Chapter XII (2)

The oil man ascends the river, with a fleet of canoes in company, manned with workmen, loaded with provisions, copper boilers, spades, &c. They know the time the turtle has laid its last egg, and while the eggs are fresh, they dig them from the sand, beginning on one side of the island, and turning up the soil to the proper depth. They throw out the eggs like potatoes, while others gather them up in baskets. A canoe is washed out, and the eggs thrown in and thoroughly broken by means of forked sticks. The soft shell or skin, is pitched out; a quantity of water poured in and left to stand in the sun. The oil rises on the surface; this is skimmed off and heated in copper boilers. Being put up in large earthen jars or pots, containing four or five gallons, it is sold in the markets of the Amazon. In Pará, the price per pound varies from five to ten mil reis. One silver dollar of Bolivia money is now worth eighteen hundred reis. While the "manteca"—butter or oil—is fresh, it is used for culinary purposes. The cook, of course, knows nothing of the number of young turtles which may have been boiled in it during the late period of digging. Its general use, however, is for lamp oil. The annual supply from all the rivers in the Amazon basin is consumed within the mouths of these rivers.

Turtle are now said to be scarce. We see millions of eggs destroyed by the oil-hunters, who search all the islands, and drive the turtles from one to the other. The men tell me there are no eggs to be found on the island they worked at last year. The mother turtle was disappointed; the little ones never made their appearance from out of the sand where eggs were deposited, although they are not wise enough to understand the boiling process their eggs had undergone, yet, something was known to be wrong, and placing no faith in _that_ sand bank, every one deserted it, and made use of an island they would not have chosen had they been let alone. There the oil man continues to follow them. These turtle are called by the Brazilians "Tortaruga Grande." There are said to be four other kinds in the Madeira river, viz., "Cabecudá," "Trocajá," "Pitehú" and "Matá-matá." The Tortaruga Grande is the best for eating and for oil; they are also in greater abundance than the others.

Huts are built in the sand for the protection of the hunters against the great heats of the sun in the day, and the rains. The men, who are of Amazon Indian blood, have their wives with them. There are few negroes at this business. Brazilians, of Portuguese descent, gather a band of adventurers, or fishermen, who are willing to leave their homes for this wild country, and seek their fortunes among the sands, where no diamonds have yet been found. The life is a hard one; the exposure on the voyage, and after they arrive on the ground, is great. Many of them have fevers, their provisions get short, the water is warm, and unless the work is carried on at a rapid rate, the young turtles begin to form in the egg, which impairs the quality of the oil—to say nothing of the butter. Great quantities of rum are consumed on these expeditions. The Portuguese set up shop where rum is sold, and a debtor and credit account is opened with the Indian workmen; in the same way the creole miner does with those of the Andes, making profit, while he pays the workmen's monthly wages—from three to five dollars—with provisions.

The workmen soon get tired and want to return. The employer takes out a passport for them all at the last military post as he ascends; they are forbidden to travel about the country without one. The workman is held to his promise to remain during the season, good treatment or bad, by retaining his passport. Our crew became intoxicated among their countrymen, and danced part of the night with Amazonian girls, to the tune of violins, in the huts, while heavy rain poured down in large drops, accompanied with thunder and sharp lightning. Wind blowing fresh from northeast.

_October 3._—The crew wished to remain among these greasy people, but as we preferred floating on by the current, to laying by the side of the oil canoes and hot sand bank, we pushed off with a _mail_ on board. As we descend, the river stretches out in long bends towards the northeast. Twenty-five fathoms sounding and no bottom. The width varies from six hundred to a thousand yards. The country is level; the growth of trees decreasing in size the lower we go.

_October 4._—At 9 a. m., thermometer, 88°; water, 87°. The small streams which flow in from the eastern side are of a deep green color, at 87° temperature. The banks are twelve feet high, and break down perpendicularly.

_October 5._—This morning we met four "Muras" Indians fishing with bows and arrows mid-channel, in small canoes, hewn from one log. One canoe contained a woman and two children, under the thatched roof of a little cabin. These people were all dressed in decent fashion. The women wore a calico frock! The men were larger than the Caripunas, and more reserved; it was with difficulty we could get them to stop and sell us a paddle; we wanted to replace a broken one. A knife was paid for it, when they desired to push off from us. Probably they were ashamed of being fishermen without any fish; or had, at some time, met with ill treatment. Sounded with twenty-three fathoms, no bottom. A short distance further down, got bottom at thirty-six feet, and lost both lead and line. There are a few snags in the channel, among which our line was entangled.

My bilious has now turned to ague and fever. The stench from the muddy banks, and stagnant pools of water, has become exceedingly offensive, and at night we have musquitoes, which we were not troubled with among the falls. The current varies in its speed from an half to two miles per hour, showing an uneven surface. The ground over which it flows is sloping in steps, or shelving, which gives the outward motion of the water a jerking impetus. Islands, long and narrow, divide the stream into two channels; yet the depth of water, and width of the passages, are sufficient for all commercial purposes. Pedro tells me the "Toras" tribe of Indians inhabit the east side of the river; we, however, saw nothing of them.

_October 6._—We landed on the west bank, at "Roscenia de Crato," which is a frontier post of the Brazilians, on the Madeira. The entire country between this settlement and the town of Exaltacion, in Bolivia, is inhabited by savages. The Portuguese have ascended the Amazon and Madeira thus far on their southwestward emigration. The Spaniards, who crossed the Isthmus of Panama and the mountains of Bolivia, are now on their northeast descent, to meet the Brazilians. The movement, on both sides, is slow, but the white man is crowding close upon each flank of the savage, who now occupies but a narrow strip of land between the emigrants from Spain and Portugal—gradually working through the wilderness towards each other.

Crato belongs, partly, to my friend Don Antonio Cordoza. A few years ago, his father established a trading station here, where the Indians come in from the wild woods with sarsaparilla, Brazil nuts, chocolate, pitch, and guaraná, prepared from the seed of a fruit found in the woods, represented to be somewhat like the wild cherry. The Indians mash the seed between stones, and make a paste by adding water; after being dried in the sun, it is rolled in one pound weights, and is sold at the station at fifty cents per pound. Don Antonio sold guaraná in Trinidad at four dollars. The Spaniards are exceedingly fond of it; the price has been as high as eight dollars a pound, in the mountains of Bolivia. Guaraná resembles prepared chocolate; a small quantity grated in a tumbler of water with sugar, makes not only a very refreshing, but a strengthening drink. The Indians use it when hunting or marching, thinking it enables them to undergo a great amount of fatigue. The trader pays the Indian in rum, hatchets, knives, fish-hooks, beads, &c. We find four or five houses, inhabited by squatters, surrounded by a beautiful pampa country; here and there clusters of forest trees. On the plains the pasture proves excellent for the few cattle and horses that have been brought up the river. Quantities of chickens flourish about the house, with dogs and fat hogs.

The families are of Portuguese descent. A hamac was slung for me in a house with a parlor on one side and a small sugar-mill on the other. While the olive colored women sat sewing, the man was employed putting sugar-cane between the vertical wooden cylinders, as our men turned the beam by hand to get some sugar juice to refresh themselves. The people were extremely kind and attentive. Mrs. Santa Ana, the wife of the man to whom we brought letters, doctored us with chicken tea, declaring "people died with the fever in this country who would not eat."

The soil is well adapted to the growth of the sugar-cane. We are told the country far west is a prairie for a long distance, covered with fine pasture. The Indians are called "Muras;" they are fond of trading, and less warlike than some others, of whom little is known. They seem to be pleased with the difference between rum and sarsaparilla.

We remained here all night to give the men a rest, and try to get _one_ night's sleep ourselves, but there was no rest with a high fever. The river water cooled in an earthen monkey was refreshing.

Our boat was well washed out, and the baggage restowed; a large hog killed for the men, and our chicken basket filled with fowls. We were requested to take charge of the mail, a handful of letters, and embarked with many thanks to our friends on the frontier.

Soundings vary from seven to twenty-one and a half fathoms. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 92°; water, 86°; calm.

_October 8._—During the night we had heavy rain, sharp lightning, and thunder from northeast. At 9 a. m., thermometer, 83°; water, 85°. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 88°; water, 86°. The rest at Crato has refreshed us all; the men pull stoutly; they are now civil and attentive, showing a desire to behave themselves well, though we find a free negro the most difficult character to control. The Indian attends to his duty without being told to do so. The negroes begin to fear a difficulty with us, and are coming round, not only to their daily work, with more spirit, but are particular to show us respect. We would decline an offer of a boat's crew of free negroes on another such expedition. We have felt that had these men not been aware we were well on our guard since they shot our dog, they would have murdered us without the least hesitation. They disputed our authority and wanted to let us know it.

In the afternoon, as a black cloud comes from the northeast, the wind turns up the sand on the beach and islands above the deep green foliage. As the thunder roars and lightning flashes, we leave the troubled waters of mid-channel and seek a safe little inlet in the bank, and secure the boat till the raging storm passes. On the west bank was a small town of the Muras Indians, built of palmetto wood, and thatched with the wild palm leaf; it appeared to be deserted. The banks were forty feet high, of red clay, and perpendicular. On the east side of the river there were patches of maize. The forest trees are of less height as we descend; long islands stretch from three to five miles, dividing the river in twain. At the mouth of a small, clear, green water stream, we met a party of Indians fishing in a log canoe. The men were naked, and the women dressed in frocks. On one of the sand islands was their temporary hut.

_October 12._—At 9 a. m., thermometer, 83°; water, 86°. For the last three days we have passed through an uninhabited region, without meeting with obstructions to steamboat navigation. The current one mile per hour, and river in some places one mile wide. We met with a fishing "cuberta," at anchor. This vessel is an Amazon craft, used for trading up and down these rivers under sail, or polled, or towed along the bank when the river is low. We went alongside and purchased a dried "pirarucu" fish, which we all fancied the taste of at once; it was new both to us and to the Cuyaba negroes. Pirarucus are taken by the arrow, as they swim near the surface of the water; it has a small head and thick body, covered with scales; they are found here from six to eight feet long. After it is salted and dried in the sun, the meat keeps well twelve months; boatmen toast or boil it without smothering it in potatoes; it has no offensive smell, like boiled dried cod-fish. We are told the fish called "peixe boi," (bull-fish,) of the Madeira, is the same as the "vaca-marina," (sea-cow,) of the Ucayali, though comparatively there are few taken. The captain of the "cuberta" was lounging about the vessel with his coat off, while one or two men were up the river in a small canoe fishing. The cable, by which the vessel swung to her anchor, was made of a black grass like stuff, taken from a species of palm-trees found on the Rio Negro, called "piassába," said to last longer in the water than out of it. Different-sized ropes are made of the piassába, but the cordage of the vessel was generally of Kentucky hemp. Her measurement was not over sixteen tons, rigged schooner fashion. On deck, between the cabin and the forward house, was a large box filled with earth, on which the crew built a fire and cooked fish and turtle. We handed the captain a Bolivian silver dollar in payment for fish, which he seemed pleased to take, and gave us large copper coins in change. Titto, our negro sergeant, had to explain the value of Bolivian silver in Brazil money.

At Porto de Mataurá a guard-house is situated on the east bank. Richards climbed up the steep bank, and presented passports to the commander, who was kind enough to send an officer to offer us a house if we would remain. The officer returned again with a present of a couple of watermelons, said to be an uncertain remedy for fever and ague. They were small, only half ripe, but soon devoured, as they were the only refreshing thing we had seen, except a little sugar-cane, since leaving the fort. The suffering from fever was increased to agony when the same dose had been imprudently repeated. Drinking water was 87°, and the temperature of the air, in the shade, 89°. Under such circumstances fruits and melons are luxurious. The temptation is great, but the sick should be particularly guarded against using such injurious articles, however pleasant to the taste.

As we move on the lands become more elevated, and are better adapted for cultivation than others below Crato. The forest trees are small where the lands are free from inundation, corresponding to observations made as we floated into the middle of Madeira Plate, near Exaltacion. Small streams of water flow in from the east, while, on the west, "madres," or large pools, have an outlet through the bank. The rule is, high banks on the east side of the Madeira, and low to the west, with few exceptions. Springs are scarce. The water trickling down the blue, red, or yellow banks is the coolest, even after being bottled and stowed under our seats. The air is 96° Fahrenheit; the heat is very oppressive. Under us there are twenty-four feet water; in some places no bottom at one hundred and fifty-six feet. As the river rolls along straighter, we find more irregularity in the channel, and width, in some places, full one mile. On both banks we see small houses, with a few plantain and orange trees about them. These are the settlements of the descendants of the Portuguese. A canoe or two lay by the bank opposite each house. As we swiftly passed along, by the force of paddles—for the current was only one mile per hour—the bright moon rose up over the sea of foliage and lit our way to the town of Borba, on the 14th of October, 1852.

With a bundle of letters, I crawled up the steep bank to the house of Capitan Diogo, father of my friend Don Antonio. He ran his fingers through grey locks of hair, and laughed at the idea of a man's getting sick on such a voyage; gave me a horrible cup of tea made from the leaves of a bush found in the woods, which put me to sleep, as he was boasting of his extraordinary long travels up and down the rivers, and how he used to doctor himself. He was very cheerful until he counted the money brought from his son and partner, when he wanted to know "if that was all Antonio had made on his trip to Bolivia."

In the morning our baggage was brought up, and the soldiers turned over to the commander of police. Borba is a small town of three hundred inhabitants. Two rows of miserable wooden huts stand parallel with a most distressingly dilapidated church; bells, old and cracked, are hung under a small shed near the door. On the soil, whence the forest trees had been cleared, was a thick sod of small bladed grass, on which a few poor, slim-looking cows were pasturing. Large and fat hogs came grunting at the door. The hot sun had deadened the wool on the backs of a few sheep, and in its place, a fleece of straight, grey hair came out as a substitute. When man forces the animal intended by God for a cold climate into a hot one, a new nature comes to the poor, panting creature's relief, and puts upon it a coat of cool hair, instead of the hot woollen one.

The Spaniards have forced the hog so high up on the Andes that he suffers every time he raises his bristles, and dies out of place; while the Portuguese find it impossible to produce good mutton or wool on the hot plains of the Amazon. Indians, in a warm climate, grease or oil their naked skins as a protection from the sun, or that the rains may slide off the more easy; while those we saw on the frozen mountain tops, clothed themselves in wool, and greased their insides with mutton. _They_ appear to understand perfectly why the earth was provided with meat and clothing.

The inhabitants of Borba are principally negroes, who are very noisy, both in-doors and out; one-half of them are slaves. Those of Portuguese descent are extremely indolent. We observed few children of any color. The women wear their hair put up behind with large tortoise-shell combs, fancifully carved. Their dresses are very short-waisted, which gives them a more awkward appearance than they really deserve. The men wear trousers, and a shirt with the tail outside, which looks cool. Neither sex walk out except to church, when they dress in deep black cloth and silks, with gold ornaments and diamonds in profusion, brought from the head-waters of the Tapajos—or to the river to bathe, when they leave almost all wearing apparel at home.

The houses are of one-story and long; there are no doors hinged between the rooms, only those opening to the street. Curtains are hung from the upper part of the doorways to within a few inches of the brick floor. One day a fresh breeze blew into the windows, and the draft through the doors raised up all the curtains, when we discovered the family seated on a rug, spread on the floor, sewing. The girls were pretty, with large deep black eyes and hair; they quickly pulled their little bare feet under their dresses, and laughed heartily at the sudden surprise. Their hair was all down; hooks and eyes not fastened. The lady of the house was very kind on her side of the curtain, handed Quinine and Port wine on our side to the Capitan, who declared he could cure the fever in a short time. He insisted upon my joining him every night at ten in a hot supper; at the same hour in the morning at breakfast, and disapproved of sleeping—which was all we wanted, except to get out of the country as soon as possible. Our bread was made of Richmond flour, which is said to keep better in this climate than more northern flour from the United States. Whether this is owing to the mode of grinding the grain, or a difference in the character of the wheat itself, is to be tested. Turtle and chicken were the principal meats, with coffee and Portuguese red wine. The tobacco, which is produced on the banks of the Madeira, is said to be superior in quality to any in Brazil. It is made up in rolls, seven feet long and three inches in diameter, carefully wrapped up in a strip of rattan closely wound round it. Each staff contains two pounds; bundles of them are exported, with cacao, Brazil nuts, coffee, and sarsaparilla, to the Atlantic coast.

The trade of Borba is insignificant. According to Capitan Diogo's account, there are not more than two thousand people, Indians and all, inhabiting the banks of the Madeira, principally found near the stream; the country in the interior being a wilderness, tangled, matted, and in places swampy, where alligators bask in the sun on the beaten-down grass, and tigers roam freely after tapir tracks. At the small farms, near Borba, sugar-canes are raised and rum is manufactured—a greater quantity of the latter article being consumed in Brazil, the trade in it seems to be the most extensive of _all_ others. A few watermelons, oranges, and limes are raised, but less than are required for home consumption.

There were no men belonging to Borba to take us on. The authorities ordered the soldiers who came with us to go on. I regretted this for two reasons. One, that we were in hopes of getting rid of these impudent, half-savage free negroes, who refused positively to obey the authorities of the town. Another, that the commander of Beira wished me to send them back as soon as possible after we arrived here, as it would take them five months to regain their posts. But I found they were obliged to go as far as Barra do rio Negro, to purchase a little iron, which, with some guaraná, they had been ordered to carry to the fort, and to our surprise, the men wanted to go with us in preference to remaining in Borba, or returning to their usual duties. A larger boat was fitted out. Pedro, our pilot, was paid off, as his services were needed as boat-builder by the Capitan, who filled our basket with chickens, and gave us a water-cooler. Two large cakes, with a jar of preserved oranges, were sent to the boat by the wife of our friend Don Antonio, whose little child came to thank us for bringing letters from the father and husband. The kind old Capitan gave me particular instructions about the fever, which he had partly cured, while he nearly killed the patient. We pushed off with three Portuguese passengers.

The river was thirty feet above its present level, in the rainy season, and has now thirty feet depth off Borba. A vessel may lay moored to the bank of the river. There is stone at hand for building wharves if needed. The northeast trade-winds blow fresh, and we find a difficulty in making head-way; the current of the river has slackened to half a mile per hour. The winds blow directly in opposition to it, which baffles us considerably. In the evening, the wind falls away, and we push off from the bank where the boat is fastened, to hold what we have gained.

At some small huts we find Muras Indians sleeping, who seem very indifferent about selling a few thick-skinned, insipid oranges.

Among the heavy night dews are intermingled an equal portion of hungry musquitoes. The nights and mornings are beautifully clear.

By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.]

On the afternoon of the 29th of October, we crossed the river from the east to the west bank, being forced to do so, as the wind created a sea, and we lay uncomfortably moored to a snag; when half way over, our little craft struggled and dipped in the water. Richards bailed out manfully, while the men became frightened; we kept her bow angling the sea till she reached in safety the opposite shore, where the negroes, hearts returned to their places, but their eyes stretched wide open, as they looked back at the troubled stream, saying they never saw water behave so furious before.

During the 21st of October we lay all day by a sand island, unable to proceed until evening. When the wind died away, we paddled on by the light of the moon. As the negroes lifted their paddles out of the water, we dipped the thermometer in the Madeira for the last time, 88° Fahrenheit. Suddenly, the bow of our little canoe touched the deep waters of the mighty Amazon. A beautiful, apple-shaded island, with deep green foliage, and sandy beach encircling it, lies in the mouth of the great serpentine Madeira. The mouth opens by two channels. We find seventy-eight feet depth, near the western side, which is six hundred yards wide, with high banks, well wooded, but no marks or traces of civilization. A long sand-spit hung out over the lower mouth, like a great tongue, on which lay turtles and bird's eggs. The east side of the mouth was about three-quarters of a mile wide. A few houses stood on the back ground, where the country was more elevated towards the southeast.

Now that we are at the mouth of this magnificent stream, we find no deeply loaded vessels enter it. The value of the present foreign trade of South Peru and Bolivia may be worth ten millions of dollars per annum.

The distance from the foot of San Antonio falls to the mouth of the Madeira, is five hundred miles by the river. A vessel drawing six feet water may navigate this distance at any season of the year. A cargo from the United States could reach the foot of the falls, on the Madeira, within thirty days. By a common mule road, through the territory of Brazil, the goods might be passed from the lower to the upper falls on the Mamoré, in less than seven days, a distance of about one hundred and eighty miles; thence by steamboat, on that river and the Chaparé, a distance of five hundred miles to Vinchuta, in four days. Ten days more from the base of the Andes, over the road we travelled, would make fifty-one days passage from Baltimore to Cochabamba, or fifty-nine days to La Paz, the commercial emporium of Bolivia, where cargoes arrive generally from Baltimore in one hundred and eighteen days, by Cape Horn—often delayed on their way through the territory of Peru from the seaport of Arica. Goods by the Madeira route, sent over the Cordillera range to the Pacific coast, might get there one month before a ship could arrive from Europe on the eastern coast of the United States, by two oceans or the old route.