The next day, Tuesday, the 10th, at about ten o’clock, we met a party of Indians, apparently returning to Montepa from a hunting expedition. We hailed them and asked what luck they had had, but they hurried off without replying, probably half-frightened to death at seeing two genuine, full-blooded white men.
In the afternoon we saw a ronsoco, or capivara,[80] a large amphibious animal somewhat resembling a hog, standing near the water on a small flat area at the foot of a very steep clay bank. As soon as we got within range I discharged the shot-gun at him, and then we both kept up a hot fire with our revolvers, wounding him in several places, as he made desperate efforts to clamber up the steep, slippery bank. Despairing of this, he suddenly plunged into the water, and we were just on the point of giving up pursuit of him when we saw his head as he came up to breathe. We emptied our six-shooters at him again, but again he dived, coming up in about two minutes, when at our once more taking a shot at him he disappeared for good and we saw him no more. I suspect that we killed him and his body sank.
This animal feeds on grasses and weeds on the banks of the river, and is generally about the size of a hog. His scanty coat, of a greyish colour, is hard and bristly, but his flesh is used as food by the Indians, although it is not very tasteful. The lard it furnishes is, however, very much esteemed in most parts. I believe that this is the largest rodent known.
This rather exciting conflict concluded, we kept on until six o’clock, when we tied up the canoe to a nice sand playa. After dinner we again went out on a nocturnal fishing expedition, and had fair luck, catching enough for breakfast, but not such big ones as on the preceding night. At about ten o’clock we retired to the canoe.
The next morning, at about half-past four, we were awakened by a sudden jar, so severe that we rolled all over each other. Climbing out from under the pamacari as quickly as possible, we found to our horror that the canoe was adrift. It had undoubtedly become released during the night from the stake to which it had been fastened and had drifted on downstream with the current. It was only by good luck or the hand of Providence that it had not capsized already.
As soon as we realised what had happened I immediately climbed out in the bow to ward off any other stumps that we might be about to strike, while Perkins hurried back to the poop and endeavoured to get the bow foremost, for the canoe was floating broadside. Complete darkness prevented us from seeing more than two feet ahead of us, but Perkins succeeded in getting the bow pointing more or less ahead and keeping it there, while I stood up in front trying to make out the best course to avoid the stumps. After what seemed like an eternity—as we expected to capsize every moment—although really about an hour, day began to dawn and we began to breathe again. Soon a good-sized playa appeared and we stopped for breakfast, feeling rather surprised that we were alive to partake of it.
After a short rest and a long pull of aguardiente we pushed on again. Soon a gentle breeze began to blow, which was very agreeable, for the heat was scorching; it gradually increased, however, until it got to be quite a nuisance, raising waves nearly two feet high and blowing against the pamacari with such force that we were once more in danger of capsizing. Finally, the situation became so ticklish—for we did not dare to approach the bank on account of the dangers from falling trees, &c.—that, much to our regret, we were obliged to remove the pamacari, leaving nothing but the bare framework. Things went better then, and in accordance with our usual luck, the wind soon after ceased and within an hour all was calm again.
In some seasons of the year fierce tempests take place on the rivers of the Amazon basin, called turbonadas. These are generally accompanied by lightning, torrential rains, &c., and the wind, often attaining a velocity of from twenty to thirty metres per second, blows down trees and causes such large waves and whirlpools that canoes are often overturned and lost unless great care is taken.
At two o’clock we unexpectedly reached Guepí, a scattered collection of three Colombian rubber-trading establishments, about a kilometre apart from each other. We stopped for an hour or so at the first house, belonging to one Señor Muñoz; this was a large split-palm bungalow, raised about six feet above the level of the ground in order to prevent flooding during the wet season, when the river overflows its banks. It appeared to be uncompleted, for there were no walls, although the roof and the elevated floor were finished, and the latter was covered with a miscellaneous collection of bultos, heaps of yuca and plantains, pots and kettles, peons in hammocks, pieces of rubber, and other things too numerous to mention. The inhabitants seemed to be taking life easily and not worrying about a rainy day, for they all knocked off as soon as we appeared and began simultaneously to talk and to fill themselves and us with aguardiente. They seemed to be a merry, jovial lot, and when we left insisted upon presenting us with a dozen eggs and a whole lot of papayas and plantains.