Father Valdivia entertained us most kindly. His aguadiente gave out; and he occasionally regaled us with a glass of wine, bought for the church in Loreto. It is a weak white wine. I suppose I could not drink it at home, but here it seems very good. I find that this is the case with a great many things. The green plantains, roasted, which were at first an abomination to me, have now become a very good substitute for bread; and a roasted yucca is quite a treat. We have some small red-headed pan fish that are very fine; and, at my suggestion, the padre had two or three fried, added to his usual evening cup of chocolate. I look forward to this meal with considerable pleasure. I do not know if it arises from the fact of our seeing so few things that are good to eat, or from the freshness of the cocoa, but chocolate, which I could not touch before this, is now very palatable and refreshing. The bean is simply toasted and pulverized, and the chocolate is made nearly as we make coffee.
After supper, we—that is, the padre, the governor general, Ijurra, and I, provided with fans to keep off the musquitoes—light our cigars, stretch ourselves at full length in a hammock, and pass an hour before bed-time in agreeable conversation. The priest, in this country, has more power, though it is by force of opinion, than the governor of the districts, or even than the governor general. I saw an instance in Nauta, where a man withstood Arebalo to his face, but yielded without a struggle, though growlingly, to the mandate of the padre. In fact, Father Valdivia, though half Indian, and exceedingly simple-minded, is a very resolute and energetic person. On one occasion the governor of Pebas succeeded in carrying off the Indians of that village to the Napo to gather sarza, against the wish of the padre, who wanted them to clear the forest and build the new town. When the governor returned, the priest told him that they two could not live together; that one or the other must resign his office and go away; and the man, knowing the power and influence of the priest, retired from the contest and his post. The padre had great opposition and trouble in forming his new settlement. Even the women (wives of the white men) of Pebas came over to laugh at and ridicule his work; but the good father called his Varayos, had the ladies conducted to their canoes, and, with much ceremonious politeness, directed them to be shoved off.
We obtained from the Indians more of the poisonous milk of the catao, and also the milk of the cow-tree. This they drink when fresh; and, when brought to me in a calabash, it had a foamy appearance, as if just drawn from the cow; and looked very rich and tempting. It, however, coagulates very soon, and becomes as hard and tenacious as glue. The Indians make use of this property of it to eradicate their eyebrows. This is not so painful an operation as it would seem; for the Indians have never suffered the eyebrows to grow and become strong, and the hair is only down, which is easily plucked up. When the milk coagulates, it expands, so that it forced the glass stopper out of the bottle I put it in, though sealed with pitch. We also got some of the almonds of the country, which I have not seen elsewhere. They are about the size, and have something the appearance, of our common black walnut, with a single oblong kernel, similar in taste to the Brazil nut.
November 26.—We had much heavy rain for the last day or two. A number of persons were affected with catarrh and headache. The padre told me that half of the population were ill of it, and that this always happens at the commencement of the rains. The disease is called romadizo, and is like our influenza. Ijurra and I were both indisposed with rheumatic pains in the back of the neck and shoulders. I don't wonder at this, for we have slept all the time in a room just plastered with mud, and so damp that, where my bed-clothes came in contact with the wall, they were quite wet; and the rain beat in upon my head and shoulders, through an open window nearly over head. My boots are covered with mould every morning, and the guns get half-full of water.
I gave the padre's servant, who was suffering very much from romadizo, fifteen grains of Dover's powder, (Heaven knows if it were proper or not,) and also to the padre's sister, who had been suffering for some days with painful diarrhœa, forty drops of laudanum. The old lady was cured at once, and said she had never met with so great a remedio. I left her a phial of it, with directions for its use; telling her (at which she looked aghast) that it was a deadly poison. It is curious to see how entirely ignorant the best-informed people out here are concerning the properties of medicines. Most of them do not know the names, much less the effects, of even such common drugs as calomel and opium. I suspect this is the case among most Spanish people, and think that Spanish physicians have always made a great mystery of their science.
We sailed from Echenique at half-past 1 p.m. Father Valdivia, who is musical, but chanted the mass in a falsetto that would be very, difficult to distinguish, at a little distance, from the rattling of a tin pan, commissioned me to bring him out (should I ever return) a small piano and a French horn, which he would pay for in salt fish and sarsaparilla. I cannot refrain from expressing my grateful thanks, for much attention and much information, to my friends—the well-informed and gentleman-like Arebalo, and the pious, simple-minded, single-hearted little Indian priest of Pebas. We arrived at Cochiquinas (twenty-five miles distant) at half-past 8 p. m.
CHAPTER XII.
Cochiquinas—Caballo Cocha—Alligators—Indian Incantations—Loreto—Tabatinga—River Yavari—San Paulo—River Iça—Tunantins—Making manteiga—River Jutay—Fonteboa—River Juruá—River Japurá.
Cochiquinas, or New Cochiquinas, is a miserable fishing village of two hundred and forty inhabitants; though at this time there did not appear to be forty in the village, most of them being absent fishing and seeking a livelihood. Old Cochiquinas is four miles further down the river, and seems a far better situation; but the people there were afraid of the attacks of the savages of the Yavari, and removed up to this place.
The old town, to which place we dropped down to breakfast, has one hundred and twenty inhabitants, of which twenty-five are white, and the rest Indians of the Yavari, called Marubos. These are dressed with even more simplicity than the Yaguas, dispensing with the mop behind. They have small, curly moustaches and beards; are darker than the other Indians; and do nothing but hunt for their living.