On the Banks of the Amazon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“That is not according to the Christian law,” observed Arthur mildly. “I would run any risk, though, to obtain their release, should they have been made prisoners.”

“I feel sure that they have not,” I answered. “Had they not escaped in their canoe we should certainly have found some remains of her on the shore, or some traces of them. Oh no; I feel sure they got off, and we shall overtake them before long.”

As I ceased speaking, a band of Indians appeared coming through the woods. They were—like the first two, who were evidently chiefs—decked in feathers and paint, but otherwise unencumbered by clothing. They were armed with bows and spears, but not a musket did we see among them. They were certainly the lightest of light troops. The two chiefs seemed to look upon their weapons as of immense value, as a general does his heavy guns. I saw the chief eyeing my rifle; and he then addressed us, inviting us to accompany the expedition. In spite of what I had just said, I felt greatly inclined to go, Arthur, however, urged me strongly not to do so.

“Think of your sister and brother. How anxious our absence would make them!” he observed. “You do not know what dangers they may be exposed to; and suppose we were surprised and killed by the enemy, what would become of them?”

I agreed that he was right, and explained to the chief that we could not leave our friends. He then asked me to make over my gun to him; but, of course, I could not deprive myself of our chief means of defence, and therefore turned a deaf ear to his request. The troops had halted at the foot of the hill; and we accompanied the two chiefs, who went down to meet them. The natives looked at us without much surprise, as if white men were no strangers to them. Arthur now advised that we should return, as it would be a serious matter should we be benighted in the forest. Before parting from our friends, we endeavoured to ascertain whether they had seen our canoe, but we could obtain no information from them. Still I could not help thinking that she had been carried off by some of their tribe, who might have found her on their way up the igarape. When, therefore, the chief again pressed us to pay a visit to his village, we accepted his invitation.

Several lads had accompanied the army. As they only carried blow-pipes in their hands, I suspected—as proved to be the case—that they were not to proceed further. The chief called one of them up to him; and from the way he spoke, I had little doubt that he was his son. The chief made signs to us that the lad, whom he called Duppo, would go back with us to the village, and that we should there obtain any food we might require. Duppo appeared to be about fourteen years of age, and more intelligent and better looking than most of the Indians; indeed, the two chiefs we had first seen were superior to the rest in appearance, and Duppo was very like them. We came to the conclusion that they were brothers; and that Duppo, as I have said, was the son of the eldest. This we found afterwards to be the case.

The chief, having wished us farewell, gave the signal to advance; and leading the way, the Indians set off in single file along the bottom of the hill. We, having watched them for some time, accompanied Duppo, followed by the three other lads who had come with him. We asked him his father’s name, and understood him to say it was Maono, that his mother’s name was Mora, and that his uncle was called Paco. Had we judged by Duppo’s manner, we should not have supposed that his friends had gone on a dangerous expedition; but yet, knowing the character of the Majeronas, we could not help feeling some anxiety for the result. We found that Duppo was leading us towards the further end of the igarape, in the direction we had ourselves before proposed going. We had, however, delayed so long, that I feared we should not have time to return. Arthur suggested that we might possibly find a canoe, in which we could go back by water, or, if not, we might build a balsa, such as we had seen used on the Guayas.

“An excellent idea,” I replied. “We will put it into execution should we not find a canoe.”

Our young guide led the way with unerring instinct through the forest. We had gone some distance, when we heard a deep, loud, and long-sustained flute-like note. It was that of a bird. The young Indian stopped, and pointing ahead, uttered the word nira-mimbeu, which I afterwards ascertained meant fife-bird, evidently from the peculiar note we had just heard. The whole party stopped in the attitude of listening, and looking among the branches, we got a good view of a bird a short distance beyond us, with glossy black plumage, perched on a bough. The bird itself was about the size of a common crow. It had a remarkable ornament on its head, consisting of a crest formed of long, curved, hairy feathers at the end of bare quills which were now raised and spread out in the shape of a fringed sunshade. Round its neck was a tippet formed of glossy steel-blue feathers; and as we watched it, while it was singing it spread these out, and waved them in a curious manner, extending at the same time its umbrella-formed crest, while it bowed its head slightly forward and then raised it again. I knew at once the curious creature to be the rare umbrella-bird (Cephalopterus ornatus). The bird was continuing its flute-like performance, when Duppo, advancing slowly and lifting his blow-pipe, sent forth with unerring aim a tiny dart, which pierced the bird’s neck. Much to my sorrow, the note ceased; but yet the bird stood on its perch as if scarcely aware of the wound it had received. We all stood watching it. For nearly a minute it remained as before, till gradually its head began to drop, and finally it fell to the ground. Duppo ran forward, and taking a pinch of white substance from a wallet which he carried at his side, placed it in the bird’s mouth, and then carefully pulling out the arrow, put some into the wound, just as our Napo Indians had done when they shot our monkey, Nimble. We then went on, he carrying the apparently lifeless bird carefully in his arms. In a few minutes it began slowly to lift its head, and then to look about it as a hen does when carried in the same way. In a short time the bird seemed to be as well as if it had not received a wound, and began to peck at the bare arms of our young guide. On this he took from his bag some small pieces of fibre. On piece he wound round its bill, and another round its legs, taking great care not to hurt or injure it in any way.

We went on for some distance, our young guide keeping his sharp eyes roving round in every direction in search of some other bird or animal on which he might exercise his skill. We were naturally surprised at the wonderful way in which the bird he had shot had recovered. I could scarcely believe that the arrow had been tipped with poison, and yet I could not otherwise account for the manner in which the bird fell to the ground. I inquired of Duppo, but could not understand his reply. At last he took out of his bag some of the white stuff we had seen him apply and put it on his tongue. “Why,” exclaimed Arthur, to whom he had given some to taste, “it is salt!”