The women do most of the work, while their lazy lords drink up the chicha and swing in their hammocks, or possibly do a little hunting.[101] They catch fish with bone hooks, seines, spears, and by poisoning the water with barbasco.[102] This last method is quite common throughout equatorial America. Mashing the root, they throw it into the quiet coves of the river, when almost immediately the fish rise to the surface, first the little fry and then the larger specimens. The poison seems to stupefy rather than kill, for we observed that some individuals behaved in a most lively manner shortly after they were caught. The Indians drink the water with impunity.
The Napos are not brave; their chief weapons for hunting are spears of chonta wood, and blowpipes (bodaqueras) made of a small palm having a pith, which, when removed, leaves a polished bore, or of two separate lengths of wood, each scooped out with patient labor and considerable skill by means of the incisor teeth of a rodent. The whole is smeared with black wax, a mouth-piece fitted to the larger end, and a sight made of bone imbedded in the wax. Through this tube, about ten feet long, they blow slender arrows cut from the leaf-stalks of a palm. These are winged with a tuft of silk-cotton (common cotton would be too heavy), and poisoned with urarí, of which we shall speak hereafter. This noiseless gun is universally used on the Upper Amazon.[103]
The Zaparos in physiognomy somewhat resemble the Chinese, having a middle stature, round face, small eyes set angularly, and a broad, flat nose. Their language is of simple construction, but nasal and guttural. They have no words for numbers above three, but show their fingers; above ten they know nothing. They take to themselves single names, not double. They reckon time by moons and the ripening of certain fruits. Their name for God is Piátzo, but we could not learn that it conveyed any distinct idea. They believe the evil spirit, "Mungia," is a black spectre dwelling in the woods. They think the souls of the good and brave enter beautiful birds and feed on delicious fruits, while cowardly souls become dirty reptiles. Polygamy is common. They bury in the sitting posture, with the hammock of the deceased wrapped around him. The very old men are buried with the mouth downward. They make use of a narcotic drink called Ayahuasca, which produces effects similar to those of opium. The Zaparos are pacific and hospitable, but there is little social life among them; they never cluster into large villages, but inhabit isolated ranchos. Nomadic in their habits, they wander along the banks of the Napo, between the Andes and the Marañon. They manufacture, from the twisted fibre of the chambiri-palm,[104] most of the twine and hammocks seen in Eastern Ecuador. Their government is patriarchal.
The Jívaros, or "Red Indians" par excellence, are the most numerous and the most spirited of the oriental tribes. They are brave and resentful, yet hospitable and industrious. While the Napos and Zaparos live in rude, often temporary huts of split bamboo, the warlike Jívaros erect houses of hard wood with strong doors. Blood relations live together on the communal principle, the women keeping the rear half of the house, which is divided by a partition. Many Jívaros approach the Caucasian type, the beard and lighter skin hinting a percentage of Spanish blood; for this tribe was never conquered by the Incas, nor did it brook Spanish avarice and cruelty, but in one terrible conflict (1599) the intruder was swept out of existence. The wives of the El Dorado adventurers spent the rest of their days in the harems of the Jívaros. These Indians have the singular custom and art of compressing the heads of their notable captives; taking off the skin entire and drying it over a small mould, they have a hideous mummy which preserves all the features of the original face, but on a reduced scale."[105] They also braid the long black hair of their foes into girdles, which they wear as mementoes of their prowess. They use chonta-lances with triangular points, notched and poisoned, and shields of wood or hide. They have a telegraphic system which enables them to concentrate their forces quickly in time of war; large drums are placed on the tops of the hills, and a certain number of strokes, repeated along the line, rapidly convey intelligence to the most distant habitation.
An odd custom prevails among these wild Indians when an addition is made to the family circle. The woman goes into the woods alone, and on her return washes herself and new-born babe in the river; then the husband immediately takes to his bed for eight days, during which time the wife serves him on the choicest dainties she can procure.[106] They have also the unique practice of exchanging wives. The Jívaro speech is sonorous and energetic. They do not use salt; so that they distinguish the Napo tribes as the "Indians who eat salt." The chief articles manufactured by them are cotton goods and blowpipes. They trade mostly at Canélos and Macás, generally purchasing iron implements, such as hatchets and knives.
Canélos consists of about seventy families of Quichua-speaking Indians, and lies on the south bank of the Bobonaza. A trail connects it with Baños, at the foot of Tunguragua. Canélos was founded in 1536, and derives its name from its situation in the Canéla, or American cinnamon forest. The bark of the tree has the flavor of the Ceylon aromatic; but, according to Dr. Taylor, it is cassia. Macás, in the days of Spanish adventure a prosperous city under the name of "Sevilla de Oro," is now a cluster of huts on the banks of the Upano. Its trade is in tobacco, vanilla, canela, wax, and copal. The Spaniards took the trouble to transplant some genuine cinnamon-trees from Ceylon to this locality, and they flourished for a time.
On the 30th of October we left Quito on our march across the continent, by the way of the Napo wilderness. The preparations for our departure, however, commenced long before that date. To leave Quito in any direction is the work of time. But to plunge into that terra incognita "el Oriente," where for weeks, perhaps months, we should be lost to the civilized world and cut off from all resources, east or west, demanded more calculation and providence than a voyage round the world.
We were as long preparing for our journey to the Amazon as in making it. In the first place, not a man in Quito could give us a single item of information on the most important and dangerous part of our route. Quitonians are not guilty of knowing any thing about trans-Andine affairs or "oriental" geography. From a few petty traders who had, to the amazement of their fellow-citizens, traversed the forest and reached the banks of the Napo, we gleaned some information which was of service. But on the passage down the Napo from Santa Rosa to the Marañon, a distance of over five hundred miles, nobody had any thing to say except the delightful intelligence that in all probability, if we escaped the fever, we would be murdered by the savages. The information we received was about as definite and reliable as Herndon obtained respecting any tributary to the Lower Amazon: "It runs a long way up: it has rapids; savages live upon its banks; every thing grows there." From M. Gillette, a Swiss gentleman trading at Pará in Moyabamba hats, we learned about the movements of the Peruvian steamer on the Marañon; but how long it would take us to cross the mountains and the forest, and descend the river, we must find out by trial.
The commissary department was of primal importance. As, from all we could learn, we could not depend upon obtaining supplies from the Indians or with our guns,[107] it was necessary to take provisions to last till we should reach the Marañon. But how long we should be in the forest and on the river, or what allowance to make for probable delays, it was impossible to prophesy. The utmost caution and forethought were therefore needed, for to die of starvation in the wilderness was, for all practical purposes, equivalent to falling into the hands of cannibals. As it turned out, however, we made a most fortunate hit, for on arriving at Pebas—the first village on the Marañon—we found we had just enough solid food left to have one grand jubilee dinner.
For the benefit of future travelers, and for the curiosity of others, we give the bill of fare we provided for this journey—stomachs, five; time, forty-two days: