On the Banks of the Amazon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

I told John, who agreed with me; and we at once determined to proceed up the stream with our Tucuna Indians. We promised them that on finding our friends they should have our canoe in which to perform their homeward voyage. They seemed perfectly satisfied, and we congratulated ourselves on the arrangement we had made. As there might not be room to return in their canoe, John, Arthur, and I determined to go alone. We would not even take Duppo, as he could do little, compared with the other Indians, in working our vessel. Fanny and Ellen were very unhappy at the thoughts of our going. We begged them to look after Duppo, and to give him his lessons in English till we should return.

We started early in the morning, paddling vigorously up the stream, which we found a very different thing to going down with it. At first we kept along the shore, opposite Senhor Pimento’s sitio, and then crossed over, that we might have a better chance of seeing our friends, should they be coming down. For some time, when the wind was fair, we rigged a sail, and were thus able to run up with ease against the current. At night we always chose a spot where we could command a view of the river, which had so much fallen by this time that we hoped our friends would keep in it instead of branching off among the channels at the side.

For several days we continued our voyage, till we began to fear that some accident might have happened, or that, not hearing of us, they might have pushed onwards, with the intention of sailing up the Napo. Sometimes we slept under the awning in the montaria; sometimes we built huts, according to our usual custom, on the shore.

One morning, just as we were embarking, John shot a fine paca, which we took on board, and agreed we would roast during our noon-day meal, when our Indians generally lay down to sleep. At the hour we intended, we found a bank, which afforded us a tempting resting-place. Arthur and I agreed to act as cooks; while John, who had been up before daybreak with his gun in the forest, said he would rest till dinner was ready. The chief Indian, Tono, meantime took his blow-pipe and bow, saying he would go into the forest and shoot some more game for supper, our stock having become somewhat scanty; while his companions lay down to sleep in the canoe. John lay down on the grass, away from the fire, though near enough for the smoke to keep the flies at a distance. We had the paca scientifically trussed and spitted, and placed over the fire on two forked sticks. Sometime! Arthur, sometimes I turned the spit. It was my turn to attend to it, and Arthur was sitting near me, when I felt the ground shake, as if some large object had pitched down on it at my side; and what was my horror, on turning my head, to see Arthur, in the claws of an enormous puma, being dragged over the ground. We had imprudently left our guns in the montaria. At the same time John awoke, and quickly sprang into the canoe. I felt for my knife—the only weapon I possessed—when I found that I had left it on the other side of the fire, where John had been lying. As I turned my head for an instant, intending to seize it, I saw another puma stealthily approaching. Arthur did not cry out, but lay with his face on the ground, the better to avoid the stroke of the puma’s paw. Horror kept me from moving. The savage beast was dragging Arthur away. Despair seized me. His death seemed inevitable. All passed in a moment. Then I saw John standing up in the montaria, with his rifle pointed at the puma’s head. My tongue clove to my mouth. I could not shout out to awake the Indians. The second puma was drawing near. I might be its victim. Just then John’s rifle echoed through the forest: the puma which had seized Arthur sprang up in the air, and then down it fell, its claws only a few inches from Arthur’s body. I now rushed up to him, and dragged him out of the way of its dying struggles, calling to John to look after the other puma. The Indians had now started to their feet, uttering loud shrieks. The puma stopped just as I fancied it was about to spring at me, and turning round, bounded into the forest. They then, running up to where the puma lay, quickly despatched it with their spears; while John and I lifted up Arthur and carried him to the side of the fire. He was insensible, but groaned heavily. His arm and shoulder were fearfully torn, while his head had received a blow, though comparatively a slight one, or it would inevitably have killed him.

“O John, do you think he will recover?” I exclaimed, as we examined his hurts.

“If we knew how to treat him, he might,” answered John; “but I am a very bad doctor, and I am afraid our Indians are not better ones.”

“Then, John, we must go back to the island,” I exclaimed; “it would be impossible to continue our voyage with Arthur in this state; and though we have been many days coming up, we may hope to get back again in two or three.”

John agreed with me, and we explained our intentions to the Indian boatmen. They looked very dissatisfied, especially Tono, who just then returned from his shooting excursion. I had not from the first liked his countenance, and I saw by his gestures that he was endeavouring to incite his companions to disregard our orders.

Though on their side they mustered four stout, athletic fellows, yet John and I had our rifles, and we agreed, for Arthur’s sake, to make them do as we thought best. John at once reloaded his rifle; and as soon as he had done so, he told me to hurry down to the boat and seize mine. I got hold of it before the Indians were aware of my intention, and quickly rejoined him. Our first care was to wash and dress Arthur’s wounds as well as we could. John covered me with his rifle, while I went down to get the water.

“Now, Harry,” he said, “as we do not know when we shall be able to dress another paca, we had better make a good dinner off the portion which has escaped burning during the time you were unable to turn the spit.”