The gold hunters

by John David Borthwick

It was about eight o’clock, when, catching hold of a bough of a tree twelve or fifteen feet from the shore, we made fast. We could not attempt to land, as the shore was so guarded by bushes and sunken branches as to render the nearer approach of the boat impossible.

So here we were, thirteen of us, with a proportionate pile of baggage, cramped up in a small boat, in which we had spent the day, and were now doomed to pass the night, our miseries aggravated by torrents of rain, nothing to eat, and, worse than that, nothing to drink, but, worse than all, without even a dry match wherewith to light a pipe. If ever it is excusable to chew tobacco, it surely is on such an occasion as this. I had worked a good deal at the oar, and from the frequent alterations we had experienced of scorching heat and drenching rain, I felt as if I could enjoy a nap, notwithstanding the disagreeableness of our position; but, fearing the consequences of sleeping under such circumstances in that climate, I kept myself awake the best way I could.

We managed to get through the night somehow, and about three o’clock in the morning, as the moon began to give sufficient light to let us see where we were, we got under way again, and after a couple of hours’ hard pulling, we arrived at the place we had expected to reach the evening before.

It was a very beautiful little spot—a small natural clearing on the top of a high bank, on which were one or two native huts, and a canvas establishment which had been set up by a Yankee, and was called a “Hotel.” We went to this hotel, and found some twenty or thirty fellow-travelers, who had there enjoyed a night’s rest, and were now just sitting down to breakfast at a long rough table which occupied the greater part of the house. The kitchen consisted of a cooking-stove in one corner, and opposite to it was the bar, which was supplied with a few bottles of bad brandy, while a number of canvas shelves, ranged all round, constituted the dormitory.

We made up for the loss of our supper by eating a hearty breakfast of ham, beans, and eggs, and started again in company with our more fortunate fellow-travelers. The weather was once more bright and clear, and confined as we were between the densely wooded and steaming banks of the river, we found the heat most oppressive.

We saw numbers of parrots of brilliant plumage, and a great many monkeys and alligators, at which there was a constant discharge of pistols and rifles, our passage being further enlivened by an occasional race with some of the other boats.

The river still continued to become more rapid, and our progress was consequently very slow. The two sailors were quite unable to work all day at the oars; the owner of the boat was a useless encumbrance; he could not even steer; so the gardener and myself were again obliged occasionally to exert ourselves. The fact is, the boat was overloaded; two men were not a sufficient crew; and if we had not worked ourselves, we should never have got to Cruces. I wanted the other passengers to do their share of work for the common good, but some protested they did not know how to pull, others pleaded bad health, and the rest very coolly said, that having paid their money to be taken to Cruces, they expected to be taken there, and would not pull a stroke; they did not care how long they might be on the river.

It was evident that we had made a bad bargain, and if these other fellows would not lend a hand, it was only the more necessary that some one else should. It was rather provoking to see them sitting doggedly under their umbrellas, but we could not well pitch them overboard, or put them ashore, and I comforted myself with the idea that their turn would certainly come, notwithstanding their obstinacy.

After a tedious day, during which we had, as before, deluges of rain, with intervals of scorching sunshine, we arrived about six o’clock at a native settlement, where we were to spend the night.

It was a small clearing, with merely two or three huts, inhabited by eight or ten miserable-looking natives, mostly women. Their lazy listless way of doing things did not suit the humor we were in at all. The invariable reply to all demands for something to eat and drink was poco tiempo (by-and-by), said in that sort of tone one would use to a troublesome child. They knew very well we were at their mercy—we could not go anywhere else for our supper—and they took it easy accordingly. We succeeded at last in getting supper in instalments—now a mouthful of ham, now an egg or a few beans, and then a cup of coffee, just as they would make up their minds to the violent exertion of getting these articles ready for us.