At two hundred and sixteen miles below the cascade he passed the mouth of the river Tambo, the confluence of which with the Urubamba makes the Ucayali.
Two hundred and fifty-two miles below the mouth of the Tambo he passed the mouth of the Pachitea, which he describes as being about the size of the Seine at Paris; and the Ucayali, after the junction of this river, as like the Thames at London.
Sarayacu is two hundred and ninety-seven miles below the mouth of the Pachitea.
From the Vuelta del Diablo to Sarayacu is four hundred and ninety-five miles. From Sarayacu to the mouth of the Ucayali is two hundred and seventy five miles; so that we have an undoubtedly open navigation on this river of seven hundred and seventy miles; and, taking M. Castelnau's opinion as correct, there are two hundred and seventy miles more to the foot of the last cascade on the Urubamba; making a total of one thousand and forty miles. Well, then, may he call this stream the main trunk of the Amazon; for, taking my estimate of the distance from the mouth of this river to the ocean, at two thousand three hundred and twenty miles, we have an uninterrupted navigation of three thousand three hundred and sixty miles, which will be found in no other direction. I estimate the distance from the Pongo de Chasuta, the head of clear navigation on the Huallaga, to the sea, at two thousand eight hundred and fifteen miles.
An idea may be formed of the difficulties and dangers of passing the rapids of these rivers from the following description, given by this accomplished gentleman and clever writer:
"We started about 8 o'clock, and employed an hour and a half in passing the cascade, which was composed of two strong rapids. Immediately after this, two other rapids arrested our course. We passed the first by the left bank; but, as it was impossible to continue our route on that side, after consultation, we embarked to cross to the right bank.
"We found the current of exceeding rapidity; and the second cataract roared and foamed only one hundred metres below us. The Indians at every instant cast anxious glances over the distance that separated them from the danger. At one moment our frail canoe manifestly lost ground; but the Indians redoubled their efforts, and we shot out of the strength of the current.
"At this moment we heard cries behind us, and an Indian pointed with his finger to the canoe of M. Carrasco, within a few yards of us. It was struggling desperately with the violence of the current; at one instant we thought it safe, but at the next we saw that all hope was lost, and that it was hurried towards the gulf with the rapidity of an arrow. The Peruvians and the Indians threw themselves into the water; the old priest alone remained in the canoe, and we could distinctly hear him reciting the prayer for the dying until his voice was lost in the roar of the cataract. We were chilled with horror; and we hastened to the bank, where we met our companions successively struggling to the shore from the lost canoe. M. Bizerra, particularly, encountered great danger, but he evinced a remarkable sang-froid, and, amidst his difficulties, never let go the journal of the expedition, which he carried in his teeth.
"Poor little Panchito, the servant of the priest, wept bitterly, and begged us to let him seek the body of his benefactor; but an hour was already lost, and our absolute want of provisions forbid us from acceding to his sad demand.
"We deeply regretted the loss of our companion, whose death was as saint-like as his life."