Down the Orinoco in a Canoe

by Santiago Pérez Triana

We soon discovered, to our amazement, that our new position was far from being a sinecure.

One day we were waiting for the noon-day heat to pass, having halted on a poyata, the name given to small beaches that seem to stretch like a tongue of sand from under the very roots of the forest into the river; we had fled for shelter to the coolness of the high vaulting trees, from whose trunks the hammocks swung invitingly. The blue heaven appeared like an enamelled background beyond the lace-work of the intertwined leaves and branches. The fires burned brightly and cheerily, their flames pale and discoloured in the bright glare of the sun; the pots simmered, and soon tempting whiffs were wafted by the lazy breeze that hardly stirred, welcome heralds of good things to come. The stomach reigns supreme just before and after a meal, which, if it be assured to a hungry mortal, constitutes for him the most satisfactory event in the immediate future, calming his anxieties or blunting the edge of care; and after it has been eaten, the process of digestion, which for the moment monopolizes the principal energies of the organism, seems to cast a veil over the unpleasant aspects of life, and to soften the thorns that beset our path.

Some General of the Confederate Army in the United States, who had retired to his lands after the final collapse of the South, used to remark that one of the saddest things for an old man who had been very active in former years was to receive the frequent news of the death of former comrades and companions. ‘Whenever such news reaches me,’ he went on to say, ‘I always order two pigeons for my dinner; they are so soothing!’

In the midst of our pleasant expectations we found ourselves suddenly invaded by a swarm of Indians, male and female of all ages, who came either from the forest or in canoes. They pounced on us so swiftly that we were practically swamped by them in an instant. They at once began to beg for presents, to touch and smell any of the articles belonging to us that they could, and they certainly would have taken everything had it been possible.

The men were all in the primitive attire of the proud Indian whom we had been unable to press into our service a few days before. The women wore tunics made either from coarse cotton stuffs obtained from the traders, or from a sort of bark, pliant and fairly soft, called marimba. Some of the women were accompanied by two or three children.

With the tribe—for it was a whole tribe that had fallen upon us—came a man dressed in trousers—the regulation article such as you may see in any civilized capital—and a woollen shirt of a deep red hue. He was the chief of the tribe, and had donned that garb in our honour.

The captain told Leal that the various mothers who had brought their children were anxious to have them baptized. Leal replied that the matter would be attended to on our return trip, arguing furthermore that the three reverend missionaries should not be disturbed as they lay in their hammocks, for though, had they been ordinary men, they might be thought to be asleep, yet being persons of eminent piety it was more probable that they were entranced in meditation. Leal backed his plea with a gift, a most wonderful argument which carries conviction to wild Indians almost as quickly as to civilized men. The chief did not insist, and for the moment we were left to our pseudo-religious and silent contemplations.

Shortly after, however, an Indian mother, with one child in her arms and two in her wake, proved obdurate and relentless. Her thirst for the baptismal waters—at least, on behalf of her children if not of herself—must be slaked at all costs. All Leal’s efforts proving fruitless, he ended by telling her that I was the chief missionary. Once recognised as a pillar of the Church, I was prepared for any sacrifice of self, so that on the Indian woman approaching me I got ready to perform whatever ceremony she might want to the best of my ability. She was not only prudent and cautious, but distrustful. She pulled my hat off, and ran her fingers swiftly through my hair. On seeing that I had no tonsure—her mimic was as clear as speech—she flung my hat violently on the ground, gesticulated and shouted, attracting the attention of all her companions.

Here was a complication for which we had not bargained. If there were great advantages in our being taken for missionaries, there was also great danger in being exposed as sham missionaries. Something must be done to remedy the evil. Leal at once bethought himself of an expedient; he took the Indian woman towards the hammock where Alex slept in sweet oblivion, unconscious of what was going on around him. She at once dragged off his hat, and on finding a head brilliantly bald almost fell prostrate. Hierarchy, or what in her savage mind stood for it, evidently grew higher with the size of the tonsure, and here the tonsure was immense. Had she known the various dignities into which the Catholic priesthood is divided, she might have taken Alex for the Pope. Be that as it may, she was satisfied. Alex, on being informed, swallowed the pill gracefully, and prepared to do his duty.

The woman brought forward her smallest child. Here again new difficulties ensued. We held a council of consultation as to the modus operandi. Opinions differed widely, and were supported vehemently, as is sure to be the case when all those discussing a given subject happen to be equally ignorant. Finally some sort of plan was adopted, and the child was baptized in accordance with a rite evolved from our own dim recollections, with such modifications as seemed most fit.