A narrative of travels on the Amazon and Rio Negro,

by Alfred Russel Wallace

On the 27th of January, 1851, we left Guía, paddling up against the stream. The canoe had been fresh caulked, but still I found it leaking so much, as to keep me constantly baling; and in the afternoon, when we staid for dinner, I made an examination, and found out the cause of the leakage. The cargo was heavy and was supported on a little stage, or floor, resting upon cross-bearers in the bottom of the canoe; the ends of these bearers had been carelessly placed just on a seam, so that the whole weight of the cargo tended to force out the plank, and thus produce the leak. I was accordingly obliged to unload the boat entirely, and replace the bearers in a better position; after which, I was glad to find the leak much diminished.

On the 28th, in the afternoon, we arrived at the little village of Mabé, which we reached in very good time, for the inhabitants had just returned from a fishing expedition: they had procured a great quantity of fish by poisoning an igaripé near, and I purchased enough for our supper and breakfast. I found several which I had not seen before; among them, a most curious little species allied to Centrarcus, called the butterfly fish, from the extraordinary development of its fins, and pretty banded markings.

On the 29th, about noon, we passed the mouth of the river Xié, a black-water stream of moderate size and no great length. There is little trade up it, and the Indians inhabiting it are uncivilized and almost unknown.

On the 30th, we came in sight of the serras of the Cababurís, and the long row of hills called Pirapucó (the long fish): they consist of lofty and isolated granite peaks, like those generally found in this district. The next day we reached Marabitánas, the frontier fort of Brazil: there is now only the remnant of a mud entrenchment, and a small detachment of soldiers. As the Commandante was not there, we did not stay, except to purchase a few plantains.

On the 1st of February we reached the Serra of Cocoí, which marks the boundary between Brazil and Venezuela. This is a granite rock, very precipitous and forming nearly a square frustum of a prism, about a thousand feet high. It rises at once out of the forest plain, and is itself, on the summit and the less precipitous portions, covered with thick wood. Here the pium̃s, or little biting flies, swarm, and made us very uncomfortable for the rest of the day. We had now beautiful weather, and in the evening slept on a fine granite beach very comfortably. The next night we staid at a rock on which we found some curious figures engraven below high-water mark. Here having a clear horizon up the river to the north, I saw my old friend the pole-star, though I was only in 1° 20´ north latitude. We had now every day fine rocky beaches, along which I often walked, while young Luiz would shoot fish for us with his bow and arrow. He was very skilful, and always had his bow by his side, and as we approached a rock or shallow would fit his arrow and send it into some glittering acarrá or bright-coloured tucunaré.

At length, on the afternoon of the 4th of February, we arrived at São Carlos, the principal Venezuelan village on the Rio Negro. This was the furthest point reached by Humboldt from an opposite direction, and I was therefore now entering upon ground gone over fifty years before by that illustrious traveller. At the landing-place I was agreeably surprised to see a young Portuguese I had met at Guía, and as he was going up the river to Tómo in a day or two, I agreed to wait and take him with me. I went with him to the house of the Commissario, got introduced, and commenced my acquaintance with the Spanish language. I was civilly received, and found myself in the midst of a party of loosely-dressed gentlemen, holding a conversation on things in general. I found some difficulty in making out anything, both from the peculiarity of accent and the number of new words constantly occurring; for though Spanish is very similar to Portuguese in the verbs, pronouns, and adjectives, the nouns are mostly different, and the accent and pronunciation peculiar.

We took our meals at the Commissario’s table, and with every meal had coffee, which custom I rather liked. The next day I walked into the forest along the road to Soláno, a village on the Cassiquiare. I found a dry, sandy soil, but with very few insects. The village of São Carlos is laid out with a large square, and parallel streets. The principal house, called the Convento, where the priests used to reside, is now occupied by the Commissario. The square is kept clean, the houses whitewashed, and altogether the village is much neater than those of Brazil. Every morning the bell rings for matins, and the young girls and boys assemble in the church and sing a few hymns; the same takes place in the evening; and on Sundays the church is always opened, and service performed by the Commissario and the Indians.

Soon after leaving the village we passed the mouth of the Cassiquiare, that singular stream which connects the Rio Negro with the Orinooko near the sources of both. It is a mixture of white and black water, and swarms with pium̃s, which are abundant down to São Carlos; but on passing the mouth of the Cassiquiare they cease immediately, and up to the sources of the Rio Negro there is a freedom at least from this pest. In the evening we staid at an Indian cottage, and bought a fine cabeçudo, or big-headed turtle, for a basin of salt: it furnished us with an excellent supper for eight persons, and even the next day we did not finish it all. The weather was now hot, and brilliantly fine, contrasting much with the constant rains of Guía; and, marvellous to relate, the people here told us they had not had any rain for three months past. The effects were seen in the river, which was very low and still falling, and so full of rocks and shallows as to render it sometimes difficult for us to find a passage for our canoes.

After passing the village of São Miguel these difficulties increased, till we came to a place where the whole channel, a mile wide, appeared but one bed of rocks, with nowhere water enough for our canoe to pass, though eighteen inches would have sufficed. We went wandering about over this rocky plain in search of some opening, and after much difficulty succeeded in pushing and dragging our boat over the rocks. We passed by two or three “Caños,” or channels leading to the Cassiquiare, up which many of the inhabitants were now going, to lay in a stock of fish and cabeçudos against the “tiempo del faminto” (time of famine), as the wet season is called, when but little fish and game are to be obtained.

On the 10th of February we reached Tómo, a village at the mouth of a stream of the same name. The inhabitants are all Indians, except one white man, a Portuguese, named Antonio Dias, of whom I had heard much at Barra. I found him in his shirt and trowsers, covered with dust and perspiration, having just been assisting his men at their work at some canoes he was building. He received me kindly, with a strange mixture of Portuguese and Spanish, and got the “casa de nação,” or stranger’s house, a mere dirty shed, swept out for my accommodation for a few days. Like most of the white men in this neighbourhood, he is occupied entirely in building large canoes and schooners for the Rio Negro and Amazon trade. When finished, the hulls alone are taken down to Barra or to Pará, generally with a cargo of piassába or farinha, and there sold. He had now one on the stocks, of near two hundred tons burden; but most of them are from thirty to a hundred tons. These large vessels have to be taken down the cataracts of the Rio Negro, which can only be done in the wet season, when the water is deep.