The day following, and for the balance of the week, we visited the local places of interest, explored the city in various ways, and were received at a special meeting of the local Geographical Society. Rio de Janeiro is a city of perhaps six hundred thousand inhabitants, with about one hundred thousand foreigners. It is the metropolis of South America, but far, very far, behind Montevideo and Buenos Aires in modern improvements and in all the present arts of civilization. It is essentially a commercial city, a center from which exports are sent and imports distributed throughout Brazil and much of South America.
A great deal of money is made here, but the present money has fallen to about one eighth of its actual value. Things cannot be much longer prolonged as the present money market stands, from which it follows that various rumors of a national bankruptcy are current. A well informed resident assured me that a crisis would arrive before our return from the antarctic.
Brazil, in the infancy of its republican form of government, has very many political difficulties to settle. There is more political discussion to the square mile in Rio de Janeiro to-day than to an equal space on any other part of the globe with which I am familiar. A rebellion has just been subdued in a northern province, but from the south comes fresh news of another attempted secession. The several states of Brazil seem to be loosely bound together and before the country finds its true equilibrium many changes will probably occur.
As a city Rio de Janeiro has been so well and so often described that I shall only give here the briefest outline of a few points of interest as they impressed us. The houses are all of stone or brick, rarely more than two stories, built on an irregular hilly surface, mostly facing the ever visible and always enchanting inland sea, the harbour. The rear of the city is lost between the rising hills which encircle the harbour. The streets are very narrow, are paved with granite, and are always alive with people of several colors and of all nationalities. The business streets have an air of bustle and Yankee thrift, but the side streets are clothed in the usual perpetual ease of the tropics.
The city is easily traversed by electric and mule cars; even the mountains are ascended by electric and steam roads, which required great engineering skill in construction. Carriages and waggons are almost entirely drawn by small mules. The numerous sights and breathing places are reached without much trouble and very cheaply, for Rio has perhaps the cheapest carfare of the world, less than three cents a ride. Rent is nearly as high as in New York in the better or healthier parts of the city; wages are good, but living in general is expensive. Nearly all the foreigners, however, consider it an excellent business place. The health of the city is good, excepting occasional epidemics of yellow fever, and, if it were not for the intense heat of summer, Rio would offer a bright future for young, ambitious Europeans and North Americans.
It would hardly be expected that poleward-bent explorers would grow enthusiastic about any place in the torrid zone, but Rio de Janeiro, with all its heat, has people with warm hearts, who were to us a pleasant inspiration. It has fruits and coffee which are a joy to the inner man; it has abundant natural resources which will some day make it a great, a very great, city.
Saturday at 2 o’clock was set for the time of sailing, and although we appreciated the honors and pleasures conferred upon us by the hospitable Belgians and Brazilians, the appointed time found us all eager to continue our voyage toward the south pole. Many visitors were on board at the last moment. The Minister, with his fatherly interest in the expedition, the Belgian committee, representatives of the Rio Geographical Society, and various other distinguished visitors were there to bid us au revoir and bon voyage. Among the visitors were a couple of young ladies who received an unusual share of warm attention from the prospective frigid explorers. A desire to kidnap them as a diversion to break the long monotony of the journey was frequently expressed and no doubt deeply felt by at least one lonely bachelor. The last visitor was a young Brazilian in a gaudy uniform, who came by a special Government launch as a representative of the President. His particular mission was to offer us the President’s compliments and his wishes for a good, successful voyage. This we appreciated as a delightful bit of thoughtfulness on the part of President Barros.
On board the Belgica everything was bustle and haste. Provisions were coming, new articles of equipment were being loaded and stored away, visitors were going to and fro examining our curious instruments and the general outfit. Tugs were all around the craft and one, with several photographers, kept spinning around, snapping at the center of curiosity from every side. At three o’clock the Commandant gave the order to start, and the entire mass moved with us. The visitors remained on deck, and the tugs followed.
The commercial part of the harbour, with its steaming heat and teeming mass of conglomerate humanity, soon fell behind more interesting points. Several foreign cruisers were in the harbour among them our Cincinnati, and these kept us busy replying to salutations and cheers. As we passed the old battered fort of S. João we rather expected a series of salutes, but instead a large band appeared on a low crown of torn cliffs playing lively airs. Now and then the musicians would stop and fill the atmosphere with quaint cheers, all of which pleased us far better than a display of powder.
As we advanced, a rather strong wind ruffled up an uncomfortable sea, and as we approached the narrows, which are guarded by two ancient looking forts, it was deemed best to part with our visitors. The Brazilian men humored and kissed us, as is their custom—the men only, not the ladies. Our good friends of the Belgian Colony offered many cordial greetings, and as the tugs withdrew from us, the oft-repeated au revoir and bon voyage came with every leap of the sea.