There were thirty savages living in this wild, out-of-the-way place. One of the men was chipping off the outside of a hollow piece of log with his knife for a drum, two of which already hung up under the shed. They expressed no pleasure at seeing us. They looked as though they preferred we would go away. The roof of the wooden house under which the men were collected was beautifully thatched with a species of wild palm-leaf. The frame-work was made of poles stripped of their bark, fastened together by vines or creepers. The whole rested upon forked posts set in the ground, between which there were slung a number of grass hamacs. Bows and arrows were their only home-made arms. The knives were imported. After making friends with them, they all came up, shook hands, and took a good look at me. The floor of the guard or men's house was swept clean. It seemed to be kept in military order, clear of all household or kitchen furniture. One of the men and several women went with me to examine the dwelling-houses of the women. The roof extended within two feet of the ground. The sides and gable ends were also thatched in, with a doorway at each corner, and one in the centre next the guard-house; five entrances in all. The inside presented a confused appearance. Piles of ashes were scattered about the ground floor as though each woman had her separate fireplace. The inside measured about forty feet by fifteen. Earthen pots and plates were lying about in confusion; dirty, greasy hamacs hung up; tamed parrots were helping themselves to plantains. An ugly monkey looked dissatisfied at being fastened by the hinder part of the body to a post. The unpleasant variety of odors drove us out. In the third house there were but two doors. Here the miserable dogs kept up a terrible noise. The women took me to the hamac of an old sick Indian, who they made signs was dying by laying their heads on the palms of their hands and shutting their eyes. He was covered with a bark cloth blanket, which was cast off by him so that I might see his thin legs and body. He was very much reduced. By the whiteness of his hair, I judged he was dying of old age, or suffocated inside this damp, filthy house, where he seemed to have been turned to the dogs. There was one house in which the women slept. The open house was the sleeping apartment of the men and boys. There was great order among the men; the grounds round about were swept. Where the women were seemed all confusion and want of cleanliness. Their faces were covered with dirt. As to their clothing, we could better describe what they did not wear.
We saw no signs of a place of worship, nor of what was worshipped, though the Brazilians say they have seen among them "wooden images," figures of head and shoulders in shape like a man. A Catholic priest once visited these people, but found no encouragement. They looked on indifferently, taking more interest in the music of a violin and the singing than in anything else. The lofty forest trees shade the little huts; a path leads farther inland, where they cultivate patches of yuca and corn, though they have little to eat from the land at present, and take to the river for food. The children of these Indians strike us as being remarkably intelligent, compared with those on the tops of the Andes. All Indian children seem to be in much brighter spirits than the older ones. They have yet to be taught the art of using chicha, which the women are said to give their husbands here in the woods. We gave the multitude an invitation to join us at breakfast. A little boy walked by me with the rooster under his arm, and they all followed single file, with the music of crying babies, to the bank of the river, where they seated themselves round. Some presents were made to them in exchange for the offer of several chickens and a large partridge. To the little girls we gave earrings, to supply the place of fish or beast-bones; to the boys fish-hooks; and to the men knives. The elderly women particularly fancied looking-glasses for themselves, and glass beads for their babies. One very unattractive woman requested me to make her an additional present of a looking-glass. A knife had been offered, which she particularly requested. She received the refusal with such a savage side-glance, that the damage was repaired at once, and the men ordered into the boat. Her sister used paint. Her forehead was besmeared with a red color, and her lips blackened. We presented her with a large looking-glass, which she used for examining as far down her throat as possible. Pedro had a slight difficulty with one of the savages, who he said had stolen his knife from the boat. I replaced it, and we went on without being disturbed, though, as we afterwards learnt, these fellows not long since robbed two Brazilians on the river, who escaped down stream in one of the bark canoes of the savages, leaving their own boat behind. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 91°; water, 85°; river one mile wide, interspersed with islands and rocks, twenty-five fathoms depth. On the east side a small stream of clear water flows in. The water of these small side-streams are often 6° Fahrenheit cooler than the main river water. We bottle it, as the river water is unpleasantly warm for drinking. A man fully comprehends the blessing of ice by gliding down this river. The current is fast one hour and slow the next few minutes. The men pull when they feel like it, and rest when they wish. We are moving along, more or less, all the time during the day. The river is not very winding.
September 30.—About twenty-five miles on a northeasterly course brought us to "Doz Morrinhos" rapids. The difference of level here is slight, though the passes are difficult. A part of the baggage was handed over the rocks, which proved a prudent plan, as the boat was nearly swamped. The country is quite uneven and thickly wooded. At midday we had a light shower of rain, accompanied by thunder, without wind. At 3 p. m., thermometer, 87°; water, 85°; with a strong southwest wind. At the foot of these falls we sounded with five hundred and ten feet, and no bottom.
At a late hour in the afternoon we arrived at the head of "Teotoni" falls, the most terrific of them all. Here I was attacked with a severe bilious fever, which brought me at once on my back. The pain in my left breast was somewhat like that described by those who have suffered with the "Chagres fever." We were all worn out, thin, and haggard. I had been kept going by excitement, as the men were careless, brutal negroes, and Richards suffering still with the pain in his ear.
October 1.—This fall is over fifteen feet, ten of which is at an angle of 45 degrees. The roaring made at intervals by the rushing of the waters over and through the rocks, sounds like distant thunder. Our little canoe is driven for safety out of the water to the land. The baggage was carried by a path on the south side to the foot of the falls. Richards went along with the first load, and remained below looking out, while I rested to see every thing sent over. The men idled their time between us, until we were caught in a heavy rain and thunder storm from northeast. The boat was put upon rollers and transported four hundred yards over a hill, and launched into the river below. We were from daylight until dark at the work. I should not complain, however, because men never had a more harassing time than these have had. If alone, they would not have come half the distance in the same length of time. They have pushed on for me, when I least expected they would keep on.
We noticed that at nearly all the falls in the Madeira the river turns as it cuts its way through the rocks, forming nearly a semi-circle towards the eastward; after gaining the base of the declivity, the stream returns again to its original course. Here the path over the land describes a diameter. The storm continued all night in squalls. The negroes took off their clothes and laid down upon the bare rocks under a heavy rain, with cold wind, where they actually slept, while those of the crew, with Indian blood, built a fire and slept on the sand close by it in their clothes. The baggage was left on the sand bank until morning covered with raw hides. We were well drenched, certainly a poor remedy for bilious fever, particularly when followed by the heat of a tropical sun.
October 2.—Five miles below are "San Antonio" falls, which we passed by tow-lines without disembarking our baggage. The difference of level is very small; the bed of the river much choked with rocks. The stream is divided into a great number of rapid and narrow channels. We took breakfast on the west side, at the foot of these falls, with feelings of gratitude we had safely passed the perils of seventeen cataracts. Those parts of the rivers Madeira and Mamoré, between the foot of "San Antonio" and the head of "Guajará-merim" falls, are not navigable for any class of vessels whatever; nor can a road be travelled at all seasons of the year, on either bank, to follow the course of the river, for the land bordering on the stream is semi-annually flooded. By referring to the map it will be seen, we travelled from Guajará-merim, on the Mamoré, in a due north course, to the Pedreneira falls, on the Madeira. By the windings of the river, we estimate the distance not less than one hundred miles. From the Pedreneira falls to the foot of San Antonio, our direction was about east-northeast, a distance by the river of one hundred and forty miles, which makes the space not navigable two hundred and forty miles. A road cut straight through the territory of Brazil, from San Antonio falls, in a southwest direction, to the navigable point on the Mamoré, would not exceed one hundred and eighty miles. This road would pass among the hills, seen, from time to time, to the eastward, where the lands, in all probability, are not overflowed. On a common mule road, such as we find in Bolivia, a cargo could be transported in about seven days from one point to the other. Don Antonio Cordoza was five months struggling against these numerous rapids and rocks to make the same distance, with his cargo in small boats. We have been twelve days descending the falls, which is considered by Brazilian navigators fast travelling. The wild woods that cover the lands are unknown to the white man. Topographically considered, the lands on the east side of the Madeira are the most valuable.
Our experience with a black crew gives reason to believe the climate is more congenial to them than the white or red races. Among the half-civilized and savage aborigines, we notice very few men live to an old age; they generally pass away early; tribes are composed usually of men under forty years. The moment we landed at Principe, there appeared before us a number of active, gray-headed old negro women and men, grinning and bowing, with as much life in their expression of face and activity of manner as the youngest. Long after the savage has become hamac-ridden with age, the negro, born before him, is found actively employed. The physical strength of the negro is not equalled by the red man here. The Indian enjoys the shade of the forest trees, while our negroes rejoice in the heat of the sun.
The India rubber is found in these woods, with quantities of Brazil nuts and cacao trees. The whole forest is as constantly green as the snows on the peaks of the Andes are everlastingly white, although the leaves fall and the snow melts away. In the month of April, or thereabouts, the sap which flows through the veins of these forest trees, begins to fall, not suddenly, as the sap of the sugar-maple in our northern States, but gradually and slowly, as the live-oak, magnolia, or other evergreens of Florida. The sap descends from the topmost branches first; the leaves begin to sicken for want of nourishment; they wilt, and the first that falls to the ground is from the end of the branch which first lost its sustenance. The tide of sap ebbs a shorter time than is usual in a climate where half the year is wintry. The flood tide of sap goes up in time to send out new leaves at the top of the tree before the last on the lower limbs have fallen. During this rise and fall of the sap in the trees tropical forests shed their leaves. The work is performed in such a secret way, that it would not be observed, did we not find the ground covered with dead leaves, while the trees are perfectly green. On the Andes the llama, grazing near the snow line, had its back thickly clothed with wool, while the ground was strewed with its last year's crop. When the sun stands vertically over the llama, it sheds its wool; when the sun passes far off on its northern tour, the leaves fall from the forests at the base of those great mountains. Daring the season of the year when the sap is in upward motion, the "rubber" man taps the trees and gathers the milk, converting it into shoes by smearing it over a last, and poking it into the smoke of a small fire near by him. The guava and banana fall to the ground to fatten the wild pecary; the oriole nestles in the tree-tops, and feeds its young in the stocking-like nest which hangs from the tip ends of the limbs. Toucans appear astonished at the songs of our negroes as we paddle down, leaving the cataracts behind us.
At 3 p. m., thermometer, 86°; water, 84°; we bottled drinking water from a small stream on the west side, having a temperature of 76°; width of the river six hundred yards; sounded with two hundred and ten feet of line without finding bottom; current two miles per hour. The channel is perfectly clear of all obstructions; few logs are enabled to pass safely through all the falls in the dry season, but when the river rises they come down at a terrible rate, and in great numbers, though the channel of the Madeira is seldom as much obstructed by drift-wood as the Mississippi.