IN THE RUBBER FOREST
The rubber camp was a dismal place. The clusters of huts comprising the
settlement stood in the deep shade cast by gigantic trees that grew
close together; most of them were little more than shelters--peaked
roofs on poles, and were of the flimsiest possible construction. The
palm-leaf thatch was held in place by poles laid across it short
distances apart, instead of being tied with strips of bark or creepers.
However, the makeshift construction was entirely practicable as the
hovels had to be replaced each year and they served their purpose well
for one short season.
The paths that had been worn between the huts were muddy and a number of
lean pigs wallowed in them. The latter were the camp scavengers and were
also relied upon to destroy scorpions, tarantulas and other obnoxious
creatures that ventured near the human habitations.
The smokehouses in which the rubber later was prepared, after it had
been brought in from the forest, stood apart from the huts occupied as
living quarters by the men. These had walls that enclosed them, but
light filtered into the interior through the thin layer of leaves that
extended from the roof to the ground. The earth floors were littered
with an array of large tin cones, pails, bowls of various sizes, wooden
paddles and heaps of the palm nuts burned to produce the acrid smoke
needed to congeal the rubber milk. There were also numerous little
fireplaces built of stones. David was to learn the use of all these
utensils very soon.
Several long dug-out canoes were tied up at the bank. They were a
precautionary measure. If the water in the river should rise suddenly,
as it sometimes did, the men could take to the boats as the whole region
would soon be inundated.
They unloaded the launch and carried the supplies to the storehouse.
Their personal effects were taken to those huts having sufficient space
for their hammocks. David returned to the boat just in time to see a
large bird winging its way up the river.
“There goes your pet,” one of the men greeted him. “I told you so.”
The wire had been bitten in two as if it had been a thread.
“Well, if it’s like that, I’m glad it’s gone,” David said, but he was in
reality somewhat sorry to lose his prize.
“You can’t keep them,” the man continued. “They bite or gnaw their way
out of anything and if you try to be friendly they bite your fingers
off.”
The bird had swerved in its flight and with raucous screams disappeared
over the tree-tops.
Nothing was seen of the men engaged in the rubber harvest, for they were
in the forest collecting the previous night’s flow of sap. Only two
Brazilians, the cook and his helper, were on duty at the camp, and they
kept up a continuous bombardment of questions of the newcomers, most of
which concerned David, but he did not try to understand what was being
said.
The Indians and Brazilians arrived from the forest shortly before noon
and looked at the white man in astonishment. The Indians had their
abodes apart from the others and did not mingle with the Brazilians;
most of them had their entire families with them and all helped with the
work in hand.
David was awakened early the following morning. Daylight had not yet
penetrated into the jungle, but by the time coffee had been prepared,
each man going to the cook shack with his cup for his share, the gray
light was filtering through the branches overhead. The Indians remained
near their hovels and prepared their own food over small fires.
“Come with me!” The speaker was one of the men who had come on the
launch, and his words were directed at David.
“Here is your outfit. I will start you on a route and tell you all you
have to know,” he continued. “Tomorrow and every day after that you’ll
be alone like the rest of us.”
David took the small ax which, however, had a handle five feet long;
that was the “outfit” to which the man had referred. Silently, he
followed his guide into the forest.
“Now, listen,” the latter said, after they had gone a short distance.
“The trees that produce the rubber milk are called _Hevea
braziliensis_; everybody knows that name, even the most ignorant
Indians, so you ought to remember it, too. The trees grow all over the
forest, but the trouble is that there are never very many of them close
together. You will find one here and one there and by the time you have
discovered a few hundred you will be many kilometers from where you
started. Could you tell one if you saw it?”
“Yes, I know a rubber tree. It has long, thick leaves. Some of them grow
higher than I am,” David replied, proud of his knowledge.
“I never saw one like that. This is one of the kind I mean,” and the man
stopped. Before him was a tree fully seventy-five feet high and eighteen
inches through at the base. At first it looked to David exactly like all
the other trees around them. But a second glance showed a number of
V-shaped welts distributed evenly around the lower part of the trunk.
“Is that one?” he asked. “It is different from my kind, but I see. It
will be easy to find the trees now that you have pointed one out to me.
I could tell them from a distance on account of the way the bark grows.”
The man burst into a laugh.
“The bark don’t grow that way naturally,” he said. “This tree has been
bled some time ago and those marks are the scars that have healed over.”
He then explained the characteristics by which the hevea trees could be
readily identified. The bark, for instance, was fairly smooth, and the
long leaves grew in little clusters of three.
They walked on rapidly winding to right and to left so as to find all
the trees growing in a wide belt of country, but kept a straight course
toward the east.
After a while the guide stopped suddenly.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” David replied.
“Where is camp?”
“That way,” and David pointed north.
“You’re wrong, but it’s my fault. I should have told you before; the
best way to mark your trail in the jungle is to bend down twigs as you
go along. The under sides of the leaves are much lighter than the upper
sides, so you can see them a long way off. Watch!”
He snapped a small branch and the two walked on. Looking back, David
could easily distinguish the light, silvery under surface of the leaves
on the branch that had been bent.
After that he snapped twigs frequently, leaving a well-defined trail in
back of them.
They had spent nearly three hours in the forest and had penetrated a
distance of fully four miles.
“This will be enough trees to start with,” the Brazilian said, stopping.
“I have spotted two hundred and fifty of them and they will keep you
busy until you learn more about the work. After a while you can go as
much further as you like. A good man works five or six hundred trees.
But you will have your hands full with these now.”
“What do I have to do?” David asked. “How do you milk a rubber tree?”
“They are not milked,” the man replied with a superior air. “They are
bled. We will take this one for an example. Watch what I do. Look
closely and ask me any questions you want to.”
He took the long-handled ax and standing on the tips of his toes made a
number of quick cuts in the bark as high up as he could reach. Two
incisions were always made together to form a V, and the blade was not
driven straight into the bark but at an angle so that the cut had
slanting edges.
After encircling the tree-trunk with these marks--about ten inches
apart, the ring of them being over ten feet above the ground, the man
stopped to explain their purpose. They were made merely to stimulate the
flow of sap or latex. Each cut was a wound to the tree; it would rush a
stream of sap to the spot to cleanse it, keep out insects and dust and
to seal it until it could grow together again. That was nature’s way of
protecting the tree when it was injured and while healing was in
progress.
If the tree were wounded in too many places at the same time it would be
unable to cope with the situation and would die of the shock. But if the
injuries were inflicted in gradually increasing numbers it would build
up a strong defense by storing a large quantity of sap, ready to be
rushed to any part of the trunk to clean new abrasions and protect them
so soon as they were inflicted.
Three or four days would be required to bring about this state of
affairs in most cases, although in some trees it would take a week.
That would be David’s first task--to make circles of incisions each
morning to stimulate the trees to action.
Next, he was told the rules that had to be observed in tapping the
trees. The cuts must be ten inches apart and each new ring must be ten
inches below the last one. Also, the position of each incision had to be
halfway between those above, so that two days’ work would look like this
V V V V
V V V V
Only one other thing remained to be told. No tree was to be disturbed
unless it had a circumference of six spans half a meter above the
ground.
When, on the fourth or fifth day, the milk began to flow in quantity
sufficient to be collected, a strip of tough palm midrib was tied around
the trunk near the base. One side was pushed down a few inches; when the
milk ran down the trunk it was stopped by the girdle and flowing along
it soon reached the lowest part where a large leaf folded into a cone
was suspended to receive it.
It all looked very simple and David was sure he would have no trouble in
following the instructions given him. On the return journey he snapped
twigs continually so that he could easily find his way over the same
route the next day.
He was back on the trail early, starting at the same time as the others,
who branched away in all directions. The long-handled ax was in his
hands and the revolver, which he now always carried, was in its holster
at his side. Most of the men had a firearm of some kind; others had bows
and arrows, in the use of which they were proficient, having learned the
art from the Indians.
There was no trouble in picking up the trail of the previous day, and
the bent twigs with the silvery under side of the leaves showing
plainly, made it easy to follow the route that had been selected for
him.
As he came to each rubber tree he stopped and made the circle of
V-shaped cuts so high up as he could reach with the ax. It was still
early when he finished and began the homeward walk. The forest was
strangely silent save for the call of an occasional bird in the
distance.
As he was covering his route for the second time he noticed that the
cuts he had made the day before were covered with beads and rivulets of
whitish gum. Some of it had trickled down a few inches on the trunk
before hardening. That was encouraging and he hastened to make the
second ring of incisions below the first.
This was continued daily for a period of five days and by that time the
sap was flowing so abundantly that the ground at the foot of the trees
was covered with it. The girdles and leaf-cups were now put in position
and it was with a feeling of eagerness that David started on his journey
the following morning, this time carrying a large tin pail in addition
to the ax.
Each folded leaf contained from one to two ounces of the milky sap. They
were emptied into the bucket and the leaves were replaced at the lowest
part of the belt. New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s
supply.
When Jones reached the end of his line the pail was nearly full and he
had to walk carefully in order not to spill any of the precious fluid.
Also, it was very heavy. As he walked along slowly, an idea came to him.
Why had he begun to collect the milk at the near end of the trail? That
meant carrying the filled pail all the way back! By starting at the far
end the pail would not be full until he was nearly back in camp and so
the carry would be a short one.
After the midday meal, which was most uninviting as it consisted of the
eternal dried beef, rice and beans, all boiled together so that they
formed a thick, brown mass, he went to one of the smokehouses to prepare
his day’s catch.
This structure, like the others used for the purpose, was almost
entirely enclosed; that is, the palm leaves, of which the roof was
composed, hung down in a ragged fringe until they touched the ground.
The ends were closed with other leaves fastened to cross pieces of
bamboo. There was only one small opening that served as a doorway, but
light entered the interior through the numerous little holes between the
leaves.
The smoke was so dense that at first David could see nothing. His eyes
began to smart and tears rolled down his cheeks. The smoke threatened to
suffocate him and, coughing violently, he began to grope blindly for the
doorway.
“Stoop down, _caboclo_,” someone called to him and he obeyed
mechanically. The air was clear lower down; in fact, the smoke hovered
in a thick cloud near the top of the structure, its lower edge four feet
above the earth floor.
David had recognized the voice that had called to him. It was Miguel’s.
And the word _caboclo_ meant a sort of worthless fellow and was always
used derisively. But he was in no condition to resent the insult just
then, so pretended not to have noticed it.
When his eyes had cleared he could make out a number of men squatting
near their smudges, each engaged in smoking his day’s harvest of rubber
sap. There being several unused fireplaces he went to one of them and
set down his pail. Then he went to one of the men--one he had taught to
swim and dive, and asked questions, watching him proceed with his work
the while. The process was a very simple one, so he soon returned to his
place, started a fire between the stones and when the dry sticks were
blazing he placed upon them several of the large palm nuts used to
produce the smudge.
Soon the smoke was rolling upward in a broad, white column; then he
placed one of the tall, cone-shaped tins over it so that it now poured
out of the opening in the pointed end in a small though dense stream.
The milk was emptied into a wide, shallow pan. A pole five feet long and
having a circumference of six inches was suspended by one end from the
rafters with a strong cord. He took the loose end in one hand, swung the
pole over the pan, dipped up some of the milk with a gourd dipper and
poured it over the central part of the pole. A good deal of it adhered
to the wood but the greater part of it ran down again into the pan.
Then he quickly swung the pole so that the part covered with sap was
directly over the tin cone; the acrid smoke pouring out of it instantly
converted the milk into rubber by congealing and darkening it.
In a short time he became very proficient in the operation. The pole was
kept swinging back and forth constantly; when it was above the pan it
received a fresh coat of milk and when it swung over the smoke a new,
thin layer of rubber was formed.
It took several hours to prepare his morning’s catch. The novelty of the
work made it interesting, at first. After that it was nothing but a
monotonous, mechanical grind and David was glad when the last drops had
been scooped out of the pan and added to the slowly forming ball on the
pole. All the others had finished their work long before that time and
were lolling about camp.
David went to his quarters for his lasso. There were still several hours
before nightfall and he would use them in practice with the rope; it was
absolutely necessary that he become expert in its use before returning
to the ranch.
Again and again the coil was swung over his head and sent speeding at a
conveniently situated stump that served as a target. More often than not
the loop fell wide of the mark. He was so engrossed in his occupation
that he had not noticed the little group of men that had gathered to
watch his efforts.
“He will never learn anything. Just look at that! missed it four
meters.” David knew that the voice belonged to Miguel, without turning
to look at the speaker. “I told you he was a _caboclo_,” the latter
continued.
David pretended not to hear. He whipped up the noose with a snap and
prepared it for another throw.
“And he’s worse than that. If anybody called me a caboclo I’d fight.”
Miguel had been encouraged by David’s silence and was adding insult to
injury.
That was too much for David. He dropped the rope and in a few quick
strides reached the man who had so openly challenged him.
“Look here,” he said very quietly, “don’t you ever get the idea that I’m
afraid of you--or anyone else either. This is not the first time you
tried to make trouble; but it’s going to be the last time. Understand?”
The even tones deceived Miguel. The only kind of fighting he knew was
always preceded by loud, fiery arguments. The American was clearly
evading the issue.
“Well,” he said with a sneer, “what are you going to do about it?”
“This!” David’s right fist shot out like a bolt and sent the
troublemaker flat on his back.