Vines and creepers were bowed and fastened by the ends to the sides of the after-part of the canoe, and over them were spread raw-hides, hair side under, for the length of twelve feet. This was the cabin. Our gun was slung overhead, powder-flask and shot-bag to the bows. The instrument box was safely stowed inside, so that we might get at the ruled paper, and chart the river. We set our compass inside also. The floor of the cabin was a rustic grating made by one of the crew, with small straight sticks fastened to a heavy cross piece by means of a slender creeper. Our beds were kept in India-rubber bags. After getting nearly ready, we found there still remained another load of salt in the governor's house, and as night had come on and the rain began to fall, we would be detained until the next day. Then, too, the schoolmaster and the disappointed ex-governor were to take passage in the same canoe; it was their only chance like ours, and as there was no telling when another canoe would be here, all claim a right to go. Of course I could not object, under such circumstances, although they would be very much in our way, as we were about to explore a critical part of navigation on the upper waters of the Madeira.
So our tent was pitched on the bank; it had been our house on the barren mountain-tops, and now it was put up in the wild woods. There the climate was cold, and the tent protected and kept us warm. Here the climate is hot, and when the tent is closed and the canvass became wet, we found the heat oppressive. We could not sleep, so we threw open the door-way and in swarmed musquitoes. It was evident that the tent could not accommodate so many comfortably; we were therefore driven out. The rain-storm increased. I found my way down the clayed bank to the canoe. Richards joined the schoolmaster under the rustic hut. The musquitoes soon drove me out, and we all gathered round a large fire built by the Indians, and watched their mode of passing such a night.
A large pot of water was put on the fire. It was midnight; the wind roared through the forest trees, and the rain beat heavily at the feet of the Andes. The Indians drew knives and gathered round the light of the fire to skin the yuca. Some divided them into small pieces, and pitched them into the pot with a piece of salted meat. After the pot was properly hung over the fire by a strong raw-hide rope, they lay down under their green leaf roof, and with their feet to the hot ashes, and heads covered with an extra shirt, stretched out for a nap. One kept awake as cook to attend the boiling pot.
All slept soundly for a while. We were then disturbed by musquitoes and the rain. The Indians were snoring; the cook was talking to his pot as it boiled over, and the water caused a hissing noise in the fire. Suddenly all jumped up, leaving their bark-cloth camisas under cover, and joined the cook in the rain.
We carry a tin wash-basin, which happened to be close by in the light of the fire. I did not understand why it had not been put into the canoe with other things. One of the naked red men picked it up and placed it near the cook, who turned the hot yuca soup into the basin. A satisfactory expression shone in every face as they squatted around our tin wash-basin. Each man formed his fingers into spoon-shape, and dipped in; thus they laughingly passed the remainder of the night. One hand was actively playing between the basin and their mouths, while the other was constantly in motion flapping the musquitoes, who came up from the darkness behind. Our dog rose up from his sleeping position to look on. The men were constantly calling him by his familiar name, and dividing their share of the supper with him. We were obliged to be resigned to our fate, not knowing where to go for comfort, or how to get to sleep. These wild men accommodated themselves perfectly to circumstances. We looked on as long as we could keep our eyes open, and at last fell asleep. At day-break I found myself refreshed; but on opening my eyes, saw my pillow had been the body of the poor sick boy, who was so weak with the small-pox that we had him sent up to the governor.
These kind-hearted men pay all the attention to the sick they possibly can; but they are at a loss to know what to do for the small-pox. They wait patiently until it passes away. I believe they think it is a punishment sent to them, and they must bear it the best way they can.
The Yuracares Indians are not navigators, but hunters, and are less under the control of the church than either the cultivators of the soil or our canoemen. I was unable to find out the number composing the Yuracares tribe, but there are not many of them. Chimoré is the capital of the province, and in the list of "villas," which are given for all places containing over three hundred inhabitants, Chimoré is not found. The Yuracares tribe are scattered along the base of the Andes in this province in little bands of from seven to twenty; and there may be in the whole province six hundred Yuracares Indians. The present productions of Yuracares are confined principally to the cinchona bark and coca.
As the streams and soils have not been carefully examined, we are ignorant of its mineral wealth. Yuracares is an extensive province, well wooded and watered, with a very sparse population throughout. At the base of this ridge of mountains appears the most inviting place we have met in Bolivia for the cultivator of the soil. It is within the rain-belt. The coffee tree of Yuracares is much more heavily loaded with grains than those seen at Rio Janeiro, in Brazil.
The small-pox was brought by the Indians of the low country, who in turn had it from Brazil, and finally bore it up the mountain-side into the city of Cochabamba.
A warehouse should be constructed in Vinchuta in the most careful way, to avoid the dampness of the climate. Flour spoils quickly, particularly that made from grain produced in a cold climate. Southern grain lasts the longest there. White cotton goods must be covered to avoid the wet, as well as all other articles which are in the least injured by damp weather. All valuable goods should be well packed in bales of seventy-five pounds weight. A mule carries half a cargo up the eastern side of the Andes. Two bales, weighing one hundred and fifty pounds, are taken at the same price three hundred are carried for on better roads.