Roraima and British Guiana, With a Glance at Bermuda, the West Indies, and the Spanish Main

by J. W. Boddam-Whetham

The historian Hume says: “So ridiculous are the tales which he tells of the Inca’s chimerical empire in the midst of Guiana; the rich city of El Dorado or Manoa, two days journey in length, and shining with gold and silver; the old Peruvian prophecies in favour of the English, who, he says, were expressly named as the deliverers of that country long before any European had even touched there; the Amazons, or republic of women; and in general, the vast and incredible riches which he saw on that continent, where nobody has yet found any treasures!”

As regards the Amazons and the Ewaipanomi, there are plenty of civilized Indians who still assert the existence of a wonderful race of beings who inhabit certain portions of Upper Guiana, which as yet have been untrodden by white men. Concerning the golden city on the inland sea, it is not improbable that the origin of the romance arose from the fact that the low alluvial lands around Lake Parima were inundated every year to such an extent that the natives navigated the forests in their canoes. The chief of a certain tribe who inhabited this locality, is said to have indulged in the luxury of a golden shower-bath every morning, that is, he powdered himself with a glittering but valueless substance called golden sand, which is merely iron ore in minute particles. Hence his cognomen, El Dorado, or the Golden Man. His palace was found to be a natural grotto, the walls of which were formed of micaceous rock that shone with a yellow metallic glitter. It may be that the glittering mica, derived from the granite which is prevalent in Guiana, deluded Raleigh into the belief that it was gold, for he says, when speaking of a ledge of “white sparre or flint,” that he endeavoured to break it by all the means that he could, “because there appeared on the outside some small grains of gold ... of which kind of white stone (wherein gold is engendered), we saw divers hills in every part of Guiana wherein we travelled.”

To return to the settlement. Immediately on landing I was met by McTurk, who, in spite of the day being far advanced, wisely determined to start at once; and so, throwing aside those trammels of civilization, coat, collar, and waistcoat, we stepped into our boats and were ready for our trip of two or three months into the interior. Two ordinary-sized boats—or bateaus, as they are called—and a strong well-built canoe composed the fleet. In colour they had been respectively painted red, white, and blue, and each was named after a certain species of frog; the largest was the “Bura-buraloo,” the next was the “Adaba,” and the canoe was the “Akoora.” The crew consisted of fifteen civilized Indians—Arawaak and Acawais—good and tried men, most of whom had been on short expeditions with McTurk, and who therefore understood his ways and were aware that when he said a thing he meant it, that faithfulness and good conduct would be rewarded, and laziness and bad behaviour as surely punished. They nearly all understood a little English, but they preferred a sort of “pigeon” English peculiar to McTurk, and which always reminded me of a stage Dutchman’s language. The strongest and most intelligent Indian in each boat is the captain, who, seated in the stern, uses his paddle to direct the course. Next to him in rank is the bowman, who has to keep a sharp look out for rocks and shoals.

Each boat was laden with provisions,[37] which were limited as far as possible to absolute necessaries, as after leaving the boats we knew that the difficulties of transportation would be very great. In addition, there was our own clothing—a very slender supply—guns, ammunition, trading articles, pots and pans, &c., everything, certainly, reduced to a minimum, but nevertheless, forming sufficiently heavy loads.

Before starting, I cast longing eyes at two or three luxurious tent-boats, provided with awnings, lockers, and curtains, all of which were denied us; but before many days I recognised the superiority of our own, as the long drought had shallowed the river, and it would have been impossible for the deep tent-boats to have ascended some of the cataracts. Taking our seats in the centre of our respective boats, McTurk gave the word, and in an hour the strong paddles of our crews had placed a considerable distance between us and the settlement, and we were really on the way to Roraima. At one time we feared that our start would prove inauspicious, as the strong wind blowing up the river raised such waves that once or twice we were almost swamped, but gradually we gained the opposite coast, and under the lee of the land entered comparatively smooth water.

Owing to the lateness of our departure we soon had to camp, and spying an old shed near the water’s edge, we landed, slung up our hammocks, and there passed the night. To a traveller, I know of no cheaper luxury than a hammock. On a former long journey through the tropics I had burdened myself with a folding bed, thinking from very slight experience that to sleep in a hammock would be impossible. But now I discovered that a well-slung hammock, in which you have placed yourself diagonally, not parallel, so that your head and feet are too elevated, is a very delightful place of rest. By day a pleasant lounge, by night a clean bed even in dirty hovels, unscalable by insects, light and compact, easily put up and easily taken down, a hammock becomes an indispensable companion, especially dear when travelling in countries where even the most necessary articles have to be limited. We could hardly have selected a more likely spot for those pests of Guiana, namely, vampires and jiggers. The former frequent the clearings around sheds and houses, and in the dead of night when all are asleep—they never pay their visits as long as even one person in a party is awake—they fasten on an exposed toe or some part of the foot and cup the sleeper, who awakes faint and exhausted. Horses and cattle suffer equally from their attacks, and fowls frequently drop dead from their perches, their life blood drained to the very last drop. As a provision against these unpleasant visitors I had provided myself with a long double blanket, so that under no circumstances could a forgetful toe exhibit itself outside its covering.

A jigger (Pulex penetrans), as everyone knows, is a toe-loving creature, and makes its nest under the nails, and, if allowed, lays its eggs. As they swarm in every deserted hut and in every old Indian shed, and in sand, it is impossible to avoid them; morning and evening a strict examination of the feet by a competent Indian is absolutely necessary when travelling in the interior. In spite of great care and watchfulness on our part a search was seldom unrewarded, but we never approached the number once collected by Sir Robert Schomburgh, of whom it is related that a negress once extracted eighty-three from his feet at one sitting.

But, notwithstanding jiggers and vampires, the nights on the Mazaruni are always enjoyable because there are no mosquitoes; in many parts of Guiana, especially on the Pomeroon River, these plagues are so bad that cattle have been driven wild by them, and are always obliged to be shut up at night in mosquito-proof sheds; there, also, a mosquito net is invariably included in the agreement between master and labourer. Here we were free from them, and a patent hammock mosquito netting that had been given me by a kind friend in Georgetown was devoted to other uses.

Next morning we made an early start, and soon passed Coria island, on which a Dutch fort once stood, and the last that we saw of civilization was the little mission-house of St. Edward’s, picturesquely situated on the opposite bank of the mainland. Above this point we entered that labyrinth of islands which, together with the innumerable rapids and cataracts, form the chief features of the Mazaruni River for nearly one hundred miles. Only one of our crew had ever ascended the river before, and, as he did not appear to remember much about it, we determined to keep to the main channel, as being the safest, out of the numerous ones into which it was divided. This was no easy matter, as, on account of the lowness of the water, and the great breadth—between three and four miles—of the river, it was often very difficult to decide which was the main channel, and sometimes we found our passage barred by shallows and had to return and seek another.