How the cayman was dragged out of the water, and how Mr. Waterton jumped upon its shoulders, and disabled it by seizing its fore-paws and twisting them on its back, is matter of history. The tale was generally disbelieved at the time, and gave rise to no small amount of banter; but it is a perfectly true one, and the objections to it have long died away. Indeed, one of Mr. Waterton’s men, who was then little more than a mere lad, was, as an old man, in the service of one of my friends, and corroborated every word of the story.
As might be inferred from the natural apathy and indolence of the natives, they have but few games. They only work by fits and starts, and spend a very large proportion of their time in their hammocks, caring little for those contests of skill and strength which are so absorbingly interesting to the inhabitants of cooler and more bracing climates. There is, however, one such game which is played by the Waraus, who have already been mentioned as the stoutest and strongest of the tribes. This game is well described by Mr. Brett:—
“There is also a kind of wrestling, or trial of strength, practised by the Waraus at their drinking-bouts, in which each of the antagonists is furnished with a sort of shield, (see [illustration] on page 1260), made of the light branches of the itá, cut into equal lengths, and firmly lashed across a frame three or four feet in height, somewhat less in width, and slightly bending outward.
“The front of each shield is painted in various colors, and with some peculiar device, according to the fancy of the owner. From its upper edge arise elastic stems, generally three in number, adorned with colored tassels, and surmounted with streamers made of the same material as the maquarri whips, and not much unlike them. It has altogether a picturesque appearance.
“Each champion grasps the edges of his shield firmly with both hands, and, after various feints and grimaces to throw his opponent off his guard, a clash is heard, as one springs forward, and his shield strikes that of his adversary. The contest is generally one of mere strength, the shield being pushed forward by the whole force of the body, and supported by one knee, while the other leg is extended behind. Sometimes one of the players is able to push the other off the ground, or, by a dexterous slip and thrust on the flank, to send him rolling on the ground. More frequently they remain pressing, panting, and struggling, till exhausted, when the contest ceases by mutual consent.
“It is then a point of Warau etiquette to shake the shields at each other in a jeering manner, with a tremulous motion of their elastic ornaments, and to utter a very peculiar and ridiculously defying sound, something like the whinnying of a young horse. This is generally followed by a hearty, good-humored laugh, in which the bystanders join. Another couple then step forward to engage.”
The itá palm, of which the Warau shields are made, will be briefly described when we come to that singular branch of the Warau tribe which lives in dwellings raised above the surface of the water. It has already been mentioned that the Waraus are celebrated for the excellence of their canoes. They are universally recognized as the chief canoe builders of the whole country, and to them the other tribes resort from considerable distances. Some of these canoes are large enough to hold fifty men, so that very considerable skill is needed in building them without the instruments and measures by which our own boat builders ensure the regularity of their craft.
There are several forms of these canoes. The most important is that which has just been mentioned. It is hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, and is forced into the proper shape partly by means of fire, and partly by wedges and cross planks. The largest of the canoes have the sides made higher by a narrow plank of soft wood, which is laced upon the gunwale, and the seam well caulked. The canoe is alike at both ends, the stem and stern being pointed, curved, and rising well out of the water. There is no keel, and it draws but a few inches of water. This formation would be very awkward in our own rivers; but in those of Guiana, such as the Essequibo, there are so many falls and rapids, that the canoe must be especially adapted for them. This kind of canoe is called a curial, or corial.
The perils of the rapids have been well told by Mr. Brett:—“Advantage is taken of the eddies which are found at the base of the huge rocks that interrupt the stream. The Indians pass from rock to rock by wading, leaping, or swimming, and by means of a hawser haul the boat through the rushing water from one resting point to another, the steersman meantime keeping his seat, and sometimes lashed to it, striving with his large paddle to guide in some degree her course. The waters dashing and foaming amidst the surrounding rocks render this operation as exciting as it is difficult. Still more exciting and dangerous is the task of descending these rapids. The safety of all then depends on the perfect steadiness of those in the canoe, and on the bowman and steersman acting in concert and with instant decision.
“The canoe is kept in the very centre of the current, one of her best hands kneeling, with quick eye and ready paddle, in the bow, and the rest of the men exerting their strength to give her headway. Darting swiftly along, she arrives at the edge of the fall, and, pointing downward, shoots into the surf below it, dashing it up on either side, and leaving her crew alone visible. If all be well, rising above the fall, she obeys the guiding paddles in stem and stern, and dances over the tumbling waves, while her excited crew with a triumphant cry exult at their success.”