Story 7.

The Black Jaguar—An Adventure on the Amazon.

It has been a contested point among naturalists, whether the black jaguar of America is merely a variety of the felis onca, or a distinct species. The best informed writers regard it in the former light; and, so far as my observation has extended, I can perceive no essential difference between the two varieties, either in size, shape, or habits. They appear to be distinguished by colour alone.

Every one knows the colour of the common jaguar—a glossy yellowish ground, turning paler, almost whitish, under the belly and throat, and mottled all over by what appear to be jet black spots, but which, on closer inspection, turn out to be irregular rings, each with a black blotch in the centre, forming a species of marking which may very properly be termed a rosette. It is this central spot of the ring that chiefly distinguishes the markings of the jaguar from those of the leopard and panther of the Old World—these having the ring, but not the dab in the centre.

Among the felidae, of the second class, as regards size—that is, those next in size to the lion and tiger—there are five spotted species, quite distinct from one another, although they are usually spoken of under the common appellation of panthers or leopards. Four of these belong to the Old World—the true leopard, panther, the cheetah, or hunting leopard, and the ounce. The first two are very much alike, and can be distinguished from one another only by the skilled zoologist. The leopard is an inhabitant of the warmer countries of both Asia and Africa, while, as far as I can ascertain, the panther is found only in Southern Asia and the great Indian islands. The cheetah, easily identified by its shape as well as markings, its black spots being without the rings, is distributed over a vast range, comprising the whole continent of Africa, with a large portion of that of Asia.

The fourth of the great spotted cats of the Old World is the least known. Buffon procured a single skin, and gave to the animal the appellation of the “ounce;” but his description is worthless, and his knowledge is confined to the expression of a belief that it came from some eastern country—perhaps Persia. Since the time of the French naturalist the “ounce” has been a mystery; and although stuffed skins may be seen in many museums, no one appears to know whence they have been procured, or anything of the habits of the animal from which they have been stripped. But this uncertainty need continue no longer. Beyond doubt, the ounce of Buffon is the white leopard of the Himalayas, of late years often met with by Anglo-Indian hunters amongst the highest summits of those mountains, and rarely descending far below the line of the snow.

The jaguar, though often confounded with the leopard and panther of the Old World, is an entirely distinct animal, exclusively confined to America, and found there only in countries of a tropical or sub-tropical character. It is in the hottest tropical regions where this creature attains to its greatest perfection, in the size and strength if its body, and the fierceness of its disposition.

Buffon, who had a keen antipathy to everything American, describes the jaguar as an innocuous creature of inferior dimensions; but indeed this writer, whom the French love to designate as “a great naturalist,” was little else than a verbose compiler, and his knowledge of natural history would scarcely exceed that of many a schoolboy of the present day.

Humboldt more correctly characterises the jaguars, when he states that he has seen specimens which, in point of size, equal the royal tiger of India; and another distinguished naturalist, Von Tschudi, has given the measurements of one, made by himself on the spot where it was killed, in one of the Peruvian valleys, and which goes far towards confirming the statements of the great scientific traveller.

I have never myself met with a specimen of the jaguar equalling the tiger of India in size, but more than one have I seen as large as the tigress; and I believe the true state of the case to be this:—The largest jaguars are about equal in size to the smallest tigers.

As regards fierceness of disposition, and the danger to be apprehended from an encounter with them, they are indeed the rivals of either the tiger or lion of the Old World; and the disbelief in this, often expressed by flippant writers who have never set foot in a South American forest, is simply an impertinent absurdity. Hundreds of human beings dwelling upon the banks of the Amazon, the Oronoco, the Magdalena, and other large tropical rivers, have fallen victims to the savage instincts of these carnivorous creatures; and, in the eastern Andes of Peru, it is well known that more than one village has been abandoned by its inhabitants, for no other reason than to avoid the danger of being devoured by the jaguars, which like the tigers of India, instead of diminishing in numbers, usually increase by the proximity of a settlement.

It is probable that there are several varieties of the jaguar, perhaps species, distinct from one another, as the leopards of the Old World are from the panthers.

But the black jaguar does not appear anything more than an accidental circumstance in the colouring, just as the “black panther of Java”—also found in Bengal—is but a darker variety of the panther itself.

And yet, taking the testimony of the native inhabitants of South America—Indians, Portuguese, and Spaniards—there would seem to exist something more than a mere accidental difference. All agree in stating that the black jaguar is fiercer, larger, and more powerful than the fulvous kind.

Perhaps fancy may have something to do in the formation of this opinion. The former is not only far less numerous than the latter, but in most parts it is a scarce and rarely seen animal. Its habits, therefore, have been less observed. Fancy ever delights to attribute rare and wonderful qualities to that which is but little known. This may account for the peculiarities described as belonging to the black jaguar.

The nomenclature of the natives shows that, notwithstanding the difference of colour, they in reality regard these animals as being of one and the same species. “Tiger” and “black tiger,” are their respective appellations in Spanish America, while the Indians of the Lower Andes know both as the “chinca,” but distinguish them by the terms “yana chinca,” and “chaque chinca,” that is black and spotted “chincas.” Also in the “Lingoa Geral” they are respectively termed “jauarite” and “jauarite pixuna.” This marking of the relationship between two animals by the natives of a country where these animals are found, is pretty generally a safe guide to the naturalist; more particularly in a country of savage hunters, whose whole lives are spent in the pursuit and consequent observation of these creatures.

We may assume, therefore, that the black jaguar is no more than an accidental variety of the species. In fact, if you suppose the yellow or ground colour of the spotted kind to be deepened to a maroon brown, you will have the black jaguar itself; for the latter is not black, as its name would imply, but of a dark chocolate colour. The ocellae or rosettes are thickly studded over its body just as upon the fulvous kinds, and these marks, although not visible to the superficial observer, can easily be distinguished when the animal stands in a certain light.

An incident which occurred to me some years ago, in which a black jaguar played a prominent part, proved that this creature, whether or not it be different in species from its yellow congeners, is at least their equal in boldness and ferocity of disposition.

I had gone up the Amazon to the Brazilian settlement of Barra, at the mouth of the Rio Negro; and having accomplished the mission of my visit to that curious locality, I was desirous of returning again to Gran Para. There was no way of getting back but by taking passage on one of the trading vessels of the river; and on one of those which chanced to be going down to Para, I embarked.

The craft was one peculiar to the Lower Amazon, and known as an “Igarite.” It had one mast amidships, with a lug sail, and was flat-bottomed, without keel. The cabin was nothing more than a “toldo”—an arched roof, thatched with leaves of the bossu palm, and covering all the afterpart of the vessel, except a small space for the steersman. A similar toldo was constructed over the forward half of the igarite, where much of the cargo was stowed; but as this consisted entirely of manteiga (turtle oil), carried in large earthern botijas of Indian manufacture, the weather could not injure it; and every available space was crowded with the jars. Just enough room was left for four oarsmen, the captain of the craft (Joao, by name), and myself.

I have been thus particular in describing the igarite and its crew, as it has something to do with the adventure I am about to relate.

About half way between Barra and the island of Marajo, we had got into a somewhat narrow channel between two islets. The wind was blowing up-stream, and was therefore against us; but as there was a fair current, we were making a headway of about two or three miles an hour. It was about mid day, and the sun over our heads was so intensely hot, that the captain had ordered the “tapinos” to desist from rowing.

The sail was down, and the igarite floated with the current. The crew, sheltering their heads under the roof of the forward toldo, soon fell asleep; and I myself in the after cabin, was nearly in a similar condition. Joao, acting in the double capacity of captain and steersman, alone kept awake.

I had been lying for a considerable time without hearing any other sound than the rippling of the water against the sides of the igarite. Indeed, at that hour of the day it is always more silent than at any other time. Notwithstanding the abundance of animal life in the tropical parts of South America, the traveller will see or hear but little signs of it during the hours of noon. The animals all go to sleep. Even the howling monkeys take their siesta, and the preying ounce, and other fierce creatures, overcome by the heat, seem to give their victims a respite. The beautiful snow-white bell-bird is at this hour the only creature that cheers the solitude of the forest with its metallic monologue.

From my state of half-slumber I was awakened by the voice of Joao, which, in a sort of half-whisper, was heard repeating,—

“Senhor! senhor!”

I looked up; Joao’s face was peeping in through an opening in the back of the toldo. There was an expression upon it that told me something was in the wind.

“Well, Joao, what is it?” I inquired.

“Is your gun loaded, senhor?”

“Yes,” I said, reaching forward and taking my double-barrelled piece from its rest—“what is it?”

“There’s a queer-looking creature ahead—may be a tapin or a jacare (crocodile); I can’t make it out—come and see, senhor.”

I crept forward to the entrance of the toldo, and looked in the direction pointed out by the captain, that is, down stream, and nearly ahead of our course.

There was a point of the island that jutted slightly into the water, and against this point a small raft had formed, consisting of dead logs, branches, and river wreck.

The raft was not extensive, nor did it appear to be very firmly attached to the bank; but the logs themselves were tree-trunks of the largest size, and evidently of some light wood, as they floated high above the surface of the water.

On the top of one of them—that nearest the water’s edge—a dark object was visible. It was plainly the body of some animal, but what sort it was, I could not tell, nor could Joao, as it lay stretched along the log.

There was a back, and shoulders, and a neck, head, and legs, too, that appeared to be grasping the trunk on which the animal lay extended. It could not be a piece of dark wood, nor yet a jacare. The outlines of the alligator I should have known at a glance.

“A tapin,” thought I, as Joao had at first suggested; but no, it could not be. Its odd position on the floating log contradicted the supposition of its being a tapin. A capivara! not that either; and none of the species of black monkeys would have lodged themselves so singularly. Besides, it was larger than any of the monkey tribe of these parts.

I thought over every animal that I knew to inhabit the regions of the Amazon. I never once thought of its being a jaguar. Of course the yellow-spotted skin of this monarch of the American forest, I, as well as Joao, would have recognised at a glance.

Both of us gazing and guessing—the tapino still slept—Joao had for the moment forgotten his office of steersman, and we perceived that the igarite was drifting right on to the raft.

The pilot instantly seized the stern oar, and with a strong pull, headed the vessel so as to clear the timber.

We were now nearly opposite, and I at length procured a fair view of the creature that had been puzzling us. What was my astonishment—consternation, I may say—on discovering its true character? Instead of being a harmless tapin, or cavy, as we had been guessing, it was no other than the dreaded janarit pixuna—the black jaguar of the Amazon.

My first thoughts were about my gun, which I held in my hand. A look at the weapon, and I saw that both barrels were empty!

I now remembered having drawn the charges that morning, for the purpose of wiping the barrels, and I had neglected to reload. It would be too late to do so now. A cold fear crept over me. Except some dull cutlasses for cutting brush, there was not another weapon on board. We were literally defenceless.

My gaze returned to the jaguar. He was asleep! His maroon-coloured body, almost as large as that of an Indian tiger, lay stretched along the raft, glistening in the sun—beautiful, but fearful to behold, especially from our point of view. The remains of a large fish, half devoured, lay close by. No doubt he had caught it, satisfied his hunger, and, yielding to the heat of the noon-day sun, had gone to sleep.

These were after thoughts of mine. I was in no humour for reflections at the time. I only noticed, and with some satisfaction, that the fierce creature slept.

Not a word had as yet passed between myself and Joao—a sign only—and that was mutually, to enjoin silence. The captain saw that my gun was empty, and knew as well as I did the danger we had to dread. He knew well that should the jaguar awake, its first act might be to spring upon the igarite and attack us.

It was no groundless fear—such things had happened before—ay, even out into the mid-river, the jaguar had been known to swim, attack the passing canoe, and drag its occupant overboard! This, too, in the case of a jaguar of the ordinary size and sort—but a black jaguar, one of monstrous dimensions!

Joao knew the danger. He stood like a statue firmly grasping the handle of his oar.

A few seconds only elapsed until the igarite was opposite the raft, almost touching it. Now was the critical moment.

The tapinos still slept. Would they awake?

I cast a hurried glance at them. They lay like bronze images in the bottom of the boat in different attitudes; I could hear their breathing. Mine and Joao’s could not have been heard—we scarcely breathed.

A word—a motion and we are lost! There is neither.

We glide gently on; the dreaded sleeper hears us not. How close!—I could almost touch its glossy hide with the muzzle of my gun! Softly, softly. Ha!

“See!” whispered Joao, “see, master! the raft comes away—it follows us—Santissima!”

I saw it as soon as Joao, but could scarcely believe my eyes. The part of the raft upon which lay the jaguar, had become detached—no doubt by the swell caused by the passage of the igarite, and was now drifting down the current. It had parted so silently that not a crackle had been made among the logs, and the sleeper was not disturbed. The animal lay upon the floating mass perfectly unconscious of the change in its position; and yet it was difficult to believe that its fierce nature could be stilled into such a profound slumber.

It was not likely it would long continue in this unconscious condition, and as the log on which it lay was carried by the current in the same direction as ourselves, and at the like rate of speed, the distance between it and us, and consequently our danger continued the same as ever.

Awaking at any moment, it might have sprung right into the igarite, where it would have had us completely at its mercy.

It is not necessary to detail the terrible emotions that passed through the mind of Joao and myself, while under the convoy of that dread compagnon du voyage. The tapinos, still asleep, were spared them, and no doubt, I myself would have felt them more keenly had I not been occupied in the loading of my gun.

In this, also, Joao assisted me, and the process was as gentle and silent as if the gun had been glass, and we were afraid of breaking it.

Fortunately we had succeeded in getting both barrels charged before the event, which we had been momentarily expecting, came to pass—the awakening of the jaguar.

It did come to pass, not from any noise proceeding from the igarite, for there had been none, but by a disturbance in the water, close to the log on which the sleeper was extended.

It was a porpoise that caused this disturbance, rising to the surface to blow.

The jaguar started to its feet, causing the log to wriggle unsteadily as it stood up. For a moment, even its fierce nature seemed to undergo a shock of surprise, at the odd situation in which it so unexpectedly perceived itself to be.

In a short moment, however, its surprise gave place to the fiercest fury, seeing human forms so near it, and no doubt believing us the cause of its involuntary voyage. Uttering its wild cat-like screams, and lashing its long tail against its flanks, it cowered along the log, gathering its four feet together, evidently with the intention of launching itself towards the igarite.

As it couched to make the spring, with its horrid round head flattened against the trunk of the tree, it could not have offered a fairer aim, and knowing it would not long continue in this attitude, I lost not an instant in taking aim. I fired two bullets in as quick succession as I could pull the two triggers, and fortunately, with fatal effect, for on the smoke drifting aside, we had the satisfaction to see no jaguar, but the trunk of a tree bobbing about in the midst of a disc of blood-stained water.

The beast had gone dead to the bottom, and the tapinos, who sprang up in affright from their recumbent attitudes, had only this evidence with the words of Joao and myself, of the danger from which they had so unconsciously escaped.

The End.