At Porto de Mataurá a guard-house is situated on the east bank. Richards climbed up the steep bank, and presented passports to the commander, who was kind enough to send an officer to offer us a house if we would remain. The officer returned again with a present of a couple of watermelons, said to be an uncertain remedy for fever and ague. They were small, only half ripe, but soon devoured, as they were the only refreshing thing we had seen, except a little sugar-cane, since leaving the fort. The suffering from fever was increased to agony when the same dose had been imprudently repeated. Drinking water was 87°, and the temperature of the air, in the shade, 89°. Under such circumstances fruits and melons are luxurious. The temptation is great, but the sick should be particularly guarded against using such injurious articles, however pleasant to the taste.
As we move on the lands become more elevated, and are better adapted for cultivation than others below Crato. The forest trees are small where the lands are free from inundation, corresponding to observations made as we floated into the middle of Madeira Plate, near Exaltacion. Small streams of water flow in from the east, while, on the west, "madres," or large pools, have an outlet through the bank. The rule is, high banks on the east side of the Madeira, and low to the west, with few exceptions. Springs are scarce. The water trickling down the blue, red, or yellow banks is the coolest, even after being bottled and stowed under our seats. The air is 96° Fahrenheit; the heat is very oppressive. Under us there are twenty-four feet water; in some places no bottom at one hundred and fifty-six feet. As the river rolls along straighter, we find more irregularity in the channel, and width, in some places, full one mile. On both banks we see small houses, with a few plantain and orange trees about them. These are the settlements of the descendants of the Portuguese. A canoe or two lay by the bank opposite each house. As we swiftly passed along, by the force of paddles—for the current was only one mile per hour—the bright moon rose up over the sea of foliage and lit our way to the town of Borba, on the 14th of October, 1852.
With a bundle of letters, I crawled up the steep bank to the house of Capitan Diogo, father of my friend Don Antonio. He ran his fingers through grey locks of hair, and laughed at the idea of a man's getting sick on such a voyage; gave me a horrible cup of tea made from the leaves of a bush found in the woods, which put me to sleep, as he was boasting of his extraordinary long travels up and down the rivers, and how he used to doctor himself. He was very cheerful until he counted the money brought from his son and partner, when he wanted to know "if that was all Antonio had made on his trip to Bolivia."
In the morning our baggage was brought up, and the soldiers turned over to the commander of police. Borba is a small town of three hundred inhabitants. Two rows of miserable wooden huts stand parallel with a most distressingly dilapidated church; bells, old and cracked, are hung under a small shed near the door. On the soil, whence the forest trees had been cleared, was a thick sod of small bladed grass, on which a few poor, slim-looking cows were pasturing. Large and fat hogs came grunting at the door. The hot sun had deadened the wool on the backs of a few sheep, and in its place, a fleece of straight, grey hair came out as a substitute. When man forces the animal intended by God for a cold climate into a hot one, a new nature comes to the poor, panting creature's relief, and puts upon it a coat of cool hair, instead of the hot woollen one.
The Spaniards have forced the hog so high up on the Andes that he suffers every time he raises his bristles, and dies out of place; while the Portuguese find it impossible to produce good mutton or wool on the hot plains of the Amazon. Indians, in a warm climate, grease or oil their naked skins as a protection from the sun, or that the rains may slide off the more easy; while those we saw on the frozen mountain tops, clothed themselves in wool, and greased their insides with mutton. They appear to understand perfectly why the earth was provided with meat and clothing.
The inhabitants of Borba are principally negroes, who are very noisy, both in-doors and out; one-half of them are slaves. Those of Portuguese descent are extremely indolent. We observed few children of any color. The women wear their hair put up behind with large tortoise-shell combs, fancifully carved. Their dresses are very short-waisted, which gives them a more awkward appearance than they really deserve. The men wear trousers, and a shirt with the tail outside, which looks cool. Neither sex walk out except to church, when they dress in deep black cloth and silks, with gold ornaments and diamonds in profusion, brought from the head-waters of the Tapajos—or to the river to bathe, when they leave almost all wearing apparel at home.
The houses are of one-story and long; there are no doors hinged between the rooms, only those opening to the street. Curtains are hung from the upper part of the doorways to within a few inches of the brick floor. One day a fresh breeze blew into the windows, and the draft through the doors raised up all the curtains, when we discovered the family seated on a rug, spread on the floor, sewing. The girls were pretty, with large deep black eyes and hair; they quickly pulled their little bare feet under their dresses, and laughed heartily at the sudden surprise. Their hair was all down; hooks and eyes not fastened. The lady of the house was very kind on her side of the curtain, handed Quinine and Port wine on our side to the Capitan, who declared he could cure the fever in a short time. He insisted upon my joining him every night at ten in a hot supper; at the same hour in the morning at breakfast, and disapproved of sleeping—which was all we wanted, except to get out of the country as soon as possible. Our bread was made of Richmond flour, which is said to keep better in this climate than more northern flour from the United States. Whether this is owing to the mode of grinding the grain, or a difference in the character of the wheat itself, is to be tested. Turtle and chicken were the principal meats, with coffee and Portuguese red wine. The tobacco, which is produced on the banks of the Madeira, is said to be superior in quality to any in Brazil. It is made up in rolls, seven feet long and three inches in diameter, carefully wrapped up in a strip of rattan closely wound round it. Each staff contains two pounds; bundles of them are exported, with cacao, Brazil nuts, coffee, and sarsaparilla, to the Atlantic coast.
The trade of Borba is insignificant. According to Capitan Diogo's account, there are not more than two thousand people, Indians and all, inhabiting the banks of the Madeira, principally found near the stream; the country in the interior being a wilderness, tangled, matted, and in places swampy, where alligators bask in the sun on the beaten-down grass, and tigers roam freely after tapir tracks. At the small farms, near Borba, sugar-canes are raised and rum is manufactured—a greater quantity of the latter article being consumed in Brazil, the trade in it seems to be the most extensive of all others. A few watermelons, oranges, and limes are raised, but less than are required for home consumption.
There were no men belonging to Borba to take us on. The authorities ordered the soldiers who came with us to go on. I regretted this for two reasons. One, that we were in hopes of getting rid of these impudent, half-savage free negroes, who refused positively to obey the authorities of the town. Another, that the commander of Beira wished me to send them back as soon as possible after we arrived here, as it would take them five months to regain their posts. But I found they were obliged to go as far as Barra do rio Negro, to purchase a little iron, which, with some guaraná, they had been ordered to carry to the fort, and to our surprise, the men wanted to go with us in preference to remaining in Borba, or returning to their usual duties. A larger boat was fitted out. Pedro, our pilot, was paid off, as his services were needed as boat-builder by the Capitan, who filled our basket with chickens, and gave us a water-cooler. Two large cakes, with a jar of preserved oranges, were sent to the boat by the wife of our friend Don Antonio, whose little child came to thank us for bringing letters from the father and husband. The kind old Capitan gave me particular instructions about the fever, which he had partly cured, while he nearly killed the patient. We pushed off with three Portuguese passengers.
The river was thirty feet above its present level, in the rainy season, and has now thirty feet depth off Borba. A vessel may lay moored to the bank of the river. There is stone at hand for building wharves if needed. The northeast trade-winds blow fresh, and we find a difficulty in making head-way; the current of the river has slackened to half a mile per hour. The winds blow directly in opposition to it, which baffles us considerably. In the evening, the wind falls away, and we push off from the bank where the boat is fastened, to hold what we have gained.