At length the _Inca_ was at anchor off the city of Guayaquil. I had a
faint recollection of its appearance, with Chimborazo's snow-capped dome
towering up in the distance. Ellen, who had forgotten all about being
there, was delighted with the scenery. Guayaquil is situated at the
mouth of the river Guayas--the largest on the Pacific coast. On going
on shore, however, we were somewhat disappointed, as the buildings,
though grand at a distance, have a tumbledown appearance, partly owing
to the earthquakes to which they are subjected, and partly to the
carelessness of the inhabitants in repairing them. We had great hopes
of meeting our father, but his correspondents in the city had not heard
from him for some time. The country, we found, was in a very unsettled
state, owing to which, probably, he had not come down from Quito. We
bade farewell to our kind captain and the crew of the _Inca_.
Some time before, Peru, Chili, and the other Spanish provinces of South
America had thrown off their allegiance to the mother country, forming
themselves into republics. Their government, however, especially in the
northern provinces, had been as yet far from well established.
Disturbances were continually occurring, preventing the progress of the
country. First one party took up arms to overthrow another in
authority, and in a short time those who had been superseded played the
same trick to those who had stepped into their places.
We lost no time in making preparations for our journey, the first part
of which was to be performed on board a boat,--seventy miles up the
river to Bodegas. We were there to engage mules to proceed over the
mountains to Quito, of the difficulties of which journey I had some
slight recollection.
We spent two days at Guayaquil. Had we not been anxious about our
father and the rest of our family, we should have been well amused.
From the balcony of our house we had a magnificent view of the towering
range of the Andes seen from the east of us, and extending like a mighty
wall north and south. Far away on the left, and fully a hundred miles
off, appeared the mighty Chimborazo, whose snow-capped summit, rising
far above its fellows, formed a superb background to the range of lesser
mountains and grand forests which cover the intermediate space. I have
before mentioned the delicious fruits that may be found in abundance in
the city; and I described the curious balsas, on board of which the
natives navigate the coasts and rivers. We all supplied ourselves with
straw hats, such as are shipped in great numbers from this place under
the name of Panama hats. They are made from the leaves of an
arborescent plant about five feet high, resembling the palm called
_toquilla_. The leaf grows on a three-cornered stalk, and is about a
yard long. It is slit into shreds, and after being immersed in boiling
water is bleached in the sun. The plaiting is very fine, and the hat is
so flexible that it can be turned inside out, or rolled up and put into
the pocket. It is impenetrable to rain and very durable. The chief
export from the place are chinchona, tobacco, orchilla weed, hides,
cotton, coffee, and cacao.
Our friends, we found, were anxious about the difficulties we might
encounter on our journey, on account of the disturbed state of the
country. They advised us, indeed, to postpone our departure till our
father's arrival, or till we should hear from him. The thought,
however, that he and our mother and sister might be exposed to danger
made us the more desirous of proceeding; and at length our friends--
against their better judgment, they assured us--concluded the
arrangements for our journey. We were seated taking coffee the evening
before we were to start, with the magnificent scene I have described
before us, when a stranger was ushered into the room. He wore over his
shoulders a gay-coloured poncho, and held a broad-brimmed hat in his
hand. His breeches were of dark cloth, open at the knee, and he had on
embroidered gaiters, and huge spurs, with rowels the size of a
crown-piece. His jet-black hair, which hung over his shoulders, his
reddish-olive complexion, dark eyes, and somewhat broad face, though his
features were in other respects regular and handsome, told us at once
that he was a native Peruvian. Our friends saluted him as Don Jose. He
addressed us in a kind tone, and told us that, having heard we were
about to proceed to Quito, as he was also going in that direction, and
might be of service, he should be happy to accompany us. Our friends at
once replied that we would thankfully accept his offer, and all
arrangements were quickly made. We were glad to obtain so intelligent a
companion. His kind and gentle manner at once gained our confidence,
and though his dress and appearance were those of ordinary Indians of
the upper class, he looked like one accustomed to receive the respect of
his fellow-men. That he was no common person we were sure. Why he took
the interest in us which he evinced we could not tell. John and I
talked the matter over, and at length, recollecting that our father's
mother was of Indian descent, we came to the conclusion that besides
being a friend of our father, he was connected by the ties of blood with
our family. Still, from the way our friend spoke, there appeared to be
some mystery about him; but they did not offer to enlighten us, nor
could we with propriety ask them, he also was evidently not inclined to
be communicative about himself.
Next morning at daylight we went on board our boat. In the centre was
an awning, or _toldo_, which served as a cabin. The crew, consisting of
eight native Indians, urged her on with long broad-bladed oars when the
wind was contrary, while their chief or captain stood astern and steered
with another. When the wind was favourable a large sail was hoisted,
and we glided rapidly up the river. The banks are beautifully green,
and covered with an exuberant growth of many varieties of trees; indeed,
the plains on either side vie in richness of vegetation with any other
spot between the tropics. Several times we cut off bends of the river
by narrow canals, the branches of the trees, interwoven by numberless
creepers, which hung down in festoons covered with brilliant blossoms,
forming a dense canopy over our heads. Although the stream is sluggish,
we were unable to reach Bodegas that night. We stopped therefore at the
house of a gentleman engaged in the cultivation of cacao. The tree on
which it grows somewhat resembles a lilac in size and shape. The fruit
is yellowish-red, and oblong in shape, and the seeds are enveloped in a
mass of white pulp. It is from the seeds that chocolate is prepared.
The flowers and fruits grow directly out of the trunk and branches.
Cacao--or, as we call it, cocoa--was used by the Mexicans before the
arrival of the Spaniards. It was called by them _chocolatt_, from
whence we derive the name of the compound of which it is the chief
ingredient--chocolate. So highly was it esteemed, that Linnaeus thought
it worthy of the name of _theobroma_--"food for gods." The tree is
raised from seed, and seldom rises higher than from twenty to thirty
feet; the leaves are large, oblong, and pointed. It is an evergreen,
and bears fruits and blossoms all the year round. The fruits are
pointed oval pods, six inches long, and contain in five compartments
from twenty-five to thirty seeds or kernels, enveloped in a white pithy
pulp with a sweet taste. These seeds when dried form the cocoa of
commerce, from which the beverage is made and chocolate is manufactured.
There are three harvests in the year, when the pods are pulled from the
trees and gathered into baskets. They are then thrown into pits and
covered with sand, where they remain three or four days to get rid of,
by fermentation, a strong bitter flavour they possess. They are then
carefully cleaned and dried in large flat trays in the sun. After this
they are packed in sacks for the market. Our friend in the morning
showed us some blossoms which had burst forth from the roots during the
night, which happened to be somewhat damp and warm--an example of the
expansive powers of vegetable life in that region. An oil is extracted
from another species of cacao, the nut of which is small and white. It
is called cacao-butter, and is used by the natives for burns and sores
and cutaneous diseases. A large quantity of cacao for the manufacture
of chocolate is exported to Spain. Among the trees were numbers of the
broad-leaved plantain and banana, which had been planted to protect the
young cacao trees from the heat of the sun. The fruit of the banana,
one of the most useful productions of the Tropics, is eaten raw,
roasted, boiled, and fried. It grows in large bunches, weighing from
sixty to seventy pounds each.
Continuing our voyage the next day, we passed amid groves of oranges and
lemons, whose rich perfume was wafted across the water to us. Here also
the mango, bearing a golden fruit, spread around its splendid foliage;
while, above all, the beautiful cocoanut palm lifted its superb head.
Now and then we saw monkeys gambolling among the trees, as well as many
birds of brilliant plumage. Among others, a beautiful bird got up from
a bed of reeds we were passing, spreading wide its wings and broad tail
directly before us. John shot it, and the small canoe we sent to pick
it up. It was about the size of a partridge, with a crane-like bill, a
slender neck, and shorter legs than ordinary waders, though a wader it
was. The plumage was shaded curiously in bands and lines with brown,
fawn-colour, red, grey, and black, which Ellen said reminded her of a
superb moth she had seen. It was the caurale, or sun-bird (_Scolopax
Helios_), our books told us, found also in Demerara. Less attractive in
appearance were the gallinazos, or vultures, the scavengers of those
regions; while frequently on the mud banks we caught sight of alligators
basking in the hot sun, often fast asleep, with their mouths wide open.
We reached Bodegas early in the day. It is a large village, built on a
flat. In the rainy season it is so completely flooded that the people
have to take refuge in the upper stories of their houses. Thanks to our
friend Don Jose, and the exertions of his chief attendant, Isoro, mules
were quickly procured; and as the attractions of Bodegas were not great,
we immediately set off towards the mountains. John called Isoro Don
Jose's henchman. He was, like his master, of pure Indian blood, but of
not so high a type. Still, he was good-looking, active, and
intelligent. His dress differed only from that of Don Jose in being of
coarser materials. We were at once struck with the respect and devotion
with which Isoro treated his master, and with the confidence Don Jose
evidently reposed in him. We had a journey before us of two hundred
miles, which would occupy eight or ten days. The first village we
passed through was built high up off the ground on stilts, for in the
rainy season the whole country is completely flooded. After passing the
green plain, we entered a dense forest. Road, I should say, there was
none. Nothing, it seemed to me, could surpass the rich luxuriance of
the vegetation. On either side were numerous species of palms, their
light and feathery foliage rising among the other trees; bananas, with
their long, glossy, green leaves; and here and there groves of the
slender and graceful bamboo, shooting upwards for many feet straight as
arrows, their light leaves curling over towards their summits; while
orchids of various sorts, many bearing rich-coloured flowers, entwined
themselves like snakes round the trunks and branches. Don Jose told us
that in the rainy season this road is flooded, and that then the canoe
takes the place of mules.
We put up the first night at a _tambo_, or road-side inn, a bamboo hut
of two stories, thatched with plantain leaves. As the lower part was
occupied by four-footed animals, we had to climb into the upper story by
means of a couple of stout bamboos with notches cut in them. We here
hung up our hammocks, and screened off a part for Ellen and Maria. Next
day we began to ascend the mountains by the most rugged of paths.
Sometimes we had to wind up the precipice on a narrow ledge, scarcely
affording footing to the mules. It was trying to the nerves, for while
on one side rose a perpendicular wall of rock, on the other the
precipice went sheer down for several hundred feet, with a roaring
torrent at the bottom. Wild rocks were before and above us, trees and
shrubs, however, growing out of every crevice and on each spot where
soil could rest, while behind spread out a wide extent of forest, amid
which we could distinguish the river winding its way to the Pacific.
Few birds or beasts were to be seen--the monkeys and parrots we had left
below us; gallinazos, or black vultures, were, however, still met with,
as they are everywhere throughout the continent, performing their
graceful evolutions in the air, wheeling round and round without closing
their wings, in large flocks, above the watery region we had left. The
black vulture (_Cathartes atratus_), which closely resembles the
well-known turkey buzzard in habits and appearance, performs, like it,
the duty of scavenger, and is protected therefore by the inhabitants of
all parts of the country. It may be distinguished from the latter by
the form of the feathers on the neck, which descend from the back of the
head towards the throat in a sloping direction; whereas the turkey
buzzard has a frill of them completely round the throat. The head and
part of the neck of the black vulture are destitute of feathers, and are
covered with a black wrinkled skin, on which a few hairs only grow.
"See, what grand fellows are these!" exclaimed Arthur. I gazed up. On
a rock close above us stood a couple of large birds, which were
unmistakably vultures.
"Dreadful-looking creatures," cried Ellen. "They make me shudder. They
seem as if preparing to pounce down on some little innocent lambs to
carry them off."
"It would prefer a dead mule, I suspect," observed John. "Like other
vultures, it is not nice as to the nature of its food. It is called the
King of the Vultures (_Sarcoramphus papa_), properly so, for it is the
strongest and bravest of the vulture tribe though inferior in size to
the condor. Observe its head and neck, brilliantly coloured with
scarlet and yellow to make amends for the want of feathers. On the
crown of its head, too, is a rich scarlet patch. Close to the eye there
is a silvery blue mark, and above it part of the skin is blue and part
scarlet. The bill is orange and black, and those curious lumps or
carbuncles on its forehead are rich orange. At the lower part of the
neck it wears a black ruff. The wing feathers and tail are black, and
the lower part of the body white, and the rest a fine grey satin
colour."
While John was speaking, the birds, spreading out their huge wings,
glided off the rock, and then by an imperceptible movement of them
soared upwards, and, hovering for a few seconds in the air, they darted
downwards into the plain, and were lost to sight.
"You need not be afraid of their attacking any living creature, Senora
Ellen," observed Don Jose. "They have no relish for meat till it has
gained a higher flavour than we should like, and dead lizards and snakes
are much to their taste. Even those they discover, I believe, rather by
sight than by scent."
We had been proceeding along a somewhat broader part of the road than
usual, though, as it was very steep, we climbed but slowly. Now
rounding a sharp point, we came to a spot which made me wonder if those
ahead could possibly have got by; and I could not help gazing anxiously
downwards, almost expecting to find that some one had fallen over the
precipice. Ellen kept up her courage admirably, and never hesitated to
follow where others led. I could not help asking once if she did not
feel afraid. "No," she answered. "I always look upwards when I come to
a difficult place, and so pass without alarm." Ellen's plan is the
right one, metaphorically speaking, to adopt in all the difficulties and
trials of life: look upwards, and we shall be carried safely through
them. On we went till we found ourselves among a chaos of mountains,
separated by ravines so deep that the eye could scarcely distinguish the
rapid streams which found their way below. On one side rose into the
clear blue sky the majestic summit of Chimborazo, while other peaked and
round-topped mountains reared their heads proudly around. At length the
summit of the sierra was reached, and our mules commenced a descent into
the valley, drawing their legs together and sliding down with fearful
velocity. I had bean anxious before, I was doubly so now; but the
animals with wonderful sagacity kept the centre of the path, and in time
I lost all sensation of fear, and could admire the beautiful scenery.
The tambos, or road-side inns, we stopped at were mostly huts of the
rudest kind, with mud walls and floors, kept by Indians, and dirty in
the extreme. The entertainment provided for us was boiled chicken and
potato-soup, called in the mountains _locro_. Wooden spoons were served
to enable us to ladle up the soup, but our fingers had to be used for
the chicken, instead of knives and forks.
We seldom had an opportunity while on mule-back of exchanging thoughts
except at the top of our voices, as in most places we were compelled to
travel in Indian file, one following the other. We were once more
ascending the steep side of the mountain, when, on rounding a point, we
saw coming towards us a single traveller. As he caught sight of us he
stopped his mule, and made signs for us to come on toward the spot where
the greater width of the road would allow us to pass him. As we got up
to him I saw that he was a negro, dressed in the usual poncho and
broad-brimmed hat of the traveller in the Andes. Don Jose, John, and
Arthur had ridden by, when the stranger's eye fell on Maria.
"It must be, after all!" I heard him exclaim in Spanish. "Maria! yes,
it is you! Si, _si_, and I rejoice greatly."
"And you are Domingos; I am sure you are," exclaimed Maria.
"Yes, that is true," answered the old man. "I have come expressly to
find you. I have brought bad news; but it might be worse, so be not
alarmed."
"What is it?" I asked eagerly. "Are my father, or mother, or sister
ill?"
"No; they are all well," said Domingos; "but sad events have occurred at
Quito. There has been a great disturbance--a revolution--no new thing
unhappily; and your father's house has been burned down, and they have
had to fly, and try to escape from the country. They are safe by this
time, I hope. I came on to conduct you to them. I have been riding
fast to try and meet you to prevent you taking the direct road to Quito.
A body of troops are marching along the road, and if you were to fall
into their hands you would be ill-treated. We will descend some
distance by the way you have come, and take shelter in yonder forest
which clothes the side of the mountain. We shall be safe there, and I
doubt not obtain shelter in one of the huts of the chinchona gatherers."
Domingos had given me this account in a few hurried words. I instantly
called to the rest of our party who were ahead, and we were all soon
collected in a nook in the side of the mountain, where we held a
consultation as to what should be done. We quickly agreed to follow the
advice of Domingos. Don Jose was greatly agitated at hearing what had
occurred.
"They would treat me with but scant ceremony, were I to fall into their
hands," he observed; "and I am afraid that you would suffer also were I
to be found in your company. However, we may easily escape in the
forest should any search be made for us, and therefore let us lose no
time in seeking its shelter."
While he was speaking, I caught sight of some figures high up the
mountain, at a point round which the path wound its way. I pointed them
out to Domingos.
"They are the soldiers," he exclaimed; "I see the glitter of their arms!
We have no time to lose. Move on, my friends, move on! If we were
overtaken it would fare hard with us."
Don Jose, who had also been looking towards the point, made us a sign to
follow, and rapidly led the way down the side of the mountain, our
native muleteers being evidently as anxious to avoid the soldiers as we
were. The Indians had, it appeared, taken an active part in the
insurrection which had just broken out, and our guides knew, therefore,
that, should they be caught, the party in power would very likely wreak
their vengeance on their heads.
We descended for a considerable distance along the path by which we had
come. Occasionally looking back, I caught sight of the troops as they
wound their way in a thin column down the mountain. We, however,
appeared to be keeping well ahead of them; and I hoped that our small
party might have escaped observation. At length Don Jose stopped, and
getting off his mule, surveyed the side of the hill which sloped away
below us. Coming back, he took the bridle of his mule, and made it leap
off the path on one side on to what appeared a mere ledge of rock.
"Come on," he shouted; "I will show you the way; but you must all
dismount and follow the mules on foot." We accordingly got off our
animals, which were made to leap down to the ledge below us, and
willingly followed the first mule, which Don Jose was leading. John and
I took charge of Ellen, while Domingos helped Maria along. The path was
very narrow and steep, but where the mules had gone we had little doubt
that we could follow. In a short time we found ourselves descending by
a zig-zag path among trees which grew out of the side of the mountain,
here and there huge blocks of rock projecting among them. Thus we went
on for a considerable distance. Once when we stopped I looked upwards,
and caught sight of the head of the column of troops just as they were
reaching the very place we had left. At length we reached the bottom of
the valley, through which a stream went foaming and roaring downwards
over a rocky bed. The mountains rose up on either side, completely
surrounding us. "This stream will be a safe guide," observed Don Jose;
"and if we proceed along its banks, we shall reach a spot where we can
remain concealed even should a whole regiment come in search of us." We
proceeded on foot some distance, the active mules leaping from rock to
rock, while we scrambled on after them. Sometimes we could with
difficulty get round the rugged points at the foot of which the stream
forced its way, while the cliffs towered up high above our heads. Here
and there we caught sight of the snowy pinnacles of the mountains rising
towards the sky. At length we emerged into a more open valley, and were
once more able to mount our mules. We now entered the forest. Don Jose
led the way by a path which was scarcely perceptible. I observed here
and there notches on the barks of the trees, which I concluded served to
guide him. Through an opening in the trees I saw the sun setting
towards the valley below us; and had I not possessed great confidence in
our conductor, I should have been afraid that we were about to be
benighted. Directly afterwards we entered a thicker part of the forest.
Often it was with difficulty we could see our way amid the dense
foliage. Don Jose, however, did not hesitate. After proceeding for
some distance, the sound of a woodman's axe reached our ears, and we saw
through an opening ahead several persons engaged cutting away at the
vines which had prevented the tall tree they had just hewn down from
reaching the ground. A little way beyond was a hut, and in its
neighbourhood several persons were at work. "These are my friends,"
said Don Jose, "and they will willingly afford us shelter for the night,
and protect us to the best of their power."
While he was speaking, the man who appeared to be the director of the
party came forward and greeted him. A short conversation ensued.
"We will remain here for to-night," said Don Jose, "but it may be more
prudent to proceed further into the depths of the forest to-morrow. It
is possible that our enemies may discover the road we have taken and
come here to search for us, and, besides the risk we ourselves should
run, we should bring trouble on our friends."
Riding up to the hut, our mules were unloaded, and our hammocks and the
packages were taken inside. It was a large shed, far better built than
many of the tambos we had stopped at, with thick walls and roof to
protect the bark from the effects of the weather. It was already about
half full of bundles of this valuable commodity. Each bundle was
tightly done up, and weighed as much as a man could carry up the steep
mountain's side.
We as usual set to work to form a separate chamber for Ellen and her
attendant: this we did with bundles of the bark, leaving a door and
window for ventilation. Ellen thanked us for our trouble, saying that
she had not had so comfortable a room since the commencement of our
journey. John, Arthur, and I slung our hammocks in the building, while
the rest of the party were accommodated in the huts of the
bark-gatherers. A rough table was soon formed within the large shed,
and benches were brought in, and a substantial repast made ready. The
chief dishes were the usual potato-soup and some roast meat. We could
not at first make out whether it was venison or mutton, but found on
inquiry that it was the flesh of a vicuna, which had been shot by the
sportsman of the party in the morning. It is an animal resembling the
llama, the well-known beast of burden of the ancient Peruvians. Don
Jose and his friend sat down to table with us, and Domingos waited.
"But of what use is this bark!" asked Ellen, looking up at the huge
bundles piled up on either side. "Is it for tanning?"
"Oh no," answered John. "This is the celebrated Peruvian bark, to which
the name of chinchona has been given. It was bestowed on it in
consequence of the wife of the Viceroy of Peru, the Countess of
Chinchona, having been cured of a tertian ague in the year 1638. The
count and his wife, on returning to Spain, took with them a quantity of
the healing bark; and they were thus the first persons to introduce this
valuable medicine into Europe, where it was for some time known as the
countess's bark or powder, and was named by the celebrated naturalist
Linnaeus chinchona, in memory of the great service the countess had
rendered to the human race. The Jesuits were great promoters also of
the introduction of the bark into Europe. Some Jesuit missionaries in
1670 sent parcels of the powder or bark to Rome, whence it was
distributed throughout Europe by the Cardinal de Lugo, and used for the
cure of agues with great success. Hence, also, it was often called
Jesuit's bark, and cardinal's bark."
"Yes, I have heard of that," observed Don Jose, laughing; "and I am told
that for some time it was in consequence opposed by the Protestants, and
especially favoured by the Roman Catholics."
"Yes," said John, "I believe that for a very long time a very strong
prejudice existed against it; and even physicians opposed its use,
considering it at best a dangerous medicine. It is now, however,
acknowledged to be a sovereign remedy for ague of all descriptions. I
believe the French astronomer De la Condamine, who went to Quito in the
year 1735 to measure an arc of a degree, and thus to determine the shape
of the earth, was the first person who sent home a full account of the
tree."
"We call it quinquina," (bark of barks), observed Don Jose. "Some of
its virtues, if not all, were known to the Peruvians long before they
were discovered by Europeans."
"Ah! that is the reason it is called quinine by the English," observed
John. "I did not before know the derivation of the word."
"Since its use became general in Europe, the export trade of the
quinquina has been very considerable," observed Don Jose. "Forests
containing groves of these trees are found in various regions throughout
the northern parts of the Cordilleras. My friend here has been engaged
since his boyhood in collecting the bark, as was his father before him.
When searching for new districts, it is the custom for the
cascarilleros, or bark-collectors, to set forth in parties of a dozen or
more men, with supplies of food and tools. They make their way into the
unknown forest, where they suppose, from its elevation above the sea and
its general appearance, that the chinchona trees will be found. They
are always accompanied by an experienced searcher, called the
_cateador_. He climbs the highest tree in the neighbourhood, and
searches about till he discovers the _manchas_, or clumps, of the
chinchona trees by their dark colour, and the peculiar reflection of the
light from their leaves, which can be distinguished even in the midst of
a wide expanse of forest. He then, descending, conducts the party
through the tangled brushwood, often for hours together, marking his way
with his wood-knife, till he reaches the clump. Here they build rough
huts, such as you see around us, and commence their work. The first
operation is to cut down a tree, when the bark is carefully stripped
off, and kept as free as possible from dirt or moisture, as it easily
becomes mouldy, and loses its colour. It is important to cut the tree
as close down to the ground as possible, in order that fresh shoots may
grow up. There are various species of the quinquina. One is known by
the name of grey bark, another as the red bark, which is considered the
most valuable. The bark which you see around you is of the latter
species; and the men employed in collecting can each make from one to
two dollars a day. In the more distant forests, however, they have to
undergo great danger in the work. Sometimes they have been known to
lose themselves in the forest and having exhausted their provisions,
have died of hunger. They are compelled also to carry the load of bark
on their own backs, and occasionally a man breaks down under the weight
and can proceed no further, when, if he is separated from his
companions, he has little hope of escaping with life. There are,
besides the species I have mentioned, a vast number of chinchona, though
the bark of some yields little or none of the valuable drug."
As soon as supper was over we retired to our hammocks, that we might be
prepared to set out at an early hour to a more secure spot in the
forest. John and I lay awake for some time, talking over our prospects.
Of course we were very anxious about what might happen to our family;
for though Domingos had evidently not wished to alarm us, we saw that he
was uneasy about them. We also could not shut our eyes to the
difficulties and dangers we should have to undergo; not that we cared
much about them on our own account, but on Ellen's. Though she was a
brave girl, we were afraid that she might suffer from the hardships she
might have to endure in travelling over that mountain region. What our
father had done to draw upon himself the hostility of the Government
party we could not tell. He had, however, always shown an interest in
the natives, and by his just and kind treatment of them had won their
regard. We concluded, therefore, that he was in some way supposed to be
implicated in the outbreak which had lately taken place. At length we
dropped off to sleep.
The rest of the night passed quietly away. I awoke as the grey dawn was
stealing into the hut, and at once turned out of my hammock. I stood
contemplating the wild scene for some minutes, admiring the size and
variety of the trees which rose up in the forest before me. Some had
enormous buttress trunks, which sent down rope-like tendrils from their
branches in every direction. There was the gigantic balsam-tree, the
india-rubber-tree, and many others. Among them were numerous palms--one
towering above the rest with its roots shooting out in every direction
from eight feet above the ground, and another slender and beautiful; but
the most remarkable of all was the _sayal_--so Don Jose called it--the
monarch of the palms of these forests. It had rather a short, thick
stem, the inner fibres of its stalk being like black wool; but its
remarkable feature was its enormous leaves, which grew erect from the
stem for forty feet in length. They must be the largest leaves, John
and I agreed, in the whole vegetable kingdom. There were many bright
and scarlet flowers, and numberless beautiful orchids hanging from the
branches of the trees. Beyond the forest rose rugged cliffs, dark black
rocks with lofty ranges of mountains towering above them. I was soon
joined by my companions, and in a little time Ellen and Maria came
forth. As it was almost dark when we reached the spot, we had formed no
idea of the wonderful scenery surrounding us Domingos did not appear,
and John inquired of Don Jose what had become of him.
"He has gone to ascertain in what direction the troops have marched," he
answered. "We shall have to take our road accordingly. Besides the
high road, there is another by which I can lead you, but it is still
more steep and difficult yet, as we shall thus avoid the risk of meeting
with enemies, it may be the safest for us."
A couple of hours passed away, during which we breakfasted on some
delicious chocolate prepared by our host. Still Domingos had not
returned. The mules, however, were got ready, that we might start,
should it be necessary, immediately he appeared.
"I trust the honest man has not been taken prisoner," observed Don Jose;
"it might fare ill with him. But I am sure he would endure any cruelty
rather than betray us; and if he does not soon appear we will proceed on
our journey, and my friend here will send a man to show him the road we
have taken."
An hour passed, and as Domingos did not return, we mounted our mules and
proceeded through the forest. Had we been on foot we might have
followed some paths which the bark-collectors had cut; but many of them
would only allow of a person proceeding in a stooping posture under the
numberless creepers which were interwoven amid the branches of the
trees. We had therefore to make a considerable circuit. At length we
came to a less frequented part of the forest, and here we were compelled
to use our knives and hatchets to clear away the art-work of creepers
which impeded our progress. We all dismounted, and led the mules
through the path we had thus formed. In several places we found, after
an hour's toil, that we had not progressed more than half a mile.
"We shall reach more open country by-and-by," said Don Jose, "so we need
not despair."
At length we came upon a small party of men engaged in stripping off the
bark from a tree which they had lately cut down. Don Jose spoke to
them. They saluted him with marks of respect, and one of them, throwing
his arm over his shoulder, led us through the forest to a small hut
concealed by the surrounding trees. Its interior was not very tempting,
but it would afford us shelter from the night air should we be detained
there. It was destitute of furniture, with the exception of several
hammocks hung up at one end, and a few pots and other cooking apparatus
in the corner. Our attendants, however, at once began to sweep it out,
while Ellen and Maria sat down on a log outside.
"The night is likely to be fine, and our friends will gladly give you up
their hut," said Don Jose.
"We will wait here till Domingos appears. I have made arrangements that
we should have ample notice should any enemies come in pursuit of us.
We are surrounded by friends, and I have no doubt we shall be able to
escape."
Don Jose had secured a fresh supply of food, so that in a short time an
ample meal was spread on the ground, round which we collected in picnic
fashion. We had just concluded it when we heard footsteps approaching.
As we looked out, Domingos appeared before us. His countenance
exhibited anxiety, and taking Don Jose aside, he conversed with him for
some minutes.
"We must proceed at early dawn by the road I have mentioned to you,"
said our friend, returning to us. "Domingos has had a narrow escape of
being made prisoner. He tells me that the soldiers are pursuing the
patriots and natives in every direction, and treating them with the
greatest cruelty, shooting and hanging them whenever they are found.
Although they would not venture probably to ill-treat you, you might be
subjected to great inconvenience, and certainly detained and prevented
from reaching your parents. However, I trust that we shall be able to
avoid them, and to reach the eastern slopes of the Andes without
interruption. Your father has ever proved my firmest friend, and I
rejoice therefore to have the opportunity of showing my gratitude by
being of service to his children. We shall be able to remain here
during the night, and will recommence our journey by dawn, so as to
reach the most difficult pass by mid-day, and I trust before evening to
have gained a place of safety."
"You will do well, my dear masters, to trust our friend thoroughly,"
said Domingos to John and me, while Don Jose was at a little distance.
"I know your father has a great regard for him, and whatever he promises
he can perform. You are indeed fortunate in meeting with him. He is a
cacique, whose fathers once had great power in the country; and though
deprived of his lands, he is still looked up to with respect by the
natives in all parts of the country."
"Then how comes he to be called Don Jose?" I asked.
"That is the name by which he is known to the whites, and it is the
safest by which to speak of him," answered Domingos. "I know not if I
ought to tell his real name; but you will be cautious, or he might be
displeased with me."
"Yes; do tell me," I said; "I am curious to know more about him."
Domingos looked around. The person we were speaking of was still out of
hearing.
"I will tell you, then," he replied. "His real name is Pumacagua. His
father, who headed the last attempt of the Indians to gain their liberty
before the revolution, when numerous tribes gathered to his standard,
was defeated, made prisoner, and shot. Young Jose, our friend, after
fighting bravely, escaped, and though sought for, was not discovered.
Your father had concealed him at great hazard, and afforded him shelter
till better times came round. He and I were the only persons in the
secret. Jose Pumacagua has, therefore, reason to be grateful to your
father, besides being connected with him by the ties of blood."
Just then Don Jose, as I will still call him, came up, and we were
unable to ask further questions of Domingos. Ellen was much interested
when we afterwards narrated to her what we had heard, and said that she
should try and get Don Jose to tell us his adventures, as she was sure
they must be very curious.
We were soon left quite alone; for the cascarilleros, having loaded
themselves with the result of their labour, took their way through the
forest. Our friend told us that they were carrying the bark to a
village out of the forest, where it would be free from damp, and be
exposed to the drying influence of the sun. When thoroughly dried it
would be conveyed to the town of Guaranda, and then sent down by mules
to Guayaquil. I should have mentioned that the chinchona trees
surrounding us were very beautiful and graceful. They had large, broad,
oval, deep green, shining leaves, with white and fragrant flowers, and
the bark was of a red colour. The trees varied in height from forty to
sixty feet. There were other trees in the neighbourhood which looked
very like them, but Don Jose showed us the difference. The nature of
the bark is known by its splintery, fibrous, or corky texture. The true
bark is of the former character.
Having cleaned out the hut, we made our usual arrangements for passing
the night. Don Jose and Domingos, I saw, were somewhat uneasy, and two
of the men were sent out as scouts to watch the path by which we had
reached the hut.
"It is well to take precautions against surprise," observed our friend.
"However, our enemies, if they do follow us, will not travel during the
night, so that we shall be able, by moving early, to have a good start
of them."
At length, two hours after sunset, the Indians returned, reporting that
they had seen no one. I was awaked by hearing Don Jose's voice--"Up,
friends, up! We will be on the road, and not breakfast till we reach a
spot where no foe is likely to follow us." He held a torch in his hand,
by the light of which we got ready to mount. The Indians had meantime
saddled the mules, which were brought round to the door of the hut.
"Follow my example," he said, producing from a bag which he carried
slung over his shoulder, under his poncho, some dried leaves. "This
will enable you to travel on for many hours without hunger, and assist
in preventing the damp air of the forest from having any ill effect."
Sitting down on the trunk of a felled tree, he placed the bag before
him, and put leaf after leaf into his mouth, till he had formed a small
ball. He then took out from the bag a little cake, which I have since
found was composed of carbonate of potash, prepared by burning the stalk
of the quinoa plant, and mixing the ashes with lime and water. The
cakes thus formed are called _llipta_. The coca-bag, which he called
his _chuspa_, was made of llama cloth, dyed red and blue in patterns,
with woollen tassels hanging from it. His attendants followed their
master's example, as did John, Arthur, and I. Domingos, however,
declined doing so, and speedily prepared some chocolate for Ellen,
Maria, and himself. A little time was thus occupied, and mounting, we
turned our mules' heads towards the east, just as the grey light of dawn
appeared above the mountain-tops, the stars still shining with a calm
light out of the deep blue sky above our heads, not glittering and
twinkling as in northern climes. We were thus initiated by our friend
in the use of the far-famed coca.
"How do you like it?" he asked.
"I find the smell of the leaf agreeable and aromatic, and now I am
chewing it, it appears to give out a grateful fragrance," I answered.
It caused, I found, a slight irritation, which somewhat excited the
saliva.
"Ah! you will be enabled to go on if you wish till noon without eating,
and then with a fresh supply continue on with active exercise till
nightfall," he observed. "It is with this wonderful leaf that the
running chasquis or messengers have from time immemorial been able to
take their long journeys over the mountains and deserts. It must not be
used to excess, or it might prove prejudicial to the health, yet in
moderation it is both soothing and invigorating. It will prevent any
difficulty of respiration also as you ascend the steep mountain-sides."
The coca-plant grows, I should say, at an elevation of about 6000 feet
above the level of the sea. It is a shrub from four to six feet high,
the branches straight and alternate, and the leaves, in form and size,
like tea-leaves. They are gathered three times a year. They are then
spread out in a drying-yard and carefully dried in the sun. The dried
leaf is called coca. They are afterwards packed in sacks made of banana
leaves. It is most important to keep them dry, as they otherwise
quickly spoil.
Daylight at length enabled us to see our way along one of the wildest
and most rugged paths on which I should think it is possible for animals
to proceed. Up, up we went, with a roaring torrent on one side, and a
glorious view beyond of mountain above mountain, some snow-covered,
others running up into sharp peaks--others, again, considerably lower,
clothed even to their summits with graceful palms, whose feathery tops
stood out against the sky. Sometimes we had to cross narrow chasms on
the fallen stems of trees; now we arrived at a wide one, to be crossed
by means of a suspension bridge, which swung frightfully from side to
side. It made me giddy as I watched those who first passed along it.
It was composed of the tough fibres of the maguey, a sort of osier of
great tenacity and strength, woven into cables. Several of these cables
forming the roadway were stretched over buttresses of stone on either
side of the bank, and secured to stout timbers driven into the ground
beyond them. The roadway was covered with planks, and on either side
was a railing of the same sort of rope as the rest of the bridge. Light
as it appeared, the mules one by one were led over. We followed, not
venturing to look down into the foaming torrent, rushing impetuously
along a hundred feet or more below us. Soon after this a ladder of
rocks appeared in front of us. We were here compelled to dismount, Don
Jose and John helping up Ellen, Domingos assisting Maria, Arthur and I
scrambling up by ourselves while the Indians, waiting till we had
reached the summit, remained behind to drive on the mules. Every
instant I expected to see one of them roll over; but they climbed up
more like monkeys than quadrupeds, and at length joined us on a small
level spot at the summit.
"A dozen bold men might hold this pass against a thousand enemies,"
observed our friend. "Few but our people know it, though. We will
proceed yet higher, and cross the most elevated pass before we stop for
breakfast, if your sister can endure hunger so long."
"Oh yes, yes!" exclaimed Ellen. "I would not have you delay on my
account. The chocolate I took prevents me feeling any hunger, even
though this pure air is calculated to give an appetite."
On and on we went, at as rapid a rate as our mules could move, upwards
and upwards, the scenery if possible growing wilder and wilder at every
step. Huge masses of rock rose above our heads, with snow-topped
pinnacles peeping out at each break between them. We had gone on some
way further, when at a short distance on our left I saw perched on the
top of a rock a huge bird, its head bent forward as if about to pounce
down upon us. Presently we saw its wings expand. It was of great size,
with huge claws, a pointed, powerful beak, a neck destitute of feathers,
and a huge comb on its forehead. The feathers were of a glossy black
hue, with a white ruff at the base of the neck.
"Do you think he will attack us?" I said to Don Jose.
He laughed. "No; he is a coward! We can easily drive him off if he
make the attempt."
He shouted loudly. At that instant the condor, for such was the bird
near us, spreading out its huge wings, slowly glided into the air. At
first the weight of its body seemed to keep it down, but gradually it
rose, mounting higher and higher, until it appeared like a mere speck in
the blue sky.
"He has gone off to the distant ocean," observed our companion; "or to
seek for prey among the flocks on the plains below. He will not return
till evening, when probably we shall see him, or some of his brothers,
flying over our heads, and pitching on the lofty peaks amid which they
dwell."
The highest point of the pass was at length reached. We all felt a
difficulty in breathing, and even our hardy mules stood still and gasped
for breath. We let them proceed slowly, while we had time to admire the
magnificent spectacle which the mountain scenery afforded. Around us on
every side rose up lofty peaks and rugged heights, prominent among which
appeared the snow-capped, truncated peak of Cotopaxi, looking like a
vast sugar-loaf. The rocks, too--huge masses of porphyry--were broken
into all sorts of shapes, and were of every variety of colour, from dark
brown to the brightest lilac, green, purple, and red, and others of a
clear white, producing a very curious and beautiful effect, and at the
same time showing us to what violent throes and upheavings that region
has been subjected. Below our feet was spread out that gloomy plain
which has been so frequently devastated by the lava and ashes which the
mountain has cast forth.
Descending, we reached a sheltered spot, where grass was found for our
tired mules. Our saddle-bags were unpacked, the fires lighted, and in a
short time cups of boiling chocolate and a steaming stew, previously
cooked, were arranged for us on the grass.
While wandering a little way from our temporary camp, I saw some large
pale yellow flowers growing on a low shrub. Presently several small
beautiful birds appeared hovering above them, in no way daunted by my
presence. As they dipped their long bills into the flowers, I could
observe their plumage, and was convinced, though found at so great an
elevation, that they were humming-birds. After watching them for some
time, I called Ellen and Arthur to look at them.
"Ah, yes, they are worthy of admiration," exclaimed our Inca friend.
"The bird is the Chimborazian hill-star humming-bird. It is found
16,000 feet above the ocean, close to the region of snow, and seldom at
a less elevation than 12,000 feet."
The head and throat of the little creature which had excited our
admiration shone with the most brilliant tints, though the rest of the
body was of a more sombre hue. The upper parts of the body were of a
pale, dusky green, except the wings, which were of the purple-brown tint
common to humming-birds in general. The head and throat were of the
most resplendent hue, with an emerald green triangular patch on the
throat, while a broad collar of velvety black divided the brilliant
colours of the head from the sober ones of the body. The hen bird,
which was mostly of a sombre olive-green, was flying about under the
bushes, and almost escaped our notice.
Don Jose told us that a similar bird inhabits the sides of Pichincha,
with different marks on its neck, and that neither at any time visits
the other, each keeping to its own mountain, on which they find the
food, flowers, and insects best suited to their respective tastes. It
would have been barbarous to have shot the beautiful little birds; but
even had we wished it, it would have been difficult to do so. So rapid
was their flight, that it was only when they were hovering over a flower
that we could have taken aim. Ellen wanted to have one caught to keep
as a pet; but Don Jose assured her that it would not live in the low
region of the Amazon, but that we should there find many still more
beautiful species of the same family, some of which she might very
likely be able to tame. After watching the birds for some time, we
returned to the camp.
Domingos was the first to mount his mule, riding on ahead, that he might
ascertain if the road was clear, while he promised to return and give us
notice should any enemies appear, that we might have time to conceal
ourselves. This we hoped to be able to do among the wild rocks which
rose up in every direction. We rode on, however, without interruption
for the remainder of the day, and stopped towards evening at a small mud
hut, inhabited by a Quichua family, who willingly agreed with Don Jose
to conceal and protect us with their lives. In the morning we proceeded
in the same way as on the previous day. Thus for several days we
travelled on, resting during the night at rude tambos, the inhabitants
of which, directly Don Jose spoke to them, willingly undertook to give
us accommodation. The weather was fine, the air pure, bracing, and
exhilarating; and in spite of the fatigue we underwent, none of us
suffered. Ellen and Maria bore the journey wonderfully. Although we
were making our way towards the east, frequently we found ourselves
riding round a mountain with our backs to the rising sun. Now we were
ascending by the side of steep precipices, and now again descending into
deep ravines. At length Don Jose gave us the satisfactory intelligence
that we had left Quito behind us to the north-west, and that we might
hope to escape falling in with hostile forces. "Still," he said
privately to John and me, "I cannot promise that we are altogether safe.
We must use great caution, and avoid as much as possible the beaten
tracks. Parties may have been sent out to the east in search of
fugitives; but we will hope for the best."
As we were ascending a mountain-side, we saw before us, winding
downwards, a long line of animals. A couple of Indians walked at the
head of the troop, while several other men came at intervals among them.
Each animal carried a small pack on its back; and we soon knew them to
be llamas, as they advanced carrying their long necks upright, with
their large and brilliant eyes, their thick lips, and long and movable
ears. They were of a brown colour, with the under parts whitish.
As we approached, in spite of the efforts of their conductors, they
scattered away up and down the mountains, leaving the path open to us.
The Indians, however, made no complaint; but as we gained a height above
them, we saw them exerting themselves to re-collect their scattered
cavalcade. They were going, Don Jose told us, to the coast, to bring
back salt--an article without which human beings can but ill support
life in any part of the world.
We soon after found ourselves travelling on a wide, lofty plain, bounded
by still higher peaks. In several directions we saw herds of llamas, as
also a smaller animal of the same species--the alpaca. It somewhat
resembles the sheep, but its neck is longer, and its head more
gracefully formed. The wool appeared very long, soft, fine, and of a
silky lustre. Some of those we saw were quite white, others black, and
others again variegated. There were vast herds of them, tended by
Indians, as sheep are by their shepherds in other parts of the world.
The following day, descending from the plain and passing through a deep
valley, we caught sight of a herd of similar creatures, which Don Jose
told us were vicunas. Their shape appeared slighter and more elegant
than that of the alpaca, with a longer and more graceful neck. The
colour of the upper part of the body was a reddish yellow, while the
under side was of a light ochre. A peculiar shrill cry reached our ears
as we approached, and the whole herd turned, advancing a few paces, and
then suddenly wheeling round, off they went at a rapid rate. Don Jose
told us that they are hunted with the bolas, as cattle are in the
plains. There is another animal, the huanacu, which is larger than the
llama, but resembles it greatly. It is considered by some naturalists
to be a wild species of the llama. Huanacus live in small troops.
Their disposition is very different from that of the llama. Though
easily tamed when caught young, they can seldom be trained to carry
burdens.
John reminded me of an account he had read of the llama, which is
likened to the dromedary of the desert, the services it is called upon
to perform being similar. Though it has not the ugly hump of the
dromedary, it possesses the same callosities on the breast and knees;
its hoof is divided in the same manner, and is of the same formation.
Its internal construction, which enables it to go for a long time
without drinking, is also similar. It will carry about one hundred
pounds, and proceed at the rate of twelve or fourteen miles a day. When
overloaded, however, it lies down, and nothing will induce it to rise
till it has been relieved of part of its cargo.
Llamas were the only beasts of burden employed by the ancient Peruvians.
Mules and horses were introduced by the Spaniards, and have now in many
places superseded the llamas, as mules will carry a much greater weight,
and are far more enduring and patient animals.