keeping the poisoned arrows, or by not knowing how to use them, or by
trying inferior poison. If the arrows are not kept dry the poison loses
its strength, and in wet or damp weather it turns mouldy and becomes
quite soft. In shooting an arrow in this state, upon examining the
place where it has entered, it will be observed that, though the arrow
has penetrated deep into the flesh, still by far the greatest part of
the poison has shrunk back, and thus, instead of entering with the
arrow, it has remained collected at the mouth of the wound. In this
case the arrow might as well have not been poisoned. Probably it was to
this that a gentleman, some time ago, owed his disappointment when he
tried the poison on a horse in the town of Stabroek, the capital of
Demerara; the horse never betrayed the least symptom of being affected
by it.
Wishful to obtain the best information concerning this poison, and as
repeated inquiries, in lieu of dissipating the surrounding shade, did
but tend more and more to darken the little light that existed, I
determined to penetrate into the country where the poisonous
ingredients grow, where this pernicious composition is prepared and
where it is constantly used. Success attended the adventure, and the
information acquired made amends for one hundred and twenty days passed
in the solitudes of Guiana, and afforded a balm to the wounds and
bruises which every traveller must expect to receive who wanders
through a thorny and obstructed path.
Thou must not, courteous reader, expect a dissertation on the manner in
which the wourali poison operates on the system: a treatise has been
already written on the subject, and, after all, there is probably still
reason to doubt. It is supposed to affect the nervous system, and thus
destroy the vital functions; it is also said to be perfectly harmless
provided it does not touch the blood. However, this is certain: when a
sufficient quantity of it enters the blood, death is the inevitable
consequence; but there is no alteration in the colour of the blood, and
both the blood and flesh may be eaten with safety.
All that thou wilt find here is a concise, unadorned account of the
wourali poison. It may be of service to thee some time or other
shouldst thou ever travel through the wilds where it is used. Neither
attribute to cruelty, nor to a want of feeling for the sufferings of
the inferior animals, the ensuing experiments. The larger animals were
destroyed in order to have proof positive of the strength of a poison
which hath hitherto been doubted, and the smaller ones were killed with
the hope of substantiating that which has commonly been supposed to be
an antidote.
It makes a pitying heart ache to see a poor creature in distress and
pain; and too often has the compassionate traveller occasion to heave a
sigh as he journeys on. However, here, though the kind-hearted will be
sorry to read of an unoffending animal doomed to death in order to
satisfy a doubt, still it will be a relief to know that the victim was
not tortured. The wourali poison destroys life's action so gently that
the victim appears to be in no pain whatever; and probably, were the
truth known, it feels none, saving the momentary smart at the time the
arrow enters.
A day or two before the Macoushi Indian prepares his poison he goes
into the forest in quest of the ingredients. A vine grows in these
wilds which is called wourali. It is from this that the poison takes
its name, and it is the principal ingredient. When he has procured
enough of this he digs up a root of a very bitter taste, ties them
together, and then looks about for two kinds of bulbous plants which
contain a green and glutinous juice. He fills a little quake which he
carries on his back with the stalks of these; and lastly ranges up and
down till he finds two species of ants. One of them is very large and
black, and so venomous that its sting produces a fever: it is most
commonly to be met with on the ground. The other is a little red ant
which stings like a nettle, and generally has its nest under the leaf
of a shrub. After obtaining these he has no more need to range the
forest.
A quantity of the strongest Indian pepper is used, but this he has
already planted round his hut. The pounded fangs of the labarri snake
and those of the counacouchi are likewise added. These he commonly has
in store, for when he kills a snake he generally extracts the fangs and
keeps them by him.
Having thus found the necessary ingredients, he scrapes the wourali
vine and bitter root into thin shavings and puts them into a kind of
colander made of leaves. This he holds over an earthen pot, and pours
water on the shavings: the liquor which comes through has the
appearance of coffee. When a sufficient quantity has been procured the
shavings are thrown aside. He then bruises the bulbous stalks and
squeezes a proportionate quantity of their juice through his hands into
the pot. Lastly the snakes' fangs, ants and pepper are bruised and
thrown into it. It is then placed on a slow fire, and as it boils more
of the juice of the wourali is added, according as it may be found
necessary, and the scum is taken off with a leaf: it remains on the
fire till reduced to a thick syrup of a deep brown colour. As soon as
it has arrived at this state a few arrows are poisoned with it, to try
its strength. If it answer the expectations it is poured out into a
calabash, or little pot of Indian manufacture, which is carefully
covered with a couple of leaves, and over them a piece of deer's skin
tied round with a cord. They keep it in the most dry part of the hut,
and from time to time suspend it over the fire to counteract the
effects of dampness.
The act of preparing this poison is not considered as a common one: the
savage may shape his bow, fasten the barb on the point of his arrow and
make his other implements of destruction either lying in his hammock or
in the midst of his family; but if he has to prepare the wourali
poison, many precautions are supposed to be necessary.
The women and young girls are not allowed to be present, lest the
Yabahou, or evil spirit, should do them harm. The shed under which it
has been boiled is pronounced polluted, and abandoned ever after. He
who makes the poison must eat nothing that morning, and must continue
fasting as long as the operation lasts. The pot in which it is boiled
must be a new one, and must never have held anything before, otherwise
the poison would be deficient in strength: add to this that the
operator must take particular care not to expose himself to the vapour
which arises from it while on the fire.
Though this and other precautions are taken, such as frequently washing
the face and hands, still the Indians think that it affects the health;
and the operator either is, or, what is more probable, supposes himself
to be, sick for some days after.
Thus it appears that the making the wourali poison is considered as a
gloomy and mysterious operation; and it would seem that they imagine it
affects others as well as him who boils it, for an Indian agreed one
evening to make some for me, but the next morning he declined having
anything to do with it, alleging that his wife was with child!
Here it might be asked, are all the ingredients just mentioned
necessary in order to produce the wourali poison? Though our opinions
and conjectures may militate against the absolute necessity of some of
them, still it would be hardly fair to pronounce them added by the hand
of superstition till proof positive can be obtained.
We might argue on the subject, and by bringing forward instances of
Indian superstition draw our conclusion by inference, and still remain
in doubt on this head. You know superstition to be the offspring of
ignorance, and of course that it takes up its abode amongst the rudest
tribes of uncivilised man. It even too often resides with man in his
more enlightened state.
The Augustan age furnishes numerous examples. A bone snatched from the
jaws of a fasting bitch, and a feather from the wing of a
night-owl--"ossa ab ore rapta jejunæ canis, plumamque nocturnæ
strigis"--were necessary for Canidia's incantations. And in after-times
Parson Evans, the Welshman, was treated most ungenteelly by an enraged
spirit solely because he had forgotten a fumigation in his witch-work.
If, then, enlightened man lets his better sense give way, and believes,
or allows himself to be persuaded, that certain substances and actions,
in reality of no avail, possess a virtue which renders them useful in
producing the wished-for effect, may not the wild, untaught,
unenlightened savage of Guiana add an ingredient which, on account of
the harm it does him, he fancies may be useful to the perfection of his
poison, though in fact it be of no use at all? If a bone snatched from
the jaws of a fasting bitch be thought necessary in incantation; or if
witchcraft have recourse to the raiment of the owl because it resorts
to the tombs and mausoleums of the dead and wails and hovers about at
the time that the rest of animated nature sleeps; certainly the savage
may imagine that the ants, whose sting causes a fever, and the teeth of
the labarri and counacouchi snakes, which convey death in a very short
space of time, are essentially necessary in the composition of his
poison; and being once impressed with this idea, he will add them every
time he makes the poison and transmit the absolute use of them to his
posterity. The question to be answered seems not to be if it is natural
for the Indians to mix these ingredients, but if they are essential to
make the poison.
So much for the preparing of this vegetable essence: terrible importer
of death, into whatever animal it enters. Let us now see how it is
used; let us examine the weapons which bear it to its destination, and
take a view of the poor victim from the time he receives his wound till
death comes to his relief.
When a native of Macoushia goes in quest of feathered game or other
birds he seldom carries his bow and arrows. It is the blow-pipe he then
uses. This extraordinary tube of death is, perhaps, one of the greatest
natural curiosities of Guiana. It is not found in the country of the
Macoushi. Those Indians tell you that it grows to the south-west of
them, in the wilds which extend betwixt them and the Rio Negro. The
reed must grow to an amazing length, as the part the Indians use is
from ten to eleven feet long, and no tapering can be perceived in it,
one end being as thick as the other. It is of a bright yellow colour,
perfectly smooth both inside and out. It grows hollow, nor is there the
least appearance of a knot or joint throughout the whole extent. The
natives call it ourah. This of itself is too slender to answer the end
of a blow-pipe, but there is a species of palma, larger and stronger,
and common in Guiana, and this the Indians make use of as a case in
which they put the ourah. It is brown, susceptible of a fine polish,
and appears as if it had joints five or six inches from each other. It
is called samourah, and the pulp inside is easily extracted by steeping
it for a few days in water.
Thus the ourah and samourah, one within the other, form the blow-pipe
of Guiana. The end which is applied to the mouth is tied round with a
small silk-grass cord to prevent its splitting, and the other end,
which is apt to strike against the ground, is secured by the seed of
the acuero fruit cut horizontally through the middle, with a hole made
in the end through which is put the extremity of the blow-pipe. It is
fastened on with string on the outside, and the inside is filled up
with wild-bees' wax.
The arrow is from nine to ten inches long. It is made out of the leaf
of a species of palm-tree called coucourite, hard and brittle, and
pointed as sharp as a needle. About an inch of the pointed end is
poisoned. The other end is burnt to make it still harder, and wild
cotton is put round it for about an inch and a half. It requires
considerable practice to put on this cotton well. It must just be large
enough to fit the hollow of the tube and taper off to nothing
downwards. They tie it on with a thread of the silk-grass to prevent
its slipping off the arrow.
The Indians have shown ingenuity in making a quiver to hold the arrows.
It will contain from five to six hundred. It is generally from twelve
to fourteen inches long, and in shape resembles a dice-box used at
backgammon. The inside is prettily done in basket-work with wood not
unlike bamboo, and the outside has a coat of wax. The cover is all of
one piece formed out of the skin of the tapir. Round the centre there
is fastened a loop large enough to admit the arm and shoulder, from
which it hangs when used. To the rim is tied a little bunch of
silk-grass and half of the jaw-bone of the fish called pirai, with
which the Indian scrapes the point of his arrow.
Before he puts the arrows into the quiver he links them together by two
strings of cotton, one string at each end, and then folds them round a
stick which is nearly the length of the quiver. The end of the stick,
which is uppermost, is guarded by two little pieces of wood crosswise,
with a hoop round their extremities, which appears something like a
wheel, and this saves the hand from being wounded when the quiver is
reversed in order to let the bunch of arrows drop out.
There is also attached to the quiver a little kind of basket to hold
the wild cotton which is put on the blunt end of the arrow. With a
quiver of poisoned arrows slung over his shoulder, and with his
blow-pipe in his hand, in the same position as a soldier carries his
musket, see the Macoushi Indian advancing towards the forest in quest
of powises, maroudis, waracabas and other feathered game.
These generally sit high up in the tall and tufted trees, but still are
not out of the Indian's reach, for his blow-pipe, at its greatest
elevation, will send an arrow three hundred feet. Silent as midnight he
steals under them, and so cautiously does he tread the ground that the
fallen leaves rustle not beneath his feet. His ears are open to the
least sound, while his eye, keen as that of the lynx, is employed in
finding out the game in the thickest shade. Often he imitates their
cry, and decoys them from tree to tree, till they are within range of
his tube. Then taking a poisoned arrow from his quiver, he puts it in
the blow-pipe and collects his breath for the fatal puff.
About two feet from the end through which he blows there are fastened
two teeth of the acouri, and these serve him for a sight. Silent and
swift the arrow flies, and seldom fails to pierce the object at which
it is sent. Sometimes the wounded bird remains in the same tree where
it was shot, and in three minutes falls down at the Indian's feet.
Should he take wing his flight is of short duration, and the Indian,
following the direction he has gone, is sure to find him dead.
It is natural to imagine that when a slight wound only is inflicted the
game will make its escape. Far otherwise; the wourali poison almost
instantaneously mixes with blood or water, so that if you wet your
finger and dash it along the poisoned arrow in the quickest manner
possible you are sure to carry off some of the poison. Though three
minutes generally elapse before the convulsions come on in the wounded
bird, still a stupor evidently takes place sooner, and this stupor
manifests itself by an apparent unwillingness in the bird to move. This
was very visible in a dying fowl.
Having procured a healthy full-grown one, a short piece of a poisoned
blow-pipe arrow was broken off and run up into its thigh, as near as
possible betwixt the skin and the flesh, in order that it might not be
incommoded by the wound. For the first minute it walked about, but
walked very slowly, and did not appear the least agitated. During the
second minute it stood still, and began to peck the ground; and ere
half another had elapsed it frequently opened and shut its mouth. The
tail had now dropped and the wings almost touched the ground. By the
termination of the third minute it had sat down, scarce able to support
its head, which nodded, and then recovered itself, and then nodded
again, lower and lower every time, like that of a weary traveller
slumbering in an erect position; the eyes alternately open and shut.
The fourth minute brought on convulsions, and life and the fifth
terminated together.
The flesh of the game is not in the least injured by the poison, nor
does it appear to corrupt sooner than that killed by the gun or knife.
The body of this fowl was kept for sixteen hours in a climate damp and
rainy, and within seven degrees of the equator, at the end of which
time it had contracted no bad smell whatever and there were no symptoms
of putrefaction, saving that just round the wound the flesh appeared
somewhat discoloured.
The Indian, on his return home, carefully suspends his blow-pipe from
the top of his spiral roof, seldom placing it in an oblique position,
lest it should receive a cast.
Here let the blow-pipe remain suspended while you take a view of the
arms which are made to slay the larger beasts of the forest.
When the Indian intends to chase the peccari, or surprise the deer, or
rouse the tapir from his marshy retreat, he carries his bow and arrows,
which are very different from the weapons already described.
The bow is generally from six to seven feet long and strung with a cord
spun out of the silk-grass. The forests of Guiana furnish many species
of hard wood, tough and elastic, out of which beautiful and excellent
bows are formed.
The arrows are from four to five feet in length, made of a yellow reed
without a knot or joint. It is found in great plenty up and down
throughout Guiana. A piece of hard wood about nine inches long is
inserted into the end of the reed, and fastened with cotton well waxed.
A square hole an inch deep is then made in the end of this piece of
hard wood, done tight round with cotton to keep it from splitting. Into
this square hole is fitted a spike of coucourite-wood, poisoned, and
which may be kept there or taken out at pleasure. A joint of bamboo,
about as thick as your finger, is fitted on over the poisoned spike to
prevent accidents and defend it from the rain, and is taken off when
the arrow is about to be used. Lastly, two feathers are fastened the
other end of the reed to steady it in its flight.
Besides his bow and arrows, the Indian carries a little box made of
bamboo which holds a dozen or fifteen poisoned spikes six inches long.
They are poisoned in the following manner: a small piece of wood is
dipped in the poison, and with this they give the spike a first coat.
It is then exposed to the sun or fire. After it is dry it receives
another coat, and then dried again; after this a third coat, and
sometimes a fourth.
They take great care to put the poison on thicker at the middle than at
the sides, by which means the spike retains the shape of a two-edged
sword. It is rather a tedious operation to make one of these arrows
complete, and as the Indian is not famed for industry, except when
pressed by hunger, he has hit upon a plan of preserving his arrows
which deserves notice.
About a quarter of an inch above the part where the coucourite spike is
fixed into the square hole he cuts it half through, and thus, when it
has entered the animal, the weight of the arrow causes it to break off
there, by which means the arrow falls to the ground uninjured, so that,
should this be the only arrow he happens to have with him and should
another shot immediately occur, he has only to take another poisoned
spike out of his little bamboo box, fit it on its arrow, and send it to
its destination.
Thus armed with deadly poison, and hungry as the hyæna, he ranges
through the forest in quest of the wild-beasts' track. No hound can act
a surer part. Without clothes to fetter him or shoes to bind his feet,
he observes the footsteps of the game where an European eye could not
discern the smallest vestige. He pursues it through all its turns and
windings with astonishing perseverance, and success generally crowns
his efforts. The animal, after receiving the poisoned arrow, seldom
retreats two hundred paces before it drops.
In passing over-land from the Essequibo to the Demerara we fell in with
a herd of wild hogs. Though encumbered with baggage and fatigued with a
hard day's walk, an Indian got his bow ready and let fly a poisoned
arrow at one of them. It entered the cheek-bone and broke off. The wild
hog was found quite dead about one hundred and seventy paces from the
place where he had been shot. He afforded us an excellent and wholesome
supper.
Thus the savage of Guiana, independent of the common weapons of
destruction, has it in his power to prepare a poison by which he can
generally ensure to himself a supply of animal food: and the food so
destroyed imbibes no deleterious qualities. Nature has been bountiful
to him. She has not only ordered poisonous herbs and roots to grow in
the unbounded forests through which he strays, but has also furnished
an excellent reed for his arrows, and another still more singular for
his blow-pipe, and planted trees of an amazing hard, tough and elastic
texture out of which he forms his bows. And in order that nothing might
be wanting, she has superadded a tree which yields him a fine wax and
disseminated up and down a plant not unlike that of the pine-apple
which affords him capital bow-strings.
Having now followed the Indian in the chase and described the poison,
let us take a nearer view of its action and observe a large animal
expiring under the weight of its baneful virulence.
Many have doubted the strength of the wourali poison. Should they ever
by chance read what follows, probably their doubts on that score will
be settled for ever.
In the former experiment on the dog some faint resistance on the part
of Nature was observed, as if existence struggled for superiority, but
in the following instance of the sloth life sunk in death without the
least apparent contention, without a cry, without a struggle and
without a groan. This was an ai, or three-toed sloth. It was in the
possession of a gentleman who was collecting curiosities. He wished to
have it killed in order to preserve the skin, and the wourali poison
was resorted to as the easiest death.
Of all animals, not even the toad and tortoise excepted, this poor
ill-formed creature is the most tenacious of life. It exists long after
it has received wounds which would have destroyed any other animal, and
it may be said, on seeing a mortally-wounded sloth, that life disputes
with death every inch of flesh in its body.
The ai was wounded in the leg, and put down on the floor about two feet
from the table; it contrived to reach the leg of the table, and
fastened itself on it, as if wishful to ascend. But this was its last
advancing step: life was ebbing fast though imperceptibly, nor could
this singular production of Nature, which has been formed of a texture
to resist death in a thousand shapes, make any stand against the
wourali poison.
First one fore-leg let go its hold, and dropped down motionless by its
side; the other gradually did the same. The fore-legs having now lost
their strength, the sloth slowly doubled its body and placed its head
betwixt its hind-legs, which still adhered to the table; but when the
poison had affected these also it sunk to the ground, but sunk so
gently that you could not distinguish the movement from an ordinary
motion, and had you been ignorant that it was wounded with a poisoned
arrow you would never have suspected that it was dying. Its mouth was
shut, nor had any froth or saliva collected there.
There was no _subsultus tendinum_ or any visible alteration in its
breathing. During the tenth minute from the time it was wounded it
stirred, and that was all; and the minute after life's last spark went
out. From the time the poison began to operate you would have
conjectured that sleep was overpowering it, and you would have
exclaimed: "Pressitque jacentem, dulcis et alta quies, placidæque
simillima morti."
There are now two positive proofs of the effect of this fatal poison:
viz. the death of the dog and that of the sloth. But still these
animals were nothing remarkable for size, and the strength of the
poison in large animals might yet be doubted were it not for what
follows.
A large well-fed ox, from nine hundred to a thousand pounds weight, was
tied to a stake by a rope sufficiently strong to allow him to move to
and fro. Having no large coucourite spikes at hand, it was judged
necessary, on account of his superior size, to put three wild-hog
arrows into him: one was sent into each thigh just above the hock in
order to avoid wounding a vital part, and the third was shot traversely
into the extremity of the nostril.