Demarara, March 9, 1797.
You will consider it as an additional smile bestowed upon me by fortune,
when I tell you that I have been invited to another river excursion, and
again had an opportunity of becoming a traveller in the wild woods, and
uncultivated regions of this coast.
This journey was, in some of its features, unlike the former. It was
made with different persons, and fitted out with more regard to comfort;
but the other was more completely a marooning enterprise, and perhaps
exhibited, in stronger lineaments, the characters and circumstances
which presented themselves to our observation.
In our expedition up the river Berbische, we were all strangers,
trespassing upon the bounty of those we met; and, without any
acquaintance or introduction, depending upon the hospitality of persons
wholly unknown to us, for the means of prosecuting our journey: whilst
in the excursion up the river Demarara all the party, except myself,
were colonists, who were accustomed to the country, acquainted with
places and persons, and provided with stores, and other accommodations
for the occasion.
Our reception by the planters upon the borders of the rivers was, in
both cases, so liberal, that it might be difficult to mark a
distinction: perhaps I might say that in the one instance we were
cordially hailed as expected friends—in the other generously greeted as
welcome strangers. That it should have fallen to my lot to have gone up
both the rivers, is matter of singular gratification to me; for they
were not merely journeys of idle curiosity: a strong interest attached
to them, both regarding our species, and the face of the globe we
inhabit; and the impression they have made upon my mind will be
remembered with pleasure, to the end of my days.
The leading objects were to procure some roots and cuttings of plants
and trees, principally of the wild fruits of the forest, for the purpose
of raising them upon the estates of my fellow-travellers near the coast;
and to explore the river, as far as the falls, which is the utmost
extent we could reach in a boat.
I was only an appendage—a mere stranger among the group. Every thing was
planned and provided by my companions, and I was invited to join them,
only from the very liberal sentiment that it might afford me pleasure.
The gentlemen, to whom I am indebted for so handsome a compliment, were
Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. Fraser, Mr. L. Cuming, and Mynheer Heyliger.
We loitered on the way, like well-accommodated travellers, and made it a
tour of eleven days, having taken our departure from Stabroek, at noon
on the 25th of February, and returned on the evening of the 7th of
March. No party, equally numerous, had been known to pass to so great a
distance from the coast, although individuals had, occasionally,
journeyed as far as, or even beyond the falls of the river.
We had no means of marking the distance, except by the Dutch method of
making it synonymous with time: according to which, I might say that
from Stabroek to the Falls is thirty-six _hours_; or, from the mouth of
the river, to the part where it ceases to be navigable, nearly
thirty-six hours and a half. But in this I cannot profess even an
approach to the correctness of Dutch measurement, which gives, with
tolerable accuracy, four miles to the hour; for, although we were
thirty-six hours upon the water, between the town and the falls, I dare
not venture to calculate the distance at four times thirty-six miles; as
the hour might be sometimes eight or ten miles, and sometimes not a
third so many, according as the breeze, the tide, or the current,
chanced to aid or impede our progress; or, as feelings of strength, or
fatigue, were indicated on the part of the slaves. If I should fix the
average at four miles an hour, agreeably to the Dutch calculation, the
distance, thus given, would still be very incorrect, as we were
prevented from pursuing the direct course of the river, by our frequent
calls at the different plantations _en route_.
During the morning, previous to our departure, I felt very unwell, with
symptoms of fever, which being increased by heat, and the hurry of
preparation, I was so ill at the time of going into the boat, that
nothing but the most ardent desire not to forego the excursion could
have induced me to have ventured from home: I have since felt, more
sensibly than I did at the moment, how extremely perilous it was to
embark upon such an undertaking, in this climate, with the sensations I
then experienced; but, at that instant, nothing short of actual
confinement could have detained me. Happily the threatening indications
subsided, and, recovering as we proceeded, I became quite well upon the
journey.
We made our first call at an estate named “Golden Tent,” belonging to
Mynheer Meertens, where we were received in a very friendly manner, by
Mr. Reid, the resident manager, who keeps the house and premises in such
high order, that the general neatness of the home, together with the
square grass-plats before the door, and other decorations around the
building, give it more the air of an European dwelling, than any place I
had seen in the colonies.
We reached a plantation called Hermitage in time for dinner, and there
took up our abode for the night, being most liberally welcomed by Mr.
Selles, who, with great hospitality, devoted the best supply of his
house and table to our accommodation.
During the next day’s journey we passed several islands, lying in the
course of the river, but, from being flat and covered with wood, they
offered nothing more novel or interesting, than the mere break they
occasioned in the naked view of the stream. The first is called the Land
of Canaan: the second, Fort Island, being the spot where a fort was
originally erected, and a military post established for the defence of
the colony; which was then settled higher up the water, than it is at
present: the next is simply named the Third Island. At the entrance of a
creek called Kamonuy, we found a fourth, which was the last we met with
in our route. It was about two o’clock in the afternoon when we reached
the Kamonuy creek; upon entering which we perceived a striking change of
scenery. Instead of moving upon a bold and spacious river, studded with
islands, we were now conducted into a confined channel of deep black
water, leading into the heavy gloom of the forest, and overhung with
trees, whose dark foliage, meeting from the opposite banks, formed an
umbrageous canopy, which, even at mid-day, enveloped us, as it were, in
the still shades of night.
Having yet a great distance to make before we could arrive at our next
place of rest, and fearing lest, as the evening advanced, we might
mistake any of the turnings of our channel, and be led into the
uninhabited depths of the forest, we took our dinners in the creek,
without stopping the boat, and, in order to avoid every delay, rested
the negroes by turns, during the time of supplying them with the
necessary support of their toil.
In the bed of this dark and narrow stream were many broken stumps of
trees, which endangered the bottom of our boat; but we escaped with only
slightly rubbing against some of them as we passed.
From the Kamonuy we were led into the Woratilla creek, which was still
narrower and darker than the former; and out of the Woratilla, we turned
into another creek, called Mabeira, which was so contracted as totally
to prevent the negroes from rowing: they were, therefore, obliged to
stand up in the boat, and drive it forward by pushing with the ends of
their oars against the banks at the sides. Soon after entering the third
creek we were conducted into a wide and open savanna, at the remotest
end of which we could just discern the lonely home of Mr. Edmonstone,
whither we were bound, and at which it seemed we might quickly arrive. A
small cannon was accordingly fired from the boat to announce our
approach. But before we came near to the house, the windings of the
creek took us back into the deep shades; and after proceeding in the
dark for some time, we again found ourselves in the savanna, and were as
before deluded by a seemingly rapid advance to the house; but again, and
again, the numerous bendings of the channel reconducted us into the dark
bosom of the forest.
It was fortunate that we had reached the entrance of this very narrow
stream before the night set in, or we might have passed the turning, and
have been carried into the woods, widely astray from our course: for
during the time of our slow moving along the Mabeira creek, we were
overtaken by the most impenetrable darkness; in the midst of which an
accident occurred, which we feared might prove fatal to one of our
slaves, who from not being able to see the bank, missed the land with
his oar, and fell overboard. Happily, from the habits of the negroes,
they are in a manner amphibious, and this man had no sooner reached the
bottom, than he rose again to the surface, and swimming after us,
quickly climbed into the boat; when, on being asked if the water was
deep, he replied in the true negro dialect, “_Deep like a hell, Massa!_”
then shaking his skin, resumed his toil as if nothing had happened.
Before we had recovered from the anxiety caused by this accident, we
were again brought into the savanna, when we perceived the lights of the
house to be very near to us. The cup was now at our lips, but we were
still to be tantalized, and were again carried into the deep gloom of
the woods, where we continued to pursue the tedious windings of the
creek, until the open savanna had grown nearly as dark as the close
shades of the forest, and we could scarcely perceive Mr. Edmonstone,
when at length, he hailed us, at the front of his dwelling.
Our journey had not been enlivened with much of variety, even in the
course of the river; and from the time of our entering the creeks, we
were shut in sombre solitude. In the forest a death-like stillness
prevailed. The scene was cheerless as confined: o’ercast with solemn
darkness, the woods seemed uninhabited, and scarcely did a bird or an
insect chirp a note to disturb the silent shades.
From the landing-place up to the house we ascended by a rising path,
which by our feet we distinguished as a peculiarity, having so long been
treading a flat soil interrupted only by dykes and ditches. A short time
after our arrival the table was spread with ham, pepper-pot, laba, and
other dishes, of which our party partook with travellers’ appetite. Soon
afterwards we retired to rest, my fellow-travellers in their
hammocks,—myself upon a mattress.