Junction of the river Itenez—Short description of the Itenez or Guaporé and its affluents—Fires at night prohibited on account of savages—A capybara shot—Abundance of game above the rapids—False alarms of attack by savages—Cooking-stove rigged up in the canoe—The river Matocari—Hard work towing canoe—Open pampas—Strong gale from the south hinders progress—Chocolotales of Exaltacion—Falling banks—Estancia de Santiago—Value of oxen in the Estancias of Mojos.
June 7th. Starting at twenty minutes past midnight, we were soon left behind by the other canoes, and at daybreak there was a thick mist on, which cleared up by about seven o’clock; but no canoes were in sight. On the left bank there are many lagoons, for the number of ducks, cranes, and other waterfowl hereabouts was very great. We passed a long stretch of falling bank, with some trees overhanging, and looking, as we passed under them, much as though they would fall on us. The current underneath these falling banks is always very strong, and gives great trouble to overcome, on account of the large number of trees and dead wood at the foot of the bank. The river began to widen considerably, and as the wind blew strongly up stream, a very considerable sea soon arose.
About 11 a.m. we got in sight of the junction of a river on the right bank, and at first took it for the Itenez; but it turned out only to be an arm of that river, for, proceeding onwards, we saw the other canoes encamped upon a large sandbank formed between the junction of the Itenez and the Mamoré. The river Itenez, whose waters are clear and dark-coloured, whilst the Mamoré’s are muddy and whitish, is much wider than the Mamoré, which, however, gives its colour to the united waters below the junction, thus proving, probably, that the volume of its waters is greater than that of the Itenez. Both these rivers are exceedingly handsome at the junction, and so fine a “meeting of the waters” it would be difficult to match. This junction may be said to be the point of union of the extensive system of rivers that flow over the northern plain of Bolivia, and down part of the southern slope of the Cordilhera Geral, in the province of Mato Grosso in Brazil. The river Itenez in its higher portions is called the Guaporé, its head waters being separated from those of the river Paraguay by a land portage of but few miles in length. There are but few settlements or villages upon its right bank, or on the tributaries that empty themselves into it on that side, the town of Mato Grosso, near the source, being the one of most consequence, while the fort of Principe da Beira, about fifty miles from the junction, is simply a Brazilian outpost, at which, however, a considerable fortification has been erected. On the left bank there enter two rivers, called the Maddalena and the Baure, or Blanco, which are entirely in Bolivian territory; and on these rivers are some important villages, peopled by different tribes of civilized Indians, who were Christianized by the Jesuit missionaries of the Beni, and are to-day reckoned with that department. On a branch of the Baure River, near the abandoned missions of San Simon and San Nicolas, gold quartz veins of surpassing richness have, for some years, been known to exist, and a Chilian society has lately been formed to work these reefs. With the river Itenez we have nothing more to do; the Mamoré, the sources of which are all in Bolivian territory, being the river up which the journey was prosecuted.
In this part of the journey the Bolivians talk a great deal of the presence of “barbaros,” and orders were given that the canoes should not separate as they had hitherto done; but I had little hope that the order would be carried out, for my men had taken it into their heads to be sick again with fevers and ague, so that my canoe was generally a long way behind the others.
We left the junction of the rivers about 3 p.m., and at 5 p.m. stopped again for the evening meal, starting again in about half an hour, and keeping on till about nine, when we stopped at a large playa for the night. Here the Bolivian patrons gave a good sample of the discipline they maintain with their Indians. The orders were that, as we were in territories supposed to be much roamed over by the savages, we were to start early—as soon after midnight as possible—keep on till breakfast-time, about 8 or 9 a.m., then on again till dinner, about 5 or 6 p.m., when we were to shift quarters again ahead to some convenient spot—a playa, if possible—where, making fast the canoes quietly, we were to sleep till midnight, and then start ahead again. At this sleeping-place no lights or loud talking to be allowed. Instead of this, when we got to this playa, one of the crews, who had some lumps of alligator flesh unroasted, lit fires and cooked the meat, and the patrons said nothing to them; and it appeared to me that the fear of losing the meat, although they had an enormous quantity already roasted, was greater than the fear of attack from the barbaros. Doubtless there are barbaros hereabouts, especially in the lands bordering on the Itenez, and higher up the Mamoré; there is also an igarapé below the junction of the two great rivers on the left bank, which leads up into districts bordering on the higher parts of the Beni, where the Chacobo barbaros are said to be in great numbers; but it is a chance that they should be on the great river, and my experience would go to prove that they will not attack even a single canoe, or else I was lucky enough to ascend the river when they were not on its banks, but up country.
June 8th. We started at 2 a.m., and kept up the right bank of the Mamoré, and having left the Madeira below the junction, we are now altogether in Bolivian territory. This morning I paddled from the start till breakfast-time, at 9 a.m., and kept the men sharp to their work, succeeding so well that we kept up with the other canoes, thus proving that when my men chose to work well there was no reason why we should be behindhand. When I work we have thirteen paddles going, and this number ought to and can send our canoe, which is not a large one, along right well; but if I take a short nap, or rest a time in the camarote, the men sleep at their paddles, and we then drop to the rear.
About 5.30 this morning, before it was fairly light, we passed an open pampa, with an igarapé running out at a sharp angle up stream into the river. It appeared as though it was a large drain cut by hand, for the slopes were just like canal banks, being covered with short grass, while the water running down was clear, and seemingly some three or four feet in depth.
Just above this igarapé I saw a large dark animal, the size of a large hog, moving slowly up the river bank, having, apparently, just emerged from its morning bath. In the dim light I could not be sure whether it was an animal or a savage, but as we were only about a dozen yards from the bank, I dropped my paddle, and taking up my gun, which was always ready to hand, let fly a charge of B B at the moving mass, which rolled down the bank into the river again. It proved to be a “capybara,” or water-hog, and I was much pleased, as I had heard a great deal of this animal, and had never seen it or got a good description of it. The savages make ear ornaments of the front teeth of this rodent, and I have already stated that I was fortunate enough to get four of these from the Pacaguaras of the river Trés Irmãos. The capybara has the body of a pig, the hind quarters slightly humped and covered with long bristles; the feet are three hoofed; legs short and stumpy, but with plenty of flesh on them; the head is almost exactly the shape of a rat’s, with three upper and three lower teeth just like the incisors of a rat or rabbit. Its colour is a dark dun all over. The teeth are very difficult to get out of the head, more than three parts of their length being set in the jaws. The only way is to hang the skull up until it dries sufficiently to allow the teeth to shake out, but this is an affair of some months.
This capybara gave us plenty of good fresh meat, for I should think we got about four or five Bolivian arrobas, say 1 or 1¼ cwt. from him; whole, he took four of my strongest men to drag him along. The meat greatly resembles the flesh of river turtles, but it is not so tough; one can’t compare it to any other kind of animal flesh, it isn’t like beef or pork, but is something like rather tasteless veal. The fat cannot be eaten, as it has a strong fishy taste. On arriving at the breakfast place we cooked some steaks, which were very palatable, and roughly roasted the joints, that being the way in which the meat is kept when time will not allow of its being properly made into charqui, i.e. jerked or dried in the sun.
In the afternoon I shot a cayman for the men, who had for some days been anxious to get one; this fellow was about eight feet long, and was among the reeds (capim) at the foot of the bank. A charge of B B in his eye troubled him seriously, and backing the canoe to him, we finished him with a bullet in the same eye that was wounded by the shot. Hauling him on board, we put him in the bows of the canoe in order that we might roast or “chapapear” him at the first stopping-place. I also shot to-day a large stork, called here a “cabeça seca,” or dry head, very much like, and probably identical with, the “adjutant” of Calcutta. This fellow stands about a couple of feet off the ground, body white with black feathers in the wings, head fearfully ugly, with wattles all down the neck and bare head. In this part of the river every canoe is well stocked with meat, for everything seems eatable here. Birds of all kinds are eaten, except, of course, vultures and hawks, called here “souchus” and “gabilans;” also a very common bird on these rivers, called a “cigana,” and which is I think the “hoopoe;” so, also, everything else, be it monkey, lizard, or alligator, is welcome to the men. This abundance of meat, whether fish, flesh, or fowl, justifies, in some measure, the practice of the Bolivian patrons, of trusting to the shooting above the rapids for meat, and giving all the Obidos charqui, etc., to the men amongst the cachuelas.