The crew of the canoe was sent for; they were fine, stout, open-countenanced, respectable looking Indians of the "Canichanas" tribe, from a town in the province of Mojos, near the Mamoré river. These polite mannered men stood before us with straw hats in hand, dressed in a bark-cloth "camisa," listening to what the governor said to our interpreter—that the President of Bolivia wished them to take particular care of us; that we wanted to go down and look at the great rivers, and stated how many yards of white cotton cloth he would give them apiece, namely, three yards, about enough to make each a shirt. They promised to do their duty and obey my orders.
Had I known at the time what I discovered afterwards, I should have made the bargain with the men myself. It appeared that the governor paid them in cotton cloth, while I paid him in silver money. The honest laboring Indian, who was supposed to be ignorant of the act, felt the injustice and saw its wrong more clearly than he was supposed to do. One day, long after our first meeting, I happened to ask the interpreter which the Indians cared the most for, silver coin or cotton cloth, thinking of course they preferred the latter, but I found they knew how to make cotton cloth with their own hands. So little do they care for it, that the governor had every one of their canoe paddles standing up in a corner of his bed room for fear they would leave without a cargo and go home with an empty boat, after landing the chocolate which a creole sent from Trinidad.
José was to leave us here. The good old man had performed his duty in the service of the United States very faithfully. He had not heard from his wife and family for the nine months he has been with us. We engaged him as a guide, but had passed beyond his knowledge of the country before we got to Cuzco; his fluency in the Quichua language made him indispensably necessary to the expedition; he made himself so useful to our small party we shall long remember his kindness. As he was nearly 60 years of age, with a large family in the Juaja valley, in Peru, we could not persuade him to go farther with us; we shall miss him very much. I gave the old man "Bill," as Richards called his mule, to return home, in addition to his pay, and an honorable discharge, in writing, from the naval service of the United States.
José had two faults, more or less natural ones—he had a standing rule to get intoxicated periodically, every six months; and, when he had time, he would also slip into a gambling house and lose his month's wages in a few moments. I have often persuaded him to let me keep back his pay, and told him he should not throw it away; when he would gently answer, "Ah, señor, there are very few perfect people in this world." We became much attached to him; Richards would often say, "if we could only persuade José to go down the rivers with us, we would be certain to get through."
I also regretted to part with my faithful mule, Rose. She had carried me nearly two thousand miles over the worst roads known to the white man, without having fallen once during the whole route. This was the third time she had descended the eastern side of the Andes into the montaña, without injury to herself or others. When she saw danger she came to a stand-still, and never would proceed until I dismounted, and then she would often refuse to go on until some other mule went before her.
The horse may be driven into danger by the rider; with the spur a horse may be made to break his neck over a rickety mountain bridge; he is man's favorite; is stabled, fed, combed, and watered, in health; when sick he has a doctor. But the jackass will not cross a dangerous place; whip him, he hangs down his head, lays back his long ears, and lets fly both heels at whoever attempts to force him. He will turn round and bite; in this he shows a higher order of intelligence than the horse. Man beats the jack; uses him all day, and at night turns him out on the road-side to feed upon thistles, and to find drink where he can.
Rose has the characteristics of both animals. In gentleness of disposition and intelligence, she takes after her sure-footed father, the jack; in activity, beauty of form, and liveliness of spirit, after her mother, the mare, of the Argentine pampas. This cross is the only animal valuable as a beast of burden in these mountainous countries. The horse would fall or be worried to death where the mule passes with ease. Their backs are short, and therefore can carry a load better than a horse. The jackass is too slow for a long journey, but like the llama will serve the purposes of the Indian, who suits himself to the gait of those animals.
The best mules are thought to be the females; they are better tempered, work easier, carry heavier loads, and keep in good order upon less food than the male mule. The females are invariably the best saddle mules.
Vinchuta is the eastern commercial emporium of Bolivia, but foreign manufactures come down from the mountains of the country instead of up the rivers from the sea. After the cotton goods, glass ware, and cutlery of Europe and North America are disembarked at Cobija, they traverse the Cordilleras over rocky roads, through the desert of Atacama, the barren plains of Oruro, over the Andes, and down those terrible roads we have just travelled. After worrying and tugging for more than eight hundred miles, all of that part of the cargo not ruined by such a journey on the backs of mules, arrives at the most important commercial port this country possesses.
There is very little trading going on here, because the outlet on the one hand is such as we describe, and the people seem to be ignorant of the advantages offered to them from the Atlantic direct, instead of the round-about way of the Pacific.