Across Unknown South America

by Arnold Henry Savage Landor

"Certainly," was my immediate reply. Without a moment's hesitation they were each handed over their full pay, and without giving the slightest attention to them, Alcides, who had remained faithful, and I—poor Filippe had been dragged against himself into the plot—collected all the animals and packed them. Without one look or word—as if they had not existed—I started off the troop of animals and got on my saddle to depart last. With the corner of my eye I kept a watch on them—as with men of that kind the chief danger was when you had your back turned.

I had gone only a few yards when I heard some one sobbing behind my mule. As I turned round, the two outstretched hands of Filippe were handing me back the sum of money I had paid a few moments before. He was begging me to keep it safely for him. Then two more hands urged me to take back for safe keeping the wages they had just received. The faces of the owners of those hands were too comic for words: the cheeks shining with abundant tears that streamed down, the eyes red and swollen, the mouths stretched in nervous strain from ear to ear. Behind came two more men, looking as mournful as if they were being led to execution.

They all begged to be re-employed. I let them follow—on foot—for several kilometres without saying a word—struggling through the heavy marching painfully and wading across chest-deep in the streams. We crossed the Riberão Chabo or Guebo, 25 metres wide and 3 ft. deep, at an elevation of 730 ft., then shortly after we waded through another stream flowing south, with a zone of wonderful palmeiras along its banks. We then emerged into a magnificent plain with a barrier of low hills to the north-west. Six kilometres farther we waded across the Planchão stream, 5 metres wide and 6 in. deep. Marching on horseback was delightful, the maximum temperature being only 74° Fahr. in the shade. Another stream, flowing from north to south, the Planchãonzinho, whose foul water was quite disgusting to drink, although beautifully limpid, was then negotiated.

I was delighted at meeting with so many streams, for there was nothing my men hated more than to get into the water. They felt very sorry for themselves, to be struggling along as best they could, following the animals like humble sheep instead of being comfortably mounted on quadrupeds. We travelled a considerable distance through campos, but owing to some baggage which had been lost we eventually had to retrace our steps as far as the Planchãonzinho River, on the banks of which we encamped. This was unfortunate, as the water had a sickening flavour and made even our coffee and tea taste like poison.

Misfortunes never come alone. In overhauling my baggage I discovered, to my dismay, that my men—in order to force me to go back the way we had come—had gradually thrown away most of the provisions, which should have lasted us some six to seven months longer. We had only sufficient food to last us a few days. The men confessed their misdeed. The country provided absolutely nothing to eat, and I had to face the problem of either dying of starvation or falling back on some place where we could purchase fresh provisions. It was out of the question—unless one wished to commit suicide and a quintuple murder—to endeavour to push on towards my goal, Manaos on the Amazon, some 1,600 kil. distant as the crow flies, or at least 4,000 to 5,000 kil. travelling, with possible deviations, without some of which it was not possible to travel. We could certainly not fall back on our point of departure, the terminus of the railway at Araguary, 1,596 kil. distant; nor on Goyaz, the last city we had seen, 1,116 kil. away—so that the only way to escape death was to fall back on the ancient settlement of Diamantino, the farthest village in Central Brazil, a place once established by the first Portuguese settlers of Brazil while in search of diamonds.

Diamantino was practically in the very centre of the thicker part of South America, without counting Patagonia. It was almost equidistant—roughly speaking, some 2,560 kil. as the crow flies—from Pernambuco on the Atlantic Coast to the east, Callao (Lima) in Peru on the Pacific Coast to the west, Georgetown in British Guyana to the north, and Buenos Ayres in the Argentine Republic. Although so far in the interior and almost inaccessible from the north, east, and west, Diamantino could be reached comparatively easily from the south, travelling by river up the Parana, Paraguay, and the Cuyabá Rivers, as far as Rosario—thence by trail to Diamantino. I had heard that the place was once flourishing, but had since become almost totally abandoned. I thought that perhaps I might be able to purchase sufficient provisions to get along; and—hope being one of my everlasting good qualities—I also dreamt that perhaps I might there get fresh men.

It was indeed with a bleeding heart—when I had reached a point some 200 kil. north of the Serra Azul—that I had to alter my course, which had been practically due north, into a south-westerly direction, and endeavour to find Diamantino. My men were delighted at the prospect of seeing human beings again. We had met no one for some weeks. We made terrific marches daily in order to reach that village before the food gave out altogether.

The nights were cold—47° Fahr. being the minimum at our camp on June 23rd.

We crossed a small range of hills over a pass 930 ft. above the sea level, and found ourselves in a spacious cuvette with the usual central line of buritys and thick vegetation (elev. 900 ft.). Soaring over our heads were a number of gavião caboclo (Hetorospidias meridionalis), a kind of falcon, rending the air with their unmusical shrieks.