A start made—Canoe heavily laden—San Antonio rapid passed—Slow
progress made—Method of passing over strong currents—The
current of Macacos—The Bay of Theotonio—Canoe nearly swamped in
same—The Falls of Theotonio—Fish at foot of falls—Franciscan
mission to the Pamas—The portage of Theotonio.
On the 24th of April, I woke up all hands at 3 a.m., and we had the
last boxes packed, the fowls caught, put in the coop, and all on board
ready for a start at seven o’clock. On calling over the roll of oarsmen,
or “marineros,” as they are called, we found that a Bolivian boy was
missing, having hid himself in the forest, so as to be left behind; for
there are many of these Indians that are so lazy that they would rather
remain on the Madeira River than undergo the hard work of the ascent of
the rapids on their way to their own country. The canoe was very low down
in the water, the top of the gunwale not being more than three inches
out, and she therefore leaked rather badly round the top seams; but as
the wood swelled from the immersion, the leakage decreased. We took about
an hour and a half to get from the right or eastern bank of the river,
below the rapid of San Antonio, to the other side, where the shortest
land portage for the baggage is found. On the passage across, the canoe
hung several times in the strong current, as the crew were not yet
practised together, and I had a good deal of shouting and encouraging
to do in order to avoid being carried some distance down stream. The
Bolivian Indian’s term for “putting on a spurt” is “churka,” and a good
crew of twelve or fourteen paddles will make even a heavily laden canoe
almost leap in the water when the paddlers “churka” well together. A
Bolivian paddle is oar-shaped, and about four or five feet in length,
by six inches width at the blade; but a Brazilian one is much shorter,
has a crutch-shaped handle and a round blade fifteen or sixteen inches
diameter: both paddles can do excellent work in strong hands. I had to
send back to the other side for a few things that, of course, had been
forgotten, including my two retriever dogs, “Jack” and “Burro,” who got
safely through the journey up the rapids with me, but had some narrow
escapes from the alligators. By the time we got the baggage over the
portage to the upper side of the fall, it commenced to rain heavily,
so the tarpaulins were brought into service, and the night was passed
above the fall, the empty canoes having been hauled up the rapid on the
San Antonio side, and passed across the river above the fall. On the
25th, the cargo was all on board again by 7 a.m., and the ascent of the
river recommenced, much hard work being met with in the frequent strong
currents, or “correntezas.” We stayed for breakfast in an igarapé, or
small stream, opposite the Macacos hut, and in the afternoon passed the
first current of the same name by roping, stopping at dark between the
currents.
Any one who has not travelled in a canoe up stream on a broad and
rapid river like the Madeira, is almost unable to imagine the delays
and vexations caused by the slow progress that is all that can be made.
The canoes must always be kept as close as possible to the bank, for
out in mid-stream the paddles would be quite unable to keep way on the
boat, while near the banks there is generally a little quiet water. When
currents are arrived at that cannot be surmounted without the use of
the cable, roping must be resorted to, and then one can’t do more than
perhaps twenty yards in as many minutes, for the overhanging bushes give
great trouble to keep clear of, while at the same time they are very
serviceable to haul by.
The 26th, Sunday—but not a day of rest, for the men prefer continuing the
journey, and one cannot carry provisions sufficient to allow for one idle
day in seven—we started at 5.30 a.m., after a cup of tea, and soon came
to some very hard work, roping over the second current of Macacos, which
we passed quite through by about 10 a.m. The land hereabouts is rather
hilly on the eastern or left side, the rocks in some places rising twenty
or thirty feet above the water even when the river is full. We arrived at
the cataract of Theotonio about mid-day, after being very nearly swamped
in the rough water below the fall. The river widens out at the foot of
each one of the principal rapids, and in the case of the Theotonio, the
greatest fall on the river, the bay is of very considerable size. The
water here is always in a more or less agitated state, from the effect of
the principal fall, which is about twenty-six feet in height, and when
the wind blows up stream, the waves rise so much that canoes run great
danger of being swamped. The captain of my crew took us out too far in
the centre of the river, as he was anxious to avoid being thrown into
the surf on the bank; but the canoe was so heavily laden that the waves
dashed over the sides, and we ran great danger of swamping. Some of the
crew took fright, and by rising up and ceasing to paddle, endangered
greatly the safety of the canoe, its occupants, and cargo. However, by
encouraging them by words and prompt action in baling out the water that
had entered the canoe, we happily got to the foot of the fall, and hauled
up the canoe on the flat rocks.
The fall of Theotonio is at all times a most majestic one, but is more
especially so at low water, when the full effect of the cataract can
be seen. The river here is probably more than a mile in width, the
fall being divided into three parts by rocky islands. I had previously
visited this fall at a time when the river was almost at its lowest, and
was then able to walk on the uncovered rocks almost to its centre. One
could then stand right in front of the horseshoe fall and thoroughly
enjoy the grand sight of the foaming and splashing waters. Any amount
of fish may be caught in the pools below the fall during the months of
low water, and wandering bands of the savages are then frequently met
with at this rapid. At my first visit the pools were so full of fish,
that some Brazilian soldiers who accompanied me were able to spear,
with the greatest ease, some very large tambaquis. The fish appear to
attempt to ascend the river and get stunned at the foot of the rapid, for
they can be seen in the pools, rolling about rather than swimming in a
natural manner. On the right or western bank of the river, at this fall,
there was, during my time, a mission established by a Franciscan friar,
“Frai Luis Zarraga,” an Italian of good education and most pleasing and
courteous manners. He had at one time as many as 200 savages of the Pama
tribe, that appears to have its hunting grounds between the Madeira and
the Purus Rivers, which, near the Theotonio Fall, are probably not more
than fifty or sixty miles apart. These savages appear to be very mild
and tractable, but the Fraile found it impossible to keep them at the
mission for more than about two to three months at a time; they would
then leave him, promising to return in a certain number of moons. This
wandering custom appears to be a characteristic of all the savage tribes
of the interior of South America, and is doubtless governed or suggested
by the exigencies of hunting. When the river is full, the ravines also
have plenty of water, and the fish and game go up to the sources of
the waters, following the water in its downward retreat during the dry
season; and the savages, who have only their hunting and fishing to
depend upon for food supplies, are thus forced to be almost continually
on the move.
The afternoon of the 26th was occupied in transferring my garitea and
baggage to the upper side of the fall. The portage is about 600 yards
in length, and passes over a rocky hill about fifty feet in height,
the canoe being passed over it on rough rollers made from boughs cut
from the forest near by. The Bolivian merchants, in whose company I had
arranged to make the journey, were waiting at Theotonio for me, and I
very soon saw how useless it would have been to have attempted to have
made the journey alone. These other patrons sent about five and twenty
men to assist my crew in passing the canoe over the hill, which was done
in about an hour, safely and without much trouble. We also carried over
about half the cargo before nightfall; and, my tent being set up, I
passed a good night, the morning part being delightfully cool.