JUNCTION OF THE APURE AND THE ORINOCO.
MOUNTAINS OF ENCARAMADA.
URUANA.
BARAGUAN.
CARICHANA.
MOUTH OF THE META.
ISLAND OF PANUMANA.
On leaving the Rio Apure we found ourselves in a country presenting a
totally different aspect. An immense plain of water stretched before
us like a lake, as far as we could see. White-topped waves rose to the
height of several feet, from the conflict of the breeze and the
current. The air resounded no longer with the piercing cries of
herons, flamingos, and spoonbills, crossing in long files from one
shore to the other. Our eyes sought in vain those waterfowls, the
habits of which vary in each tribe. All nature appeared less animated.
Scarcely could we discover in the hollows of the waves a few large
crocodiles, cutting obliquely, by the help of their long tails, the
surface of the agitated waters. The horizon was bounded by a zone of
forests, which nowhere reached so far as the bed of the river. A vast
beach, constantly parched by the heat of the sun, desert and bare as
the shores of the sea, resembled at a distance, from the effect of the
mirage, pools of stagnant water. These sandy shores, far from fixing
the limits of the river, render them uncertain, by enlarging or
contracting them alternately, according to the variable action of the
solar rays.
In these scattered features of the landscape, in this character of
solitude and of greatness, we recognize the course of the Orinoco, one
of the most majestic rivers of the New World. The water, like the
land, displays everywhere a characteristic and peculiar aspect. The
bed of the Orinoco resembles not the bed of the Meta, the Guaviare,
the Rio Negro, or the Amazon. These differences do not depend
altogether on the breadth or the velocity of the current; they are
connected with a multitude of impressions which it is easier to
perceive upon the spot than to define with precision. Thus, the mere
form of the waves, the tint of the waters, the aspect of the sky and
the clouds, would lead an experienced navigator to guess whether he
were in the Atlantic, in the Mediterranean, or in the equinoctial part
of the Pacific.
The wind blew fresh from east-north-east. Its direction was favourable
for sailing up the Orinoco, towards the Mission of Encaramada; but our
canoes were so ill calculated to resist the shocks of the waves, that,
from the violence of the motion, those who suffered habitually at sea
were equally incommoded on the river. The short, broken waves are
caused by the conflict of the waters at the junction of the two
rivers. This conflict is very violent, but far from being so dangerous
as Father Gumilla describes. We passed the Punta Curiquima, which is
an isolated mass of quartzose granite, a small promontory composed of
rounded blocks. There, on the right bank of the Orinoco, Father
Rotella founded, in the time of the Jesuits, a Mission of the Palenka
and Viriviri or Guire Indians. But during inundations, the rock
Curiquima and the village at its foot were entirely surrounded by
water; and this serious inconvenience, together with the sufferings of
the missionaries and Indians from the innumerable quantity of
mosquitos and niguas,* led them to forsake this humid spot. (* The
chego (Pulex penetrans) which penetrates under the nails of the toe in
men and monkeys, and there deposits its eggs.) It is now entirely
deserted, while opposite to it, on the right bank of the river, the
little mountains of Coruato are the retreat of wandering Indians,
expelled either from the Missions, or from tribes that are not subject
to the government of the monks.
Struck with the extreme breadth of the Orinoco, between the mouth of
the Apure and the rock Curiquima, I ascertained it by means of a base
measured twice on the western beach. The bed of the Orinoco, at low
water, was 1906 toises broad; but this breadth increases to 5517
toises, when, in the rainy season, the rock Curiquima, and the farm of
Capuchino near the hill of Pocopocori, become islands. The swelling of
the Orinoco is augmented by the impulse of the waters of the Apure,
which, far from forming, like other rivers, an acute angle with the
upper part of that into which it flows, meets it at right angles.
We first proceeded south-west, as far as the shore inhabited by the
Guaricoto Indians on the left bank of the Orinoco, and then we
advanced straight toward the south. The river is so broad that the
mountains of Encaramada appear to rise from the water, as if seen
above the horizon of the sea. They form a continued chain from east to
west. These mountains are composed of enormous blocks of granite,
cleft and piled one upon another. Their division into blocks is the
effect of decomposition. What contributes above all to embellish the
scene at Encaramada is the luxuriance of vegetation that covers the
sides of the rocks, leaving bare only their rounded summits. They look
like ancient ruins rising in the midst of a forest. The mountain
immediately at the back of the Mission, the Tepupano* of the Tamanac
Indians is terminated by three enormous granitic cylinders, two of
which are inclined, while the third, though worn at its base, and more
than eighty feet high, has preserved a vertical position. (*
Tepu-pano, place of stones, in which we recognize tepu stone, rock, as
in tepu-iri, mountain. We here perceive that Lesgian Oigour-Tartar
root tep, stone (found in America among the Americans, in teptl; among
the Caribs, in tebou; among the Tamanacs, in tepuiri); a striking
analogy between the languages of Caucasus and Upper Asia and those of
the banks of the Orinoco.) This rock, which calls to mind the form of
the Schnarcher in the Hartz mountains, or that of the Organs of
Actopan in Mexico,* composed formerly a part of the rounded summit of
the mountain. (* In Captain Tuckey's Voyage on the river Congo, we
find represented a granitic rock, Taddi Enzazi, which bears a striking
resemblance to the mountain of Encaramada.) In every climate,
unstratified granite separates by decomposition into blocks of
prismatic, cylindric, or columnar figures.
Opposite the shore of the Guaricotos, we drew near another heap of
rocks, which is very low, and three or four toises long. It rises in
the midst of the plain, and has less resemblance to a tumulus than to
those masses of granitic stone, which in North Holland and Germany
bear the name of hunenbette, beds (or tombs) of heroes. The shore, at
this part of the Orinoco, is no longer of pure and quartzose sand; but
is composed of clay and spangles of mica, deposited in very thin
strata, and generally at an inclination of forty or fifty degrees. It
looks like decomposed mica-slate. This change in the geological
configuration of the shore extends far beyond the mouth of the Apure.
We had begun to observe it in this latter river as far off as
Algodonal and the Cano del Manati. The spangles of mica come, no
doubt, from the granite mountains of Curiquima and Encaramada; since
further north-east we find only quartzose sand, sandstone, compact
limestone, and gypsum. Alluvial earth carried successively from south
to north need not surprise us in the Orinoco; but to what shall we
attribute the same phenomenon in the bed of the Apure, seven leagues
west of its mouth? In the present state of things, notwithstanding the
swellings of the Orinoco, the waters of the Apure never retrograde so
far; and, to explain this phenomenon, we are forced to admit that the
micaceous strata were deposited at a time when the whole of the very
low country lying between Caycara, Algodonal, and the mountains of
Encaramada, formed the basin of an inland lake.
We stopped some time at the port of Encaramada, which is a sort of
embarcadero, a place where boats assemble. A rock of forty or fifty
feet high forms the shore. It is composed of blocks of granite, heaped
one upon another, as at the Schneeberg in Franconia, and in almost all
the granitic mountains of Europe. Some of these detached masses have a
spheroidal form; they are not balls with concentric layers, but merely
rounded blocks, nuclei separated from their envelopes by the effect of
decomposition. This granite is of a greyish lead-colour, often black,
as if covered with oxide of manganese; but this colour does not
penetrate one fifth of a line into the rock, which is of a reddish
white colour within, coarse-grained, and destitute of hornblende.
The Indian names of the Mission of San Luis del Encaramada, are Guaja
and Caramana.* (* All the Missions of South America have names
composed of two words, the first of which is necessarily the name of a
saint, the patron of the church, and the second an Indian name, that
of the nation, or the spot where the establishment is placed. Thus we
say, San Jose de Maypures, Santa Cruz de Cachipo, San Juan Nepomuceno
de los Atures, etc. These compound names appear only in official
documents; the Inhabitants adopt but one of the two names, and
generally, provided it be sonorous, the Indian. As the names of saints
are several times repeated in neighbouring places, great confusion in
geography arises from these repetitions. The names of San Juan, San
Diego, and San Pedro, are scattered in our maps as if by chance. It is
pretended that the Mission of Guaja affords a very rare example of the
composition of two Spanish words. The word Encaramada means things
raised one upon another, from encaramar, to raise up. It is derived
from the figure of Tepupano and the neighbouring rocks: perhaps it is
only an Indian word caramana, in which, as in manati, a Spanish
signification was believed to be discovered.) This small village was
founded in 1749 by Father Gili, the Jesuit, author of the Storia dell'
Orinoco, published at Rome. This missionary, learned in the Indian
tongues, lived in these solitudes during eighteen years, till the
expulsion of the Jesuits. To form a precise idea of the savage state
of these countries it must be recollected that Father Gili speaks of
Carichana,* which is forty leagues from Encaramada, as of a spot far
distant; and that he never advanced so far as the first cataract in
the river of which he ventured to undertake the description. (* Saggio
di Storia Americana volume 1 page 122.)
In the port of Encaramada we met with some Caribs of Panapana. A
cacique was going up the Orinoco in his canoe, to join in the famous
fishing of turtles' eggs. His canoe was rounded toward the bottom like
a bongo, and followed by a smaller boat called a curiara. He was
seated beneath a sort of tent, constructed, like the sail, of
palm-leaves. His cold and silent gravity, the respect with which he
was treated by his attendants, everything denoted him to be a person
of importance. He was equipped, however, in the same manner as his
Indians. They were all equally naked, armed with bows and arrows, and
painted with onoto, which is the colouring fecula of the Bixa
orellana. The chief, the domestics, the furniture, the boat, and the
sail, were all painted red. These Caribs are men of an almost athletic
stature; they appeared to us much taller than any Indians we had
hitherto seen. Their smooth and thick hair, cut short on the forehead
like that of choristers, their eyebrows painted black, their look at
once gloomy and animated, gave a singular expression to their
countenances. Having till then seen only the skulls of some Caribs of
the West India Islands preserved in the collections of Europe, we were
surprised to find that these Indians, who were of pure race, had
foreheads much more rounded than they are described. The women, who
were very tall, and disgusting from their want of cleanliness, carried
their infants on their backs. The thighs and legs of the infants were
bound at certain distances by broad strips of cotton cloth, and the
flesh, strongly compressed beneath the ligatures, was swelled in the
interstices. It is generally to be observed, that the Caribs are as
attentive to their exterior and their ornaments, as it is possible for
men to be, who are naked and painted red. They attach great importance
to certain configurations of the body; and a mother would be accused
of culpable indifference toward her children, if she did not employ
artificial means to shape the calf of the leg after the fashion of the
country. As none of our Indians of Apure understood the Caribbee
language, we could obtain no information from the cacique of Panama
respecting the encampments that are made at this season in several
islands of the Orinoco for collecting turtles' eggs.
Near Encaramada a very long island divides the river into two
branches. We passed the night in a rocky creek, opposite the mouth of
the Rio Cabullare, which is formed by the Payara and the Atamaica, and
is sometimes considered as one of the branches of the Apure, because
it communicates with that river by the Rio Arichuna. The evening was
beautiful. The moon illumined the tops of the granite rocks. The heat
was so uniformly distributed, that, notwithstanding the humidity of
the air, no twinkling of the stars was observable, even at four or
five degrees above the horizon. The light of the planets was
singularly dimmed; and if, on account of the smallness of the apparent
diameter of Jupiter, I had not suspected some error in the
observation, I should say, that here, for the first time, we thought
we distinguished the disk of Jupiter with the naked eye. Towards
midnight, the north-east wind became extremely violent. It brought no
clouds, but the vault of the sky was covered more and more with
vapours. Strong gusts were felt, and made us fear for the safety of
our canoe. During this whole day we had seen very few crocodiles, but
all of an extraordinary size, from twenty to twenty-four feet. The
Indians assured us that the young crocodiles prefer the marshes, and
the rivers that are less broad, and less deep. They crowd together
particularly in the Canos, and we may say of them, what Abdallatif
says of the crocodiles of the Nile,* "that they swarm like worms in
the shallow waters of the river, and in the shelter of uninhabited
islands." (* Description de l'Egypte translated by De Sacy.)
On the 6th of April, whilst continuing to ascend the Orinoco, first
southward and then to south-west, we perceived the southern side of
the Serrania, or chain of the mountains of Encaramada. The part
nearest the river is only one hundred and forty or one hundred and
sixty toises high; but from its abrupt declivities, its situation in
the midst of a savannah, and its rocky summits, cut into shapeless
prisms, the Serrania appears singularly elevated. Its greatest breadth
is only three leagues. According to information given me by the
Indians of the Pareka nation, it is considerably wider toward the
east. The summits of Encaramada form the northernmost link of a group
of mountains which border the right bank of the Orinoco, between the
latitudes of 5 degrees and 7 degrees 30 minutes from the mouth of the
Rio Zama to that of the Cabullare. The different links into which this
group is divided are separated by little grassy plains. They do not
preserve a direction perfectly parallel to each other; for the most
northern stretch from west to east, and the most southern from
north-west to south-east. This change of direction sufficiently
explains the increase of breadth observed in the Cordillera of Parime
towards the east, between the sources of the Orinoco and of the Rio
Paruspa. On penetrating beyond the great cataracts of Atures and of
Maypures, we shall see seven principal links, those of Encaramada or
Sacuina, of Chaviripa, of Baraguan, of Carichana, of Uniama, of
Calitamini, and of Sipapo, successively appear. This sketch may serve
to give a general idea of the geological configuration of the ground.
We recognize everywhere on the globe a tendency toward regular forms,
in those mountains that appear the most irregularly grouped. Every
link appears, in a transverse section, like a distinct summit, to
those who navigate the Orinoco; but this division is merely in
appearance. The regularity in the direction and separation of the
links seems to diminish in proportion as we advance towards the east.
The mountains of Encaramada join those of Mato, which give birth to
the Rio Asiveru or Cuchivero; those of Chaviripe are prolonged by the
granite chain of the Corosal, of Amoco, and of Murcielago, towards the
sources of the Erevato and the Ventuari.
It was across these mountains, which are inhabited by Indians of
gentle character, employed in agriculture,* (* The Mapoyes, Parecas,
Javaranas, and Curacicanas, who possess fine plantations (conucos) in
the savannahs by which these forests are bounded.) that, at the time
of the expedition for settling boundaries, General Iturriaga took some
horned cattle for the supply of the new town of San Fernando de
Atabapo. The inhabitants of Encaramada then showed the Spanish
soldiers the way by the Rio Manapiari,* which falls into the Ventuari.
(* Between Encaramada and the Rio Manapiare, Don Miguel Sanchez, chief
of this little expedition, crossed the Rio Guainaima, which flows into
the Cuchivero. Sanchez died, from the fatigue of this journey, on the
borders of the Ventuari.) By descending these two rivers, the Orinoco
and the Atabapo may be reached without passing the great cataracts,
which present almost insurmountable obstacles to the conveyance of
cattle. The spirit of enterprise which had so eminently distinguished
the Castilians at the period of the discovery of America, was again
roused for a time in the middle of the eighteenth century, when
Ferdinand VI was desirous of knowing the true limits of his vast
possessions; and in the forests of Guiana, that land of fiction and
fabulous tradition, the wily Indians revived the chimerical idea of
the wealth of El Dorado, which had so much occupied the imagination of
the first conquerors.
Amidst the mountains of Encaramada, which, like most coarse-grained
granite rocks, are destitute of metallic veins, we cannot help
inquiring whence came those grains of gold which Juan Martinez* (* The
companion of Diego Ordaz.) and Raleigh profess to have seen in such
abundance in the hands of the Indians of the Orinoco. From what I
observed in that part of America, I am led to think that gold, like
tin,* is sometimes disseminated in an almost imperceptible manner in
the very mass of granite rocks, without our being able to perceive
that there is a ramification and an intertwining of small veins. (*
Thus tin is found in granite of recent formation, at Geyer; in
hyalomicte or graisen, at Zinnwald; and in syenitic porphyry, at
Altenberg, in Saxony, as well as near Naila, in the Fichtelgebirge. I
have also seen, in the Upper Palatinate, micaceous iron, and black
earthy cobalt, far from any kind of vein, disseminated in a granite
destitute of mica, as magnetic iron-sand is in volcanic rocks.) Not
long ago the Indians of Encaramada found in the Quebrada del Tigre* (*
The Tiger-ravine.) a piece of native gold two lines in diameter. It
was rounded, and appeared to have been washed along by the waters.
This discovery excited the attention of the missionaries much more
than of the natives; it was followed by no other of the same kind.
I cannot quit this first link of the mountains of Encaramada without
recalling to mind a fact that was not unknown to Father Gili, and
which was often mentioned to me during our abode in the Missions of
the Orinoco. The natives of those countries have retained the belief
that, "at the time of the great waters, when their fathers were forced
to have recourse to boats, to escape the general inundation, the waves
of the sea beat against the rocks of Encaramada." This belief is not
confined to one nation singly, the Tamanacs; it makes part of a system
of historical tradition, of which we find scattered notions among the
Maypures of the great cataracts; among the Indians of the Rio Erevato,
which runs into the Caura; and among almost all the tribes of the
Upper Orinoco. When the Tamanacs are asked how the human race survived
this great deluge, the age of water, of the Mexicans, they say, a man
and a woman saved themselves on a high mountain, called Tamanacu,
situated on the banks of the Asiveru; and casting behind them, over
their heads, the fruits of the mauritia palm-tree, they saw the seeds
contained in those fruits produce men and women, who repeopled the
earth. Thus we find in all its simplicity, among nations now in a
savage state, a tradition which the Greeks embellished with all the
charms of imagination! A few leagues from Encaramada, a rock, called
Tepu-mereme, or the painted rock, rises in the midst of the savannah.
Upon it are traced representations of animals, and symbolic figures
resembling those we saw in going down the Orinoco, at a small distance
below Encaramada, near the town Caycara. Similar rocks in Africa are
called by travellers fetish stones. I shall not make use of this term,
because fetishism does not prevail among the natives of the Orinoco;
and the figures of stars, of the sun, of tigers, and of crocodiles,
which we found traced upon the rocks in spots now uninhabited,
appeared to me in no way to denote the objects of worship of those
nations. Between the banks of the Cassiquiare and the Orinoco, between
Encaramada, the Capuchino, and Caycara, these hieroglyphic figures are
often seen at great heights, on rocky cliffs which could be accessible
only by constructing very lofty scaffolds. When the natives are asked
how those figures could have been sculptured, they answer with a
smile, as if relating a fact of which only a white man could be
ignorant, that "at the period of the great waters, their fathers went
to that height in boats."
These ancient traditions of the human race, which we find dispersed
over the whole surface of the globe, like the relics of a vast
shipwreck, are highly interesting in the philosophical study of our
own species. Like certain families of the vegetable kingdom, which,
notwithstanding the diversity of climates and the influence of
heights, retain the impression of a common type, the traditions of
nations respecting the origin of the world, display everywhere the
same physiognomy, and preserve features of resemblance that fill us
with astonishment. How many different tongues, belonging to branches
that appear totally distinct, transmit to us the same facts! The
traditions concerning races that have been destroyed, and the renewal
of nature, scarcely vary in reality, though every nation gives them a
local colouring. In the great continents, as in the smallest islands
of the Pacific Ocean, it is always on the loftiest and nearest
mountain that the remains of the human race have been saved; and this
event appears the more recent, in proportion as the nations are
uncultivated, and as the knowledge they have of their own existence
has no very remote date. After having studied with attention the
Mexican monuments anterior to the discovery of the New World; after
having penetrated into the forests of the Orinoco, and observed the
diminutive size of the European establishments, their solitude, and
the state of the tribes that have remained independent; we cannot
allow ourselves to attribute the analogies just cited to the influence
exercised by the missionaries, and by Christianity, on the national
traditions. Nor is it more probable, that the discovery of sea-shells
on the summit of mountains gave birth, among the nations of the
Orinoco, to the tradition of some great inundation which extinguished
for a time the germs of organic life on our globe. The country that
extends from the right bank of the Orinoco to the Cassiquiare and the
Rio Negro, is a country of primitive rocks. I saw there one small
formation of sandstone or conglomerate; but no secondary limestone,
and no trace of petrifactions.
A fresh north-east breeze carried us full-sail towards the Boca de la
Tortuga. We landed, at eleven in the morning, on an island which the
Indians of the Missions of Uruana considered as their property, and
which lies in the middle of the river. This island is celebrated for
the turtle fishery, or, as they say here, the cosecha, the harvest [of
eggs,] that takes place annually. We here found an assemblage of
Indians, encamped under huts made of palm-leaves. This encampment
contained more than three hundred persons. Accustomed, since we had
left San Fernando de Apure, to see only desert shores, we were
singularly struck by the bustle that prevailed here. We found, besides
the Guamos and the Ottomacs of Uruana, who are both considered as
savage races, Caribs and other Indians of the Lower Orinoco. Every
tribe was separately encamped, and was distinguished by the pigments
with which their skins were painted. Some white men were seen amidst
this tumultuous assemblage, chiefly pulperos, or little traders of
Angostura, who had come up the river to purchase turtle oil from the
natives. The missionary of Uruana, a native of Alcala, came to meet
us, and he was extremely astonished at seeing us. After having admired
our instruments, he gave us an exaggerated picture of the sufferings
to which we should be necessarily exposed in ascending the Orinoco
beyond the cataracts. The object of our journey appeared to him very
mysterious. "How is it possible to believe," said he, "that you have
left your country, to come and be devoured by mosquitos on this river,
and to measure lands that are not your own?" We were happily furnished
with recommendations from the Superior of the Franciscan Missions, and
the brother-in-law of the governor of Varinas, who accompanied us,
soon dissipated the doubts to which our dress, our accent, and our
arrival in this sandy island, had given rise among the Whites. The
missionary invited us to partake a frugal repast of fish and
plantains. He told us that he had come to encamp with the Indians
during the time of the harvest of eggs, "to celebrate mass every
morning in the open air, to procure the oil necessary for the
church-lamps, and especially to govern this mixed republic (republica
de Indios y Castellanos) in which every one wished to profit singly by
what God had granted to all."
We made the tour of the island, accompanied by the missionary and by a
pulpero, who boasted of having, for ten successive years, visited the
camp of the Indians, and attended the turtle-fishery. We were on a
plain of sand perfectly smooth; and were told that, as far as we could
see along the beach, turtles' eggs were concealed under a layer of
earth. The missionary carried a long pole in his hand. He showed us,
that by means of this pole, the extent of the stratum of eggs could be
determined as accurately as the miner determines the limits of a bed
of marl, of bog iron-ore, or of coal. On thrusting the rod
perpendicularly into the ground, the sudden want of resistance shows
that the cavity or layer of loose earth containing the eggs, has been
reached. We saw that the stratum is generally spread with so much
uniformity, that the pole finds it everywhere in a radius of ten
toises around any given spot. Here they talk continually of square
perches of eggs; it is like a mining-country, divided into lots, and
worked with the greatest regularity. The stratum of eggs, however, is
far from covering the whole island: they are not found wherever the
ground rises abruptly, because the turtle cannot mount heights. I
related to my guides the emphatic description of Father Gumilla, who
asserts, that the shores of the Orinoco contain fewer grains of sand
than the river contains turtles; and that these animals would prevent
vessels from advancing, if men and tigers did not annually destroy so
great a number.* (* "It would be as difficult to count the grains of
sand on the shores of the Orinoco, as to count the immense number of
tortoises which inhabit its margins and waters. Were it not for the
vast consumption of tortoises and their eggs, the river Orinoco,
despite its great magnitude, would be unnavigable, for vessels would
be impeded by the enormous multitude of the tortoises." Gumilla,
Orinoco Illustrata volume 1 pages 331 to 336.) "Son cuentos de
frailes," "they are monkish legends," said the pulpero of Angostura,
in a low voice; for the only travellers in this country being the
missionaries, they here call monks' stories, what we call travellers'
tales, in Europe.
The Indians assured us that, in going up the Orinoco from its mouth to
its junction with the Apure, not one island or one beach is to be
found, where eggs can be collected in abundance. The great turtle
(arrau* (* This word belongs to the Maypure language, and must not be
confounded with arua, which means a crocodile, among the Tamanacs,
neighbours of the Maypures. The Ottomacs call the turtle of Uruana,
achea; the Tamanacs, peje.)) dreads places inhabited by men, or much
frequented by boats. It is a timid and mistrustful animal, raising
only its head above the water, and hiding itself at the least noise.
The shores where almost all the turtles of the Orinoco appear to
assemble annually, are situated between the junction of the Orinoco
with the Apure, and the great cataracts; that is to say, between
Cabruta and the Mission of Atures. There are found the three famous
fisheries; those of Encaramada, or Boca del Cabullare; of Cucuruparu,
or Boca de la Tortuga; and of Pararuma, a little below Carichana. It
seems that the arrau does not pass beyond the cataracts; and we were
assured, that only the turtles called terekay, (in Spanish terecayas,)
are found above Atures and Maypures.
The arrau, called by the Spaniards of the Missions simply tortuga, is
an animal whose existence is of great importance to the nations on the
Lower Orinoco. It is a large freshwater tortoise, with palmate and
membraneous feet; the head very flat, with two fleshy and
acutely-pointed appendages under the chin; five claws to the fore
feet, and four to the hind feet, which are furrowed underneath. The
upper shell has five central, eight lateral, and twenty-four marginal
plates. The colour is darkish grey above, and orange beneath. The feet
are yellow, and very long. There is a deep furrow between the eyes.
The claws are very strong and crooked. The anus is placed at the
distance of one-fifth from the extremity of the tail. The full-grown
animal weighs from forty to fifty pounds. Its eggs are much larger
than those of pigeons, and less elongated than the eggs of the
terekay. They are covered with a calcareous crust, and, it is said,
they have sufficient firmness for the children of the Ottomac Indians,
who are great players at ball, to throw them into the air from one to
another. If the arrau inhabited the bed of the river above the
cataracts, the Indians of the Upper Orinoco would not travel so far to
procure the flesh and the eggs of this tortoise. Yet, formerly, whole
tribes from the Atabapo and the Cassiquiare have been known to pass
the cataracts, in order to take part in the fishery at Uruana.
The terekay is less than the arrau. It is in general only fourteen
inches in diameter. The number of plates in the upper shell is the
same, but they are somewhat differently arranged. I counted three in
the centre of the disk, and five hexagonal on each side. The margins
contain twenty-four, all quadrangular, and much curved. The upper
shell is of a black colour inclining to green; the feet and claws are
like those of the arrau. The whole animal is of an olive-green, but it
has two spots of red mixed with yellow on the top of the head. The
throat is also yellow, and furnished with a prickly appendage. The
terekays do not assemble in numerous societies like the arraus, to lay
their eggs in common, and deposit them upon the same shore. The eggs
of the terekay have an agreeable taste, and are much sought after by
the inhabitants of Spanish Guiana. They are found in the Upper
Orinoco, as well as below the cataracts, and even in the Apure, the
Uritucu, the Guarico, and the small rivers that traverse the Llanos of
Caracas. The form of the feet and head, the appendages of the chin and
throat, and the position of the anus, seem to indicate that the arrau,
and probably the terekay also, belong to a new subdivision of the
tortoises, that may be separated from the emydes. The period at which
the large arrau tortoise lays its eggs coincides with the period of
the lowest waters. The Orinoco beginning to increase from the vernal
equinox, the lowest flats are found uncovered from the end of January
till the 20th or 25th of March. The arrau tortoises collect in troops
in the month of January, then issue from the water, and warm
themselves in the sun, reposing on the sands. The Indians believe that
great heat is indispensable to the health of the animal, and that its
exposure to the sun favours the laying of the eggs. The arraus are
found on the beach a great part of the day during the whole month of
February. At the beginning of March the straggling troops assemble,
and swim towards the small number of islands on which they habitually
deposit their eggs. It is probable that the same tortoise returns
every year to the same locality. At this period, a few days before
they lay their eggs, thousands of these animals may be seen ranged in
long files, on the borders of the islands of Cucuruparu, Uruana, and
Pararuma, stretching out their necks and holding their heads above
water, to see whether they have anything to dread. The Indians, who
are anxious that the bands when assembled should not separate, that
the tortoises should not disperse, and that the laying of the eggs
should be performed tranquilly, place sentinels at certain distances
along the shore. The people who pass in boats are told to keep in the
middle of the river, and not frighten the tortoises by cries. The
laying of the eggs takes place always during the night, and it begins
soon after sunset. With its hind feet, which are very long, and
furnished with crooked claws, the animal digs a hole of three feet in
diameter and two in depth. These tortoises feel so pressing a desire
to lay their eggs, that some of them descend into holes that have been
dug by others, but which are not yet covered with earth. There they
deposit a new layer of eggs on that which has been recently laid. In
this tumultuous movement an immense number of eggs are broken. The
missionary showed us, by removing the sand in several places, that
this loss probably amounts to a fifth of the whole quantity. The yolk
of the broken eggs contributes, in drying, to cement the sand; and we
found very large concretions of grains of quartz and broken shells.
The number of animals working on the beach during the night is so
considerable, that day surprises many of them before the laying of
their eggs is terminated. They are then urged on by the double
necessity of depositing their eggs, and closing the holes they have
dug, that they may not be perceived by the jaguars. The tortoises that
thus remain too late are insensible to their own danger. They work in
the presence of the Indians, who visit the beach at a very early hour,
and who call them mad tortoises. Notwithstanding the rapidity of their
movements, they are then easily caught with the hand.
The three encampments formed by the Indians, in the places indicated
above, begin about the end of March or commencement of April. The
gathering of the eggs is conducted in a uniform manner, and with that
regularity which characterises all monastic institutions. Before the
arrival of the missionaries on the banks of the river, the Indians
profited much less from a production which nature has supplied in such
abundance. Every tribe searched the beach in its own way; and an
immense number of eggs were uselessly broken, because they were not
dug up with precaution, and more eggs were uncovered than could be
carried away. It was like a mine worked by unskilful hands. The
Jesuits have the merit of having reduced this operation to regularity;
and though the Franciscan monks, who succeeded the Jesuits in the
Missions of the Orinoco, boast of having followed the example of their
predecessors, they unhappily do not effect all that prudence requires.
The Jesuits did not suffer the whole beach to be searched; they left a
part untouched, from the fear of seeing the breed of tortoises, if not
destroyed, at least considerably diminished. The whole beach is now
dug up without reserve; and accordingly it seems to be perceived that
the gathering is less productive from year to year.
When the camp is formed, the missionary of Uruana names his
lieutenant, or commissary, who divides the ground where the eggs are
found into different portions, according to the number of the Indian
tribes who take part in the gathering. They are all Indians of
Missions, as naked and rude as the Indians of the woods; though they
are called reducidos and neofitos, because they go to church at the
sound of the bell, and have learned to kneel down during the
consecration of the host.
The lieutenant (commissionado del Padre) begins his operations by
sounding. He examines by means of a long wooden pole or a cane of
bamboo, how far the stratum of eggs extends. This stratum, according
to our measurements, extended to the distance of one hundred and
twenty feet from the shore. Its average depth is three feet. The
commissionado places marks to indicate the point where each tribe
should stop in its labours. We were surprised to hear this harvest of
eggs estimated like the produce of a well-cultivated field. An area
accurately measured of one hundred and twenty feet long, and thirty
feet wide, has been known to yield one hundred jars of oil, valued at
about forty pounds sterling. The Indians remove the earth with their
hands; they place the eggs they have collected in small baskets, carry
them to their encampment, and throw them into long troughs of wood
filled with water. In these troughs the eggs, broken and stirred with
shovels, remain exposed to the sun till the oily part, which swims on
the surface, has time to inspissate. As fast as this collects on the
surface of the water, it is taken off and boiled over a quick fire.
This animal oil, called tortoise butter (manteca de tortugas* (* The
Tamanac Indians give it the name of carapa; the Maypures call it
timi.)) keeps the better, it is said, in proportion as it has
undergone a strong ebullition. When well prepared, it is limpid,
inodorous, and scarcely yellow. The missionaries compare it to the
best olive oil, and it is used not merely for burning in lamps, but
for cooking. It is not easy, however, to procure oil of turtles' eggs
quite pure. It has generally a putrid smell, owing to the mixture of
eggs in which the young are already formed.
I acquired some general statistical notions on the spot, by consulting
the missionary of Uruana, his lieutenant, and the traders of
Angostura. The shore of Uruana furnishes one thousand botijas, or jars
of oil, annually. The price of each jar at Angostura varies from two
piastres to two and a half. We may admit that the total produce of the
three shores, where the cosecha, or gathering of eggs, is annually
made, is five thousand botijas. Now as two hundred eggs yield oil
enough to fill a bottle (limeta), it requires five thousand eggs for a
jar or botija of oil. Estimating at one hundred, or one hundred and
sixteen, the number of eggs that one tortoise produces, and reckoning
that one third of these is broken at the time of laying, particularly
by the mad tortoises, we may presume that, to obtain annually five
thousand jars of oil, three hundred and thirty thousand arrau
tortoises, the weight of which amounts to one hundred and sixty-five
thousand quintals, must lay thirty-three millions of eggs on the three
shores where this harvest is gathered. The results of these
calculations are much below the truth. Many tortoises lay only sixty
or seventy eggs; and a great number of these animals are devoured by
jaguars at the moment they emerge from the water. The Indians bring
away a great number of eggs to eat them dried in the sun; and they
break a considerable number through carelessness during the gathering.
The number of eggs that are hatched before the people can dig them up
is so prodigious, that near the encampment of Uruana I saw the whole
shore of the Orinoco swarming with little tortoises an inch in
diameter, escaping with difficulty from the pursuit of the Indian
children. If to these considerations be added, that all the arraus do
not assemble on the three shores of the encampments; and that there
are many which lay their eggs in solitude, and some weeks later,*
between the mouth of the Orinoco and the confluence of the Apure; we
must admit that the number of turtles which annually deposit their
eggs on the banks of the Lower Orinoco, is near a million. (* The
arraus, which lay their eggs before the beginning of March, (for in
the same species the more or less frequent basking in the sun, the
food, and the peculiar organization of each individual, occasion
differences,) come out of the water with the terekays, which lay in
January and February. Father Gumilla believes them to be arraus that
were not able to lay their eggs the preceding year. It is difficult to
find the eggs of the terekays, because these animals, far from
collecting in thousands on the same beach, deposit their eggs as they
are scattered about.) This number is very great for so large an
animal. In general large animals multiply less considerably than the
smaller ones.
The labour of collecting the eggs, and preparing the oil, occupies
three weeks. It is at this period only that the missionaries have any
communication with the coast and the civilized neighbouring countries.
The Franciscan monks who live south of the cataracts, come to the
harvest of eggs less to procure oil, than to see, as they say, white
faces; and to learn whether the king inhabits the Escurial or San
Ildefonso, whether convents are still suppressed in France, and above
all, whether the Turks continue to keep quiet. On these subjects, (the
only ones interesting to a monk of the Orinoco), the small traders of
Angostura, who visit the encampments, can give, unfortunately, no very
exact information. But in these distant countries no doubt is ever
entertained of the news brought by a white man from the capital. The
profit of the traders in oil amounts to seventy or eighty per cent;
for the Indians sell it them at the price of a piastre a jar or
botija, and the expense of carriage is not more than two-fifths of a
piastre per jar. The Indians bring away also a considerable quantity
of eggs dried in the sun, or slightly boiled. Our rowers had baskets
or little bags of cotton-cloth filled with these eggs. Their taste is
not disagreeable, when well preserved. We were shown large shells of
turtles, which had been destroyed by the jaguars. These animals follow
the arraus towards those places on the beach where the eggs are laid.
They surprise the arraus on the sand; and, in order to devour them at
their ease, turn them in such a manner that the under shell is
uppermost. In this situation the turtles cannot rise; and as the
jaguar turns many more than he can eat in one night, the Indians often
avail themselves of his cunning and avidity.
When we reflect on the difficulty experienced by the naturalist in
getting out the body of the turtle without separating the upper and
under shells, we cannot sufficiently wonder at the suppleness of the
tiger's paw, which is able to remove the double armour of the arrau,
as if the adhering parts of the muscles had been cut by a surgical
instrument. The jaguar pursues the turtle into the water when it is
not very deep. It even digs up the eggs; and together with the
crocodile, the heron, and the galinazo vulture, is the most cruel
enemy of the little turtles recently hatched. The island of Pararuma
had been so much infested with crocodiles the preceding year, during
the egg-harvest, that the Indians in one night caught eighteen, of
twelve or fifteen feet long, by means of curved pieces of iron, baited
with the flesh of the manatee. Besides the beasts of the forests we
have just named, the wild Indians also very much diminish the quantity
of the oil. Warned by the first slight rains, which they call
turtle-rains (peje canepori* (* In the Tamanac language, from peje, a
tortoise, and canepo, rain.)), they hasten to the banks of the
Orinoco, and kill the turtles with poisoned arrows, whilst, with
upraised heads and paws extended, the animals are warming themselves
in the sun.
Though the little turtles (tortuguillos) may have burst the shells of
their eggs during the day, they are never seen to come out of the
ground but at night. The Indians assert that the young animal fears
the heat of the sun. They tried also to show us, that when the
tortuguillo is carried in a bag to a distance from the shore, and
placed in such a manner that its tail is turned to the river, it takes
without hesitation the shortest way to the water. I confess, that this
experiment, of which Father Gumilla speaks, does not always succeed
equally well: yet in general it does appear that at great distances
from the shore, and even in an island, these little animals feel with
extreme delicacy in what direction the most humid air prevails.
Reflecting on the almost uninterrupted layer of eggs that extends
along the beach, and on the thousands of little turtles that seek the
water as soon as they are hatched, it is difficult to admit that the
many turtles which have made their nests in the same spot, can
distinguish their own young, and lead them, like the crocodiles, to
the lakes in the vicinity of the Orinoco. It is certain, however, that
the animal passes the first years of its life in pools where the water
is shallow, and does not return to the bed of the great river till it
is full-grown. How then do the tortuguillos find these pools? Are they
led thither by female turtles, which adopt the young as by chance? The
crocodiles, less numerous, deposit their eggs in separate holes; and,
in this family of saurians, the female returns about the time when the
incubation is terminated, calls her young, which answer to her voice,
and often assists them to get out of the ground. The arrau tortoise,
no doubt, like the crocodile, knows the spot where she has made her
nest; but, not daring to return to the beach on which the Indians have
formed their encampment, how can she distinguish her own young from
those which do not belong to her? On the other hand, the Ottomac
Indians declare that, at the period of inundation, they have met with
female turtles followed by a great number of young ones. These were
perhaps arraus whose eggs had been deposited on a desert beach to
which they could return. Males are extremely rare among these animals.
Scarcely is one male found among several hundred females. The cause of
this disparity cannot be the same as with the crocodiles, which fight
in the coupling season.
Our pilot had anchored at the Playa de huevos, to purchase some
provisions, our store having begun to run short. We found there fresh
meat, Angostura rice, and even biscuit made of wheat-flour. Our
Indians filled the boat with little live turtles, and eggs dried in
the sun, for their own use. Having taken leave of the missionary of
Uruana, who had treated us with great kindness, we set sail about four
in the afternoon. The wind was fresh, and blew in squalls. Since we
had entered the mountainous part of the country, we had discovered
that our canoe carried sail very badly; but the master was desirous of
showing the Indians who were assembled on the beach, that, by going
close to the wind, he could reach, at one single tack, the middle of
the river. At the very moment when he was boasting of his dexterity,
and the boldness of his manoeuvre, the force of the wind upon the sail
became so great that we were on the point of going down. One side of
the boat was under water, which rushed in with such violence that it
was soon up to our knees. It washed over a little table at which I was
writing at the stern of the boat. I had some difficulty to save my
journal, and in an instant we saw our books, papers, and dried plants,
all afloat. M. Bonpland was lying asleep in the middle of the canoe.
Awakened by the entrance of the water and the cries of the Indians, he
understood the danger of our situation, whilst he maintained that
coolness which he always displayed in the most difficult
circumstances. The lee-side righting itself from time to time during
the squall, he did not consider the boat as lost. He thought that,
were we even forced to abandon it, we might save ourselves by
swimming, since there was no crocodile in sight. Amidst this
uncertainty the cordage of the sail suddenly gave way. The same gust
of wind, that had thrown us on our beam, served also to right us. We
laboured to bale the water out of the boat with calabashes, the sail
was again set, and in less than half an hour we were in a state to
proceed. The wind now abated a little. Squalls alternating with dead
calms are common in that part of the Orinoco which is bordered by
mountains. They are very dangerous for boats deeply laden, and without
decks. We had escaped as if by miracle. To the reproaches that were
heaped on our pilot for having kept too near the wind, he replied with
the phlegmatic coolness peculiar to the Indians, observing "that the
whites would find sun enough on those banks to dry their papers." We
lost only one book--the first volume of the Genera Plantarum of
Schreber--which had fallen overboard. At nightfall we landed on a
barren island in the middle of the river, near the Mission of Uruana.
We supped in a clear moonlight, seating ourselves on some large
turtle-shells that were found scattered about the beach. What
satisfaction we felt on finding ourselves thus comfortably landed! We
figured to ourselves the situation of a man who had been saved alone
from shipwreck, wandering on these desert shores, meeting at every
step with other rivers which fall into the Orinoco, and which it is
dangerous to pass by swimming, on account of the multitude of
crocodiles and caribe fishes. We pictured to ourselves such a man,
alive to the most tender affections of the soul, ignorant of the fate
of his companions, and thinking more of them than of himself. If we
love to indulge such melancholy meditations, it is because, when just
escaped from danger, we seem to feel as it were the necessity of
strong emotions. Our minds were full of what we had just witnessed.
There are periods in life when, without being discouraged, the future
appears more uncertain. It was only three days since we had entered
the Orinoco, and there yet remained three months for us to navigate
rivers encumbered with rocks, and in boats smaller than that in which
we had so nearly perished.
The night was intensely hot. We lay upon skins spread on the ground,
there being no trees to which we could fasten our hammocks. The
torments of the mosquitos increased every day; and we were surprised
to find that on this spot our fires did not prevent the approach of
the jaguars. They swam across the arm of the river that separated us
from the mainland. Towards morning we heard their cries very near.
They had come to the island where we passed the night. The Indians
told us that, during the collecting of the turtles' eggs, tigers are
always more frequent in those regions, and display at that period the
greatest intrepidity.
On the following day, the 7th, we passed, on our right, the mouth of
the great Rio Arauca, celebrated for the immense number of birds that
frequent it; and, on our left, the Mission of Uruana, commonly called
La Concepcion de Urbana. This small village, which contains five
hundred souls, was founded by the Jesuits, about the year 1748, by the
union of the Ottomac and Cavere Indians. It lies at the foot of a
mountain composed of detached blocks of granite, which, I believe,
bears the name of Saraguaca. Masses of rock, separated one from the
other by the effect of decomposition, form caverns, in which we find
indubitable proofs of the ancient civilization of the natives.
Hieroglyphic figures, and even characters in regular lines, are seen
sculptured on their sides; though I doubt whether they bear any
analogy to alphabetic writing. We visited the Mission of Uruana on our
return from the Rio Negro, and saw with our own eyes those heaps of
earth which the Ottomacs eat, and which have become the subject of
such lively discussion in Europe.* (* This earth is a greasy kind of
clay, which, in seasons of scarcity, the natives use to assuage the
cravings of hunger; it having been proved by their experience as well
as by physiological researches, that want of food can be more easily
borne by filling the cavity of the stomach with some substance, even
although it may be in itself very nearly or totally innutritious. The
Indian hunters of North America, for the same purpose, tie boards
tightly across the abdomen; and most savage races are found to have
recourse to expedients that answer the same end.)
On measuring the breadth of the Orinoco between the islands called
Isla de Uruana and Isla de la Manteca, we found it, during the high
waters, 2674 toises, which make nearly four nautical miles. This is
eight times the breadth of the Nile at Manfalout and Syout, yet we
were at the distance of a hundred and ninety-four leagues from the
mouth of the Orinoco.
The temperature of the water at its surface was 27.8 degrees of the
centigrade thermometer, near Uruana. That of the river Zaire, or
Congo, in Africa, at an equal distance from the equator, was found by
Captain Tuckey, in the months of July and August, to be only from 23.9
to 25.6 degrees.
The western bank of the Orinoco remains low farther than the mouth of
the Meta; while from the Mission of Uruana the mountains approach the
eastern bank more and more. As the strength of the current increases
in proportion as the river grows narrower, the progress of our boat
became much slower. We continued to ascend the Orinoco under sail, but
the high and woody grounds deprived us of the wind. At other times the
narrow passes between the mountains by which we sailed, sent us
violent gusts, but of short duration. The number of crocodiles
increased below the junction of the Rio Arauca, particularly opposite
the great lake of Capanaparo, which communicates with the Orinoco, as
the Laguna de Cabullarito communicates at the same time with the
Orinoco and the Rio Arauca. The Indians told us that the crocodiles
came from the inlands, where they had been buried in the dried mud of
the savannahs. As soon as the first showers arouse them from their
lethargy, they crowd together in troops, and hasten toward the river,
there to disperse again. Here, in the equinoctial zone, it is the
increase of humidity that recalls them to life; while in Georgia and
Florida, in the temperate zone, it is the augmentation of heat that
rouses these animals from a state of nervous and muscular debility,
during which the active powers of respiration are suspended or
singularly diminished. The season of great drought, improperly called
the summer of the torrid zone, corresponds with the winter of the
temperate zone; and it is a curious physiological phenomenon to
observe the alligators of North America plunged into a winter-sleep by
excess of cold, at the same period when the crocodiles of the Llanos
begin their siesta or summer-sleep. If it were probable that these
animals of the same family had heretofore inhabited the same northern
country, we might suppose that, in advancing towards the equator, they
feel the want of repose after having exercised their muscles for seven
or eight months, and that they retain under a new sky the habits which
appear to be essentially linked with their organization.
Having passed the mouths of the channels communicating with the lake
of Capanaparo, we entered a part of the Orinoco, where the bed of the
river is narrowed by the mountains of Baraguan. It is a kind of
strait, reaching nearly to the confluence of the Rio Suapure. From
these granite mountains the natives heretofore gave the name of
Baraguan to that part of the Orinoco comprised between the mouths of
the Arauca and the Atabapo. Among savage nations great rivers bear
different denominations in the different portions of their course. The
Passage of Baraguan presents a picturesque scene. The granite rocks
are perpendicular. They form a range of mountains lying north-west and
south-east; and the river cutting this dyke nearly at a right angle,
the summits of the mountains appear like separate peaks. Their
elevation in general does not surpass one hundred and twenty toises;
but their situation in the midst of a small plain, their steep
declivities, and their flanks destitute of vegetation, give them a
majestic character. They are composed of enormous masses of granite of
a parallelopipedal figure, but rounded at the edges, and heaped one
upon another. The blocks are often eighty feet long, and twenty or
thirty broad. They would seem to have been piled up by some external
force, if the proximity of a rock identical in its composition, not
separated into blocks but filled with veins, did not prove that the
parallelopipedal form is owing solely to the action of the atmosphere.
These veins, two or three inches thick, are distinguished by a
fine-grained quartz-granite crossing a coarse-grained granite almost
porphyritic, and abounding in fine crystals of red feldspar. I sought
in vain, in the Cordillera of Baraguan, for hornblende, and those
steatitic masses that characterise several granites of the Higher Alps
in Switzerland.
We landed in the middle of the strait of Baraguan to measure its
breadth. The rocks project so much towards the river that I measured
with difficulty a base of eighty toises. I found the river eight
hundred and eighty-nine toises broad. In order to conceive how this
passage bears the name of a strait, we must recollect that the breadth
of the river from Uruana to the junction of the Meta is in general
from 1500 to 2500 toises. In this place, which is extremely hot and
barren, I measured two granite summits, much rounded: one was only a
hundred and ten, and the other eighty-five, toises. There are higher
summits in the interior of the group, but in general these mountains,
of so wild an aspect, have not the elevation that is assigned to them
by the missionaries.
We looked in vain for plants in the clefts of the rocks, which are as
steep as walls, and furnish some traces of stratification. We found
only an old trunk of aubletia* (* Aubletia tiburba.), with large
apple-shaped fruit, and a new species of the family of the apocyneae.*
(* Allamanda salicifolia.) All the stones were covered with an
innumerable quantity of iguanas and geckos with spreading and
membranous fingers. These lizards, motionless, with heads raised, and
mouths open, seemed to suck in the heated air. The thermometer placed
against the rock rose to 50.2 degrees. The soil appeared to undulate,
from the effect of mirage, without a breath of wind being felt. The
sun was near the zenith, and its dazzling light, reflected from the
surface of the river, contrasted with the reddish vapours that
enveloped every surrounding object. How vivid is the impression
produced by the calm of nature, at noon, in these burning climates!
The beasts of the forests retire to the thickets; the birds hide
themselves beneath the foliage of the trees, or in the crevices of the
rocks. Yet, amidst this apparent silence, when we lend an attentive
ear to the most feeble sounds transmitted through the air, we hear a
dull vibration, a continual murmur, a hum of insects, filling, if we
may use the expression, all the lower strata of the air. Nothing is
better fitted to make man feel the extent and power of organic life.
Myriads of insects creep upon the soil, and flutter round the plants
parched by the heat of the sun. A confused noise issues from every
bush, from the decayed trunks of trees, from the clefts of the rocks,
and from the ground undermined by lizards, millepedes, and cecilias.
These are so many voices proclaiming to us that all nature breathes;
and that, under a thousand different forms, life is diffused
throughout the cracked and dusty soil, as well as in the bosom of the
waters, and in the air that circulates around us.
The sensations which I here recall to mind are not unknown to those
who, without having advanced to the equator, have visited Italy,
Spain, or Egypt. That contrast of motion and silence, that aspect of
nature at once calm and animated, strikes the imagination of the
traveller when he enters the basin of the Mediterranean, within the
zone of olives, dwarf palms, and date-trees.
We passed the night on the eastern bank of the Orinoco, at the foot of
a granitic hill. Near this desert spot was formerly seated the Mission
of San Regis. We could have wished to find a spring in the Baraguan,
for the water of the river had a smell of musk, and a sweetish taste
extremely disagreeable. In the Orinoco, as well as in the Apure, we
are struck with the difference observable in the various parts of the
river near the most barren shore. The water is sometimes very
drinkable, and sometimes seems to be loaded with a slimy matter. "It
is the bark (meaning the coriaceous covering) of the putrefied cayman
that is the cause," say the natives. "The more aged the cayman, the
more bitter is his bark." I have no doubt that the carcasses of these
large reptiles, those of the manatees, which weigh five hundred
pounds, and the presence of the porpoises (toninas) with their
mucilaginous skin, may contaminate the water, especially in the
creeks, where the river has little velocity. Yet the spots where we
found the most fetid water, were not always those where dead animals
were accumulated on the beach. When, in such burning climates, where
we are constantly tormented by thirst, we are reduced to drink the
water of a river at the temperature of 27 or 28 degrees, we cannot
help wishing at least that water so hot, and so loaded with sand,
should be free from smell.
On the 8th of April we passed the mouths of the Suapure or Sivapuri,
and the Caripo, on the east, and the outlet of the Sinaruco on the
west. This last river is, next to the Rio Arauca, the most
considerable between the Apure and the Meta. The Suapure, full of
little cascades, is celebrated among the Indians for the quantity of
wild honey obtained from the forests in its neighbourhood. The
melipones there suspend their enormous hives to the branches of trees.
Father Gili, in 1766, made an excursion on the Suapure, and on the
Turiva, which falls into it. He there found tribes of the nation of
Areverians. We passed the night a little below the island Macapina.
Early on the following morning we arrived at the beach of Pararuma,
where we found an encampment of Indians similar to that we had seen at
the Boca de la Tortuga. They had assembled to search the sands, for
collecting the turtles' eggs, and extracting the oil; but they had
unfortunately made a mistake of several days. The young turtles had
come out of their shells before the Indians had formed their camp; and
consequently the crocodiles and the garzes, a species of large white
herons, availed themselves of the delay. These animals, alike fond of
the flesh of the young turtles, devour an innumerable quantity. They
fish during the night, for the tortuguillos do not come out of the
earth to gain the neighbouring river till after the evening twilight.
The zamuro vultures are too indolent to hunt after sunset. They stalk
along the shores in the daytime, and alight in the midst of the Indian
encampment to steal provisions; but they often find no other means of
satisfying their voracity than by attacking young crocodiles of seven
or eight inches long, either on land or in water of little depth. It
is curious to see the address with which these little animals defend
themselves for a time against the vultures. As soon as they perceive
the enemy, they raise themselves on their fore paws, bend their backs,
and lift up their heads, opening their wide jaws. They turn
continually, though slowly, toward their assailant to show him their
teeth, which, even when the animal has but recently issued from the
egg, are very long and sharp. Often while the attention of a young
crocodile is wholly engaged by one of the zamuros, another seizes the
favourable opportunity for an unforeseen attack. He pounces on the
crocodile, grasps him by the neck, and bears him off to the higher
regions of the air. We had an opportunity of observing this manoeuvre
during several mornings, at Mompex, on the banks of the Magdalena,
where we had collected more than forty very young crocodiles, in a
spacious court surrounded by a wall.
We found among the Indians assembled at Pararuma some white men, who
had come from Angostura to purchase the tortoise-butter. After having
wearied us for a long time with their complaints of the bad harvest,
and the mischief done by the tigers among the turtles, at the time of
laying their eggs, they conducted us beneath an ajoupa, that rose in
the centre of the Indian camp. We here found the missionary-monks of
Carichana and the Cataracts seated on the ground, playing at cards,
and smoking tobacco in long pipes. Their ample blue garments, their
shaven heads, and their long beards, might have led us to mistake them
for natives of the East. These poor priests received us in the kindest
manner, giving us every information necessary for the continuation of
our voyage. They had suffered from tertian fever for some months; and
their pale and emaciated aspect easily convinced us that the countries
we were about to visit were not without danger to the health of
travellers.
The Indian pilot, who had brought us from San Fernando de Apure as far
as the shore of Pararuma, was unacquainted with the passage of the
rapids* (* Little cascades, chorros raudalitos.) of the Orinoco, and
would not undertake to conduct our bark any farther. We were obliged
to conform to his will. Happily for us, the missionary of Carichana
consented to sell us a fine canoe at a very moderate price: and Father
Bernardo Zea, missionary of the Atures and Maypures near the great
cataracts, offered, though still unwell, to accompany us as far as the
frontiers of Brazil. The number of natives who can assist in guiding
boats through the Raudales is so inconsiderable that, but for the
presence of the monk, we should have risked spending whole weeks in
these humid and unhealthy regions. On the banks of the Orinoco, the
forests of the Rio Negro are considered as delicious spots. The air is
indeed cooler and more healthful. The river is free from crocodiles;
one may bathe without apprehension, and by night as well as by day
there is less torment from the sting of insects than on the Orinoco.
Father Zea hoped to reestablish his health by visiting the Missions of
Rio Negro. He talked of those places with that enthusiasm which is
felt in all the colonies of South America for everything far off.
The assemblage of Indians at Pararuma again excited in us that
interest, which everywhere attaches man in a cultivated state to the
study of man in a savage condition, and the successive development of
his intellectual faculties. How difficult to recognize in this infancy
of society, in this assemblage of dull, silent, inanimate Indians, the
primitive character of our species! Human nature does not here
manifest those features of artless simplicity, of which poets in every
language have drawn such enchanting pictures. The savage of the
Orinoco appeared to us to be as hideous as the savage of the
Mississippi, described by that philosophical traveller Volney, who so
well knew how to paint man in different climates. We are eager to
persuade ourselves that these natives, crouching before the fire, or
seated on large turtle-shells, their bodies covered with earth and
grease, their eyes stupidly fixed for whole hours on the beverage they
are preparing, far from being the primitive type of our species, are a
degenerate race, the feeble remains of nations who, after having been
long dispersed in the forests, are replunged into barbarism.
Red paint being in some sort the only clothing of the Indians, two
kinds may be distinguished among them, according as they are more or
less affluent. The common decoration of the Caribs, the Ottomacs, and
the Jaruros, is onoto,* (* Properly anoto. This word belongs to the
Tamanac Indians. The Maypures call it majepa. The Spanish missionaries
say onotarse, to rub the skin with anato.) called by the Spaniards
achote, and by the planters of Cayenne, rocou. It is the colouring
matter extracted from the pulp of the Bixa orellana.* (* The word
bixa, adopted by botanists, is derived from the ancient language of
Haiti (the island of St. Domingo). Rocou, the term commonly used by
the French, is derived from the Brazilian word, urucu.) The Indian
women prepare the anato by throwing the seeds of the plant into a tub
filled with water. They beat this water for an hour, and then leave it
to deposit the colouring fecula, which is of an intense brick-red.
After having separated the water, they take out the fecula, dry it
between their hands, knead it with oil of turtles' eggs, and form it
into round cakes of three or four ounces weight. When turtle oil is
wanting, some tribes mix with the anato the fat of the crocodile.