TRINIDAD AND THE ORINOCO
"The battle's rage
Was like the strife which currents wage,
Where Orinoco, in his pride,
Rolls to the main no tribute tide,
But 'gainst broad ocean urges far
A rival sea of roaring war;
While in ten thousand eddies driven,
The billows fling their foam to heaven,
And the pilot seeks in vain,
Where rolls the river, where the main." [48]
--Scott.
THE ISLAND OF THE BLESSED TRINITY
The morning following our departure from the Pearl Islands we were
delighted to find our good ship anchored in the beautiful Gulf of
Paria. Thus, almost before we were aware of it, we found ourselves
reposing on the waters of the famed Orinoco which we had made such
futile efforts to reach from Caracas and Victoria. The Gulf of Paria,
as is known, is just north of several of the largest estuaries of the
Orinoco and the line of demarcation between the salt water of the
Atlantic and the fresh water of Venezuela's great river is usually
quite marked. As we entered the gulf, through the Dragon's Mouth,
we had the mainland on our starboard and the island of Trinidad on
our port quarter. Although the waters of the Orinoco now enter the
Atlantic through two channels--the Boca del Draco and the Boca de la
Sierpe--there is no doubt that Trinidad was in recent geological times
a part of the mainland of South America and that the Orinoco, instead
of reaching the ocean, as it now does, flowed almost directly across
the island through a depression which is still quite conspicuous. It
will thus be seen that during long geologic ages there has been an
intimate physical connection between Trinidad and the Orinoco as
there has been a close commercial connection between the two ever
since the Spanish conquest.
Owing to the shallow waters of the harbor of the Port-of-Spain,
the capital of Trinidad, our steamer had to anchor about a mile from
the quay. When we were prepared to go ashore--and we lost no time in
getting ready--we were surrounded by a motley crowd of sable, shouting,
importunate boatmen, all clamoring and gesticulating and sounding the
praises of their canoes, and calling attention to their fantastic
names, as if this were a guarantee of their safety and comfort. In
a few moments we were seated in one of these gayly decked craft,
with our baggage beside us, on our way to the customhouse. Here we
were delayed only a few minutes, for the English in their colonies,
as in the mother country, rarely subject the traveler to those
delays and annoyances that constitute so disagreeable a feature in
certain other countries. "What a contrast," we said to ourselves,
"between the conduct of the officials here and that of the officious
inquisitors at La Guayra!"
After we had been comfortably located in our hotel--there are several
good hotels in the city--our first thought was about our journey up
the Orinoco. To our great delight we learned that there would be a
steamer going to Ciudad Bolivar in about a week. This accorded with
our plans perfectly, as we thus had ample time to visit the chief
points of interest--and there are many--of the island, and enjoy at
least a passing view of the wonderful and varied floral display for
which Trinidad is so famous.
Trinidad, as the reader will recollect, was discovered by Columbus
during his third voyage, and given the name it still bears in honor
of the Blessed Trinity. In his letter to Ferdinand and Isabella,
describing this voyage, he says he started from San Lucar in the
name of the most Holy Trinity, and after two months at sea, during a
portion of which time all aboard suffered intensely from the heat,
[49] they saw to the westward three mountain peaks, united at the
base, rising up before them. Here, then, was to them the symbol of the
Triune God--the Three in One--in whose name all had left their native
land, and what more natural than that it should be named Trinidad--the
Trinity? "Upon this," writes the pious admiral, "we repeated the 'Salve
Regina,' and other prayers, and all of us gave thanks to our Lord."
What a grateful change it was from the extreme heat which they
had endured, to the delightful climate of the newly discovered
island. "When I reached the island of Trinidad," I again quote from
the Admiral's letter, "I found the temperature exceedingly mild;
the fields and the foliage were remarkably fresh and green, and as
beautiful as the gardens of Valencia in April." [50]
What so deeply impressed Columbus on his arrival at Trinidad was what
likewise most impresses the visitor to-day--its mild climate and the
beauty and luxuriance of its vegetation. Although the island is but
little more than 10° from the Equator the mean annual temperature
is not more than 77° F. In the mornings and evenings of the cooler
season the thermometer is about 10° lower. During our sojourn of some
weeks in Trinidad we never suffered from the heat. On the contrary,
during our morning and evening drives, especially in the mountains,
we found the ocean breeze delightfully refreshing.
Columbus was also much impressed by the natives of the island. They
had a whiter skin--he had expected to find them very black--than any
he had hitherto seen in the Indies and were very graceful in form,
tall and elegant in their movements.
With the exception of a few scattered families, of more or less mixed
descent, the visitor will find no evidence of the former existence
here of that splendid type of Indian of whom the great navigator
speaks so highly, and of whose race there were then on the island many
thousands of souls. Here, as on the other islands of the West Indies,
the aborigines have disappeared, never to return.
In their place we find the most cosmopolitan agglomeration of
people under the sun--English, Germans, Spaniards, French, Chinese,
Hindoos, and Negroes from the darkest Senegambian to the fairest
Octaroon. About one-half of the population is composed of Negroes,
one-third of Coolies, and one-sixth of whites of various nationalities
and shades of color. As we contemplated the motley crowds which always
throng the streets of the Port-of-Spain we could not but recall Lopez
de Gomara's curious reflections on the divers colors of the different
races of men. We give his remarks in Richard Eden's translation:
"One of the marueylous thynges that god ... vseth in the composition
of man, is coloure; whiche doubtlesse can not bee consydered withowte
great admiration in beholding one to be white and an other blacke,
beinge coloures vtterlye contrary. Sum lykewyse to be yelowe whiche
is betwene blacke and white; and other of other colours as it were
of dyuers liueres. And as these colours are to be marueyled at,
euen so is it to be considered howe they dyffer one from an other
as it were by degrees, forasmuche as sum men are whyte after dyuers
sortes of whytnesse: yelowe after dyuers maners of yelowe: blacke
after dyuers sortes of blacknesse: and howe from whyte they go to
yelowe by ... discolourygne to browne and redde: and to blacke by
asshe colour, and murrey sumwhat lyghter then blacke: and tawnye lyke
vnto the west Indian which are all togyther in general eyther purple,
or tawny lyke vnto sodde quynses, or of the colour of chestnuttes or
olyues: which colour is to them natural and not by theyr goynge naked
as many haue thought: albeit theyr nakednesse haue sumwhat helped
thereunto. Therfore in lyke maner and with suche diuersitie as men
are commonly whyte in Europe and blacke in Affrike, euen with like
varietie are they tawny in these Indies, with diuers degrees diuersly
inclynynge more or lesse to blacke or whyte." [51]
The Coolies interested us immensely, in whatever part of the island
we met them--and they are to be seen everywhere--and were for us the
subject-matter of constant study. They occupy an entire suburb of the
Port-of-Spain, and, for those who are interested in sociological and
economic questions, no place is more worthy of a visit. Day after day,
when the delicious evening breezes began to sweep in from the ocean,
we found ourselves directing our course towards the "Indian Quarter,"
as it is called, and we always found something new to arrest our
attention or excite our admiration. It required no effort whatever of
the imagination to fancy ourselves in the crowded streets and markets
of Benares or Madras.
Port-of-Spain, whose population is about 50,000, rejoices in quite
a number of large and handsome public buildings and churches. Among
the latter the Roman Catholic Cathedral is conspicuous. The homes
of the people in the better quarters of the city--surrounded by a
rich profusion of tropical flowers, and shrubs and trees covered with
blooming climbers--are frequently models of architectural excellence,
and betoken refinement, comfort and even affluence.
To us the most attractive part of the city was the Botanical Garden,
adjoining the residence of the governor. This spot is justly famous
not only in the West Indies, but the world over. Here have been
collected from every tropical clime all the plants and shrubs and
trees that are admired, for beauty of bloom, richness of fragrance,
or grace and majesty of form.
Here we see the hibiscus shrub, with large, flaming, crimson flowers;
the poinciana, aglow with a bloom of yellow and orange, scarlet
flowered balisiers, and the poui tree decked with a rich robe of
saffron. Alongside them are oranges and lemons, pineapples, guavas,
mongosteens, nutmegs, tamarinds, and scores of other kinds of tropical
fruits. A little further on we meet with tea shrubs, the clove and
the cinnamon tree, the rubber tree, and the Bertolettia excelsa, laden
with nuts, each of which contains from ten to twenty seeds. Then there
are the curious cannon-ball tree, stately samans, the leopardwood
tree, the trumpet tree and others equally attractive. Besides all
these there are those princes of the forest--the palms--from every
quarter of the tropics, with every variety of trunk and leaf--date,
fern, talipot, Palmyra, and groo-groo palms, the tall traveler's-tree
with its graceful plantain-like leaves, and the Oreodoxa speciosa,
"the glory of the mountains." On and among them are rare orchids,
and parasites of countless species, climbing ferns, and convolvuluses
of every hue.
And to complete this scene of beauty, we behold at almost every step,
fluttering across our path, brilliant heliconias and other butterflies
that contribute such life and charm to the forest glories of tropical
lands. And then the humming birds--those lovely animated gems that
flit from bush to bush, and flower to flower--flashing all the fire
of the opal, and emitting in rapid succession all the brilliant hues
of the topaz and the sapphire, the ruby and the emerald. They are
not as numerous now--more is the pity--as they were formerly, when
the aborigines gave the name Iere--humming bird--to this island on
account of their great numbers and when they protected and venerated
them as the souls of departed Indians. But one still meets them in
one's strolls through the gardens and the forest, and always with a
new sense of wonder and delight.
Here, of a truth, were realized, nay, eclipsed, all the marvels of
the garden of Alcinous, for here
"There was still
Fruit in his proper season all the year.
Sweet Zephyr breath'd upon them blasts that were
Of varied tempers. These he made to bear
Ripe fruits, these blossoms. Time made never rape
Of any dainty there." [52]
It is, indeed, worth a visit from afar to see and study these marvels
of plant and vine, and bush and tree of the Botanic Garden. But the
whole island is, at least for the stranger from the North, one vast
botanic garden. Go where we will, we are astonished and bewildered
by the novelty and the exuberance of the vegetation that surrounds us.
If we drive over the broad and well-kept roads along the western
coast, we pass under shady avenues of cocoa palms bending under
their burden of fruit. If we go to the cacao groves--and they are
large and numerous here--our eyes are gladdened by the vermilion
bloom that covers the protecting Erythrina umbrosa. [53] In a glen
hard by is a giant ceiba, transformed, by the countless number of
creepers and epiphytes to which it has given hospitality, into a
vast air-garden. Along the streams and mountain torrents are lovely
canopies formed by the plume-like foliage of bamboos--seventy to eighty
feet high--affording retreats of rarest sylvan beauty. Again it is in
the Rosa del Monte, with its crimson bloom, the purple dracona, the
yellow croton, the night-blooming cereus, the angelim, covered with
purple tassels, the carmine poinsettia, the sweet-scented vanilla,
festoons of purple flowered lianas, and gray candelabra of a giant
cereus. Beyond it all, as a felicitous background to this gorgeous
display and at the same time an adequate enclosure for Flora's fairy
palace, there is such a profusion of vegetable tracery and arabesques
"as would have stricken dumb with awe and delight him who ornamented
the Loggie of the Vatican."
Further on we have the comely bread-fruit tree, with its deeply-lobed
leaves and its massive fruit, the many-rooted and many-branched
mangrove, [54] and not far distant is a clump of royal palms, with
their smooth pearl-gray columns and coronals of verdure. Or there is a
group of kindred growth--jagua palms--whose crown of pinnated leaves,
each full twenty-five feet long, caused Humboldt to declare that
on this truly magnificent tree "Nature had lavished every beauty of
form." While standing by one of the pillar-stems of the jagua palm,
beneath its emerald ostrich plumes, we were quite prepared to share
Kingsley's enthusiasm for palm trees in general. "Like a Greek statue
in a luxurious drawing-room," he writes, "sharp-cut, cold, virginal;
shaming by the grandeur of mere form the voluptuousness of mere color,
however rich and harmonious; so stands the palm of the forest; to be
worshipped rather than to be loved." [55]
It would tire the reader to attempt a description of the many pictures
of interest of this charming island, of its delightful drives in
every direction, of its beauteous cascades and waterfalls, one of
which, Maracas Falls, three hundred feet in height, is a reproduction
of Bridal Falls in the Yosemite, with the added setting of tropical
verdure. No pen can picture the exquisite charm of the Caura or Maraval
valleys, of Blue Basin and Macaripe Bay, or of the Five Islands--real
gems of the ocean--with their cozy and inviting cottages. When in
Egypt years ago we fancied that we should like to spend the rest of
our days on the island of Philæ, ever in the presence of its matchless
ruins. When we spent a happy day--how fleeting it was--on one of these
five islands--it was the largest and fairest--we felt that we had at
length found that inland home--far away from noise and strife, from
"Fever and fret and aimless stir"
of which we had so often dreamed, and in which we had so often longed
to dwell.
The people of Trinidad think their island the most beautiful of all
the West Indian group. Having visited, at one time or other, all the
chief islands comprising the Greater and Lesser Antilles, we should
hesitate to dispute their claim. It is certainly very beautiful,
and possesses many attractions that are either entirely absent from
the other islands or are found only in a lesser degree. Puerto Rico
and Jamaica equal it in many respects, and in others surpass it,
but in some important features the American possession is inferior
to those of the British.
I have said nothing of La Brea, the wonderful pitch lake for which
Trinidad has been celebrated since the time of Raleigh, [56] and
which for some decades past has supplied us with much of the asphalt
used in the United States. This curious phenomenon has been described
so often that there is no call for further comment. Suffice to say
that it, together with the sugar plantations and the cacao groves,
constitutes the chief source of the revenue of the island.
Like Curaçao, Trinidad is a favorite resort of Venezuelan
revolutionists, expatriated generals and colonels and their
sympathizers. As a rule, they are an impecunious set, and rarely
interesting. Crespo and Guzman Blanco both started from here on their
way to the presidential chair in Caracas. So did the unfortunate
Paredes, shortly before our arrival in Venezuela, but he had scarcely
set foot on the soil of his native country, which he had promised to
liberate from the evils of Castroism, before he, with his followers,
was shot down in cold blood.
On account of its proximity to the mainland and commanding,
as it does, the entire Orinoco basin, Trinidad should enjoy an
extensive trade with Venezuela. And this she would undoubtedly
have were it not that Venezuela imposes an extra ad valorem duty
of thirty per cent. on all merchandise that comes from or by way of
Trinidad. This is in retaliation for the island's harboring smugglers
and revolutionists. One of the results of this policy is smuggling
on a most extensive scale, at which many of the customs officials
connive. This means a great loss to the Venezuelan government, for
it is estimated that it thus loses a greater part of the duties that
should go to the national treasury.
Another temptation to smuggle arises from the excessively high tariff
on certain necessary articles of consumption. Thus salt, which is a
government monopoly, costs sixteen times as much in Ciudad Bolivar
as it does in Trinidad. The natural consequence is that there is a
large contraband traffic in this important commodity. In some cases
the smugglers elude the vigilance of the government officials and
pay nothing whatever in the way of duties. In others they have an
understanding with the officials, and pay por composicion--that is,
only a portion of the tax--the other portion being divided between
the official and the smuggler.
Contraband trade, however, is nothing new in this part of the world. It
dates back to the sixteenth century when, according to Fray Padre
Simon, the learned author of Noticias Historiales de las Conquistas de
Tierra Firme, religion and policy prohibited all commercial relations
between Spaniards and foreigners, especially the Dutch and the English.
As an obiter dictum, however, it may be remarked that it was this
restricted and short-sighted trade policy that, more than anything
else, led to the enormous losses that Spain suffered during so many
decades from corsairs and buccaneers, and that eventually resulted
in the wars of independence in the Spanish colonies of the New World.
THE DELTA OF THE ORINOCO
We were still reveling in the countless beauties of forest and
field--quite oblivious of the passage of time--when we were informed
that our steamer would, in a few hours, start for Ciudad Bolivar,
the chief city on the Orinoco, and distant about two days' sail from
the Port-of-Spain.
Eager as we were to explore the wonders of the famed and mysterious
Orinoco, it was with great reluctance that we tore ourselves away
from the cherished home of flowers and humming birds--sweet Iere. In
Trinidad, thanks to the kind and considerate hospitality of its
people, we had enjoyed all the comforts of home and the same freedom
of movement as if we had been given the keys of the city.
Our steamer was scheduled to leave at two o'clock in the afternoon,
but, as a matter of fact, did not weigh anchor until some hours
later. This, however, we did not regret, as it gave us an opportunity
to have "one last lingering look" at the island beautiful from the
upper deck of the vessel. Besides this, we could by means of our
field glasses take a survey of the Gulf of Paria--for it is famous
in history, this Gulf of Paria--and has been visited by men whose
names are writ large in the annals of the world's heroes.
Its waters were visited in 1805 by England's one-eyed, one-armed
sailor-man, while in pursuit of the French and Spanish warships which
he had chased from Gibraltar to the Caribbean Sea and thence back
to Trafalgar, where Spain lost its navy and England her greatest
admiral. "Had Nelson found the hostile squadron under the lee of
Trinidad, the delta of the Orinoco would now be as famous in naval
history as the delta of the Nile."
It is, however, the imposing figure of Spain's great admiral, Cristobal
Colon, that looms highest in these parts. He it was that gave the
chief promontories of island and mainland, and the channels that
separate the one from the other, many of the names they still bear.
Far down to the south is La Boca de la Sierpe--the Serpent's Mouth--the
channel that separates the southwesternmost point of Trinidad from
Venezuela. It was through this channel that Columbus passed when he
entered the gulf in which we now are, and from which he got his first
view of the mainland of the New World. But he did not realize at first
the magnitude of his discovery. Thinking the land he saw on his port
quarter was an island--for during his two preceding voyages he had
seen nothing but islands, outside of Cuba, which he fancied to be the
eastern part of Asia--he named it Isla Santa, or Holy Island. A short
distance to the northwest of us is La Boca del Draco, the Dragon's
Mouth, through which the great navigator
"Push'd his prows into the setting sun,
And made West East."
The names Serpent's Mouth and Dragon's Mouth were given to the two
straits mentioned on account of the strong currents found there and
on account of the danger Columbus experienced in taking his ships
through them. His letter to Ferdinand and Isabella contains a graphic
description of the dangers he encountered while passing through the
Serpent's Mouth. "In the dead of night," he writes, "while I was
on deck, I heard an awful roaring, that came from the south, toward
the ship; on the top of this rolling sea came a mighty wave roaring
with a frightful noise, and with all this terrific uproar were other
conflicting currents, producing, as I have already said, a sound as
of breakers upon rocks. To this day I have a vivid recollection of
the dread I then felt lest the ship might flounder under the force of
that tremendous sea; but it passed by, and reached the mouth of the
before-mentioned passage, where the uproar lasted for a considerable
time." [57] He had similar difficulty in making his exit through the
Dragon's Mouth.
No wonder that the frightened sailors of Columbus imagined that they
were the sport of the Evil One. "Being in the region of Paria," writes
Navarrete, "the Admiral asked the pilots what they made their position
to be; some said that they were in the sea of Spain, others that they
were in the sea of Scotland, and that all the seamen were in despair,
and said the Devil had brought them there." [58]
Columbus, as has been stated, at first considered the land on his
port side to be insular in character, but before he left the Gulf of
Paria he was evidently convinced by the raging surges of fresh water
that had nearly swamped his ships, that he had discovered a land of
continental dimensions. In his letter to the Spanish sovereigns he
writes, "This land, which your highnesses have sent me to explore,
is very extensive, and I think there are many other countries in the
south of which the world has never had any knowledge."
He had observed that a very large river debouched from the land of
Gracia and he at once "rightly conjectured that the currents and the
overwhelming mountains of water which rushed into these straits with
such an awful roaring, arose from the contest between the fresh water
and the sea. The fresh water struggled with the salt to oppose its
entrance and the salt water contended against the fresh in its efforts
to gain a passage outward. And I formed the conjecture, that at one
time there was a continuous neck of land from the island of Trinidad
and the land of Gracia, where the two straits now are." All these
conclusions have been confirmed by the observations of subsequent
explorers.
What, however, will most interest the curious reader are the
speculations into which Columbus was led by the various phenomena
observed in the Gulf of Paria. The most fantastic, from our modern
point of view, were his theories regarding the form of the earth and
the location of the Terrestrial Paradise.
Before his arrival in the Gulf of Paria, he had been a firm believer
in the sphericity of the earth, but in this part of the world he had
observed so many new and unexpected features--"so much irregularity,"
as he phrased it--that he came "to another conclusion respecting the
shape of the earth, namely: that it is not round, as they describe,
but of the form of a pear, which is very round except where the stalk
grows, at which part it is most prominent."
It is very easy for us, in the light of all the advance in
scientific knowledge since his time, to smile at his hypotheses,
and the reasonings by which he arrived at his conclusions. What
seemed plausible then appears preposterous now. But we must remember
that the proofs of the rotundity of the earth before his time were
quite empirical, and were far from having the demonstrative force
of those that are now adduced. All the epoch-making work in physics
and astronomy by such men as Galileo and Kepler, Newton and Laplace,
Huyghens and Foucault, and the French academicians, bearing on the form
of our globe, has been accomplished since his time. If we now know that
the earth has the form of an oblate spheroid and not that of a pear, it
is in consequence of the progress of physical astronomy during the four
centuries that have elapsed since Columbus sailed the western seas.
Before his time the learned had located the earthly paradise in
various parts of the eastern hemisphere. Some contended that it was
in Mesopotamia, others that it was in Ethiopia near the head waters
of the Nile, but all agreed that it was somewhere in the East. Now
Columbus, who imagined he had reached the eastern part of Asia, by
sailing westwards from Spain, thought he had incontrovertible evidence
for locating the Garden of Eden in the newly discovered land of Gracia.
"I do not suppose," he writes, "that the Earthly Paradise is in
the form of a rugged mountain, as the descriptions of it have made
it appear, but that it in on the summit of the spot which I have
described as being in the form of the stalk of a pear; the approach
of it from a distance must be by a constant and gradual ascent; but
I believe that, as I have already said, no one could ever reach the
top"--except "by God's permission," as he asserts elsewhere. "I think
also that the water I have described may proceed from it, though it
be far off, and that, stopping at the place which I have just left,
it forms this lake. There are great indications of this being the
Terrestrial Paradise, for its site coincides with the opinions of
the holy and wise theologians whom I have mentioned; and moreover,
the other evidences agree with the supposition, for I have never
either read or heard of fresh water coming in so large a quantity,
in closer conjunction with the sea. The idea is also corroborated by
the blandness of the temperature, and if the water of which I speak
does not proceed from the Earthly Paradise, it appears to be still
more marvelous, for I do not believe there is any river in the world
so large or so deep." [59]
Besides Nelson and Columbus, a third celebrated seaman visited this
part of the world. This was Sir Walter Raleigh, of whom we shall have
more to say as we proceed. [60]
Our parting view of the forest-clad mountains of Trinidad we shall
never forget. The sun was setting on the mainland--the land of Gracia
of Columbus--but before disappearing below the horizon he tinged
Iere's mountains with a parting smile and enveloped them in a
"--soft and purple mist
Like a vaporous amethyst;"
reminding one of the azure haze that veils Hymettus as the sun sinks
behind Parnassus in an evening in June--something that only the gifted
Greek poet has ever been able adequately to describe.
The shades of night had fallen long before we reached the Serpent's
Mouth, which we were obliged to pass before entering the Macareo, one
of the numerous channels of the Orinoco delta. We were thus deprived
of the opportunity of getting a good view of the huge billows that
are produced by the meeting of river and sea, of which Columbus has
given us so graphic a description.
Those of the passengers that were disposed to become seasick retired
to their staterooms before we arrived at the Macareo bar, where the sea
is roughest, and where the ground-swells are most unpleasant. For half
an hour or more the steamer tossed considerably, reminding one of the
English Channel in stormy weather. But the impact of surge against
surge, of which Columbus speaks, was much less than we had been
led to anticipate, and there was little indication of the forcible
eddies of the "violentlie swift Orinoco," which caused Raleigh so
much embarrassment.
This was easily accounted for, as the rainy season had not yet
set in, and the waters at the various estuaries were, therefore,
comparatively little agitated. Columbus, however, arrived here
towards the end of the rainy season, when the floods of the Orinoco
were at their height, while Raleigh came after the rainy season was
quite well advanced. Again, ours was a fairly good-sized steamer and
better adapted to stem wave and current than were the fragile barks
of Columbus, or the frail wherries and cock-boats of Raleigh. When the
floods of the Orinoco were at high-water mark, we can well understand
that the early navigators had reason to be deeply impressed by the
dangers that confronted them in these seething and roaring waters,
and that, to their exalted imaginations, the realities of their
surroundings were in nowise short of the fancies of the poet as
indicated in the verses at the head of this chapter. Indeed, so great
were the supposed difficulties, and so dangerous the climate in these
parts, that sailors were wont to say,
"Quien se va al Orinoco,
Si no se muere, se vuelve loco." [61]
When it comes to navigating the less known rivers and
caños--channels--which, like a network, intersect the delta in every
direction, the difficulty and danger are even now so great that the
most skilled Indian pilots often become bewildered. When this occurs
nothing remains but to follow the current until one reaches the gulf,
and then enter a branch with which one is familiar. Sir Walter gives
such a graphic account of the difficulties he experienced in reaching
"the great riuer Orenoque," that I reproduce in his own words a part
of a paragraph bearing on the subject.
After telling us how his Indian pilot had gotten lost in the maze
of caños through which he was trying to grope his way, he says:
"If God had not sent vs another helpe we might haue wandred a whole
yeere in that laborinth of riuers, ere we had found any way, either
out or in, especiallie after we were past the ebbing and flowing,
which was in fower daies: for I know all the earth doth not yeeld
the like confluence of streames and branches, the one crossing the
other as many times, and all as faire and large and so like one to
another, as no man can tell which to take: and if we went by the Sun
or compasse hoping thereby to go directly one way or other, yet that
waie we were also carried in a circle amongst multitudes of Islands,
and euery Island so bordered with high trees as no man could see any
further than the bredth of the riuer, or length of the breach." [62]
Exaggerated as this account seems, it does scant justice to the
reality. Raleigh had no opportunity to explore the delta, and to
acquire definite notions of its immensity, or he would have had
much more to add to the foregoing description of its extent and
marvels. Even to-day we have no map of this region, which is, in
many respects, as unknown as the least explored part of Central
Africa. As yet our knowledge of land and river is limited only to
its most salient features, but this is quite sufficient to excite our
wonder. Suffice it to say that the area of the delta is greater than
that of Sicily; that its base, from its main branch at the Boca de
Navios to the embouchure of the Manamo, is nearly two hundred miles
in length; that the Orinoco, at the bifurcation of its two principal
branches, is twelves miles in width; that there are no fewer than fifty
branches conveying the waters of the mighty river into the Atlantic;
that the lowlands of the delta are divided into thousands of islands,
and islets, by a network of rivers diverging in fan-shape towards the
sea, and by innumerable caños and bayous, some with stagnant water,
others with strong currents, ramifying in every direction in straight
lines and in curves, so that escape from their intricacies by any one,
except an experienced pilot, would be as impossible as would have
been an exit from the Cretan labyrinth without the clew of Ariadne.
When we arose the morning after leaving Trinidad, our steamer had
already advanced quite a distance on its way through the Macareo. This
brazo, or branch, is chosen not because it is the largest or the
deepest, but because it affords the shortest and most direct route
between the Port-of-Spain and Ciudad Bolivar. Although the distance to
this latter place from the mouth of the Macareo is only two hundred
and sixty miles, it usually required nearly two days, counting the
stops on the way, for the trip up the river, so strong is the current
The return trip, however, can be made in much less time.
We shall never forget our first view of the Orinoco and of the
impressions we then received. Was it that we were at last sailing in
the placid waters of the one river of all the world that we had from
our youth most yearned to behold, or was it that we had been dreaming
of the site and beauties of the Terrestrial Paradise, as fancied by
Columbus to exist in these parts, or was it because of both these
elements combined? We know not, but one thing is certain, and that
is that our first view of the Orinoco and its forest-shaded banks,
festooned with vines and flowers, recalled at once those musical
words of Dante,
"Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread
O'er the serene aspect of the pure air,
High up as the first circle, to mine eyes
Unwonted joy renewed." [63]
and brought vividly back to memory his inimitable description of
his entrance into the Garden of Eden, where he was to meet again his
long-lost Beatrice.
To emphasize the illusion, there suddenly appeared under a noble
moriche palm on the flower-enameled bank of the river and only a few
rods from where we were standing, two children of the forest--a young
man and a young woman--bride and groom, we loved to think--who were
as Columbus found the American, as Adam and Eve were after the fall,
when, in the words of Milton,
"Those leaves
They gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,
And with what skill they had, together sewed
To gird their waist."
Handsome was the youth and beautiful was the maiden, strong as
Hiawatha, fair as Minnehaha--both fit models for sculptor and painter,
and such as the poet dreams of when depicting his heroes and heroines
of the forest primeval.
Were they the king and queen of their tribe? Fancy said, "Yes." But
whether they were or not, one could say with truth that the tan-colored
maid was like the one Raleigh met along this very same river and who,
in his own words, "was as well fauored and as well shaped as euer I
saw anie in England." [64]
Near this interesting young couple, both in the heyday of youth,
lay a cluster of plantains, which was doubtless to contribute to
their morning repast. But what a coincidence that, even in this
trifling circumstance, we should find an additional reminder of the
Earthly Paradise! Have not men of science named the plantain Musa
Paradisaica, in allusion to the tradition, which has long obtained,
that it was the plantain, and not the apple, that was the forbidden
fruit in Eden? [65] It was there to fill out the picture as an artist
in the tropics would wish to see it painted.
But there was still something wanting. While we were yet under the
spell of our environment, and lost in the contemplation of the Edenic
beauties around us, we were awakened from our reverie by a plunge and a
splash before the prow of our vessel--and there, greatest surprise of
all in our series of coincidences, was a giant anaconda, full thirty
feet long, vigorously plowing its way to the opposite bank of the
river. It was like the water-snakes in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
"Blue, glossy, green and velvet black,
It coiled and swam,
And when it reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes."
So startling was this strange apparition that we could scarcely
credit our senses, and, had it not been for exclamations of surprise
by several of the passengers near by, we should have thought, for a
while, that it was all a dream.
The picture was now complete. There was the serpent in this paradise
of delights, as in the paradise of our first parents. And what added
to the strangeness--the uncanniness--of the appearance of the serpent
at this particular juncture was the extraordinary rarity of such an
occurrence. One of the officers of the steamer told us that he had
been sailing up and down the Orinoco for twenty years and had never
seen one of these boas before. And more wonderful still, it was the
first and last we ourselves saw, although we subsequently traveled
many thousands of miles on tropical rivers along which such serpents
have their habitat. [66]
All in all, our first view of the Orinoco fully met our fondest
expectations so far as they related to variety and exuberance of
vegetation and beauty of scenery. The entire delta of the Orinoco
may aptly be described as one of Nature's choicest conservatories,
in which Flora has collected together the fairest growths of garden
and forest, and where the charm of foliage and flower is enhanced by
the presence of countless species of the feathered tribe of richest
plumage and of dazzling hue.
A distinguished German traveler, Friedrich Gerstäcker, writing of his
impressions of the delta of the Orinoco, does not hesitate to declare
that "there is not in the world anything more glorious in vegetation
than is to be seen on the banks of the Orinoco," and that there is
no place more attractive to the tourist. [67]
To form some conception of the wonderful variety of vegetable life
to be seen in the delta, it will suffice to observe that a third of
a century ago botanists had counted in the forests of Guiana no fewer
than 132 families of plants, 772 genera and 2,450 distinct species. Of
the genera more than sixty were indigenous.
Although we saw many things in the delta of the Orinoco that
possessed intense interest for us, we saw none of the natives living
in houses built on the summits of trees, about which some recent
writers, following Raleigh, Humboldt and others, still entertain
their readers. To tell the truth, we did not expect to find such
dwellings, as it has been demonstrated beyond question that they do
not now exist, and probably never did exist in these parts outside
of the fertile imaginations of Raleigh and Gumilla. Humboldt never
visited the delta, and hence, what he says on the subject in Personal
Narrative of Travels to the Equinoctial Regions, is based on reports
received from others. [68]
Cardinal Bembo, writing in the first half of the sixteenth century,
speaks of them, and Benzoni, his contemporary, who spent fifteen years
in traveling in the New World, illustrates by an engraving what he
has to say about the Indian houses built on the tops of trees. [69]
Ferdinand Columbus, who, although a mere youth, had accompanied his
father on his fourth voyage, writes, that when in the Gulf of Uraba,
"We saw people living like birds in the tops of trees, laying sticks
across from bough to bough, and building their huts upon them; and
though we knew not the reason of the custom, we guessed that it was
done for fear of their enemies, or of the griffins that are in this
island." [70]
Peter Martyr, who most likely got his information about these strange
dwellings from Ferdinand Columbus, tells us that the trees on which
they were built were of "suche heighth, that the strength of no mane's
arme is able to hurle a stone to the houses buylded therein." He adds,
however, that the owners of the houses have "theyr wyne cellers in
the grounde and well replenysshed." And he vouchsafes the reason for
not keeping the wine, with "all other necessayre thinges they haue,
with theym in the trees. For albeit that the vehemencie of the wynde,
is not of poure to caste downe those houses, or to breeke the branches
of the trees, yet are they tossed therwith, and swaye sumwhat from
syde to syde, by reason therof, the wyne shulde be muche troubeled
with moouinge.... When the Kynge or any of the other noblemen, dyne or
suppe in these trees, theyr wynes are brought theym from the celleres
by theyr seruantes, whyche by meanes of exercise are accustomed with
noo lesse celeritie to runne vppe and downe the steares adherete to
the tree, then doo owre waytynge boyes vppon the playne grounde, fetche
vs what wee caule for from the cobbarde bysyde owr dynynge table."
As to the size of the trees the same writer avers, "Owr men measuringe
manye of these trees, founde them to bee of suche biggnes, that seuen
men, ye sumetymes eight, holdinge hande in hande with theyr armes
streached furthe, were scarcely able to fathame them aboute." [71]
Raleigh had evidently read some of these accounts about people living
on tree tops, but not satisfied with the Munchausen tales of his
predecessors, he proceeds to entertain his readers with stories as
marvelous as those of Sindbad the Sailor.
Writing of the Indians of the delta, he says: "In the winter they
dwell vpon the trees, where they build very artificiall towns, and
villages, ... for between May and September, the riuer Orenoke riseth
thirtie foote vpright, and then are those Ilands ouerflowen twentie
foote high aboue the leuell of the ground, sauing some few raised
grounds in the middle of them.... They neuer eate of anie thing that
is set or sowen, and as at home they vse neither planting nor other
manurance, so when they com abroad the refuse to feede of ought but
of that which nature without labor bringeth foorth." [72]
Of the Waraus, the Indians who inhabit the delta, the missionary, Padre
Gumilla, writes that when their islands are periodically inundated
by the rise of the Orinoco, they erect their huts on piles--not on
trees, as Raleigh states--above the water. Furthermore, he tells us
that these huts are made of the moriche palm, which grows abundantly
in these islands, and are covered with the leaves of it. From the
fibres of the leaf, they make their hammocks and their cords for
fishing and for bowstrings.
Around the pulpy shoot that ascends from the trunks is a web-like
integument that serves them for the slight covering they wear. On
the productions of this tree, also, they entirely subsist. The pulpy
shoot is eaten as cabbage, and the tree bears a fruit like the date,
but somewhat larger. When the inundation ceases, the tree is cut down,
and being perforated, a palatable juice exudes, from which they make
a drink. The interior substance of it is then taken out and thrown
into vessels of water and well washed and the ligneous fibres being
removed, a white sediment is deposited, which, dried in the sun,
is made into a very wholesome bread. [73]
Accepting the foregoing statements as true, Humboldt philosophizes as
follows: "It is curious to observe in the lowest degree of civilization
the existence of a whole tribe depending on a single species of palm
tree, similar to those insects which feed on one and the same flower,
or on one and the same part of a plant." [74]
Yet, notwithstanding all that has been written about the Indians of
the Orinoco delta living on the tops of trees, and depending on only
the moriche palm for food and raiment, it is certain that they do not
do so now, and it is almost equally certain that they have never done
so in the past. Truth to tell, these stories seem to repose on little
better foundation than those so long circulated and credited regarding
Lake Parime, and the great city of Manoa--the home of El Dorado.
Raleigh had no time or opportunity to explore the delta, and there is
reason to believe that in this, as in other matters, he gave free reign
to his fancy to satisfy his reader's desire for the marvelous. Gumilla,
apparently, got his information regarding these particular subjects
at secondhand. He spent many years on the middle Orinoco and some of
its affluents, but there is no evidence that he was ever in a position
to verify the stories so long current regarding the manner of living
of the inhabitants of the delta.
The fact is, no one, so far as known, ever made any attempt to explore
the interior of the delta until more than two centuries after Raleigh's
time and until nearly a half century after Humboldt's visit to the
valley of the Orinoco. As a consequence, all that had been reported by
earlier writers was exaggeration and guesswork, if not pure invention.
Sir Robert Schomburgk, who, as Her Majesty's commissioner to survey
the boundaries of British Guiana, explored the delta in 1841--and
some months of his sojourn there was during the rainy season--states
explicitly, that not in a single instance did he find Indians dwelling
on trees. "We can well suppose that the numerous fires which were
made in each hut, and the reflection of which was the stronger in
consequence of the stream of vapor around the summit of trees in
those moist regions, illuminated at night the adjacent trees; but
the fire itself was scarcely ever made on the top of a tree. The
inundation rises at the delta seldom higher than three or four feet
above the banks of the rivers;"--not twenty or thirty feet, as Raleigh
asserts--"and if the immediate neighborhood of the sea and the level
nature of the land be considered, this is an enormous rise." [75]
Herr Appun, who visited the delta some years subsequently to
Schomburgk's sojourn there, declares, "I have lived more than a year
and a half among the Waraus of the Orinoco delta, and those of the
east coast of South America, from Cape Sabinetta to Cape Nassau, at
the mouth of the Pomeroon river in British Guiana, both during the
dry and the rainy season, and never have I beheld any of the aerial
dwellings that have been described." [76]
The one, however, who has most thoroughly explored the interior
of the delta is Sr. Andres E. Level, who spent several years among
the Waraus, or Guaraunos, as they are called by the Spaniards. His
investigations have completely exploded the false notions so long
entertained regarding the delta and its inhabitants. The land is not
all an impassable swamp. Much of it is so elevated above the river
that it is never reached by the high floods of the Orinoco.
Its soil is even more fertile than that of the Nile valley and produces
every tropical fruit and tree in the greatest profusion. Game is
abundant, and the Indians have extensive rancherias--plantations--which
supply them grain, fruits and vegetables of all kinds. In the rivers
near by they have the greatest variety of fish, besides turtle that
would be the delight of the epicure.
As the Waraus of the interior are a timid people and have long since
learned to distrust the white man, they remain, as a rule, concealed in
the depths of forests that are impassable. They are, however, a quiet,
industrious, home-loving people, and are famous among the tribes in
this section of Guiana for their beautiful curiaras, or canoes--made
from a single log of the cedar, or of a tree called Bioci. Some of
these dugouts--the monoxyla of the Greeks--are full fifty feet long
and from five to six feet broad and find a ready sale as far south
as Demerara.
Far from being a dismal swamp, inhabited only by poor, starving
savages, condemned to live on tree tops, and to find food and clothing
in a single palm, Sr. Level [77] shows us that the delta is a garden
of exceeding richness and that the Indians, if the government did
its duty towards them by developing the marvelous resources of their
land and by giving its inhabitants, so long neglected, some measure of
attention and assistance, would eventually make efficient contributors
to the national revenue, and become desirable citizens of the republic.