Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon, Part 1 (of 2)

by William Lewis Herndon; Lardner Gibbon

The party suffered grievously from the hardships of the voyage and the want of food. They were at the point of starvation when they arrived at Sarayacu, forty-four days after their embarkation at Echaraté. M. Castelnau's description of their condition when they arrived is quite touching.

"At 3 p. m., after a journey of thirty miles, the Indians all at once turned the canoe to a deserted beach, and told us that we were arrived at Sarayacu. Before us was the bed of a little river nearly dry, to which they gave this name. The absence of any indication of habitations, and the dark forest which surrounded the beach, made us believe for the instant that we were the victims of some terrible mistake. We thought that the mission so ardently desired had been abandoned. Among our people only one knew the place, and his canoe had not yet arrived. We set ourselves to search out a path through the forest, but without success; we were completely discouraged, and our eyes filled with tears." (The gallant Frenchman must have suffered much to have been brought to such a condition as this.) "We were in this state of anxiety more than an hour; at last our guide arrived; he told us that the town was some distance from the river, and, after considerable search, he found in a ravine the entrance to the narrow path which led to it. M. Deville and I were so enfeebled, and our legs so swollen, that we could not travel it. M. Carrasco, anxious to arrive, started in company with his friends; and Florentino (the servant of the count) accompanied them. We were thus sadly detained upon the beach, when, towards nine o'clock, we thought we heard singing in the woods; the voices soon became distinct, and we could recognise the airs. An instant after, the good Florentino rushed to us in the height of joy. He was followed by a dozen Indians of the Mission carrying torches, and a man dressed in European costume. This last gave us an affectionate shake of the hand, and told us, in English, that his name was Hackett; that the prefect of the Missions, the celebrated Padre Plaza, had sent him to welcome us and to beg us to excuse him, in that his great age had not permitted him to come himself. The Indians brought us fowls, eggs, and a bottle of wine; supper was instantly prepared; and Mr. Hackett, who seemed sensibly touched with our misery, staid with us till midnight. He told us that the Mission was nearly six miles in the interior, but that he would send us Indians early in the morning to conduct us to it. We learned that the Peruvian government, faithful to its engagements, had announced our voyage in the Missions, and that the Bishop of Mainas had sent an express messenger to that effect; but Padre Plaza, regarding our voyage from Cuzco to the Missions as an absolute impossibility, had supposed that we were dead, and had celebrated masses for the weal of our souls."

I could get any number of men for the voyage down, and on October 28th, at 10 a. m., we left Sarayacu and dropped down to the mouth of the caño, where we stopped to re-stow and shake things together. We found the Ucayali a very different-looking stream from what it was when we left it; it was much higher, with a stronger current, and covered with floating trees. At 3 p. m. we took leave of good Father Calvo with much regret, and started in company with Father Bregati, (who was returning to his cure of Catalina,) and with a large canoe that we were carrying down for the return of our peons from Pebas.

I was much pleased with our new men, particularly with our pilot, old Andres Urquia, a long, hard-weather, Tom-Coffin-looking fellow, whom travel and exposure for many years seemed to have hardened into a being insensible to fatigue, and impervious to disease. He has navigated the rivers of the country a great deal; was with Father Cimini when driven back by the Campas; and says that he has passed, in company with a Portuguese, named Da'Costa, from the Yavari to the Ucayali in two weeks, by a small inosculating stream called Yana Yacu, and returned in four by the ravine of Maquia. He says that there is another natural canal called Yawarangi, which connects the two rivers. These canals are all very narrow, and are passed by pushing the canoe with poles; though Andres says there is plenty of water, but not room enough for such a boat as mine.

We passed the distance from Sarayacu to Nauta in eight days, which had cost us twenty-three in the ascent. The distance from Sarayacu to the mouth by the channel is two hundred and seventy miles—in a straight line one hundred and fifty. We travelled all one night when near the mouth; but this is dangerous on the Ucayali and Huallaga. The channels on these rivers are frequently obstructed by grounded trees, striking one of which the boat would almost inevitably perish. It is safer on the broader Amazon.

The Ucayali, as far as Sarayacu, averages half a mile of width, twenty feet of depth at its lowest stage, and three miles the hour of current. I fear that there is a place at the great bend of the river, just below Sarayacu, where there are islands with extensive sand-flats, that may form, at the lowest stage of the river, an obstruction to navigation for a vessel of greater draught than ten feet. At this place, going up, we were paddling close in to the left bank, with apparently deep water, when, seeing a beach on what I thought was the opposite side of the river, probably two hundred and fifty yards distant, I directed the pilot to go over and camp for the night. To my surprise, almost immediately from the moment of his turning the boat's head outward to cross over, the men dropped their paddles, and, taking to their poles, shoved the boat over in not more than four or five feet water. I observed, when we had crossed, that we were on the beach of an island, and asked the pilot if there was more water in the other channel, on the right bank. He said, yes; that, when the river was very low, this side was dry, but the other never.

It is difficult, on account of the roving habits of the people who live upon the Ucayali, to make any estimate concerning the increase and decrease of the population. I scarcely find a village that Smyth names when he passed in 1835, and find several which he does not mention. Tipishka Nueva, which he says was the largest settlement on the river next to Sarayacu, and had a population of two hundred, has now entirely disappeared; and Sta. Maria, of which he makes no mention, has probably been settled since he was here, and has at present one hundred and fifty souls. I thought it singular (but of course a casualty) that, in summing up my estimates of the number of the people on the river, between its mouth and Sarayacu, I find it to amount to six hundred and thirty-four, and that Smyth's estimate makes it six hundred and forty. As it regards the length and direction of the reaches of the river, I find that officer remarkably correct. He descended about the 1st of March, and of course had the river wider and deeper, and the current stronger than I found it; for this reason our accounts differ somewhat.

The difference between high and low-water mark is about thirty-five feet. I planted a pole at a settlement called Guanache as I went up, on the 9th of October; when I passed it going down, on the 1st of November, I found the river had risen nine feet seven inches. It did not, however, commence its regular and steady rise till the 15th of October. A mile inside of the mouth, in the middle of the river, I found seventy-two feet of depth, and two and three-quarter miles current per hour. The bottom of the river is full of sunken trees. I lost two sounding-leads and three axe-heads in the descent. My sounding-line, however, had become very rotten from the dampness of the atmosphere, and did not even stand the strain of the current upon the log-chip, which I also lost.

I had intended to stay at Nauta some days, for I found that so much canoe life was beginning to affect my health, and that I was getting weaker day by day; but Nauta seemed a different place than when I left it. Arebalo, the priest, and Antonio the Paraguá, were gone, and Senhor Cauper seemed out of humor, and not glad to see us. I expect the old gentleman was troubled in his mind about his fish. He had three thousand pieces on a beach of the Ucayali, with the river rising fast and threatening its safety; while his boats had just got off to fetch them away, and were travelling very slowly up.

I wished to get a few more peons; but there were no authorities, and the Indians were engaged in drinking and dancing. Two of my men, whom I had picked up at a settlement called Santos Guagua, on the Ucayali, deserted, though paid as far as Pebas. I feared to lose more; and, collecting the few birds and animals I had left here, I started at half-past 5 p. m. on the 5th of November, having slept in my boat on the night of the 4th for the want of a house, and been nearly devoured by the musquitoes.