CHAPTER XVIII.AMATEUR BARBERS—AN INDIAN EXQUISITE—MOUTH OF THE CAKO—CAMP ON VENEZUELAN TERRITORY—TRUMPETERS—MOUNT CAROUTA—REASON FOR ASCENDING THE CAKO—MARIMA—INDIAN GUIDE—GLIMPSE OF RORAIMA—THE ARUPARU CREEK—COTINGAS—SAVANNA INDIANS—A WATER LABYRINTH—AMUSING SCENES—END OF NAVIGATION.
AMATEUR BARBERS—AN INDIAN EXQUISITE—MOUTH OF THE CAKO—CAMP ON VENEZUELAN TERRITORY—TRUMPETERS—MOUNT CAROUTA—REASON FOR ASCENDING THE CAKO—MARIMA—INDIAN GUIDE—GLIMPSE OF RORAIMA—THE ARUPARU CREEK—COTINGAS—SAVANNA INDIANS—A WATER LABYRINTH—AMUSING SCENES—END OF NAVIGATION.
As the Captain did not arrive at the appointed time with the woodskins, we amused ourselves with some amateur hair-cutting, which so delighted the natives that many of them insisted on being shorn of their long black tresses. These they carefully gathered, and after wrapping them in leaves buried in some retired part of the forest, so that no Kanaima should get hold of them and exercise his incantations to the destruction of their late owner. Here we discovered that Mazaruni, who was extremely plain, was excessively conceited, and was never tired of gazing at himself in a small hand-glass, and arranging the straw ornaments in his nose and ears in what he considered the most becoming fashion. Whenever a woodskin appeared in which there were any ladies, he would immediately retire to his hammock and change his dress,i.e., take out the old straws and insert new ones, carefully placing them at the proper angle. Then with a few fresh touches of blue and vermillion he brightenedhimself up, and felt that he was a dandy of the first water. By the time the barber’s duties were completed the Captain arrived with his woodskins, which were quickly loaded, and we proceeded up the river.
Stepping into a woodskin for the first time is a delicate undertaking. If the foot is placed on one side a capsize ensues, and in the exact centre the bark bends so that the feeling is that you are trusting yourself to a sheet of brown paper. The only safety is in stepping in lightly and quickly, and at once sitting down in the bottom of the boat, breathing only when you are perfectly balanced in the middle of it. A little practice, however, soon gives confidence, and you are able to use your gun as well as in an ordinary-sized craft. The paddlers sit one at each end, the man in the bows having to keep a sharp look out for rocks or snags, which would pierce or upset the frail shell in a moment.
In about three hours we reached the mouth of the Cako, and looking up that river saw in the distance a fine table-mountain called Carotipu. We found the Cako to be a fine river, about one hundred yards in width, and with moderately high banks. We ascended a short distance, and then camped on the left bank—the Venezuelan[84]side—in order to be free from several Indian parties who had erected their “banaboos” on the opposite shore. But our precaution was of no avail, as when we were comfortably settled and had cleared the bush around, over came the Indians andquietly established themselves in our midst. One or two of the women had pleasing countenances, but their striped and too sturdy limbs and sack-like forms entirely destroyed the first impression of feminine beauty. I think it was Alphonse Karr who said, “La nature a fait la femelle, et la civilization a fait la femme!”
Most of the men were powerfully made, but their painted and unintelligent faces were not improved by the black pellets which, according to custom, they all held between their lips. This vegetable pellet—I do not know what it is composed of—is the Indian substitute for the betel-nut of the Malays, the cocoa-leaf of the South Americans, the opium of the Chinese, the tobacco of Europeans, and in outward appearance is not an improvement on any of them. When the natives heard that we wished to buy provisions, they brought us all they could, but it only amounted to a small quantity of cassava bread, a few pumpkins, and three or four roots of sweet cassava.[85]The latter not being poisonous require no special preparation, and when the roots are roasted they are very palatable. Our next object was to buy some woodskins, as the owner of those that had brought us from the Mazaruni did not wish to part with them. On the day after our arrival five were offered to us, and these we purchased for four small flasks of powder. As ten shillings was not much to give for five boats, we promised the natives that on our return they should receive them back again.
Powder is eagerly sought by the Indians, as many of them have long single-barrel guns—buck-guns theyare called in Demerara—that they have obtained in trade, and their opportunities of getting ammunition are exceedingly limited! They are very fond of fire-arms, and our breech-loaders were a never-ending source of wonder to them. Of late, we had heard the most appalling sounds issuing from the forest; sometimes they resembled the bellowing of a cow who had lost her calf, and at others were like the howls of a wild animal. At last one of the perpetrators was shot, and it proved to be a small bird known in Guiana as the “calf bird,” which has a bald head and plumage of an olive colour.
McTurk told me that these birds are common on the Pomeroon River, and that once a newly arrived Englishman, who had been out shooting one day, returned in haste to camp, with the intelligence that he had heard such a terrific bellowing and roaring that he was certain a band of tigers were fighting with some other animals. McTurk and others hastened to the scene, and shot three calf-birds. Considering that it comes from a bird, the noise is certainly the most astounding I have ever listened to. We shot some trumpeter[86]birds, which also make a very peculiar sound. They live in flocks, run swiftly over the ground, and look like a number of diminutive ostriches. They are graceful creatures, with long velvety necks, beautiful blue and purple breast-feathers, and back and wings of a silver grey. The Indians call them Waracabas, from a fanciful resemblance in their notes to the cry of the Waracaba tigers, which hunt in packs.
Having spent nearly two days in camp, with the vain hope of securing a guide to Roraima, we determinedto start early on the following morning. The natives promised to bring more cassava on the morrow if we could only wait another day, but with an Indian the morrow is as indefinite a period as “mañana” with the Spaniards, or “bookra” with the Arabs. The five woodskins—the two largest each containing three persons, and the smaller, two—were loaded down to the water’s edge when we set out, but we soon reached Captain David’s house, and there we left the three quakes of provisions for our return journey. The course of the river was pretty and very winding, continually opening out fresh views of distant mountains. We rounded the northern extremity of Mount Carouta which was thickly wooded, except under its high central dome, where the precipitous rock was quite bare. Nearly all the mountains that we had hitherto seen, were extremely precipitous on the northern and eastern faces, but on the western side there were generally patches of heavy forest even where, to the eye, it looked most perpendicular. We hoped that Roraima would present the same forest growth, and by ascending the Cako River we thought we might arrive opposite the western slope of the mountain.
We knew little about the course of the river, as no information could be obtained from the Indians, and we were probably the first white men who had ever ascended it. As it was probable that the river rose in the mountain range near Roraima, we intended to follow it as far as we could, and then strike off across country. From what Captain David told us, we were much afraid that owing to the scant population along the river banks we should be unable to find a guide. Still we determined to push on, and in the event offailure, to return to the mouth of the Cako and make another attempt to reach Roraima by the Cukuie River.
After passing Carouta, we saw in our front the flat-topped mountain of Ibropu, and soon after we camped on the right bank of the river, opposite a path leading to Camarang, on the Mazaruni. We erected our shed on a high jutting promontory above a white sand beach, and after unloading the woodskins carried the quakes up the bank. It was fortunate we did not leave them below, as in the morning there was no sand to be seen; the river had risen, and the beach was covered to a depth of three or four feet. As we approached Ibropu, we caught sight of a fine waterfall that descended from its eastern slope, and the stream which it formed entered the Cako near a very pretty island. Here, two fine Muscovy[87]ducks flew over our heads, and, as they ran the gauntlet, each boat in succession greeted them with a volley, but unsuccessfully. Shortly afterwards, I discovered five more swimming near the shore, and by dint of quiet paddling and taking advantage of a bushy point we crept within range, and with two barrels I bagged four of them. They were very large and heavy birds, differing from the tame Muscovy only in having less coral about the bill. They are difficult to approach, and though we frequently saw them alight on the high trees, and from afar distinguished them by their white wing-coverts, yet by the end of the day we had only obtained six. It is said that these ducks build their nests on lofty trees, and, when the young ones are sufficiently grown, the parents carry them down to the swamps to educate them. Those we shot were uncommonlytough, but duck and pumpkin were such rare delicacies that, had the former been of cast-iron, I think we should have enjoyed them.
We passed along the east side of Ibropu, then the ever-winding river turned south, and we saw a high table-mountain which we fancied must be Roraima, but the view was only for a moment, and then a veil of clouds concealed it. Afterwards we found out that the mountain we had seen was Marima, which is situated to the north-east of Roraima. We paddled along fine stretches of river, here getting a snipe, there a duck, and sometimes a curri-curri, and at last camped on the left bank. Before it was dark we heard the sound of a horn blown lustily from the river, and soon a woodskin appeared containing a man, woman, and child. It turned out that they lived near Roraima, and having heard from Captain David that we wanted a guide had hastened after us. The man’s name was Abraham, which was about the only common biblical name that we had not encountered among our various crews at some time or other. He declined to camp with us, but preferred going farther on, as he said that close by was the cave of a celebrated “water-māmā,” near whom it was dangerous to sleep.
The Indians firmly believe in the reality of these mermaids, or “water-māmās,” as they are called in Dutch Creole; and where they are supposed to have their caves or nests, there great danger awaits the traveller. Some are related to be extremely beautiful and possessing long golden hair—like the Lorelei—and whoever casts his eye on them is seized with madness, jumps into the deep water, and never returns. Others are hideous, snakes being twined about them, and withtheir long white talons they drag boats under the water and devour their occupants. On the Orinoco and Amazon similar creatures are supposed to exist, but these are capable of drawing their prey into their mouths at a distance of a hundred yards. In order to avoid such a calamity, the natives always blow a horn before entering a creek or lagoon in which one of these monsters may be living; if it happens to be there, it will immediately answer the horn and thus give warning to the intruder.
When we awoke in the morning it seemed as if the “water-māmā” had indeed bewitched us. The river, which on the previous night flowed quietly beneath the bank on which we were encamped, had disappeared. The woodskins were high and dry on a ledge of rocks that extended for some distance up and down the bed of the stream. There, on the other side of the rocky plateau we discovered the lost river, which had fallen three feet during the night, and had lost nearly the same volume of water that it had gained after the recent rains. About a mile farther on we found Abraham waiting anxiously for us, and glad that we had survived the perils of the night. On this day we caught some beautiful views of Roraima whenever the clouds lifted, and towards noon we left the Cako and turned into a broad creek on its right bank called the Aruparu. By so doing we feared—as eventually proved to be the case—that we should not reach Roraima from its western flank, but as our guide assured us that it was the only way he knew of, we thought it best to follow his advice.
The creek scenery was pretty, but monotonous; the clay banks were clothed with thick bush, with hereand there masses of yellow blossoms and the pink tassels of the Brownea. There were also many shrubs known as the “witê,” whose long velvet pods contain beans covered with a very sweet but insipid pulp. A drawback in picking them was that every pull brought down showers of stinging ants, which, as well as parrots, are very fond of that fruit. Sometimes we passed an Indian banaboo that had lately been occupied, and at others the new jungle growth showed where a small village had once existed. At the mouths of the smaller streams, which flowed into the creek, there was generally a barricade of sticks and poles made by the natives for securing fish, but most of the streams were dry and the barricades of ancient date. In the mud and sand were endless tracks of tapirs and the “water-haas”—capybara—and occasionally a splash and rustle told where we had disturbed one of the latter, but we were seldom near enough for a shot.
Ducklars were very numerous, and as we turned each corner, there they would be sitting in rows on the branches of fallen trees awaiting our approach; then a dive and an ungainly flutter to start them, and away they would go to the next bend in the river. But after the Muscovy ducks the men looked with disdain on the fishy ducklar, and those that were shot that day remained uneaten. On many subsequent occasions they looked back with regret on the despised and wasted ducklars. Now and then we heard the “kwet-kwet” of the beautiful scarlet cotinga, and once the brilliant but harsh-voiced pompadour[88]flew across in front of us. Not seldom the narrowing stream was over-arched by the bending trees, and under their darkshadows the splendid blue morphos and still more lovely butterflies of a sparkling violet hue floated lazily. At one place where the forest seemed clearer we ascended the bank, and were gratified by the sight of a savanna, which with a diversity of wood and hill stretched off to some distant mountains.
Owing to the muddy nature of the banks and the thick bush, it was late that night before we could find a camping ground, but at last we came to a spot where some Indians had already erected their sheds. They were wild-looking creatures, hideously painted and stained, and the hair of the men was longer than that of the women. They were stalwart and tall, and had come from their homes in the savanna country to this fashionable watering-place for fishing and bathing. They shook their heads and groaned when they heard that we were going to Roraima, and recommended us to turn back and not act foolishly.
An amusing incident occurred here. Our primitive acquaintances kept us awake for some time with their monotonous sing-song talk, and shortly after I had dropped asleep McTurk awoke me with the intelligence that he was going to have his bath, as day was breaking. I got up at once, as it appeared to be getting light, and we bathed and dressed, and sat in our hammocks waiting coffee. After some time day did not appear to advance much, and to our astonishment we saw the moon slowly rising over the trees. In our anxiety to make an early start we had mistaken moonrise for daybreak, and had got up at about half-past twelve a.m.
Hitherto the creek had been free from all impediments and was deep enough to float large boats, butsoon after we left our sleeping quarters the ominous stroke of an axe told us that Abraham was cutting a passage through a fallen tree. For the rest of the day our journey was like going in a canoe through a forest that had been cut down and left. Here, a great tree trunk permitted the passage of the woodskins underneath, but without their loads; there, an enormous limb necessitated the unloading and lifting over of the boats; in some places a sunken log had sufficient water flowing over it to float the woodskins, but only after their contents had been discharged; in others an opening had to be cut through tangled branches and stems. We were never in the boats for five minutes at a time; it was a perpetual jumping in and out, loading and unloading, lifting and hauling, pushing and carrying, cutting and squeezing. Frequently, the arch formed by the overhanging trunk seemed high enough to allow the woodskin and its contents to pass under, but when well in the centre a jam would occur, and we would find ourselves crouching in the bottom of the boat unable to move hand or foot, and water rapidly coming in over the sides. It was most amusing, and I never enjoyed a good laugh at McTurk’s expense without immediately finding myself in a similar position. The great strain on the woodskins caused two of them to split, and only by rapidly conducting them to shore did we save them from sinking. By filling the cracks with bark, linen, and paper, they were soon made serviceable again.
The windings of the creek were extraordinary; often after following a southerly direction for a mile or more, we would turn north for the same distance, and come out on the other side of the narrow promontoryonly a few yards from where we had started. The same thing would be repeated east and west, and the patient stream seemed never tired of twisting itself into a hundred folds and then untwisting.
Just before dark, we arrived at a place past which it would be impossible to proceed, and Abraham informed us that we had reached the end of the creek journey. So we landed and built our house.