On the Banks of the Amazon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We now anxiously awaited the return of our friend. An hour passed by, when we saw among the trees a large number of natives approaching the fort, some armed with muskets, but the greater number with bows and arrows.

“We shall have no difficulty in beating back that rabble!” exclaimed Tony. “We must first pick off the fellows with firearms, and the others will soon take to flight.”

I did not feel so confident as my friend. The enemy from their numbers alone were formidable, and if well led, might, I feared, easily overpower us. Their numbers increased, and they seemed on the point of making a dash at the fort, when a loud shout was raised behind them. They turned round, looking eagerly in the direction from whence it came. Presently three persons came out from among them. One I recognised as the recluse; but the other two I looked at again and again, and at length was convinced that one was Don José, and the other his attendant Isoro. Don José, turning to the natives, addressed them in the Lingua Geral, which they all probably understood. They were sufficiently near for us to hear what was said.

“My friends,” he exclaimed, “what is it you require? Do you seek the blood of these white people? What will that benefit you? Listen to Pumacagua—a Peruvian cacique—who regards with affection the whole Indian race; who would wish to see them united as one tribe, prosperous and happy, enjoying all the benefits of our magnificent country. If you destroy these people, you will but bring down the vengeance of the powerful whites on your heads. Some among them are my friends. They have never harmed you. They wish you well, I know, and are even now sufferers for the cause of liberty. Be advised by me. Return to your homes, and seek not by force to obtain your rights. It will, I know too well by bitter experience, be in vain. Trust to me and my English friends, who will not rest till we have gained for you the justice you demand.”

We saw the leaders among the Indians consulting together. The recluse now went among them, and addressed them earnestly. His and Don José’s words seemed to have a powerful effect. Greatly to our relief, they began to retire through the forest. Our friends accompanied them to their canoes, while Arthur and I followed at a distance to watch what would next take place. The canoes were launched, and the natives, bidding an affectionate farewell to the recluse, and a respectful one to Pumacagua, leaped into them, and took their departure to the opposite bank of the river. We hurried on to meet our friends, and soon afterwards my father came out of the fort to welcome Don José. They greeted each other warmly.

“Finding that I could no longer render service to my countrymen, and that my own life was in constant danger,” Don José said, “I was on my way down the river to join you, when I saw a large number of canoes drawn up on the beach, a few people only remaining with them. From them I learned what was taking place, and I at once suspected, from what they told me, who it was they were about to attack. I instantly landed, and overtook the main body of insurgents. The rest you know.”

Our friends then returned to the fort, and all hands at once set to work to complete our vessel. Tony alone was somewhat disappointed at so pacific a termination to the affair. The additional hands whom Don José had brought with him were of great assistance, as they were all expert boat-builders; and in less than a couple of days our craft was launched, and ready to proceed on her voyage. Don José and our father had, of course, much to talk about. The former seemed greatly out of spirits at the turn affairs had taken, and in despair of the establishment of true liberty in his country. His affection for my father had induced him to follow us, and he purposed to remain with him at Para till a change of affairs in Peru might enable him to return.

The rainy season was now completely over; though the heat was very great, the weather was fine. At length our new vessel, which we called the Manatee, with the canoes of Don José and Houlston in company, emerging from the igarape, made sail to the eastward.

I have not space to describe the voyage. Sometimes we navigated a wide expanse of water, where the river’s banks were several miles apart; sometimes we passed amid an archipelago, through narrow channels where the branches of the giant trees almost joined overhead. Sometimes we sailed on with a favourable breeze, and at other times had to lower our sails and take to the oars. For some hundred miles we had the green forest alone in sight on either side, and here and there long extending sand-banks, in which turtles are wont to lay their eggs. As we passed near the shore, vast numbers of wild fowl were seen on the banks, while the river swarmed with living creatures. Dolphins came swimming by, showing their heads above the surface, again to plunge down as they advanced up the stream. Now and then we caught sight of a huge manatee, and we saw alligators everywhere basking on the shores or showing their ugly snouts above the surface. At length a high, flat-topped range of hills appeared on our left hand—the spurs, I believe, of the mountains of Guiana. The river was now for some distance fully ten miles in width; so wide, indeed, that it looked more like an inland sea or the ocean itself than a fresh-water stream. At length we entered one end of the Tajapurú, which is a curious natural canal, extending for one hundred miles or more from the main stream towards the city of Para. It is of great depth in some places, and one hundred yards in width; but in others so narrow that the topmost boughs of the trees almost met over our heads. Often as we sailed along we were hemmed in by two green walls, eighty feet in height, which made it seem as if we were sailing through a deep gorge. Emerging from it, we entered the Para river, and sailing on, were soon in a magnificent sea-like expanse, the only shore visible being that of the island of Marajo, presenting a narrow blue line far away on our left. We passed a number of curious boats and rafts of various shapes and rigs, bringing produce from the villages and farms scattered along the banks of the many vast rivers which pour their waters into the Atlantic. Still, all this time, we were navigating merely one of the branches of the mighty Amazon; for, though we had long felt the influence of the tide, yet the water, even when it was flowing, was but slightly brackish.

At length, entering the sheltered bay of Goajara, we, with thankful hearts, saw the city of Para stretching out before us along the shore, and our vessel was soon moored in safety alongside the quay. Houlston and Tony hurried off to their friends, who came down to welcome us and take us to their house. In most places we should have attracted no small amount of curiosity as we proceeded through the streets. Each of the ladies, as well as Maria and the Indian girl, with two or more parrots and other birds on their shoulders; Nimble sitting on mine with his tail round my neck; Arthur carrying Toby; while Tony and Houlston had a couple of monkeys apiece, which they had obtained on their voyage. Such a spectacle, however, was too common in Para to attract much attention.