Alfred Russel Wallace
Travels on the Amazon
The next day the Indians went hunting, proposing to return early in the afternoon to proceed on, and I searched the woods after insects; but in these gloomy forests, and without any paths along which I could walk with confidence, I met with little success. In the afternoon some of them returned with two trumpeters (Psophia viridis) and a monkey, which I skinned; but as one Indian did not arrive till late, we could not continue our voyage till the next day. This night we were not so fortunate as the last, for just about dusk it began to rain, and our canoes were so small and so loaded with articles that must be kept dry, that we had little chance of making ourselves comfortable in them. I managed to crowd in somehow, terribly cramped, hoping the shower would soon pass over; but as it did not, and we had turned in without our suppers, I began to feel very hungry. It was pitch-dark, but I groped my way out, fumbled about for some wood, and with an Indian's assistance made up the fire, by which I sat with some palm-leaves over my head, and made a hearty meal of Jacu (a species of Penelope), which had been stewed in the afternoon. When I had finished, I was pretty well soaked; but to find or put on dry clothes was out of the question, so I again rolled myself up uncomfortably into a ball, and slept pretty well till daybreak, when it had just ceased raining, and a cup of hot coffee set me all right. We then resumed our journey, and this day had great difficulties to encounter: several sunken logs were passed over with great labour but at last there was a tree fallen over the stream, which the canoe could not possibly pass under, so we had to spend more than an hour cutting it through with axes which we carried for the purpose. About three in the afternoon we reached another stopping-place, and as we did not wish to have a repetition of last night's enjoyment, the Indians set to work making a little sleeping-hut. They had a long way to go for thatch, as there was only one palm-tree about a mile off, and this they cut down to supply us with a roof.
However, as we took the trouble to make a house, we had fine weather the three days we stayed, and did not want it. While here we had not much success. The hunters killed some deer, large birds, and monkeys, but did not meet with either of those I particularly wanted. Insects also, as at the former station, were very scarce, and though I got several curious small birds, I was not very well satisfied with the success of my expedition.
Accordingly, after three days, I set out on my return, the rest of the party proceeding further up into the forest in search of a better hunting-ground. On the second day we again reached the open river, and I much enjoyed the change from the dark forest, the damp foliage and decaying leaves and branches, to the bright sunshine and the blue sky, with the chirping birds and the gay flowers on the banks. Passing an estate of Senhor Calistro's on the opposite side of the river, I went on shore to shoot a large goat-sucker which was sitting on the ground in the sunshine, and succeeded in killing two, which I skinned on our way to São Jozé, where we arrived just in time for supper, and were heartily received by Senhor Calistro. After a few days more I left his hospitable roof, loaded with luxuries: eggs, tapioca, a roast pig, pine-apples, and sweets were sent to my canoe; and I bade adieu with regret to my kind host.
On our way down I again encountered the "piroróco" when I hardly expected it. We had gone in shore at a sugar estate to wait for the tide, when the agent told us we had better put out further into the stream, as the piroróco beat there. Though thinking he only wished to frighten us, we judged it prudent to do as he advised; and while we were expecting the tide to turn, a great wave came suddenly rushing along, and breaking on the place where our canoe had been at first moored. The wave having passed, the water was as quiet as before, but flowing up with great rapidity. As we proceeded down the river, we saw everywhere signs of its devastations in the uprooted trees which lined the shores all along, and the high mud-banks where the earth had been washed away. In winter, when the spring-tides are highest, the "piroróco" breaks with terrific force, and often sinks and dashes to pieces boats left incautiously in too shallow water. The ordinary explanations given of this phenomenon are evidently incorrect. Here there is no meeting of salt and fresh water, neither is the stream remarkably narrowed where it commences. I collected all the information I could respecting the depth of the river, and the shoals that occur in it. Where the bore first appears there is a shoal across the river, and below that, the stream is somewhat contracted. The tide flows up past Pará with great velocity, and entering the Guamá river comes to the narrow part of the channel. Here the body of tidal water will be deeper and flow faster, and coming suddenly on to the shoal will form a wave, in the same manner that in a swift brook a large stone at the bottom will cause an undulation, while a slow-flowing stream will keep its smooth surface. This wave will be of great size, and, as there is a large body of water in motion, will be propagated onwards unbroken. Wherever there are shallows, either in the bed or on the margin of the river, it will break, or as it passes over slight shoals will be increased, and, as the river narrows, will go on with greater rapidity. When the tides are low, they rise less rapidly, and at the commencement a much less body of water is put in motion: the depth of the moving water is less, and does not come in contact with the bottom in passing over the shoal, and so no wave is formed. It is only when the body of water in motion, as the tide first flows in, is of sufficient depth, that it comes in contact with the shoal, and is, as it were, lifted up by it, forming a great rolling wave.
The above diagram will show more clearly the manner in which I suppose the wave to be formed. A A represents the level of the water when the tide is out; D D the bottom of the river; B B the depth to which the water is put in motion at low tides, not reaching so deep as the bottom of the river at the shoal C, at which time no wave, but a swift current only, is formed; C´ C the depth to which the water is set in motion at spring-tides, when the mass, coming in contact with the bottom at C, is lifted up, and forms a wave at E, which is propagated up the river. It appears, therefore, that there must exist some peculiar formation of the bottom, and not merely a narrowing and widening in a tidal river to produce a bore, otherwise it would occur much more frequently than it does. In the Mojú and Acarrá the same phenomenon is said to take place; and, as these rivers all run parallel to each other, it is probable that the same bed of rock running across produces a somewhat similar shoal in all of them. It may also easily be seen why there is only one wave, not a succession of them; for, when the first wave has passed, the water has risen so much that the stream now flows clear over the shoal, and is therefore not affected by it.
On arriving at Pará I again took up my abode at Nazaré. I had found in this voyage that my canoe was far too unsteady and confined to think of going up the Amazon in it, so I returned it to the owner, who had warranted it steady and adapted for my purpose, but, after much trouble and annoyance, I was obliged to lose the £10 I had given in part payment. In the beginning of July my younger brother H. came out to Pará to assist me; and by the return of the vessel in which he arrived, I sent off my collections of fish and insects up to this time.
We had the good fortune one day to fall in with a small flock of the rare and curious bell-bird (Chasmorhynchus carunculatus), but they were on a very thick lofty tree, and took flight before we could get a shot at them. Though it was about four miles off in the forest, we went again the next day, and found them feeding on the same tree, but had no better success. On the third day we went to the same spot, but from that time saw them no more. The bird is of a pure white colour, the size of a blackbird, has a broad bill, and feeds on fruits. From the base of the bill above grows a fleshy tubercle, two to three inches long, and as thick as a quill, sparingly clothed with minute feathers: it is quite lax, and hangs down on one side of the bird's head, not stuck up like a horn, as we see it placed in some stuffed specimens. This bird is remarkable for its loud clear ringing note, like a bell, which it utters at midday, when most other birds are silent.
A few days after, we found feeding on the same tree some beautiful yellow parrots. They are called here imperial parrots, and are much esteemed because their colours are those of the Brazilian flag—yellow and green. I had long been seeking them, and was much pleased when my brother shot one. It is the Conurus Carolineæ, and is figured by Spix in his expensive work on the birds of Brazil.
CHAPTER VI
SANTAREM AND MONTEALEGRE
Leave Pará—Enter the Amazon—Its Peculiar Features—Arrive at Santarem—The Town and its Inhabitants—Voyage to Montealegre—Mosquito Plague and its Remedy—Journey to the Serras—A Cattle Estate—Rocks, Picture Writings, and Cave—The Victoria regia—Mandiocca Fields—A Festa—Return to Santarem—Beautiful Insects—Curious Tidal Phenomenon—Leave Santarem—Obydos—Villa Nova—A Kind Priest—Serpa—Christmas Day on the Amazon.
We now prepared for our voyage up the Amazon; and, from information we obtained of the country, determined first to go as far as Santarem, a town about five hundred miles up the river, and the seat of a considerable trade. We had to wait a long time to procure a passage, but at length with some difficulty agreed to go in a small empty canoe returning to Santarem.
We were to have the hold to ourselves, and found it very redolent of salt-fish, and some hides which still remained in it did not improve the odour. But voyagers on the Amazon must not be fastidious, so we got our things on board, and hung up our hammocks as conveniently as we could for the journey.
Our canoe had a very uneven deck, and, we soon found, a very leaky one, which annoyed us much by wetting our clothes and hammocks; and there were no bulwarks, which, in the quiet waters of the Amazon, are not necessary. We laid in a good stock of provisions for the voyage, and borrowed some books from our English and American friends, to help to pass away the time; and in the beginning of August, left Pará with a fine wind, which soon carried us beyond the islands opposite the city into the wide river beyond. The next day we crossed the little sea formed opposite the mouth of the Tocantíns, and sailed up a fine stream till we entered again among islands, and soon got into the narrow channel which forms the communication between the Pará and Amazon rivers. We passed the little village of Breves, the trade of which consists principally of india-rubber, and painted basins and earthenware, very brilliantly coloured. Some of our Indians went on shore while we stayed for the tide, and returned rather tipsy, and with several little clay teapot-looking doves, much valued higher up the country.
We proceeded for several days in those narrow channels, which form a network of water—a labyrinth quite unknown, except to the inhabitants of the district. We had to wait daily for the tide, and then to help ourselves on by warping along shore, there being no wind. A small montaria was sent on ahead, with a long rope, which the Indians fastened to some projecting tree or bush, and then returned with the other end to the large canoe, which was pulled up by it. The rope was then taken on again, and the operation repeated continually till the tide turned, when we could not make way against the current. In many parts of the channel I was much pleased with the bright colours of the leaves, which displayed all the variety of autumnal tints in England. The cause, however, was different: the leaves were here budding, instead of falling. On first opening they were pale reddish, then bright red, brown, and lastly green; some were yellow, some ochre, and some copper-colour, which, together with various shades of green, produced a most beautiful appearance.
It was about ten days after we left Pará that the stream began to widen out and the tide to flow into the Amazon instead of into the Pará river, giving us the longer ebb to make way with. In about two days more we were in the Amazon itself, and it was with emotions of admiration and awe that we gazed upon the stream of this mighty and far-famed river. Our imagination wandered to its sources in the distant Andes, to the Peruvian Incas of old, to the silver mountains of Potosi, and the gold-seeking Spaniards and wild Indians who now inhabit the country about its thousand sources. What a grand idea it was to think that we now saw the accumulated waters of a course of three thousand miles; that all the streams that for a length of twelve hundred miles drained from the snowclad Andes were here congregated in the wide extent of ochre-coloured water spread out before us! Venezuela, Columbia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, and Brazil—six mighty states, spreading over a country far larger than Europe—had each contributed to form the flood which bore us so peacefully on its bosom.
We now felt the influence of the easterly wind, which during the whole of the summer months blows pretty steadily up the Amazon, and enables vessels to make way against its powerful current. Sometimes we had thunder-storms, with violent squalls, which, as they were generally in the right direction, helped us along the faster; and twice we ran aground on shoals, which caused us some trouble and delay. We had partly to unload the canoe into the montaria, and then, by getting out anchors in the deep water, managed after some hard pulling to extricate ourselves. Sometimes we caught fish, which were a great luxury for us, or went on shore to purchase fruit at some Indian's cottage.
The most striking features of the Amazon are—its vast expanse of smooth water, generally from three to six miles wide; its pale yellowish-olive colour; the great beds of aquatic grass which line its shores, large masses of which are often detached, and form floating islands; the quantity of fruits and leaves and great trunks of trees which it carries down, and its level banks clad with lofty unbroken forest. In places the white stems and leaves of the Cecropias give a peculiar aspect, and in others the straight dark trunks of lofty forest-trees form a living wall along the water's edge. There is much animation, too, on this giant stream. Numerous flocks of parrots, and the great red and yellow macaws, fly across every morning and evening, uttering their hoarse cries. Many kinds of herons and rails frequent the marshes on its banks, and the large handsome duck (Chenalopex jubata) is often seen swimming about the bays and inlets. But perhaps the most characteristic birds of the Amazon are the gulls and terns, which are in great abundance: all night long their cries are heard over the sandbanks, where they deposit their eggs, and during the day they constantly attracted our attention by their habit of sitting in a row on a floating log, sometimes a dozen or twenty side by side, and going for miles down the stream as grave and motionless as if they were on some very important business. These birds deposit their eggs in little hollows in the sand, and the Indians say that during the heat of the day they carry water in their beaks to moisten them and prevent their being roasted by the glowing rays of the sun. Besides these there are divers and darters in abundance, porpoises are constantly blowing in every direction, and alligators are often seen slowly swimming across the river.
On the north bank of the Amazon, for about two hundred miles, are ranges of low hills, which, as well as the country between them, are partly bare and partly covered with brush and thickets. They vary from three hundred to one thousand feet high, and extend inland, being probably connected with the mountains of Cayenne and Guiana. After passing them there are no more hills visible from the river for more than two thousand miles, till we reach the lowest ranges of the Andes: they are called the Serras de Paru, and terminate in the Serras de Montealegre, near the little village of Montealegre, about one hundred miles below Santarem. A few other small villages were passed, and here and there some Brazilian's country-house or Indian's cottage, often completely buried in the forest. Fishermen were sometimes seen in their canoes, and now and then a large schooner passing down the middle of the river, while often for a whole day we would not pass a house or see a human being. The wind, too, was seldom enough for us to make way against the stream, and then we had to proceed by the laborious and tedious method of warping already described.
At length, after a prolonged voyage of twenty-eight days, we reached Santarem, at the mouth of the river Tapajoz, whose blue, transparent waters formed a most pleasing contrast to the turbid stream of the Amazon. We brought letters of introduction to Captain Hislop, an old Scotchman settled here many years. He immediately sent a servant to get a house for us, which after some difficulty was done, and hospitably invited us to take our meals at his table as long as we should find it convenient. Our house was by no means an elegant one, having mud walls and floors, and an open tiled roof, and all very dusty and ruinous; but it was the best we could get, so we made ourselves contented. As we thought of going to Montealegre, three days' voyage down the river, before settling ourselves for any time at Santarem, we accepted Captain Hislop's kind invitation as far as regarded dinner, but managed to provide breakfast and tea for ourselves.
The town of Santarem is pleasantly situated on a slope at the mouth of the Tapajoz, with a fine sandy beach, and a little hill at one end, where a mud fort commands the approach from the Amazon. The houses are neat and the streets regular, but, owing to there being no wheeled vehicles and but few horses, they are overgrown with grass. The church is a handsome building with two towers, and the houses are mostly coloured white or yellow, with the doors and windows painted bright green. There is no quay or wharf of any kind, everything being landed in montarias, so that you can seldom get on shore without a wet shoe and stocking. There is a fine beach extending for some miles above and below the town, where all the washing of the place is done, the linen being beautifully bleached on the hot sand. At all hours of the day are plenty of bathers, and the Negro and Indian children are quite amphibious animals. At the back of the town are extensive sandy campos, scattered over with myrtles, cashews, and many other trees and bushes, and beyond are low hills, some bare, and others covered with thick forest.
The trade here is principally in Brazil-nuts, sarsaparilla—which is the best on the Amazon,—farinha, and salt-fish,—some of which articles are obtained from the Mundrucús, an industrious tribe of Indians inhabiting the Tapajoz. There are here, as in Pará, many persons who live an idle life, entirely supported by the labours of a few slaves which they have inherited. The local executive government consists of a "Commandante Militar," who has charge of the fort and a dozen or two of soldiers; the "Commandante dos trabalhadores," who superintends the Indians engaged in any public service; the "Juiz de direito," or civil and criminal judge of the district; the "Delegardo de policia," who has the management of the passport office, the police, etc., the "Vicario," or priest, and a few subordinate officers. In the evening some of these, and a few of the principal traders, used generally to meet in front of Captain Hislop's house, which was in an airy situation overlooking the river, where they would sit and smoke, take snuff, and talk politics and law for an hour or two.
Besides the Captain, there were two Englishmen in Santarem, who had resided there many years, and were married to Brazilian women. A day or two after our arrival they invited us to take a trip up to a pretty stream which forms a small lake a mile or two above the town. We went in a neat canoe, with several Indians and Negros, and plenty of provisions, to make an agreeable picnic. The place was very picturesque, with dry sands, old trees, and shady thickets, where we amused ourselves shooting birds, catching insects, and examining the new forms of vegetation which were everywhere abundant. The clear, cool water invited us to a refreshing bathe, after which we dined, and returned home by moonlight in the evening.
I was acquainted with the "Juiz de direito," having met him in Pará, and he now very kindly offered to lend me an excellent canoe to go to Montealegre, and to give me introductions to his friends there; but he had no men to spare, so these I had to obtain as I could. This was, as is always the case here, a difficult matter. Captain H. went with me to the Commandante, who promised to give me three Indians, but after waiting a whole week we got only two; the Juiz, however, kindly lent me one with his canoe, and with these we started. The first night we stayed at a cacao-plantation, where we got some excellent fresh fish. In the morning we took a walk among the cacao-trees, and caught numbers of a butterfly (Didonis biblis), which, though a common South American species, we had never found either at Santarem or Pará; nor did I ever after see it until I reached Javíta, near the sources of the Rio Negro. As another instance of the peculiar distribution of these insects, I may mention that during four years' collecting I saw the beautiful Epicalia Numilius only twice,—once at Pará, and once at Javíta, stations two thousand miles apart.
In the afternoon, just as we reached the mouth of the little river that flows by Montealegre, a violent storm came on suddenly, producing a heavy sea, and nearly capsizing our boat, which the men did not very well know how to manage; but, after being some time in considerable danger, we got safely into smooth water, and, after about two hours' rowing up a winding stream, reached the village. The banks were mostly open, grassy, and half-flooded, with clumps of trees at intervals. Near the village was a range of high rocks, of a fine red and yellow colour, which we afterwards found to be merely indurated clay, in some places very hard, in others soft and friable: they were clothed with wood to their summits, and had a very picturesque appearance.
The village of Montealegre is situated on a hill about a quarter of a mile from the water's edge. The ascent to it is up a shallow ravine, and the path is entirely covered with deep, loose sand, which makes the walk a very laborious one. On each side are numbers of large cactus-plants, of the branched candelabrum form, and twenty to thirty feet high: they grow in immense masses, having great woody stems as thick as a man's body, and were quite a novel feature in the landscape. The village itself forms a spacious square, in which the most conspicuous object is the skeleton of a large and handsome church of dark sandstone, which was commenced about twenty years ago, when the place was more populous and thriving, and before the revolutions which did so much injury to the province; but there is little prospect of its ever being finished. The present church is a low, thatched, barn-like edifice, and most of the houses are equally poor in their appearance. There are no neat enclosures or gardens,—nothing but weeds and rubbish on every side, with sometimes a few rotten palings round a corral for cattle.
The trade of this place is in cacao, fish, calabashes, and cattle. The cacao is grown on the low lands along the banks of the rivers. It is here planted on cleared ground fully exposed to the sun, and does not seem to thrive so well as when in the shade of the partially cleared forest, which is the plan we had seen adopted in the Tocantíns. When an Indian can get a few thousand cacao-trees planted, he passes an idle, quiet, contented life: all he has to do is to weed under the trees two or three times in the year, and to gather and dry the seeds. The fruit of the cacao-tree is of an oblong shape, about five inches long, and with faint longitudinal ribs. It is of a green colour, but turns yellow as it ripens, and it grows on the stem and larger branches by a short strong stalk, never on the smaller twigs; it grows so firmly, that it will never fall off, but, if left, will entirely rot away on the tree. The outer covering is hard and rather woody. Within is a mass of seeds, which are the cacao-nuts, covered with a pure white pulp, which has a pleasant sub-acid taste, and when rubbed off in water and sweetened, forms an agreeable and favourite drink. In preparing the cacao, this pulp is not washed off, but the whole is laid in the sun to dry. This requires some care, for if wetted by rain or dew it moulds and is spoilt: on large cacao plantations they have a drying-frame running on rollers, so that it can be pushed under a shed every night or on the approach of rain. The price of good cacao is about 3s. for an arroba (thirty-two pounds).
The fish are the pirarucú, which abound in all the lakes here, and give plenty of employment to the Indians in the dry season. The cattle estates are situated at the base of the adjacent serras, where there is a scanty pasture, but in the dry season the marshes which extend to the Amazon afford abundance of herbage. The calabashes, or "cuyas," are made in great quantities, and exported to Pará and all parts of the Amazon. They are very neatly finished, scraped thin, and either stained of a shining black or painted in brilliant colours and gilt. The designs are fanciful, with sometimes figures of birds and animals, and are filled up with much taste and regularity. The Indian women make the colours themselves from various vegetable juices or from the yellow earth, and they are so permanent that the vessels may be constantly wetted for a long time without injury. There is no other place on the whole Amazon where painted calabashes are made with such taste and brilliancy of colour.
We brought a letter of introduction to Senhor Nunez, a Frenchman from Cayenne, who has a small shop in the village; and he soon procured us an empty house, to which we had our things carried. It consisted of two good parlours, several small sleeping-rooms, a large verandah, and a closed yard behind. We were warned that the mosquitoes were here very annoying, and we soon found them so, for immediately after sunset they poured in upon us in swarms, so that we found them unbearable, and were obliged to rush into our sleeping-rooms, which we had kept carefully closed. Here we had some respite for a time, but they soon found their way in at the cracks and keyholes, and made us very restless and uncomfortable all the rest of the night.
After a few days' residence we found them more tormenting than ever, rendering it quite impossible for us to sit down to read or write after sunset. The people here all use cow-dung burnt at their doors to keep away the "praga," or plague, as they very truly call them, it being the only thing that has any effect. Having now got an Indian to cook for us, we every afternoon sent him to gather a basket of this necessary article, and just before sunset we lighted an old earthen pan full of it at our bedroom door, in the verandah, so as to get as much smoke as possible, by means of which we could, by walking about, pass an hour pretty comfortably. In the evening every house and cottage has its pan of burning dung, which gives rather an agreeable odour; and as there are plenty of cows and cattle about, this necessary of life is always to be procured.
We found the country here an undulating, sandy plain, in some places thickly covered with bushes, in others with larger scattered trees. Along the banks of the streams were some flat places and steep banks, all thickly clothed with wood, while at a distance of ten or twelve miles were several fine rocky mountains, on one of which was a curious and conspicuous pillar of rock, with a flat overhanging cap, something like a tall mushroom. The cactus before mentioned was everywhere abundant, and often in the most magnificent and lofty masses. Pine-apples were found growing wild in large beds in the thickets, and the cashew was also general. On the rocky slopes above the river were numerous springs gushing out, where on the moistened rock grew curious ferns and mosses and pretty creeping plants. These shady groves formed our best collecting-ground for insects. Here we first found the beautiful indigo-blue butterfly, the Callithea Leprieurii, sitting on leaves in the shade, and afterwards more abundantly on stems from which a black gummy sap was exuding. Here were also many trogons and jacamars, and a curious creeper, with a long sickle-shaped bill (Dendrocolaptes sp.).
We much wished to visit the serras, which daily seemed more inviting; and the account we had heard of the Indian picture-writings which exist there increased our curiosity. We accordingly borrowed a small montaria of Senhor Nunez, as we had to go five or six miles by water to a cattle estate situated at the foot of the mountain. Our canoe was furnished with a mat sail, made of strips of the bark of a large water-plant, and as soon as we got away from the village we hoisted it and were carried briskly along: it was rather nervous work at times, as the sail was far too heavy for the canoe, and rendered it very unsteady whenever there came a little extra puff of wind. Numerous divers and darters were swimming in the river or seated upon trees on its banks. We tried to shoot some, but without effect, as these birds are so active in the water that even when wounded they dive and swim beneath it so rapidly as to render all attempt to capture them fruitless. We then entered a narrower branch of the stream, which we soon found to be much impeded by water-plants growing in large floating masses. We had now no wind, and had to paddle, till the weeds blocked up the channel so completely that we could get on no further. Our Indian then went ashore, and cut two long poles with forked ends, and with these we commenced pushing on the canoe by means of the great masses of weeds, which were so thick and solid as to afford a tolerable hold to the fork. Now and then we would emerge into clear water, and could row a little among pretty Utricularias and Pontederias. Then, again, we would enter into a mass of weeds and tall grass, completely filling up the channel and rising above our heads, through which we almost despaired to make our way; the grass, too, cut the hands severely if it merely brushed against them. On the banks was now to be seen a vast extent of flat, grassy campo, half water and half land, which in the rainy season is a complete lake. After forcing our way with great labour for several miles, we at length reached the cattle estate, where we were kindly received by the owner, to whom we had a note of introduction.
