DOWN THE RIVER.--ARRIVAL ON THE BENI.--BIRDS OF THE AMAZON
VALLEY.--BUILDING A HUT.--HUNTING WITH POISONED ARROWS.--TURTLES, AND
TURTLE-HUNTING.
[Illustration: A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE.]
All were heartily glad to terminate the journey by mule and on foot, and
there was sound sleep in their little tent on the night following their
arrival at the village on the river's bank. They were up early, and for
two or three hours were occupied with paying the carriers, and
negotiating for canoes for the voyage down the stream. The settlement
with the carriers was less difficult than the engagement of the canoes.
The price for land transportation had been agreed upon beforehand, so
that there was little occasion for dispute; the porters of the sillas
had exaggerated ideas of the value of their services in bringing their
charges through without accident; but the question did not rise to
anything like a serious misunderstanding.
The Indians of the village were disinclined to move, as it happened to
be a period of festival, and they resented the idea of stopping their
rejoicings in order to make a voyage down the river. Manuel argued that
it was a downward voyage, and they would have no hard work to do; by the
time they were at their journey's end the festival would be over, and
consequently the proposed trip would not really interfere with their
amusements. They admitted the force of his suggestion, and when this was
fairly conceded the negotiations proceeded, with some hitches, to a
happy termination.
In spite of all efforts to secure an early departure, they did not get
away until the morning of the third day following their arrival from the
Andes. Four canoes were engaged; two for the baggage, and two for the
three travellers and their guide. The canoes were each about twenty feet
long, and two in width; they were hollowed from the trunks of trees, and
closely resembled the American "dugout." In fact they were literally of
that type of craft, and reminded Frank and Fred of the boats they had
seen in the Malay Archipelago, and at Singapore and Point de Galle.
Each canoe had four rowers, and a _popero_, or pilot; the latter was an
important personage, as the safety of the boat in the rapids depended
upon his watchfulness, and his prompt action in moments of peril. The
baggage was placed in two of the canoes; the third was occupied by
Doctor Bronson and Frank, while the fourth held Fred and the guide. The
Doctor and Frank led the advance, while Fred and the guide brought up
the rear, the baggage canoes being in the centre of the column. After an
affectionate parting of the Indians with their friends on shore the
canoes were manned, and the flotilla was under way. The leave-taking of
the Indians was peculiar; they clasped hands, then kissed the hands
alternately, and then kissed each other. As each Indian was obliged to
go through this ceremony with every one whom he left behind, the
osculation consumed considerable time.
The canoes were to take them to the point where the river they were
descending unites with the Beni; it was estimated that the downward
journey would occupy two days, while the Indians would be eight or ten
days in returning. In descending they keep the canoes in the middle of
the stream, and take advantage of the current, but in ascending they hug
the banks, and propel the boat by means of poles, or by dragging it
around the rapids. The current is swift, as there is a considerable fall
to the river; nowhere was the flow less than three miles an hour, and in
many places it amounted to five miles. Several rapids were passed which
had a dangerous appearance, and undoubtedly they would have been full
of peril to any one unaccustomed to them.
Dr. Bronson certainly looked very serious while passing the first of the
rapids, and the face of Frank wore an expression of anxiety. But their
possible doubt as to the result was removed when they saw the skill with
which the popero swung his long paddle, dexterously brought the canoe
around when it seemed about to go headlong on a rock, and let it glide
past a whirling eddy which threatened to swamp it. They were only a few
minutes in the rapid, but it seemed at least an hour to the travellers.
[Illustration: A LANDING-PLACE.]
The trees on the banks of the river showed that they were in the
tropics. Palms of several varieties were visible, bamboos grew
luxuriantly, banana bushes were numerous, while papayas, plantains, and
similar vegetable growths were everywhere to be seen. Frank had his
rifle ready for use in case of large game, but none was discovered;
birds rich in plumage flew among the trees, but, like most of the birds
of the tropics, they were seen rather than heard. Few tropical birds
have the power of song, and it is possible that their brilliant feathers
are given in compensation for their deprivation.
But do not understand that all the birds of South America are unmusical.
On the borders of Guiana is a rare bird, known as the Uruponga or
Campanero, which may be rendered into English as "the tolling-bell
bird." It is white, and somewhat smaller than a dove, and has a black
tubercle under the beak. One traveller, Waterton, says of this bird,
"Orpheus himself would drop his lute to listen to him, so sweet, so
novel, and romantic is the toll of the pretty, snow-white campanero."
Sydney Smith, in reviewing Waterton's narrative, says "The campanero may
be heard three miles! This single little bird being more powerful than
the belfry of a cathedral ringing for a new dean! It is impossible to
contradict a gentleman who has been in the forests of Cayenne, but we
are determined, as soon as a campanero is brought to England, to make
him toll in a public place, and have the distance measured."
Professor Orton says the most remarkable songster of the Amazonian
forest is the Realejo, or organ bird. Its notes are as musical as the
flageolet. Another authority says it is the only songster which makes
any impression on the natives. The umbrella bird has a deep, loud, and
long fluty note, which can be heard a great distance through the forest.
He is black as a crow, and has a crest of waving plumes above his head,
while there is a long lobe below his neck covered with blue feathers so
glossy that they shine at every movement he makes.
[Illustration: HUMMING-BIRDS OF THE ANDES.]
Before reaching the river our friends had seen a good many
humming-birds, and Frank tried in vain to secure specimens of these
tiniest members of the feathered race. On the river he was more
fortunate, and he made sketches of some of the most remarkable, after
fixing them upon wires, to give the greatest possible resemblance to
life. There is one variety that has two long feathers forming the tail;
each of these feathers has a broad tuft at the end, and when the bird
darts among the leaves and flowers the tail seems like a flash of bright
color among the varied hues of the foliage.
[Illustration: HUMMING-BIRD'S NEST.]
A little past noon the foremost boat drew up at the bank, and the others
followed its example. Here they remained an hour, while the boatmen
partook of their repast of bananas and parched corn, and the civilized
travellers regaled themselves upon provisions better suited to American
tastes. Frank and Fred endeavored to take a stroll in the forest, but
the way was blocked by vines and thick undergrowth, so that their
advance was slight.
[Illustration: PAIR OF TOUCANS AND THEIR NEST.]
Frank saw a toucan, one of those comical birds, with an enormous beak
which seems specially made for devouring bananas; the bird was seated on
the sloping trunk of a tree, and close observation showed the head of
another bird of the same kind protruding from the wood. Frank guessed
rightly that he had come upon a pair of toucans and their nest. The
toucan makes his home in a hollow tree, as his bill is quite unadapted
to nest-building after the manner of the robin or the oriole. Think of a
toucan endeavoring to weave a nest like the graceful structure the
oriole hangs from the tree! As well expect to see a lace collar wrought
with a crowbar.
[Illustration: TANAGERS AND NEST.]
On they went through the tropical forest, along the swiftly flowing
river, passing now and then little stretches of open pampas or grassy
plain, where there is excellent pasturage for cattle. At night they
halted at an island; the boatmen always prefer to pass the nights on
islands when journeying along the river, as they are then much more
secure against the wild Indians who might do them harm. Most of the
hostiles are without boats, and even when possessing them they are
cautious about venturing on the islands for the purpose of making an
attack. They greatly prefer to have a safe line of retreat behind them
in the shape of the forest, where pursuit is next to impossible.
At their second day's nooning it was Fred's turn to make a discovery in
ornithology. Several times they had heard the shrill voice of the
parrot, but had not succeeded in detecting the bird that made it; at the
halting-place we have just mentioned Fred saw two or three parrots among
the trees just as his boat swung to the shore, but they flew away at the
approach of their disturbers and disappeared. As soon as they had
landed, the youth followed in the direction the birds had taken, and was
fortunate enough to see them again; evidently they were near their
nesting-place, but they did not manifest any willingness to invite the
stranger to see them at home.
[Illustration: TOUCAN. PARROTS.]
The hooked bill of the parrot is as inconvenient in nest-making as the
great beak of the toucan; the philosophical bird accepts the situation,
and rears its young in a hollow tree, like its huge-billed friend.
Parrots are more numerous than toucans and also more noisy; probably for
these reasons they are seen quite frequently, while the discovery of a
toucan is not easily made. The Doctor said a traveller might make the
descent of the Amazon without seeing one of the latter birds, while he
would encounter the parrot very often. Consequently Frank might feel
proud of what he had seen the day before, and but for the accident of
stumbling upon the locality of the nest he would not have been thus
favored. Occasionally parrots and toucans are found together; both are
gregarious, and the same may be said of most of the birds of South
America.
To the parrot family belong the true parrots, paroquets, and macaws.
Paroquets go in flocks, while the parrots always fly in pairs, though
they flock together in large numbers on the trees. A few Indian tribes
consider the macaw sacred, and it is called by some of them "the bird of
the sun."
It was near evening when they reached their destination, a village of
perhaps fifty huts, on the tongue of land forming the junction between
the Beni and the river they had descended. Half the payment for the
boats and boatmen had been made before starting; the balance was now
due, but by common consent the settlement was postponed till morning.
All the huts were so intolerably dirty that the travellers refused to
occupy one of them; the little tent was spread near the cleanest of the
huts, the baggage being piled in the latter, in charge of Manuel, while
the Doctor and his young companions slept under canvas.
The boatmen were paid off in the morning, and started at once on their
homeward journey. The prospects for an immediate departure down the Beni
were not brilliant, as most of the Indians were away, and nobody could
say when they would return. They were absent on a turtle-hunting
expedition along the Beni; they might be back in a day or not for a
week. _Quien sabe?_
"Never mind," said the Doctor; "what can't be cured must be endured. We
will build a hut for ourselves, and study the Beni and anything else
that comes in our way. We can make excursions into the forest and learn
something of the country. The time will not be wasted, by any means."
Frank and Fred assented readily to the proposal; in fact, they never did
anything else when the Doctor gave advice or suggestions.
But it was easier to agree to build a hut than to build it. Labor was
not easy to obtain.
[Illustration: AN AMAZONIAN DWELLING.]
The forest supplied the material, but it was difficult to induce the
Indians to do anything. After considerable argument they prevailed upon
some of the men to cut the requisite bamboos, and bring them to the spot
selected for the temporary dwelling. Under the supervision of the youths
and their guide, the walls were put up by driving some of the bamboos
into the ground; a space was left for a doorway; the roof was put on,
and thatched with leaves of the Pandanus palm; and by nightfall the new
house was completed. It measured about twelve feet by fifteen, and was
admirably ventilated; the total cost was estimated at six dollars and a
half, and it was pronounced one of the handsomest structures in the
village. The Indians were well paid for their labor, according to the
rates of the local trades union; and it was understood that the building
was to become the property of the alcalde, or chief man of the village,
after the departure of the strangers.
The alcalde surveyed the edifice with evident pride, and the Doctor
thought he discovered an avaricious expression on the fellow's face.
Frank and Fred thought likewise.
"I tell you what it is," said Fred, "we have 'builded wiser than we
knew.' He will be anxious enough to get us away in order to take
possession of his new residence."
"I was thinking the same thing," said Frank, "and we shall save more
than the cost of the building when we make our bargain with the alcalde
for boats, to go down the river."
[Illustration: NEAR THE VILLAGE.]
It was the first new house erected in that village for several years,
and the alcalde was covetous. The prediction of the youths was correct,
and the old fellow was quite active in speeding the parting guests. When
the Indians returned from their turtle-hunt the bargains were easily
made and the necessary boats and men obtained. But they did not return
for a week, and while we are waiting for them we will take a glance at
the Beni and observe its peculiarities.
The Beni is formed by several head streams, that rise in the Andes east
and northeast of the plain of Titicaca. It flows to the northwest for
about three hundred miles, receiving numerous tributaries, and then in a
northeasterly direction to the frontier of Brazil. Here it enters the
Madeira, which is formed by the Mamoré and Iténez Rivers, and from the
point of junction its name and identity are lost. It is the largest of
the affluents of the Madeira, and is thought to be equal to both the
other streams combined. It is half a mile wide at its mouth, and fifty
feet deep, and is estimated to discharge at an ordinary stage five
thousand cubic yards of water every second.
The Beni and its tributaries are navigable for many hundreds of miles in
the interior of Bolivia; how far this navigation may be carried is not
known, as no complete survey has been made. With a fleet of steamboats
on the Beni and its kindred streams, and a railway around the falls of
the Madeira, the resources of Bolivia could be developed with ease;
until that work is accomplished the foreign commerce of the country can
never be extensive.
Through much of its course the Beni runs through forests, but there is
also a wide extent of pampas or grassy plains, where millions of cattle
and horses might find pasturage. So abundant and cheap are the cattle at
the present time that they are killed for their hides alone, the flesh
being left to rot on the ground. The other rivers that form the Madeira
traverse a similar country, but have their sources farther east than
those of the Beni. They are fed by the rains brought from the Atlantic
by the easterly winds, which are heavily charged with moisture.
Frank and Fred were not slow to win the confidence of the Indians during
their stay at the village; through the aid of Manuel, who understood the
language of this people, they learned some of the ways of native life on
the tributaries of the Amazon. They did not hesitate to ask questions
about anything they saw; sometimes the answers were evasive, while at
others the information sought was readily obtained.
While visiting one of the huts Fred espied some reeds, ten or twelve
feet long and perfectly straight, among the rafters of the building.
Pointing to them, the youth asked what they were for.
"They are guns," answered Manuel; "the guns that the Indians kill game
with."
"How can they kill game with guns like these?" queried the astonished
visitor. "They would explode with the lightest charge of powder."
"But they don't use powder at all," was the reply; "they blow arrows
through the reeds, and shoot in that way."
Fred expressed a desire to see how it was done, and Frank joined in the
wish. Manuel talked a moment with the owner of the implements, and at
Fred's suggestion agreed to pay a good price for a chicken if the Indian
would kill it with the blow-gun. The Indian consented, and the party
adjourned to the open space near the new house.
The Indian placed a small arrow in one of the reeds. The missile had a
sharp point of iron, and was fitted with a tuft of cotton at its other
end, to prevent the air from passing it during the act of shooting. Thus
equipped, the man took a position behind a bush, and the unsuspecting
chicken was placed on the ground about twenty yards away.
The bird walked around a few moments, uncertain where to go. The Indian
raised the reed to his lips, took aim, and "fired."
The arrow went true to the mark, and pierced through the chicken from
side to side. The man offered to repeat the experiment as long as the
visitors would pay for fresh game, but they had seen enough to satisfy
them, and declined his proposal.
"But can they kill large animals in this way?" said Frank. "I understand
how they can shoot birds by concealing themselves in the trees, and
watching for them to come near, but when it comes to large game, I
wonder how they can give force enough to the arrows, especially where
the animals have tough skins, like the capybara and the tapir."
"For killing large game," replied Manuel, "they use arrows poisoned with
_curari_ or _woorara_. The name has several pronunciations in different
parts of South America, and there are at least half a dozen kinds of the
poison."
"What is that?"
"If you should ask the Indian he would not tell you. The Indians have
long guarded the secret of its origin and preparation, but it was
obtained from them some years ago by Sir Robert Schomburgh, I believe.
It is made from the juice of the _Strychnos toxifera_, a tree or shrub
resembling that which supplies the St. Ignatius bean; the St. Ignatius
bean is familiarly known as the 'Quaker button,' and yields the
strychnine or nux vomica of commerce."
"But it is more powerful even than strychnine," said the Doctor, who had
just joined them; "in fact, it is considered the most active narcotic
known to science. It acts on the nervous system and produces paralysis,
with convulsive movements followed by death. It has been tried with some
success in the treatment of lockjaw and hydrophobia, but it is too
dangerous for general use.
[Illustration: AGAVE, OR SISAL HEMP.]
"If introduced into a wound its effect is almost instantaneous, but when
taken through the stomach in minute quantities it is comparatively
harmless. Now let us hear from Manuel how it is used by the Indians."
[Illustration: HUNTING WITH THE BLOW-GUN.]
"They dip the points of the arrows in curari," said the latter, "and
project the arrows at the game. If it punctures the skin enough to let
the poison enter the blood the work is done. In a few seconds or a few
minutes at farthest the animal falls to the ground and dies in
convulsions, and it is a curious fact that the flesh is in no way
tainted with the deadly substance. A bear or a tapir has died within
five minutes after being wounded, and smaller animals in less than one
minute. Great care is necessary in using it, as the least scratch with
the point of a poisoned arrow may prove fatal to the hunter.
"These Indians will kill more birds in a day with the blow-gun than the
most experienced hunter could bring down with a rifle. When they go out
for birds they use arrows only a few inches long. Taking a position in
the top of a tree, an Indian will often empty his quiver, bringing down
bird after bird as fast as he can load and shoot. The weapon is
noiseless, and the man remains in concealment till he has finished his
work and is ready to pick up his game."
Frank and Fred thought they did not care to practise with these weapons,
however effective they might be, and they determined to keep on the
friendly side of the Indians, and thus avoid being aimed at with the
deadly blow-gun. The Indian was paid for his chicken, and the party
separated.
[Illustration: A GIANT OF THE FOREST.]
They made a short excursion into the forest, and were greatly impressed
with the size of the trees, and the great extent of arboreal
productions. Travelling was difficult, owing to the thickness of the
under-brush and the vast number of vines that covered the ground and
hung in festoons from the trees. Several varieties of mahogany were
observed; a rubber-tree was pointed out by Manuel; there were half a
dozen kinds of palms, and they were told that many more were to be seen
farther down the river; and there were several giant trees with soft
wood, whose names are not known to the English language.
One day Manuel took a skiff and rowed out into the river with the avowed
intention of bringing in a turtle for dinner; he was accompanied by an
Indian, the one who had experimented with the blow-gun, but this time
the fellow was armed with a spear, and an ordinary bow and arrow.
Fred wondered how the turtle was to be taken with these implements, but
he had not long to wait before ascertaining.
The Indian stood in the bow of the skiff with the bow and arrow ready,
while Manuel paddled slowly along, taking the direction indicated by the
marksman. Keeping where the water was shallow, they traversed quite a
distance before anything worth shooting was found. After a while the
Indian spied a turtle, and the boat was rapidly rowed in his direction.
[Illustration: TURTLE-SHOOTING IN SOUTH AMERICA.]
The arrow was skilfully projected, and pierced the turtle through the
neck. He tried to get away, but his progress was impeded by the arrow,
which gave an opportunity for using the spear; then a cord was passed
around the turtle's neck and he was brought triumphantly to land.
On the lower Amazon the hunters have a cord wound around the shaft of
the arrow, to which it is fastened; the other end of the cord is tied to
the head, which fits loosely in the shaft. When a turtle is struck he
dives; the head detaches from the shaft, the cord unwinds, and the
stick floats on the water. The hunter can then follow his game, and
easily secures it by hauling in the cord.
Our friends supped on turtle as the result of Manuel's hunting
adventure. They found it palatable, especially when served up in steaks,
though Frank was of opinion that it could not be surpassed in a stew.
The next day the hunting-party returned, and the market of the little
village was abundantly supplied with turtle meat.
Frank interested himself in the history and statistics of the Amazonian
turtle, with the following result:
"Turtles are the most important product of the Amazon and its
tributaries, and furnish the sustenance of the majority of the natives
of the great valley. Seven kinds of turtles are known to the natives,
but only two of them, the tartaruga or charapa, and the charapilla, are
eaten. The charapa is the largest, being often found three feet long and
broad in proportion, but the charapilla is considered the best.
"The eggs of the turtle are used for making oil or butter, and also for
cooking in various ways. They are found along the banks of the rivers or
on sand-bars; the charapa lays from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
eggs, and the charapilla from thirty to forty. The turtle comes up at
night, digs a hole two or three feet deep in the sand with its hind
flippers, and then deposits its eggs. It covers them with sand again and
returns to the water, unless, as too often happens, it is caught by the
native who has been on the watch for it. I say 'too often,' as the
indiscriminate slaughter of the turtle and the destruction of the eggs
are fast reducing the number and raising the price. The hunters turn the
turtles on their backs and there leave them till the next day, when
they return and collect them. Once on its back the poor turtle is
helpless.
[Illustration: TURTLE-TURNING.]
"The natives hunt for turtle eggs by pushing sticks in the sand; if the
stick enters easily it reveals the locality of the deposit, and a little
digging brings it to light. It is estimated that not fewer than fifty
millions of turtle eggs are taken every year on the Amazon and its
tributaries, and some authorities think the number is much larger.
"The wonder is that any turtles remain. They are shot in the water or
caught when returning from the banks where they have deposited their
eggs; young turtles by the thousand are eaten by alligators and large
fishes; jaguars and pumas seize them when they are travelling overland,
to or from their nesting-places; and the birds of prey by no means let
them alone. But they could get along well enough were it not for their
human foes, which are the worst of all. The turtles of the Amazon will
follow the fate of the buffalo and the salmon of North America whenever
the country becomes fully peopled and the demand increases in
proportion.
"The Indians have brought back many gallons of oil from turtles' eggs,
which they made during their absence. The eggs are thrown into a canoe,
and then trampled and beaten up by the feet of men and boys till the
mass resembles a Brobdingnagian omelette ready for cooking. Water is
poured into the canoe and mixed with the stuff; the oil rises to the
surface and is skimmed off. Then it is purified over the fire and put
into jars holding about three gallons each, for transportation to
market."