Gold and silver ornaments—Bridal trip on the
Andes—Manufacturers of bark rope—Cotton trees—Winds and
currents of the mountains—Population—Cultivation—Flocks of
sheep—Frosty nights—Reports of robbers—Shoemaker—Ancient
fortification—Indians travelling—Condor's wings—A
padre on the road—Sugar-cane patches—Spanish Creoles—An
African slave—Apurimac bridge—Cabbage patch—Peruvian
widow—Bullfight—Fish and horned cattle—Cuzco—Market
place—Steamboat navigation—Eastern side of the Andes—Coca
plantation—Head of Madre-de-Dios—Rivers Cosnipata, Tono, and
Piñipiñi—Forests—Tigers—Monkeys—Chuncho savages—View of the
low lands from a peak of the Andes—Cinchona bark gatherers.
This town was formerly celebrated for manufacturers of beautiful gold
and silver ornaments. Exported to Spain they were highly prized. Old
ornaments are still for sale, which are of virgin metal, some of them
curious imitations of birds and animals. In the small shops around
the plaza, cotton goods are sold, but there is little activity in
anything. The picture of decay is distressing; blind people walk arm
in arm with cripples; no sound of busy wheels or of business is heard;
a death-like silence prevails, both day and night, only broken by the
chime of enormous steeple bells, where the ragged population kneel
before an altar groaning with the precious metals. The priests, with few
exceptions, are the only fat looking people in this part of the country,
others being taxed for the support of the government and the church.
There are many pleasant families here; the gentlemen frank and
agreeable. Several of them came to see me, and expressed great pleasure
at the idea of advancing their country by steam navigation. One
gray-headed gentleman told me _he_ probably would not live to see the
result of the expedition, but he believed his sons would, and daughters
too. He gave me his blessing, which was quite sincere. The prefect was
also interested in the enterprize, and showed it by presenting maps,
and furnishing everything necessary for an easy passage through a rough
country. We were comfortably quartered, and kindly treated by all. The
ladies of Ayacucho are handsome, ride well on horseback, are extremely
agreeable in conversation, and naturally talented. One who can boast
of having been in Lima, is never a "wall flower" among them. With a
modest bearing, they speak out, and to the point. Some answer _serious_
questions affirmatively at the age of twelve years. One of the first
they ask is, "are you married?"
Sugar and vanilla beans are produced on the eastern side of the
mountains. Ice and rock salt are brought from the glaciers, in sight,
with cream from the valley. Ice-cream is made and sold by the Indian
women in the plaza. Our pistols kept bright, and burnished steel remains
in the open air without rusting. Grapes are not very fine in quality.
Goats seem to thrive better, and poultry again appears here. At dinner,
seated by a lady, with large gold rings on each hand, and heavy gold
chains around her neck, supporting a locket and gold cross, it was
remarked that, those wearing expensive ornaments were supposed to be
wealthy. She, evidently pleased, asked me to help her cut her chicken
bones into tooth picks. Some of the dishes, cups, spoons, and forks were
roughly made of solid silver, though there are thought to be few wealthy
people in the city.
Breakfast is taken at from 10 to 11 a. m., dinner from 4 to 5 p. m. If
supper is taken, it is at a very late hour; coffee is drank early in the
morning, and tea in the evening. Tables only are set twice; their meats
are served in different forms, highly seasoned with pepper and spices,
generally accompanied with potatoes. Quinua, a native plant, considered
a delicacy, is also prepared in different ways; the seeds are cooked
with cheese, or boiled with milk and pimento.
On Monday, August 4, 1851, at 8 a. m., thermometer, 59°; wet bulb, 54°.
Our course stretches to the eastward again, over a dry, uninteresting
road, hedged in with cactus, bearing the _Tuna_ fruit. The country is
uncultivated, except in the valleys. Crossing a well-built stone bridge,
over a stream flowing northward, we passed a grist-mill. Peach trees
were in blossom, and some few flowers. After a ride over these barren
heights, the sight of a fresh rapid brook gladdens the hearts of our
mules.
Matara post house is near a gorge in the range of mountains trending
southeast and northwest. The potatoes and barley are of good size here;
on the northwest side of a hill, I cut eleven stalks of wheat, produced
from _one_ seed, and counted four hundred and fourteen grains from the
heads of these sprouts. It is not unusual to see twenty stalks produced
from one grain—eleven is about the average. These crops are only raised
after a careful system of irrigation. The Indians lead the water from
the heights to a great distance; this seems to be a favorite occupation
with them. Wherever water can be had, there the soil yields a rich
harvest; in other places, the mid-day sun kills the young stalks.
[Illustration: MATARA POST HOUSE.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
One of our arrieros—a Quichua Indian—has his wife; being just married,
they are very fond. This appears to be her bridal trip. Mounted like
a man, on a white horse, her blue dress and scarlet manto show to
advantage. She wears a straw hat, with broad ribband. Her hair, after
their custom, is plaited and hangs in two braids over her shoulders.
The Indians all salute her as she rides by, and has something pleasant
to say to both; she bows and receives it smilingly, while he looks
modestly, and becomes very much engaged attending to his duties; while
nearly out of sight, among the mountains, he is constantly talking by
her side.
Over these rough roads the arrieros generally travel on foot. They walk
for days with more ease than the mules, and quite as fast. On the plains
they trot along after the baggage for hours at a time. Messages from the
governors and sub-prefects are often sent to the prefect by Indians, on
foot, rather than by horse or mule. The man cuts across the mountains
and delivers his despatches long before they could arrive by the road.
I believe the Indians prefer walking to riding. Sandals protect their
feet from the rocky and gravelly road, being at the same time cool.
Whatever they have to carry is fastened to the back, leaving the arms
free. Sometimes they have a short cane in one hand for protection
against dogs, or for support over steep, irregular paths. I have seen
them crawling on all fours, up hill.
We expected an extended view over lands to the east of our range, but
when we arrived at the ridge in the gorge, we saw mountains beyond
mountains, snow peaks and rocky rounded tops, deep valleys and narrow
ravines, all thrown about in confused shapes. After travelling for
hours, we made leagues by the road; yet the distance from the Pacific
to the Atlantic is short on our map.
In the small town of Ocron, the people were threshing barley and
twisting bark into rope. A good-looking young man arose from the
rope-making party of men and women, and offered us a glass of chicha.
It seemed impolite to refuse a kind offer when the people do you a
favor and wish you to consider it as such, but I cannot drink it; so
declining with thanks, we pass on leaving José, who naturally leans
the chicha-way. After a long descent, we encamped by a lonely house,
enveloped in foliage. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 73°. We have sand flies,
musquitos, bugs, bees, and humming-birds. The whole scene is changed to
mid-summer; cotton grows upon small trees, so do peaches and chirimoyas.
The Peruvian mail passed by from Lima on its way to the southern
departments. The letters are carried in two small hide boxes on the
back of a fine mule, with a swallow-tailed red and white flag flying
from a short pole fastened between the trunks. The conductor is well
mounted and armed; wears a scarlet cloak, and rides after; while the
mounted arriero trots ahead, blowing a horn. They travel at a quickened
pace up hill and down. I should like to overhaul that letter-box, but
remittances are often made by the mail, and a desire to look for United
States letters on the road might be considered unlawful.
We crossed the Rio Pampas, flowing northwest, upon a suspension bridge
made of bark rope. Eight cables are stretched across, over which small
cross-pieces of light wood are fastened to form a floor; two large
cables above the sides bear part of the weight, by small ropes laced
from the floor over them. Great care had to be taken by leading the
mules one by one. My mule, Rose, gave more trouble than any; she was
very much frightened, and would not budge until another mule walked
just before her, and we all urged her not to turn back. I feared she
would rush through the lacing into the river, one hundred and twenty
feet below. The creaking and swinging of the bridge was fearful for
about forty yards. We saw fishermen in the light-green water below;
on the rocks sat numbers of cormorants, ready to dive for fish. The
stream is rapid and very winding, turning snake-like round the base of
mountains on its way through the Apurimac, Ucayali, and Amazon, to the
Atlantic. It takes its rise to the south of us, near the tops of the
great Cordilleras; our road leads along its banks, ascending through
stunted trees, from which sweet air plants hang in full flower. Here
the vegetable productions seem to suffer in the struggle between the
moisture from the river and the burning rays of the sun, which seem to
obstruct and keep down the plant that shows a desire to improve.
After a long and tiresome ascent we reached Bombam post house; the
postmaster offered his house, and seemed astonished that we did not seek
it in preference to our tent. He sent us chicken soup and boiled corn
for supper. A flock of kids came playing about our tent; their faces
resemble those of monkeys. The Indians killed a large hog, and the women
made blood pudding. José assured me it was good _with chicha_; he seems
to fancy the custom of living among the Indians.
There is no regular wind in this region; currents of air draw in through
the mountains from all directions; although the clouds far above us show
wind, we are unable to tell that it comes from any particular direction,
and below it is quite calm. While encamped on the high places, frequent
efforts were made to distinguish the satellites of Jupiter by the naked
eye, but we are not high enough for that yet, though our sight is very
good. The rivers around flow to every point of the compass, and make
it difficult to decide if the waters make the winds, or the relative
positions of the mountains _alone_ cause these drafts. The winds are
very gentle, and curl the cirrus or hairy clouds in most graceful
shapes about the hoary-headed Andes in rich and delicate clusters;
when the peak is concealed, all but the blue tinge below the snow, we
see a natural bridal veil. An easterly wind lifts and turns them to
dark, cumulus clouds, settled on the frosty crown, like an old man's
winter cap; the physiognomical expression is that of anger. The change
is accompanied by thunder, and seems to command all around to clothe
themselves for storms. The cold rain comes down in fine drops upon us;
the day grows darker, and the clouds press close upon the earth. Our
oil-cloth hat-covers and India-rubber ponchos were admired at a small
settlement. The children were at school under a shed, pulling their bare
feet under them to keep them warm; they looked as if they wished school
was out. The people are better looking as we travel south, and are more
cheerful. A girl stowed José's saddle-bags with fresh bread and cheese
from a door-way, and said she would rather travel than keep shop. José
said his work was wet; she answered, hers was too dry. The road becomes
very slippery when wet; it is best to have the mules shod for safety
as for the comfort of the animal. They worry very much sliding about
under heavy rain; some of the baggage mules fall upon the ground. The
flat lands are thickly populated, and well cultivated. On the rolling
mountains we come to grazing again; the flocks roam in the desert, where
we pass the night. At supper the arriero tells José, in Quichua, this is
a dangerous country; robbers live in numbers among the mountain-tops.
They meet the travellers at night upon this uninhabitable part of the
road, and make what terms they please. Their modes of attack differ. If
they see the party in day time, and know the number, they come boldly
up and make their demands; if they are in doubt, their guide comes
alone; inquires after the traveller's health; requests a light for his
cigar, keeping his eyes about him. After expressing a wish to purchase,
he returns to his party, with a full report of his reconnoissance.
Whether they attack or not, the chances are that they will steal the
mules at pasture during the night. José don't feel at ease; is anxious,
after telling me the story, to know what we shall do. The plan for the
night was arranged. If the _guia_ comes, he was to be made fast to the
baggage as soon as he lit his cigar. José was to keep hot water at the
fire; one arriero to sleep with a lasso at hand, the other to watch the
mules. Should any one approach our tent, the arriero was instructed
to lasso and haul him in under José's hot water. Richards was armed
with a carbine and two large ship pistols; my double-barrelled gun and
five-shooter, with rifle bore, made us in all ten shots. At midnight
José peeped into the tent, and after several anxious calls, said, "Sir,
the guia is coming." José did not admire the general plan of action,
but it was not changed. Upon close examination, we found the supposed
guia to be a donkey gazing at the fire. The weapons used by the robbers
is a short thick club, slung stone balls, and knives. They seldom use
fire-arms, but dread them. The savage, dissipated negro, or Peruvian
robber, may come up bravely with his dagger, intent to commit murder;
but let him hear the click of a revolver and he vanishes; the _noise_ is
offensive to him. Robbers waylay travelling merchants, lonely strangers,
and trains of merchandise with loads of silver. The mules are turned
from the road into a wild mountain gorge, where none but robbers live,
and forever lost to the owner. The Montaneros, as they are called,
control the country around.
About daylight in the morning, José was heard grumbling to himself.
While he was _asleep_ a shepherdess's dog robbed his saddle-bags of
our bread and cheese. Sketched the encampment; called it _Ladron_; and
pushed on. A thick fog, and snow under foot. At 6 a. m., thermometer,
39°; wet bulb, 37°. The pasture is improved by burning down the grass
at this season. While the rain storm beats from the eastward, flocks
of vicuñas are grazing to the west of us. The rain turns to hail as the
wind veers to northeast.
In the valley of Andahuailas, we see the wild cherry tree for the first
time in South America. After sundown, the bright pink light, which often
attracts attention at Lima, and sometimes alarms the natives, appears
not unlike the aurora borealis, rising far above the Cordilleras in
the west, while the bright moon lights our path over the Andes to the
east. In Andahuailas we joined the sub-prefect and family at breakfast.
Our baggage was placed in a large room, and mules in the corral. If
hospitality was not quite so highly seasoned with hot pepper it would go
down easier. The rough life on the mountains agrees with body and mind
much better than the luxuries of the valley seem to do.
[Illustration: CAMP LADRON, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
This town has a population of fifteen hundred; mostly Indians. The
valley contains six thousand. There is a great deal of poverty. The
cultivated portions of land seem to be over populated. Deaf and dumb
lounge about. A good-looking woman, with a baby in her arms, came to
my door begging for bread. Her intelligent face was sad. When I gave
her money, the poor creature nearly bent on her knees before us. My
gun-cover wanted repairs; and while applying to a mestizo shoemaker,
with three or four apprentices, the sub-prefect joined me. I unguardedly
told him what I wished, and remarked that the man had so much business
he could not repair it in time, when I was astonished to hear the
sub-prefect order him in a loud and passionate way to do the work. The
shoemaker pointed to the large amount of work on hand, and said he could
not possibly attend to it; when he was at once ordered to do what he was
told by the next morning, and to bring it to the government house. The
cover was repaired, and shoemaker paid. Afterwards I was more careful.
There are abandoned silver mines five leagues south, one of which has
been re-opened by a North American—Charles Stone. I did not see him,
but understood he hopes to work profitably.
The productions of the valley are maize, barley, wheat, lucerne, beans
potatoes, small apples and peaches, with a few chirimoyas of inferior
quality. The tanas fruit is very abundant; the cactus flower beautiful.
The wine drank at the sub-prefect's table was manufactured from the Yca
grape. The wife of the sub-prefect was a very kind person. At breakfast
and dinner hours, ten to twelve poor Indians were sometimes fed by her.
She teaches her little son to treat them politely, telling him to help
them to water, &c.
Entering the small town of Heronimo, we find all the inhabitants
bare-headed, on their knees in the streets and doorways; church bells
ringing; host on the way through the town. A padre walks, with book in
hand, attended by a man with a large umbrella to keep off the sun. A
number of women and men follow, uttering prayers. One of them rings a
small bell. We halted under the shade of a house while the host entered
the church. As the people rose, we travelled on. Six leagues brought us
to Pincor post, where we enjoyed a supper of wild pigeons, six of which
were killed at one shot. They are large, and very like tame pigeons. The
arrieros and José cooked them on sticks before our camp fire. Here, for
the first time, we saw a snake. The songs of frogs are heard among lofty
mountains. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 65°; August 15th. Next morning at
6 a. m., thermometer, 38°; wet bulb, 36°; temperature of a spring, 46°.
On a narrow ridge, with deep valleys on both sides, we have a view of
snow-clad mountains to the east; by the road-side an ancient fort,
called by the arrieros "Quramba." The arrieros (Quichua Indians)
expressed pleasure and surprise when they saw the sketch, wrapping
themselves up in their ponchos, and kneeling on the ground, looking on.
A party of Indians came silently up the ridge; on a journey they are
quiet; when at home they play upon wind instruments and drums. The girls
often sing, but I never heard any whistling; they are not great talkers,
except when excited, and then the women's tongues are remarkably fast.
Nor do I believe they are active thinkers. Their eyes are constantly
moving, for they are sharp-sighted, and notice every thing near them by
a quick, sly glance. Their hearing is very good; so is their knowledge
of the manners, habits, and peculiarities of animals, being constantly
on the watch for game, which they trap, as they are not practised in
the use of fire-arms; nor do these Indians use the bow and arrow. A boy
in the party had a pair of condor's wings; one of them four feet five
inches from the body joint to the tip end. The bone and joints remind
one of heavy iron door hinges. The boy had caught the condor in a trap,
and the bird being too much for a load, he cut off the wings and seemed
to be troubled with the weight of them on his back. The condor is often
seen along the sea-shore, feeding upon cast-up dead fish; but it is
among the lofty peaks of the mountain this wild bird builds its nest.
The most daring and experienced climbers among the boys are unable to
reach their young, or rob their eggs. We looked for the nest and longed
to see the extraordinary bird rise from the valley, bearing in beak and
claws a young lamb to its little ones; or flying from one mountain to
another with a young vicuña. The Indians are fond of baiting condors;
they sometimes hide close enough to the bait to lasso them, and have
been known to conceal themselves under the bait and catch them by the
legs.
Huancarama, a small Indian town situated in a valley, with a little old
church, and Indian population. We met the priest on the road returning
to town; he was followed by a number of persons, to whom he read aloud
as he rode along up hill. Our baggage mules met him in a very narrow
pass; all came to a stand-still, and the not over-cleanly padre was
addressing the arriero in a loud and excited voice. José assured him it
was up-hill work for his party to back out; if he would be kind enough
to stand on one side, we would pass on, which was done. As we cleared
each other, after some chafing of baggage, the extreme politeness of the
padre was more becoming. Sometimes arrieros engage in dreadful fights
with stones, followed up with knives; on such occasions the weaker party
are forced to give way to the strong. It is generally considered proper
for those coming up, to halt on one side to give their mules a rest.
Those standing with heavy loads, head down hill, suffer, and are anxious
to push on. Noises made in the valley resound through the mountains; an
uproar on the summit causes little noise; the echo among these hills
is very great. These people are very careful to unsaddle animals only
_after_ they are cool; otherwise, they say bumps rise on the back, which
become sore. They even leave the bridle a while for fear that taking it
off suddenly will give the mule cold in the head.
[Illustration: RUINS OF THE INCA'S FORT QURAMBA, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
We see at the bottom of the valley of Carquacahua the first sugar
plantation. An old Indian, with hoe in hand, is leading the snowy
waters of the Andes between rows of sugar plants, which are now two
feet high, with rich, yellow leaves. Man seems to suffer like the plant
from the heat of the sun; both would perish under it in this valley,
without sufficient water for irrigating the soil; with it, he plants and
produces a crop every year. A little above his head, on the mountain
side, there appears another climate, with stunted clusters of cactus,
small dry bunches of grass, rocks, and dusty soil, deserted by animal
life, except a green lizard basking in the parching rays of the sun. A
little higher the surface is covered with a lead-colored coat of grass,
turning a little greenish as the eye ascends; when suddenly a streak
of dark earth is capped by the pure white snow, and as you look up it
seems to get deeper and deeper, until the soil is completely enclosed
in a pyramid of eternal snow.
The old Indian exchanges his sugar crop in the plaza for Massachusetts
cotton goods.
Crossing a stone bridge, dated 1564, over a stream of water flowing
northwest, we met a party—ladies and gentlemen—travelling on horseback.
The gentlemen wear green goggles, and the ladies green veils, to protect
the eyes from the glare of the sun, as the reflection of his rays on
the snow often causes inflammation of the eyes, said to be very painful
in the rainy season, when the snow-line reaches below the road. Though
we experienced no inconvenience from the _surumpe_, as this affection
is called, the Creole portion of the population seem to be much afraid
of it, particularly the gentlemen. When a middy, on a visit to Lima,
eleven years ago, I formed a high opinion of the Peruvian horseman as he
pranced through the alameda in the evening, on a well-trained animal.
The Peruvians, anxious to make a show before strangers, put spurs to
their spirited horses, ride at full speed, halt suddenly, and worry the
animal by turning short round and jumping him. A man rode by me at full
speed, and drew up just before my mule; in doing so he pulled rather
hard on the Spanish bit, and the horse throwing up his head, struck the
rider in the mouth, cutting his lips and displacing six of his teeth,
which saved him from pitching over the horse's head.
The ladies and their maids are fresh-looking, and manage their horses
with ease. A negress rode a man's saddle, and wore a flat straw-hat,
trimmed with fancy colored ribband. The riding skirt is dispensed
with under the bloomer style; she wore very long orange-colored _silk_
stockings, and on the heel of a small and neat black shoe were buckled
her woman's spurs. Her horse had a rocking pace, her hat gracefully
placed on one side of her plaited wool, with a large cigar between white
teeth; she smoked her way through the mountains, carefully guarding
her smiles, only condescending to deal them out to her mistress's most
deserving friends. African slavery exists in Peru.
On arriving at the town of Abancay, the sub-prefect was in the country.
The governor kindly offered me a house, but as I wished to make some
observations upon the stars during the night, we passed on, and encamped
in the neighborhood. At 2 p. m., thermometer, 77°. The mules were well
fed with lucerne. They suffer and begin to show effects of the travel.
The parrots are talking in the bushes near our tent, and a cricket lives
with us.
The climate is delightful in this sugar valley. Near town is the ruin of
another fort. Flowers, vines, and bushes cover it so thickly that the
traveller would not suspect he was passing a masked fortification. The
road from it leads over the mountains to the northeast. At 11 a. m.,
temperature of a spring, 54°; air, 55°; sun, 60°; cumulus clouds and
northerly wind. The road seems to be getting worse, and the overhanging
rocks are so low, we occasionally bump our heads. By way of resting
our animals, we march on foot. A few hours travel, over a wild country,
brings us into another valley, where the cattle are larger than any we
have yet seen. Passing an idle great mill, on a stream flowing east,
we came to the hacienda Lucmoj, a grove of willow trees shaded the
avenue; the house was of two stories, large and neatly white-washed,
the garden richly supplied with fruits and flowers; the peach tree in
full blossom. The out-buildings for the Indian servants were in good
order; the shelter for sheep, horned cattle, horses, mules, jackasses,
and numbers of goats, showed unusual kind treatment. The owner of this
valuable estate was a young bachelor, of intelligence and hospitality.
The death of his father gave him possession of the property. He talked
with me about his country, and remarked that "the _government_ did
nothing for the people." Upon being asked, why the people depended upon
the government, he looked surprised, and wanted to know whether all the
improvements in North America were not made by the government? The few
silver mines in the neighborhood have been abandoned.
After declining a polite invitation to remain some days, we took a short
cut across the corn-field to the town of Curahuasi, a miserable little
Indian place. The water from the mountains passes down the ravine to
small patches of sugar-cane. The mountains are wild; winding around
one of them, we suddenly came in sight of the long-looked for river
Apurimac. Its waters foam as they dash over its rocky bed. Our view
was cut off by another turn, and leaving the surface of the earth, we
enter a tunnel, cut into the mountain, which stands like its strata,
perpendicular, by the side of the river. Sky-light holes are cut through
the rock, and as we travel along, in alternate light and darkness, the
arrieros shout at the top of their voices at the train. The mules are
fearful of proceeding. Coming to a house, which was open on both sides,
we looked over the Apurimac bridge, and then down into the river, a
fearful distance below. The toll-house is inhabited by two women, a man,
a child, a dog, and two jugs of chicha. The ropes of this suspension
bridge—of bark, about the size of a sloop-of-war's hemp cable—are made
fast to the posts which support the roof of the house. It is best for
travellers not to be too particular in their examinations, how these
ropes are fastened. A windlass in the middle of the house kept the
ropes hauled up when they slack off. One woman, a good-looking black,
was seated by a large jar of chicha, which she sold to travellers, with
her child on the other side; she spun cotton, with a smoking fire close
to keep off the sand flies. These little insects are here in swarms. A
white woman was seated by the windlass, holding her head in her hands.
I thought she had the small-pox, but the red bumps on her face were
caused by these annoying flies. The baggage was taken off the mules as
they were brought through the house, and one by one taken across the
river, when the arrieros carried over the baggage on their own backs.
When Rose, a most sensible animal, saw the bridge, she held down her
head, laid her ears back, switched her tail, and plainly _kicked_ out
the words, "I won't go over." She is generally indulged and coaxed; an
old mule was put forward, and she behind to follow him. As the arriero
walked on with the bridle, the toll man pursued the old mule with a
rope's end, when it backed, kicked with both heels, pulling the arriero
along. We took shelter behind the windlass, with a barometer, the
woman screamed, picked up the child with one hand by the neck, and the
chicha jug by the same extremity, and beat a retreat. She mounted the
windlass, and, in a towering passion, commanded with her tongue, telling
the men to secure the animal at once. José stood out of the way with
Rose, for the old mule had charge of the house, and was getting warm;
he succeeded in putting his hind-legs in the fire, when the chunks flew
in all directions; the mule became angry, as if it had been abused here
before. As soon as he cooled down a little, the bridle was taken off; a
hide rope put over his head and hitched round his nose; each fore-leg
was also fastened by the end of a rope, and three men held the three
ropes. The nose-rope was fast pulled until the mule's neck was stretched
out; one foot-rope advanced one leg; the other foot-rope being then
pulled, brought the first foot down, getting one pace ahead; so they
gradually walked him over. Rose had been looking on at the effects of
his obstinacy, and gently followed. Two dollars were paid for our two
mules and the baggage; the arriero paid six and a quarter cents apiece
for his mules; this is the _custom_ of the country. The bridge is eighty
yards long and six feet wide, distant one hundred and fifty feet above
the dark green waters. There are six floor-ropes, crossed by small
sticks, lashed with strips of hide to the cables. This platform is hung
to two side-cables by small bark ropes. The river flows northwest, with
a width of twenty yards.
The Apurimac empties into the river Santa Ana, and is an important
tributary to the Ucayali, after it receives the waters of the Juaja. We
are told the Apurimac was the western boundary of the Inca territory
during the reign of the first Inca—Manco Capac. The road from this
bridge to Banca post-house winds up the mountain. In some places
the rock has been cut like stairs. The arrieros help up the mules by
pushing against the lower part of the baggage; we were continually
stopping to have the loads fastened on. There are few houses near
the post—uninviting in appearance—the people being mostly mestizos.
A party of women and men, all intoxicated, seated by the road-side
drinking chicha, politely invited us to join them; some looked very
thin and sickly; an old woman was groaning on her bed at the door; a
boy close by her had some horrible disease breaking out on his face;
he was deformed and looked like a person on the edge of the grave, but
amused himself by playing in the dust; his ghastly stare made us fear
he had some infectious disorder. On the other side was a woman shaving
a boy's head—the shape of a mule's more than that of a human being.
An enclosure, containing a patch of cabbages, was found near a stream
of cold water, which flowed rapidly from the snow peaks in sight,
through an expensive aqueduct, supported on pillars of stone, neatly
white-washed, leading to a sugar plantation some distance below us, on
the east side of the Apurimac. We encamped here without permission of
the owner, who was absent. While our mules were feeding and we enjoying
our supper, a woman came in, and in a hurried and excited tone of voice,
addressed me in Quichua. Our difficulty was with a Peruvian widow, very
good-looking, but who talked at a terrible rate. José concealed himself
behind a peach-tree full of blossoms, preparing tea. She said she was
poor, but had sons full grown, and that we had taken her garden fence
down, and turned eight mules among her cabbages. José told her, when we
arrived, tired, after a long march, she was not at home to give consent;
her grounds had particularly pleased us, and we had taken the liberty to
enter them for the night; in the morning the fence should be repaired
to her satisfaction, and money paid for the use of her grounds; the
arrieros' mules should go out, and ours be fastened and fed close to the
tent, which was not among the plants, but at a proper distance on our
side. She, smiling, accepted a cup of tea, and they spent the evening
sociably together, in the clear moonlight, with no sand-flies, and a
westerly wind.
[Illustration: APURIMAC BRIDGE, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
Cabbage, salad, onions, and garlic transplanted here, do not thrive as
well as on the coast, and are less cared for than the potato; except
the garlic, which is a favorite with the Creoles. Leguminous plants are
used in the chupe when nicely made.
_August 19._—At 6 30, a. m., thermometer, 53°; the widow's fence being
repaired, she received pay, saying "God bless you, good-bye." As we rode
off we caught José receiving an answer to his farewell smile. At 11 30,
thermometer, 70°. The country has a dry, uninteresting appearance near
the town of Mallepata, yet the animals and vegetables seem to be in
larger proportion. Flocks of parrots and pigeons increase in numbers;
the sheep appear to be smaller in size; horned cattle and horses are
plenty; the mountains are lower; sugar plantings more numerous. Tall
willow trees grow by the side of a stream we cross, flowing south, and
another running west, with milky colored water, which the arrieros
prevent their mules from drinking, saying it is not good for our
use. The people we meet look like Chinese in the face, and dress like
gentlemen of the olden time—short breeches, long coats, with big buttons
and large pocket-flaps, in cloth of scarlet and of blue.
As we rode through the Indian town of Limatambo, our attention was drawn
to a crowd of people on the plaza, which was barricaded at the corners,
and seats put all around. Flags of different colors were waving in
the air; drums beating to a singular noise of wind instruments. We had
arrived in time to see a bull fight. The matadores were dressed like
the clowns of a circus. People were busy receiving and arranging large
chicha jars by the walls. All were dressed, and behaved well. The boys
gathered round an enclosure with a door opening into the plaza. The
girls sat up straight on their seats, and looked cheerful and pleasant.
Among them all, I only observed two white persons, who were of Spanish
descent, and neatly dressed in blue. The town was filled with people
from the surrounding country. Musicians marched round the plaza in
the rear of six Indian matadores, who taking their positions, a strict
silence followed. A door opened, and out popped an immense _condor_,
fastened by the bill with a line, and to the other end of which a large
man was attached. This _surprise_ brought forth shouts and laughter.
The bird flapped his large wings, and ran about trying to escape. The
music commenced again, and he was taken out, when, during another silent
pause, in bounced a young wild bull. As the Indians shouted, he came
to a stand in the centre, as though waiting to be heard. He soon began
to play; shaking his head, he made a dash, and knocked a man down. The
Indian lay flat upon the ground; the bull bellowed with rage, while he
endeavored to get his horns under the body to toss him, throwing back
dirt with his fore-foot. Not succeeding, he got down on his knees, yet
the Indian was too flat for him to lift. Others came up and teased the
bull away, when he charged at several, until the animal was completely
exhausted. Then he made for the door, and the people so laughed at him,
that he came back in a rage; but there were many on the ground, and he
was bewildered, and could not make up his mind who among us all he could
attack. He retired with the music; others entered, till the afternoon
passed away. When we were far on our road, José said the people were
merrily dancing away the night. The chicha is brought from a distance
on jackasses, in large raw-hide bags, well corked; two bags are slung
over the sides of the animal.
In the flat bottom near the town of Suriti, some small fish were bottled
from a snow-water stream. During a heavy hail storm from the southeast,
sheep flocked together in small gangs, and stood in a ring, with heads
out, like a drove of partridges going to rest. The hail-stones were as
large as peas. Thunder clapped about our ears. At mid-day thermometer,
65°; two hours after, amidst the hail storm, it fell to 41°.
Ducks, geese, snipe, and a large black curlew, are found in the valley
in great numbers. In the rainy season, a portion of the lands are
flooded. Now the cattle have good pasture. This land shows the remains
of a large lake, to judge from appearances. The annual deposits washed
from the mountains decrease the depth of water at the end of each rainy
season. The land gradually rises, channels are formed, and the water is
drained off, which in time will leave the valley free of floods. When
fish become extinct, horned cattle and the shepherd's herd occupy their
places. The Indians are breaking up their barley stubble with ploughs.
Population increases. The road is paved as we rise to the top of a small
gap, and pass under a large arch, which supports a well-built stone
aqueduct. We halted, and gazed with delight at the ancient curiosity
of the New World—the city of Cuzco, centuries ago the seat of the
Incas. The view is beautiful. Close against the hills, at the west of
the valley, we see the ruins of the Temple of the Sun; Catholic church
steeples rise amidst smaller buildings of a large city. The floor of the
valley is carpeted with green, while afar off, opposite the churches,
are the white snow-capped Andes in a clear blue sky. Suddenly a heavy
cloud came over the city from the south, and we arrived in the plaza
under a heavy rain. Entering the government house, I found the prefect
of the department of Cuzco very sick in bed with "peste," (influenza,)
attended by a doctor and a priest. His aide-de-camp appeared in full
uniform, and laughingly told me he was a lieutenant in the Peruvian
navy, with a major's commission in the army. We arrived in time for
a good dinner: soup, fish from the Apurimac, beef, poultry, potatoes,
yuca, rice, and salad, with pine-apples, chirimoyas, plantains, oranges,
and granadillas. The wine made in the valley is sweet and mild, superior
to that of Yca; excellent coffee is grown on the eastern slope of
the Andes. José hung his saddle-wallets behind the door, for fear the
dogs might again eat his bread and cheese. The old man and the mules
need rest. We have been forty-five days on the road from Tarma. Upon
paying off the arrieros from Andahuialas, I advised them to be more
particular with their money; never to spend it in chicha for themselves
before they buy food for their mules, which they promised me should not
occur _again_. When leaving, they wished to _kiss_ my hand—a practice
encouraged by the priests and authorities, but particularly offensive
to the North American, especially after the poor Indian has faithfully
performed his duties.
_August 23, 1851._—At 8 a. m., thermometer, 57°; wet bulb, 55°. In the
plaza we find, for sale, maize, barley, wheat, beans, sweet potatoes,
white potatoes, chirimoyas, plantains, bananas, oranges, limes, papayas,
watermelons, granadillas, and dried figs, in their season; also peaches,
apples, grapes, and cherries. There is a great display of pottery, well
made, and fancifully colored. White and printed cotton goods bring high
prices; so do coarse woollen cloths, particularly those of blue and
scarlet. The whole population require thick clothing here. The Indians
consume the coarse goods, and fancy large dark bone buttons. The Creoles
generally wear broad-cloth. Everybody has a cloak, worn out against the
door-post, or at the corners of the streets, where the wearer lounges
in the sun. White sombreros or Texan hats are worn during the week, but
on Sundays black beavers. Scull-caps are very much the fashion, made
of wool and cotton, with ear-flaps, and strings to tie under the chin.
The ladies, at church, wear black silk dresses, fancy silk shawls and
stockings; bonnets are not _yet_ worn. On Saturday, the shoemakers enter
the plaza, where their wives and daughters sell the week's work. It is
an amusing sight to see the inhabitants trying on shoes; gentlemen take
this opportunity to compliment the ladies upon their small feet, which
never offends.
The city of Cuzco has a scanty population. The department contains
346,031 souls. There are very few African slaves in the southern
departments.
I found a very friendly disposition towards the expedition, with a
desire to aid me. The prefect offered twenty soldiers as an escort
in the low country, to the east of the Andes. A number of young men
volunteered to accompany me. A meeting of the citizens was held for
the purpose of forming a company to join me. At their suggestion, the
President of Peru was applied to for the payment of twenty thousand
dollars, appropriated by Congress, for the exploration of the Rio
Madre-de-Dios, supposed to be the same with the river Purus, rising
among the mountains to the eastward of Cuzco. I was very much pleased
also to hear a spirited young officer had applied to command the
soldiers. From investigation made, I learned that the head of the Rio
Madre-de-Dios, was some distance _beyond_ the line between civilization
and the savages, the Chuncho Indians.
_September 16._—The day for my departure had arrived, but neither
volunteers nor regulars were ready. Richards was sick, and left behind
with the baggage. The party was reduced to José and an Indian boy, who
drove an old horse, with a box of instruments, a little camp furniture,
and biscuit as his load. The mules were in good order. We mounted the
hills to the left of the valley, taking the short or twelve leagues
road to Porcatambo. The wind and course were easterly, with a cold rain
falling in small drops; temperature of a spring, 60°; the air, 54°. A
bridge over the river Urabamba is constructed of brush-wood cables. Our
mules gave much trouble to get them across. José was sent some distance
below to wade the mule—"Bill"—as a phthisically fat woman declared
his heels were too dangerous to her charge—the bridge. The river flows
north, between mountains, ranging north and south, with perpendicular
strata of rock and red clay, and is a tributary of the Santa Ana. We
met droves of mules, loaded with bales of the coca leaf, on their way to
Cuzco. At daylight, in the morning, as we entered a deep gorge, the warm
east breezes, mixed with the cold mountain air, remind me of spring time
at home. A well-dressed old Indian, with scarlet vest, kindly offered
us part of his breakfast; he was taking it in the doorway of his lonely
little hut, among these rugged mountains. At 6 a. m., thermometer,
60°, and at 6 p. m., 66°. We crossed a well-built stone bridge over the
Mapacho river, which is said to flow north into the Santa Ana, but this
is doubtful. The houses of the town of Porcatambo are small, and the
population seven thousand; miserable looking, excepting the Indians,
who are full of health and life. Many of them have noble faces, and are
willing to do anything required of them, except to enter the low country
to the east. Like the creoles of the town, they have great fear of the
Chuncho tribe of Indians, who are at war with the Peruvian government.
The sub-prefect and his wife were very kind; twenty-five able-bodied
Creoles volunteered to accompany me; I accepted their services, but the
next day the arriero being alarmed, deserted; the volunteers backed out
to a man, when José suggested an opinion that volunteers did not act so
in North America; at the same time he frankly acknowledged he was afraid
of the Chunchos.
Our road lay along the river in the narrow valley, where Indians were
ploughing with oxen; peach, apple, and cherry trees in blossom. The
Indians build their houses partly of wood; they carve spoons, bowls,
plates, and baskets, beautifully, with iron chisels. At 5 p. m.,
thermometer, 68°. At Totora farm, we halted for the night, and met
a young Philadelphian, named Charles Leechler, engaged in collecting
Peruvian bark for a number of years. At first, he spoke with difficulty
in his native language, but with a true American spirit assured me I
might depend upon him as a companion. He knew parts of the country I was
directed to explore; his services were the more acceptable. He joined
me.
Turning from the river we ascend a steep ridge of mountains—the eastern
range at last. A heavy mist wafts upwards as the winds drive it against
the side of the Andes, so that our view is shortened to a few hundred
yards. We hope the curtain will rise that we may view the productions of
the tropical valley below; but the mist thickens, and the day gets dark
with heavy, heaped-up black clouds; a rain-storm follows. The grasses
are thrifty, and the top of the ridge covered with a thick sod. By
barometer we stand eleven thousand one hundred feet above the level of
the sea. I was obliged to leave my box of instruments in Porcatambo on
account of bad roads, and take barley for the mules. By law, the cargo
of a mule descending the eastern slope of the Andes is one hundred and
fifty pounds—one-half the usual load. Wild ducks are seen feeding in
the small lakes.
_September 21, 1851._—At mid-day, thermometer, 54°. Riding along the
ridge to the northward, the road suddenly turned east, and immediately
descending, we met with foliage, flowers, and fruit; among them a few
intimates—the common blackberry and whortleberry; the fruit large, but
very acid. At every step we take the growth increases in size, until,
after descending the mountain-side, we are enclosed in forest trees.
Our course in winding down being towards the centre of the earth the
compass is of no use to us. The way is lined with the bones of mules and
horses killed by falling down these precipices, which don't deserve to
be called roads. Among the limbs of the trees parrots were chattering
with monkeys; trains of large ants cross our path. This insect is never
seen on the top of the Andes. Under a rude shed by the side of the
mountain torrent, Cherimayo, we found shelter from heavy rain in large
drops. Thermometer, 61° at 5 p. m. There is no pasture for our mules;
they are confined to the path by the dense growth of bushes and vines,
and are kept near all night by fencing the track on both sides. Upon
inquiring of Leechler the number of inhabitants, he informed me a few
men were gathering Peruvian bark in the woods, but it was difficult to
tell where they were, as the cinchona trees are thinly scattered over
the country. The bark is represented as inferior near the base of the
Andes here. The best quality sells at twenty-five dollars the hundred
pounds in the market of Cuzco.
The regular rainy season will soon set in, when all the _cascarilleros_
(as the bark gatherers are called) carry the bark home. They enter about
the commencement of the dry season, or about the middle of May; roam
through the wilderness. When they meet with trees, a little house is
built for protection at night, under which the bark is kept dry. The
tree is felled by an axe, the bark stripped off, dried, made into small
bundles, and carried on the backs of men—who are generally mestizos—to
the nearest point at which a mule may be brought.
This life is one of great hardship; the workmen are often caught in
the forest without a supply of provisions. In case of fever, however,
they are well supplied with quinine; but many of them die. The climate
is very changeable; a cold, heavy rain falls, alternating with the
rays of a tropical sun. Leechler pointed out the cinchona trees; the
_cascarilleros_ distinguish them at a distance by their bright-colored
leaves; very smooth and light green, with here and there a yellowish
leaf. Standing on one side of a ravine, the men count the value of
the opposite side, or they climb to the tops of the loftiest trees and
survey the country around. The forest trees here are very valuable for
their varieties of ornamental woods. Leechler undertook also to give me
an idea of the number of beautiful and valuable tiger-skins to be found
in the bushes. I had been thinking of the water-power dashing by us for
a saw-mill; when, before going to sleep, he said, "Cover your head, sir,
at night; for the serpents here are very large." These are productions
not always enumerated in a commercial list.
[Illustration: DESCENDING THE ANDES TO THE EAST OF CUZCO.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
At 5 30, a. m., thermometer, 49°; temperature of stream, 49°. Clear
morning. The road was much obstructed by bamboo, and in a very bad
condition. We have to halt and repair the road, or cut away the
brushwood; the wet branches keep us damp; now and then a mule ahead
runs into a bee's nest, which sets all into activity. Our mules plunge
into great mud-holes, and are fretted among the roots of the trees. At
mid-day, thermometer, 74°, showing an increase of 20° since yesterday
at this time. The country is rough; the hills completely enveloped in
forest trees. The descent is still great. Arriving at the house of a
squatter, we put up for the night. Cascarilleros bring their bark here
to deposit it. The place is called Cueba. Three families live in bamboo
houses; the men and women are engaged in clearing little patches of
ground, where they plant sugar-cane, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, peppers,
plantains, oranges, potatoes, watermelons, cotton, and yuca. Probably
there may be 40 acres in all cleared. Yuca serves for bread where they
have no flour; it is a species of potato like the yam of Panama. It is
a root shaped like a beet, from a small tree, which grows to the height
of a man, with a trunk as large as his thumb, having crow-foot-shaped
leaves in a bunch at the top of the stalk. It is planted from cuttings
in rows apart, that the plant may be kept free of weeds. The yuca is
valuable and delicious, either boiled or roasted. The people are very
fond of it, and boast about the enormous size of some of them. I never
saw one more than 18 inches long, and of ten or twelve pounds weight;
generally smaller; though seriously told by persons at a distance from
their habitation that in the Montaña _one_ is enough for a mule load.
Yuca is at once liked as a vegetable by most strangers.
Clearing the land is a tiresome business; trees cut down at the end of
the wet season, when they are full of sap, burn with great difficulty.
The brushwood and thick undergrowth is troublesome, though the soil is
very productive, after being well cleared. Our mules found a blue grass,
which springs up upon exposing the soil to the sun, and keeps cattle
in good order. The people are mostly Spanish Creoles, and seem to lead
a miserable life. Including cascarilleros, there are about twenty-five
people who may be said to belong to the houses. There are no others in
the neighborhood. They are glad to see travellers to hear the news, for
they are shut out from the world. This place might be reached by a less
precipitous way, crossing the ridge nearer Porcatambo, and entering the
montaña farther south. Such is the report of the cascarilleros, who are
the best authorities with whom we are willing to consult.
At night, I was politely given the centre of the floor of one of the
houses for my bed. Three men slept on one side of me, and the very
pretty woman of the house on the other, with a sucking baby between us,
which seemed to have a most extraordinary appetite for milk, and kept a
constant snuffling and pulling like a young pup. The houses are built
with bamboo, placed about four inches apart, that air may pass. After
we all got to sleep, something made a noise near our heads, and in the
morning tracks of a large tiger indicated his desire for a baby. The men
thought he must be a monster by the foot prints; and pointed to where he
had his paw through the opening, but his arm was not long enough. They
are seldom so daring, and he must have been very hungry.
Gradually descending, we crossed the Tono river. Water, 63°; air, 74°,
at 9 30, a. m. The hills are getting smaller; the road in some places
more level, until we suddenly come to a cleared pampa, covered with a
rich pasture, on which are grazing a drove of mules. Four houses are
built close to one another, and near them a large patch of pine-apples.
One Indian woman was at home; she was Quichua. We afterwards arrived at
San Miguel farm, where a number of houses are built in a hollow square,
with a little wooden church, and fine orange trees in the centre, under
the shade of which I was embraced by Padre Julian Bovo de Revello, a
Franciscan missionary, honorary member of the Agricultural Society in
Santiago de Chili.
[Illustration: COCA PLANTATION, Peru.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
_Monday, September 22._—At 3 30, thermometer, 81°. We are now on
the eastern frontier settlement, where one hundred men are engaged
cultivating the coca plant. The seed is planted in rows like maize.
In two years the bush, five or six feet high, is full grown, bearing
bright green leaves, two inches long, with white blossoms, and scarlet
berries. The women and boys are now gathering the ripe leaves, while
the men are clearing the fields of weeds. The gathering takes place
three times a year, in cotton bags. The leaf is spread out in the sun
on mats and dried. In wet weather they are spread under cover, and kept
perfectly dry, otherwise the quality is injured, and the market price
very much reduced. The bushes produce from forty to seventy years, when
a new planting becomes necessary. The leaves are put up in cotton cloth
bales of seventy-five pounds each, and sent to Cuzco, where it sells for
fifteen dollars per bale. The Indians masticate the leaf, and sometimes
drink it as tea. There is a constant demand for it. Those who work in
the mines are inveterate chewers. On long journeys, or while undergoing
fatigue of any kind, it supplies the place of the tobacco leaf. It has
a soothing effect. Slacked lime or ashes from certain roots are used by
some of the old chewers to give it a finer flavor. The plant can only
be raised in a moist climate. It is never found in the deep valleys of
the Andes. It offers the most important inland trade in the department
of Cuzco, and is the inducement for settlers to venture to the base
of the Andes. Though the tropical productions can be raised, they are
seldom cultivated to great extent. Coffee, sugar-cane, cotton, rice,
chocolate, tobacco, limes, and lemons, are to be had. The padre pays
attention to experimental farming and cattle raising; he has a little
drove, a few cows brought from the tops of the Andes; also ducks,
pigeons, and chickens, which he feeds upon corn cultivated by his own
hands. His upland rice is fine, without flooding. The padre is a perfect
representative of Robinson Crusoe; though he has no goats, he has four
dogs. An old Santa Cruz soldier acts as his man Friday. In his little
hut he has a few books and two old hats. He wears one when he works on
his farm, the other an old hen lays an egg in every day. He seems to be
happy, but said he wanted very much to go home to Italy, by the way of
the Rio Madre-de-Dios and the Amazon, for he thought if he could find
a road to the Atlantic by which his countrymen might come up, he would
make a fortune.
I had arrived at the _end_ of the road for mules. The only way to
shorten the distance between us and the Atlantic was to dismount and cut
a way through the forest on foot. The undergrowth is so thick, that it
is difficult to see where the tigers and other wild animals get through.
José was left in charge of the mules. With a barometer and poncho slung
to my back, revolver in belt, long knife in hand, I pushed through the
woods, accompanied by the padre, Leechler, and four Indians; the padre
whistled up his dogs. After a most difficult struggle, twelve hours
brought us to the bank of the Cosnipata river, in the territory of the
Chuncho savages. The stream is very swift, with a rocky bed, forty yards
wide; the water of greenish color. This stream takes its rise to the
south, in the mountains of Carabaya, where the people are washing for
gold. The day's march was through a level country, with the exception
of two small hills. Leechler shot two wild turkeys, and a fine fish,
which helped out boiled rice and parched corn for supper. We had been
very much bitten by ants and stung by bees. The right arms were tired
of cutting a way with the machetes. According to our reckoning, we have
travelled nine miles; a bush house was constructed; our beds, the bare
ground; the dogs lay by us; they had ranged about in all directions
during the day, and were well tired. The padre called one of them
_Paititi_, after a large town of the Chunchos, in the wilderness to
the northeast of us; another _Alerto_, (vigilant;) a third _Cabezon_,
(big head;) and the fourth, _Valedor_, (protector.) Paititi was a
middle-sized, short-tailed, chocolate-colored dog, the bravest and most
active. The padre kindly presented him to me. One of the Indians was
taken sick; I administered three anti-bilious pills, which cured him
after a sleep. Cutting enough balsa wood early in the morning, the logs
were fastened together, and the first North American-built raft launched
upon this tributary of the Amazon. I embarked with Leechler and one old
Indian for the opposite shore. There were falls above and below us; the
current swift; we poled part of the way, but soon found the river too
deep for that process. We landed on a rocky little island, after being
nearly carried over the falls; Leechler lost the balsa on his return
for the padre; the current was too swift for him, and he had to swim
for life, while our bark was swiftly carried down stream, and wrecked
against the rocks. At 1 p. m., thermometer in the sun, 100°; temperature
of the river water, 70°. In the evening, Leechler had been working
with the padre and the Indians, cutting more timber. He swam over, and
spent the night on the island with me, in preference to sleeping in the
woods; we lay down upon the rocks, under a heavy rain, with loud claps
of thunder, which echoed up the Andes. At midnight, the old Indian
called us from our bed of water; the river was rising; the night was
dark, and rain poured down. A match was lit, when it was discovered we
could not escape; we saw the rushing waters between us and the shore;
a sudden rise of three feet would carry us off. Leechler assured me we
could not gain the shore by swimming. The old Indian said "I was a bad
man for bringing him there, when he could not swim." A mark was placed
by the edge of the water, and we seated ourselves very uncomfortably
to await our fate. The roaring of the waters was terrible. Leechler
looking at the mark, finds our island very much reduced in size by the
flood. The old Indian hears the dogs bark, and we think the Chunchos
are attacking the padre on the main land; I blamed myself for bringing
these people so far. Should the stream continue to rise at its present
rate, we must be lost; suddenly, the old Indian looking up, turned to me
with brightening eyes, pointed to the southeast, and said in Quichua,
"day-break." This was great relief, particularly as I saw the Indian
smile; it was expressive, natural, and knowing. As the day-light came,
the storm cleared off, and we survey our prison. The waters had turned
muddy, the drift-wood came dancing by us, great logs rolled over as they
floated down; the wild Toucan, with its large beak, screamed as it flew
over us to its nest; the fish seemed to rejoice at the flood, jumping
up in the air as though making signs for the river to rise; while the
good old padre, dressed in his snuff-colored robes, motioned to us the
waters were subsiding. The waves made by the rapid motion of the water
in mid-channel were quite as high as our heads, and the island much
reduced in size. The water runs off very soon after the storm passes
away, and we gained the opposite mainland. Leechler lost a second balsa
in trying to cross the stream to the island again for the Indian, and
another night was spent with the party divided. Our provisions were
getting short. A small bamboo balsa was now constructed, the barometer,
pistols, and clothing put upon it. My provisions were left with the old
Indian, and he was told to remain there until we returned. He said, "if
he was left alone, the Chunchos would murder him, or the tigers would
devour him at night; if we left him he would jump into the river;" but
he was again directed to remain where he was while we sought help, to
take care of his provisions, and he would soon be with his friends. He
told Leechler he would obey, but "he must first bring over his coca,"
which was on the opposite side.
With Leechler on one side of the bamboo raft and I on the other, we
jumped into the stream, and after hard work, swimming, we gained the
padre in time to save our raft from passing over the falls. In the
evening we were at San Miguel farm, after three days' hard work, and
two nights without sleep. Resting ourselves we found great difficulty
in getting persons to go with us after the old Indian. The padre made
a spirited speech to them, which had the desired effect. In the evening
we encamped at the junction of the _Tono_ and _Cosnipata_ rivers. To my
great joy, the old Indian came down opposite to us, after being called
by Leechler. In the morning early, we felled a tree across the _Tono_,
where it cuts through a mass of rocks, and descending along the banks of
that stream for some distance, we came to a smooth place in the river.
Another raft was built which rescued the old Indian, but was also lost,
and we saved the men by felling a large tree on the rocks to which they
clung. The old Indian had eaten _all_ he had the night we left him, and
was now very hungry; he was delighted to get his coca, and handed me the
cigars I gave him to smoke. He amused the other Indians, telling them
how the white man had treated him. After following the _Tono_ all day,
we came to the river _Piñipiñi_, a stream as large as the _Tono_, with
an average width of forty yards. I saw at once we could get no further,
but it was a satisfaction to behold these two rivers, the _Tono_ and
_Piñipiñi_, join and form the head of the river called by the Quichua
Indians _Amaru Mayu_, (serpent-river,) which Padre Revello had not long
since named "Rio Madre-de-Dios," for the reason the Chunchos had killed
a number of Creoles and Quichua Indians, and after destroying their
little church, had thrown the catholic image into a tributary stream,
whence it had floated down, and was found on a rock in the centre of
Amaru-Mayu.
This stream is very swift, about seventy yards wide, and _not_ navigable
at the point I saw it, which is in latitude 12° 32´ south, longitude
70° 26´ west of Greenwich, and by barometrical measurement 1,377 feet
above the Pacific ocean; showing a descent from the first flower on
the side of the ridge in sight of 9,723 feet; small hills intercept
our view of the river after it turns. Leechler informs me that the
cascarilleros, from prominent places on this side of the Andes, have
seen Indians crossing the "Madre-de-Dios" in canoes, among the islands,
a short distance below us; and that the river is very winding in its
course through a level country. The padre has seen a stream called
"_Marcapata_," to the west of us, flowing northwest, which probably
falls into the Madre-de-Dios below.
The country is a beautiful one; well watered, and from its general
appearance adapted for cultivation, though wild and unpopulated as
far as we have seen, except by monkeys of different species, who are
very busy in the evening cutting into the bamboo stalks for the water
therein, which they take as _their_ tea.
We feel great anxiety to visit the island in a Chuncho canoe; to make
friends under the shade of a plantain orchard; to contract at the door
of these Indians for a passage to the Amazon, and go home by this route.
Besides, I wished to see the effect produced on these wild men by a
present, from the padre, of angels, pictures drawn from a long tin box
under his arm; but it is impracticable, and we lay down by the head of
the Madre-de-Dios, to sleep till morning, with thirty-eight leagues by
the road to travel back to Cuzco.
[Illustration: RIO MADRE DE DIOS.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]
The ants troubled us. Before the break of day, we all rose suddenly from
our sandy bed; the dogs skulking in with tails between their legs; all
more or less uncomfortably aroused by the growling of two large tigers
on the opposite side of the Piñipiñi. A light breeze was passing from
us to them; they snuffed a breakfast, while the Indians silently hung
their heads. I was looking upon the water, expecting to see them plunge
in and swim towards us. Leechler examined my double-barrelled gun, and
laughingly called out in English, "thank you kindly, the rains on the
mountains during the night have flooded the Piñipiñi, and we, therefore,
cannot breakfast together this morning."
After _our_ breakfast of boiled rice, we turned, and on our way saw the
tracks of five Chunchos on the sands. Their feet are very small, and
they walk with toes much turned in. They hunt in small parties of from
five to seven, always accompanied by a woman, who carries their fish
and game, cooks and does all the hard work, while they stroll along
with their bows and arrows. They are very bitter against the Peruvians,
and give them no quarters; waylay them on the roads to Porcotambo,
and turn up their noses at all offers of friendship. We are on their
hunting grounds. Here they find large fish, wild turkeys, and a species
of pheasant, the size of guinea fowls. It is said they worship brave
animals and reptiles, such as tigers and poisonous snakes; are generally
smaller men and women than the Indians on the Andes. The inner corners
of their eyes are turned down; they walk with their heads hanging; the
expression of face is morose, without the least sign of a smile. Such
are the reports of the men with me.
We halted at Chapemayo, which joins San Miguel, to see the old Indian
safely in the hands of his wife, who had been told by the Indians,
when we returned without him, that he was murdered by the Chunchos. The
meeting was a very modest one.
José was delighted; the old man had expressed great fears that he would
never see us again. The mules were in good pasture, but very much bitten
by vampire bats, which strike them at night in the skin of the neck,
and they bleed so much as to weaken them. The padre was very sad at the
result of our reconnoissance. He was kind enough to give me an extract
from a meteorological table he is in the habit of keeping. Three crops
of corn may be raised here in one year, yet the people do not descend
the Andes to settle in this productive country.
The farmer labors under great disadvantage. He never leaves his house
in the morning to cultivate the field without fire-arms. They are at the
expense of keeping a watch constantly stationed, lest they be surprised
by the Chunchos. People are afraid to pass from farm to farm alone. Some
have been murdered; others died from sickness brought on by fatigue, a
hot sun by day, and loss of sleep at night. The coca planter generally
leaves his wife and children behind him in Porcotambo when he enters
upon his ordinary duties on this montaña.
I am told there are some cleared lands a short distance to the east of
these four farms which have been abandoned, or rather nearly all were
murdered by the Chunchos some years ago, and others have not ventured
there since.
Upon gaining the top of the Andes, we found the barometer tube had
been broken on the way. A hole was cut in the top of our coffee pot,
large enough to insert a thermometer, and the height of the mountains
determined by boiling water.
The day is pleasant, and we take our last blow and rest; the clouds
lift, and while seated on the smooth top of a peak of the Andes, we
see afar off to the east the magnificent view we have been anxiously
expecting. The rich lowlands are looked down upon from a height of over
nine thousand feet. It is like looking upon the ocean; those regular
ridges trending northwest and southeast, decreasing in height as they
increase in distance, seem like the waves of the sea rolling towards
the mountains. The whole surface is covered with a beautiful growth
of forest trees, whose foliage appears of a deep-blue color. Looking
at the compass, following the direction of the northeast point, we
see interruptions in the ridges, where the Madre-de-Dios cuts her
way through the rollers towards the Atlantic ocean, striking them at
right-angles. Upon looking at our map on the east, the river Beni flows
in an easterly direction into the Madeira; and again on the west, as
our previous remarks go to show, the Santa Ana empties into the Ucayali.
We know that a great river pours from its four mouths a large quantity
of water into the Amazon in latitude 4° south, and longitude 61° west,
where it is called the river Purus. The geographical position of the
Madre-de-Dios forces us to believe it to be the same as the Purus. This
is a matter of importance. If it is navigable for steamboats to where
we now see, it forms the natural highway to South Peru. All the silver
and gold of Peru are not to compare with the undeveloped commercial
resources of that beautiful garden. The wealth, strength, and greatness
of a nation depends upon a well-cultivated and productive soil and
people, aided by commerce and manufactures. Veins of gold or silver run
out; without other industry, poverty follows, particularly where the
people have been principally schooled in poetry and Latin grammar, as
found to be the case on some parts of our route.
Leechler tells me he has not heard his own language spoken for ten
years; that he would like much to go with me; "but," said he, "I have a
wife and two fine boys in Porcotambo." He has been of so much service
and stood by me in my troubles, that I feel inclined to sit still and
talk with him in plain English. The cascarilleros have seen islands
in the bed of the Madre-de-Dios. During the rainy season the mountain
torrents wash away the soil about the roots of large trees; a tree falls
into the stream, and is carried away by the waters; that tree is borne
rapidly down until it reaches the level country, where the current of
the larger river runs slow; there it turns up-side down, the branches
sink, and the roots stick out of the water; the branches evidently hold
to the bottom of the river, while earth and sand are heaped upon them;
drift-wood and vegetable matter catch in the roots or lodge against
the trunk. This is work by the laws of the Almighty. A little island
is thus built; it grows larger and larger every year; as it increases
in size, in the middle of the river, it occupies space which before was
covered with water. The same body of water must pass; as it does so, it
cuts a deeper channel, while it also caves away the banks, whose earth
and growth are carried farther down by the freshets. One channel grows
larger than the other; the smaller one probably fills up, and then our
island is lost by its attachment to the main land. Should the river be
large enough to float a vessel, and there be no falls between it and the
sea, that island is the head of navigation. Suppose it is in latitude
12° south, longitude 70° west, of Greenwich, the distance from the
island to the mouth of the river Purus is 735 miles; course N. E. ½ E.
from the mouth of the Purus down the Amazon to the sea, a straight line
is 806 miles; course E. N. E. ¾ E. 735 + 806 = 1541, which distance a
steamer can run in six days. Triple this time for turnings and stoppages
for fuel, we have eighteen days then from the mouth of the Amazon up to
this island.
A ship, loaded with woollen and cotton goods, and with hardware ploughs,
and farming utensils—of which there are none, except some miserable old
_muskets_—with corn, rice, buckwheat, hemp, tobacco, all kinds of flower
and garden seeds, plants, vines, and shoes, would require twenty-five
days to the mouth of the Amazon, eighteen days to the island, and ten
days to Cuzco: in all 53 days. On the route travelled at the present
day, by Cape Horn to Yslay, on the Pacific—the nearest seaport to
Cuzco—the passage would occupy 105 days, and 15 days from there to
Cuzco: in all 120 days. _Time_ with merchants is money.
But the great river must be explored from its mouth up. When we swam
across the Cosnipata, with our bamboo balsa, I lost my straw hat in the
middle of the stream. Should it be found in the mouth of the Purus,
I shall hereafter maintain that _it_ is fully entitled to the honor
of having decided that the Cosnipata is a tributary of the Purus.
The India-rubber trade is increasing every year. It is now the most
important export from the Amazon, and is destined to be of much greater
value. Few trees are found near us.
The mules being well rested and fed on the mountain grasses, we overtook
a red-haired, thin, sallow-complexioned man, slowly walking after an
old horse, loaded with Peruvian bark. This was a cascarillero returning
from the labors of the season in the forest. He had been sick, and
went homeward with a slim reward. He presented a striking contrast to
his wife, who met him with the horse. She was a smiling negress, very
black, with beautifully-white teeth, who had been a slave, but bought
her freedom when her former master died. He left her money, which the
cascarillero married and spent for her.
We rode into Porcotambo late by moonlight. An Indian girl took me into
the sub-prefect's room, where he and his wife were in bed. I drew back
surprised, but not in time to escape being seen. He and his lady called
out to come in. I apologized through the door; this was not considered
necessary; they both insisted upon my entering. As they sat up in bed,
I, in a seat close by, answered their many questions, while the servants
prepared supper and bed for me in another room. The amount of fancy-work
about a lady's nightcap was becoming to dark hair and eyes. Women, I
find, are much interested in steamboat navigation and the productions
of other countries. This town is remarkable for beautiful señoras.
At the end of the sixth day, from the head of the Madre-de-Dios, we
arrived in Cuzco, after an absence of twenty-one days. Richards was
still much reduced, but gaining health. The prefect expressed his
regrets at not being authorized to send troops with me, and asked the
favor of a written account of my visit to the east, in behalf of the
Peruvian government.