he would fall, the ox set himself firmly on his legs and remained quite
still in the same place till about the fourteenth minute, when he
smelled the ground and appeared as if inclined to walk. He advanced a
pace or two, staggered and fell, and remained extended on his side,
with his head on the ground. His eye, a few minutes ago so bright and
lively, now became fixed and dim, and though you put your hand close to
it, as if to give him a blow there, he never closed his eyelid.
His legs were convulsed and his head from time to time started
involuntarily, but he never showed the least desire to raise it from
the ground. He breathed hard and emitted foam from his mouth. The
startings, or _subsultus tendinum_, now became gradually weaker and
weaker; his hinder parts were fixed in death, and in a minute or two
more his head and fore-legs ceased to stir.
Nothing now remained to show that life was still within him except that
his heart faintly beat and fluttered at intervals. In five and twenty
minutes from the time of his being wounded he was quite dead. His flesh
was very sweet and savoury at dinner.
On taking a retrospective view of the two different kinds of poisoned
arrows, and the animals destroyed by them, it would appear that the
quantity of poison must be proportioned to the animal, and thus those
probably labour under an error who imagine that the smallest particle
of it introduced into the blood has almost instantaneous effects.
Make an estimate of the difference in size betwixt the fowl and the ox,
and then weigh a sufficient quantity of poison for a blow-pipe arrow,
with which the fowl was killed, and weigh also enough poison for three
wild-hog arrows, which destroyed the ox, and it will appear that the
fowl received much more poison in proportion than the ox. Hence the
cause why the fowl died in five minutes and the ox in five and twenty.
Indeed, were it the case that the smallest particle of it introduced
into the blood has almost instantaneous effects, the Indian would not
find it necessary to make the large arrow: that of the blow-pipe is
much easier made and requires less poison.
And now for the antidotes, or rather the supposed antidotes. The
Indians tell you, that if the wounded animal be held for a considerable
time up to the mouth in water the poison will not prove fatal; also
that the juice of the sugar-cane poured down the throat will counteract
the effects of it. These antidotes were fairly tried upon full-grown
healthy fowls, but they all died, as though no steps had been taken to
preserve their lives. Rum was recommended, and given to another, but
with as little success.
It is supposed by some that wind introduced into the lungs by means of
a small pair of bellows would revive the poisoned patient, provided the
operation be continued for a sufficient length of time. It may be so;
but this is a difficult and a tedious mode of cure, and he who is
wounded in the forest, far away from his friends, or in the hut of the
savages, stands but a poor chance of being saved by it.
Had the Indians a sure antidote, it is likely they would carry it about
with them or resort to it immediately after being wounded, if at hand;
and their confidence in its efficacy would greatly diminish the horror
they betray when you point a poisoned arrow at them.
One day, while we were eating a red monkey erroneously called the
baboon, in Demerara, an Arowack Indian told an affecting story of what
happened to a comrade of his. He was present at his death. As it did
not interest this Indian in any point to tell a falsehood, it is very
probable that his account was a true one. If so, it appears that there
is no certain antidote, or at least an antidote that could be resorted
to in a case of urgent need, for the Indian gave up all thoughts of
life as soon as he was wounded.
The Arowack Indian said it was but four years ago that he and his
companion were ranging in the forest in quest of game. His companion
took a poisoned arrow and sent it at a red monkey in a tree above him.
It was nearly a perpendicular shot. The arrow missed the monkey, and in
the descent struck him in the arm a little above the elbow. He was
convinced it was all over with him. "I shall never," said he to his
companion, in a faltering voice, and looking at his bow as he said it,
"I shall never," said he, "bend this bow again." And having said that,
he took off his little bamboo poison-box, which hung across his
shoulder, and putting it together with his bow and arrows on the
ground, he laid himself down close by them, bid his companion farewell,
and never spoke more.
He who is unfortunate enough to be wounded by a poisoned arrow from
Macoushia had better not depend upon the common antidotes for a cure.
Many who have been in Guiana will recommend immediate immersion in
water, or to take the juice of the sugar-cane, or to fill the mouth
full of salt; and they recommend these antidotes because they have got
them from the Indians. But were you to ask them if they ever saw these
antidotes used with success, it is ten to one their answer would be in
the negative.
Wherefore let him reject these antidotes as unprofitable and of no
avail. He has got an active and deadly foe within him which, like
Shakespeare's fell Serjeant Death, is strict in his arrest, and will
allow him but little time--very, very little time. In a few minutes he
will be numbered with the dead. Life ought, if possible, to be
preserved, be the expense ever so great. Should the part affected admit
of it, let a ligature be tied tight round the wound, and have immediate
recourse to the knife:
Continuo, culpam ferro compesce, priusquam
Dira per infaustum serpant contagia corpus.
And now, kind reader, it is time to bid thee farewell. The two ends
proposed have been obtained. The Portuguese inland frontier-fort has
been reached and the Macoushi wourali poison acquired. The account of
this excursion through the interior of Guiana has been submitted to thy
perusal in order to induce thy abler genius to undertake a more
extensive one. If any difficulties have arisen, or fevers come on, they
have been caused by the periodical rains which fall in torrents as the
sun approaches the Tropic of Cancer. In dry weather there would be no
difficulties or sickness.
Amongst the many satisfactory conclusions which thou wouldest be able
to draw during the journey there is one which, perhaps, would please
thee not a little, and that is with regard to dogs. Many a time, no
doubt, thou hast heard it hotly disputed that dogs existed in Guiana
previously to the arrival of the Spaniards in those parts. Whatever the
Spaniards introduced, and which bore no resemblance to anything the
Indians had been accustomed to see, retains its Spanish name to this
day.
Thus the Warow, the Arowack, the Acoway, the Macoushi and Carib tribes
call a hat _sombrero_; a shirt or any kind of cloth _camisa_; a shoe
_zapalo_; a letter _carta_; a fowl _gallina_; gunpowder _colvora_
(Spanish _polvora_); ammunition _bala_; a cow _vaca_; and a dog _perro_.
This argues strongly against the existence of dogs in Guiana before it
was discovered by the Spaniards, and probably may be of use to thee in
thy next canine dispute.
In a political point of view this country presents a large field for
speculation. A few years ago there was but little inducement for any
Englishman to explore the interior of these rich and fine colonies, as
the British Government did not consider them worth holding at the Peace
of Amiens. Since that period their mother-country has been blotted out
from the list of nations, and America has unfolded a new sheet of
politics. On one side the Crown of Braganza, attacked by an ambitious
chieftain, has fled from the palace of its ancestors, and now seems
fixed on the banks of the Janeiro. Cayenne has yielded to its arms, La
Plata has raised the standard of independence and thinks itself
sufficiently strong to obtain a Government of its own. On the other
side the Caraccas are in open revolt, and should Santa Fé join them in
good earnest they may form a powerful association.
Thus on each side of _ci-devant_ Dutch Guiana most unexpected and
astonishing changes have taken place. Will they raise or lower it in
the scale of estimation at the Court of St. James's? Will they be of
benefit to these grand and extensive colonies? Colonies enjoying
perpetual summer. Colonies of the richest soil. Colonies containing
within themselves everything necessary for their support. Colonies, in
fine, so varied in their quality and situation as to be capable of
bringing to perfection every tropical production, and only want the
support of Government, and an enlightened governor, to render them as
fine as the finest portions of the equatorial regions. Kind reader,
fare thee well!
* * * * *
_Letter to the Portuguese Commander_
MUY SEÑOR,
Como no tengo el honor, de ser conocido de VM. lo pienso mejor, y mas
decoroso, quedarme aqui, hastaque huviere recibido su respuesta.
Haviendo caminado hasta la choza, adonde estoi, no quisiere volverme,
antes de haver visto la fortaleza de los Portugueses; y pido licencia
de VM. para que me adelante. Honradissimos son mis motivos, ni tengo
proyecto ninguno, o de comercio, o de la soldadesca, no siendo yo, o
comerciante, o oficial. Hidalgo catolico soy, de hacienda in
Ynglatierra, y muchos años de mi vida he pasado en caminar.
Ultimamente, de Demeraria vengo, la quai dexé el 5 dia de Abril, para
ver este hermoso pais, y coger unas curiosidades, especialmente, el
veneno, que se llama wourali. Las mas recentes noticias que tenian en
Demeraria, antes di mi salida, eran medias tristes, medias alegres.
Tristes digo, viendo que Valencia ha caido en poder del enemigo comun,
y el General Blake, y sus valientes tropas quedan prisioneros de
guerra. Alegres, al contrario, porque Milord Wellington se ha apoderado
de Ciudad Rodrigo. A pesar de la caida de Valencia, parece claro al
mundo, que las cosas del enemigo, estan andando, de pejor a pejor cada
dia. Nosotros debemos dar gracias al Altissimo, por haver sido servido
dexarnos castigar ultimamente, a los robadores, de sus santas Yglesias.
Se vera VM. que yo no escribo Portugues ni aun lo hablo, pero, haviendo
aprendido el Castellano, no nos faltará medio de communicar y tener
conversacion. Ruego se escuse esta carta escrita sin tinta, porque un
Indio dexo caer mi tintero y quebrose. Dios le dé a VM. muchos años de
salud. Entretanto, tengo el honor de ser
Su mas obedeciente servidor,
CARLOS WATERTON.
* * * * *
REMARKS
Incertus, quo fata ferant, ubi sistere detur.
Kind and gentle reader, if the journey in quest of the wourali poison
has engaged thy attention, probably thou mayest recollect that the
traveller took leave of thee at Fort St. Joachim, on the Rio Branco.
Shouldest thou wish to know what befell him afterwards, excuse the
following uninteresting narrative.
Having had a return of fever, and aware that the farther he advanced
into these wild and lonely regions the less would be the chance of
regaining his health, he gave up all idea of proceeding onwards, and
went slowly back towards the Demerara, nearly by the same route he had
come.
On descending the falls in the Essequibo, which form an oblique line
quite across the river, it was resolved to push through them, the
downward stream being in the canoe's favour. At a little distance from
the place a large tree had fallen into the river, and in the meantime
the canoe was lashed to one of its branches.
The roaring of the water was dreadful: it foamed and dashed over the
rocks with a tremendous spray, like breakers on a lee-shore,
threatening destruction to whatever approached it. You would have
thought, by the confusion it caused in the river and the whirlpools it
made, that Scylla and Charybdis, and their whole progeny, had left the
Mediterranean and come and settled here. The channel was barely twelve
feet wide, and the torrent in rushing down formed traverse furrows
which showed how near the rocks were to the surface.
Nothing could surpass the skill of the Indian who steered the canoe. He
looked steadfastly at it, then at the rocks, then cast an eye on the
channel, and then looked at the canoe again. It was in vain to speak.
The sound was lost in the roar of waters, but his eye showed that he
had already passed it in imagination. He held up his paddle in a
position as much as to say that he would keep exactly amid channel, and
then made a sign to cut the bush-rope that held the canoe to the fallen
tree. The canoe drove down the torrent with inconceivable rapidity. It
did not touch the rocks once all the way. The Indian proved to a
nicety: "medio tutissimus ibis."
Shortly after this it rained almost day and night, the lightning
flashing incessantly and the roar of thunder awful beyond expression.
The fever returned, and pressed so heavy on him that to all appearance
his last day's march was over. However, it abated, his spirits rallied,
and he marched again; and after delays and inconveniences he reached
the house of his worthy friend Mr. Edmonstone, in Mibiri Creek, which
falls into the Demerara. No words of his can do justice to the
hospitality of that gentleman, whose repeated encounters with the
hostile negroes in the forest have been publicly rewarded and will be
remembered in the colony for years to come.
Here he learned that an eruption had taken place in St. Vincent's, and
thus the noise heard in the night of the first of May, which had caused
such terror amongst the Indians and made the garrison at Fort St.
Joachim remain under arms the rest of the night, is accounted for.
After experiencing every kindness and attention from Mr. Edmonstone he
sailed for Granada, and from thence to St. Thomas's, a few days before
poor Captain Peake lost his life on his own quarter-deck bravely
fighting for his country on the coast of Guiana.
At St. Thomas's they show you a tower, a little distance from the town,
which they say formerly belonged to a bucanier chieftain. Probably the
fury of besiegers has reduced it to its present dismantled state. What
still remains of it bears testimony of its former strength and may
brave the attack of time for centuries. You cannot view its ruins
without calling to mind the exploits of those fierce and hardy hunters,
long the terror of the Western world. While you admire their undaunted
courage, you lament that it was often stained with cruelty; while you
extol their scrupulous justice to each other, you will find a want of
it towards the rest of mankind. Often possessed of enormous wealth,
often in extreme poverty, often triumphant on the ocean and often
forced to fly to the forests, their life was an ever-changing scene of
advance and retreat, of glory and disorder, of luxury and famine. Spain
treated them as outlaws and pirates, while other European powers
publicly disowned them. They, on the other hand, maintained that
injustice on the part of Spain first forced them to take up arms in
self-defence, and that, whilst they kept inviolable the laws which they
had framed for their own common benefit and protection, they had a
right to consider as foes those who treated them as outlaws. Under this
impression they drew the sword and rushed on as though in lawful war,
and divided the spoils of victory in the scale of justice.
After leaving St. Thomas's, a severe tertian ague every now and then
kept putting the traveller in mind that his shattered frame, "starting
and shivering in the inconstant blast, meagre and pale, the ghost of
what it was," wanted repairs. Three years elapsed after arriving in
England before the ague took its final leave of him.
During that time, several experiments were made with the wourali
poison. In London an ass was inoculated with it and died in twelve
minutes. The poison was inserted into the leg of another, round which a
bandage had been previously tied a little above the place where the
wourali was introduced. He walked about as usual and ate his food as
though all were right. After an hour had elapsed the bandage was
untied, and ten minutes after death overtook him.
A she-ass received the wourali poison in the shoulder, and died
apparently in ten minutes. An incision was then made in its windpipe
and through it the lungs were regularly inflated for two hours with a
pair of bellows. Suspended animation returned. The ass held up her head
and looked around, but the inflating being discontinued she sunk once
more in apparent death. The artificial breathing was immediately
recommenced, and continued without intermission for two hours more.
This saved the ass from final dissolution: she rose up and walked
about; she seemed neither in agitation nor in pain. The wound through
which the poison entered was healed without difficulty. Her
constitution, however, was so severely affected that it was long a
doubt if ever she would be well again. She looked lean and sickly for
above a year, but began to mend the spring after, and by midsummer
became fat and frisky.
The kind-hearted reader will rejoice on learning that Earl Percy,
pitying her misfortunes, sent her down from London to Walton Hall, near
Wakefield. There she goes by the name of Wouralia. Wouralia shall be
sheltered from the wintry storm; and when summer comes she shall feed
in the finest pasture. No burden shall be placed upon her, and she
shall end her days in peace.
For three revolving autumns, the ague-beaten wanderer never saw without
a sigh the swallow bend her flight towards warmer regions. He wished to
go too, but could not for sickness had enfeebled him, and prudence
pointed out the folly of roving again too soon across the northern
tropic. To be sure, the Continent was now open, and change of air might
prove beneficial, but there was nothing very tempting in a trip across
the Channel, and as for a tour through England!--England has long
ceased to be the land for adventures. Indeed, when good King Arthur
reappears to claim his crown, he will find things strangely altered
here; and may we not look for his coming? for there is written upon his
gravestone:
Hic jacet Arturus, Rex quondam Rexque futurus.
Here Arthur lies, who formerly
Was king--and king again to be.
Don Quixote was always of opinion that this famous king did not die,
but that he was changed into a raven by enchantment and that the
English are momentarily expecting his return. Be this as it may, it is
certain that when he reigned here all was harmony and joy. The browsing
herds passed from vale to vale, the swains sang from the
bluebell-teeming groves, and nymphs, with eglantine and roses in their
neatly-braided hair, went hand in hand to the flowery mead to weave
garlands for their lambkins. If by chance some rude, uncivil fellow
dared to molest them, or attempted to throw thorns in their path, there
was sure to be a knight-errant not far off ready to rush forward in
their defence. But alas! in these degenerate days it is not so. Should
a harmless cottage-maid wander out of the highway to pluck a primrose
or two in the neighbouring field, the haughty owner sternly bids her
retire; and if a pitying swain hasten to escort her back, he is perhaps
seized by the gaunt house-dog ere he reach her!
Æneas's route on the other side of Styx could not have been much worse
than this, though, by his account, when he got back to earth, it
appears that he had fallen in with "Bellua Lernæ, horrendum stridens,
flammisque, armata Chimæra."
Moreover, he had a sibyl to guide his steps; and as such a conductress
nowadays could not be got for love or money, it was judged most prudent
to refrain from sauntering through this land of freedom, and wait with
patience the return of health. At last this long-looked-for,
ever-welcome stranger came.
SECOND JOURNEY
In the year 1816, two days before the vernal equinox, I sailed from
Liverpool for Pernambuco, in the southern hemisphere, on the coast of
Brazil. There is little at this time of the year, in the European part
of the Atlantic, to engage the attention of the naturalist. As you go
down the Channel you see a few divers and gannets. The middle-sized
gulls, with a black spot at the end of the wings, attend you a little
way into the Bay of Biscay. When it blows a hard gale of wind the
stormy petrel makes its appearance. While the sea runs mountains high,
and every wave threatens destruction to the labouring vessel, this
little harbinger of storms is seen enjoying itself, on rapid pinion, up
and down the roaring billows. When the storm is over it appears no
more. It is known to every English sailor by the name of Mother Carey's
chicken. It must have been hatched in Æolus's cave, amongst a clutch of
squalls and tempests, for whenever they get out upon the ocean it
always contrives to be of the party.
Though the calms and storms and adverse winds in these latitudes are
vexatious, still, when you reach the trade-winds, you are amply repaid
for all disappointments and inconveniences. The trade-winds prevail
about thirty degrees on each side of the equator. This part of the
ocean may be called the Elysian Fields of Neptune's empire; and the
torrid zone, notwithstanding Ovid's remark, "non est habitabilis æstu,"
is rendered healthy and pleasant by these gently-blowing breezes. The
ship glides smoothly on, and you soon find yourself within the northern
tropic. When you are on it Cancer is just over your head, and betwixt
him and Capricorn is the high-road of the Zodiac, forty-seven degrees
wide, famous for Phaeton's misadventure. His father begged and
entreated him not to take it into his head to drive parallel to the
five zones, but to mind and keep on the turnpike which runs obliquely
across the equator. "There you will distinctly see," said he, "the ruts
of my chariot wheels, 'manifesta rotæ vestigia cernes.'" "But," added
he, "even suppose you keep on it, and avoid the by-roads, nevertheless,
my dear boy, believe me, you will be most sadly put to your shifts;
'ardua prima via est,' the first part of the road is confoundedly
steep! 'ultima via prona est,' and after that, it is all down-hill!
Moreover, 'per insidias iter est, formasque ferarum,' the road is full
of nooses and bull-dogs, 'Hæmoniosque arcus,' and spring guns, 'sævaque
circuitu, curvantem brachia longo, Scorpio,' and steel traps of
uncommon size and shape." These were nothing in the eyes of Phaeton; go
he would, so off he set, full speed, four in hand. He had a tough drive
of it, and after doing a prodigious deal of mischief, very luckily for
the world he got thrown out of the box, and tumbled into the River Po.
Some of our modern bloods have been shallow enough to try to ape this
poor empty-headed coachman on a little scale, making London their
Zodiac. Well for them if tradesmen's bills and other trivial
perplexities have not caused them to be thrown into the King's Bench.
The productions of the torrid zone are uncommonly grand. Its plains,
its swamps, its savannas and forests abound with the largest serpents
and wild beasts; and its trees are the habitation of the most beautiful
of the feathered race. While the traveller in the Old World is
astonished at the elephant, the tiger, the lion and rhinoceros, he who
wanders through the torrid regions of the New is lost in admiration at
the cotingas, the toucans, the humming-birds and aras.
The ocean likewise swarms with curiosities. Probably the flying-fish
may be considered as one of the most singular. This little scaled
inhabitant of water and air seems to have been more favoured than the
rest of its finny brethren. It can rise out of the waves and on wing
visit the domain of the birds.
After flying two or three hundred yards, the intense heat of the sun
has dried its pellucid wings, and it is obliged to wet them in order to
continue its flight. It just drops into the ocean for a moment, and
then rises again and flies on; and then descends to remoisten them, and
then up again into the air; thus passing its life, sometimes wet,
sometimes dry, sometimes in sunshine, and sometimes in the pale moon's
nightly beam, as pleasure dictates or as need requires. The additional
assistance of wings is not thrown away upon it. It has full occupation
both for fins and wings, as its life is in perpetual danger.
The bonito and albicore chase it day and night, but the dolphin is its
worst and swiftest foe. If it escape into the air, the dolphin pushes
on with proportional velocity beneath, and is ready to snap it up the
moment it descends to wet its wings.