My host, Senhor João Antonio de Lima, was a middle-sized, wiry, grizzly man, with a face something like the banished lord in the National Gallery. He had however all the politeness of his countrymen, placed the canoe and everything in it “at my orders,” and made himself very agreeable. Our tolda contained numerous boxes and packages of his and my own, but still left plenty of room for us to sit or lie down comfortably; and in the cool of the morning and evening we stood upon the plank at its mouth, or sat upon its top, enjoying the fresh air and the cool prospect of dark waters around us. For the first day or two we found no land, all the banks of the river being flooded, but afterwards we had plenty of places on which to go on shore and make our fire. Generally, as soon after daylight as we could discover a convenient spot, we landed and made coffee, into which we broke some biscuit and put a piece of butter, which I soon found to be a very great improvement in the absence of milk. About ten or eleven we stopped again for breakfast—the principal meal for the Indians. We now cooked a fowl, or some fish if we had caught any during the night. About six we again landed, to prepare supper and coffee, which we sat sipping on the top of the tolda, while we proceeded on our way, till eight or nine at night, when the canoe was moored in a place where we could hang up our hammocks on shore, and sleep comfortably till four or five in the morning. Sometimes this was varied by stopping for the night at six o’clock, and then we would start again by midnight, or by one or two in the morning. We would often make our stoppages at a cottage, where we could buy a fowl or some eggs, or a bunch of bananas or some oranges; or at another time at a pretty opening in the forest, where some would start off with a gun, to shoot a curassow or a guan, and others would drop their line into the water, and soon have some small but delicious fish to broil. Senhor L. was an old hand at canoe-travelling, and was always well provided with hooks and lines. Bait was generally carefully prepared during the day, and at night the lines would be thrown in; and we were often rewarded with a fine pirahíba of twenty or thirty pounds’ weight, which made us a breakfast and supper for the next day.
A little above Barra the river spreads out into great bays on each side, so as to be from six to ten miles wide; and here, when there is much wind, a heavy sea rises, which is very dangerous for small canoes. Above this the river again narrows to about a mile and a half, and soon afterwards branches out into diverging channels, with islands of every size between them. For several hundred miles after this the two banks of the river can never be seen at once: they are probably from ten to twenty-five miles apart. Some of the islands are of great size, reaching to thirty or forty miles in length, and with others often intervening between them and the shore.
On the second and third day after we left Barra, there were high, picturesque, gravelly banks to the river. A little further on, a few isolated rocks appear, and at the little village of Ayrão, which we reached in a week, there were broken ledges of sandstone rock of rather a crystalline texture. A little lower we had passed points of a soft sandstone, worn into caves and fantastic hollows by the action of the water. Further on, at Pedreiro, the rock was perfectly crystalline; while a little further still, at the mouth of the Rio Branco, a real granitic rock appears.
At Pedreiro we staid for the night with a friend of Senhor L.’s, where the news of the city was discussed, and the prices of fish, salsaparilha, piassaba, etc., communicated. The next day we passed some picturesque granitic rocks opposite the mouth of the Rio Branco, where again the two shores of the river are seen at one view. On a little island there are some curious Indian picture-writings, being representations of numerous animals and men, roughly picked out of the hard granite. I made careful drawings of these at the time, and took specimens of the rock.
The next day we reached Carvoeiro, a village desolate and half deserted, as are all those on the Rio Negro. We found only two families inhabiting it, a blacksmith, and a Brazilian, who bore the title of Capitão Vasconcellos, a good-humoured, civil man, who treated us very well the day we remained with him. For dinner we had turtle, with silver knives and forks, but our table was a mat on the ground. In the afternoon the Capitão got drunk with his old friend Senhor L., and then became very violent, and abused him as a vile, unworthy, skulking Portuguese villain, and used many more epithets, of which the language has a copious store. Senhor L., who prides himself on never getting intoxicated, took it very coolly, and the next morning the Capitão expressed his heartfelt contrition, vowed eternal friendship, and regretted much that he should have given the “estrangeiro” so much reason to think ill of his countrymen.
Proceeding on our journey, we entered on a labyrinth of small islands, so flooded that they appeared like masses of bushes growing out of the water. Though Senhor L. is well acquainted with the river, we here almost lost our way, and met another canoe which had quite done so. As it was late, we staid at a point of dry land for the night, and hung our hammocks under the trees. The next day we called at the house of a man who owed Senhor L. some money, and who paid him in turtles, eight or nine of which we embarked.
The two shores of the river had only been seen for a moment. Again we plunged into a sea of islands, and channels opening among them often stretched out to the horizon. Sometimes a distant shore continued for days unbroken, but was at last found to be but a far-stretching island. All was now again alluvial soil, and we sometimes had a difficulty in finding dry land to cook our meals on. In a few days more we reached Barcellos, once the capital of the Rio Negro, but now depopulated and almost deserted. On the shore lie several blocks of marble, brought from Portugal for some public buildings which were never erected. The lines of the old streets are now paths through a jungle, where orange and other fruit-trees are mingled with cassias and tall tropical weeds. The houses that remain are mostly ruinous mud-huts, with here and there one more neatly finished and whitewashed.
We called on an old Italian, who has the reputation of being rich, but a great miser. He was however merry enough. He gave us coffee sweetened with molasses, and pressed us to stay breakfast with him,—which meal was served in an old storehouse filled with cables, anchors, cordage, casks, and demijohns. We had silver forks and spoons, and a dirty towel for a tablecloth, and raw spirits and tough curassow-bird was the fare placed upon it. He however gave us a basket of oranges to take to the canoe.
In a day or two more we passed another decayed village, called Cabuqueno. About Barcellos had first appeared a very pretty little palm growing at the water’s edge, a new species of Mauritia, which was afterwards abundant all the way up. Fish were now more plentiful than in the lower part of the river, and several species occurred, not found below. Senhor L. often sent two men in a small canoe, to fish early in the morning, and they would by ten o’clock generally come up with sufficient for our breakfast and supper, I began now to take a great interest in the beauty and variety of the species, and, whenever I could, made accurate drawings and descriptions of them. Many are of a most excellent flavour, surpassing anything I have tasted in England, either from the fresh or the salt waters; and many species have real fat, which renders the water they are boiled in a rich and agreeable broth. Not a drop of this is wasted, but, with a little pepper and farinha, is all consumed, with as much relish as if it were the most delicate soup. Our tolda was pretty hot during the day, generally being from 95° to 100° inside. Early in the morning the temperature was about 75°, the water at the same time being 85° and feeling quite warm; at noon or in the afternoon the water would be about 86°, and then feel delightfully cool from its contrast with the heated air.
We had altogether very fine weather; but every afternoon, or at least four or five times in a week, we had a “trovoádo,” or storm, which came on suddenly, with violent gusts of wind, and often thunder and rain, but passed over in about an hour or two, leaving the atmosphere beautifully mild and clear. A great luxury of this river is the absence of mosquitoes. Sunset, instead of being the signal for discomfort and annoyance, brought us the pleasantest part of the day. We could sit on the top of the tolda, enjoying the cool evening breeze, and sipping a cup of coffee—our greatest luxury—till the glories of sunset faded rapidly away and the stars shone brightly out above us. At this quiet hour the goatsuckers came out to hunt their insect prey over the stream, and amused us with their rapid evolutions; the tree-frogs commenced their mournful chants, a few lingering parrots would cross the river to their nests, and the guarhibas fill the air with their howling voices. When at length the dews of evening fell thick upon us, I would turn in beneath the tolda, while Senhor L., wrapping himself in a sheet, preferred taking his repose outside.