DON ANTONIO'S AMAZONIAN BOATS, EXALTACION, Bolivia.
The Cayavabo Indians are good horsemen. When they require cattle, a party mount horses and ride into the pampa, where they encounter the wild cattle. They ride round them in the most skilful manner, run them into an enclosure; from the outside of the fence they lasso a beef, and haul him to a bull-ring fixed in a post. Tame oxen are kept and fed near the place where the beef is butchered. The horns of a wild bull are sometimes secured to those of a tame ox, when they are let loose on the plain. The ox knows the road, and naturally runs to the place where he is fed at the market, and holds his wild brother, while the Indian puts him to death.
The boat's crew were mustered by the commissario, and in the presence of the correjidor, I paid them our passage money from Exaltacion to Forte do Principe da Beira, in Brazil, with the express understanding, that in case there were no men there for Don Antonio's boat to take me to the Amazon, they would continue with me to the town of Matto Grosso. It appeared very evident that the Indians disliked leaving the chacras, preferring much more to remain and gather their harvest than go on this voyage, which is seldom made by the Bolivians. They were fine, stout built men, and reported to be the very best crew belonging to the tribe. The correjidor gave them instructions to do whatever I desired of them, and to take good care of us, as we came down the mountains from where the President lived. He was also kind enough to give me the choice of all the canoes in port; the largest and best one measured thirty-nine feet long, by four feet three inches beam, and would carry, besides the crew, one thousand pounds weight; the paddles were five feet long.
The correjidor presented a raw-hide box filled with jerked beef—charque, as it is called—some corn bread, and farinha. The superintendent of the mill sent a jug of molasses and some of his best white sugar. We had appointed the 30th of August as our day of sailing, when the crew came down, headed by their captain, to beg we would allow them to celebrate the Fiesta de Santa Rosa, when mañana—next day—they would be ready to start. As there was dancing and an unusual encouragement of the chicha manufacturers in town, I saw there was no chance of getting off, and very unwillingly gave consent.
While we observed the northern stars for latitude, several Indians came to look on. Being shown the image of a star in the basin of mercury, they appeared astonished, and inquired of Don Antonio what we were doing. He told them we lived in the north, and were inquiring of the stars how far from home we were in their country. The fellows ran off immediately and called others to come and see the North Americans' home under the stars. One of them looked intently for some time at the little twinkling image in the quicksilver, and gravely told the others "it was far off."
August 31.—The crew came down to the canoe, bringing with them their farinha and women; this was a favorable sign for our getting off; the captain, however, came to me and said he was very drunk, and thought it best to put off our start until to-morrow; but the men were generally sober after their saint's day; stowed our baggage neatly in the canoe, kissed their children, and shook hands with their wives; one having been married lately to a good-looking Indian, cried; but the older ones took the departure more easy. The captain had a pretty little daughter of twelve years of age, with whom he seemed very loth to part, though he promised her to me as a wife when we returned. The "cacique" of the town came down with the men, and superintended the loading of the canoe. When we were all ready he made a speech, telling the men what their duties were, and wished them a safe return to their families. Each man stuck his bow and arrows, feathered-ends up, near by him, between the baggage and the side of the canoe, as they took their seats. We presented quite a "man-of-war" exterior. We pushed on down stream at rapid rate, leaving Don Antonio to follow to-morrow. Our canoe had a washboard all round her of six inches breadth. We found our load, with crew, brought her down so deep we took in water. The captain ran alongside of a perpendicular clay bank, with which we caulked ship. We passed several canoes loaded with sugar-cane, from the chacras on the way to the mill.
The river holds about the same width—four hundred yards, fifty-four feet deep, one mile and a half current per hour. We remained all night at the port of San Martin—the lower port of Exaltacion. The bank is thirty feet high, and steep. The distance from the town is not quite a mile, but the conveniences for landing at Trapiche are the best. The men asked permission to go to town and spend the night, promising to return by daylight in the morning. The captain's wife appeared with a jar of chicha; and after the fire was made, supper over, and beds made upon the bank, they went to town, and we slept upon the shore near the boat. There was a house on the bank, but it was filled with chickens and dogs, who were scratching themselves all night. The fire on the shore disturbed an ant's nest, and they gave the party some trouble; they stung Mamoré most unmercifully. We received another present of fruit from the correjidor, sent to meet us here, with his farewell compliments.
September 1, 1852.—The men came down strictly to their promise, and we at last got off, but it is dreadful slow work wading through this country; a man only worries himself who pretends to hurry—poco-poco is the word in Spanish. A few miles below San Martin we came to a stony point, the first rock we have seen since leaving Vinchuta. We take specimens of rocks, metals, minerals, and earths, as we go along. By the river we find chocolate, coffee, sugar-cane, papaya, plantains, pine apples, yuca, large straggling forest trees, thick undergrowth, but no inhabitants. The Indians all sleep in the towns, and work by day in the chacras. The largest cacao leaf I could find measured one foot six and a half inches in length, with five inches and three-quarters in breadth. The cacao tree grows wild in the woods; when planted in an orchard by themselves, even close together, the yield is much greater than where they grow in the shade of the larger forest trees. The soil here is of the richest kind.
At 9 a. m., thermometer, 88°; water, 79°. The turns in the river are becoming much longer; we find sixty-three feet water. With a gun, we landed on the west bank, and paid a visit to the pampa of Santiago, where the State has a large drove of cattle, attended by Indians. There are numbers of deer, and flocks of birds. The territory to the north, through which the Mamoré river flows, is inhabited by a warlike tribe of Indians, called Chacobos, who are constantly fighting with the Cayavabos, our crew. The men caught a number of fish from a pond on the pampa. My bottle, unfortunately, was too small at the mouth to admit more than one species. The banks of the river sometimes break down on both sides perpendicular, like those of the Mississippi. Where this is the case, the river is narrower—350 yards wide—though the soundings are over one hundred feet. We lost one lead and part of the line, but fortunately had duplicates.
September 2.—At 9 a. m., thermometer, 78°; water, 78°; light southeast winds; thunder and lightning during the night, with rain. The crew caught a number of young birds; and gathered eggs from the sand-beach, while the old birds—a species of gull—flew over them, cried, and darted down at the Indians' head as they made way with the young. Mamoré was let out among them. As he put his paw playfully on a young bird, the old ones were in swarms close over him, showing desperate fight in defence of their young. The sand is gray and black, like the rocks we saw yesterday. There are a few snags and sawyers in the channel. We observe they stick fast in the sandy bottom more securely than in the mud.