fault. Their intention had been to proceed down along the main river,
and the creek now interfered. Its water lay directly across their
course, and how were they to get over it? Swim it, you may say. Ha!
little do you know the dread these creatures have of water. Yes;
strange to say, although many species of them pass their lives upon
trees that overhang water, or even grow out of it, they are as much
afraid of the water beneath them as if it were fire. A cat is not half
so dainty about wetting her feet as some monkeys are; and besides a cat
can swim, which the monkeys cannot--at best so badly that in a few
minutes they would drown. Strange, is it not, that among animals, those
that approach nearest to man, like him are not gifted by nature with the
power of swimming? It is evident, then, that that is an art left to be
discovered by the intellect of man. To fall into the water would be a
sad mishap for a monkey, not only on account of the ducking, but of the
danger. There is not much likelihood of an araguato falling in. Even
though one branch may have broken and failed it, in the great concave
sphere which it can so quickly trace around it by means of its five long
members, it is sure of finding a second. No; the araguatoes might spend
a lifetime in the flooded forest without even wetting a hair farther
than what is wetted by the rain.
From their movements, it was evident the igaripe had puzzled them; and a
consultation was called among the branches of the tall tree already
mentioned. Upon one of the very highest sat the large old fellow who
was evidently leader of the band. His harangue was loud and long,
accompanied by many gestures of his hands, head, and tail. It was, no
doubt, exceedingly eloquent. Similar speeches delivered by other old
araguato chiefs, have been compared to the creaking of an ungreased
bullock-cart, mingled with the rumbling of the wheels!
Our party thought the comparison a just one. The old chief finished at
length. Up to this point not one of the others had said a word. They
all sat silent, observing perfect decorum; indeed, much greater than is
observed in the great British Parliament or the Congress of America.
Occasionally one of the children might utter a slight squeak, or throw
out its hand to catch a mosquito; but in such cases a slap from the paw
of the mother, or a rough shaking, soon reduced it to quiet. When the
chief had ended speaking, however, no debate in either Congress or
Parliament could have equalled the noise that then arose. Every
araguato seemed to have something to say, and all spoke at the same
time. If the speech of the old one was like the creaking of a
bullock-cart, the voices of all combined might appropriately be compared
to a whole string of these vehicles, with half the quantity of grease
and a double allowance of wheels!
Once more the chief, by a sign, commanded silence, and the rest became
mute and motionless as before.
This time the speech of the leader appeared to refer to the business in
hand--in short, to the crossing of the igaripe. He was seen repeatedly
pointing in that direction, as he spoke, and the rest followed his
motions with their eyes.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
BRIDGING AN IGARIPE.
The tree upon which the araguatoes were assembled stood near the edge of
the water, but there was another still nearer. This was also a tall
tree free of branches for a great way up. On the opposite bank of the
igaripe was a very similar tree, and the long horizontal branches of the
two were separated from each other by a space of about twenty feet. It
was with these two trees that the attention of the araguatoes appeared
to be occupied; and our travellers could tell by their looks and
gestures that they were conversing about, and calculating, the distance
between their upper branches. For what purpose? Surely they do not
expect to be able to make a crossing between them? No creature without
wings could pass from the one to the other! Such were the questions and
doubts expressed by Leon, and indeed by all except Guapo, but Guapo had
seen araguatoes before, and knew some of their tricks. Guapo,
therefore, boldly pronounced that it was their intention to cross the
igaripe by these two trees. He was about to explain the manner in which
they would accomplish it, when the movement commenced, and rendered his
explanation quite unnecessary.
At a commanding cry from the chief, several of the largest and strongest
monkeys swung themselves into the tree that stood on the edge of the
water. Here, after a moment's reconnoissance, they were seen to get
upon a horizontal limb--one that projected diagonally over the igaripe.
There were no limbs immediately underneath it on the same side of the
tree; and for this very reason had they selected it. Having advanced
until they were near its top, the foremost of the monkeys let himself
down upon his tail, and hung head downward. Another slipped down the
body of the first, and clutched him around the neck and fore-arms with
his strong tail, with his head down also. A third succeeded the second,
and a fourth the third, and so on until a string of monkeys dangled from
the limb. A motion was now produced by the monkeys striking other
branches with their feet, until the long string oscillated back and
forwards like the pendulum of a clock. This oscillation was gradually
increased, until the monkey at the lower end was swung up among the
branches of the tree on the opposite side of the igaripe. After
touching them once or twice, he discovered that he was within reach; and
the next time when he had reached the highest point of the oscillating
curve, he threw out his long thin fore-arms, and firmly clutching the
branches, held fast.
The oscillation now ceased. The living chain stretched across the
igaripe from tree to tree, and, curving slightly, hung like a
suspension-bridge. A loud screaming, and gabbling, and chattering, and
howling, proceeded from the band of araguatoes, who, up to this time,
had watched the manoeuvres of their comrades in silence--all except the
old chief, who occasionally had given directions both with voice and
gestures. But the general gabble that succeeded was, no doubt, an
expression of the satisfaction of all that the _bridge was built_.
The troop now proceeded to cross over, one or two old ones going first--
perhaps to try the strength of the bridge. Then went the mothers
carrying their young on their backs, and after them the rest of the
band.
It was quite an amusing scene to witness, and the behaviour of the
monkeys would have caused any one to laugh. Even Guapo could not
restrain his mirth at seeing those who formed the bridge biting the
others that passed over them, both on the legs and tails, until the
latter screamed again!
The old chief stood at the near end and directed the crossing. Like a
brave officer, he was the last to pass over. When all the others had
preceded him, he crossed after, carrying himself in a stately and
dignified manner. None dared to bite at his legs. They knew better
than play off their tricks on him, and he crossed quietly and without
any molestation.
Now the string still remained suspended between the trees. How were the
monkeys that formed it to get themselves free again? Of course the one
that had clutched the branch with his arms might easily let go, but that
would bring them back to the same side from which they had started, and
would separate them from the rest of the band. Those constituting the
bridge would, therefore, be as far from crossing as ever!
There seemed to be a difficulty here--that is, to some of our
travellers. To the monkeys themselves there was none. They knew well
enough what they were about, and they would have got over the apparent
difficulty in the following manner:--The one at the tail end of the
bridge would simply have let go his hold, and the whole string would
then have swung over and hung from the tree on the opposite bank, into
which they could have climbed at their leisure. I say they _would_ have
done so had nothing interfered to prevent them from completing the
manoeuvre. But an obstacle intervened which brought the affair to a
very different termination.
Guapo had been seated along with the rest, gravatana in hand. He showed
great forbearance in not having used the gravatana long before, for he
was all the while quite within reach of the araguatoes; but this
forbearance on his part was not of his own free-will. Don Pablo had, in
fact, hindered him, in order that he and the others should have an
opportunity of witnessing the singular manoeuvres of the monkeys.
Before the scene was quite over, however, the Indian begged Don Pablo to
let him shoot, reminding him how much they stood in need of a little
"monkey-meat." This had the effect Guapo desired; the consent was
given, and the gravatana was pointed diagonally upwards. Once more
Guapo's cheeks were distended--once more came the strong, quick puff--
and away went the arrow. The next moment it was seen sticking in the
neck of one of the monkeys.
Now, the one which Guapo had aimed at and hit was that which had grasped
the tree on the opposite side with its arms. Why did he choose this
more than any other? Was it because it was nearer, or more exposed to
view? Neither of these was the reason. It was, that had he shot any of
the others in the string--they being supported by their tails--it would
not have fallen; the tail, as we have already seen, still retaining its
prehensile power even to death. But that one which held on to the tree
by its fore-arms would in a second or two be compelled from weakness to
let go, and the whole chain would drop back on the near side of the
igaripe. This was just what Guapo desired, and he waited for the
result. It was necessary only to wait half-a-dozen seconds. The monkey
was evidently growing weak under the influence of the _curare_, and was
struggling to retain its hold. In a moment it must let go.
The araguato at the "tail-end" of the bridge, not knowing what had
happened, and thinking all was right for swinging himself across,
slipped his tail from the branch just at the very same instant that the
wounded one let go, and the whole chain fell "souse" into the water!
Then the screaming and howling from those on shore, the plunging and
splashing of the monkeys in the stream, mingled with the shouts of Leon,
Guapo, and the others, created a scene of noise and confusion that
lasted for several minutes. In the midst of it, Guapo threw himself
into the canoe, and with a single stroke of his paddle shot right down
among the drowning monkeys. One or two escaped to the bank, and made
off; several went to the bottom; but three, including the wounded one,
fell into the clutches of the hunter.
Of course roast-monkey was added to the supper; but none of the
travellers slept very well after it, as the araguatoes, lamenting their
lost companions, kept up a most dismal wailing throughout the whole of
the night.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
THE MANATI.
The araguatoes, with dried plantains and cassava, were the food of our
travellers for several days after. On the evening of the third day they
had a change. Guapo succeeded in capturing a very large turtle, which
served for relish at several meals. His mode of taking the turtle was
somewhat curious, and deserves to be described.
The balza had been brought to the bank, and they were just mooring it,
when something out on the water attracted the attention of Leon and
Leona. It was a small, darkish object, and would not have been observed
but for the ripple that it made on the smooth surface of the river, and
by this they could tell that it was in motion.
"A water-snake!" said Leon.
"Oh!" ejaculated the little Leona, "I hope not, brother Leon."
"On second thoughts," replied Leon, "I don't think it is a snake."
Of course the object was a good distance off, else Leon and Leona would
not have talked so coolly about it. But their words had reached the ear
of Dona Isidora, and drawn her attention to what they were talking
about.
"No; it is not a snake," said she. "I fancy it is a turtle."
Guapo up to this had been busy with Don Pablo in getting the balza made
fast. The word "turtle," however, caught his ear at once, and he looked
up, and then out on the river in the direction where Leon and Leona were
pointing. As soon as his eye rested upon the moving object he replied
to the remark of Dona Isidora.
"Yes, my mistress," said he, "it is a turtle, and a big one too. Please
all keep quiet--I think I can get him."
How Guapo was to get the turtle was a mystery to all. The latter was
about thirty paces distant, but it would be difficult, if not
impossible, to hit his small snout--the only part above water--with the
arrow of the blow-gun. Moreover, they thought that the arrow would not
penetrate the hard, bony-substance, so as to stick there and infuse its
poison into the wound.
These conjectures were true enough, but his gravatana was not the weapon
which Guapo was about to use. He had other weapons as well--a
fish-spear or harpoon, and a regular bow and arrows, which he had made
during his leisure hours in the valley.
The latter was the weapon with which the tortoise was to be killed.
Taking the bow, and adjusting an arrow to the string, Guapo stepped
forward to the water's edge. All watched him, uttering their hopes of
his success. It was still not clear with them how the turtle was to be
killed by an arrow shot from a bow any more than by one sent from a
blow-gun. Would it not glance from the shell even should he succeed in
hitting it under water? Surely it would!
As they stood whispering their conjectures to one another, they observed
Guapo, to their great astonishment, _pointing his arrow upward_, and
making as if he was going to discharge it in the air! This he, in fact,
_did_ do a moment after; and they would have been puzzled by his
apparently strange conduct, had they not observed, in the next instant,
that the arrow, after flying high up, came down again head-foremost and
stuck upright in the back of the turtle.
The turtle dived at once, and all of them expected to see the upright
arrow carried under water. What was their surprise as well as chagrin
to see that it had fallen out, and was floating on the surface! Of
course the wound had only been a slight one, and the turtle would
escape, and be none the worse for it.
But Guapo shared neither their surprise nor chagrin. Guapo felt sure
that the turtle was his, and said nothing; but, jumping into the canoe,
began to paddle himself out to where the creature had been last seen.
What could he be after? thought they.
As they watched him, they saw that he made for the floating arrow.
"Oh!" said they, "he is gone to recover it."
That seemed probable enough, but, to their astonishment, as he
approached the weapon it took a start, and ran away from him! Something
below dragged it along the water. That was clear, and they began to
comprehend the mystery. The _head_ of the arrow was still sticking in
the shell of the turtle. It was only the shaft that floated, and that
was attached to the head by a string! The latter had been but loosely
put on, so that the pressure of the water, as the turtle dived, should
separate it from the shaft, leaving the shaft with its cord to act as a
buoy, and discover the situation of the turtle.
Guapo, in his swift canoe, soon laid hold of the shaft, and after a
little careful manoeuvring, succeeded in landing his turtle high and dry
upon the bank. A splendid prize it proved. It was a "jurara"
tortoise--the "tataruga," or great turtle of the Portuguese, and its
shell was full three feet in diameter.
Guapo's mode of capturing the "jurara" is the same as that generally
practised by the Indians of the Amazon, although strong nets and the
hook are also used. The arrow is always discharged upwards, and the
range calculated with such skill, that it falls vertically on the shell
of the turtle, and penetrates deep enough to stick, and detach itself
from the shaft. This mode of shooting is necessary, else the jurara
could not be killed by an arrow, because it never shows more than the
tip of its snout above water, and any arrow hitting it in a direct
course would glance harmlessly from its shell. A good bowman among the
Indians will rarely miss shooting in this way,--long practice and native
skill enabling him to guess within an inch of where his weapon will
fall.
In the towns of the Lower Amazon, where turtles are brought to market, a
small square hole may be observed in the shells of these creatures.
That is the mark of the arrow-head.
Guapo lost no time in turning his turtle inside out, and converting part
of it into a savoury supper, while the remainder was fried into
sausage-meat, and put away for the following day.
But on that following day a much larger stock of sausage-meat was
procured from a very different animal, and that was a "cow."
"How?" you exclaim,--"a cow in the wild forests of the Amazon! Why, you
have said that no cattle--either cows or horses--can exist there without
man to protect them, else they would be devoured by pumas, jaguars, and
bats. Perhaps they had arrived at some settlement where cows were
kept?"
Not a bit of it; your conjecture, my young friend, is quite astray.
There was not a civilised settlement for many hundreds of miles from
where Guapo got his cow--nor a cow neither, of the sort you are thinking
of. But there are more kinds of cows than one; and, perhaps, you may
have heard of a creature called the "fish-cow?" Well, that is the sort
of cow I am speaking of. Some term it the "sea-cow," but this is an
improper name for it, since it also inhabits fresh-water rivers
throughout all tropical America. It is known as the _Manati_, and the
Portuguese call it "_peixe hoi_," which is only "fish-cow" done into
Portuguese.
It is a curious creature the fish-cow, and I shall offer you a short
description of it. It is usually about seven feet in length, and five
round the thickest part of the body, which latter is quite smooth, and
tapers off into a horizontal flat tail, semicircular in shape. There
are no hind-limbs upon the animal, but just behind the head are two
powerful fins of an oval shape. There is no neck to be perceived; and
the head, which is not very large, terminates in a large mouth and
fleshy lips, which are not unlike those of a cow: hence its name of
"cow-fish." There are stiff bristles on the upper lip, and a few thinly
scattered hairs over the rest of the body. Behind the oval fins are two
_mamma_, or breasts, from which, when pressed, flows a stream of
beautiful white milk. Both eyes and ears are very small in proportion
to the size of the animal, but, nevertheless, it has full use of these
organs, and is not easily approached by its enemy.
The colour of the skin is a dusky lead, with some flesh-coloured marks
on the belly, and the skin itself is an inch thick at its thickest part,
on the back. Beneath the skin is a layer of fat, of great thickness,
which makes excellent oil when boiled. As we have said, the manati has
no appearance of hind-limbs. Its fore-limbs, however, are highly
developed for a water animal. The bones in them correspond to those in
the human arm, having five fingers with the joints distinct, yet so
enclosed in an inflexible sheath that not a joint can be moved.
The cow-fish feeds on grass, coming in to the borders of the lakes and
rivers to procure it. It can swim very rapidly by means of its flat
tail and strong fins, and is not so easily captured as might be
supposed. All the art of the hunter is required to effect its
destruction. The harpoon is the weapon usually employed, though
sometimes they are caught in strong nets stretched across the mouths of
rivers or the narrow arms of lakes. The flesh of the manati is much
esteemed, and tastes somewhat between beef and pork, altogether
different from "fish." Fried in its own oil, and poured into pots or
jars, it can be preserved for many months.
As already stated, on the day after Guapo shot the turtle--in fact, the
next morning--just as they were going to shove off, some of the party,
in gazing from the edge of the balza, noticed a queer-looking animal in
the clear water below. It was no other than a "fish-cow;" and, as they
continued to examine it more attentively, they were astonished to
observe that, with its short paddle-like limbs, it hugged two miniature
models of itself close to its two breasts. These were the "calves" in
the act of suckling, for such is the mode in which the manati nourishes
her young.
All the others would have watched this spectacle for a while, interested
in the maternal and filial traits thus exhibited by a subaqueous
creature, but while they stood looking into the water, something glanced
before their eyes, and glided with a plunge to the bottom. It was the
harpoon of Guapo.
Blood rose to the surface immediately, and there was a considerable
plashing as the strong manati made its attempt to escape; but the head
of the harpoon was deeply buried in its flesh, and, with the attached
cord, Guapo soon hauled the animal ashore. It was as much as he and Don
Pablo could do to drag it on dry land; but the knife soon took it to
pieces; and then several hours were spent in making it fit for
preservation. Its fat and flesh yielded enough to fill every spare
vessel our travellers had got; and, when all were filled, the balza was
pushed off, and they continued their voyage without any fear of short
rations for some time to come.
CHAPTER FIFTY.
THE CLOSING CHAPTER.
After many days of difficult navigation the balza floated upon the broad
and mighty Amazon, whose yellowish-olive flood flowed yet fifteen
hundred miles farther to the Atlantic Ocean.
The current was in most places over four miles an hour, and the
navigation smooth and easy--so that our travellers rarely made less than
fifty miles a-day. There was considerable monotony in the landscape, on
account of the absence of mountains, as the Amazon, through most of its
course, runs through a level plain. The numerous bends and sudden
windings of the stream, however, continually opening out into new and
charming vistas, and the ever-changing variety of vegetation, formed
sources of delight to the travellers.
Almost every day they passed the mouth of some tributary river--many of
these appearing as large as the Amazon itself. Our travellers were
struck with a peculiarity in relation to these rivers--that is, their
variety of colour. Some were whitish, with a tinge of olive, like the
Amazon itself; others were blue and transparent; while a third kind had
waters as black as ink. Of the latter class is the great river of the
Rio Negro--which by means of a tributary (the Cassiquiare) joins the
Amazon with the Orinoco.
Indeed, the rivers of the Amazon valley have been classed into _white,
blue_, and _black_. Red rivers, such as are common in the northern
division of the American continent, do not exist in the valley of the
Amazon.
There appears to be no other explanation for this difference in the
colour of rivers, except by supposing that they take their hue from the
nature of the soil through which these channels run.
But the _white_ rivers, as the Amazon itself, do not appear to be of
this hue merely because they are "muddy." On the contrary, they derive
their colour, or most of it, from some impalpable substance held in a
state of irreducible solution. This is proved from the fact, that even
when these waters enter a reservoir, and the earthy matter is allowed to
settle, they still retain the same tinge of yellowish olive. There are
some white rivers, as the Rio Branco, whose waters are almost as white
as milk itself!
The _blue_ rivers of the Amazon valley are those with clear transparent
waters, and the courses of these lie through rocky countries where there
is little or no alluvium to render them turbid.
The _black_ streams are the most remarkable of all. These, when deep,
look like rivers of ink; and when the bottom can be seen, which is
usually a sandy one, the sand has the appearance of gold. Even when
lifted in a vessel, the water retains its inky tinge, and resembles that
which may be found in the pools of peat-bogs. It is a general
supposition in South America that the black-water rivers get their
colour from the extract of sarsaparilla roots growing on their banks.
It is possible the sarsaparilla roots may have something to do with it,
in common with both the roots and leaves of many other vegetables. No
other explanation has yet been found to account for the dark colour of
these rivers, except the decay of vegetable substances carried in their
current; and it is a fact that all the black-water streams run through
the most thickly wooded regions.