My men felt very bad the entire night, but by the next morning they were a little better, although in a most exhausted condition. We had a minimum temperature of 72° F. during the night of August 17th.
We had some luck that evening, for we came to the hut of a seringueiro, a negro, and his wife, who had cut down a portion of the forest near their hut and cultivated some mandioca. Their amazement at seeing us appear was curious to watch, especially when they looked at our canoe—held together with pieces of rope and stopped up with pieces of our garments.
Those poor people, stranded there without a possibility of getting away, were extremely kind. My men heard with delight that we should find no rapids of great importance from that point down stream, and that we might find a few other seringueiros on our way.
I was able to buy from the seringueiro a quantity of food, my men being overjoyed at the prospect of eating feijão again with their meals. Naturally the expense of taking food so far up the river was very great, and I was glad indeed to pay the exorbitant price which the seringueiro asked of £10 sterling for each 50 kilos of farinha; feijão at 6s. a pound; sugar at 5s. a pound—the prices which the seringueiros themselves had to pay for those commodities from the rare trading boats which once a year reached that farthermost point.
We started down stream once more, passing a tributary stream, 5 m. wide, on the left bank. We had only gone 9 kil. when to our great joy we met two trading-boats owned by a Brazilian Jew, who was on board in a critical condition from malarial fever. Although in a dying state, he had not lost his racial commercial ability. It was most interesting to watch his expiring countenance while trying to strike the best bargain possible. He sold me sixty candles for 60s., eight biscuits for the equivalent of 7s. 6d., and a quantity of dried meat at 5s. a pound.
He looked askance at us, as he could not make out who we were, what we were doing up that river, where we could have come from. At last he signed to me that he had something to whisper in my ear. He asked me if I was a runaway cashier from a bank! I told him that if I had been a runaway cashier I would certainly not come and spend my money on the Arinos-Juruena River.
The sight of human beings again—if that term could be applied indiscriminately to all we had met so far—had greatly excited my men.
Some 13 kil. farther, the river being smooth but swift, we came to a basin 700 m. broad, where the river described a turn toward the north-east. We came upon a large clearing on the hill-side on the left bank. There we saw the remains of two or three huts which had been destroyed by fire. We perceived one or two people, and we landed. We found that it was the shed of an enterprising Peruvian trader who had established himself there in order to collect rubber. Only a few days before we arrived a great fire had taken place, which had destroyed nearly all he possessed; but—fortunately for us—they had saved a few things, and I was able to purchase a quantity of rice, biscuits, dried meat, beans, farinha, condensed milk, banho (liquid lard in tins), and a number of other things, such as clothes, shirts, rope, nails, axes, etc., which we needed badly.
The Peruvian trader—of the Brothers Mori's firm—must have had a handsome store indeed at that place, a quantity of jewellery, rifles, pistols, etc., all badly injured by the fire, being seen strewn on the ground as we walked about.
The Peruvians are wonderful traders, most remarkable people for exploring unknown regions and carrying on commerce to the most distant points where human beings are found. That particular Peruvian firm had foreseen that that region will some day develop to a great extent, and they had therefore established their store at the most distant point where it was possible to navigate the river without extraordinary dangers.