THE TOCANTINS AND CAMETÁ
Preparations for the journey — The Bay of Goajará — Grove of fan-leaved
Palms — The lower Tocantins — Sketch of the River — Vista alegre —
Baiao — Rapids — Boat journey to the Guariba Falls — Native Life on the
Tocantins — Second Journey to Cameta.
_August 26th, 1848_—Mr. Wallace and I started today on the excursion
which I have already mentioned as having been planned with Mr. Leavens,
up the river Tocantins, whose mouth lies about forty-five miles in a
straight line, but eighty miles following the bends of the river
channels to the southwest of Pará. This river, as before stated, has a
course of 1600 miles, and stands third in rank amongst the streams
which form the Amazons system. The preparations for the journey took a
great deal of time and trouble. We had first to hire a proper vessel, a
two-masted _ vigilinga_ twenty-seven feet long, with a flat prow and
great breadth of beam and fitted to live in heavy seas; for, although
our voyage was only a river trip, there were vast sea-like expanses of
water to traverse. It was not decked over, but had two arched awnings
formed of strong wickerwork, and thatched with palm leaves. We then had
to store it with provisions for three months, the time we at first
intended to be away; procure the necessary passports; and, lastly,
engage a crew. Mr. Leavens, having had much experience in the country,
managed all these matters. He brought two Indians from the rice-mills,
and these induced another to enrol himself. We, on our parts, took our
cook Isidoro, and a young Indian lad, named Antonio, who had attached
himself to us in the course of our residence at Nazareth. Our principal
man was Alexandro, one of Mr. Leavens’s Indians. He was an intelligent
and well-disposed young Tapuyo, an expert sailor, and an indefatigable
hunter. To his fidelity we were indebted for being enabled to carry out
any of the objects of our voyage. Being a native of a district near the
capital, Alexandro was a civilised Tapuyo, a citizen as free as his
white neighbours. He spoke only Portuguese. He was a spare-built man,
rather under the middle height, with fine regular features, and, what
was unusual in Indians, the upper lip decorated with a moustache. Three
years afterwards I saw him at Pará in the uniform of the National
Guard, and he called on me often to talk about old times. I esteemed
him as a quiet, sensible, manly young fellow.
We set sail in the evening, after waiting several hours in vain for one
of our crew. It was soon dark, the wind blew stiffly, and the tide
rushed along with great rapidity, carrying us swiftly past the crowd of
vessels which were anchored in the port. The canoe rolled a good deal.
After we had made five or six miles of way, the tide turned and we were
obliged to cast anchor. Not long after, we lay ourselves down, all
three together, on the mat which was spread over the floor of our
cabin, and soon fell asleep.
On awaking at sunrise the next morning, we found ourselves gliding
upwards with the tide, along the Bahia or Bay, as it is called, of
Goajará. This is a broad channel lying between the mainland and a line
of islands which extends some distance beyond the city. Into it three
large rivers discharge their waters, namely, the Guamá, the Acará, and
the Mojú; so that it forms a kind of sub-estuary within the grand
estuary of Pará. It is nearly four miles broad. The left bank, along
which we were now sailing, was beautiful in the extreme; not an inch of
soil was to be seen; the water frontage presented a compact wall of
rich and varied forest, resting on the surface of the stream. It seemed
to form a finished border to the water scene, where the dome-like,
rounded shapes of exogenous trees which constituted the mass formed the
groundwork, and the endless diversity of broad-leaved Heliconiæ and
Palms—each kind differing in stem, crown, and fronds—the rich
embroidery. The morning was calm and cloudless; and the slanting beams
of the early sun, striking full on the front of the forest, lighted up
the whole most gloriously. The only sound of life which reached us was
the call of the Serracúra (Gallinula Cayennensis), a kind of wild-fowl;
all else was so still that the voices of boatmen could be plainly heard
from canoes passing a mile or two distant from us. The sun soon gains
great power on the water, but with it the sea-breeze increases in
strength, moderating the heat which would otherwise be almost
insupportable. We reached the end of the Goajará about midday, and then
entered the narrower channel of the Mojú. Up this we travelled, partly
rowing and partly sailing between the same unbroken walls of forest,
until the morning of the 28th.
_August 29th._—The Mojú, a stream slightly inferior to the Thames in
size, is connected about twenty miles from its mouth by means of a
short, artificial canal with a small stream, the Igarapé-mirim, which
flows the opposite way into the water-system of the Tocantins. Small
vessels like ours take this route in preference to the stormy passage
by way of the main river, although the distance is considerably
greater. We passed through the canal yesterday, and today have been
threading our way through a labyrinth of narrow channels, their banks
all clothed with the same magnificent forest, but agreeably varied by
houses of planters and settlers. We passed many quite large
establishments, besides one pretty little village called Santa Anna.
All these channels are washed through by the tides—the ebb, contrary to
what takes place in the short canal, setting towards the Tocantins. The
water is almost tepid (77° Fahr.), and the rank vegetation all around
seems reeking with moisture. The country however, as we were told, is
perfectly healthy. Some of the houses are built on wooden piles driven
into the mud of the swamp.
In the afternoon we reached the end of the last channel, called the
Murutipucú, which runs for several miles between two unbroken lines of
fan-leaved palms, forming colossal palisades with their straight stems.
On rounding a point of land, we came in full view of the Tocantins. The
event was announced by one of our Indians, who was on the lookout at
the prow, shouting: “La está o Paraná-uassú!” “Behold, the great
river!” It was a grand sight—a broad expanse of dark waters dancing
merrily to the breeze; the opposite shore, a narrow blue line, miles
away.
We went ashore on an island covered with palm-trees, to make a fire and
boil our kettle for tea. I wandered a short way inland, and was
astounded at the prospect. The land lay below the upper level of the
daily tides, so that there was no underwood, and the ground was bare.
The trees were almost all of one species of Palm, the gigantic
fan-leaved Mauritia flexuosa; only on the borders was there a small
number of a second kind, the equally remarkable Ubussú palm, Manicaria
saccifera. The Ubussú has erect, uncut leaves, twenty-five feet long,
and six feet wide, all arranged round the top of a four-foot high stem,
so as to form a figure like that of a colossal shuttlecock. The
fan-leaved palms, which clothed nearly the entire islet, had huge
cylindrical smooth stems, three feet in diameter, and about a hundred
feet high. The crowns were formed of enormous clusters of fan-shaped
leaves, the stalks alone of which measured seven to ten feet in length.
Nothing in the vegetable world could be more imposing than this grove
of palms. There was no underwood to obstruct the view of the long
perspective of towering columns. The crowns, which were densely packed
together at an immense height overhead, shut out the rays of the sun;
and the gloomy solitude beneath, through which the sound of our voices
seemed to reverberate, could be compared to nothing so well as a solemn
temple. The fruits of the two palms were scattered over the ground;
those of the Ubussu adhere together by twos and threes, and have a
rough, brown-coloured shell; the fruit of the Mauritia, on the
contrary, is of a bright red hue, and the skin is impressed with
deep-crossing lines, which give it a resemblance to a quilted
cricket-ball.
About midnight, the tide being favourable and the breeze strong, we
crossed the river, taking it in a slanting direction, a distance of
sixteen miles, and arrived at eight o’clock the following morning at
Cametá. This is a town of some importance, pleasantly situated on the
somewhat high terra firma of the left bank of the Tocantins. I will
defer giving an account of the place till the end of this narrative of
our Tocantins voyage. We lost here another of our men, who got drinking
with some old companions ashore, and were obliged to start on the
difficult journey up the river with two hands only, and they in a very
dissatisfied humour with the prospect.
The river view from Cametá is magnificent. The town is situated, as
already mentioned, on a high bank, which forms quite a considerable
elevation for this flat country, and the broad expanse of dark-green
waters is studded with low, palm-clad islands, the prospect down river,
however, being clear, or bounded only by a sea-like horizon of water
and sky. The shores are washed by the breeze-tossed waters into little
bays and creeks, fringed with sandy beaches. The Tocantins has been
likened, by Prince Adalbert of Prussia, who crossed its mouth in 1846,
to the Ganges. It is upwards of ten miles in breadth at its mouth;
opposite Cametá it is five miles broad. Mr. Burchell, the well-known
English traveller, descended the river from the mining provinces of
interior Brazil some years before our visit. Unfortunately, the utility
of this fine stream is impaired by the numerous obstructions to its
navigation in the shape of cataracts and rapids, which commence, in
ascending, at about 120 miles above Cametá, as will be seen in the
sequel.
_August 30th._—Arrived, in company with Senhor Laroque, an intelligent
Portuguese merchant, at Vista Alegre, fifteen miles above Cametá. This
was the residence of Senhor Antonio Ferreira Gomez, and was a fair
sample of a Brazilian planter’s establishment in this part of the
country. The buildings covered a wide space, the dwelling-house being
seParáted from the place of business, and as both were built on low,
flooded ground, the communication between the two was by means of a
long wooden bridge. From the office and visitors’ apartments a wooden
pier extended into the river. The whole was raised on piles above the
high-water mark. There was a rude mill for grinding sugar-cane, worked
by bullocks; but cashaça, or rum, was the only article manufactured
from the juice. Behind the buildings was a small piece of ground
cleared from the forest, and planted with fruit trees, orange, lemon,
genipapa, goyava, and others; and beyond this, a broad path through a
neglected plantation of coffee and cacao, led to several large sheds,
where the farinha, or mandioca meal, was manufactured. The plantations
of mandioca are always scattered about in the forest, some of them
being on islands in the middle of the river. Land being plentiful, and
the plough, as well as, indeed, nearly all other agricultural
implements, unknown, the same ground is not planted three years
together; but a new piece of forest is cleared every alternate year,
and the old clearing suffered to relapse into jungle.
We stayed here two days, sleeping ashore in the apartment devoted to
strangers. As usual in Brazilian houses of the middle class, we were
not introduced to the female members of the family, and, indeed, saw
nothing of them except at a distance. In the forest and thickets about
the place we were tolerably successful in collecting, finding a number
of birds and insects which do not occur at Pará. I saw here, for the
first time, the sky-blue Chatterer (Ampelis cotinga). It was on the
topmost bough of a very lofty tree, and completely out of the reach of
an ordinary fowling-piece. The beautiful light-blue colour of its
plumage was plainly discernible at that distance. It is a dull, quiet
bird. A much commoner species was the Cigana or Gipsy (Opisthocomus
cristatus), a bird belonging to the same order (Gallinacea) as our
domestic fowl. It is about the size of a pheasant; the plumage is dark
brown, varied with reddish, and the head is adorned with a crest of
long feathers. It is a remarkable bird in many respects. The hind toe
is not placed high above the level of the other toes, as it is in the
fowl order generally, but lies on the same plane with them; the shape
of the foot becomes thus suited to the purely arboreal habits of the
bird, enabling it to grasp firmly the branches of trees. This is a
distinguishing character of all the birds in equinoctial America which
represents the fowl and pheasant tribes of the old world, and affords
another proof of the adaptation of the fauna to a forest region. The
Cigana lives in considerable flocks on the lower trees and bushes
bordering the streams and lagoons, and feeds on various wild fruits,
especially the sour Goyava (Psidium sp.). The natives say it devours
the fruit of arborescent Arums (Caladium arborescens), which grow in
crowded masses around the swampy banks of lagoons. Its voice is a
harsh, grating hiss; it makes the noise when alarmed or when disturbed
by passing canoes, all the individuals sibilating as they fly heavily
away from tree to tree. It is polygamous, like other members of the
same order. It is never, however, by any chance, seen on the ground,
and is nowhere domesticated. The flesh has an unpleasant odour of musk
combined with wet hides—a smell called by the Brazilians catinga; it
is, therefore, uneatable. If it be as unpalatable to carnivorous
animals as it is to man, the immunity from persecution which it would
thereby enjoy would account for its existing in such great numbers
throughout the country.
We lost another of our crew here; and thus, at the commencement of our
voyage, had before us the prospect of being forced to return, from
sheer want of hands, to manage the canoe. Senhor Gomez, to whom we had
brought letters of introduction from Senhor Joao Augusto Correia, a
Brazilian gentlemen of high standing at Pará, tried what he could do to
induce the canoe-men of his neighbourhood to engage with us, but it was
a vain endeavour. The people of these parts seemed to be above working
for wages. They are naturally indolent, and besides, have all some
little business or plantation of their own, which gives them a
livelihood with independence. It is difficult to obtain hands under any
circumstances, but it was particularly so in our case, from being
foreigners, and suspected, as was natural amongst ignorant people, of
being strange in our habits. At length, our host lent us two of his
slaves to help us on another stage, namely, to the village of Baiao,
where we had great hopes of having this, our urgent want, supplied by
the military commandant of the district.
Assai Palm (Euterpe oleracea).
_September 2nd._—The distance from Vista Alegre to Baiao is about
twenty-five miles. We had but little wind, and our men were therefore
obliged to row the greater part of the way. The oars used in such
canoes as ours are made by tying a stout paddle to the end of a long
pole by means of woody lianas. The men take their stand on a raised
deck, formed by a few rough planks placed over the arched covering in
the fore part of the vessel, and pull with their backs to the stern. We
started at six a.m., and about sunset reached a point where the west
channel of the river, along which we had been travelling since we left
Cametá, joined a broader middle one, and formed with it a great expanse
of water. The islands here seem to form two pretty regular lines,
dividing the great river into three channels. As we progressed slowly,
we took the montaria, and went ashore, from time to time, to the
houses, which were numerous on the river banks as well as on the larger
islands. In low situations they had a very unfinished appearance, being
mere frameworks raised high on wooden piles, and thatched with the
leaves of the Ubussú palm. In their construction another palm tree is
made much use of, viz., the Assai (Euterpe oleracea). The outer part of
the stem of this species is hard and tough as horn; it is split into
narrow planks, and these form a great portion of the walls and
flooring. The residents told us that the western channel becomes nearly
dry in the middle of the fine season, but that at high water, in April
and May, the river rises to the level of the house floors. The river
bottom is everywhere sandy, and the country perfectly healthy. The
people seemed to all be contented and happy, but idleness and poverty
were exhibited by many unmistakeable signs. As to the flooding of their
island abodes, they did not seem to care about that at all. They seem
to be almost amphibious, or as much at home on the water as on land. It
was really quite alarming to see men and women and children, in little
leaky canoes laden to the water-level with bag and baggage, crossing
broad reaches of river. Most of them have houses also on the terra
firma, and reside in the cool palm swamps of the Ygapó islands, as they
are called, only in the hot and dry season. They live chiefly on fish,
shellfish (amongst which were large Ampullariæ, whose flesh I found, on
trial, to be a very tough morsel), the never failing farinha, and the
fruits of the forest. Amongst the latter, the fruits of palm trees
occupied the chief place. The Assai is the most in use, but this forms
a universal article of diet in all parts of the country. The fruit,
which is perfectly round, and about the size of a cherry, contains but
a small portion of pulp lying between the skin and the hard kernel.
This is made, with the addition of water, into a thick, violet-coloured
beverage, which stains the lips like blackberries. The fruit of the
Mirití is also a common article of food, although the pulp is sour and
unpalatable, at least to European tastes. It is boiled, and then eaten
with farinha. The Tucumá (Astrocaryum tucuma), and the Mucujá
(Acrocomia lasiospatha), grow only on the mainland. Their fruits yield
a yellowish, fibrous pulp, which the natives eat in the same way as the
Mirití. They contain so much fatty matter, that vultures and dogs
devour them greedily.
Early on the morning of September 3rd we reached the right or eastern
bank, which is forty to sixty feet high at this point. The houses were
more substantially built than those we had hitherto seen. We succeeded
in buying a small turtle; most of the inhabitants had a few of these
animals, which they kept in little enclosures made with stakes. The
people were of the same class everywhere, Mamelucos. They were very
civil; we were not able, however, to purchase much fresh food from
them. I think this was owing to their really not having more than was
absolutely required to satisfy their own needs. In these districts,
where the people depend solely on fishing for animal food, there is a
period of the year when they suffer hunger, so that they are disposed
to highly prize a small stock when they have it. They generally
answered in the negative when we asked, money in hand, whether they had
fowls, turtles, or eggs to sell. “Nao ha, sinto que nao posso lhe ser
bom;” or, “Nao ha, men coracao.” “We have none; I am sorry I cannot
oblige you;” or, “There is none, my heart.”
_Sept. 3rd to 7th._—At half-past eight a.m. we arrived at Baiao, which
is built on a very high bank, and contains about 400 inhabitants. We
had to climb to the village up a ladder, which is fixed against the
bank, and, on arriving at the top, took possession of a room, which
Senhor Seixas had given orders to be prepared for us. He himself was
away at his sitio, and would not be here until the next day. We were
now quite dependent upon him for men to enable us to continue our
voyage, and so had no remedy but to wait his leisure. The situation of
the place, and the nature of the woods around it, promised well for
novelties in birds and insects; so we had no reason to be vexed at the
delay, but brought our apparatus and store-boxes up from the canoe, and
set to work.
The easy, lounging life of the people amused us very much. I afterwards
had plenty of time to become used to tropical village life. There is a
free, familiar, pro bono publico style of living in these small places,
which requires some time for a European to fall into. No sooner were we
established in our rooms, than a number of lazy young fellows came to
look on and make remarks, and we had to answer all sorts of questions.
The houses have their doors and windows open to the street, and people
walk in and out as they please; there is always, however, a more
secluded apartment, where the female members of the families reside. In
their familiarity there is nothing intentionally offensive, and it is
practised simply in the desire to be civil and sociable. A young
Mameluco, named Soares, an Escrivao, or public clerk, took me into his
house to show me his library. I was rather surprised to see a number of
well-thumbed Latin classics: Virgil, Terence, Cicero’s Epistles, and
Livy. I was not familiar enough, at this early period of my residence
in the country, with Portuguese to converse freely with Senhor Soares,
or ascertain what use he made of these books; it was an unexpected
sight, a classical library in a mud-plastered and palm-thatched hut on
the banks of the Tocantins.
The prospect from the village was magnificent, over the green wooded
islands, far away to the grey line of forest on the opposite shore of
the Tocantins. We were now well out of the low alluvial country of the
Amazons proper, and the climate was evidently much drier than it is
near Pará. They had had no rain here for many weeks, and the atmosphere
was hazy around the horizon; so much so that the sun, before setting,
glared like a blood-red globe. At Pará this never happens; the stars
and sun are as clear and sharply defined when they peep above the
distant treetops as they are at the zenith. This beautiful transparency
of the air arises, doubtless, from the equal distribution through it of
invisible vapour. I shall ever remember, in one of my voyages along the
Pará river, the grand spectacle that was once presented at sunrise. Our
vessel was a large schooner, and we were bounding along before a
spanking breeze, which tossed the waters into foam as the day dawned.
So clear was the air, that the lower rim of the full moon remained
sharply defined until it touched the western horizon, whilst at the
same time, the sun rose in the east. The two great orbs were visible at
the same time, and the passage from the moonlit night to day was so
gentle that it seemed to be only the brightening of dull weather. The
woods around Baiao were of second growth, the ground having been
formerly cultivated. A great number of coffee and cotton trees grew
amongst the thickets. A fine woodland pathway extends for miles over
the high, undulating bank, leading from one house to another along the
edge of the cliff. I went into several of them, and talked to their
inmates. They were all poor people. The men were out fishing, some far
away, a distance of many days journey; the women plant mandioca, make
the farinha, spin and weave cotton, manufacture soap of burnt cacao
shells and andiroba oil, and follow various other domestic employments.
I asked why they allowed their plantations to run to waste. They said
that it was useless trying to plant anything hereabout; the Sauba ant
devoured the young coffee trees, and everyone who attempted to contend
against this universal ravager was sure to be defeated. The country,
for many miles along the banks of the river, seemed to be well peopled.
The inhabitants were nearly all of the tawny-white Mameluco class. I
saw a good many mulattos, but very few negroes and Indians, and none
that could be called pure whites.
When Senhor Seixas arrived, he acted very kindly. He provided us at
once with two men, killed an ox in our honour, and treated us
altogether with great consideration. We were not, however, introduced
to his family. I caught a glimpse once of his wife, a pretty little
Mameluco woman, as she was tripping with a young girl, whom I supposed
to be her daughter, across the backyard. Both wore long dressing-gowns
made of bright-coloured calico print, and had long wooden tobacco-pipes
in their mouths. The room in which we slept and worked had formerly
served as a storeroom for cacao, and at night I was kept awake for
hours by rats and cockroaches, which swarm in all such places. The
latter were running about all over the walls; now and then one would
come suddenly with a whirr full at my face, and get under my shirt if I
attempted to jerk it off. As to the rats, they were chasing one another
by the dozens all night long over the floor, up and down the edges of
the doors, and along the rafters of the open roof.
_September 7th._—We started from Baiao at an early hour. One of our new
men was a good-humoured, willing young mulatto named José; the other
was a sulky Indian called Manoel, who seemed to have been pressed into
our service against his will. Senhor Seixas, on parting, sent a
quantity of fresh provisions on board. A few miles above Baiao the
channel became very shallow; we ran aground several times, and the men
had to disembark and shove the vessel off. Alexandro shot several fine
fish here, with bow and arrow. It was the first time I had seen fish
captured in this way. The arrow is a reed, with a steel barbed point,
which is fixed in a hole at the end, and secured by fine twine made
from the fibres of pineapple leaves. It is only in the clearest water
that fish can be thus shot: and the only skill required is to make, in
taking aim, the proper allowance for refraction.
The next day before sunrise a fine breeze sprang up, and the men awoke
and set the sails. We glided all day through channels between islands
with long, white, sandy beaches, over which, now and then, aquatic and
wading birds were seen running. The forest was low, and had a harsh,
dry aspect. Several palm trees grew here which we had not before seen.
On low bushes, near the water, pretty, red-headed tanagers (Tanagra
gularis) were numerous, flitting about and chirping like sparrows.
About half-past four p.m., we brought to at the mouth of a creek or
channel, where there was a great extent of sandy beach. The sand had
been blown by the wind into ridges and undulations, and over the more
moist parts, large flocks of sandpipers were running about. Alexandro
and I had a long ramble over the rolling plain, which came as an
agreeable change after the monotonous forest scenery amid which we had
been so long travelling. He pointed out to me the tracks of a huge
jaguar on the sand. We found here, also, our first turtle’s nest, and
obtained 120 eggs from it, which were laid at a depth of nearly two
feet from the surface, the mother first excavating a hole, and
afterwards covering it up with sand. The place is discoverable only by
following the tracks of the turtle from the water. I saw here an
alligator for the first time, which reared its head and shoulders above
the water just after I had taken a bath near the spot. The night was
calm and cloudless, and we employed the hours before bedtime in angling
by moonlight.
On the 10th, we reached a small settlement called Patos, consisting of
about a dozen houses, and built on a high, rocky bank, on the eastern
shore. The rock is the same nodular conglomerate which is found at so
many places, from the seacoast to a distance of 600 miles up the
Amazons. Mr. Leavens made a last attempt here to engage men to
accompany us to the Araguaya, but it was in vain; not a soul could be
induced by any amount of wages to go on such an expedition. The reports
as to the existence of cedar were very vague. All said that the tree
was plentiful somewhere, but no one could fix on the precise locality.
I believe that the cedar grows, like all other forest trees, in a
scattered way, and not in masses anywhere. The fact of its being the
principal tree observed floating down with the current of the Amazons
is to be explained by its wood being much lighter than that of the
majority of trees. When the banks are washed away by currents, trees of
all species fall into the river; but the heavier ones, which are the
most numerous, sink, and the lighter, such as the cedar, alone float
down to the sea.
Mr. Leavens was told that there were cedar trees at Trocará, on the
opposite side of the river, near some fine rounded hills covered with
forest, visible from Patos; so there we went. We found here several
families encamped in a delightful spot. The shore sloped gradually down
to the water, and was shaded by a few wide-spreading trees. There was
no underwood. A great number of hammocks were seen slung between the
tree trunks, and the litter of a numerous household lay scattered
about. Women, old and young, some of the latter very good-looking, and
a large number of children, besides pet animals, enlivened the
encampment. They were all half-breeds, simple, well-disposed people,
and explained to us that they were inhabitants of Cametá, who had come
thus far, eighty miles, to spend the summer months. The only motive
they could give for coming was that: “it was so hot in the town in the
verao (summer), and they were all so fond of fresh fish.” Thus, these
simple folks think nothing of leaving home and business to come on a
three months’ picnic. It is the annual custom of this class of people
throughout the province to spend a few months of the fine season in the
wilder parts of the country. They carry with them all the farinha they
can scrape together, this being the only article of food necessary to
provide. The men hunt and fish for the day’s wants, and sometimes
collect a little India-rubber, salsaparilla, or copaiba oil, to sell to
traders on their return; the women assist in paddling the canoes, do
the cooking, and sometimes fish with rod and line. The weather is
enjoyable the whole time, and so days and weeks pass happily away.
One of the men volunteered to walk with us into the forest, and show us
a few cedar trees. We passed through a mile or two of spiny thickets,
and at length came upon the banks of the rivulet Trocará, which flows
over a stony bed, and, about a mile above its mouth, falls over a ledge
of rocks, thus forming a very pretty cascade. In the neighbourhood, we
found a number of specimens of a curious land-shell, a large flat
Helix, with a labyrinthine mouth (Anastoma). We learned afterwards that
it was a species which had been discovered a few years previously by
Dr. Gardner, the botanist, on the upper part of the Tocantins.
We saw here, for the first time, the splendid Hyacinthine macaw
(Macrocercus hyacinthinus, Lath., the Araruna of the natives), one of
the finest and rarest species of the Parrot family. It only occurs in
the interior of Brazil, from 16° S. lat. to the southern border of the
Amazons valley. It is three feet long from the beak to the tip of the
tail, and is entirely of a soft hyacinthine blue colour, except round
the eyes, where the skin is naked and white. It flies in pairs, and
feeds on the hard nuts of several palms, but especially of the Mucujá
(Acrocomia lasiospatha). These nuts, which are so hard as to be
difficult to break with a heavy hammer, are crushed to a pulp by the
powerful beak of this macaw.
Mr. Leavens was thoroughly disgusted with the people of Patos. Two men
had come from below with the intention, I believe, of engaging with us,
but they now declined. The inspector, constable, or governor of the
place appeared to be a very slippery customer, and I fancy discouraged
the men from going, whilst making a great show of forwarding our views.
These outlying settlements are the resort of a number of idle,
worthless characters. There was a kind of festival going on, and the
people fuddled themselves with cashiri, an intoxicating drink invented
by the Indians. It is made by soaking mandioca cakes in water until
fermentation takes place, and tastes like new beer.
Being unable to obtain men, Mr. Leavens now gave up his project of
ascending the river as far as the Araguaya. He assented to our request,
however, to ascend to the cataracts near Arroyos. We started,
therefore, from Patos with a more definite aim before us than we had
hitherto. The river became more picturesque as we advanced. The water
was very low, it being now the height of the dry reason; the islands
were smaller than those further down, and some of them were high and
rocky. Bold wooded bluffs projected into the stream, and all the shores
were fringed with beaches of glistening white sand. On one side of the
river there was an extensive grassy plain or campo with isolated
patches of trees scattered over it. On the 14th and following day we
stopped several times to ramble ashore. Our longest excursion was to a
large shallow lagoon, choked up with aquatic plants, which lay about
two miles across the campo. At a place called Juquerapuá, we engaged a
pilot to conduct us to Arroyos, and a few miles above the pilot’s
house, arrived at a point where it was not possible to advance further
in our large canoe on account of the rapids.
_September 16th._—Embarked at six a.m. in a large montaria which had
been lent to us for this part of our voyage by Senhor Seixas, leaving
the vigilinga anchored close to a rocky islet, named Santa Anna, to
await our return. Isidoro was left in charge, and we were sorry to be
obliged to leave behind also our mulatto José, who had fallen ill since
leaving Baiao. We had then remaining only Alexandro, Manoel, and the
pilot, a sturdy Tapuyo named Joaquim; scarcely a sufficient crew to
paddle against the strong currents. At ten a.m. we arrived at the first
rapids, which are called Tapaiunaquára. The river, which was here about
a mile wide, was choked up with rocks, a broken ridge passing
completely across it. Between these confused piles of stone the
currents were fearfully strong, and formed numerous eddies and
whirlpools. We were obliged to get out occasionally and walk from rock
to rock, whilst the men dragged the canoe over the obstacles. Beyond
Tapaiunaquára, the stream became again broad and deep, and the river
scenery was beautiful in the extreme. The water was clear and of a
bluish-green colour. On both sides of the stream stretched ranges of
wooded hills, and in the middle picturesque islets rested on the smooth
water, whose brilliant green woods fringed with palms formed charming
bits of foreground to the perspective of sombre hills fading into grey
in the distance. Joaquim pointed out to us grove after grove of Brazil
nut trees (Bertholletia excelsa) on the mainland. This is one of the
chief collecting grounds for this nut. The tree is one of the loftiest
in the forest, towering far above its fellows; we could see the woody
fruits, large and round as cannon-balls, dotted over the branches. The
currents were very strong in some places, so that during the greater
part of the way the men preferred to travel near the shore, and propel
the boat by means of long poles.
We arrived at Arroyos about four o’clock in the afternoon, after ten
hours’ hard pull. The place consists simply of a few houses built on a
high bank, and forms a station where canoemen from the mining countries
of the interior of Brazil stop to rest themselves before or after
surmounting the dreaded falls and rapids of Guaribas, situated a couple
of miles further up. We dined ashore, and in the evening again embarked
to visit the falls. The vigorous and successful way in which our men
battled with the terrific currents excited our astonishment. The bed of
the river, here about a mile wide, is strewn with blocks of various
sizes, which lie in the most irregular manner, and between them rush
currents of more or less rapidity. With an accurate knowledge of the
place and skilful management, the falls can be approached in small
canoes by threading the less dangerous channels. The main fall is about
a quarter of a mile wide; we climbed to an elevation overlooking it,
and had a good view of the cataract. A body of water rushes with
terrific force down a steep slope, and boils up with deafening roar
around the boulders which obstruct its course. The wildness of the
whole scene was very impressive. As far as the eye could see, stretched
range after range of wooded hills and scores of miles of beautiful
wilderness, inhabited only by scanty tribes of wild Indians. In the
midst of such a solitude, the roar of the cataract seemed fitting
music.
_September 17th._—We commenced early in the morning our downward
voyage. Arroyos is situated in about 4° 10′ S. lat.; and lies,
therefore, about 130 miles from the mouth of the Tocantins. Fifteen
miles above Guaribas, another similar cataract called Tabocas lies
across the river. We were told that there were in all fifteen of these
obstructions to navigate, between Arroyos and the mouth of the
Araguaya. The worst was the Inferno, the Guaribas standing second to it
in evil reputation. Many canoes and lives have been lost here, most of
the accidents arising through the vessels being hurled against an
enormous cubical mass of rock called the Guaribinha, which we, on our
trip to the falls in the small canoe, passed round with the greatest
ease about a quarter of a mile below the main falls. This, however, was
the dry season; in the time of full waters, a tremendous current sets
against it. We descended the river rapidly, and found it excellent fun
shooting the rapids. The men seemed to delight in choosing the swiftest
parts of the current; they sang and yelled in the greatest excitement,
working the paddles with great force, and throwing clouds of spray
above us as we bounded downwards. We stopped to rest at the mouth of a
rivulet named Caganxa. The pilot told us that gold had been found in
the bed of this brook; so we had the curiosity to wade several hundred
yards through the icy cold waters in search of it. Mr. Leavens seemed
very much interested in the matter. He picked up all the shining stones
he could espy in the pebbly bottom, in hopes of finding diamonds also.
There is, in fact, no reason why both gold and diamonds should not be
found here, the hills being a continuation of those of the mining
countries of interior Brazil, and the brooks flowing through the narrow
valleys between them.
On arriving at the place where we had left our canoe, we found poor
José the mulatto much worse, so we hastened on to Juquerapuá to procure
aid. An old half-caste woman took charge of him; she made poultices of
the pulp of a wild fruit, administered cooling draughts made from herbs
which grew near the house, and in fact, acted the part of nurse
admirably. We stayed at this place all night and part of the following
day, and I had a stroll along a delightful pathway, which led over hill
and dale, two or three miles through the forest. I was surprised at the
number and variety of brilliantly-coloured butterflies; they were all
of small size and started forth from the low bushes, which bordered the
road, at every step I took. I first heard here the notes of a trogon;
it was seated alone on a branch, at no great elevation; a beautiful
bird, with glossy-green back and rose-coloured breast (probably Trogon
melanurus). At intervals it uttered, in a complaining tone, a sound
resembling the words “quá, quá.” It is a dull inactive bird, and not
very ready to take flight when approached. In this respect, however,
the trogons are not equal to the jacamars, whose stupidity in remaining
at their posts, seated on low branches in the gloomiest shades of the
forest, is somewhat remarkable in a country where all other birds are
exceedingly wary. One species of jacamar was not uncommon here (Galbula
viridis); I sometimes saw two or three together seated on a slender
branch, silent and motionless with the exception of a slight movement
of the head; when an insect flew past within a short distance, one of
the birds would dart off, seize it, and return again to its
sitting-place. The trogons are found in the tropics of both
hemispheres. The jacamars, which are clothed in plumage of the most
beautiful golden-bronze and steel colours, are peculiar to tropical
America.
At night I slept ashore as a change from the confinement of the canoe,
having obtained permission from Senhor Joaquim to sling my hammock
under his roof. The house, like all others in these out-of-the-way
parts of the country, was a large open, palm-thatched shed, having one
end enclosed by means of partitions also made of palm-leaves, so as to
form a private apartment. Under the shed were placed all the household
utensils; earthenware jars, pots, and kettles, hunting and fishing
implements, paddles, bows and arrows, harpoons, and so forth. One or
two common wooden chests serve to contain the holiday clothing of the
females. There is no other furniture except a few stools and the
hammock, which answers the purposes of chair and sofa. When a visitor
enters, he is asked to sit down in a hammock; persons who are on
intimate terms with each other recline together in the same hammock,
one at each end. This is a very convenient arrangement for friendly
conversation. There are neither tables nor chairs; the cloth for meals
is spread on a mat, and the guests squat round in any position they
choose. There is no cordiality of manners, but the treatment of the
guests shows a keen sense of the duties of hospitality on the part of
the host. There is a good deal of formality in the intercourse of these
half-wild mamelucos, which, I believe, has been chiefly derived from
their Indian forefathers, although a little of it may have been copied
from the Portuguese.
A little distance from the house were the open sheds under which the
farinha for the use of the establishment was manufactured. In the
centre of each shed stood the shallow pans, made of clay and built over
ovens, where the meal is roasted. A long flexible cylinder made of the
peel of a marantaceous plant, plaited into the proper form, hung
suspended from a beam; it is in this that the pulp of the mandioca is
pressed, and from it the juice, which is of a highly poisonous nature,
although the pulp is wholesome food, runs into pans placed beneath to
receive it. A wooden trough, such as is used in all these places for
receiving the pulp before the poisonous matter is extracted, stood on
the ground, and from the posts hung the long wicker-work baskets, or
aturas, in which the women carry the roots from the roça or clearing; a
broad ribbon made from the inner bark of the monguba tree is attached
to the rims of the baskets, and is passed round the forehead of the
carriers, to relieve their backs in supporting the heavy load. Around
the shed were planted a number of banana and other fruit trees; amongst
them were the never-failing capsicum-pepper bushes, brilliant as
holly-trees at Christmas time with their fiery-red fruit, and lemon
trees; the one supplying the pungent, the other the acid, for sauce to
the perpetual meal of fish. There is never in such places any
appearance of careful cultivation—no garden or orchard. The useful
trees are surrounded by weeds and bushes, and close behind rises the
everlasting forest.
There were other strangers under Senhor Joaquim’s roof besides
myself—mulattos, mamelucos, and Indian,—so we formed altogether a large
party. Houses occur at rare intervals in this wild country, and
hospitality is freely given to the few passing travellers. After a
frugal supper, a large wood fire was lighted in the middle of the shed,
and all turned in to their hammocks, and began to converse. A few of
the party soon dropped asleep; others, however, kept awake until a very
late hour telling stories. Some related adventures which had happened
to them whilst hunting or fishing; others recounted myths about the
Curupíra, and other demons or spirits of the forest. They were all very
appropriate to the time and place, for now and then a yell or a shriek
resounded through the gloomy wilderness around the shed. One old
parchment-faced fellow, with a skin the colour of mahogany, seemed to
be a capital story-teller; but I was sorry I did not know enough of the
language to follow him in all the details which he gave. Amongst other
things, he related an adventure he had once had with a jaguar. He got
up from his hammock in the course of the narrative to give it the
greater effect by means of gestures; he seized a bow and a large
taquará arrow to show how he slew the beast, imitated its hoarse growl,
and danced about the fire like a demon.
In descending the river we landed frequently, and Mr. Wallace and I
lost no chance of adding to our collections, so that before the end of
our journey, we had got together a very considerable number of birds,
insects, and shells, chiefly taken, however, in the low country.
Leaving Baiao, we took our last farewell of the limpid waters and
varied scenery of the upper river, and found ourselves again in the
humid flat region of the Amazons valley. We sailed down this lower part
of the river by a different channel from the one we travelled along in
ascending, and frequently went ashore on the low islands in mid-river.
As already stated, these are covered with water in the wet season; but
at this time, there having been three months of fine weather, they were
dry throughout, and by the subsidence of the waters, placed four or
five feet above the level of the river. They are covered with a most
luxuriant forest, comprising a large number of india-rubber trees. We
found several people encamped here, who were engaged in collecting and
preparing the rubber, and thus had an opportunity of observing the
process.
The tree which yields this valuable sap is the Siphonia elastica, a
member of the Euphorbiaceous order; it belongs, therefore, to a group
of plants quite different from that which furnishes the caoutchouc of
the East Indies and Africa. This latter is the product of different
species of Ficus, and is considered, I believe, in commerce, an
inferior article to the India-rubber of Pará. The Siphonia elastica
grows only on the lowlands in the Amazons region; hitherto, the rubber
has been collected chiefly in the islands and swampy parts of the
mainland within a distance of fifty to a hundred miles to the west of
Pará; but there are plenty of untapped trees still growing in the wilds
of the Tapajos, Madeira, Juruá, and Jauarí, as far as 1800 miles from
the Atlantic coast. The tree is not remarkable in appearance; in bark
and foliage it is not unlike the European ash. But the trunk, like that
of all forest trees, shoots up to an immense height before throwing off
branches. The trees seem to be no man’s property hereabout. The people
we met with told us they came every year to collect rubber on these
islands as soon as the waters had subsided, namely in August, and
remained until January or February. The process is very simple. Every
morning each person, man or woman, to whom is allotted a certain number
of trees, goes the round of the whole and collects in a large vessel
the milky sap which trickles from gashes made in the bark on the
preceding evening, and which is received in little clay cups, or in
ampullaria shells stuck beneath the wounds. The sap, which at first is
of the consistence of cream, soon thickens; the collectors are provided
with a great number of wooden moulds of the shape in which the rubber
is wanted, and when they return to the camp, they dip them into the
liquid, laying on, in the course of several days, one coat after
another. When this is done, the substance is white and hard; the proper
colour and consistency are given by passing it repeatedly through a
thick black smoke obtained by burning the nuts of certain palm trees,
after which process the article is ready for sale. India-rubber is
known throughout the province only by the name of seringa, the
Portuguese word for syringe; it owes this appellation to the
circumstance that it was only in this form that the first Portuguese
settlers noticed it to be employed by the aborigines. It is said that
the Indians were first taught to make syringes of rubber by seeing
natural tubes formed by it when the spontaneously-flowing sap gathered
round projecting twigs. Brazilians of all classes still use it
extensively in the form of syringes, for injections form a great
feature in the popular system of cures; the rubber for this purpose is
made into a pear- shaped bottle, and a quill fixed in the long neck.
_September 24th._—Opposite Cametá, the islands are all planted with
cacao, the tree which yields the chocolate nut. The forest is not
cleared for the purpose, but the cacao plants are stuck in here and
there almost at random amongst the trees. There are many houses on the
banks of the river, all elevated above the swampy soil on wooden piles,
and furnished with broad ladders by which to mount to the ground floor.
As we passed by in our canoe, we could see the people at their
occupations in the open verandas, and in one place saw a ball going on
in broad daylight; there were fiddles and guitars hard at work, and a
number of lads in white shirts and trousers dancing with brown damsels
clad in showy print dresses. The cacao tree produces a curious
impression on account of the flowers and fruit growing directly out of
the trunk and branches. There is a whole group of wild fruit trees
which have the same habit in this country. In the wildernesses where
the cacao is planted, the collecting of the fruit is dangerous due to
the number of poisonous snakes which inhabit the places. One day, when
we were running our montaria to a landing-place, we saw a large serpent
on the trees overhead as we were about to brush past; the boat was
stopped just in the nick of time, and Mr. Leavens brought the reptile
down with a charge of shot.
_September 26th._—At length we got clear of the islands, and saw once
more before us the sea-like expanse of waters which forms the mouth of
the Tocantins. The river had now sunk to its lowest point, and numbers
of fresh-water dolphins were rolling about in shoaly places. There are
here two species, one of which was new to science when I sent specimens
to England; it is called the Tucuxí (Steno tucuxi of Gray). When it
comes to the surface to breathe, it rises horizontally, showing first
its back fin, then draws an inspiration, and dives gently down, head
foremost. This mode of proceeding distinguishes the Tucuxí at once from
the other species, which is called Bouto or porpoise by the natives
(Inia Geoffroyi of Desmarest). When this rises the top of the head is
the part first seen; it then blows, and immediately afterwards dips
head downwards, its back curving over, exposing successively the whole
dorsal ridge with its fin. It seems thus to pitch heels over head, but
does not show the tail fin. Besides this peculiar motion, it is
distinguished from the Tucuxí by its habit of generally going in pairs.
Both species are exceedingly numerous throughout the Amazons and its
larger tributaries, but they are nowhere more plentiful than in the
shoaly water at the mouth of the Tocantins, especially in the dry
season. In the Upper Amazons a third pale flesh-coloured species is
also abundant (the Delphinus pallidus of Gervais). With the exception
of a species found in the Ganges, all other varieties of dolphin
inhabit the sea exclusively. In the broader parts of the Amazons, from
its mouth to a distance of fifteen hundred miles in the interior, one
or other of the three kinds here mentioned are always heard rolling,
blowing, and snorting, especially at night, and these noises contribute
much to the impression of sea-wide vastness and desolation which haunts
the traveller. Besides dolphins in the water, frigate birds in the air
are characteristic of this lower part of the Tocantins. Flocks of them
were seen the last two or three days of our journey, hovering above at
an immense height. Towards night, we were obliged to cast anchor over a
shoal in the middle of the river to await the ebb tide. The wind blew
very strongly, and this, together with the incoming flow, caused such a
heavy sea that it was impossible to sleep. The vessel rolled and
pitched until every bone in our bodies ached with the bumps we
received, and we were all more or less sea-sick. On the following day
we entered the Anapú, and on the 30th September, after threading again
the labyrinth of channels communicating between the Tocantins and the
Moju, arrived at Pará.
I will now give a short account of Cametá, the principal town on the
banks of the Tocantins, which I visited for the second time, in June,
1849; Mr. Wallace, in the same month, departed from Pará to explore the
rivers Guamá and Capim. I embarked as passenger in a Cametá trading
vessel, the _St. John_, a small schooner of thirty tons burthen. I had
learnt by this time that the only way to attain the objects for which I
had come to this country was to accustom myself to the ways of life of
the humbler classes of the inhabitants. A traveller on the Amazons
gains little by being furnished with letters of recommendation to
persons of note, for in the great interior wildernesses of forest and
river the canoe-men have pretty much their own way; the authorities
cannot force them to grant passages or to hire themselves to
travellers, and therefore, a stranger is obliged to ingratiate himself
with them in order to get conveyed from place to place. I thoroughly
enjoyed the journey to Cametá; the weather was again beautiful in the
extreme. We started from Pará at sunrise on the 8th of June, and on the
10th emerged from the narrow channels of the Anapu into the broad
Tocantins. The vessel was so full of cargo that there was no room to
sleep in the cabin; so we passed the nights on deck. The captain or
supercargo, called in Portuguese _cabo_, was a mameluco, named Manoel,
a quiet, good-humoured person, who treated me with the most unaffected
civility during the three days’ journey. The pilot was also a mameluco,
named John Mendez, a handsome young fellow, full of life and spirit. He
had on board a wire guitar or viola, as it is here called; and in the
bright moonlight nights, as we lay at anchor hour after hour waiting
for the tide, he enlivened us all with songs and music. He was on the
best of terms with the cabo, both sleeping in the same hammock slung
between the masts. I passed the nights wrapped in an old sail outside
the roof of the cabin. The crew, five in number, were Indians and
half-breeds, all of whom treated their two superiors with the most
amusing familiarity, yet I never sailed in a better managed vessel than
the _St. John._
In crossing to Cametá we had to await the flood-tide in a channel
called Entre-as-Ilhas, which lies between two islands in mid- river,
and John Mendez, being in good tune, gave us an extempore song,
consisting of a great number of verses. The crew lay about the deck
listening, and all joined in the chorus. Some stanzas related to me,
telling how I had come all the way from “Inglaterra,” to skin monkeys
and birds and catch insects; the last-mentioned employment of course
giving ample scope for fun. He passed from this to the subject of
political parties in Cametá; and then, as all the hearers were
Cametaenses and understood the hits, there were roars of laughter, some
of them rolling over and over on the deck, so much were they tickled.
Party spirit runs high at Cametá, not merely in connection with local
politics, but in relation to affairs of general concern, such as the
election of members to the Imperial Parliament, and so forth. This
political strife is partly attributable to the circumstance that a
native of Cametá, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, had been in almost every
election, one of the candidates for the representation of the province.
I fancied these shrewd but unsophisticated canoe-men saw through the
absurdities attending these local contests, and hence their inclination
to satirise them; they were, however, evidently partisans of Dr.
Angelo. The brother of Dr. Angelo, Joao Augusto Correia, a
distinguished merchant, was an active canvasser. The party of the
Correias was the Liberal, or, as it is called throughout Brazil, the
Santa Luzia faction; the opposite side, at the head of which was one
Pedro Moraes, was the Conservative, or Saquarema party. I preserved one
of the stanzas of the song, which, however, does not contain much
point; it ran thus:—
Ora paná, tana paná!, pana taná,
Joao Augusto hé bonito e homem pimpao,
Mas Pedro hé feio e hum grande ladrao,
(Chorus) Ora paná, etc.
John Augustus is handsome and as a man ought to be,
But Peter is ugly and a great thief.
(Chorus) Ora paná, etc.
The canoe-men of the Amazons have many songs and choruses, with which
they are in the habit of relieving the monotony of their slow voyages,
and which are known all over the interior. The choruses consist of a
simple strain, repeated almost to weariness, and sung generally in
unison, but sometimes with an attempt at harmony. There is a wildness
and sadness about the tunes which harmonise well with, and in fact are
born of, the circumstances of the canoe-man’s life: the echoing
channels, the endless gloomy forests, the solemn nights, and the
desolate scenes of broad and stormy waters and falling banks. Whether
they were invented by the Indians or introduced by the Portuguese it is
hard to decide, as many of the customs of the lower classes of
Portuguese are so similar to those of the Indians that they have become
blended with them. One of the commonest songs is very wild and pretty.
It has for refrain the words “Mai, Mai” (“Mother, Mother”), with a long
drawl on the second word. The stanzas are quite variable; the best wit
on board starts the verse, improvising as he goes on, and the others
join in the chorus. They all relate to the lonely river life and the
events of the voyage—the shoals, the wind, how far they shall go before
they stop to sleep, and so forth. The sonorous native names of places,
Goajará, Tucumandúba, etc., add greatly to the charm of the wild music.
Sometimes they bring in the stars thus:—
A lua está sahindo,
Mai, Mai!
A lua está sahindo,
Mai, Mai!
As sete estrellas estao chorando,
Mai, Mai!
Por s’acharem desamparados,
Mai, Mai!
The moon is rising,
Mother, Mother!
The moon is rising,
Mother, Mother!
The seven stars (Pleiades) are weeping,
Mother, Mother!
To find themselves forsaken,
Mother, mother!
I fell asleep about ten o’clock, but at four in the morning John Mendez
woke me to enjoy the sight of the little schooner tearing through the
waves before a spanking breeze. The night was transparently clear and
almost cold, the moon appeared sharply defined against the dark blue
sky, and a ridge of foam marked where the prow of the vessel was
cleaving its way through the water. The men had made a fire in the
galley to make tea of an acid herb, called _erva cidreira_, a quantity
of which they had gathered at the last landing-place, and the flames
sparkled cheerily upwards. It is at such times as these that Amazon
travelling is enjoyable, and one no longer wonders at the love which
many, both natives and strangers, have for this wandering life. The
little schooner sped rapidly on with booms bent and sails stretched to
the utmost; just as day dawned, we ran with scarcely slackened speed
into the port of Cameta, and cast anchor.
I stayed at Cametá until the 16th of July, and made a considerable
collection of the natural productions of the neighbourhood. The town in
1849 was estimated to contain about 5000 inhabitants, but the municipal
district of which Cametá is the capital numbered 20,000; this, however,
comprised the whole of the lower part of the Tocantins, which is the
most thickly populated part of the province of Pará. The productions of
the district are cacao, india-rubber, and Brazil nuts. The most
remarkable feature in the social aspect of the place is the hybrid
nature of the whole population, the amalgamation of the white and
Indian races being here complete. The aborigines were originally very
numerous on the western bank of the Tocantins, the principal tribe
having been the Camútas, from which the city takes its name. They were
a superior nation, settled, and attached to agriculture, and received
with open arms the white immigrants who were attracted to the district
by its fertility, natural beauty, and the healthfulness of the climate.
The Portuguese settlers were nearly all males, the Indian women were
good-looking, and made excellent wives; so the natural result has been,
in the course of two centuries, a complete blending of the two races.
There is now, however, a considerable infusion of negro blood in the
mixture, several hundred African slaves having been introduced during
the last seventy years. The few whites are chiefly Portuguese, but
there are also two or three Brazilian families of pure European
descent. The town consists of three long streets, running parallel to
the river, with a few shorter ones crossing them at right angles. The
houses are very plain, being built, as usual in this country, simply of
a strong framework, filled up with mud, and coated with white plaster.
A few of them are of two or three stories. There are three churches,
and also a small theatre, where a company of native actors at the time
of my visit were representing light Portuguese plays with considerable
taste and ability. The people have a reputation all over the province
for energy and perseverance; and it is often said that they are as keen
in trade as the Portuguese. The lower classes are as indolent and
sensual here as in other parts of the province, a moral condition not
to be wondered at in a country where perpetual summer reigns, and where
the necessities of life are so easily obtained. But they are
light-hearted, quick-witted, communicative, and hospitable. I found
here a native poet, who had written some pretty verses, showing an
appreciation of the natural beauties of the country, and was told that
the Archbishop of Bahia, the primate of Brazil, was a native of Cametá.
It is interesting to find the mamelucos displaying talent and
enterprise, for it shows that degeneracy does not necessarily result
from the mixture of white and Indian blood. The Cametaenses boast, as
they have a right to do, of theirs being the only large town which
resisted successfully the anarchists in the great rebellion of 1835-6.
Whilst the whites of Pará were submitting to the rule of half-savage
revolutionists, the mamelucos of Cametá placed themselves under the
leadership of a courageous priest, named Prudencio; they armed
themselves, fortified the place, and repulsed the large forces which
the insurgents of Pará sent to attack the place. The town not only
became the refuge for all loyal subjects, but was a centre whence large
parties of volunteers sallied forth repeatedly to attack the anarchists
in their various strongholds.
The forest behind Cametá is traversed by several broad roads, which
lead over undulating ground many miles into the interior. They pass
generally under shade, and part of the way through groves of coffee and
orange trees, fragrant plantations of cacao, and tracts of
second-growth woods. The narrow brook-watered valleys, with which the
land is intersected, alone have remained clothed with primæval forest,
at least near the town. The houses along these beautiful roads belong
chiefly to Mameluco, mulatto, and Indian families, each of which has
its own small plantation. There are only a few planters with larger
establishments, and these have seldom more than a dozen slaves. Besides
the main roads, there are endless bye-paths which thread the forest and
communicate with isolated houses. Along these the traveller may wander
day after day without leaving the shade, and everywhere meet with
cheerful, simple, and hospitable people.
Soon after landing, I was introduced to the most distinguished citizen
of the place, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, whom I have already
mentioned. This excellent man was a favourable specimen of the highest
class of native Brazilians. He had been educated in Europe, was now a
member of the Brazilian Parliament, and had been twice president of his
native province. His manners were less formal, and his goodness more
thoroughly genuine, perhaps, than is the rule generally with
Brazilians. He was admired and loved, as I had ample opportunity of
observing, throughout all Amazonia. He sacrificed his life in 1855, for
the good of his fellow- townsmen, when Cameta was devastated by the
cholera; having stayed behind with a few heroic spirits to succour
invalids and direct the burying of the dead, when nearly all the chief
citizens had fled from the place. After he had done what he could, he
embarked for Pará but was himself then attacked with cholera, and died
on board the steamer before he reached the capital. Dr. Angelo received
me with the usual kindness which he showed to all strangers. He
procured me, unsolicited, a charming country house, free of rent, hired
a mulatto servant for me, and thus relieved me of the many annoyances
and delays attendant on a first arrival in a country town where even
the name of an inn is unknown. The rocinha, thus given up for my
residence, belonged to a friend of his, Senhor José Raimundo Furtado, a
stout florid-complexioned gentleman, such a one as might be met with
any day in a country town in England. To him also I was indebted for
many acts of kindness.
The rocinha was situated near a broad grassy road bordered by lofty
woods, which leads from Cametá to the Aldeia, a village two miles
distant. My first walks were along this road. From it branches another
similar but still more picturesque road, which runs to Curimá and
Pacajá, two small settlements, several miles distant, in the heart of
the forest. The Curimá road is beautiful in the extreme. About half a
mile from the house where I lived, it crosses a brook flowing through a
deep dell by means of a long rustic wooden bridge. The virgin forest is
here left untouched; numerous groups of slender palms, mingled with
lofty trees overrun with creepers and Parásites, fill the shady glen
and arch over the bridge, forming one of the most picturesque scenes
imaginable. A little beyond the bridge there was an extensive grove of
orange and other trees, which yielded me a rich harvest. The Aldeia
road runs parallel to the river, the land from the border of the road
to the indented shore of the Tocantins forming a long slope which was
also richly wooded; this slope was threaded by numerous shady paths,
and abounded in beautiful insects and birds. At the opposite or
southern end of the town, there was a broad road called the Estrada da
Vacaria; this ran along the banks of the Tocantins at some distance
from the river, and continued over hill and dale, through bamboo
thickets and palm swamps, for about fifteen miles.
At Cametá I chanced to verify a fact relating to the habits of a large
hairy spider of the genus Mygale, in a manner worth recording. The
species was M. avicularia, or one very closely allied to it; the
individual was nearly two inches in length of body, but the legs
expanded seven inches, and the entire body and legs were covered with
coarse grey and reddish hairs. I was attracted by a movement of the
monster on a tree-trunk; it was close beneath a deep crevice in the
tree, across which was stretched a dense white web. The lower part of
the web was broken, and two small birds, finches, were entangled in the
pieces; they were about the size of the English siskin, and I judged
the two to be male and female. One of them was quite dead, the other
lay under the body of the spider, not quite dead, and was smeared with
the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the monster. I drove away the
spider and took the birds, but the second one soon died. The fact of
species of Mygale sallying forth at night, mounting trees, and sucking
the eggs and young of humming-birds, has been recorded long ago by
Madame Merian and Palisot de Beauvois; but, in the absence of any
confirmation, it has come to be discredited. From the way the fact has
been related, it would appear that it had been merely derived from the
report of natives, and had not been witnessed by the narrators. Count
Langsdorff, in his _Expedition into the Interior of Brazil_, states
that he totally disbelieved the story. I found the circumstance to be
quite a novelty to the residents hereabout. The Mygales are quite
common insects: some species make their cells under stones, others form
artistical tunnels in the earth, and some build their dens in the
thatch of houses. The natives call them Aranhas carangueijeiras, or
crab-spiders. The hairs with which they are clothed come off when
touched, and cause a peculiar and almost maddening irritation. The
first specimen that I killed and prepared was handled incautiously, and
I suffered terribly for three days afterwards. I think this is not
owing to any poisonous quality residing in the hairs, but to their
being short and hard, and thus getting into the fine creases of the
skin. Some Mygales are of immense size. One day I saw the children
belonging to an Indian family, who collected for me with one of these
monsters secured by a cord round its waist, by which they were leading
it about the house as they would a dog.
Bird-killing spider (Mygale avicularia) attacking finches.
The only monkeys I observed at Cameta were the Couxio (Pithecia
Satanas)—a large species, clothed with long brownish-black hair—and the
tiny Midas argentatus. The Couxio has a thick bushy tail, and the hair
of the head, which looks as if it had been carefully combed, sits on it
like a wig. It inhabits only the most retired parts of the forest, on
the terra firma, and I observed nothing of its habits. The little Midas
argentatus is one of the rarest of the American monkeys; indeed, I have
not heard of its being found anywhere except near Cametá, where I once
saw three individuals, looking like so many white kittens, running
along a branch in a cacao grove; in their motions, they resembled
precisely the Midas ursulus already described. I saw afterwards a pet
animal of this species, and heard that there were many so kept, and
that they were esteemed as great treasures. The one mentioned was
full-grown, although it measured only seven inches in length of body.
It was covered with long, white, silky hairs, the tail being blackish,
and the face nearly naked and flesh-coloured. It was a most timid and
sensitive little thing. The woman who owned it carried it constantly in
her bosom, and no money would induce her to part with her pet. She
called it Mico. It fed from her mouth and allowed her to fondle it
freely, but the nervous little creature would not permit strangers to
touch it. If any one attempted to do so, it shrank back, the whole body
trembling with fear, and its teeth chattered whilst it uttered its
tremulous, frightened tones. The expression of its features was like
that of its more robust brother, Midas ursulus; the eyes, which were
black, were full of curiosity and mistrust, and were always kept fixed
upon the person who attempted to advance towards it.
In the orange groves and other parts, humming-birds were plentiful, but
I did not notice more than three species. I saw one day a little pigmy
belonging to the genus Phæthornis in the act of washing itself in a
brook; perched on a thin branch, one end of which was under water. It
dipped itself, then fluttered its wings and pruned its feathers, and
seemed thoroughly to enjoy itself alone in the shady nook which it had
chosen—a place overshadowed by broad leaves of ferns and Heliconiæ. I
thought, as I watched it, that there was no need for poets to invent
elves and gnomes whilst Nature furnishes us with such marvellous little
sprites ready at hand.
My return-journey to Pará afforded many incidents characteristic of
Amazonian travelling. I left Cametá on the 16th of July. My luggage was
embarked in the morning in the _ Santa Rosa_, a vessel of the kind
called cuberta, or covered canoe. The cuberta is very much used on
these rivers. It is not decked, but the sides forward are raised and
arched over so as to admit of cargo being piled high above the
water-line. At the stern is a neat square cabin, also raised, and
between the cabin and covered forepart is a narrow piece decked over,
on which are placed the cooking arrangements. This is called the
tombadilha or quarterdeck, and when the canoe is heavily laden, it goes
underwater as the vessel heels over to the wind. There are two masts,
rigged with fore and aft sails. The foremast has often besides a main
and top sail. The forepart is planked over at the top, and on this
raised deck the crew work the vessel, pulling it along, when there is
no wind, by means of the long oars already described.
As I have just said, my luggage was embarked in the morning. I was
informed that we should start with the ebb-tide in the afternoon; so I
thought I should have time to pay my respects to Dr. Angelo and other
friends, whose extreme courtesy and goodness had made my residence at
Cametá so agreeable. After dinner the guests, according to custom at
the house of the Correias, walked into the cool verandah which
overlooks the river; and there we saw the _Santa Rosa_, a mere speck in
the offing miles away, tacking down river with a fine breeze. I was now
in a fix, for it would be useless attempting to overtake the cuberta,
and besides the sea ran too high for any montaria. I was then told that
I ought to have been aboard hours before the time fixed for starting,
because when a breeze springs up, vessels start before the tide turns;
the last hour of the flood not being very strong. All my precious
collections, my clothes, and other necessaries were on board, and it
was indispensable that I should be at Pará when the things were
disembarked. I tried to hire a montaria and men, but was told that it
would be madness to cross the river in a small boat with this breeze.
On going to Senhor Laroque, another of my Cametá friends, I was
relieved of my embarrassment, for I found there an English gentleman,
Mr. Patchett of Pernambuco, who was visiting Pará and its neighbourhood
on his way to England, and who, as he was going back to Pará in a small
boat with four paddles, which would start at midnight, kindly offered
me a passage. The evening from seven to ten o’clock was very stormy.
About seven, the night became intensely dark, and a terrific squall of
wind burst forth, which made the loose tiles fly over the housetops; to
this succeeded lightning and stupendous claps of thunder, both nearly
simultaneous. We had had several of these short and sharp storms during
the past month. At midnight, when we embarked, all was as calm as
though a ruffle had never disturbed air, forest, or river. The boat
sped along like an arrow to the rhythmic paddling of the four stout
youths we had with us, who enlivened the passage with their wild songs.
Mr. Patchett and I tried to get a little sleep, but the cabin was so
small and encumbered with boxes placed at all sorts of angles, that we
found sleep impossible. I was just dozing when the day dawned, and, on
awakening, the first object I saw was the _Santa Rosa_, at anchor under
a green island in mid-river. I preferred to make the remainder of the
voyage in company of my collections, so bade Mr. Patchett good-day. The
owner of the _Santa Rosa_, Senhor Jacinto Machado, whom I had not seen
before, received me aboard, and apologised for having started without
me. He was a white man, a planter, and was now taking his year’s
production of cacao, about twenty tons, to Pará. The canoe was very
heavily laden, and I was rather alarmed to see that it was leaking at
all points. The crew were all in the water diving about to feel for the
holes, which they stopped with pieces of ray and clay, and an old negro
was baling the water out of the hold. This was a pleasant prospect for
a three-day voyage! Senhor Machado treated it as the most ordinary
incident possible: “It was always likely to leak, for it was an old
vessel that had been left as worthless high and dry on the beach, and
he had bought it very cheap.”
When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey and at night
reached the mouth of the Anapú. I wrapped myself in an old sail, and
fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day, we threaded the
Igarapé-mirim, and on the 19th descended the Mojú. Senhor Machado and I
by this time had become very good friends. At every interesting spot on
the banks of the Mojú, he manned the small boat and took me ashore.
There are many large houses on this river belonging to what were
formerly large and flourishing plantations, but which, since the
Revolution of 1835-6, had been suffered to go to decay. Two of the
largest buildings were constructed by the Jesuits in the early part of
the last century. We were told that there were formerly eleven large
sugar mills on the banks of the Mojú, whilst now there are only three.
At Burujúba, there is a large monastery in a state of ruin; part of the
edifice, however, was still inhabited by a Brazilian family. The walls
are four feet in thickness. The long dark corridors and gloomy
cloisters struck me as very inappropriate in the midst of this young
and radiant nature. They would be better if placed on some barren moor
in Northern Europe than here in the midst of perpetual summer. The next
turn in the river below Burujúba brought the city of Pará into view.
The wind was now against us, and we were obliged to tack about. Towards
evening, it began to blow stiffly, the vessel heeled over very much,
and Senhor Machado, for the first time, trembled for the safety of his
cargo; the leaks burst out afresh when we were yet two miles from the
shore. He ordered another sail to be hoisted in order to run more
quickly into port, but soon afterwards an extra puff of wind came, and
the old boat lurched alarmingly, the rigging gave way, and down fell
boom and sail with a crash, encumbering us with the wreck. We were then
obliged to have recourse to oars; and as soon as we were near the land,
fearing that the crazy vessel would sink before reaching port, I begged
Senhor Machado to send me ashore in the boat with the more precious
portion of my collections.