine inches to every six feet;--many are
cataracts;--the Rivière de Case-Navire has a fall of nearly 150 feet to
every fifty yards of its upper course. Naturally these streams cut for
themselves channels of immense depth. Where they flow through forests
and between monies, their banks vary from 1200 to 1600 feet high,--so as
to render their beds inaccessible; and many enter the sea through a
channel of rock with perpendicular walls from 150 to 200 feet high.
Their waters are necessarily shallow in normal weather; but during
rainstorms they become torrents thunderous and terrific beyond
description. In order to comprehend their sudden swelling, one must know
what tropical rain is. Col. Boyer Peyreleau, in 1823, estimated the
annual rainfall in these colonies at 150 inches on the coast, to 350 on
the mountains,--while the annual fall at Paris was only eighteen inches.
The character of such rain is totally different from that of rain in the
temperate zone: the drops are enormous, heavy like hailstones,--one will
spatter over the circumference of a saucer!--and the shower roars so
that people cannot hear each other speak without shouting. When there is
a true storm, no roofing seems able to shut out the cataract; the
best-built houses leak in all directions; and objects but a short
distance off become invisible behind the heavy curtain of water. The
ravages of such rain may be imagined! Roads are cut away in an hour;
trees are overthrown as if blown down;--for there are few West Indian
trees which plunge their roots even as low as two feet; they merely
extend them over a large diameter; and isolated trees will actually
slide under rain. The swelling of rivers is so sudden that washer-women
at work in the Roxelane and other streams have been swept away and
drowned without the least warning of their danger; the shower occurring
seven or eight miles off.
Most of these rivers are well stocked with fish, of which the _tétart,
banane, loche_, and _dormeur_ are the principal varieties. The tétart
(best of all) and the loche climb the torrents to the height of 2500 and
even 3000 feet: they have a kind of pneumatic sucker, which enables them
to cling to rocks. Under stones in the lower basins crawfish of the most
extraordinary size are taken; some will measure thirty-six inches from
claw to tail. And at all the river-mouths, during July and August, are
caught vast numbers of _titiri_[35],--tiny white fish, of which a
thousand might be put into one teacup. They are delicious when served in
oil,--infinitely more delicate than the sardine. Some regard them as a
particular species: others believe them to be only the fry of larger
fish,--as their periodical appearance and disappearance would seem to
indicate. They are often swept by millions into the city of St. Pierre,
with the flow of mountain-water which purifies the streets:
then you will see them swarming in the gutters, fountains, and
bathing-basins;--and on Saturdays, when the water is temporarily shut
off to allow of the pipes being cleansed, the titiri may die in the
gutters in such numbers as to make the air offensive.
The mountain-crab, celebrated for its periodical migrations, is also
found at considerable heights. Its numbers appear to have been
diminished extraordinarily by its consumption as an article of negro
diet; but in certain islands those armies of crabs described by the old
writers are still occasionally to be seen. The Père Du Tertre relates
that in 1640, at St. Christophe, thirty sick emigrants, temporarily left
on the beach, were attacked and devoured alive during the night by a
similar species of crab. "They descended from the mountains in such
multitude," he tells us, "that they were heaped higher than houses over
the bodies of the poor wretches... whose bones were picked so clean that
not one speck of flesh could be found upon them."...
[Footnote 35: The sheet-lightnings which play during the nights
of July and August are termed in creole _Zéclai-tiriri_, or
"titiri-lightnings";--it is believed these give notice that the titiri
have begun to swarm in the rivers. Among the colored population there
exists an idea of some queer relation between the lightning and the
birth of the little fish;--it is commonly said, "Zéclai-à ka fai yo
écloré" (the lightning hatches them).]