The Highest Point where Author crossed the Andes before reaching the Railway at Oroya.
I was badly in need of rest, and expected to get it on those few days of navigation up the river, having dreamt of how I could lie on deck and do nothing, as that part was well known and there was no work for me to do. But, indeed, on that journey none of my dreams were realized, for, worse luck, the steamer, which had only accommodation for ten, carried not less than seventy or eighty passengers, fifty of them forming part of a Spanish theatrical company which was on its way to Iquitos. The deck of the ship had been turned into a kind of theatre, where rehearsals went on day and night. When the rehearsals were not going on, the men and women, following the usual habits of theatrical people, sang and practised flights of notes—which was a little trying after the dead silence of the forest.
However, thanks to the great civility of the managers of the Booth Line at Manaos, and to the extreme thoughtfulness of the captain of the Atahualpa, I was made quite comfortable in the chart-room of the ship, which was as far away as possible from the noise. We were most of the time in mid-stream. The river was so wide that we could not see anything on either side. We steamed up day after day, occasionally passing islands of some beauty rising above the muddy waters of the Solimões. Navigation of that river was difficult, as the navigable channels were constantly changing, islands disappearing and new islands forming all the time. Elich Island, in the Timbuctuba group, was fast disappearing, while another island was forming just below it.
We passed the mouth of the Putumayo River at sunset one day, a most wonderful effect of clouds being produced over a brilliant cadmium yellow and vermilion sky, shining with great brightness above the dark green trees upon a high reddish cliff.
In a drenching morning at five o'clock we reached Esperança, the Brazilian frontier post, which consisted of half a dozen one-storied houses with red-tiled roofs, situated on a grassy expanse. Grassy hills of no great height rose at the mouth of the Javari River, a southern tributary of the Solimões River, forming there the boundary between Brazil and Peru. Dark green foliage perched high up on asparagus-like stems of trees formed a background to that wretchedly miserable place.
Tabatinga, on the left side of the stream, was the Brazilian military post on the frontier. A neatly-built, loopholed, square blockhouse, painted white, was situated some fifty feet above the level of the river on the summit of the bank. It was reached by a long flight of white cement steps. The Brazilian flag flew gaily upon a flagstaff at this most westerly point of the great Brazilian Republic on the Amazon (Solimões) River.
A few soldiers dressed in khaki stood, with their legs wide apart, watching the arrival of the steamer, while their officers in speckless white clothes hastily descended the long flight of steps and came on board, bringing bouquets of flowers to the captain.
There was a pretty garden near the blockhouse. Three mountain guns pointed viciously at the river from the most exposed position in Tabatinga at the top of the staircase. According to the account of a non-commissioned officer, there was a force there of 240 soldiers "escondido no matto"—that is to say, kept hidden in the forest!