It was destined that our night after the shadow-snake incident should not pass wholly destitute of the pleasures of camp life, as, on putting on my hat before starting, I found that it was wreathed round and round with the clay tunnels of the wood-ant, thousands of which had taken advantage of its position, at the foot of a tree, to erect on it their covered ways before they climbed up aloft. Charlie was highly amused at the appearance of the hat, but soon rid it of its inhabitants by holding it over a fire.
After ascending the falls of Turesie we noticed a long reed performing strange evolutions in the water; this the Indians knew to be an arrow with a pacu at the end of it, which had been shot and then lost by a native. We at once gave chase, and a most amusing hunt followed. Whenever we approached it, one of the crew plunged into the river, and immediately the arrow disappeared to come up again fifty yards off in another direction. This was repeated until the poor fish was tired out and at last landed. Another excitement was in store for us, as hardly had the pacu been caught before we saw in the distance a deer swimming across the river. Away went the three boats in full cry, but the light canoe soon led the chase, and it was a pretty sight to see her shoot through the water amidst a shower of rainbows raised by the splendidly sweeping paddles. Now she gains on the deer, no, the animal will reach the shore; to shoot would be useless, as the body would sink; now he flags, as the distance he has already swum is great, the “Akoora” flies through the water, the crew are near enough to hear the panting of the victim, and the next minute is his last. He proved to be a fine young buck, and was a great acquisition to our stores. I am afraid I did not want him to escape, until he had been captured; but I did then, it seemed so hard that he should have chosen the moment of our arrival for his swim.
Soon after our deer chase we saw a splendid cashew[56] tree loaded with purple-red fruit. This was a treat not to be neglected, and so in a quarter of an hour the tree was down and stripped. The fruit was tart, but extremely refreshing and of a pleasant flavour. Near this place I took a shot at a parrot, and brought him down so little hurt that by the evening he had quite recovered his spirits, and in two days was perfectly tame. He became a great pet, and, as he called himself “Pourri,” we christened him so. Later on, when one of the boats was sent back to the settlement, he accompanied it, and there I found him well and happy on my return.
The river now was freer from impediments than it had been hitherto; the islands were fewer, and occasionally we were in sight of both banks. Owing to its shallowness, sandbanks were numerous, and we frequently were obliged to get out of the boats and push and lift them over. We camped that evening in sight of a range of hills near the Issano river. An Indian who had been following us at a distance in his woodskin,[57] since the previous day, here came up to us. He was skinny and shy, but as berries and cashews had of late formed his chief support, hunger overcame his timidity, and he was thankful for some venison. A few matches pleased him highly, as he had never seen any before, and the small fire which was burning in his boat must have been a continued source of trouble, as if it went out, the relighting of it was a laborious process.
Before sunrise next morning we were afloat on a beautiful clear expanse of water, with a white sandy beach under the trees on both sides. A silvery haze lay over the silent river, and the western hills were seen as if through a filmy veil. As the sun rose, the silver changed to gold in a flood of light that touched the hill crests, and then pouring over the strange, peaceful land, cast rare tints and shades among the drooping trees and into the forest depths. Our painted boats were quite in accord with the bright scene, and the gay feather ornaments of the crews and the gleam of the paddles were strikingly effective. The sky was of a frosty blue, unrelieved by a single cloud.
Near where we stopped for breakfast was an Indian shed—banaboo—and there we found numerous jaws of the pirai, and we were thankful that in our morning bath we had escaped these voracious fish. The pirai[58] is not large, but its jaws are so strong and teeth so sharp that it can take off a finger or a toe at a bite. It will attack anything, even an alligator, and ducks and geese seldom have any feet where this species of fish exists, but a man bathing is an object of peculiar attraction to it. Its flesh is coarse and bony, but the Indians eat it.
Several times that day our attention was directed to a peculiar humming noise, like the distant burr of machinery in motion, proceeding from the water over which we passed. McTurk and the Indians, who had heard similar sounds on the Pomeroon and other rivers, said that they were uttered by singing fish. That it was fish-music there was no doubt, as the nearer we placed our ears to the water the more distinct were the sounds, and on dropping a stone they ceased for a moment and then recommenced. The tone was by no means inharmonious, and resembled the hum of a busy city heard from a high church steeple, or the voice of Saint Francis reading prayers to the fish, to which they were repeating the responses.
As we approached the Teboco hills, one of our Acawais said that he had an uncle who lived in a village not far from the river, and asked permission to visit him. This was readily granted by McTurk, and on finding the landing we all went ashore, and the Indian, quickly dressing himself in a clean shirt and an old hat, evidently with the intention of astonishing the natives and showing them what civilization had done for him, started off with two companions on a two-mile walk through the forest. On the high bank near where we had landed we found an old shed, and near it, not in it, as it probably contained a rich entomological collection, we prepared breakfast, and then awaited the arrival of the absentees.
After a delay of nearly three hours our Indians arrived, and they were quickly followed by the strangest procession I have ever seen. Along the narrow forest path, which led from the clearing in which we were seated, stalked in single file, noiselessly and solemnly, the whole of the inhabitants from the Indian village. There were only twelve or thirteen altogether, men, women, and children, but their slow march and the long intervals between each gave magnitude to their number. As they arrived they touched our hands, and then retired to a short distance, the children trying to hide themselves behind their mothers, but with little success. It was with the utmost difficulty that we could refrain from loud bursts of laughter, so utterly ridiculous was the appearance of the natives. The men were short, but stoutly proportioned, and wore the customary “lap” and bright feathers in their hair. A few had little patches of white fluff stuck about their faces, and all were freshly painted. Their heads were got up in a very elaborate style; the parting of their long black hair was dyed vermillion, and a Vandyck pattern of the same brilliant colour ran round the forehead. Through the nose and ears of each were passed yellow straws or strips of wood, those of the ear resting on that of the nose, and giving a most humorous expression to their pathetic countenances. Some carried a blow-pipe, others a bow and arrows. In addition to their bead aprons, the women wore broad armlets and anklets of beads, and their bodies and limbs were stained and painted in stripes with crimson “arnotto”[59] and blue black “lana.”[60] They were tall in proportion to the men and had well-turned limbs, but in features were coarse and plain.
We were anxious to secure the services of a man who was acquainted with the river and its tributaries; so, selecting the strongest, we found he was willing to accompany us, and at once sent his son for his hammock. In the interval, the ladies and gentlemen entertained us with a dance. Placing their hands on each other’s shoulders, they formed into line, and advanced and retreated in a kind of jig. As there were only two or three steps in it, it became monotonous to all but the dancers, who continued their amusement until the arrival of the hammock. The wife of our late acquisition then bitterly lamented the departure of her husband, and seemed inclined to accompany us herself, but as there was no room for her we had to decline her offer; then she burst into tears and would not be comforted. As a last resource we produced some beads, and immediately tears were dried and the mourning wife was changed to a merry coquette, whose only anxiety was concerning the colour of the ornaments. Shakespeare says:—