One day I had brought to me a curious little alligator of a rare species, with numerous ridges and conical tubercles (Caiman gibbus), which I skinned and stuffed, much to the amusement of the Indians, half a dozen of whom gazed intently at the operation.
Of fish, too, I obtained many new species, as my Indians were out fishing every day to provide our supper, and I generally had some to figure and describe in the afternoon. I formed a good collection of the smaller kinds in spirits. My drawings here were made under great difficulties. I generally returned from the forest about three or four in the afternoon, and if I found a new fish, had to set down immediately to figure it before dark. I was thus exposed to the pest of the sand-flies, which, every afternoon, from four to six, swarm in millions, causing by their bites on the face, ears, and hands, the most painful irritation. Often have I been obliged to start up from my seat, dash down my pencil, and wave my hands about in the cool air to get a little relief. But the sun was getting low, and I must return to my task, till, before I had finished, my hands would be as rough and as red as a boiled lobster, and violently inflamed. Bathing them in cold water, however, and half an hour's rest, would bring them to their natural state; in which respect the bite of this little insect is far preferable to that of the mosquito, the pium͂, or the mutúca, the effects of whose bites are felt for days.
The village of Javíta is rather a large one, regularly laid out, and contains about two hundred inhabitants: they are all Indians of pure blood; I did not see a white man, a mulatto, or a half-breed among them. Their principal occupation is in cutting piassába in the neighbouring forests, and making cables and cordage of it. They are also the carriers of all goods across the "Estrada de Javíta," and, being used to this service from childhood, they will often take two loads a day ten miles each way, with less fatigue than a man not accustomed to the work can carry one. When my Indians accompanied the Javítanos the first time from Pimichin, they could not at all keep up with them, but were, as I have related, obliged to stop halfway. They go along the road at a sort of run, stopping to rest twice only for a few minutes each time. They go over the narrow bridges with the greatest certainty, often two together, carrying heavy loads suspended from a pole between them. Besides this, once or twice a year they will go in a body to clean the road as far as the middle, where there is a cross erected. The inhabitants of Maróa, Tómo, and other villages of the Rio Negro assemble to clean the other half. One of these cleanings occurred while I was there. The whole village, men, women, and children, turned out, the former carrying axes and cutlasses, the latter bundles of switches to serve as brooms. They divided themselves into parties, going on to different parts of the road, and then worked to meet each other. The men cut down all overhanging or fallen trees which obstructed the way, and cleared off all the brushwood and weeds which were growing up on the sides. The women and girls and boys carried these away, and swept clean with their switch brooms all the dead leaves and twigs, till the whole looked quite neat and respectable. To clear up a road five miles in length in this manner was no trifle, but they accomplished it easily and very thoroughly in two days.
A little while after the men again turned out, to make new bridges in several places where they had become decayed. This was rather a laborious task. Large trees had to be cut down, often some distance from the spot; they were then roughly squared or flattened on top and bottom, and with cords of withes and creepers, and with numerous long sticks and logs placed beneath for rollers, were dragged by twenty or thirty men to the spot, placed in a proper position over the marsh or stream, propped and wedged securely, and the upper surface roughed with the axe to make the footing more sure. In this way eight or ten of these bridges were made in a few days, and the whole road put in complete order. This work is done by order of the Commissario Geral at São Fernando, without any kind of payment, or even rations, and with the greatest cheerfulness and good humour.
The men of Javíta when at work wear only the "tanga," in other respects being entirely naked. The women wear usually a large wrapping dress passing over the left shoulder but leaving the right arm perfectly free, and hanging loosely over their whole person. On Sundays and festivals they have well-made cotton gowns, and the men a shirt and trousers. Here exists the same custom as at São Carlos, of the girls and boys assembling morning and evening at the church to sing a hymn or psalm. The village is kept remarkably clean and free from weeds by regular weekly hoeings and weedings, to which the people are called by the Capitãos, who are the executive officers under the Commissario.
My evenings were very dull, having few to converse with, and no books. Now and then I would talk a little with the Commissario, but our stock of topics was soon exhausted. One or two evenings I went to their festas, when they had made a quantity of "xirac"—the caxirí of the Brazilian Indians—and were very merry. They had a number of peculiar monotonous dances, accompanied by strange figures and contortions. The young girls generally came neatly dressed, their glossy hair beautifully plaited, and with gay ribbons or flowers to set it off. The moment the xirac is finished the party breaks up, as they do not seem to think it possible to dance without it: sometimes they make enough to last two or three days. Their dances appear quite national, but they have apparently left off paint, as I saw very little used.
The language spoken by these people is called the Maniva or Baniwa, but it differs considerably from the Baniwa of the Rio Negro, and is not so harsh and guttural. At Tómo and Maróa another language is spoken, quite distinct from this, but still called the Baniwa; a little further down, at São Carlos, the Barré is used; so that almost every village has its language. Here the men and old women all speak Spanish tolerably, there having formerly been priests living at the Convento, who instructed them. The younger women and the boys and girls, not having had this advantage, speak only the native tongue; but many of them can understand a little Spanish. I found considerable difficulty in making myself intelligible here. The white men, who are called "rationáles" (rationals), could understand my mixed Portuguese and Spanish very well, but the Indians, knowing but little Spanish themselves, cannot of course comprehend any deviations from the ordinary method of speaking. I found it necessary, therefore, to keep my Spanish by itself, as they could better understand a little and good, than a great deal of explanation in the mixed tongue.
Some of my dull and dreary evenings I occupied in writing a description of the village and its inhabitants, in what may probably be very dreary blank verse; but as it shows my ideas and thoughts at the time, I may as well give it the reader in place of the more sober and matter-of-fact view of the matter I should probably take now. I give it as I wrote it, in a state of excited indignation against civilised life in general, got up to relieve the monotony of my situation, and not altogether as my views when writing in London in 1853.
A DESCRIPTION OF JAVÍTA.
"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floods