But the business under these sheds in the wilderness attracts attention. We find the Aymara, Quichua, and Spanish languages mingling with the Yuracares and Canichanas; we are pleased to add the Anglo-Norman. The arriero and the canoe men meet in friendship with each and with us.
On Tuesday, 25th May, we descended the steep bank of Coni creek, stepping into a canoe made of a log forty feet long and four feet wide. The model of this canoe appeared to us a beautiful one as she sat upon the water. She was one of the largest used by the Bolivian Indians, and the contour of the vessel resembled a model frigate more than any other. Her cargo was piled up on the bank under a rustic house built by the crew of the leaves and branches of trees. The boat-keeper was washing out the canoe; she was open fore and aft.
The creek was fifty yards wide, with a swift current. As we stood in the canoe and looked up the stream, we could see the great Andes far back among the clouds. This was to be our last view; they were nearly out of sight, and we were to enter upon a new life. José and the mules had left us. Our party was composed of Mamoré, Richards, and myself. As the crew came one by one from Vinchuta, with parts of the cargo carried on their backs, Mamoré barked; his loud voice made the wild forest ring. The crew became attached to him at once, and laughed at the fear expressed by those who came up last. We found him to be valuable, and rated him as sentinel both by night and by day.
The boat's crew was deficient. There were ten men here, four had been left along the banks of the river on their way up with the smallpox, and one of the ten was taken sick here; therefore our crew was reduced to nine working men. The sick boy lay on the bank with this horrible disease, shaded by a few green leaves from the hot sun in the day, and partly protected from the rain during the night, without medical attention or any relief whatever. The poor creature seemed to bear the pain with patience, but his stare was sickening as he looked up from under the bushes.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.
Lith. of P.S. Duval & Co. Phil.
VINCHUTA, Bolivia.
Two of the crew were engaged with small iron axes cutting sticks of wood long enough to rest the ends on the inside of the canoe across the bottom, so as to leave an inch or two space under this flooring for any water to pass clear of the baggage. Five of these floorings were laid at equal distances apart, wide enough to place two trunks lengthwise, and two more on top of them, with space between for two canoemen to sit and paddle. Raw-hides were placed on the platforms, and on them the baggage was neatly laid. Our trunks and boxes stowed very well, and were covered with raw-hide. As the bottom of our boxes were water-tight, we were satisfied that unless we upset or filled, the baggage would go perfectly dry—an important matter in a wet climate under the most favorable circumstances—and more so when there is no stopping-places on the road from town to town, where the traveller can pick up a dinner.