was anything but sure footing, and even had it been a flat plank, the
depth of the chasm--nearly an hundred feet clear--and the white roaring
torrent below, were enough to shake the stoutest nerves. All, however,
got over in safety, and proceeded up to the palm-woods. I say all--but
I mean only the male population of the new settlement. Dona Isidora and
the little Leona remained by the camp, both of them busy scraping
_yucca_ roots, to be manufactured into cassava, and then into bread.
On arriving among the palm-trees, Don Pablo was struck with a singular
fact. He observed (indeed, he had already noticed as much from the
opposite side of the river) that instead of one species of palm, there
were not less than a dozen kinds growing in this wood. This was a very
unusual circumstance, as although two or three species are often found
together, such a varied collection as were there could only have been
made by human hands. Here, again, was recognised the work of the
missionary monk, who had no doubt planted most of the species, having
received them very likely from many distant stations of his
fellow-labourers in other parts of the Amazon valley.
Whether Franciscan, Jesuit, or Dominican (for all three have had their
missions in this part of the world), the holy father who resided here,
thought Don Pablo, must have been an ardent horticulturist. Whether or
not he converted many Indians to his faith, he seemed to have exerted
himself to provide for their temporal necessities, for there was hardly
a useful plant or tree suitable to the climate that was not to be found
growing near the spot. Such were the reflections of Don Pablo.
"What a variety of beautiful palms!" said he, looking around upon these
by far the fairest forms of the vegetable creation.
Now, my boy reader, I have not the slightest doubt but that you, too,
think the palms the fairest forms of the vegetable creation. I have not
the shadow of a doubt that your heart beats joyfully at the very word
"palm;" that you love to gaze at one of these stately trees, and that
you would give all your pocket-money for an afternoon's ramble through a
real palm-wood. Would you not? Yes. I am sure of it. Now I could
tell you a great deal about palms if I would; and I would, too, if my
space and time allowed me, but neither will, alas! Why, if I were only
to give you even the shortest and dryest botanic description of all the
different palms that are known to us, that mere dry catalogue would fill
a book as big as this one!
How many species do you think there are? Up to this time you have
thought, perhaps, there was only one, and that was the _palm-tree
itself_. Maybe you had heard of more, such as the sago-palm, the
cocoa-nut palm, the date-palm, or the cabbage-palm; and you fancied
there might be others--perhaps as many as a dozen! Now you will hardly
credit me when I tell you that we know of no less than _six hundred
species of palms_, all differing from each other! I may add, further,
that it is my belief that there exist on the earth as many more--that
is, the enormous number of twelve hundred. The reason why I entertain
this belief is, that in all cases where similar guesses have been
hazarded--whether with regard to plants, or birds, or _mammalia_--they
have eventually proved far below the mark; and as the palm countries are
the very regions of the earth least known and least explored by
botanists, it is but reasonable to conclude that great numbers of
species have never yet been described, nor even seen. Another fact
which strengthens this probability is, that peculiar species of palms
are sometimes found only in a limited district, and nowhere else in the
same country. A small river even sometimes forms the boundary-line of a
species; and although whole groves may be seen on the one side, not a
tree of the same sort grows on the other. Some botanists even
prognosticate that more than two thousand species of palms will yet
become known. Of the six hundred species known, about half belong to
the Old World, and half to America. In America they are chiefly found
growing on the Continent--although several species are natives of the
West India Islands--while on the Eastern hemisphere the greatest number
of species belong to the islands.
I might tell you a great deal of the importance of these noble trees to
the human race, for they are as useful as they are beautiful. Almost
every sort has its particular use in the economy of human life. Not
only do they serve certain purposes in Africa, Asia, America, and
Oceanica, but in all these divisions of the earth there are whole
nations who _live almost exclusively_ upon one or another species of
palm.
A discovery has lately been made in regard to an African species, which
it is to be hoped will have an important influence in doing away with
the infamous slave traffic so long existing in that unhappy country.
You have heard of _palm-oil_. Well, it is extracted from the nuts of a
species of palm. The oil is no new discovery, but it is only lately
that it has been found to be as quite as good for the manufacture of
candles as either spermaceti or wax. The consequence has been a great
increase in the traffic of this article on the western coast of Africa;
and the native princes, finding that it is more profitable than
slave-selling, have in many parts given up the last-named atrocious
commerce, and have taken to gathering palm-oil. If a palm-tree can
effect what has baffled the skill of the combined philanthropists and
powers of Europe, then, indeed, we shall say, "All honour to the noble
palms."
But I might go on talking of palms until our little volume came to an
end. I must, therefore, no longer speak generally of these beautiful
trees, but confine myself to such species as came under the observation,
and ministered to the wants, of the new settlers.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A HOUSE OF PALMS.
The first species of palms that attracted the observation of Don Pablo
and his party, was that known as the "patawa" palm. It belongs to the
genus _Cenocarpus_. There are several species of this genus in South
America, but none more beautiful than the "patawa." It is a palm with a
straight smooth stem, and pinnate leaves--the stem being sixty feet in
height, and about a foot in diameter. The stem becomes smooth only in
old trees. In the young ones, and even in those that stand in a thick
shady forest, it presents a very shaggy appearance, and is completely
hidden by the bases of the old leaves that have decayed and fallen off.
From the margins of these bases grow spinous processes of nearly three
feet in length, which point upward. These are used by the Indians to
make the arrows of their "blow-guns," of which more hereafter. From the
fruits of this palm a most delicious drink is manufactured with very
little trouble. The fruit itself is about the size of a plum, but of an
oval shape and deep violet colour. It grows in large clusters just
under the leaves. To make the drink, the fruits are thrown into a
vessel of hot water, where they remain for a few minutes until the pulp
becomes soft. The hot water is next poured off, and cold water is
substituted. In this the fruits are crushed and rubbed with the hands
until all the pulp is washed from the stones. The liquid is then
strained so as to separate the stones and other substances, when it is
ready for use, and a most luxurious beverage it is,--in its taste
bearing some resemblance to filberts and cream.
A palm called the "assai" has a small sloe-like fruit which produces a
similar beverage--thick and creamy, and of a fine plum colour. In all
the Portuguese settlements the "assai" is a favourite drink, and is
taken along with cassava bread, as we use milk or coffee.
It was not on account of its fruit, however, that Don Pablo rejoiced at
beholding the "patawa" palms. Perhaps Leon thought more about the rich
clusters of oval plums, but his father looked only to the straight
smooth stems which were designed for corner-posts, beams, and the
heavier woodwork of the house.
In a few minutes Guapo was busy with his axe, and one after another fell
the princely trunks of the "patawa" until enough were cut down for their
purpose.
Don Pablo next looked out for some palm of a more slender trunk for the
rafters and joists.
This was soon found in the "catinga," which is a species of the "assai"
palm (_Euterpe_), the one of which we have just spoken as producing the
"assai wine." The catinga was the very thing for the rafters. It is
tall, nearly forty feet high, but quite slender. It is one of the
smooth palms, with pinnate leaves, not unlike those of the "patawa."
There is a peculiarity about its top,--that is, there is a column or
sheath of several feet in length, out of which the leaves spring, and,
at the lower end of this column, and not immediately at the root of the
leaves, the fruit clusters grow. This sheathing column is of a red
colour, which gives the tree a strange look. Another peculiarity of the
catinga is that its roots grow out of the ground, and from a little cone
from the top of which rises the stem. The fruits of this sort are
smaller than the true assai, but a drink is also made from them which
some people consider more delicious than that either of the assai or
patawa. The rafters then were got from the catinga.
Now for the thatch, that was the next consideration.
"Master!" cried Guapo, pointing off into the woods. "Yonder's
`bussu,'--very thing for thatch!"
Guapo indicated a very singular-looking tree, with a thick, clumsy,
crooked, and deeply ringed stem. It was not a bit like either of the
palm-trees they had already cut down. Its trunk was not over ten or a
dozen feet high, but then, such leaves! They were not pinnated like
those already described, but what is termed "entire," that is, all in
one piece, and thirty feet in length by full five in width! Fancy two
or three dozen of these gigantic leaves standing up almost erect from
the top of the thick trunk, and you may form some idea of the "bussu"
palm. There are many palm-trees whose leaves are used for thatching
houses, but of all others for that purpose the bussu is the best. These
great fronds have a mid-rib, and from this, on both sides, run veins in
a diagonal direction to the edge. When they are used for thatch the
leaf is split up the mid-rib, and then each half is laid upon the
rafters, not straight, but in such a way that the veins of the leaf will
lie in a vertical direction, and thus serve as gutters to guide the
rain-water down the roof. A very few leaves will thatch a house, and a
covering of this kind, when properly laid on, will last for ten or
twelve years. So much are the bussu-leaves prized for thatch, that the
Indians, in parts where this palm does not grow, often make a canoe
voyage of a week to procure them!
The spathe which contains the flowers is also put to many uses. It is
of a long spindle shape, of fibrous, cloth-like texture, and brown
colour. The Indians use it as cloth. It makes an excellent bag, in
which the native carries his paints or other articles; and a large one,
stretched out, makes a very comfortable cap. Indeed, Guapo used the
first spathe he laid his hands upon for this very purpose.
There remained now to be found some palm-tree that would split easily,
and make laths for the roof, as well as planks for the door, shelves,
and benches. They soon discovered the very palm for these purposes. It
was one of the genus _Iriartea_, and known as the "pashiuba" palm. It
was a tree that differed from all the others in its aspect. It was a
noble-looking tree, rising with a smooth stem, to the height of seventy
feet. At its top, there was a sheathing column swollen larger than the
stem, and not unlike the sheathing column of the catinga already
mentioned, except that that of the pashiuba was of a deep green colour.
Its leaves, however, differed materially from those of the catinga. It
is true, that, like them, they were pinnate, but the leaflets, instead
of being slender and tapering, were of a triangular shape, notched along
the edges, and not growing very regularly out from the mid-rib. Their
general arrangement, as well as the form, therefore, gave the tree a
different, and, perhaps, more beautiful aspect. But the most singular
characteristic of the pashiuba was its roots. I have said that the
roots of the catinga rose above the surface of the soil. So did they,
but only to a limited height, forming a little cone. Now the roots of
the pashiuba stood up to the height of ten or a dozen feet! Each root
was nearly straight in itself, but there were a number of them, and they
sloped upwards so as to make a sort of pyramid, out of the apex of which
grew the stem. There were wide spaces between the roots--so wide that
you could easily pass through, and a full-grown man might stand upright
with his head under the very base of the stem. Fancy a man standing
under the trunk of a tree that rose seventy feet above his head!
There were young trees of the same species growing around, and these
were miniature models of the older ones. Sometimes these lesser ones
are supported on three roots, like the tripod of a surveyor's compass,
and this gives them a somewhat ludicrous appearance. There are many
species of this sort of palms, which are classed under the genus
_Iriartea_. In most of them the fruit, which is small oval and red or
yellow, is bitter and uneatable; but their wood is prized for many
purposes. The wood of the species which Don Pablo had found is hard on
the outside, but soft within, and splits readier into laths and planks
than any other kind of palm.
Guapo attacked the roots with his axe, and enough trunks were soon
felled to make laths, doors, and all sorts of benches.
The different kinds were now collected on the edge of the stream, and
were tied together by a rope-like, creeping plant, called a "Sipo," so
that they formed a rude raft. The leaves of the "bussu," with great
clusters of the fruits of the catinga and patawa, were laid upon the
raft; and then, Guapo, mounting himself on top of all, pushed out with
his long pole, and ferried the whole across. The others walked round by
the bridge, and were just in time to assist Guapo in mooring his
somewhat unwieldy craft.
Next day the framework of the house was put up, and on the day after the
walls. These were made of bamboo-canes (_Bambusa guadua_), plenty of
which grew near the bottom of the valley. They grew wild, for the
slopes of the Andes are the favourite soil of these gigantic grasses.
They were set on end, side by side, and then tied to each other and to
the beams of palm-trees. On the third day the "bussu" leaves were laid
on, and the house was finished.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
TRACKING THE TAPIR.
It has been already mentioned that the stream in front of the house was
wider than at other parts, forming a sort of lake. There was a slow
current down the middle, but at the sides the water was nearly stagnant,
and there grew in some places bunches of flags interspersed with
beautiful white lilies. Among these could be distinguished that
gigantic _nympha_ so celebrated under the name of _Victoria regia_--for
South America is the native country of this rare plant.
Every night, as our party were resting from their labours, they heard
strange noises proceeding from the water. There was plunging and
plashing, and now and then a snorting sound like that sometimes uttered
by frightened swine. Perhaps it would have puzzled any of them to tell
whence these sounds proceeded, or what animal gave utterance to them,
for there could be no doubt they were caused by an animal. Some of them
guessed "alligators;" but that was not a correct guess, for although
there are plenty of alligators in all the rivers of tropical America,
there seemed to be none in that particular place. In truth, they might
have remained long in the dark about what creature they thus heard
sweltering about nightly, for they could neither see nor hear anything
of it in the day; but Guapo, who knew every sound of the Montana,
enlightened them at once. Guapo had been a keen _tapir-hunter_ in his
time, and understood all the habits of that strange animal. It was a
tapir, then, which they had heard taking his regular nightly bath, and
regaling himself on the roots of the flags and _nymphae_.
Have you ever seen a tapir? Not a living one, I fancy; perhaps the skin
of one in a museum. He is an interesting creature, for this reason--
that he is the largest land animal indigenous to South America. The
llama and guanaco stand higher, because their legs are longer, but they
are far inferior to the tapir in bulk and weight: while the bears of
South America, of which there are two or three species, are small-sized
bears, and therefore less than the tapir. In fact, no very large land
animals were found indigenous in the southern division of the American
continent. There were none of the _bovine_ tribe, as the buffalo and
musk-ox of North America; and no large deer, as the elk and moose of the
Northern latitudes. The deer of South America, of which there are
several undescribed species, are all small animals. The tapir, then, in
point of size takes precedence in the South-American _fauna_.
His rounded body gives him some resemblance to a great hog, or a donkey
with its hair shaved off; but, in fact, he is not very like either; he
is more like a _tapir_ than anything else--that is, he is a creature
_sui generis_. Perhaps, if you were to shave a large donkey, cut off
most part of his ears and tail, shorten his limbs--and, if possible,
make them stouter and clumsier--lengthen his upper jaw so that it should
protrude over the under one into a prolonged curving snout, and then
give him a coat of blackish-brown paint, you would get something not
unlike a tapir. To complete the resemblance, however, you would have to
continue the erect mane over the forehead, between the ears, and down to
the level of the eyes, which would give that crested appearance that
characterises the tapir. Instead of hoofs, moreover, you would give
your donkey large toes--four upon the fore feet, and upon the hind ones
three. A little silky hair upon the stumped tail, and a few thinly
scattered hairs of a brown colour over the body, would make the likeness
still more striking; and it would be necessary, too, that the donkey be
one of the very biggest kind to be as big as a big tapir.
The tapir is a harmless creature, and although it has a good set of
teeth, it never uses them for the purpose of defending itself. When
attacked by either men or fierce animals, it tries to escape by flight,
and if that fails, submits to be killed; but there is no "light" to be
got out of a tapir.
The tapir leads a very solitary life, being met with alone, or sometimes
in the company of the female. The latter has but one young at a birth,
which follows her until able to provide for itself; when they associate
no longer together, but part company, each taking its own way.
This animal is called amphibious, because it spends part of its time in
the water; but, although it has been called the American representative
of the rhinoceros and hippopotamus, it is not so much a water animal as
either of these. It seeks its food in the river, or the marshes that
border it, and can remain for several minutes under water; but for all
that most of its time is passed on dry land. It sleeps during the day
in some dry spot upon a bed of withered leaves, from whence it sallies
every evening, and makes to the marshy banks of some well-known stream.
It frequently leaves its lair during rain, and goes in search of food.
Like hogs it is very fond of wallowing in a muddy place; but, unlike
these slovenly animals, it does not return to its bed until it has
plunged into the clear water, and thoroughly purified itself of the mud.
One habit of the tapir--and an unfortunate one for itself--is that in
going its rounds it always follows the old track. In this way a path is
soon formed from its lair to its feeding-place, so conspicuous that a
hunter might trail it upon the run. It is easy, therefore, to "waylay"
a tapir. Guapo knew this well, and had already, while over among the
palms, marked the track of the one that came nightly to the stream, and
had settled it in his mind that that particular tapir had not many days
to live. In fact, Leon coaxed him to fix the tapir-hunt for the next
morning, which Guapo, with Don Pablo's permission, accordingly did.
Guapo was anxious as any of them to kill the tapir, for, like many
Indians, he was fond of its flesh, though that is by no means a
palatable article of food. On the contrary, it is dry, and to most
people tastes disagreeably. Guapo, however, liked it exceedingly; and,
moreover, he wanted the tough skin for some purpose of his own. The
wild Indians value the skin highly, as it is the best thing they can
procure for "viches," or shields, to ward off the poisoned arrows of
their enemies.
Next morning, an hour or so after daybreak, Guapo started for the hunt,
accompanied by Leon. Don Pablo remained at home with his wife and the
little Leona. Now, had the tapir-hunter possessed a gun, or even a bow
and arrows, his plan of proceeding would have been different, and he
would no doubt have chosen a different hour for the hunt. He would have
chosen the twilight of the evening or morning, and would have hid
himself in the bushes, so as to command a view of the track which the
tapir would be certain to take on his way to or from the water. He
would then have simply shot the creature as it was going past; but this
is not so easy a matter neither, for the tapir, fearful of enemies while
on land, always travels at a trot. As Guapo had neither bow nor gun,
nothing in fact but his _machete_, how was he to get near enough to use
this weapon? Clumsy-looking as the tapir certainly is, he can shuffle
over the ground faster than the fastest Indian.
Guapo knew all this, but he also knew a stratagem by which the
amphibious brute could be outwitted, and this stratagem he designed
putting in practice. For the purpose he carried another weapon besides
the _machete_. That weapon was a very pacific one--it was a _spade_!
Fortunately he had one which he had brought with him from the mountains.
Now what did Guapo mean to do with the spade? The tapir is not a
burrowing animal, and therefore would not require to be "dug out." We
shall presently see what use was made of the spade.
After crossing the bridge, and getting well round among the palms, the
hunter came upon a path well tracked into the mud. It was the path of
the tapir,--that could be easily seen. There were the broad footmarks--
some with three, and others with four toes--and there, too, were places
where the animal had "wallowed." The tracks were quite fresh, and made,
as Guapo said, not an hour before they had arrived on the spot.
This was just what the tapir-hunter wanted; and, choosing a place where
the track ran between two palm-trees, and could not well have gone round
either of them, he halted, rested his _machete_ against a tree, and took
a determined hold of the spade. Leon now began to see what use he
intended to make of the spade. He was _going to dig a pit_!
That was, in fact, the very thing he was going to do, and in less than
an hour, with the help of Leon, it was done--the latter carrying away
the earth upon "bussu" leaves as fast as Guapo shovelled it out. When
the pit was sunk to what Guapo considered a sufficient depth, he came
out of it; and then choosing some slender poles, with palm-leaves,
branches, and grass, he covered it in such a manner that a fox himself
would not have known it to be a pit-trap. But such it was--wide enough
and deep enough, as Guapo deemed, to entrap the largest tapir.
It now only remained to get the tapir into it, but therein lay the
difficulty. Leon could not understand how this was to be managed. He
knew that at night, as the animal was on its way to the water, it might
step on the covering, and fall in. But Guapo had promised him that he
should see the tapir trapped in an hour's time. Guapo had a plan of his
own for bringing it that way, and he at once proceeded to put his plan
into execution.