HARPOONING A RIVER MONSTER
The man came, as promised, and carried the baggage from the inn to the
boat. David had never lost sight of the fact that his belongings must be
kept at the minimum; but he had added to them constantly--the hammock
and net, for instance, and while all the articles were necessary ones,
they increased the sum total until they now filled a large suit case and
a bag.
He followed the sailor as soon as he could settle his account and mail a
few letters he had written the night before.
It was still early in the morning. The batalao, which bore the name
Elisa Ana in black letters on both sides, was scheduled to start before
noon. But there were innumerable things to be attended to at the last
minute. Don Marco made several trips into the city for things he had
forgotten. Then the sailors went for personal supplies of matches and
tobacco, which they might have purchased long before. And when, at three
in the afternoon, everything was apparently in readiness, it was
discovered that one of the men was missing. Two of the others were sent
to find him but the trio did not show up until six o’clock. The captain
was furious and berated them soundly, for now it was too late to start
that day, but they would get under way very early the following morning.
They were all required to remain aboard that night. David swung his
hammock in a corner indicated by Don Marco and rigged his net over it.
The heat was stifling and, worse still, the hammock was most
uncomfortable; it sagged low in the middle while the ends were up high,
so that David had to lie on his back with his body bent like a bow. He
tossed about for a while and finally decided that if he was to secure
any sleep that night it would have to be elsewhere than in the hammock,
so he clambered out and stretched himself on the bare boards of the
little forward deck.
Don Marco had observed this action and asked the reason for it.
“I can’t sleep all doubled up in the hammock,” David explained. “The
ends must be too close together, because my head and feet are way up in
the air.”
“You don’t know how to use it,” the captain said with a laugh. “I will
show you. Look! You have to lie crosswise, not in a straight line with
the hammock.”
David tried it, lying diagonally with his head in the upper right-hand
corner and his feet in the lower left-hand corner. The effect was
magical. The hammock straightened out flat and he was very comfortable.
The crew was active early the next morning--long before daylight broke
over the river. The cook had kindled a fire on a box of sand in the bow
while the others squatted around him watching, and conversing in loud
voices. When the water was bubbling he produced a container that looked
like a very large pipe and filled it with leaves out of a bag.
David, looking on, thought it was some kind of a pipe and tobacco, and
was therefore surprised to see the man pour the steaming water into it.
Then a short stem was inserted in the top opening and the cook handed it
to the captain, who proceeded to draw up the liquor through the tube.
When he had drunk all of it the cook refilled the bowl with water and
brought it over to David.
“What is it?” the latter asked. “Coffee?”
“No! _Yerba maté_, or Brazilian tea. It is very good. Try it.”
David did not like the idea of drinking through the tube that had
already been used, but did not want to appear churlish, so took a sip.
The concoction tasted bitter and astringent. He handed back the
_bombilla_, for that was the name of the outfit. Don Marco and the men
laughed.
“He does not like our drink,” they said, “but he will get used to it. It
is very delicious and a good medicine, too, but one has to learn to
drink it.”
The cook prepared coffee for David while the rest of the party continued
to fill the bombilla with hot water and to pass it around from one to
the other until each had had it at least half a dozen times.
Occasionally it was recharged with fresh leaves, but all drank through
the same tube.
Later in the day Don Marco told David a good deal about yerba maté,
which seemed to be a kind of national beverage in Brazil and some of
the neighboring countries, liked by rich and poor and almost universally
taken from a common container such as he had seen that morning.
The plant from which the leaves are taken is a species of South American
holly growing abundantly in parts of Brazil, the Argentine and Paraguay,
and remaining green the year round. They are gathered while small, when
they are of a light green color, by cutting the branches from the plant
and heaping them in piles to dry, after which they are shaken over a
cloth to catch them as they fall from the withered stems.
This tea had been the principal beverage of the Guaraní Indians when the
country was first settled, and the invaders found it so excellent that
they followed the custom of the aborigines in drinking it.
David became so interested in yerba maté after learning these facts that
he bought an outfit of the trader for his personal use and soon learned
to drink the native tea in preference to coffee.
The morning cup being over, the sailors brought in the rope hawser and
took up the long-handled oars. Soon they had rowed the craft far out
into the river, where the current was strongest, for they were now
heading down the Rio Negro to its junction with the upper Amazon. A sail
was hoisted and as there was a brisk wind they travelled at a rapid rate
and reached the Amazon in less than two hours’ time.
David now had ample time to examine the boat on which he had been
accepted as a fellow voyager. It was large, very large, in fact, for
such a craft, being fifty feet long and twelve feet wide, but of very
shallow draft. The bottom and sides were made of thick boards spiked to
heavy, hand-hewn timbers. There was a small deck forward and another
aft, the spaces below being used for storage, and over each was a small,
rounded shelter of palm leaves.
Along each side was a runway of boards like a narrow outrigger on which
the men walked when poling the boat through shallow water.
In the center was a board structure which made the batalao look like a
long houseboat. This was the store and was filled with provisions and
merchandise placed on shelves and in heaps on the floor. Almost
everything of value to the dwellers in the interior was carried,
including tinned foods, rice, beans, dried fish, oil, cloth, fish-hooks,
knives and matches. Also tobacco, maté, and quantities of the staple
food along the Amazon--farinha.
The men next attracted David’s attention. Although he had seen most of
them during the previous days he had not had the opportunity to study
them closely. There were twenty; strong, sun-burnt, good-natured and
ragged, but not very energetic. However, when Don Marco shouted an order
it was quickly carried out. They either respected or feared him--it was
impossible to tell which.
As the boat, aided by the current, sped along, the sailors busied
themselves tidying up things in general, and looking to the
paraphernalia they would need during the journey up-stream, which would
begin shortly.
The river was but slightly ruffled, the dark-colored water speeding
along in a broad belt between high, rolling banks covered with dense
forest.
There were many other craft on the river, including a tramp freighter
from some foreign port, launches, and a number of huge dugout canoes
laden with bananas, nuts and other produce on its way to the city
markets.
The crews always called to one another if the outfits passed within
hailing distance, each asking as many questions as possible as to
destination, business and other things, before conversation was checked
by the growing distance between them.
As they neared the junction of the two streams the course of the boat
was altered, for after entering the larger river they would journey
up-stream; they would be compelled to hug closely the forested bank
where the current was slack, if there were no wind.
The vista of the two rivers, joining their waters to form a mightier
stream visible below and appearing like a ruffled sea, was majestic.
Also, it was terrific in its very grandeur. The dark water of the Rio
Negro did not at once mingle with or become absorbed by the muddy flood
of the Solimoes, but the two ran side by side a distance of many miles,
the sharp distinguishing line clearly visible, before merging their
identities.
The scene was a wild and dismal one and David was impressed with his own
littleness and that of those about him. The contrast had not seemed so
great from the high deck of the steamer when he came up the river; but
in the comparatively frail shell of the batalao it was different. The
craft seemed so small, so helpless on the broad, billowy expanse of
hurrying water. A rowboat in mid-ocean would not seem more out of place.
The sailors, apparently, were well versed in the ways of navigating the
great rivers. They handled the sails and the rudder in a skilful manner
and were soon tacking up-stream with a cross wind. Progress was now more
slow, and when, an hour later, the wind failed so that the sails hung
limply in the rigging, they were furled and made fast.
The water near the bank was shallow--not over four feet deep and
generally a good deal less. Long poles were brought out; they had
cross-pieces padded with cloth on one end and looked like tall crutches.
Each man took one and then the crew was divided into two sections, one
of which went to each outrigger board along the sides. The sharp ends of
the poles were thrust to the sandy bottom while the men braced their
shoulders against the padded ends and then pushed, running back along
the boards in an even line. This propelled the boat along fairly
rapidly, but it was hard work.
The sailors pushed the heavy craft forward with the poles throughout the
remainder of the day, stopping only at noon for their ration of farinha
and an hour’s rest.
Towards late afternoon they reached a section of the river flanked by
wide marshes. Great masses of vegetation floated on the surface of the
stream, such as wild lettuce, water hyacinths with inflated stems and
blue flowers in spikes, lilies, and a host of other plants. The giant
_Victoria Regia_ margined the sheets of varied green in immense clumps
and ribbons. Each leaf of this queen of water lilies was from six to
eight feet in diameter, with upturned edges so that they resembled a
cake-tin--but for their enormous size. Heavy veins and midribs supported
the leaves with their sturdy framework; they were covered with long
spines and thus served not only to support but also to protect the
tender green webbing of the leaves that stretched between them, as if to
discourage any familiarity with a member of a royal family. The flowers
bobbing here and there among the massive foliage were not larger than a
dinner plate and of a bluish color. Although both leaves and blossoms
rested lightly on the surface of the water, they were securely anchored
in place with thick, cable-like stems, and roots that penetrated the
murky bottom a distance of many feet.
Before long they reached a small creek that served as an outlet for some
lagoon hidden beyond the forest walls. As they entered the heretofore
quiet water it was churned into a frenzy by long, dark forms that darted
out of the narrow opening and made for the river. They passed on each
side of the batalao, cutting the surface with broad backs and leaving a
perceptible swell in their wake.
“What are they, sharks?” David asked in surprise.
“No!” Don Marco said. “They are called pirarucú and are the great cod of
the Amazon.”
“But what monsters! I had no idea there were such large fish in any
river. They looked longer than a man and must weigh a hundred pounds.”
“Ha! They were twice as big as a man and would weigh five or six hundred
pounds each. You shall see for yourself, if you stay long enough,” the
captain said with a chuckle. “The river is full of them. Perhaps we may
get one now, for this is a good place to fish. We will anchor the boat
and try, anyway. The fish--many kinds--go up into the lagoon to feed, so
they have to pass through this little channel both going and coming
back. The pirarucú were just about to enter, but we frightened them, so
they rushed back into the open water.”
“Do you think they will come back?” David asked eagerly.
“Yes, if we keep still.”
“I wish I could catch one; but nobody would believe me if I did--and
told about it when I got back home.” Then brightening, “There is a
camera in my suitcase. I could take a picture of it; that would fix
them.”
“You would have to catch it first,” Don Marco reminded him.
“Let me have a hook and line. I will try it anyway.”
“Very good! I will give you a hook and line, so you can fish for pacú
with the rest of us. The pirarucú is so large you must use a harpoon to
get it. I will keep one handy; perhaps we shall have good luck. But in
the meantime we will catch pacú, because they are a sure thing.”
They had anchored where the channel was narrowest. The men unwound the
lines and baited the hooks with plump grains of maize that had been
soaked until soft. Scarcely had the ripples made by the plunges of the
heavy sinkers died down when the fish began to bite.
They struck with a powerful rush and dragged the line through the water
with a burst of speed that was surprising. The men swung the poles
upward to hook the fish securely and then hauled in the lines with their
hands. Soon the silvery fish, nearly two feet long and very broad, were
pulled aboard in numbers and thrown on the decks.
David was so absorbed in watching the others that he almost forgot his
own line. He felt a sudden tug and recovered just in time to prevent the
loss of his pole. He followed the example of the others and soon landed
the glistening pacú. Catching fish in this manner was not much of a
sporting proposition, but it was not without its thrill of excitement.
The sharp eyes of Don Marco caught a slight ripple in the water ten
yards to their rear. At his word of warning the men stopped talking and
quietly pulled in their lines.
The pirarucú were returning to their feeding-grounds. Slowly they came,
and cautiously, swimming just beneath the surface and looking like
shadows. The school was a large one, for the water seemed alive with
the giant fish. The captain had noiselessly come to David’s side and
placed a short iron harpoon in his hand.
“Throw it just as you would a stick and aim about a foot ahead of the
fish,” he said.
A few yards from the boat the foremost of the school stopped. David
could clearly distinguish the trim outlines of the broad, dark backs,
the large eyes, the gaping mouths and the gently waving fins. What
monsters they were! And how he longed to possess one of them!
Without warning the fish disappeared. They had become suspicious of the
boat floating in their path and had simply melted into the depths below.
Don Marco motioned for continued silence. He knew the ways of the
creatures; before many minutes had passed they reappeared as suddenly as
they had gone. But now they were on all sides of the batalao. Their
fears had vanished and they moved as a unit into the passageway.
David held the harpoon firmly in his right hand; at his feet lay the
coil of thick cord that was fastened to it. A small keg was perched on
the outrigger board; it would serve as a buoy to locate the fish when it
had become exhausted.
When one of the passing host was almost below him David let go the
harpoon with all his strength. There was a splash, followed immediately
by other splashing all around them as the entire school sounded.
The line rushed overboard and cut the water with a hissing sound; a
moment later the keg followed with a splash and began a wild rush into
the river. It was a
[Illustration: A huge silvery form ... leaped out of the water, rolled
and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.]
great sight to see the half-submerged buoy tearing a wide path through
the muddy water, towed by the terrified monster deep below.
“The _curare_!” Don Marco shouted; but the men had already untied the
dugout canoe that trailed behind the batalao. The captain, David and two
of the sailors jumped into it and they were off after the fleeing keg.
“He can’t keep it up very long,” Don Marco panted as they dug deep their
paddles and sped along. “A few kilometers at most and the drag will tire
him out. He must be enormous--look how the keg is travelling. If the
line should break he will be lost.”
After running downstream several hundred yards the float came to a stop.
“It snapped, or the harpoon did not hold. He’s gone,” were the first
thoughts that came to the pursuers. But a few minutes later it moved
again, this time heading upstream. That was fortunate for the men but
unfortunate for the fish, for now it had to fight not only the current
but pull the hampering weight against the stream also. And it was coming
straight toward the canoe. Soon it was abreast, so the paddlers turned
the craft and now had no difficulty in keeping up with it.
Bit by bit the fish weakened and after half an hour the keg stood still.
“Now we must get it quickly, before it can rest,” the captain called.
When they reached the float he leaned over, caught the line with his
hands and began to pull it in, not hurriedly, but with an even, steady
movement.
This, however, gave new life to the fish. It dashed away, downstream,
but the man retained possession of the cord and the canoe tore through
the water at great speed, her nose ploughing so deeply that it was all
but submerged.
The men dropped their paddles and began to bail out the water that
poured in in a steady stream; but soon it became apparent that their
efforts could not stem the flood that was rising about their feet. If
the fish did not slacken its pace soon they would have to release the
line or the canoe would be swamped.
But the great pirarucú was rapidly exhausting the last vestige of its
strength in pulling the dugout. It was gradually coming nearer the
surface; and then a huge, silvery form leaped out of the water, rolled
and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.
Don Marco rapidly took in the line and in a moment they had reached the
spot where the last ripples were dying in a widening circle; soon the
prize had been brought up from the muddy depths and wallowed helplessly
beside the boat.
What a beauty it was! And what a monster! A line was made fast just in
back of the fins and they towed it back to the batalao, where it was
hoisted aboard.
As the great fish lay on the deck, David surveyed it with a triumphant
gleam in his eyes. It was fully eight feet long and the captain said it
would weigh more than four hundred pounds. The glistening body was a
foot and a half broad across the back and two feet wide along the
greater part of its length. Silver scales the size of a dollar covered
it and those on the lower half were margined with scarlet. The mouth was
very large and wide open; the fish was dead.
After examining it for some time David’s feeling of exultation gave way
to pity for the beautiful creature. It was of such great size, so
majestic, and seemed like a fitting denizen of the Amazon,
representative of the mystery and the wonder of the mighty river. It
seemed so out of place on the deck of the boat.
“That is a beauty,” he commented, “but one is enough for a long time. I
am not going to kill another unless it is needed very badly. What are we
going to do with it?”
After taking a number of photographs of the fish, David watched the
sailors dress it. Then they cut it into slabs and sprinkled salt over
the pieces, which they hung up to dry.
“It will keep months now,” Don Marco said. “We shall need most of it,
and what is left can be sold further up the river.”
They rowed and poled upstream a short distance above the mouth of the
creek and anchored for the night.