“It is war to the death!” exclaimed Bolivar fiercely, in answer to these atrocities.
And war to the death it was, on both sides—a war of ruthless retaliation on prisoners and neutrals.
So the struggle went on. All the sufferings that accompany warfare were the portion of the miserable people, ruined homes, weeping wives and mothers, sick and dying children, crippled men, starvation, disease, and sorrow-stricken hearts.
SEEING BOLIVAR
High adventure and spicy dangers were awaiting the first corps of hot-headed young Englishmen who volunteered to fight for Venezuela.
They shipped from England. And after thrilling escapes on the coast of Spanish Florida and among the West Indies, after many feasts of venison, wild turkey, turtle, parrots, “tree-oysters,” and lizard, they reached Venezuela.
There, higher adventures and spicier dangers were waiting.
They were convoyed by brig and launches up the swift river Orinoco. They were marched through tropic forest and across llanos or plains, to join Bolivar.
As their boats were rowed through the deep water or poled through the shallows of the Orinoco, they saw most wonderful sights.
Lining the banks, the giant mangrove trees shooting their gnarled banyan-like roots into the water, were linked together by living chains of vines, festooned with brilliant flowers as big as saucers or teaplates. Herds of red monkeys with little ones clinging to their shoulders, chattered, howled, and leaped from tree to tree, following the boats along. Pink flamingoes, gigantic cranes, pelicans, and spoonbills were wading about fishing. Overhead, flocks of red, blue, green, and yellow parrots and macaws flashed to and fro filling the air with screams; while the metallic note of the bellbird, sounded now close to the ear and now far away.