A night encampment in the Amazons is, however, not always so pleasant as the foregoing description might lead one to suppose; for many islands are so infested with mosquitos that they are quite intolerable, and the growl of a jaguar or the sight of a crocodile (for this animal is by no means afraid of fire) not unfrequently disturbs the company. Complete security from these persecutions and visits is only to be found in the centre of the stream; for here a cayman is seldom seen, and the wings of the insects are too weak to carry them to such a distance from the shore.
The most striking features of the Amazons, besides its vast expanse of smooth water, generally from three to six miles wide, are the great beds of aquatic grass which line its shores, large masses of which are often detached and form floating islands; the quantity of fruits and leaves and great trunks of trees which it carries down, and its level banks clad with high unbroken masses of verdure. In places the white stems and leaves of the Cecropias give a peculiar aspect, and in others the straight dark trunks of lofty forest trees form a living wall along the water’s edge. There is much animation, too, on this great stream. Numerous flocks of parrots and the great red and yellow macaws fly across every morning and evening, uttering their hoarse cries. Many kinds of herons and rails frequent the marshes on its banks, and a great handsome duck (Chenalobex jubata) is often seen swimming about the bays and inlets. But perhaps the most characteristic birds of the Amazons are the gulls and terns which are in great abundance. All night long their cries are heard over the sand banks where they deposit their eggs, and during the day they may constantly be seen, sitting in a row on a floating log, sometimes a dozen or twenty side by side, and going for miles down the stream as grave and motionless as if they were on some very important business. These birds deposit their eggs in little hollows in the sand, and the Indians say that during the heat of the day they carry water in their beaks to moisten them, and prevent them being roasted by the scorching sun. Besides these there are divers and darters in abundance, porpoises are constantly blowing in every direction, and alligators are often seen slowly swimming across the river. An amazing number of fishes peoples the waters of the Amazons and its tributaries. They supply the Indians with the greater part of their animal food, and are at all times more plentiful and easier to be obtained than birds or game from the forest. Mr. Wallace found 205 species in the Rio Negro alone, and as most of those which inhabit the upper part of the river are not found near its mouth, where there are many other kinds equally unknown in the clearer, darker, and probably colder waters of its higher branches, he estimates that at least 500 species exist in the Rio Negro and its tributary streams. In fact, in every small river and in different parts of the same river distinct kinds are found, so that it is impossible to estimate the number in the whole valley of the Amazons with any approach to accuracy.
To describe the countless tribes of insects that swarm in the dense forests of that vast basin would be equally vain. In no country in the world is there more variety and beauty, nowhere are there species of larger size and of more brilliant colours. The great mass of the beetles are indeed inferior to those of tropical Africa, India, and Australia, but it is in the lovely butterflies that the Amazonian forests are unrivalled, whether we consider the endless variety of the species, their large size, or their gorgeous colour. South America is the richest part of the world in this group of insects, and the Amazons seems the richest part of South America.
In more than one respect the Amazons reminds one of the ocean, from whose bosom its waters originally arose. Like the sea, it forms a barrier between various species of animals; for the monkeys on its northern bank are different from those of the forests on its southern side, and many an insect—nay, even many a bird—finds an impassable barrier in the enormous width of the river. Like the sea, it has a peculiar species of dolphin, and hundreds of miles up the stream, sea-mews and petrels, deceived by its grandeur, screech or shoot in arrowy flight over its fish-teeming waters. As over the ocean, or in the desert, the illusions of the mirage are also produced over the surface of the Marañon. The distant banks, not always clearly defined even in the morning, disappear wholly at noon, and the rays of the sun are then so refracted that the long rows of palms appear in an inverted position.
The dreadful storms which burst suddenly over the Amazons, likewise recall to memory the tornados of the ocean. The howlings of the monkeys, the shrill tones of the mews, and the visible terror of all animals, first announce the approaching conflict of the elements. The crowns of the palms rustle and bend, while as yet no breeze is perceptible on the surface of the stream; but, like a warning voice, a hollow murmur in the air precedes the black clouds ascending from the horizon, like grim warriors ready for battle. And now the old forest groans under the shock of the hurricane; a night-like darkness veils the face of nature; and, while torrents of rain descend amid uninterrupted sheets of lightning and terrific peals of thunder, the river rises and falls in waves of a dangerous height. Then it requires a skilful hand to preserve the boat from sinking; but the Indian pilots steer with so masterly a hand, and understand so well the first symptoms of the storm, that it seldom takes them by surprise, or renders them victims of its fury.
Among the dangers of the Amazons, the rapids must not be forgotten that frequently arise where large tracts of the bank, undermined by the floods, have been cast into the river. The boat is almost unavoidably lost when carried by the current among the branches of the trees, which, though submerged, still remain attached to the ground, and sweep furiously through the eddy, overturning or smashing all that comes within their reach.
Perhaps no country in the world contains such an amount of vegetable matter on its surface as the valley of the Amazons. Its entire extent, with the exception of some very small portions, is covered with one dense and lofty primeval forest, the most extensive and unbroken which exists upon the earth. It is the great feature of the country, that which at once stamps it as a unique and peculiar region. It is not here, as on the coasts of southern Brazil, or on the shores of the Pacific, where a few days’ journey suffices to carry us beyond the forest district, and into the parched plains and rocky sierras of the interior. Here one may travel for weeks and months inland in any direction, and find scarcely an acre of ground unoccupied by trees.
It is far up in the interior where the great mass of this mighty forest is found; not on the lower part of the river, near the coast as is generally supposed. Bounded on one side by the Andes, on the other by the Atlantic, it extends from east to west for a distance of 2,600 miles; and from 7 N. latitude on the banks of the Orinoco, to 18 S. latitude on the northern slope of the great mountain chain of Bolivia, a distance of more than 1,700 miles. From a point about sixty miles south-east of Tabatinga, on the Upper Amazons, a circle may be drawn of 1,100 miles in diameter, the whole area of which will be virgin forest. Such are the magnificent proportions of these wonderful woods, which speak to the imagination as forcibly as the ocean or the Great Sahara.
The forests of no other part of the world, not even the immense fir-woods of Siberia or of North America, are so extensive and unbroken as this. Those of Central Europe are trifling in comparison, nor in India are they very continuous or extensive. Africa contains some large forests situated on the east and west coasts, and in the interior south of the Equator, but the whole of them would bear but a small proportion to that of the Amazons. In a general survey of the tropical world, we may, therefore, look upon South America as pre-eminently the land of forests, contrasting strongly with Asia or Africa, where deserts are the most characteristic features.
If the Nile—so remarkable for its historical recollections, which carry us far back into the by-gone ages—and the Thames, unparalleled by the greatness of a commerce which far eclipses that of ancient Carthage or Tyre—may justly be called the rivers of the past and the present, the Amazons has equal claims to be called the stream of the future; for a more splendid field nowhere lies open to the enterprise of man.