We ascended two rapids, and then came to the rather steep falls of Kosterbroke. A sad interest is attached to this place, as it was here that in 1863 seven young men lost their lives. A pleasure party, consisting of visitors from Trinidad and others who had been engaged in a cricket match at Georgetown, visited the settlement and ascended the Mazaruni as far as these rapids; whilst descending them, the tent-boat capsized and seven of its occupants were drowned. Report says that a midshipman, who formed one of the party, was swept away and given up for lost, but was discovered later on sitting on a rock in mid channel, drying a five-pound note in the sun.
The ascent of these cataracts affords a very lively and exciting scene. All hands, except the steersman, leave the boat, a long stout hawser is fastened to her bow, and by sheer strength she is hauled up through the rushing waters. Some of the crew wade by the side of the boat, to keep her from the rocks, others swim or dive across from adjacent points to where the best purchase can be secured, and the rest, holding the rope, pull with might and main straight up the current. A charming variety exists in these rapids; sometimes they may be ascended by taking advantage of the different currents and paddling with great power diagonally across the channel; others have short but steep falls, and others again extend for a long distance in a series of steep inclines, whilst the volume of pouring water in a few is so great that boats have to be carried round them overland. At the Warimambo Rapids, which we reached soon after passing Kosterbroke, we had to unload the boats and make a portage of about two hundred yards. A lot of negro woodcutters, who sat grinning at us on the rocky banks, informed us that it would be impossible for us to haul the boat up those rapids, but our men worked splendidly, and in about two hours we had loaded the boats and were off again.
The river here presented an extraordinary appearance from its great breadth and the innumerable rocks which cropped up in every direction. Many of these rocks were covered with the pretty pink flower of some water-plant. The islands and the low mainland were covered with virgin forest, whose intense green was relieved at intervals by the blazing crimson spikes of the kara-kara[38] or the various tinted canopies of the giant moras. The mora[39] may be termed the oak of the tropical forests of Guiana, as it far exceeds other trees in dimensions; its lofty wide-spreading branches, with glossy foliage changing from purple to red, add a distinctive charm to the scenery, but a deceptive one, as frequently we would exclaim. “At last there is some rising ground,” which on approach proved to be only two or three moras towering above the rest of the forest trees. Besides the moras, we were continually passing many varieties of the valuable timber with which Guiana is so plentifully supplied. Now a green-heart[40] or a splendid purple-heart, occasionally a “letter-wood” tree and numerous “ballis,” such as mora balli—balli meaning wood, and when attached to a word signifies akin to: itaballi, hubaballi, silverballi, &c.[41]
McTurk from practical experience in superintending Government wood-cutting was quite an authority on timber, and cast many longing eyes on grand trunks that would have squared from twenty to twenty-eight inches, with a length of from seventy to eighty feet. Overhanging the river, were also many shrubs of the “mahoe,”[42] whose bright yellow flowers contrasted with climbing purple petrœas and crimson passion-flowers. But the bright colours were mere islets in the surrounding sea of green, and it was necessary to observe closely in order to note the varying forms of vegetable life.
After the Warimambo, we came almost immediately on some very steep rapids, but which fortunately had sufficient depth of water to allow of the boats being hauled up without unloading. Here one of the crew nearly lost his life, as he was swept off his feet by the strong current, and only just caught the rope in time to save himself from being carried over a dangerous eddy, in which, as he was a weak swimmer, he would probably have been sucked under and drowned. He attributed his safety to the strictness with which the Indians had observed the proper respect due to a trogon that had flown over our heads in the morning; they have a superstition that, if on setting out on a journey they should turn their backs to this species of birds, ill luck will surely follow.
That evening we camped under some fine green-hearts that grew on the banks, which were here higher than we had hitherto seen. At this period camping was a very short business with us, as owing to the prevailing fine weather no shelter was necessary. On landing, some of the crew collected fire-wood and the cook prepared his provisions; two or three cut away the underbrush and slung up our hammocks on suitable trees apart from the others, and after they had hung their own the camp was finished. As McTurk had been unable to obtain at Georgetown a cook who was willing to work and carry loads like the other men, we were entirely at the mercy of the Indians, whose ideas of cookery were of the most primitive description. To them their rations of salt fish, rice, and fat bacon were luxuries, and a small alligator they considered a prize, but McTurk and I often agreed that our very plain fare would have been improved by even moderate cooking. Of canned meats and relishes, we had to be very sparing, but of flour we had an unlimited supply. But here again we failed in having any means of rendering the flour palatable, although it perforce formed the chief item of our meals. It was prepared in two ways; in the first, the flour was kneaded into a cake of dough, roasted on the embers and called a “bake;” in the second it was kneaded into a ball of dough, boiled in a pot and called a “dumpling;” under either name it was equally leathery and indigestible, and only with butter, of which we had a very small supply, and brown sugar, was it possible to eat it. Later on in our journey we made a slight improvement in the bakes and dumplings by adding some of “Eno’s Fruit Salt,” which had been recommended to us as containing valuable properties for a cooling drink in case of fever, thereby causing the flour to rise and the cakes to become lighter. It was certainly a novel baking-powder, but it succeeded. In future years should a traveller discover one of these “bakes” on the banks of the river, he will be puzzled about its origin, and will probably conclude that it is the fossil remains of some extinct species of shell-fish.
The crew took it in turns to cook for themselves, whilst the smartest of them became our own particular “chef,” and a strong active young fellow, called “Charlie,” acted as our trenchman. Charlie could turn his hand to anything, from building a house to making a basket, and was always ready and willing; he and his duplicate, Sammy, were the ones who worked hardest in and out of the water; they carried the heaviest loads, they shot the most game, were most skilful in raising shelters, and were the two who were never ill. Sometimes in the night a rain storm would come on, and Charlie was always ready with tarpaulins to stretch over our hammocks.
The nights were usually warm, but the mornings were chilly, and an early plunge into the river was like a warm bath, so great was the difference between the temperature of the air and water. And those morning and evening swims in the clear brown water—brown from the colouring matter of the wallaba[43] trees—of the broad Mazaruni were delightful, especially when contrasted with the tiny bucketful and the narrow bath-room of the hotel at Georgetown!