We cut down some long poles, and I placed one man with a big pole on guard at each corner close to the water, in order to push the canoe away toward the middle of the stream in case she came too near those dangerous points.
That channel was some 600 m. long. When we were ready we let the canoe go, all spare hands holding fast to the rope, running and scrambling up and down and along the high rocky cliff, the canoe giving us violent jerks when the direction of the current was changed. With much alarm we saw her spring up in the air like a flying-fish on one or two occasions. We ran along like mad, out of breath and sweating, trying to keep ahead of the canoe. The two men with poles also ran along after the danger points were passed, so as to shove her along when she came too near other dangerous rocks.
After a race of great excitement, we all, with bleeding feet and hands—the palms of our hands actually blistered by the rope which slid through our tightly closed fists—were eventually able to pull the canoe safely on shore below the rapid.
In that mad flight I found time to pull out the camera for one second and take a snapshot of the canoe in the middle of the rapid. The photograph is reproduced among the illustrations of this volume.
My men were so tired that it was impossible to go on. Moreover we had before us the second section of that formidable rapid, and we could not negotiate this without emptying the canoe, which was full of water, and readjusting the rope.
We spent the night of August 6th on those rocks, the minimum temperature being 63° F.
When we went on with our dangerous work the next morning we had the greatest difficulty in saving the canoe, as in entering the whirlpool she was swamped, and it was all we could do to pull her back towards the bank before she foundered altogether. The actual drop in that rapid was not less than 8 ft. vertically. We just managed to rest her on a submerged rock until we were able to bale some of the water out.
That canoe was really wonderful in a way. My men patted her on the prow as if she had been an animal, and said she was a good canoe. Indeed she was, but in her old age she felt the strain of that exciting journey. Every time I looked at her I did not know how much longer she might last. Whatever may be said of them, my men must be given credit for their courage in going along in that canoe. I do not believe that there are six other men in Brazil—or perhaps in any other country—who would have ventured to go across even the most placid pond in a similar craft.
After the rapids came a great basin 1,000 m. long, 800 m. wide. There the river described an angle from 20° b.m. to 45° b.m., and we perceived two parallel ranges before us to the N.N.E., the farther one much higher than the one nearer. Some 5 kil. beyond was yet another rapid, but not so troublesome a one this time. The river there diverged from north-east to a direction due west. A hill range, from 150 to 250 ft. high, extended from W.S.W. to E.N.E. An isolated hill, 300 ft. high, could be seen to the E.N.E.
We suffered agony that day from regular clouds of borrachudos, terrible little sand mosquitoes which made life an absolute burden in that region. Our faces, arms, and legs were a mass of ink-black marks left by the stings of those vicious brutes. Particularly when our hands were occupied in holding the canoe going down rapids, or busy with dangerous jobs, did swarms of those little rascals attack us with indomitable fury.