At 2 p.m. another halt was ordered for dinner, and then to row on till 10 p.m. for a short rest. About five o’clock we crossed from the right to the left bank, one of Don Miguel’s canoes dropping behind to allow the large batelão and my own canoe to get into proper file, as Don Miguel had given orders to one of his mayordomos always to stop in the rear. Just as I pulled up into my place, I heard shouting, and saw the peons of the rearmost canoe, many of whom had gone on shore, come running down the bank and throw themselves into the river, shouting out “Los bougres! los bougres!” The mayordomo mounted on the top of the camarote with his rifle, and I, concluding that the men had seen barbaros in the forest, ordered my crew to paddle out from under the bank, so that I might get a range for my rifle if necessary. The sun was, however, setting right in our faces, and prevented my seeing what was going on with the other canoe. The mayordomo fired three shots, and, when his peons had struggled into the canoe, paddled away as quickly as possible, shouting to the canoes that were on ahead, and to the crew of one, who, a short distance up stream, had landed on a sandbank, and were roasting alligator-flesh. When we all got together again, I found that the peons who went on shore, declared that they had seen two barbaros in the bush, and that the mayordomo had seen three on the bank some distance down stream. At these he fired, but, from the fact of the sun being in line, he could not be sure whether he hit them or not. Every one was much alarmed, as the savages hereabouts are said to be very bold; having at this spot, about three years ago, attacked a single canoe, killing a Brazilian, who was going to Bolivia as consul, and all his crew except one Indian, who managed to hide in the bush and then find his way by land to Exaltacion. We kept on until 7 p.m., when, crossing the river, we got to a large playa, at which we made fast for the night, no fires being allowed, and the night passed quietly.
June 9th. The start was made at 2 a.m., the canoes working up the right bank until daylight, when we were obliged to cross over to the other side, in order to avoid a strong current that we could not overcome with the paddles. I took a paddle till daylight, and then went on watch, rifle in hand, ready to do my best in case of a discharge of arrows from the bush; but my good fortune prevailed, and although we were, during the greater part of the day, far behind the other canoes, no attack was made upon us. There was a very cold wind from the south beginning to blow to-day, the men seeming to suffer much from it—one of them especially complaining greatly of the effect on his eyes, which were almost closed up, and apparently giving him great pain.
The usual halts for breakfast and dinner were made during the day, and at nightfall we moved on up the river, looking for a playa to pass the night on. While paddling on in the dark, some of the canoes being on either side of the river, we were startled by hearing four shots fired from the canoes on the opposite side to ourselves. It was impossible to cross the river in the dark, and so we had to wait in great anxiety to know what was occurring. The firing ceasing, I kept on up stream, and overtook Señor Morales, who was on the same side of the river, from whence we heard the canoes opposite to us proceeding on their way, and we accordingly judged that there had been a false alarm. Soon afterwards the moon rose, and Don Miguel’s canoes came over to our side, and we learned that they had heard, while waiting for the large canoe that had fallen somewhat in the rear, some suspicious noises in the bush, sticks cracking, as though from being trodden upon; so they discharged their guns in the direction of the sounds, and soon afterwards crossed over to the side where Señor Morales and I were. The funk about barbaros was now at its height, and every little noise in the bush, whether by night or by day, is set down to barbaros following the canoes, until a convenient spot, such as a point of land commanding the canoes as they ascended near the bank, should be chosen for the attack. Arriving at a small playa, which afforded a clear space of about a score of yards to the forest, we made fast for the night, sleeping pretty soundly for a few hours, although we had no watch set or sentinels on guard.
June 10th. Started at 2.15 a.m., and by good luck I was able to keep my canoe somewhat ahead of the others, as towards daylight the other patrons and their mayordomos stopped about a good deal, shooting pavas, which were very numerous hereabouts. I did not get any, as to have tried to do so would have necessitated my stopping also to follow the birds into the bush, and I could not afford to lose the good place I had obtained to-day in the file of canoes.
To-day I rigged up a cooking-stove in the canoe, by filling a large zinc basin that I had with sand, and thus I was able to get a cup of coffee or even some “chupe” for breakfast, prepared by my boy while the canoe was en route. This saved me a good deal of time, and enabled me to get something to eat at the hour most agreeable to me, and as the stoppages for breakfast and dinner were now made very early in the day, I found the invention a very good and useful one.
We had been travelling for the last three days through a very uniformly level country, but slightly raised above the highest flood line, but the forest still continues on either side of the river, the pampas passed as yet having been very small. The river keeps very good for navigation, although the many playas would give a pilot considerable trouble at night, the canoes often getting fast in the mud, and having to be guided into deep water by a man at the bow with a sounding-pole.
June 11th. We started very early at 1.15 a.m., and at 3 a.m. passed an igarapé, on the left bank, called the “Mayosa,” which appears to be one of the few well-known points between the junction of the Itenez and the pueblo of Exaltacion. There was nothing special to record during the day, and about 6 p.m., as we came to a large playa, formed by a rocky formation, we concluded to stop for the night, and let the men get a little more sleep than they had lately been able to have allowed them.
June 12th. Started at 2 a.m., and at 8 a.m. we passed the river Matocari, emptying into the Mamoré on the right bank, its outlet being about fifty yards in width. This stream is said to be navigable as far as the villages of San Ramon and San Joaquin, which are distant from the Mamoré about two days’ paddle during the rainy season. Goods for these villages may in that season be taken up this river, instead of being taken down to the junction of the Itenez, and passing the Fort of Principe da Beira, up the river Maddalena. During the afternoon we passed many pampas on either side of the river, which still keeps a fair breadth of about 500 or 600 yards. The pampas seem to be slightly raised above the highest river level, but sufficiently so to prevent their being flooded except in very high floods. At night we were unable to find any playa convenient for the night halt, so we made fast the canoes to a stump about fifteen yards from the shore.
June 13th. The morning was very cold and chilly; we started at 1.30 a.m., crossing over to the left bank, following in rear of the big canoe, or batelão. Towards 4 a.m. a very strong and cold wind came up from the south, with a thick fog, and we made poor progress, crossing from one bank to another on account of strong currents, in one case having to send the men on shore to pull with the rope, which was very hard work, as the mud on the bank was very soft, making the men very cold, wet, and dirty, as they sank in it at every step up to their knees. When they came on board again, I served them with a ration of cachaça, and when the day broke we found that, notwithstanding all our mishaps, we were well up with the other canoes. The cold wind seemed to make the men very stupid and dull, and their rate of paddling got to be so bad, that, as I was determined not to lose the other canoes, I had to keep on without stopping to cook any breakfast, but made shift with what we had left over from the previous day.
About mid-day we came to large open pampas on either side of the river, which in this part of its course has some very severe bends, some of them being almost right angles. On the left bank is a grove of trees standing alone, and looking almost like young poplars, and as they are on the top of a cliff-like bank of yellow earth cut down by the current straight to the water, they form rather a remarkable landmark. In consequence of repeated crossings of the river to avoid shoals or currents, we made but slow progress, and this part of the river will require a good deal of study before steamers will be able to navigate easily, the playas especially being very numerous, and stretching out a great distance into the river.