Hearing that General Bolivar had already left the place with his forces, and was marching towards the plains of Apure, my friends and I determined to follow him. Finding that we could perform two or three hundred miles or so of the distance by water, we engaged a canoe to take us up.
When bidding farewell to my friend Captain Longswill, he put a purse into my hand; observing,—“You are in want of funds, and you or your uncle can repay me some day if you have the opportunity. If not, you are welcome to the money; I have made a successful voyage, and can spare it.”
I thanked him much for his generosity, for I was unwilling to be indebted either to the doctor or the padre,—who would, however, I am sure, have been ready to help me. I was thus able to purchase a rifle and other weapons. The doctor had preserved his; and the padre supplied himself with arms at the same time.
We set off towards the middle of the day, and had thus made some progress before sunset. Our life was very similar to that which we led when coming up the Magdalena. We landed at night on the shore, where we built some huts for shelter, lighted a fire, cooked our provisions, and then lay down to rest.
I was on foot before my companions the next morning; and rambling, gun in hand, along the bank of a small stream which ran into the main river, was much struck with the calm beauty of the scene, so different from anything I had witnessed for many months. The vegetation was rich in the extreme,—creepers with gay colours hanging from all the branches, with graceful reed-like plants springing up at the water’s edge, while on the surface floated large green leaves,—on which I saw a long-footed jacana standing while engaged in fishing for her breakfast. The idea came across my mind, How much happier it would be to live amid scenes like this, instead of having to go back to the wild turmoil of the camp or engage in the heady fight; but while my country remained enslaved, it was my duty to risk life and limb, and to sacrifice everything else, to set her free,—so I quickly banished the thought, and hastened back to my friends.
Having breakfasted, we proceeded on our voyage. Our canoe was a curious craft: she was formed of a single vast trunk (hollowed out by fire and the axe), forty feet in length, and scarcely more than three in beam, with upper works added to her; and on the after part was a platform projecting over the sides, on which was erected a small low cabin or toldo. The deck, if I may so term it, was covered with jaguar-skins, on which we could stretch ourselves when we wished to escape from the heat of the sun. A dozen Indian rowers sat, two and two, in the fore part, with paddles three feet long in the form of spoons; and they kept very regular stroke by singing songs, which were of a somewhat sad and monotonous character.
Our craft was so crank that one of us could not
venture to lean over on one side unless we gave notice to balance the boat by inclining on the other. Still we made very good progress, considering the current that was against us.
During the excessive heat of the day, we landed to allow the crew to take some rest. The doctor on these occasions bade me remark the silence which reigned over nature. The beasts of the forest had retired to the thickets; the birds had hidden themselves beneath the foliage of the trees. Yet when we ceased speaking our ears caught a dull vibration, a continual murmur,—the hum of insects filling all the lower strata of the air, while a confused noise issued from every bush, from the decayed trunks of the trees, from the clefts of the rocks, and from the ground undermined by lizards, crickets, millipedes, and other creatures. Myriads of insects were creeping upon the soil and fluttering round the plants parched by the heat of the sun,—showing us by their countless voices that all nature was breathing, and that under a thousand different forms life was diffused throughout the cracked and dusty soil, as well as in the bosom of the waters and in the air circulating round us.