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and tried men, most of whom had been on short expeditions with McTurk, and who therefore understood his ways and were aware that when he said a thing he meant it, that faithfulness and good conduct would be rewarded, and laziness and bad behaviour as surely punished. They nearly all understood a little English, but they preferred a sort of “pigeon” English peculiar to McTurk, and which always reminded me of a stage Dutchman’s language. The strongest and most intelligent Indian in each boat is the captain, who, seated in the stern, uses his paddle to direct the course. Next to him in rank is the bowman, who has to keep a sharp look out for rocks and shoals.
Each boat was laden with provisions,[37] which were limited as far as possible to absolute necessaries, as after leaving the boats we knew that the difficulties of transportation would be very great. In addition, there was our own clothing—a very slender supply—guns, ammunition, trading articles, pots and pans, &c., everything, certainly, reduced to a minimum, but nevertheless, forming sufficiently heavy loads.
Before starting, I cast longing eyes at two or three luxurious tentboats, provided with awnings, lockers, and curtains, all of which were denied us; but before many days I recognised the superiority of our own, as the long drought had shallowed the river, and it would have been impossible for the deep tent-boats to have ascended some of the cataracts. Taking our seats in the centre of our respective boats, McTurk gave the word, and in an hour the strong paddles of our crews had placed a considerable distance between us and the settlement, and we were really on the way to Roraima. At one time we feared that our start would prove inauspicious, as the strong wind blowing up the river raised such waves that once or twice we were almost swamped, but gradually we gained the opposite coast, and under the lee of the land entered comparatively smooth water.
Owing to the lateness of our departure we soon had to camp, and spying an old shed near the water’s edge, we landed, slung up our
hammocks, and there passed the night. To a traveller, I know of no cheaper luxury than a hammock. On a former long journey through the tropics I had burdened myself with a folding bed, thinking from very slight experience that to sleep in a hammock would be impossible. But now I discovered that a well-slung hammock, in which you have placed yourself diagonally, not parallel, so that your head and feet are too elevated, is a very delightful place of rest. By day a pleasant lounge, by night a clean bed even in dirty hovels, unscalable by insects, light and compact, easily put up and easily taken down, a hammock becomes an indispensable companion, especially dear when travelling in countries where even the most necessary articles have to be limited. We could hardly have selected a more likely spot for those pests of Guiana, namely, vampires and jiggers. The former frequent the clearings around sheds and houses, and in the dead of night when all are asleep—they never pay their visits as long as even one person in a party is awake—they fasten on an exposed toe or some part of the foot and cup the sleeper, who awakes faint and exhausted. Horses and cattle suffer equally from their attacks, and fowls frequently drop dead from their perches, their life blood drained to the very last drop. As a provision against these unpleasant visitors I had provided myself with a long double blanket, so that under no circumstances could a forgetful toe exhibit itself outside its covering.
A jigger (Pulex penetrans), as everyone knows, is a toe-loving creature, and makes its nest under the nails, and, if allowed, lays its eggs. As they swarm in every deserted hut and in every old Indian shed, and in sand, it is impossible to avoid them; morning and evening a strict examination of the feet by a competent Indian is absolutely necessary when travelling in the interior. In spite of great care and watchfulness on our part a search was seldom unrewarded, but we never approached the number once collected by Sir Robert Schomburgh, of whom it is related that a negress once extracted eighty-three from his feet at one sitting.
But, notwithstanding jiggers and vampires, the nights on the Mazaruni are always enjoyable because there are no mosquitoes; in
many parts of Guiana, especially on the Pomeroon River, these plagues are so bad that cattle have been driven wild by them, and are always obliged to be shut up at night in mosquito-proof sheds; there, also, a mosquito net is invariably included in the agreement between master and labourer. Here we were free from them, and a patent hammock mosquito netting that had been given me by a kind friend in Georgetown was devoted to other uses.
Next morning we made an early start, and soon passed Coria island, on which a Dutch fort once stood, and the last that we saw of civilization was the little mission-house of St. Edward’s, picturesquely situated on the opposite bank of the mainland. Above this point we entered that labyrinth of islands which, together with the innumerable rapids and cataracts, form the chief features of the Mazaruni River for nearly one hundred miles. Only one of our crew had ever ascended the river before, and, as he did not appear to remember much about it, we determined to keep to the main channel, as being the safest, out of the numerous ones into which it was divided. This was no easy matter, as, on account of the lowness of the water, and the great breadth—between three and four miles— of the river, it was often very difficult to decide which was the main channel, and sometimes we found our passage barred by shallows and had to return and seek another.
We ascended two rapids, and then came to the rather steep falls of Kosterbroke. A sad interest is attached to this place, as it was here that in 1863 seven young men lost their lives. A pleasure party, consisting of visitors from Trinidad and others who had been engaged in a cricket match at Georgetown, visited the settlement and ascended the Mazaruni as far as these rapids; whilst descending them, the tent-boat capsized and seven of its occupants were drowned. Report says that a midshipman, who formed one of the party, was swept away and given up for lost, but was discovered later on sitting on a rock in mid channel, drying a five-pound note in the sun.
The ascent of these cataracts affords a very lively and exciting scene. All hands, except the steersman, leave the boat, a long stout hawser is fastened to her bow, and by sheer strength she is hauled up through the rushing waters. Some of the crew wade by the side of the boat, to keep her from the rocks, others swim or dive across from adjacent points to where the best purchase can be secured, and the rest, holding the rope, pull with might and main straight up the current. A charming variety exists in these rapids; sometimes they may be ascended by taking advantage of the different currents and paddling with great power diagonally across the channel; others have short but steep falls, and others again extend for a long distance in a series of steep inclines, whilst the volume of pouring water in a few is so great that boats have to be carried round them overland. At the Warimambo Rapids, which we reached soon after passing Kosterbroke, we had to unload the boats and make a portage of about two hundred yards. A lot of negro woodcutters, who sat grinning at us on the rocky banks, informed us that it would be impossible for us to haul the boat up those rapids, but our men worked splendidly, and in about two hours we had loaded the boats and were off again.
The river here presented an extraordinary appearance from its great breadth and the innumerable rocks which cropped up in every direction. Many of these rocks were covered with the pretty pink flower of some water-plant. The islands and the low mainland were covered with virgin forest, whose intense green was relieved at intervals by the blazing crimson spikes of the kara-kara[38] or the various tinted canopies of the giant moras. The mora[39] may be termed the oak of the tropical forests of Guiana, as it far exceeds other trees in dimensions; its lofty wide-spreading branches, with glossy foliage changing from purple to red, add a distinctive charm to the scenery, but a deceptive one, as frequently we would exclaim. “At last there is some rising ground,” which on approach proved to be only two or three moras towering above the rest of the forest trees. Besides the moras, we were continually passing many varieties of the valuable timber with which Guiana is so plentifully
supplied. Now a green-heart[40] or a splendid purple-heart, occasionally a “letter-wood” tree and numerous “ballis,” such as mora balli—balli meaning wood, and when attached to a word signifies akin to: itaballi, hubaballi, silverballi, &c.[41]
McTurk from practical experience in superintending Government wood-cutting was quite an authority on timber, and cast many longing eyes on grand trunks that would have squared from twenty to twenty-eight inches, with a length of from seventy to eighty feet. Overhanging the river, were also many shrubs of the “mahoe,”[42] whose bright yellow flowers contrasted with climbing purple petrœas and crimson passion-flowers. But the bright colours were mere islets in the surrounding sea of green, and it was necessary to observe closely in order to note the varying forms of vegetable life.
After the Warimambo, we came almost immediately on some very steep rapids, but which fortunately had sufficient depth of water to allow of the boats being hauled up without unloading. Here one of the crew nearly lost his life, as he was swept off his feet by the strong current, and only just caught the rope in time to save himself from being carried over a dangerous eddy, in which, as he was a weak swimmer, he would probably have been sucked under and drowned. He attributed his safety to the strictness with which the Indians had observed the proper respect due to a trogon that had flown over our heads in the morning; they have a superstition that, if on setting out on a journey they should turn their backs to this species of birds, ill luck will surely follow.
That evening we camped under some fine green-hearts that grew on the banks, which were here higher than we had hitherto seen. At this period camping was a very short business with us, as owing to the prevailing fine weather no shelter was necessary. On landing, some of the crew collected fire-wood and the cook prepared his provisions; two or three cut away the underbrush and slung up our hammocks on suitable trees apart from the others, and after they had hung their own the camp was finished. As McTurk had been unable to obtain at Georgetown a cook who was willing to work and
carry loads like the other men, we were entirely at the mercy of the Indians, whose ideas of cookery were of the most primitive description. To them their rations of salt fish, rice, and fat bacon were luxuries, and a small alligator they considered a prize, but McTurk and I often agreed that our very plain fare would have been improved by even moderate cooking. Of canned meats and relishes, we had to be very sparing, but of flour we had an unlimited supply. But here again we failed in having any means of rendering the flour palatable, although it perforce formed the chief item of our meals. It was prepared in two ways; in the first, the flour was kneaded into a cake of dough, roasted on the embers and called a “bake;” in the second it was kneaded into a ball of dough, boiled in a pot and called a “dumpling;” under either name it was equally leathery and indigestible, and only with butter, of which we had a very small supply, and brown sugar, was it possible to eat it. Later on in our journey we made a slight improvement in the bakes and dumplings by adding some of “Eno’s Fruit Salt,” which had been recommended to us as containing valuable properties for a cooling drink in case of fever, thereby causing the flour to rise and the cakes to become lighter. It was certainly a novel baking-powder, but it succeeded. In future years should a traveller discover one of these “bakes” on the banks of the river, he will be puzzled about its origin, and will probably conclude that it is the fossil remains of some extinct species of shell-fish.
The crew took it in turns to cook for themselves, whilst the smartest of them became our own particular “chef,” and a strong active young fellow, called “Charlie,” acted as our trenchman. Charlie could turn his hand to anything, from building a house to making a basket, and was always ready and willing; he and his duplicate, Sammy, were the ones who worked hardest in and out of the water; they carried the heaviest loads, they shot the most game, were most skilful in raising shelters, and were the two who were never ill. Sometimes in the night a rain storm would come on, and Charlie was always ready with tarpaulins to stretch over our hammocks.
The nights were usually warm, but the mornings were chilly, and an early plunge into the river was like a warm bath, so great was the difference between the temperature of the air and water. And those morning and evening swims in the clear brown water—brown from the colouring matter of the wallaba[43] trees—of the broad Mazaruni were delightful, especially when contrasted with the tiny bucketful and the narrow bath-room of the hotel at Georgetown!
CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW HOUR—MARABUNTAS—SINKING OF THE BURA—ROCK FORMATIONS—ARA HUMMING-BIRD—FALLS OF YANINZAEC—
JABIRU—CABUNI RIVER—SHOOTING FISH WITH ARROWS— PACU—AN INDIAN CAMP—GREEN-HEART BREAD—INDIAN LIFE A PAIWORIE FEAST—DUCKLARS—CURRI-CURRIS—SUN BITTERNS.
“Thirteen o’clock,” was the extraordinary and invariable announcement with which McTurk roused the slumbering Indians at daybreak. The origin of such an unwonted hour has always been wrapped in mystery to me, but it sufficed that the men understood it, and, a few minutes after the cry had resounded through the camp, coffee was ready, hammocks taken down, boats loaded, and we commenced another day of river travel. Our nights under the purple-hearts had been cool and pleasant, and had prepared us for a day which turned out to be one of incessant falls and rapids. The crews were hardly ever out of the water, and the sun poured down with such power that even the well-tanned backs of the Indians were scorched and blistered.
Between the wooded islands acres of rock rose two or three feet above the water, revealing the most curious formations and indentations, varying in size and shape from perfectly rounded bullet moulds to smooth oval cauldrons. About half-past ten we stopped for breakfast, and whilst it was being prepared I wandered around the island with my gun in search of game, but found nothing. I was not quite unrewarded however, as on passing under a low-hanging bough I received a sharp and painful nip, as if a pair of red hot pincers had taken a piece of flesh out of my back. At first I thought a snake must have stung me, but to my relief on looking back I saw
it must have been done by a “marabunta,” whose nest was hanging near.
The sting of these Guiana wasps is extremely painful, and it was predicted that fever would probably set in; although it caused a good deal of inflammation, however, I was none the worse, but avoided marabunta nests in future. When paddling, the Indians were continually annoyed by large bumble-bees, which buzzed about their heads, and sometimes followed the boats for more than a mile; I do not know what attracted them, but as they did not trouble me I could afford to laugh at the frantic efforts of the men to drive them off.
That evening we camped on the left bank of the mainland near a creek, whose cold stream was very refreshing after the warm river water we had been drinking. Here McTurk and some of the crew suffered from slight feverish attacks, but a good dose of quinine set them up again, and next morning they were ready to proceed. On this day we met with an accident which might have occasioned a very serious loss. Two of the boats had been hauled safely up a long rapid, down which the water was rushing with great velocity, but the large one—the Bura-buraloo—was struck by a wave and commenced to sink; the crew, instead of slackening the rope, held on, and only loosened it when it was too late, as the boat drifted a short way down and sank. Fortunately it was not deep, and in less time than it takes to relate we had reached her, and rapidly unloading conveyed her contents to the neighbouring rocks. Then commenced such a drying as probably had never been witnessed on the Mazaruni before. Tarpaulins were laid, and the wet rice, soaked biscuit, and drowned peas spread over them.
The flour was not much damaged, as the water had made a cake round the inside of the barrel which kept the rest dry. The greatest loss we sustained was in the brown sugar, as not more than half was saved, and that in a semi-liquid state. This was a misfortune, as the Indians were intensely fond of sugar, and it formed part of their daily rations; indeed without it their wretchedly made coffee would have
been barely drinkable. Knives, forks, and spoons were swept away, and had I not had a small travelling case with another set we should have been badly off. Our guns, clothes, and hammocks happened to be in the boat, and all were in a sad plight, but the sun shone so hot and strong that, though it drove us from the rocks to the shade of an island, everything gradually dried, and after a detention of about four hours we were enabled to proceed. Our camping ground that night was near some rocks whose formation was more extraordinary than that of any we had hitherto seen, resembling the bones of mammoths, and the fossil teeth and jaws of gigantic animals of the old world.
The following day, after ascending a few rapids and traversing the wide stretches of almost still water that lay between them, we stopped for breakfast at a pretty spot where a dry water course between two islands formed a dark cool lane, overhung by the meeting branches. Wandering up this I disturbed a beautiful Ara humming-bird,[44] which I recognised by its two long tail feathers, and the flash of red and golden green. He flew from a dead tree— which had been split down the middle, probably by some wandering Indians to obtain honey, as I found the glutinous remnants of an enormous comb—and then returned to it, but I could not catch another glimpse of him, although I searched long and ardently, as I was anxious to obtain a specimen of this gorgeous little creature.
Near this place we shot some fine macaws, whose long scarlet and blue tail feathers were quickly made into head-dresses by the crew. With the exception of parrots and cranes, we had not seen up to the present time a great variety of birds; the most numerous were orioles, trogons, and toucans. The latter were a never-failing source of amusement, as, with slow and jerky flight like that of a woodpecker, the ungainly birds crossed and recrossed the river, uttering their monotonous cry, “Tucáno, tucáno.” The commonest of this species was the large one called by the Indians “bouradi,” whose enormous bill is of the most brilliant and variegated tints of red, yellow, blue, and black. The crested cassique[45] was another
common bird, and the only one which uttered musical sounds; it was very delightful to hear one of them pouring forth his rich and ventriloquial notes, and with raised crest and outspread golden tail singing love-songs to his mate as she swung in her aerial hammock.
Some of the pouch nests of these birds that we saw must have been nearly three feet in length, and, as they are invariably suspended from the ends of most slender boughs, they are safe from the rapacious maws of monkeys and other marauders. As a further precaution against danger, it is said that they always build on trees where the dreaded marabuntas have their nests, and in return for the protection thus afforded feed their young on the larvæ of their patron insects.
We were now approaching what we had heard were the most formidable cataracts in the river, namely, those of Yaninzaec, and hardly had we with difficulty dragged the boats up one set of rapids before we heard a roar of water that betokened a great fall. A turn in the river then brought us in full view of a most picturesque scene. Forming a crescent were five separate cataracts, fifteen or twenty feet in height, and divided from one another by wooded islets. The river rushed with great force over the rocky barriers, and the foam flakes were carried past us in large white masses, or before reaching us were caught in the back eddies and lay like snow-banks under the green bushes.
When we first appeared, a great jabiru[46]—or negro cap, as it is sometimes called on account of its black head and neck—was stalking about under the falls; and above, on a ledge of rock overhung by the golden flowers of the cedar-bush, three white egrets stood and looked in amazement at our unexpected intrusion, then gathering up their long legs flapped off to a distant tree.
After a lengthened investigation as to how we could reach the top of the falls, we discovered the Indian “portage;” so, after landing, we unloaded the boats, carried the baggage over the rocks for a distance of about one hundred yards, and then camped. That night I was awakened by the patter, patter of heavy rain on the leaves
overhead, and discovered that McTurk—who always provided for my comfort before he thought of his own—had stretched the only available tarpaulin over my hammock, and that he himself was crouching under a tree trunk trying to keep his hammock dry. On these journeys a dry hammock is of the utmost importance, as, if it once gets wet, it takes a long time to dry, and fever is the inevitable result of sleeping in a damp one.
The rain forced us to commence our day’s work even earlier than usual, and so by seven o’clock we had carried the boats over the “portage” on our shoulders, had loaded them, and were again wading through the rapids above the falls of Yaninzaec. Shortly afterwards we passed on our left the Cabuni River, which here empties itself into the Mazaruni, and then another baggage portage became necessary. Then two more cataracts were overcome, and on the following day we arrived at a fine stretch of river comparatively free from rapids. On that day we were gladdened by the first sight of hills, but still the scenery remained tame and monotonous. Only here and there was the all-pervading green, stained by the young darkcrimson leaves of the wallaba trees, and but for the slim matapolo palms scattered in places, and the hot sun, we might have been anywhere rather than in the tropics.
Only when we landed and on penetrating the forest could we appreciate the strange forms and luxuriant growth of the tropical vegetation. Then we saw the great moras and Bertholletias strangled in the folds of some gigantic creeper, and with their branches laden with arums and the curiously indented leaves of the pothos family; twisted bush-ropes and lianes of all descriptions linked the trees together and chained them to the earth, and while the ground was free from heavy growth, a chaos of intermingling plants and foliage formed a dense canopy overhead. In many places on the river, and especially near the rapids, we had seen the dams which the roving Indians had made for the purpose of catching fish, but we had not seen any of the natives; now, however, we knew that we were at last approaching them, for on the rocks around one of the dams we
discovered some freshly beaten hai-arí roots which had been used for poisoning the water.
Fishing with poison is a favourite method with the Indians, as they thereby obtain the greatest quantity of fish with the least possible exertion. Dams are built on the rocky ledges with loose stones, and with spaces left open for the fish to enter; the roots of the hai-arí—a leguminous creeper—are beaten on the rocks with heavy clubs until they are in shreds, which are then soaked in water; the yellow acrid juice thus obtained is finally poured into the ponds after the inlets have been stopped. In a few minutes the fish appear on the surface, floating aimlessly about as if intoxicated, and are either shot with arrows, or knocked on the head with clubs. Enormous numbers are sometimes killed in this manner. The flesh of the fish so destroyed, receives no more deleterious qualities than does that of the forest game which the natives shoot with arrows poisoned with the deadly “wourali.” For preservation, a barbecue is erected, and the fish are smoked over a fire.
In the open river, other means have to be adopted for obtaining fish, and the usual method is with the bow and arrow. Indians are not only wonderfully quick in seeing fish, but also possess great skill in shooting them, and, when it is remembered that allowance has to be made for refraction, the resistance of the water, and the movements of the fish, it is surprising how successful some of them are. McTurk, who was no mean performer himself with the bow, told me of most extraordinary shots that he had witnessed. Amongst our crew we had no very brilliant marksmen, and we had to depend in a great measure for our supplies on the Indians whom we chanced to meet. Seven or eight different kinds of arrows are used, and each has its own particular name. One of the most curious has its iron or bone point only slightly fixed to the shaft, and to it is attached a long string which is neatly wound round the stem. When the fish is hit the point detaches itself, the line runs off, the floating arrow shows the position of the fish, and the Indian at once gives chase. All the
arrows are very long, some that we used being between five and six feet in length, and made from the stem of a certain reed.[47]
Several delicately flavoured fish are found in the Mazaruni, but the most delicious of all is the pacu,[48] which feeds on a species of lacis that grows abundantly near falls and rapids. They are very shy, but their red gold colour renders them easily discernible in the clear pools. Owing to the extent of water-poisoning which had preceded our ascent of the river, we had only obtained one of these fish, but now, as we were approaching the Indian camp, we hoped to obtain a good supply of both fresh and smoked.
Suddenly we espied a solitary Indian paddling with might and main to get away from us; we gave chase, but in his light woodskin he speedily distanced us. Then at the end of a long stretch of river we saw what appeared to be a line of animals swimming across. It proved to be a string of canoes, whose occupants, frightened at the appearance of the white men’s boats, had left their fishing ground and were making all haste to their camp. This we soon reached, and found about twenty men, women, and children squatting on the rocks like brown monkeys, and evidently very nervous about the strangers. They proved to be Acawais, and could certainly not be complimented on their good looks. They were short of stature, had olive complexions, and hair like a black mop. The women added to their charms by a few pot-hooks tattooed into the corners of the mouth, and by staining their limbs with blue stripes, which at a distance gave the idea of tight-fitting drawers. But their dress was strictly one of imagination, a few square inches of bead apron— queyou—taking the place of the old original cestus. The men were attired in the buck-skin suits in which they were born, with some pieces of straw in their nose and ears, and instead of a bead apron they wore a strip of calico called a “lap.”
The poor things looked very thin and half-starved, and we learn that owing to the drought the cassava crop had been a poor one, and they had been reduced to eating a wretched sort of bread made
from the grated nuts of the green-heart, and now had descended the river on a fishing expedition. Moore in one of his poems asks:
“Know you what ’midst such fertile scenes That awful voice of famine means?”
To such a question these Indians might answer “yes.” A more improvident race does not exist; as long as they can satisfy their immediate wants they are content. They seldom live on the banks of the large rivers, but build their huts—two or three of which often constitute a village—near some retired creek. There they plant a little cassava, and when that is exhausted they pack their household goods on their backs, and, as they express it, “walk” i.e., they wander about wherever fancy leads them, pitching their camp sometimes for a day, and sometimes for weeks in one place. In an indolent fashion they will hunt and fish, and, when they have no game, live on wild berries; occasionally when they have anything to sell they will paddle leisurely down to the Settlements and paddle back in the same easy manner. Time is no object to them, except when a paiworie[49] feast and dance are on the tapis. To be present on such an occasion they will travel great distances, in an incredibly short time, they will ascend and descend rivers, cross mountains, penetrate forests, and die from exhaustion rather than forego the effort necessary to obtain a drink of paiworie. Our friends had no fresh fish, but we obtained a few dried pacu, averaging five or six pounds each, and some fish arrows, of which we were in want, in exchange for fish-hooks and a little salt. Indians are very fond of salt, and as they can only obtain it in trade it forms a good article of barter.
We did not camp that evening until we had placed some distance between ourselves and the natives, as, when the latter think that anything is to be obtained from white men, they will follow and keep near them as long as they can, although the direction may be the opposite to that in which they themselves were originally travelling.
The next day the river was freer than usual from rapids, and we were enabled to replenish our larder, which up to the present had been sadly deficient in fresh meat. Some golden red howling monkeys—baboons the men called them—were our first acquisition, and the chase they gave us through the forest, though very amusing, covered us with garrapatas—large ticks—and the equally annoying bête rouge. The latter insect is of a bright scarlet, and so small as hardly to be distinguished, but it causes great irritation, and if the skin is scratched it ulcerates, and like all other sores and wounds in the tropics is difficult to heal. Then we shot two young alligators each about three feet in length; it was strange that although on the Mazaruni we saw several baby alligators, yet we never saw any large ones. Of game birds we bagged a paui, curassow,[50] and two maroudis, a species of wild turkey. The Indians say that the maroudi obtained its bare red throat by swallowing a fire-stick which it mistook for a glow-worm.
Two sorts of water-birds, were very plentiful, namely: ducklars[51] and curri-curris.[52] We did not often fire at the former, unless we were very badly off for fresh meat, as, irrespective of their ability to carry off an incredible amount of the largest shot, they are fishy, illflavoured birds. But the curri-curris, so called from their peculiar cry, are by no means to be despised, and probably being aware of their eatable properties generally disappeared into the thick bush, just out of range. These birds are of an olive and bronze colour, feed snipelike on worms, and have a heavy flight, similar to that of an owl.
Sometimes we startled a little sun-bittern, and occasionally we crept near enough to watch him in his motions whilst fascinating an insect; then his body would writhe and twist, his slender neck undulating like a serpent’s folds, but all the time with head quiet and eye steadily fixed on his victim; finally there was a quick darting movement, and there was no more insect. Our day’s sport was brought to a conclusion by spearing a very large electric eel. It was Saturday night, and according to custom McTurk’s cry of “Grog-oh” speedily brought the crew to receive their weekly glass—dose they
called it—of brandy, and this well-earned medicine infused such life into their tired bodies that we were kept awake for a long time by the monotonous strains of an old fiddle with which they were “making dance.”
The next day we remained in our camp below Turesie cataract, and as somebody shot a deer, and somebody else a maroudi, we had a grand Sunday dinner consisting of:
SOUP. Macaw.
FISH. Smoked pacu and Electric eel.
SIDE DISHES. Curried monkey, Maroudi à la Turesie.
JOINT. Haunch of Venison.
BAKES. Dumplings, Sea biscuit. Coffee and Eno’s Fruit Salt adlib.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BUSH-MASTER—LABARRI—CAMOODI WOOD ANTS—TURESIE —A PACU HUNT—CASHEW TREE—WOODSKINS—PIRAI— SINGING FISH—INDIAN DANCE—BEADS—FASHION—A RIVER BEND—VIEW OF HILLS—SNIPE—INDIAN MYTHOLOGY WANT A DOG—TABLE MOUNTAINS—MERUME RIVER—COURSE OF THE MAZARUNI.
Towards midnight I was aroused by a low rustling sound in the bushes; as I glanced around, my eye fell on an old mora tree just opposite, and at the foot of my hammock, there on the grey trunk I plainly saw the shadow of a snake’s head and neck. From its position, there could be no doubt that it was close beside me, and almost over my head, its body being half hidden by the branches of one of the trees in which it was coiled. As I watched, the head and neck moved towards me and drew back in slow undulating movements, the forked tongue shot out and seemed almost to touch me. I did not dare to move, and hardly to breathe, as the reptile seemed only waiting for my slightest motion in order to strike. The minutes that I lay there with my eyes fixed on the horrid shadow seemed like hours; all sorts of thoughts passed across my brain; had I the nightmare? could the curried monkey have disagreed with me? I was wet with perspiration and at last could stand it no longer, but, slowly disentangling my feet from the blanket, threw myself forward and sprang to the ground. Seizing my gun, I pointed it to where the snake must have been, but there was no appearance of one, and a careful search revealed nothing. Then I went to bed again, and there in front of me, on the tree, was the same writhing form and shooting tongue. I put up hand, and its shadow almost grasped the neck of the creature; then I raised myself, and looking up saw my enemy. A projecting twig and a few leaves gently swayed by the breeze were all that remained of my snake, but the shadow they cast was so
exactly that of a serpent that when I pointed it out to McTurk he fully believed for a moment that it was one.
The forests of Guiana are well furnished with everything that a traveller can want in the shape of beast or insect, and in snakes they are especially prolific. Of these, the “bush-master”[53] is the most dreaded, and as its name implies, is lord of the woods. In colour it is as brilliant as its bite is venomous. The “labarri”[54] is equally poisonous, but is not so aggressive as the “bush-master.” The “camoodi”—a boa-constrictor—is the largest of all the snakes, and the stories of their enormous size and strength would be incredible to any one who had not travelled in Guiana. A gentleman in Georgetown solemnly assured me that once when he was out shooting in the interior, with a party of seven others, they stopped to rest after a long walk and all sat down on a falling trunk; all at once it began to move, and what they had imagined to be the trunk of a tree proved to be an immense “camoodi,” which glided slowly into the forest without being fired at by any of the amazed spectators. The “water-camoodi”[55] is even larger and more dangerous than the land species.
It was destined that our night after the shadow-snake incident should not pass wholly destitute of the pleasures of camp life, as, on putting on my hat before starting, I found that it was wreathed round and round with the clay tunnels of the wood-ant, thousands of which had taken advantage of its position, at the foot of a tree, to erect on it their covered ways before they climbed up aloft. Charlie was highly amused at the appearance of the hat, but soon rid it of its inhabitants by holding it over a fire.
After ascending the falls of Turesie we noticed a long reed performing strange evolutions in the water; this the Indians knew to be an arrow with a pacu at the end of it, which had been shot and then lost by a native. We at once gave chase, and a most amusing hunt followed. Whenever we approached it, one of the crew plunged into the river, and immediately the arrow disappeared to come up again fifty yards off in another direction. This was repeated until the
poor fish was tired out and at last landed. Another excitement was in store for us, as hardly had the pacu been caught before we saw in the distance a deer swimming across the river. Away went the three boats in full cry, but the light canoe soon led the chase, and it was a pretty sight to see her shoot through the water amidst a shower of rainbows raised by the splendidly sweeping paddles. Now she gains on the deer, no, the animal will reach the shore; to shoot would be useless, as the body would sink; now he flags, as the distance he has already swum is great, the “Akoora” flies through the water, the crew are near enough to hear the panting of the victim, and the next minute is his last. He proved to be a fine young buck, and was a great acquisition to our stores. I am afraid I did not want him to escape, until he had been captured; but I did then, it seemed so hard that he should have chosen the moment of our arrival for his swim.
Soon after our deer chase we saw a splendid cashew[56] tree loaded with purple-red fruit. This was a treat not to be neglected, and so in a quarter of an hour the tree was down and stripped. The fruit was tart, but extremely refreshing and of a pleasant flavour. Near this place I took a shot at a parrot, and brought him down so little hurt that by the evening he had quite recovered his spirits, and in two days was perfectly tame. He became a great pet, and, as he called himself “Pourri,” we christened him so. Later on, when one of the boats was sent back to the settlement, he accompanied it, and there I found him well and happy on my return.
The river now was freer from impediments than it had been hitherto; the islands were fewer, and occasionally we were in sight of both banks. Owing to its shallowness, sandbanks were numerous, and we frequently were obliged to get out of the boats and push and lift them over. We camped that evening in sight of a range of hills near the Issano river. An Indian who had been following us at a distance in his woodskin,[57] since the previous day, here came up to us. He was skinny and shy, but as berries and cashews had of late formed his chief support, hunger overcame his timidity, and he was
thankful for some venison. A few matches pleased him highly, as he had never seen any before, and the small fire which was burning in his boat must have been a continued source of trouble, as if it went out, the relighting of it was a laborious process.
Before sunrise next morning we were afloat on a beautiful clear expanse of water, with a white sandy beach under the trees on both sides. A silvery haze lay over the silent river, and the western hills were seen as if through a filmy veil. As the sun rose, the silver changed to gold in a flood of light that touched the hill crests, and then pouring over the strange, peaceful land, cast rare tints and shades among the drooping trees and into the forest depths. Our painted boats were quite in accord with the bright scene, and the gay feather ornaments of the crews and the gleam of the paddles were strikingly effective. The sky was of a frosty blue, unrelieved by a single cloud.
Near where we stopped for breakfast was an Indian shed— banaboo—and there we found numerous jaws of the pirai, and we were thankful that in our morning bath we had escaped these voracious fish. The pirai[58] is not large, but its jaws are so strong and teeth so sharp that it can take off a finger or a toe at a bite. It will attack anything, even an alligator, and ducks and geese seldom have any feet where this species of fish exists, but a man bathing is an object of peculiar attraction to it. Its flesh is coarse and bony, but the Indians eat it.
Several times that day our attention was directed to a peculiar humming noise, like the distant burr of machinery in motion, proceeding from the water over which we passed. McTurk and the Indians, who had heard similar sounds on the Pomeroon and other rivers, said that they were uttered by singing fish. That it was fishmusic there was no doubt, as the nearer we placed our ears to the water the more distinct were the sounds, and on dropping a stone they ceased for a moment and then recommenced. The tone was by no means inharmonious, and resembled the hum of a busy city heard from a high church steeple, or the voice of Saint Francis
reading prayers to the fish, to which they were repeating the responses.
As we approached the Teboco hills, one of our Acawais said that he had an uncle who lived in a village not far from the river, and asked permission to visit him. This was readily granted by McTurk, and on finding the landing we all went ashore, and the Indian, quickly dressing himself in a clean shirt and an old hat, evidently with the intention of astonishing the natives and showing them what civilization had done for him, started off with two companions on a two-mile walk through the forest. On the high bank near where we had landed we found an old shed, and near it, not in it, as it probably contained a rich entomological collection, we prepared breakfast, and then awaited the arrival of the absentees.
After a delay of nearly three hours our Indians arrived, and they were quickly followed by the strangest procession I have ever seen. Along the narrow forest path, which led from the clearing in which we were seated, stalked in single file, noiselessly and solemnly, the whole of the inhabitants from the Indian village. There were only twelve or thirteen altogether, men, women, and children, but their slow march and the long intervals between each gave magnitude to their number. As they arrived they touched our hands, and then retired to a short distance, the children trying to hide themselves behind their mothers, but with little success. It was with the utmost difficulty that we could refrain from loud bursts of laughter, so utterly ridiculous was the appearance of the natives. The men were short, but stoutly proportioned, and wore the customary “lap” and bright feathers in their hair. A few had little patches of white fluff stuck about their faces, and all were freshly painted. Their heads were got up in a very elaborate style; the parting of their long black hair was dyed vermillion, and a Vandyck pattern of the same brilliant colour ran round the forehead. Through the nose and ears of each were passed yellow straws or strips of wood, those of the ear resting on that of the nose, and giving a most humorous expression to their pathetic countenances. Some carried a blow-pipe, others a bow and arrows. In addition to their bead aprons, the women wore broad
armlets and anklets of beads, and their bodies and limbs were stained and painted in stripes with crimson “arnotto”[59] and blue black “lana.”[60] They were tall in proportion to the men and had well-turned limbs, but in features were coarse and plain.
We were anxious to secure the services of a man who was acquainted with the river and its tributaries; so, selecting the strongest, we found he was willing to accompany us, and at once sent his son for his hammock. In the interval, the ladies and gentlemen entertained us with a dance. Placing their hands on each other’s shoulders, they formed into line, and advanced and retreated in a kind of jig. As there were only two or three steps in it, it became monotonous to all but the dancers, who continued their amusement until the arrival of the hammock. The wife of our late acquisition then bitterly lamented the departure of her husband, and seemed inclined to accompany us herself, but as there was no room for her we had to decline her offer; then she burst into tears and would not be comforted. As a last resource we produced some beads, and immediately tears were dried and the mourning wife was changed to a merry coquette, whose only anxiety was concerning the colour of the ornaments. Shakespeare says:—
“Win her with gifts, if she respects not words, Dumb jewels often in their silent kind, More than quiet words, do move a woman’s mind.”
Fashion reigns in the wilds of Guiana as it does in the regions of civilization, and it is of no small importance to a traveller that his negotia—beads, knives, &c.,—should be of the proper colour, shape, or description.
We christened our new hand “Mazaruni,” not because his name was William—he said he had been called William during a visit he had paid to the settlement—but because we already had most of the common Christian names among our crew. Paiworie and fresh
cassava had been the cause of our delay in the first instance, and a bowl of that unpleasant beverage was brought for the entertainment of our Indians, who thoroughly enjoyed it. Two woodskins, containing friends of Mazaruni, accompanied us as far as the Teboco hills, and there left us, as our course was deflected due south for some distance. This part of the river was very pretty, as from each bank numerous points ran out, all thickly wooded with trees of various shades. Before we reached the southern extremity of this river-bend we obtained a beautiful view of the Karanang Hills, and beyond them, to the south, we saw in the far distance a high tablemountain, and behind that again a lofty peak, dim and hazy, but standing out in clear outline against the pale blue of the evening sky. This sugar-loaf peak was said by Mazaruni to be that of Illuie, but on our return another native who was with us gave it a different name. [61] After passing the mouth of the Semang River on our left, we rounded the Teboco promontory by ascending the pretty falls of Teboco, and continued on our way in a northerly direction. That evening we camped, during a rain storm, on the left bank of the Mazaruni, opposite the Karanang River. Next day we varied our game-bag by shooting some snipe, and the numerous fresh tracks of tapirs gave us hopes of obtaining large game, but a small accourie[62] was the only four-footed creature we got. This little rodent figures prominently in Indian mythology.
One of the legends runs thus; the inhabitants of the sky once peeped through a hole that they had been told not to approach, and on looking down saw another world. They therefore cut down long bush-ropes and let themselves down. After wandering about they became frightened and began to ascend the ladder, but an old lady of too ample proportions stuck in the hole, and, during the fighting and scrambling that ensued the rope broke and many had to remain on earth. Then, as they had no provisions they became very lean, but noticing that the accourie was always plump they set the woodpecker to watch its feeding ground. But the woodpecker betrayed himself by his tapping. Then the alligator was told to watch, and he found out, but came back and told a lie, so they cut
out his tongue.[63] Then the rat was sent off, but he never returned and the people starved. They wandered off and left a little child behind, and when they returned after a long time, having lived on berries, they found the child alive and well, and surrounded by Indian corn cobs that the accourie had fed it with. Then the child followed the accourie after its next visit and discovered the maize field, and the people were saved. In gratitude, they kill and eat the delicate little animal whenever they have the opportunity.
In their tradition of the Deluge, maize takes the place of the olive branch. They say that only one man was saved in his canoe, and when he sent out a rat to discover land, it brought back a head of Indian corn. The Caribs, in their account of the Creation, say that the Great Spirit sat on a mora tree, and picking off pieces of the bark threw them into the stream, and they became different animals. Then the Great Spirit—Makanaima—made a large mould, and out of this fresh, clean clay, the white man stepped. After it got a little dirty the Indian was formed, and the Spirit being called away on business for a long period the mould became black and unclean, and out of it walked the negro. All the Indian tribes of Guiana— Acawais, Arawaaks, Arecunas, Warraus, Macusis, &c.—rank themselves far higher than the negro race, and the Caribs consider themselves the first of the tribes, calling themselves “the” people, and their language “the” language.
Ever since our departure we had regretted that we had brought no dog with us, as without one it was almost impossible to drive the labba[64] or the great pig-like water haas[65] from their lair amongst the reeds and moco-mocos[66] that lined the banks. The labba and tapir being nocturnal in their habits were hardly ever seen by us, and it was only occasionally that we chanced to see the day-feeding animals. We frequently tried to buy an Indian dog from the natives, but they invariably declined to part with them.
After leaving Teboco, we encountered no more falls or rapids of any importance, having up to that time ascended about thirty and gained an elevation above the sea of about two hundred feet.
Continuing our northerly course, we saw towards the north-west a long table mountain known as the Comaka, which was much broken and very jagged at the northern extremity. On our left was the precipitous hill of Tamanua, wooded far up its sides and then presenting a massive face of rock, seamed and scarred in places with ravines and crevices. Over the strange mountain crests rain clouds continually came and went, and storms which never failed to deluge us in their progress hurried past on their way to the hill regions.
At last from north our direction changed to west, and after about six miles of this westerly course we arrived at the mouth of the Merumé river. Twenty miles to the south lay the Merumé mountains, in which the Mazaruni has its source. The course of this river is a very singular one, completely enclosing a great area of country, with the exception of the narrow strip of land, twenty miles in breadth, between its source and the mouth of the Merumé.[67]
It had been our intention to ascend the Merumé as far as possible, then, striking across the mountains, to cross the head waters of the Mazaruni, and reaching the Oweang river, down which we could travel in woodskins, again meet the Mazaruni in its course westward. Owing to the shallowness of the Merumé, we found it would be impossible to ascend that river in our boats, and there were no woodskins to be obtained. We therefore determined to continue our course up the Mazaruni, until we reached the Curipung river, which our new hand, Mazaruni, assured us would have a sufficient depth of water as far as the commencement of the overland path. Within three days we expected to arrive at the mouth of the Curipung.
CHAPTER XVI.
A FISH HUNT ON LAND—STINGRAYS—THE “CARIBISCE”—TABLE MOUNTAINS—A RIVER GOD—DESERTED VILLAGES—CURIPUNG RIVER—INDIAN ENCAMPMENT—INDIAN SUPERSTITION—THE “PEAIMAN”—DURAQUA—EATING CUSTOMS—ARRIVAL OF LANCEMAN—TRIANGLE OF MOUNTAINS—MACREBAH FALLS— START ACROSS COUNTRY.
It has been well said that mountains are privileges, blessings; Ararats whereon the dove of thought may alight when weary of the deluge around. And truly after the level country we had been traversing, it was an unutterable relief to gaze on the strange forms and picturesque colouring of the cliffs and crags that rose up around us. Though in height they did not approach the sublime order of mountains, yet their forest slopes, broken with clefts and chasms, and their perpendicular flat-topped walls, streaked here with clinging shrubs, and there glistening with falling water, were more suggestive of the wonderful land changes, yet more mysterious than the rounded and lofty forms of some grand Sierras. They resembled Cyclopean monuments scattered through the graveyard of a universe.
On the day after passing the Merumé river, we saw two natives carrying some large fish; as soon as they caught sight of us, they took to their heels and fled over the sandbank on which they had been walking towards the bush. As we were in want of fish we called to them, but the more we called the faster they ran. Then Mazaruni gave evidence of his value, as with a grunt of indignation at the silly fear of his countrymen, he jumped into the water and speeded after the fugitives. It was a most laughable chase and won eventually by Mazaruni, who returned triumphantly with his heavily-weighted captives. They gladly sold us two of their pacus, but would not part
with more, as they required them for their own camp, which was pitched somewhere up the Cabeparu creek, near which we were. Shortly afterwards, we captured two more pacus that had lately been shot, and they afforded us a more amusing hunt than even those of the previous week.
On account of the number of electric eels and stingrays it was dangerous work jumping carelessly out of the boat, and in the last hunt one of the crew touched a ray with his foot but fortunately without receiving any injury. In appearance a ray is rather like a frying-pan, and its lance-like tail, fringed with a series of barbs, is a most terrible weapon. The wound it inflicts causes great agony and is always followed by severe inflammation. It frequents shallows, where it lies half buried in the sand, and its yellow colour renders it difficult to distinguish. The flesh is eatable, when you can get nothing else, and we speared many of them with a bayonet fastened to a long pole, or shot them with arrows. Some were of enormous size and defied both arrow and spear.
The next day we met a party of Indian hunters dressed in the costume of the chase, i.e., in feathers, and armed blow-pipes and bows, but they had no game. We found out from them where we could obtain a certain liane called “mamurie,” which we were in search of in order to make “quakes” for our overland journey. We therefore camped early that day on the left bank of the river, and the men were sent into the woods to look for the required vine. As we ascended the river from Teboco, we had noticed in some distant hills a remarkable rocky peak which is called “the Caribisce,” from the legend stating that it is an Indian hunter who was turned into stone for daring to ascend the mountain. To-day from our camp, we saw in the direction from which we had come, east, another curious peak rising like a gigantic thimble from a flat table-mountain. The name of this is Sororieng, i.e., Swallow’s Nest, and it is an object of much dread to the superstitious Indians. Not far from it was the rugged outline of Ishagua, and far away in the south-west we saw the misty range of the Curipung mountains.
We had chosen a pretty spot for the camp, where on the high bank big moras and solemn ceibas cast a pleasant shade over rocky pools, deep and clear, in which small and large fish played near the surface. Among them McTurk thought he recognized a lucanani[68] and fished zealously for a couple of hours, but without success. I suggested that perhaps the fish saw him; he was dressed in scarlet flannel knickerbockers, and in his Scotch cap he wore the macaw’s tail feathers, that even the greediest fish could hardly have mistaken for a fly—at all events we got no lucanani that day. But the fisherman was delightfully picturesque.
Then we strolled through the dark forest, where great butterflies, with wings whose outer side was of a dull brown, whilst the under part was of metallic blue, flapped heavily along. Blue morphos, too, of a most lustrous sheen glanced here and there, and danced through the foliage like the will-o-the-wisp. Besides these there were not many other species, some pretty swallow-tails and heliconias being the chief representatives of the diurnal lepidoptera.[69]
Under the fallen trees were several species of brilliant beetles, and occasionally a great golden green buprestis[70] whizzed past us. This beetle is very common, and its wings are used by the Indians for armlets and anklets. The few flowering plants that we saw were yellow; an oncidium, the mahoe, cedar-bush, ginger-wort, and other cannas, all were yellow. The prettiest leaf was that of a crimsonveined caladium, the bulb of which had probably been dropped by an Indian on his way through the forest. The natives are fond of this plant, often bringing it back with them from their journeys to the settlement and using it medicinally. When the crew returned they brought a good supply of “mamurie,” and in addition one had a large land-tortoise, another had some toucans, whilst a third had seen some wonderful animal or other, but of course had no gun with him. The rest of the day was spent in basket-making.
Just before sun-down the noisy monkeys commence their usual chorus; cranes and egrets betook themselves to their resting places; macaws and parrots crossed the river, uttering their harsh good-
nights, and were answered by “pourri,” who had not forgotten when they, too, wended their evening flight over the waters; and finally, with a rush of wings and with weird minor cries, the green ibises— curri-curris—flew by and disappeared in the gloom—
“And far away in the twilight sky We heard them singing a lessening cry, Farther and farther till out of sight, And we stood alone in the silent night.”
When we left next morning, the Giant’s Thimble was just touched by the rising sun, and after we had crossed a fine reach of river, we had a fresh mountain view. In the distance it looked like a single mountain, much broken and castellated in the centre, and with table ends. Mazaruni informed us that the central position was called Tapusing and the flat Aricanna; so probably they were two mountains, one standing in front of the other.
Soon afterwards we passed a peculiar rock in the middle of the river, somewhat resembling a human figure; the Indians thought it was a river god watching for pacu. Strange rock formations had been the rule rather than the exception in all parts of the river, and owing to its unusual shallowness, we had been able to notice the action of the water on the various developments, such as granite, porphyry, green stone, gneiss, &c., below the ordinary low-water mark. Hitherto we had seen no Indian village on the banks of the river, although we had passed the sites of several deserted settlements, which were easily to be recognized by the forestclearing and the new growth of bush. To day we were glad when Mazaruni told us that we were approaching the village of Masanassa, and soon, on the left bank of the river and opposite a small island, we saw a number of woodskins and evident signs of habitation. Long before we reached the landing we had been descried by the natives, who flocked to see us and escorted us to the principal house, which stood on a high bank, with a neat approach of
flowering shrubs, plantains, ochro, peppers, papaws, cotton, and fruit trees. The house was merely a large shed with wattled walls. From the beams were suspended twenty-five hammocks, so that it was evident that three or four families occupied the same house. In the centre were two large paiworie troughs, and scattered about the floor, or resting on a platform overhead, were the various cassavamaking implements, calabashes, tastefully fretted “pegalls”—covered baskets in which the women keep their paints and knick-knacks— quaint, low stools, parrots, accouries, and a few snarling dogs.
In appearance and dress the inhabitants were the same as we had before seen, only the men had put on their finest and largest necklaces, made of the teeth of monkeys and peccaries, and of wildboars’ tusks. To some of these necklaces were attached long cords with tassels of toucans’ breasts, and various bird-skins. Some of the women were engaged in chewing cassava, whilst others were occupied in the pleasanter employment of cotton-spinning and hammock-weaving. The villagers were not particularly enthusiastic in their reception of us, and one man, with a fierce countenance horribly painted in red, lay in his hammock in an open shed outside the house, and scowled ferociously at our intrusion, but it was plain that his enmity arose from a too copious indulgence in paiworie. The chief of the house was named Lanceman, and though his knowledge of speaking English only amounted to “yes,” yet he understood a few words, and seemed an intelligent man. To his care McTurk confided the baggage—tin boxes, &c.,—that would be troublesome to carry during our overland journey, and also sufficient provisions to last us on our return from his house to the settlement. He also promised to accompany us himself to Roraima, and on the following day to bring to our camp, on the Curipung, as many men as were willing to assist us as carriers.
In two hours after we left we arrived at the Curipung River, in whose broad mouth the water had shrunk to one narrow channel, just deep enough to admit our boats. Just above, however, it widened out into a stream of about fifty yards in width, and on its left bank we camped. On the other side of this creek, and bordering
