At length, on the 12th of February, I left Caripí, my Negro and Indian neighbours bidding me a warm “adios.” I had passed a delightful time, notwithstanding the many privations undergone in the way of food. The wet season had now set in; the lowlands and islands would soon become flooded daily at high water, and the difficulty of obtaining fresh provisions would increase. I intended, therefore, to spend the next three months at Pará, in the neighbourhood of which there was still much to be done in the intervals of fine weather, and then start off on another excursion into the interior.

Chapter VI.
THE LOWER AMAZONS—PARÁ TO OBYDOS

Modes of Travelling on the Amazons — Historical Sketch of the Early Explorations of the River — Preparations for Voyage — Life on Board a Large Trading Vessel — The narrow channels joining the Pará to the Amazons — First Sight of the Great River — Gurupa — The Great Shoal — Flat-topped Mountains — Santarem — Obydos

At the time of my first voyage up the Amazons—namely, in 1849—nearly all communication with the interior was by means of small sailing-vessels, owned by traders residing in the remote towns and villages, who seldom came to Pará themselves, but entrusted vessels and cargoes to the care of half-breeds or Portuguese cabos. Sometimes, indeed, they risked all in the hands of the Indian crew, making the pilot, who was also steersman, do duty as supercargo. Now and then, Portuguese and Brazilian merchants at Pará furnished young Portuguese with merchandise, and dispatched them to the interior to exchange the goods for produce amongst the scattered population. The means of communication, in fact, with the upper parts of the Amazons had been on the decline for some time, on account of the augmented difficulty of obtaining hands to navigate vessels. Formerly, when the Government wished to send any important functionary, such as a judge or a military commandant, into the interior, they equipped a swift-sailing galliota manned with ten or a dozen Indians. These could travel, on the average, in one day farther than the ordinary sailing craft could in three. Indian paddlers were now, however, almost impossible to be obtained, and Government officers were obliged to travel as passengers in trading-vessels. The voyage made in this way was tedious in the extreme. When the regular east-wind blew—the “vento geral,” or trade-wind of the Amazons—sailing-vessels could get along very well; but when this failed, they were obliged to remain, sometimes many days together, anchored near the shore, or progress laboriously by means of the “espia.” The latter mode of travelling was as follows. The montaria, with twenty or thirty fathoms of cable, one end of which was attached to the foremast, was sent ahead with a couple of hands, who secured the other end of the rope to some strong bough or tree-trunk; the crew then hauled the vessel up to the point, after which the men in the boat re-embarked the cable, and paddled forwards to repeat the process. In the dry season, from August to December, when the trade-wind is strong and the currents slack, a schooner could reach the mouth of the Rio Negro, a thousand miles from Pará, in about forty days; but in the wet season, from January to July, when the east-wind no longer blows and the Amazons pours forth its full volume of water, flooding the banks and producing a tearing current, it took three months to travel the same distance. It was a great blessing to the inhabitants when, in 1853, a line of steamers was established, and this same journey could be accomplished with ease and comfort, at all seasons, in eight days!

It is, perhaps, not generally known that the Portuguese, as early as 1710, had a fair knowledge of the Amazons; but the information gathered by their Government, from various expeditions undertaken on a grand scale, was long withheld from the rest of the world, through the jealous policy which ruled in their colonial affairs. From the foundation of Pará by Caldeira, in 1615, to the settlement of the boundary line between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions, Peru and Brazil, in 1781-91, numbers of these expeditions were undertaken in succession. The largest was the one commanded by Pedro Texeira in 1637-9, who ascended the river to Quito by way of the Napo, a distance of about 2800 miles, with 45 canoes and 900 men, and returned to Pará without any great misadventure by the same route. The success of this remarkable undertaking amply proved, at that early date, the facility of the river navigation, the practicability of the country, and the good disposition of the aboriginal inhabitants. The river, however, was first discovered by the Spaniards, the mouth having been visited by Pinzon in 1500, and nearly the whole course of the river navigated by Orellana in 1541-2. The voyage of the latter was one of the most remarkable on record. Orellana was a lieutenant of Gonzalo Pizarro, Governor of Quito, and accompanied the latter in an adventurous journey which he undertook across the easternmost chain of the Andes, down into the sweltering valley of the Napo, in search of the land of El Dorado, or the Gilded King. They started with 300 soldiers and 4000 Indian porters; but, arrived on the banks of one of the tributaries of the Napo, their followers were so greatly decreased in number by disease and hunger, and the remainder so much weakened, that Pizarro was obliged to despatch Orellana with fifty men, in a vessel they had built, to the Napo, in search of provisions. It can be imagined by those acquainted with the Amazons country how fruitless this errand would be in the wilderness of forest where Orellana and his followers found themselves when they reached the Napo, and how strong their disinclination would be to return against the currents and rapids which they had descended. The idea then seized them to commit themselves to the chances of the stream, although ignorant whither it would lead. So onward they went. From the Napo they emerged into the main Amazons, and, after many and various adventures with the Indians on its banks, reached the Atlantic— eight months from the date of their entering the great river.[[1]]

[1] It was during this voyage that the nation of female warriors was said to have been met with; a report which gave rise to the Portuguese name of the river, Amazonas. It is now pretty well known that this is a mere fable, originating in the love of the marvellous which distinguished the early Spanish adventurers, and impaired the credibility of their narratives.

Another remarkable voyage was accomplished, in a similar manner, by a Spaniard named Lopez d’Aguirre, from Cusco, in Peru, down the Ucayali, a branch of the Amazons flowing from the south, and therefore, from an opposite direction to that of the Napo. An account of this journey was sent by D’Aguirre, in a letter to the King of Spain, from which Humboldt has given an extract in his narrative. As it is a good specimen of the quaintness of style and looseness of statement exhibited by these early narrators of adventures in South America, I will give a translation of it: “We constructed rafts, and, leaving behind our horses and baggage, sailed down the river (the Ucayali) with great risk, until we found ourselves in a gulf of fresh water. In this river Maranon we continued more than ten months and a half, down to its mouth, where it falls into the sea. We made one hundred days’ journey, and travelled 1500 leagues. It is a great and fearful stream, has 80 leagues of fresh water at its mouth, vast shoals, and 800 leagues of wilderness without any kind of inhabitants,[[2]] as your Majesty will see from the true and correct narrative of the journey which we have made. It has more than 6000 islands. God knows how we came out of this fearful sea!” Many expeditions were undertaken in the course of the eighteenth century; in fact, the crossing of the continent from the Pacific to the Atlantic, by way of the Amazons, seems to have become by this time a common occurrence. The only voyage, however, which yielded much scientific information to the European public was that of the French astronomer, La Condamine, in 1743-4. The most complete account yet published of the river is that given by Von Martius in the third volume of Spix and Martius’ Travels. These most accomplished travellers were eleven months in the country—namely, from July, 1819, to June, 1820—and ascended the river to the frontiers of the Brazilian territory. The accounts they have given of the geography, ethnology, botany, history, and statistics of the Amazons region are the most complete that have ever been given to the world. Their narrative was not published until 1831, and was unfortunately inaccessible to me during the time I travelled in the same country.

[2] This account disagrees with that of Acunna, the historiographer of Texeira’s expedition, who accompanied him, in 1639, on his return voyage from Quito. Acunna speaks of a very numerous population on the banks of the Amazons.

Whilst preparing for my voyage it happened, fortunately, that the half-brother of Dr. Angelo Custodio, a young mestizo named Joao da Cunha Correia, was about to start for the Amazons on a trading expedition in his own vessel, a schooner of about forty tons’ burthen. A passage for me was soon arranged with him through the intervention of Dr. Angelo, and we started on the 5th of September, 1849. I intended to stop at some village on the northern shore of the Lower Amazons, where it would be interesting to make collections, in order to show the relations of the fauna to those of Pará and the coast region of Guiana. As I should have to hire a house or hut wherever I stayed, I took all the materials for housekeeping—cooking utensils, crockery, and so forth. To these were added a stock of such provisions as it would be difficult to obtain in the interior; also ammunition, chests, store-boxes, a small library of natural history books, and a hundredweight of copper money. I engaged, after some trouble, a Mameluco youth to accompany me as servant—a short, fat, yellow-faced boy named Luco, whom I had already employed at Pará in collecting. We weighed anchor at night, and on the following day found ourselves gliding along the dark-brown waters of the Mojú.

Joao da Cunha, like most of his fellow countrymen, took matters very easily. He was going to be absent in the interior several years, and therefore, intended to diverge from his route to visit his native place, Cametá, and spend a few days with his friends. It seemed not to matter to him that he had a cargo of merchandise, vessel, and crew of twelve persons, which required an economical use of time; “pleasure first and business afterwards” appeared to be his maxim. We stayed at Cametá twelve days. The chief motive for prolonging the stay to this extent was a festival at the Aldeia, two miles below Cametá, which was to commence on the 21st, and which my friend wished to take part in. On the day of the festival the schooner was sent down to anchor off the Aldeia, and master and men gave themselves up to revelry. In the evening a strong breeze sprang up, and orders were given to embark. We scrambled down in the dark through the thickets of cacao, orange, and coffee trees which clothed the high bank, and, after running great risk of being swamped by the heavy sea in the crowded montaria, got all aboard by nine o’clock. We made all sail amidst the “adios” shouted to us by Indian and mulatto sweethearts from the top of the bank, and, tide and wind being favourable, were soon miles away.