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

by William Lewis Herndon; Lardner Gibbon

We encamped for the night on the east side of the river, where the thick forest trees prevented my getting latitude by the stars. This is the first clear night we have had for a long time. I doubt, even if the branches of the trees were out of the way, if the swarms of musquitoes would allow me to observe. Richards generally stands by with a bush when the sand-flies or musquitoes are troublesome, but they bite through the holes in a man's boot in spite of his stockings.

We entered the woods some distance with the gun, just before dark, and found that as we left the river the trees became smaller, and in some cases the land was even now covered with water, long grass, and canebrakes.

The banks of rivers that flow through a low, flat, newly-made soil, are thrown up high by deposits, so much so that the surface of the water, at times, is above the general level of the country near it. When the river rises, it breaks over the banks and floods the back lands.

The largest forest trees are found immediately on the banks; these trees are most frequently undermined and carried down stream by the currents. It will not do to judge of the general character of a country by the size of the trees found driving out of the mouth of a river. When the first navigators on the Amazon saw great logs floating out of the mouth of the river, in whose tributaries we are, they called it "Madeira." This fact set us all looking about for the largest trees in the world, but they are not to be found here.

After supper the crew knelt by the light of the moon in prayer. "Padre" gave out a hymn, and they all sang according to the teachings of the Catholic church. The scene was a solemn one. Their voices echoed over the waters of the river, and through the woods to the listening wild beasts of the wilderness. Dressed in white cotton "camisas," they kneeled down with faces up, praying with hat in hand. We were able to look at their countenances, which were grave and serious, with an expression of truthfulness and honest devotion.

The prayers of the evening being over, the captain, a tall, well-built, noble-looking old Indian, stood up and made a speech to the others who lay upon the hairy side of raw hides on the ground. It was an obituary address of some length for the lost member of their canoe. This fine featured Indian had naturally the powers of an orator; he was fluent and spoke fast. When he reached the winding up of his harangue, he was overcome by his feelings, and speaking of the unhappy news they were called upon to convey to the mother and widow, he shed tears. His manly arm was reached out to point towards the paddle of the lost man, as the last and only token left by the father to the son.

When the captain finished, they all uttered "buenos noches" to each other, and we slept by the side of the river.

At daybreak in the morning, the monkeys began the usual chattering. We were struck at the ease with which an ugly, cheerful Indian, who looks out for snags in the bow, and is generally laying on his belly keeping watch ahead, repeated English words after Richards. The English language, the schoolmaster decided, came much more easy to these people than Spanish. "Nig," as Richards called him, was the droll one of the crew. He pronounced clearly each word as it was spoken to him; and yet this man was one of those who could not speak Spanish, generally considered the most easy to learn. The language of these Indians sounds like German. The Yuracares speak fast and constantly, like the French. The Aymara has the sound of English more than any. The Quichua, both in tone and notes of the words corresponds to the Welsh or Irish, which I have heard spoken.

The Indians beached the canoe, and for the first time had a general bath. As we passed a cross standing on the bank, the crew took off their hats; this was out of respect for a friend who had been buried there. We passed several of these wooden crosses; near some of them plantain trees were growing.

The wind is very light, and generally from the north; the current of air seems to follow the bed of the river up-stream. The river widens to two hundred and fifty yards. We find the current by holding on to the end of a snag in mid-channel while we heave the current log. We have no anchor and chain.