THE ASCENT OF THE UPPER AMAZON
Day was just breaking when the launch nosed her way out into the little
stream. Overhead, the leaf-covered branches of the trees that lined the
water-course met to form a delicate tracery of black against the graying
sky.
Birds raised their voices, clear and cheery in the checkered canopy and
others responded in drowsy, listless whispers from the dark walls on
either side.
Where the creek was narrowest or where the foliage was so dense as
completely to obscure the sky, the water seemed to melt away into deep
pools of blackness; but the launch glided on and on without plunging
abruptly into some unseen abyss, although the muffled throb of the
engine always seemed fainter in the heavier gloom as if in deference to
the all-pervading spirit of darkness.
Once there was a sudden crashing in the heavy undergrowth followed by
the splash of a heavy body in the water; then silence for a short
interval. Now the sequence was reversed. There was first a splashing in
the water and then the crashing of brush--on the opposite side of the
stream. A tapir, alarmed by the boat, had sought refuge in the water
only to discover that the cause of its terror was directly in its path.
Therefore it had dived and swum swiftly beneath the surface and then,
emerging, lost no time in regaining the land.
When the light grew somewhat stronger gaunt forms appeared between the
water and the fretwork overhead. They always sprang out of the deepest
shadows and melted into the distance as silent as spectres and as devoid
of clews as to their identity. But finally, when one of them emitted a
hoarse croak of fright as the launch rounded a bend and brushed the
vegetation in which the creature had been concealed, David knew that it
was a heron.
The occasional chorus of squawks that came from high above belonged to
flocks of macaws on their way to some fruiting tree for an early
breakfast.
By the time the sun rose the launch had entered the main river where the
craft hugged the shore in order to avoid the strong current further out.
There now being less danger of collisions they moved at a faster rate of
speed. David could not but feel how different this mode of travel was
from the slow, painful progress made by the batalao when he came up this
same river to the ranch.
The Solimoes was broad, majestic and awe-inspiring. Frequently they were
caught in swift eddies near the bank, where the launch had to fight for
each inch of the way; and occasionally they had to make detours far out
into the river to avoid treacherous sand bars covered with only a few
inches of water. The latter were in great contrast to other parts of
the river where the depth was immense.
One such place was pointed out by the men. The spot was marked by a keg
buoy; one of the steamers plying on the Upper Amazon had gone down there
shortly before with nearly all hands. The boat had been located on the
bottom, two hundred and ninety feet down. Divers could not descend to
that great depth and even if they could they would not on account of the
aquatic monsters that lurked far beneath the surface.
At Palomas, a small station maintained from the ranch, they stopped to
replenish their supply of gasoline. Carrying the cases to the launch and
storing them took several hours and as it was late in the afternoon when
the work was finished it was decided to remain at anchor until the next
morning.
David worked with the others, carrying the heavy tins on his shoulder
until it seemed the sharp corners had cut furrows in the flesh; and,
while some of the others did a good deal of complaining, he said
nothing.
After the task had been completed he stripped for a swim--the first in
days. One of the men observed his action and hastened to caution him
against entering the river on account of the great numbers of crocodiles
and cannibal fishes that congregated at this particular spot and would
make short work of anyone foolhardy enough to enter the water. However,
there was a place farther up where one could swim in safety.
Several others now came to join them and together they went to a little
bay where a stockade of stout poles had been driven into the bottom
forming an enclosure that barred the entrance of the savage creatures
inhabiting the river.
So far, the peons, while not discourteous, had persisted in their
aloofness toward David, and he could not but feel that as yet they had
not accepted him as one of their number. He wanted to overcome that
feeling on their part; he was compelled to share their labors and it was
but natural that he wanted to share their confidences also. The tobacco
he had given them in the hut at the ranch, and on several occasions
after that, had helped break down the barrier between them. But for the
greater part, they had accepted it merely as a present from someone
financially able and by nature generous enough to give it. Anyone in
like circumstances could do that. It would require some feat of physical
prowess and courage to establish the stranger deeply in their
estimation. Not until he had demonstrated such traits to their entire
satisfaction would the gulf between them be closed.
After ascertaining the depth of the water, David began to dive off the
high bank, from numerous positions, and before he realized it, the men
had stopped swimming and had formed a semi-circle to watch. Then came
exclamations of surprise and approbation as he plunged, again and again,
into the water.
“Bravo,” they shouted as he reappeared after each splash.
“It’s nothing,” David answered with a happy smile. “Come along and I’ll
show you how to do it.”
But the men did not follow him; the bank was too high, they said.
Therefore, Jones showed them various strokes in swimming and in this
they all joined, vieing with one another in attempts to master the
lesson and thereby win the _muito bom_ of approval from the master.
When they returned to the launch the men who had been to swim told the
others what had occurred and were loud in their praise of their new
companion.
Everyone listened interestedly except Miguel, their self-appointed
leader.
“Who couldn’t swim inside the stockade?” he asked derisively.
“It wasn’t that. We all swam, but it was the ways he did it. And you
should have seen him dive from the top of the bank, and you know how
high that is.”
“All it takes to do that is practice,” Miguel said, with an air of
pouring out wisdom to the ignorant. “Some day we will see if this Nobody
is so wonderful in the water. I will go into the river--” he paused so
that they might appreciate the full weight of his words, “into the
river, I said, where there is no stockade, or into a lagoon full of
piranhas and crocodiles. See if he will follow me.”
At first David said nothing. But the men were looking at him expectantly
and a few were showing disappointment in their faces.
“All right,” he answered slowly. “Let me know when you are ready. I am
not trying to show off but I can certainly do anything you can.”
The men now looked at Miguel. He moved uneasily. His bluff had been
called, much to his dismay. But he held his ground.
“I will let you know” he said, “and everybody else, too, so they can see
just how brave you are and what a good swimmer you are. You said you
would follow me; I have witnesses.”
“Yes. I said that. I expect you to make good--I have witnesses, too.”
Just then the cook called the men for the evening meal, so taking their
bowls and spoons they went to the launch for their dole of rice and
beef.
In the days that followed, David gave demonstrations and lessons in
swimming and diving so often as the opportunity presented itself; and,
under his instruction a number of the party soon became adepts at
performing the feats they had admired so greatly. In return, they showed
him how to handle the lasso and he lost no chance to practice with it,
using stumps and snags for targets and sometimes one of the men who
would run past, inviting the entangling coils of the rope.
Miguel made no further mention of his challenge and David was careful
not to remind him of it. It was not until several weeks later that the
matter again came up, with consequences as unexpected as they were
startling.
For the present David was fully occupied with the venture in hand. There
were a hundred things he wanted to learn and the questions he asked were
many. The men, however, were reluctant to talk on most subjects and he
finally came to the conclusion that their reticence was the result
either of ignorance or of orders from higher up.
They were glad enough to help him with his study of their language--so
far as they themselves knew it; to tell him about the river or the
animals; and of the methods employed in collecting and preparing the
rubber latex. But when he asked about Rice, the ranch, or kindred things
they remained ominously silent.
After a while David did not mention these subjects again. It was too
evident that the men did not want to discuss them.
A week later they entered a river that joined the Solimoes from the
west. It was a small stream compared with the one into which it
emptied--not over a few hundred yards in width. At least, the channel
they had entered was narrow and the water was clear and swift so that
the launch made slow progress. When David looked down at the water
speeding past them it seemed that they must be moving along at a furious
rate; when he looked at the trees on the bank he knew that they were
barely making any headway. It took several hours for them to battle
their way up the turbulent stretch of rapids.
“That is an island,” said one of the men, pointing to the land on their
right. “This channel is bad enough--especially when the water is low.
But you should see the branch on the other side of the island. There is
a drop there several meters high and no boat can pass up or down it.”
David was not greatly impressed by these words. He did not recall them
even later when he found himself suddenly at the brink of that very
drop.
The country rapidly became wilder in appearance. Perhaps it only seemed
so because the stream was so narrow that they had a continuous close
view of both banks and the heavy growth that clothed them.
The launch seemed strangely out of place in the dreary, primeval waste
of jungle and hurrying water. Men had come and gone before on the river;
and Indians and beasts lived in the green fortresses on either side. But
there was no sign of them, no trace of their presence or existence. Only
once was there evidence that others besides themselves were stirring on
the now silent, undemonstrative river.
They had just rounded a sharp bend which had obstructed their view
up-stream. Ahead of them and not more than two hundred yards distant was
another abrupt bend. The stern of a dugout canoe was just disappearing
around it. They could not see the occupants of the craft, but the
widening circles of ripples on the water showed that a number of paddles
had been dipped deep to propel the canoe at great speed.
They reached the spot soon after. Ahead of them was a clear stretch of
water fully a mile long. It was not possible that the Indians could have
covered that distance while the launch, travelling much faster, was
traversing the very short distance that had separated them. But the
dugout was not in sight. There was not a trace of it--not even a ripple
on the water to tell where it had gone. It had vanished completely.
The river glided on as smoothly and as silently as before with the
secret of the mysterious craft safely locked in its yellow flood.
“The guns,” the captain said quietly as they steered toward the middle
of the stream.
The men who had weapons loaded them and held them ready for instant
action. They scanned the banks as they sped along, but saw no signs of
the canoe. There were no creeks or inlets in which it could have been
hidden.
“Where did it get to?” David asked in astonishment.
“Who knows?” one of the men answered. “That is one of the mysterious
things the Indians do that cannot be explained. One minute you see them,
the next they are gone. And the minute you forget all about them a
shower of arrows comes rattling around your head.”
“I can’t understand it. I should think it would get on your nerves,”
David commented with a shudder.
“It does. Who wouldn’t be upset when he knows there are silent, tricky
shadows all around him that appear and fade away at will. You’ll
understand it better when you have been in the country longer.”
“I don’t feel comfortable. It doesn’t seem natural.”
“I tell you these Indians are _diablos_. They are not human. That’s why
we are no match for them. You’ll see!”
The river grew somewhat narrower as they advanced up-stream. Also the
water was still falling, the dry season not having reached its height.
In a few weeks it would be at its lowest stage; then it would remain
stationary for some time, until the coming of the rains when it always
rose rapidly until the stream was converted into a roaring flood.
The receding water left the ledges of rock that cropped out of the river
bank exposed above the surface--some of them many feet up, others
sloping gently into the stream. All of them were covered with mud which
had not dried on the more recently exposed ones.
They came suddenly upon such a table-like expanse glistening in the
bright sunlight. On it were dark masses that moved. The distance
separating them was at first too great for David to tell just what the
objects were, but the men saw them before long and raised a shout of
joy.
“Meat, meat!” they said. “Now we will have fresh meat to eat.”
“What are they, turtles?” David asked, then answered his own question.
“They can’t be. Look at the bright colors.”
“They are birds,” someone said. “All kinds of parrots.”
“Parrots? What are they doing in the mud?”
“Eating it, of course.”
“And you expect me to believe that? There are a good many things I don’t
know about your country, but I do know that parrots don’t eat mud.”
“It’s the truth”; it was Miguel who strove to show his superior
knowledge. “They come each year when the water is low and gorge
themselves on the fresh mud. There is salt or something of that kind in
it and they come to get that.”
They were now near enough to the ledge so that a good view of the birds
could be had. There were large groups of them that must have totaled
thousands of individuals. Many different species were abundantly
represented. There were red and blue macaws of great size; large green
parrots with yellow heads; parrokeets no larger than an English sparrow;
and many of intermediate dimensions. Almost every hue of the rainbow
could be seen in the assortment. But standing out from the motley array
was a group of the magnificent hyacinthine macaws.
Much to the surprise of David the birds were not alarmed upon the
approach of the launch. Ordinarily so wary, they paid not the slightest
attention to the oncoming, noisy craft, but continued delving deeply
into the mire with their hooked beaks.
“The mud makes them stupid,” they explained when he asked the reason for
the seeming indifference, “or else they get drunk on it. Anyway, they
can’t fly away. That’s why we are going to have all the fresh meat we
can eat for a few days.”
When the launch reached the ledge the men leaped ashore with poles in
their hands and clambered into the midst of the groups of birds. A few
took wing, circled once or twice and then came back to their old places;
a number of others ran about aimlessly, obviously bewildered, but unable
to seek safety in flight. The vast majority, however, did not notice the
men, who began clubbing them with their poles.
David revolted at the sight, but was powerless to prevent the slaughter,
in which, however, he took no part.
“I’m going to have one for a pet, though,” he thought, “one of the big
blue ones.”
He threw his coat over a hyacinthine macaw and carried it back to the
launch where he deposited it on the deck. When he removed the covering
the bird struggled to its feet and stood blinking at him in a dazed
manner.
How wonderful it was! It measured nearly four feet from the tip of its
hooked beak to the end of its tail, and was of a uniform deep blue
color. The bill was of enormous proportions, fully three inches deep,
the upper mandible ending in a sharp, hooked point, the lower fitting
into it like a keen-edged scoop. He had not imagined that such a
creature existed.
Soon the men came back laden with their victims. They made several trips
back and forth to gather up all the birds they had killed, but at last
the task was completed and a high heap lay on the deck. Fortunately,
large numbers of survivors still remained on the ledge, eating as
unconcernedly as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
When the men saw what David had done they roared with laughter.
“Wait until it wakes up,” one said. “It will make things hot for you.
You’ll never manage it.”
“I’m going to tie it,” David explained. “Here is a string that I bet
will hold it.”
At this they laughed louder than before.
“Better use this wire,” one suggested, handing him one of the kind used
in binding the bales of dried beef, and he accepted it, fastening one
end to one of the bird’s legs and the other to the rail.
“Now, I guess you’ll stay a while,” David commented. “I’m going to tame
you and take you back home with me.”
The remainder of the day was spent plucking and dressing the parrots and
that night they ate quantities of them that had been boiled first and
then roasted. The flesh was of excellent flavor, though many of the
birds were tough in the extreme. However, they were a most welcome
change from the everlasting dried beef and there were enough left for
several days to come.