In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

One of the curious granite battlements rears its head out of the water to a height of several hundred feet, and is somewhat suggestive of a small edition of the famous Sugar-Loaf Rock at the entrance to the harbor of Rio de Janeiro. This is called Treasure Rock, and no Venezuelan ever passes the spot without casting envious glances to the top. In the days when the old Spaniards were still wandering over the newly discovered lands in search of El Dorado, so the story goes, they penetrated far into the Cerro Sipapo and found rich treasures in gold and precious stones. The Guajibo Indians, in whose domain they had penetrated and whom they had robbed, finally tired of their unwelcome guests and chased them down the river. In desperation the Spaniards formed a stronghold on this island rock, driving iron spikes into its sides as a means of reaching the top; for many weeks they resisted a siege by the savage hordes, but with the coming of the rainy season the Indians withdrew to their mountain fastness. Finally the Spaniards came down, cutting off the spikes as they descended; they feared pursuit, so left the treasure on the rock, hoping to come for it when reinforcements had been secured; they never returned, and to this day the fabulous wealth of the Guajibos lies entombed on the top of the impregnable boulder.

The Meta is a mighty river coming from the immense prairie region of eastern Colombia. It is navigable for the greater part of its course, and should be the means of opening up illimitable grazing areas when the Orinoco is thrown open to free navigation. Where the Meta joins the Orinoco, the latter is fully two miles wide; near its mouth the country is covered with a dense scrub growth. As we neared the mouth of the great river several large canoes filled with Indians, of the Guajibo tribe, shot from an invisible hiding-place near the bank and made for the centre of the stream. They have an unsavory reputation among the river-men, and Captain Solano added little gayety to the occasion when he prophesied an attack and armed his men. On they came, swiftly and silently, the dusky, naked bodies bending in perfect unison, and the great muscles of the arms and shoulders rippling in the sunlight as they drove the short, pointed paddles deep into the water with vigorous strokes; but our suspicions proved to be unfounded. They passed rapidly on some secret mission of their own without even condescending to glance in our direction. This utter indifference to strangers, I found later, is a characteristic common to all Indians of the Upper Orinoco. A man might be drowning or stranded on a rock, but they would pass him quietly in their canoes without apparently seeing him; they would pay not the slightest attention to his cries for help. Their ill treatment at the hands of strangers has been so great that they have lost all confidence in any one unknown to them, and so they retaliate by feigning indifference to him, even in his direst need.

The nights were usually spent aboard ship. If there was no wind it was safe to tie up to some tree; or if darkness overtook us near a playa the anchor was carried ashore and buried in the sand. While the cook prepared supper on the brazier or over a fire built on the bank, hammocks were strung in the rigging, and then we fished until time to retire.

Fish were always abundant and of many varieties. One kind that was taken frequently and that was excellent eating was a catfish, weighing up to twenty-eight pounds, of a deep brownish color with wavy bluish-gray lines running along its sides, called vagre tigre; another species of catfish, frequently of a weight of seventy-five pounds or more, and of a deep slate color, was not uncommon; there was also a third about eighteen inches long, with a large, narrow head and “feelers” as long as the body, that was always sure to be among the catch; but neither of the two last named was ever eaten, as the flesh was said to be poisonous. The crew was always careful to clean all fish immediately and place them under cover; if left exposed to the moonlight overnight they were unfit for food.

The hoarse cough of jaguars was heard almost nightly; it was the season when great numbers of turtles left the river at nightfall to deposit their eggs in the sand-banks, and the jaguars left the forest at dark to dig up and feed on these eggs. One night, just as the boat had drawn up to the high sand-bank preparatory to tying up, one of the huge cats was discovered sitting ten feet above us quietly surveying the scene on deck; there was a rush for the guns, but when they were secured the jaguar had disappeared. A clear sweep of loose sand with a low bush here and there stretched back a mile from the river to the heavy forest, and in the brilliant moonlight it was easy to trace the animal’s tracks as it started toward cover. Several times its shadowy form was visible, slinking from one bush to another a few rods away, but always out of range; after half an hour the tracks were lost in the edge of the forest. We returned to the ship. Before replacing the guns in the hatch some one casually broke his, which action led to the discovery that it contained no shells; neither were the others loaded. One of the men while cleaning them that afternoon had removed the cartridges and failed to reload them. Fortunately, the jaguar is not quite as savage as he is usually pictured, or there might have been a lively scene on the playa.

There is but one other rapid of importance in the Orinoco before reaching the cataracts of Atures, and that is San Borja, not far above the mouth of the Meta. Just above this narrow stretch of seething water we met another boat about the size of the Hilo de Oro, which was cruising back and forth near the bank, her crew directing loud shouts toward the forest at frequent intervals. Upon inquiry we found that one of the men had gone into the woods to cut a pole; the other members of the crew had heard him chopping, as he had not entered the matted vegetation more than fifty feet; suddenly the chopping ceased, but the man did not come out; although they had searched far and near, no trace of him had been found, and this was the fourth day after his disappearance. The supposition was that he had been killed and carried away by Indians.

Perrico was formerly the port of call for sailing craft below Atures. At the time of our arrival there was nothing whatever there, not even a single hut. We continued up the river half a mile to a place called Vagre; here we found the remains of two palm-leaf huts, long since fallen down and overgrown with vegetation. In the small clearing a few cotton-stalks, beans, pawpaws, and castor-bean bushes still struggled for existence with the invading hosts of creepers and second-growth sprouts; the forest was rapidly reclaiming its own. On the sandy river-bank were the tracks of jaguars and caimans. At this point the river is divided into a number of branches by islands, and the one on which Vagre was situated is not over five hundred feet wide. Beyond this point a boat of any size cannot proceed; it is the foot of the series of cataracts, six miles long, known as the rapids of Atures. We sent a man overland to Zamuro for a falca, which is a canoe with the sides heightened with boards; and while our luggage was being rowed up the swift stream, we walked near the bank.

The aneroid, read at water-level, gave an elevation of three hundred and fifty feet; perhaps this is somewhat too high. Between Vagre and Zamuro a row of rounded, black rocks rise to a height of two hundred and fifty feet above the river, on the eastern side. Many boulders of enormous proportions lie sprinkled about in the most irregular manner, as far as we could see, and in spots there are outcroppings of ledges of quartz. The tops of the rounded granite hills are hard and glazed, so that they glisten in the sunlight as if covered with a coating of ice. There are but a few stunted trees, and where any vegetation can get a foothold tough, wiry grass grows; this is the home of many rabbits and rattlesnakes.

Zamuro we found to consist of three grass huts newly built and occupied by sick, miserable Venezuelan families. The heat is terrific, and mosquitoes and sand-flies first begin to make their presence known in considerable numbers. The river scenery is really magnificent; huge boulders of fantastic shape strew the river-bed, and rear their heads high above the seething torrent; against them the water dashes ceaselessly, surging and swirling in mad endeavors to destroy them, only to be baffled by the immovable sentinels and hurled back again to collide with their brethren equally unrelenting and equally impervious to the roaring onslaught. The scene is awe-inspiring.

The next step was to secure ox-carts to carry the impedimenta to the Rio Catañapo, three miles away, and this we crossed in a canoe, landing practically at Atures. The governor of the Upper Orinoco, General Roberto Pulido, made Catañapo his home. He was ordinarily supposed to reside in San Fernando de Atabapo, but on account of his arbitrary methods of government he was so greatly disliked that he decided it was “healthier” to live elsewhere.