Bad arrangements of the Bolivian patrons for rationing
their men—The rapid of Misericordia—Tradition attached
thereto—Meeting with canoes from Bolivia—The Madeira rapids
and the junction of the river Beni—Nomenclature of the river
Madeira in its different sections—The rapids of Layes—Wild
cocoa trees—The Falls of Pao Grande.
On the 23rd, in Ribeirão, we woke up all hands at daybreak, and got the
last canoe over to the upper side. I would have liked to have stopped
for the day at this fall, so as to give the men a few hours’ leisure,
that they might fish in the quiet water of the river Ribeirão, wash their
clothes and rest a bit; but the Bolivian patrons were for going ahead,
so we passed the cargo over and got ready for a start by about 2 p.m. We
were to proceed that day as far as the next rapid, called Misericordia,
and there delay while hunters were sent to try for some wild pigs or
other fresh meat, as the stocks of that article remaining to the Bolivian
patrons were getting rather low.
It appears to be the custom with Bolivian patrons to start with barely
sufficient provisions for the time they expect the journey to take; they
don’t provide any surplus in case of delay. Then during the first days
of the journey they give the men excessively large rations, in order
that they may be well satisfied at starting, and so for the last two
weeks of the run the men have to be put on half, or even less than half,
rations. For instance, one of the Bolivian patrons advised me that the
ration of rice should be half a pound daily, besides farinha; at this
rate one could not carry enough rice for all the journey. And certainly
the quantity is more than necessary; from three to four ounces per man
daily being quite enough to thicken the “chupe,” or soup, which is the
stock dish of the Bolivian peon. This system is quite characteristic of
Bolivians, both Indians and Carayanas (_i.e._, those having Spanish blood
in their veins), for they cannot take anything by degrees; they must
finish it all at once. Thus a bottle of wine or cachaça must be drunk at
one sitting, and the next day they will go without. So also with their
chicha-drinking; they will prepare a huge quantity, and get through it in
one evening, then go without until another “fiesta” day or other suitable
occasion calls for a fresh brew. At starting it was reckoned that we
should do the journey up the rapids, and to the village of Exaltacion,
in about five weeks; but a month has now passed, and we have at least
another week’s work to get through before we get out of the rapids. At
this time I still had provisions in farinha and charqui for three weeks
further, and had been able to spare four “alquieres” (bundles of 1 cwt.
each) of farinha, and treat the men of the other canoes to cachaça
every day for some time past. Charqui was somewhat scarcer, for we had
counted upon game, but had only met with a few pavas, there being no time
available for sending the men into the woods.
We got to Misericordia at 4 p.m., and unloaded half the cargoes, passing
two canoes before dark up a creek on the right bank, at the end of which
there was a very steep bit of rock, with very little water on it upon
which to get the canoe over. This cachuela is especially dangerous,
although at first sight it appears a mere corriente; but the river swirls
over a point of rock and forms a succession of whirlpools from which,
they say, a canoe, if once drawn in, can never escape. In ascending, this
rapid must be passed by the creek on the right bank; but at low water
it is said that the rapid does not offer much obstacle, although I am
inclined to think that this information is very uncertain. The aforesaid
channel on the right bank offers no obstacles that cannot be overcome
by hard work in unloading or hauling, and is therefore preferable.
The descent should be made almost in mid-channel, while, if anything,
steering to the left rather than to the right bank. There is a tradition
that the name of Misericordia was given to this rapid after a dreadful
occurrence that is said to have happened in the early part of this
century, when a party of Brazilian soldiers from the province of Mato
Grosso descending the rapids, one of their canoes wrecked in mid-stream;
some of the men succeeding in temporarily escaping to the rock, on
which, their comrades being unable to afford them any help by ropes, or
approach them with canoes, they were starved to death in sight of, but
absolutely out of the reach of, their comrades. If this story be a true
one, it is difficult to determine whose fate was the hardest; that of
those who perished seeing their end approaching by slow but sure degrees,
or that of their sorrowing comrades on the mainland, who were unable to
afford any help to the sufferers on the dreadful rock. With this fearsome
tale attached to the spot, well may the Bolivian Indian, on nearing the
cachuela, fervently chant the solemn “Misericordia! Misericordia! livra
nos siempre de todo mal.”
On the 24th, we found that the canoes left the night before below the
rapid had grounded from the fall of the river, and we had to take a
little more cargo out so that they might float, when we got them hauled
up the creek over the rocks, and reloaded by eight o’clock. Just as we
were starting, we saw three canoes coming down the river from Bolivia,
and got news that the country was in a state of revolution. This was a
bad augury for the success of my journey through the Republic; but there
was no help for it but to go ahead, and take things as they might be. We
also learned that the Brazilian consul in the Beni provinces had recently
been assassinated by one of his own Brazilian servants in his estancia, a
few leagues below the village of Exaltacion. I was pleased to find that
this outrage had not been committed by Bolivian Indians, who are, as a
rule, much quieter and more tractable than the mixed races of Brazil.
Proceeding onwards from Misericordia, our canoes kept on the right bank,
arriving at nightfall at a good stopping-place, after having passed over
four strong currents, and leaving the main part of the next cachuela to
be passed on the following morning with the canoes half unloaded.
The whole of the 25th was occupied in passing the principal fall of
the Madeira Rapid and the currents above it. The junction of the river
Beni occurs amongst the currents above the principal fall, and from this
circumstance the fall has been named the “Cachuela de Madeira,” as below
the junction the Madeira River is said to commence. From the junction
of the Beni to that of the Itenez, the river is by some called the Rio
Grande, by others the Itenez, and it is only above the latter junction
that the Mamoré reigns. Above the Madeira Fall, and in the neighbourhood
of the junction of the Beni, the river is much broken up by islands, and
consequently the navigation of this stretch is almost, if not quite,
as bad as that of the “Rabo do Ribeirão.” At the junction of the river
Beni, the river appears as though it divided itself into two parts, and
they seemed to me to be almost of equal width and volume of water. This
day the south wind blew very strong and cold, and all the men complained
greatly, as they had to be constantly in the water.
Early morning of the 26th the expedition continued the ascent of the
river, arriving at the rapids of “Layes” about 11.30 a.m. These rapids
are formed by two small falls with a current below them, and were passed
with canoes half unloaded. Near the fall, but below it, is a wide stream
on the right side of the river, and we halted for breakfast here, so as
to allow the men time to fish; but they had no luck in consequence of the
south wind, which, it is said, hinders the fish from taking the baits. We
got clear of the fall and canoes reloaded by about 4 p.m., and, though
late, determined to endeavour to overtake the canoes that had got ahead
of us, and which we saw up stream above us; but we were only able to get
about a quarter of a mile or so when it got dark, and we had to pull up
and make fast for the night. This cachuela gave us more trouble than was
anticipated; but I fancy that it is better at low water, for the channels
then would be better defined: now the channels are amongst rocks, and
very difficult to find and to keep the canoes in. In this part of the
river I noticed a great many wild cocoa trees, which, although growing
almost universally on the banks of the Madeira and Mamoré, are hereabouts
more thickly collected together. The fruit of these trees is of very
superior quality, and it would require very little labour to organize an
excellent plantation.
The 27th we started at daybreak, and got out of the last of the Layes
currents by eight o’clock, and came in sight of the bluffs and highlands
of the next cachuela, called “Pao Grande,” at which we arrived by 9.30
a.m., pulling up in a capital little port with a good sandbank, but
only room for about four canoes at a time. Here we overtook the other
canoes that had got ahead, and had to unload all our cargoes, as the
fall is impassable with loaded canoes at any season of the year. The
channel we passed up is on the right or Brazilian side of the river,
and to look at seems to be one of the worst passes amongst the rapids,
having two “saltos,” or jumps, each of about four feet in height, up
which one would hardly fancy that canoes could be made to ascend. It was
wonderful to see how well the Bolivian Indians managed to make the heavy
canoes ascend these almost perpendicular falls. They would first seek
out a part of the fall that, as well as having plenty of water going
over it—say about eighteen inches in depth—should have a good supply of
weeds growing on the rocks, as over these weeds the bottom of the canoe
slides easily. Then the bulk of the men are set to pull steadily on the
two ropes that are attached to the bow, these ropes being spread out as
much as possible on either side, so that a pull can be put on right or
left as circumstances require. A rope is also kept on the stern, but only
requires the attention of a couple of good men, while in the canoe the
captain at the helm directs all the workers, and two of the best men in
the bows keep the canoe off the rocks as she answers to the pull of the
men on shore. In this manner three heavy canoes were passed up this fall
in about a couple of hours. On the land side of the channel the rocks
stand up about twenty feet above the water, and it was rather an exciting
scene to stand on one of these rocks and see the men pulling and shouting
down below. My canoe shipped a good deal of water by slewing round as it
was being pulled up one of the jumps. This was caused by one of the head
ropes being allowed to slacken at this inopportune moment; but, as she
was empty, it did not much matter. The path over which the cargoes are
carried is about a quarter of a mile in length, and goes over very rocky
ground. At dark we had nearly all our cargo over, so stopped work for the
night. Weather dull and cold, the wind being still southerly and chilly.
The men are, however, improving in health, slight attacks of fever with
one or two of them being the only complaints.