Chapter IV: The Tocantins and Cametá (2)

_September 26th._—At length we got clear of the islands, and saw once more before us the sea-like expanse of waters which forms the mouth of the Tocantins. The river had now sunk to its lowest point, and numbers of fresh-water dolphins were rolling about in shoaly places. There are here two species, one of which was new to science when I sent specimens to England; it is called the Tucuxí (Steno tucuxi of Gray). When it comes to the surface to breathe, it rises horizontally, showing first its back fin, then draws an inspiration, and dives gently down, head foremost. This mode of proceeding distinguishes the Tucuxí at once from the other species, which is called Bouto or porpoise by the natives (Inia Geoffroyi of Desmarest). When this rises the top of the head is the part first seen; it then blows, and immediately afterwards dips head downwards, its back curving over, exposing successively the whole dorsal ridge with its fin. It seems thus to pitch heels over head, but does not show the tail fin. Besides this peculiar motion, it is distinguished from the Tucuxí by its habit of generally going in pairs. Both species are exceedingly numerous throughout the Amazons and its larger tributaries, but they are nowhere more plentiful than in the shoaly water at the mouth of the Tocantins, especially in the dry season. In the Upper Amazons a third pale flesh-coloured species is also abundant (the Delphinus pallidus of Gervais). With the exception of a species found in the Ganges, all other varieties of dolphin inhabit the sea exclusively. In the broader parts of the Amazons, from its mouth to a distance of fifteen hundred miles in the interior, one or other of the three kinds here mentioned are always heard rolling, blowing, and snorting, especially at night, and these noises contribute much to the impression of sea-wide vastness and desolation which haunts the traveller. Besides dolphins in the water, frigate birds in the air are characteristic of this lower part of the Tocantins. Flocks of them were seen the last two or three days of our journey, hovering above at an immense height. Towards night, we were obliged to cast anchor over a shoal in the middle of the river to await the ebb tide. The wind blew very strongly, and this, together with the incoming flow, caused such a heavy sea that it was impossible to sleep. The vessel rolled and pitched until every bone in our bodies ached with the bumps we received, and we were all more or less sea-sick. On the following day we entered the Anapú, and on the 30th September, after threading again the labyrinth of channels communicating between the Tocantins and the Moju, arrived at Pará.

I will now give a short account of Cametá, the principal town on the banks of the Tocantins, which I visited for the second time, in June, 1849; Mr. Wallace, in the same month, departed from Pará to explore the rivers Guamá and Capim. I embarked as passenger in a Cametá trading vessel, the _St. John_, a small schooner of thirty tons burthen. I had learnt by this time that the only way to attain the objects for which I had come to this country was to accustom myself to the ways of life of the humbler classes of the inhabitants. A traveller on the Amazons gains little by being furnished with letters of recommendation to persons of note, for in the great interior wildernesses of forest and river the canoe-men have pretty much their own way; the authorities cannot force them to grant passages or to hire themselves to travellers, and therefore, a stranger is obliged to ingratiate himself with them in order to get conveyed from place to place. I thoroughly enjoyed the journey to Cametá; the weather was again beautiful in the extreme. We started from Pará at sunrise on the 8th of June, and on the 10th emerged from the narrow channels of the Anapu into the broad Tocantins. The vessel was so full of cargo that there was no room to sleep in the cabin; so we passed the nights on deck. The captain or supercargo, called in Portuguese _cabo_, was a mameluco, named Manoel, a quiet, good-humoured person, who treated me with the most unaffected civility during the three days’ journey. The pilot was also a mameluco, named John Mendez, a handsome young fellow, full of life and spirit. He had on board a wire guitar or viola, as it is here called; and in the bright moonlight nights, as we lay at anchor hour after hour waiting for the tide, he enlivened us all with songs and music. He was on the best of terms with the cabo, both sleeping in the same hammock slung between the masts. I passed the nights wrapped in an old sail outside the roof of the cabin. The crew, five in number, were Indians and half-breeds, all of whom treated their two superiors with the most amusing familiarity, yet I never sailed in a better managed vessel than the _St. John._

In crossing to Cametá we had to await the flood-tide in a channel called Entre-as-Ilhas, which lies between two islands in mid- river, and John Mendez, being in good tune, gave us an extempore song, consisting of a great number of verses. The crew lay about the deck listening, and all joined in the chorus. Some stanzas related to me, telling how I had come all the way from “Inglaterra,” to skin monkeys and birds and catch insects; the last-mentioned employment of course giving ample scope for fun. He passed from this to the subject of political parties in Cametá; and then, as all the hearers were Cametaenses and understood the hits, there were roars of laughter, some of them rolling over and over on the deck, so much were they tickled. Party spirit runs high at Cametá, not merely in connection with local politics, but in relation to affairs of general concern, such as the election of members to the Imperial Parliament, and so forth. This political strife is partly attributable to the circumstance that a native of Cametá, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, had been in almost every election, one of the candidates for the representation of the province. I fancied these shrewd but unsophisticated canoe-men saw through the absurdities attending these local contests, and hence their inclination to satirise them; they were, however, evidently partisans of Dr. Angelo. The brother of Dr. Angelo, Joao Augusto Correia, a distinguished merchant, was an active canvasser. The party of the Correias was the Liberal, or, as it is called throughout Brazil, the Santa Luzia faction; the opposite side, at the head of which was one Pedro Moraes, was the Conservative, or Saquarema party. I preserved one of the stanzas of the song, which, however, does not contain much point; it ran thus:—

Ora paná, tana paná!, pana taná, Joao Augusto hé bonito e homem pimpao, Mas Pedro hé feio e hum grande ladrao, (Chorus) Ora paná, etc.

John Augustus is handsome and as a man ought to be, But Peter is ugly and a great thief. (Chorus) Ora paná, etc.

The canoe-men of the Amazons have many songs and choruses, with which they are in the habit of relieving the monotony of their slow voyages, and which are known all over the interior. The choruses consist of a simple strain, repeated almost to weariness, and sung generally in unison, but sometimes with an attempt at harmony. There is a wildness and sadness about the tunes which harmonise well with, and in fact are born of, the circumstances of the canoe-man’s life: the echoing channels, the endless gloomy forests, the solemn nights, and the desolate scenes of broad and stormy waters and falling banks. Whether they were invented by the Indians or introduced by the Portuguese it is hard to decide, as many of the customs of the lower classes of Portuguese are so similar to those of the Indians that they have become blended with them. One of the commonest songs is very wild and pretty. It has for refrain the words “Mai, Mai” (“Mother, Mother”), with a long drawl on the second word. The stanzas are quite variable; the best wit on board starts the verse, improvising as he goes on, and the others join in the chorus. They all relate to the lonely river life and the events of the voyage—the shoals, the wind, how far they shall go before they stop to sleep, and so forth. The sonorous native names of places, Goajará, Tucumandúba, etc., add greatly to the charm of the wild music. Sometimes they bring in the stars thus:—

A lua está sahindo, Mai, Mai! A lua está sahindo, Mai, Mai! As sete estrellas estao chorando, Mai, Mai! Por s’acharem desamparados, Mai, Mai!

The moon is rising, Mother, Mother! The moon is rising, Mother, Mother! The seven stars (Pleiades) are weeping, Mother, Mother! To find themselves forsaken, Mother, mother!

I fell asleep about ten o’clock, but at four in the morning John Mendez woke me to enjoy the sight of the little schooner tearing through the waves before a spanking breeze. The night was transparently clear and almost cold, the moon appeared sharply defined against the dark blue sky, and a ridge of foam marked where the prow of the vessel was cleaving its way through the water. The men had made a fire in the galley to make tea of an acid herb, called _erva cidreira_, a quantity of which they had gathered at the last landing-place, and the flames sparkled cheerily upwards. It is at such times as these that Amazon travelling is enjoyable, and one no longer wonders at the love which many, both natives and strangers, have for this wandering life. The little schooner sped rapidly on with booms bent and sails stretched to the utmost; just as day dawned, we ran with scarcely slackened speed into the port of Cameta, and cast anchor.

I stayed at Cametá until the 16th of July, and made a considerable collection of the natural productions of the neighbourhood. The town in 1849 was estimated to contain about 5000 inhabitants, but the municipal district of which Cametá is the capital numbered 20,000; this, however, comprised the whole of the lower part of the Tocantins, which is the most thickly populated part of the province of Pará. The productions of the district are cacao, india-rubber, and Brazil nuts. The most remarkable feature in the social aspect of the place is the hybrid nature of the whole population, the amalgamation of the white and Indian races being here complete. The aborigines were originally very numerous on the western bank of the Tocantins, the principal tribe having been the Camútas, from which the city takes its name. They were a superior nation, settled, and attached to agriculture, and received with open arms the white immigrants who were attracted to the district by its fertility, natural beauty, and the healthfulness of the climate. The Portuguese settlers were nearly all males, the Indian women were good-looking, and made excellent wives; so the natural result has been, in the course of two centuries, a complete blending of the two races. There is now, however, a considerable infusion of negro blood in the mixture, several hundred African slaves having been introduced during the last seventy years. The few whites are chiefly Portuguese, but there are also two or three Brazilian families of pure European descent. The town consists of three long streets, running parallel to the river, with a few shorter ones crossing them at right angles. The houses are very plain, being built, as usual in this country, simply of a strong framework, filled up with mud, and coated with white plaster. A few of them are of two or three stories. There are three churches, and also a small theatre, where a company of native actors at the time of my visit were representing light Portuguese plays with considerable taste and ability. The people have a reputation all over the province for energy and perseverance; and it is often said that they are as keen in trade as the Portuguese. The lower classes are as indolent and sensual here as in other parts of the province, a moral condition not to be wondered at in a country where perpetual summer reigns, and where the necessities of life are so easily obtained. But they are light-hearted, quick-witted, communicative, and hospitable. I found here a native poet, who had written some pretty verses, showing an appreciation of the natural beauties of the country, and was told that the Archbishop of Bahia, the primate of Brazil, was a native of Cametá. It is interesting to find the mamelucos displaying talent and enterprise, for it shows that degeneracy does not necessarily result from the mixture of white and Indian blood. The Cametaenses boast, as they have a right to do, of theirs being the only large town which resisted successfully the anarchists in the great rebellion of 1835-6. Whilst the whites of Pará were submitting to the rule of half-savage revolutionists, the mamelucos of Cametá placed themselves under the leadership of a courageous priest, named Prudencio; they armed themselves, fortified the place, and repulsed the large forces which the insurgents of Pará sent to attack the place. The town not only became the refuge for all loyal subjects, but was a centre whence large parties of volunteers sallied forth repeatedly to attack the anarchists in their various strongholds.

The forest behind Cametá is traversed by several broad roads, which lead over undulating ground many miles into the interior. They pass generally under shade, and part of the way through groves of coffee and orange trees, fragrant plantations of cacao, and tracts of second-growth woods. The narrow brook-watered valleys, with which the land is intersected, alone have remained clothed with primæval forest, at least near the town. The houses along these beautiful roads belong chiefly to Mameluco, mulatto, and Indian families, each of which has its own small plantation. There are only a few planters with larger establishments, and these have seldom more than a dozen slaves. Besides the main roads, there are endless bye-paths which thread the forest and communicate with isolated houses. Along these the traveller may wander day after day without leaving the shade, and everywhere meet with cheerful, simple, and hospitable people.

Soon after landing, I was introduced to the most distinguished citizen of the place, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, whom I have already mentioned. This excellent man was a favourable specimen of the highest class of native Brazilians. He had been educated in Europe, was now a member of the Brazilian Parliament, and had been twice president of his native province. His manners were less formal, and his goodness more thoroughly genuine, perhaps, than is the rule generally with Brazilians. He was admired and loved, as I had ample opportunity of observing, throughout all Amazonia. He sacrificed his life in 1855, for the good of his fellow- townsmen, when Cameta was devastated by the cholera; having stayed behind with a few heroic spirits to succour invalids and direct the burying of the dead, when nearly all the chief citizens had fled from the place. After he had done what he could, he embarked for Pará but was himself then attacked with cholera, and died on board the steamer before he reached the capital. Dr. Angelo received me with the usual kindness which he showed to all strangers. He procured me, unsolicited, a charming country house, free of rent, hired a mulatto servant for me, and thus relieved me of the many annoyances and delays attendant on a first arrival in a country town where even the name of an inn is unknown. The rocinha, thus given up for my residence, belonged to a friend of his, Senhor José Raimundo Furtado, a stout florid-complexioned gentleman, such a one as might be met with any day in a country town in England. To him also I was indebted for many acts of kindness.

The rocinha was situated near a broad grassy road bordered by lofty woods, which leads from Cametá to the Aldeia, a village two miles distant. My first walks were along this road. From it branches another similar but still more picturesque road, which runs to Curimá and Pacajá, two small settlements, several miles distant, in the heart of the forest. The Curimá road is beautiful in the extreme. About half a mile from the house where I lived, it crosses a brook flowing through a deep dell by means of a long rustic wooden bridge. The virgin forest is here left untouched; numerous groups of slender palms, mingled with lofty trees overrun with creepers and Parásites, fill the shady glen and arch over the bridge, forming one of the most picturesque scenes imaginable. A little beyond the bridge there was an extensive grove of orange and other trees, which yielded me a rich harvest. The Aldeia road runs parallel to the river, the land from the border of the road to the indented shore of the Tocantins forming a long slope which was also richly wooded; this slope was threaded by numerous shady paths, and abounded in beautiful insects and birds. At the opposite or southern end of the town, there was a broad road called the Estrada da Vacaria; this ran along the banks of the Tocantins at some distance from the river, and continued over hill and dale, through bamboo thickets and palm swamps, for about fifteen miles.

At Cametá I chanced to verify a fact relating to the habits of a large hairy spider of the genus Mygale, in a manner worth recording. The species was M. avicularia, or one very closely allied to it; the individual was nearly two inches in length of body, but the legs expanded seven inches, and the entire body and legs were covered with coarse grey and reddish hairs. I was attracted by a movement of the monster on a tree-trunk; it was close beneath a deep crevice in the tree, across which was stretched a dense white web. The lower part of the web was broken, and two small birds, finches, were entangled in the pieces; they were about the size of the English siskin, and I judged the two to be male and female. One of them was quite dead, the other lay under the body of the spider, not quite dead, and was smeared with the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the monster. I drove away the spider and took the birds, but the second one soon died. The fact of species of Mygale sallying forth at night, mounting trees, and sucking the eggs and young of humming-birds, has been recorded long ago by Madame Merian and Palisot de Beauvois; but, in the absence of any confirmation, it has come to be discredited. From the way the fact has been related, it would appear that it had been merely derived from the report of natives, and had not been witnessed by the narrators. Count Langsdorff, in his _Expedition into the Interior of Brazil_, states that he totally disbelieved the story. I found the circumstance to be quite a novelty to the residents hereabout. The Mygales are quite common insects: some species make their cells under stones, others form artistical tunnels in the earth, and some build their dens in the thatch of houses. The natives call them Aranhas carangueijeiras, or crab-spiders. The hairs with which they are clothed come off when touched, and cause a peculiar and almost maddening irritation. The first specimen that I killed and prepared was handled incautiously, and I suffered terribly for three days afterwards. I think this is not owing to any poisonous quality residing in the hairs, but to their being short and hard, and thus getting into the fine creases of the skin. Some Mygales are of immense size. One day I saw the children belonging to an Indian family, who collected for me with one of these monsters secured by a cord round its waist, by which they were leading it about the house as they would a dog.

Bird-killing spider (Mygale avicularia) attacking finches.

The only monkeys I observed at Cameta were the Couxio (Pithecia Satanas)—a large species, clothed with long brownish-black hair—and the tiny Midas argentatus. The Couxio has a thick bushy tail, and the hair of the head, which looks as if it had been carefully combed, sits on it like a wig. It inhabits only the most retired parts of the forest, on the terra firma, and I observed nothing of its habits. The little Midas argentatus is one of the rarest of the American monkeys; indeed, I have not heard of its being found anywhere except near Cametá, where I once saw three individuals, looking like so many white kittens, running along a branch in a cacao grove; in their motions, they resembled precisely the Midas ursulus already described. I saw afterwards a pet animal of this species, and heard that there were many so kept, and that they were esteemed as great treasures. The one mentioned was full-grown, although it measured only seven inches in length of body. It was covered with long, white, silky hairs, the tail being blackish, and the face nearly naked and flesh-coloured. It was a most timid and sensitive little thing. The woman who owned it carried it constantly in her bosom, and no money would induce her to part with her pet. She called it Mico. It fed from her mouth and allowed her to fondle it freely, but the nervous little creature would not permit strangers to touch it. If any one attempted to do so, it shrank back, the whole body trembling with fear, and its teeth chattered whilst it uttered its tremulous, frightened tones. The expression of its features was like that of its more robust brother, Midas ursulus; the eyes, which were black, were full of curiosity and mistrust, and were always kept fixed upon the person who attempted to advance towards it.

In the orange groves and other parts, humming-birds were plentiful, but I did not notice more than three species. I saw one day a little pigmy belonging to the genus Phæthornis in the act of washing itself in a brook; perched on a thin branch, one end of which was under water. It dipped itself, then fluttered its wings and pruned its feathers, and seemed thoroughly to enjoy itself alone in the shady nook which it had chosen—a place overshadowed by broad leaves of ferns and Heliconiæ. I thought, as I watched it, that there was no need for poets to invent elves and gnomes whilst Nature furnishes us with such marvellous little sprites ready at hand.

My return-journey to Pará afforded many incidents characteristic of Amazonian travelling. I left Cametá on the 16th of July. My luggage was embarked in the morning in the _ Santa Rosa_, a vessel of the kind called cuberta, or covered canoe. The cuberta is very much used on these rivers. It is not decked, but the sides forward are raised and arched over so as to admit of cargo being piled high above the water-line. At the stern is a neat square cabin, also raised, and between the cabin and covered forepart is a narrow piece decked over, on which are placed the cooking arrangements. This is called the tombadilha or quarterdeck, and when the canoe is heavily laden, it goes underwater as the vessel heels over to the wind. There are two masts, rigged with fore and aft sails. The foremast has often besides a main and top sail. The forepart is planked over at the top, and on this raised deck the crew work the vessel, pulling it along, when there is no wind, by means of the long oars already described.

As I have just said, my luggage was embarked in the morning. I was informed that we should start with the ebb-tide in the afternoon; so I thought I should have time to pay my respects to Dr. Angelo and other friends, whose extreme courtesy and goodness had made my residence at Cametá so agreeable. After dinner the guests, according to custom at the house of the Correias, walked into the cool verandah which overlooks the river; and there we saw the _Santa Rosa_, a mere speck in the offing miles away, tacking down river with a fine breeze. I was now in a fix, for it would be useless attempting to overtake the cuberta, and besides the sea ran too high for any montaria. I was then told that I ought to have been aboard hours before the time fixed for starting, because when a breeze springs up, vessels start before the tide turns; the last hour of the flood not being very strong. All my precious collections, my clothes, and other necessaries were on board, and it was indispensable that I should be at Pará when the things were disembarked. I tried to hire a montaria and men, but was told that it would be madness to cross the river in a small boat with this breeze. On going to Senhor Laroque, another of my Cametá friends, I was relieved of my embarrassment, for I found there an English gentleman, Mr. Patchett of Pernambuco, who was visiting Pará and its neighbourhood on his way to England, and who, as he was going back to Pará in a small boat with four paddles, which would start at midnight, kindly offered me a passage. The evening from seven to ten o’clock was very stormy. About seven, the night became intensely dark, and a terrific squall of wind burst forth, which made the loose tiles fly over the housetops; to this succeeded lightning and stupendous claps of thunder, both nearly simultaneous. We had had several of these short and sharp storms during the past month. At midnight, when we embarked, all was as calm as though a ruffle had never disturbed air, forest, or river. The boat sped along like an arrow to the rhythmic paddling of the four stout youths we had with us, who enlivened the passage with their wild songs. Mr. Patchett and I tried to get a little sleep, but the cabin was so small and encumbered with boxes placed at all sorts of angles, that we found sleep impossible. I was just dozing when the day dawned, and, on awakening, the first object I saw was the _Santa Rosa_, at anchor under a green island in mid-river. I preferred to make the remainder of the voyage in company of my collections, so bade Mr. Patchett good-day. The owner of the _Santa Rosa_, Senhor Jacinto Machado, whom I had not seen before, received me aboard, and apologised for having started without me. He was a white man, a planter, and was now taking his year’s production of cacao, about twenty tons, to Pará. The canoe was very heavily laden, and I was rather alarmed to see that it was leaking at all points. The crew were all in the water diving about to feel for the holes, which they stopped with pieces of ray and clay, and an old negro was baling the water out of the hold. This was a pleasant prospect for a three-day voyage! Senhor Machado treated it as the most ordinary incident possible: “It was always likely to leak, for it was an old vessel that had been left as worthless high and dry on the beach, and he had bought it very cheap.”

When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey and at night reached the mouth of the Anapú. I wrapped myself in an old sail, and fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day, we threaded the Igarapé-mirim, and on the 19th descended the Mojú. Senhor Machado and I by this time had become very good friends. At every interesting spot on the banks of the Mojú, he manned the small boat and took me ashore. There are many large houses on this river belonging to what were formerly large and flourishing plantations, but which, since the Revolution of 1835-6, had been suffered to go to decay. Two of the largest buildings were constructed by the Jesuits in the early part of the last century. We were told that there were formerly eleven large sugar mills on the banks of the Mojú, whilst now there are only three. At Burujúba, there is a large monastery in a state of ruin; part of the edifice, however, was still inhabited by a Brazilian family. The walls are four feet in thickness. The long dark corridors and gloomy cloisters struck me as very inappropriate in the midst of this young and radiant nature. They would be better if placed on some barren moor in Northern Europe than here in the midst of perpetual summer. The next turn in the river below Burujúba brought the city of Pará into view. The wind was now against us, and we were obliged to tack about. Towards evening, it began to blow stiffly, the vessel heeled over very much, and Senhor Machado, for the first time, trembled for the safety of his cargo; the leaks burst out afresh when we were yet two miles from the shore. He ordered another sail to be hoisted in order to run more quickly into port, but soon afterwards an extra puff of wind came, and the old boat lurched alarmingly, the rigging gave way, and down fell boom and sail with a crash, encumbering us with the wreck. We were then obliged to have recourse to oars; and as soon as we were near the land, fearing that the crazy vessel would sink before reaching port, I begged Senhor Machado to send me ashore in the boat with the more precious portion of my collections.