[1]The word pampa belongs to the Quechua language, language of the Incas. It signifies flat country, savannah, or great plain.
[1]The word pampa belongs to the Quechua language, language of the Incas. It signifies flat country, savannah, or great plain.
My journey was continued thus under rather singular circumstances—at the mercy of an Indian whose perfidy had been already abundantly proved, and from whom I could expect no good.
However, I was well armed, vigorous, resolute, and set out in pretty good spirits, convinced that my guide would never attack me to my face.
I beg to state that I was wrong in attributing bad intentions to the poor Indian, and that my precautions were unnecessary. Don Torribio and don Zeno Cabral had said the truth; the rude correction inflicted on my Guaranis had had the most salutary influence on him, and had entirely modified his intentions towards me.
He became more lively, more amiable, and especially more of a talker; I took advantage of this change in his disposition to sound him with regard to don Zeno Cabral.
This time also I completely failed, not because the Indian refused to answer me, but on account of his ignorance. In a few words, this is all I succeeded in learning.
Don Zeno Cabral was well known, and especially much feared by all the Indians who live on the desert, and who unceasingly traverse it in every direction. He was to them a strange, mysterious, incomprehensible being, whose power was very great. No one knew his regular abode; he almost possessed the attribute of ubiquity, for he had been seen at distances far removed from each other almost at the same time; the Indians had often laid traps to kill him without ever having succeeded in inflicting on him the slightest wound.
He often disappeared for months together without their knowing what had become of him, then they saw him suddenly camped in their midst without their knowing how he had arrived there.
On the whole, the Indians, apart from the respectful fear he had inspired in them, for the most part were much indebted to him; no one better than he knew how to cure those maladies supposed to be incurable by their sorcerers.
This information, if I can so call the timid and superstitious ramblings of my guide, left me more perplexed than I was before with regard to this man, whom everything tended to surround in my eyes with a mysterious halo.
A word uttered, perhaps, by chance by the Indian aroused still more my insatiable curiosity.
"He is a Paulista," he said to me, in a subdued voice, looking cautiously around him, as if he feared that this word might fall upon an indiscreet ear.
On several occasions during my stay at Buenos Aires, I had heard of the Paulistas: the information which had been given me with regard to them, although for the most part very incomplete and erroneous, had, however, greatly excited my curiosity.
The Paulistas, or Vicentistas, for these two names are indifferently applied to the early historians, first settled in the vast and magnificent plains of Piratininga. There was then organised under the intelligent and paternal direction of the two Jesuits, Antieta and Nobrega, a colony within a colony—a sort of half barbarous metropolis, which owes to its courage a continually increasing prosperity and influence, and the exploits of which if some day they are related, will form, I am convinced, a most interesting chapter in the history of Brazil.
Thanks to the intervention of the Jesuits in Brazil, the Europeans did not disdain to ally themselves with those strong and bellicose Indian races who so long held the Portuguese in check, and sometimes drove back the conquerors.
From these alliances there arose a warlike race—brave, inured to all kinds of fatigue, and remarkably daring, who, well governed, produced the Paulistas.
Several serious charges are laid at their door; they have been accused from the very foundation of their colony of having shown an indomitable and independent disposition, an affected disdain for the laws of the mother city, and an unheard-of pride towards the other colonists.
To these accusations the Paulistas have given the most complete denial.
The province of St. Paul, peopled by them alone, is now the most civilised, the most industrious, and the richest in Brazil.
I urged my journey as much as possible, the rather because my guide had informed me that the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro, where don Zeno Cabral had given me a rendezvous, was situated on the frontier of the province of St. Paul, of which it was one of the richest and most vast achievements.
In order the more quickly to reach the end of our long journey, my guide, notwithstanding the difficulties of the way, had led us along the inundated banks of the Rio Uruguai.
On the fourth day after our departure from the rancho, we reached the Aldea of Santa Anna, the first Brazilian station in ascending the river.
The excessive rise of the river had caused terrible ravages in this miserable village, composed of scarcely a dozen ranchos. Several had been carried away by the waters, the remainder were threatened with speedy inundation; the poor inhabitants, reduced to the most frightful distress, were camped on a little hill, awaiting the withdrawal of the waters.
Nevertheless, these poor people, spite of their misery, received us in the most hospitable way, placing at our disposal everything they could furnish us with.
It was with an unspeakable pang of the heart and profound gratitude that on the next day at sunrise I left these good people, who overwhelmed us at our departure with wishes for the success of our journey.
I continued to advance through a charming and varied landscape. Three days after my halt at Santa Anna, about two o'clock in the afternoon, at an angle of the route, I suddenly turned my head, and in spite of myself I stopped, uttering a cry of admiration at the unexpected sight of the most delicious country I had ever contemplated.
My Guaranis smiled with joy. It was to him that I owed this splendid surprise, which he had been preparing for me for some hours by inducing me to take, under pretext of shortening the journey, concealed paths through almost impenetrable woods.
Before me, almost at my feet, for I had stopped on the summit of an elevated hill, extended—enclosed in a horizon of verdure, formed by a belt of virgin forest—a landscape of about ten leagues in circumference, of which, thanks to my position, my eye took in the minutest details. About the centre of this landscape, over an extent of two leagues, was a lake, the transparent waters of which were an emerald green in colour—the wooded and beautiful picturesque mountains which surrounded it were covered in some places with plantations.
We were on the spot where the Curitiba or Guazu, a rather important river, an affluent of the Parana, that we had reached, after having traversed the Paso de los Infieles, enters the lake.
At the entry of the Guazu I perceived an isle which my guide assured me had formerly floated, but which had by degrees approached the bank, where it had become fixed. At first formed by aquatic plants, the vegetable earth had been heaped up there, and now it is covered with pretty thick wood. Then, in the distance, in the midst of a ravine between two hills covered with wood, I perceived a considerable number of buildings raised like an amphitheatre, and surmounted by a tall steeple.
Below the rugged steep, on the summit of which these buildings were situated, the Guazu rushed along, struggling over the obstacles that abrupt rocks, covered with a verdant lichen, opposed to its course; then, dividing into several arms, it lost itself, after innumerable meanderings, in the sombre valleys which stretched right and left. I could not take my eyes from the spectacle of nature in this grand, wild, and really imposing form. I remained there as though fascinated, not caring either to advance or recede, so great was the emotion that I experienced, and, forgetting everything, still looking without being satiated at this splendid view, to which nothing can be compared.
"How beautiful!" I cried.
"Is it not?" replied the guide.
"What is this magnificent country called?"
"Do you not know, mi amo?" said the Indian.
"How should I know, when I come here today for the first time?"
"Why, because this country is well known, mi amo," replied he; "people come from long distances to see it."
"I doubt it not, but I should like to know its name."
"You see before you the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro; in former days all these mountains that you see were filled with gold and precious stones."
"And now?" I asked, interested in spite of myself.
"Oh, now they do not work the mines; they are exhausted or inundated with water. The master pretends that it is much better to work the earth."
"He is not wrong. What is the name of the good man who reasons so judiciously?"
"I do not know, mi amo; they pretend that the fazenda, and all the lands appertaining to it, belong to don Zeno Cabral, but I should not dare to assert it; but, for that matter, it would not astonish me, for singular things are related as to what passes in the caldeiras that you see down there," added he, pointing with his finger to three round holes in the form of a funnel, pierced in the rocks.
"What do they relate, then, that is so extraordinary?"
"Oh, frightful things, mi amo, and things which I, a poor Indian, should never dare to repeat."
It was in vain I pressed my guide to explain himself; I could only draw from him ejaculations of fright, accompanied by innumerable signs of the cross. Wearied of doing so, I gave up asking any farther about a subject which appeared to displease him so much.
"In what time will we arrive at the fazenda?" I asked.
"In four hours, mi amo."
"Do you think that don Zeno will already have arrived, and that we shall meet him?"
"Who knows, mi amo? If the señor don Zeno wishes to have arrived there, he will be there."
Beaten on this point as on the first, I finally gave up asking my guide questions, to which, according to his pleasure, he made such ridiculous answers, and I confined myself to giving him the order to proceed.
By degrees, as we ascended the valley, the landscape changed, and assumed aspects of a striking character. I thus traversed, without perceiving it, the pretty considerable space which separated me from the fazenda.
At the moment when we began to ascend a rather wide and well-kept path that conducted to the first buildings, I perceived a horseman who was galloping towards me at full speed.
My guide touched me lightly on the arm with a quiver of fear.
"Do you not recognise him? It is the seigneur don Zeno Cabral."
"Impossible!" I cried.
The Indian shook his head several times.
"Nothing is impossible to señor Zeno," murmured he, in an undertone.
I looked more attentively; I recognised, indeed, don Zeno Cabral, my old companion of the pampa. He wore the same costume as at our first meeting.
In a minute he was near me.
"Welcome to the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro," said he to me joyfully, holding out his right hand, which I grasped cordially; "have you had a good journey?"
"Excellent, I thank you, although very fatiguing. But," added I, noticing a slight smile on his lips, "although I do not yet rank myself with a traveller of your calibre, I begin to be perfectly accustomed to it; moreover, the aspect of your beautiful country has completely made me forget my fatigue."
"Is it not beautiful?" said he with pride; "And does it not merit to be seen and appreciated?"
"Certainly."
"You have been satisfied with this bribón, I suppose," said he, turning towards the guide, who kept himself modestly and timidly in the background.
"Quite satisfied; he has completely redeemed his fault."
"I knew it already, but I am happy to hear you say so, that puts me on good terms with him."
"Go on ahead, pícaro, and announce our arrival."
The Indian did not wait for a repetition of the order.
"These Indians are singular characters," said don Zeno, looking after him "you can only subdue them by threatening them with harshness; but, on the whole, they are not bad."
"You except without doubt," I answered, smiling, "those who wished to do you so bad a turn when I had the pleasure of meeting you."
"Why should I do that? The poor devils acted with good intentions, from the point of view produced by their narrow ideas."
"Do you not fear to become one day the victim of their perfidy?"
"It will be as it shall please God; as to me, I shall accomplish the mission that I have imposed upon myself; but never mind that, you will remain some time with us, will you not, Don Gustavio?"
"Two or three days only," I answered.
"You are in a great hurry," said my host.
"By no means; I am absolutely master of my time."
"Then, why do you wish to leave us so quickly?"
"Why," I replied, not knowing exactly what to say, "I am afraid of discommoding you."
"Don Gustavio," said don Zeno Cabral, "abandon once for all those European fashions, which are out of place here; you cannot discommode a man like me, whose fortune amounts to millions of piastres, who is master, under God, of a territory of more than thirty square leagues, and who commands more than two thousand white, red, and black people. In accepting frankly the hospitality that such a man freely offers you, as to a friend and a brother, you do him honour."
"Upon my word," I answered, "my dear host, you have a style of doing things which makes a refusal absolutely impossible, so do with me as you like."
"Well and good, that's speaking plainly, without circumlocution or reticence. But make yourself easy; perhaps even if your vagabond notions still possess your heart, I shall make, some days hence, a proposition which will make you smile."
"What?" I eagerly exclaimed.
"I will tell you, but hush! Here we are arrived."
Five minutes later, indeed, we entered the fazenda, between a double row of servants.
I shall not dilate on the style in which hospitality was offered me in this truly princely abode.
Some days passed, during which my host endeavoured in every way to amuse me.
However, notwithstanding all his efforts to appear cheerful, I remarked that something weighed on his mind. I did not dare to ask him about it, fearing to appear impertinent, but I waited with impatience till he afforded me an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, by asking him some questions which I had continually on my lips, and which I with great difficulty repressed.
At last, one evening, he entered my room. A servant, who accompanied him, carried several bundles of papers.
After telling the servant to put these papers on the table, and sending him away, don Zeno seated himself near me, and after a moment of reflection—
"Don Gustavio," said he, "I have spoken of an expedition in which I thought of having your company."
"Just so," I answered, "and I am ready to follow you, Don Zeno."
"Thank you, my friend; but before accepting your consent, let me give you some words of explanation."
"Do so."
"The expedition in question is one of a most serious character; it is directed towards well-known countries, which have been rarely, and at long intervals, trodden by the foot of the white man. We shall have nearly insurmountable obstacles to overcome—terrible dangers to run. Notwithstanding the precautions I have taken to secure our safety, I must tell you that we risk death in the midst of hordes of savages. As to me, my sacrifice is made."
"And are you going?"
"Yes, I am going, for I have the most important reasons for doing so; but as to you, your position is not the same, and I do not see what right I have to take you with me in a desperate venture."
"I shall go with you, Don Zeno, come what may; my decision is taken, my resolution will not change."
"Well," he said, in an agitated voice, "I shall not argue anymore. Several times we have spoken between ourselves about the Paulistas; you have asked me for information about them; that information you will find in these notes that I leave you. Read them attentively, they will make you acquainted with the motives for the expedition that I now undertake."
It is these notes, placed in order by me, followed by an account of the expedition in which I took part, that the reader is now about to peruse. I have only taken the precaution to change certain names and dates, in order not to wound the just susceptibility of persons still living, and worthy, according to all report, of the estimation in which they are held in Brazil.
On the 25th of June, 1790, about seven o'clock in the evening, a rather numerous troop of horsemen suddenly emerged from a narrow ravine, and began to ascend a steep path on the flank of a mountain forming the extreme limit of the Sierra di Ibetucata, situated in the province of São Paolo.
These horsemen, having traversed the Rio Paranapanema, prepared no doubt to cross the Rio Tietê, if, as the direction which they followed appeared to indicate, they were going to the territory of Minas Gerais.
For the most part well dressed, they wore the picturesque costume of sertanejos, and were armed with sabres, pistols, knives, and carbines. Their laços, rolled up, were hanging, attached by rings, to the right sides of their saddles.
We shall observe that the bolas—that terrible arm of the gaucho of the pampas in the Banda Oriental—is completely unused in the interior of Brazil.
These men, with their bronzed complexions, haughty bearing, boldly seated on their horses, their hands resting on their weapons, ready to make use of them, and their eyes constantly fixed on the underwood and the thickets in order to discover the route, and to guard against ambuscades, offered in the oblique and mild rays of the setting sun, in the midst of that majestic scene, a striking resemblance to those troops of Paulista adventurers who in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, appeared led by the finger of God to undertake bold expeditions, which were to give new countries to the mother city, and to finish by confining to their impenetrable forests the warlike and unsubdued tribes of the first inhabitants of the soil.
The horsemen of whom we are speaking were thirty in number, reckoning the servants charged with the mules loaded with baggage, and who, in case of attack, were to join their companions in the general defence, and were armed with fusils and sabres.
At some distance behind this first troop came a second, composed of a dozen horsemen, in the midst of whom was a palanquin closely shut, carried by two mules.
These two troops evidently obeyed the same chief, for when the first had arrived at the summit of the mountain, it stopped, and a horseman was sent to hasten the arrival of the second.
The men of the second troop affected a certain military air, and wore the costume of the soldados da conquista, which, at the first glance of a person accustomed to Brazilian manners, clearly showed that the chief of the caravan was not only a rich and powerful personage, but that his journey was surrounded by perils.
Notwithstanding the heat of the day, which was then closing, these soldiers sat firmly in their saddles, and carried, without appearing in any way discommoded by it, the strange accoutrement without which they never undertake an expedition—that is to say, the cuirass, named gibao de armas, a kind of greatcoat stuffed with cotton and quilted, which descends almost to the knees, and also covers and protects the arms better than any other armour from the long Indian arrows.
As when they followed the savages into the forests, they were obliged to abandon their horses, upon which they could not penetrate the virgin forests, they had at their side a kind of large blade, called facão, which was of use to them in cutting bamboos to open up a passage; they each had also an espingole, or a fusil without bayonet, which they ordinarily loaded only with large shot, as it was almost impossible to direct a ball with certainty in these inextricable masses of foliage, rendered thicker still by the strange disposition of the branches, and the entanglement of the bamboos.
These soldiers are much feared by the Indians and the runaway Negroes, whom they have a special mission to track and surprise.
They are much esteemed in the country on account of their courage, their sobriety, and their fidelity, whenever put to the test; thus the presence of a dozen of them in the caravan was a certain indication of the high position which the chief of the expedition occupied in Brazilian society.
The caravan stopped, as we have said, at the summit of the mountain. From that elevation there was a view spread before them, to a considerable distance, over a landscape of forests, of varied valleys, traversed by innumerable streams; but not a house, not a hut, was visible to animate this splendid and wild scene.
The travellers, little affected by the attractions of the magic panorama which was spread out before them, and moreover fatigued by a long journey through almost impracticable paths, while a torrid sun profusely poured its burning rays on their heads, hastened to instal themselves in their camp for the night.
Whilst some amongst them unloaded the mules and heaped up the baggage, others erected a tent in the midst of this improvised camp; the strongest made a heap of trees as a provisional intrenchment, and some others lit the fires intended for the cooking of the evening meal—fires which were to be kept up all night in order to keep off wild beasts.
When the camp was completely made, a horseman of haughty bearing, about twenty-eight or thirty years at the most, whose aristocratic manner, bold look and short manner of speaking, denoted the habit of command, gave the order for the palanquin, which up to that moment had remained at some little distance, surrounded by its escort, to approach.
The palanquin immediately advanced as far as the tent, and was opened. The curtain of the tent moved, and then fell back, without it being possible to know of what sex was the person whom the palanquin had enclosed, and who had just quitted it. The palanquin was immediately borne away. The soldier who had probably previously received strict injunctions, surrounded at a pistol shot the tent, to which they would allow no one to approach.
The chief of the caravan, after having assisted at the execution of the order he had given, withdrew under a somewhat smaller tent, erected at some paces from the first, and throwing himself on a seat, was soon absorbed in profound reflections.
This horseman, as we have said, was a man of twenty-eight or thirty years of age, with delicate and aristocratic features, of almost feminine beauty and delicacy. His countenance, gentle and affable at the first aspect, lost this appearance as soon as it was studied with care, to assume an expression of mocking and cruel wickedness, which inspired fear and almost repulsion; his large black eyes had a vague look which was rarely fixed, his mouth furnished with brilliant white teeth, surmounted by a fine black moustache, oiled with care, only half-opened to allow an ironic smile to escape from his lips, slightly raising their corners. Such as he was, however, to superficial eyes, he was an admirable horseman, full of nobility, and of a seductive bearing.
He had scarcely been twenty minutes alone under his tent, when the curtain of the tent was removed gently to give passage to a man who, after having assured himself by looking around, that the horseman of whom we have just given a sketch was quite alone, took two steps into the interior, and removed his hat respectfully.
This person formed to the first the most complete and the rudest contrast; he was still young, with muscular form and angular features—a base, mean, and cruel physiognomy, impressed with an expression of sullen wickedness; his forehead low and depressed, his eyes grey, round, deeply sunken, and considerably removed from each other, his nose long and hooked, his high cheekbones, his large mouth with flat lips, gave him a distant resemblance to a bird of prey of the least noble kind. His monstrous head, supported by a thick and short neck, was buried between two shoulders of great breadth, his awkward arms covered with enormous muscles, gave him the appearance of possessing extraordinary brutal force, the general aspect of which had something repulsive in it. This individual, whom it was easy at once to recognise as a mameluco [1] hybrid, wore the costume of the sertanejos.
Several minutes passed before the young man recognised the man who was standing before him.
"Ah, 'tis you, Malco Diaz," said he.
"Yes, Monsieur le marquis, it is me," answered the mameluco[1], in a low and half-stifled voice.
"Well, what do you want with me, now?"
"Well," said the other with a chill sneer, "the reception that your lordship gives me is scarcely endearing; it is two days since I have spoken to you."
"I have no reason, I suppose, to trouble myself with you. What is the use of my putting myself out? Are you not in my pay, and consequently my servant?" replied the marquis, with a haughty frown.
"It is true," answered the other, "a servant is a dog, and ought to be treated as such; however, you know the proverb, 'A bom jogo bo a volta.'"[2]
"Spare me your stupid proverbs. I beg and tell me, without more circumlocution, what brings you here?" answered the young man with impatience.
"Well, the business is, your lordship, that I engaged myself to you for two months at Rio Janeiro, in order to serve you as a guide, for four Spanish ounces per month, or, if you prefer it, 106,000 reis.[3]Is it not true, your lordship?"
"Perfectly; only you forget that you received before leaving Rio Janeiro—"
"One month in advance," interrupted the mameluco; "on the contrary, I remember it very well."
"What do you want, then?"
"I want the remainder for a simple reason, your lordship; because, our bargain expiring at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, I prefer to settle with you this evening, rather than cause you any trouble during the march."
"What, is it so long since we began the journey?"
"Calculate, your lordship."
"Just so, quite as long," replied he, pensively.
There was a long silence.
"So you wish to quit me, Malco Diaz," said the young man abruptly, in a more friendly tone than that which he had employed just before.
"Has not my engagement terminated, your lordship?"
"Just so; but you can renew it."
The mameluco hesitated; his master did not take his eye off him.
"Will your lordship allow me to speak frankly?"
"Speak."
"Well, you are a great lord, a marquis, it is true; as for me, I am but a poor devil, compared with you, very little and of no account. However, miserable as you suppose me, there is something invaluable in my estimation."
"And that is—"
"My liberty, your lordship; my independence, the right of going and of coming, without rendering anyone an account of my proceedings. I humbly submit that I am not born to be a servant."
"Have you said all?"
"Yes, all, your lordship."
"But you are not a servant, only a guide."
"That is true, your lordship; but often, spite of yourself, you forget the guide, to think only of the servant; and as to me, I cannot get used to be treated in that fashion. My pride revolts in spite of myself."
A scornful smile played upon the lips of the young man.
"So," answered he, "the motive that you give me is the only one that induces you to leave me?"
"It is the only one, your lordship."
"But if, quite satisfied with your service, I propose to you five quadruplet instead of four, you would accept it without doubt."
"Pardon me, your lordship," said he, "I should refuse."
"Even if I offered you six?"
"Even if you offered me ten."
"Ah!" said the marquis, biting his lip; "When do you intend to leave us?"
"When your lordship will permit me."
"But if I insisted that you should remain with us until tomorrow at ten o'clock?"
"I should remain, my lord."
"Good," said the young man in a tone of indifference, "I see that your mind is made up."
"Oh, decidedly, my lord."
"I am going now to pay the remainder that I owe you; you shall then be free to go away immediately."
The young man drew several pieces of gold from a purse, and presented them to the mongrel.
"Take it," said he.
Malco held out his hand, but soon thinking better of it—
"Pardon, my lord," said he, "you are making a mistake."
"I? How is that?"
"Why, you only owe me four ounces, I believe."
"Well?"
"You are giving me eight."
"I give you four ounces because I owe them to you, and I add four others, because, before parting with you, I wish to give a proof of my satisfaction of the manner in which you have done your duty."
A second time the mameluco hesitated, but exercising great control over himself, and stepping back, as if to wish to escape the fascination exercised over him by the sight of the metal, he placed, although with an evident repugnance, four of the pieces of gold on a chest, answering with a voice stifled with emotion—
"I am very grateful to you, my lord, but I cannot accept so rich a present."
"Why not, if it pleases me to make it, Malco? Am I not the master, to dispose of what belongs to me?"
"Yes, my lord, you are free to do that; but I repeat that I shall not accept the money."
"At least you will give me an explanation of this enigma, for if I do not deceive myself, you love gold."
"Yes, my lord, when it is honourably gained, but I am not a beggar to accept a remuneration to which I consider I have no right."
"These sentiments do you honour," answered the young man, with a biting raillery.
He then took the four pieces of gold, chinked them in his hand, and then put them again into his purse.
"Now we are quits."
And with a gesture, he ordered the mameluco to withdraw. The latter, very ill at ease under the searching look of the marquis, did not wait for the suggestion to be repeated. He bowed awkwardly, and left the tent.
He then proceeded to his horse, which he had attached some paces off to a stake, threw himself in the saddle, and went off with a pensive air, descending the mountain at a gentle trot in the direction of the Sertão, at the entry of which the caravan had established its bivouac.
When he had gone sufficiently far not to fear being seen, he broke off abruptly to the right, and returned.
"Devil of a man," murmured he, in a low voice, attentively surveying the shrubs and thickets for fear of surprise; "it is evident that he suspects something; I have not a moment to lose; for—I know him. If I permit myself to hesitate, I am a lost man; but if I don't hesitate, the affair is too good for me not to devote all my efforts to bring it to a good conclusion. We shall see who will gain the day."
Then vigorously putting spurs to his horse, the mameluco pressed into a gallop, and was not long disappearing into the darkness; for, during his conversation with his former master, the night had fallen.
Meanwhile, as soon as the mameluco had quitted the tent, the marquis rose with a gesture of rage and of menace, but almost immediately reseating himself—
"No," said he, in a sullen voice, "let us give him time to get away; we will let him have complete security; the traitor does not think me so well informed. Oh, I will revenge myself cruelly for the constraint I imposed upon myself before him."
He rose again, withdrew the curtain of the tent, and looked out; the greatest tranquillity, the most complete calm, reigned in the camp. The marquis then called twice, in a moderately loud voice—
"Diogo! Diogo!"
At the call, which he appeared to expect, a man approached almost immediately.
"Here I am," said he.
"Come in directly," resumed the marquis.
This man was the chief of the soldados da conquista. He entered.
[1]This name is given to the mongrels born of a white man and Indian woman, orvice versa.
[1]This name is given to the mongrels born of a white man and Indian woman, orvice versa.
[2]One good turn deserves another.
[2]One good turn deserves another.
[3]The reis is a fictitious coin. This formidable sum is worth about 340 francs only, in French money.
[3]The reis is a fictitious coin. This formidable sum is worth about 340 francs only, in French money.
Of all the Indians of the new world the aborigines of Brazil are those who have defended their independence the most obstinately, and fought with the greatest fury against the invasion of their territory by the whites. At the present day this war, commenced in the early days of the conquest, is continued implacably on both sides, without any other result of it being perceptible, than the entire destruction of the unfortunate race so deplorably spoliated by Europeans.
By degrees, as we advance in our recital, we shall give more circumstantial details on the singular and extravagant customs of the Brazilian natives—customs of which little is known in Europe. They are all the more interesting, as at an early day they will no longer exist but in legend, by reason of the incessant progress of civilisation, which will effect the complete extinction of the aboriginal race, the same as in all the other countries of the new world.
At about ten leagues from the plateau, where the caravan of which we have spoken had camped for the night, the same day, a little before sunset, in a vast glade situated on the left bank of the Rio Paraguai, at the entrance of a considerable cotinga, or low forest, three men, seated on the trunks of dead trees lying on the earth, were holding a very animated conversation.
These persons, although Indians, belonged to tribes completely distinct.
The first, as far as could be discovered—for the age of the Indian is extremely difficult to determine—was a man who appeared to have attained middle age—that is to say, from thirty-five to forty. His tall and well-proportioned figure his vigorous and well-set limbs, displayed great strength; his regular features would have been beautiful, had they not been disfigured by strange painting and tattooing. But, on examining him with care, there was seen to flash in his eyes a cunning which denoted a rather uncommon intelligence. The nobility of his gestures, and his bold and haughty countenance, gave to his entire person a stamp of wild grandeur.
The costume of this Indian, although very simple, was not wanting either in grace or elegance; the bright red band in which were stuck some parrot feathers, and which encircled his head, the hair of which was shaved like that of the Franciscans, proclaimed not only his Guaycurus nationality, but also his position as a chief. A necklace of jaguar teeth encircled his neck; a poncho of gaudy colours was thrown over his shoulders; his large leather drawers reaching to the knee, were fastened at the hips by a girdle of tapir skin, in which was stuck a long knife; his legs were protected against the bite of serpents by boots made with the leather from the forelegs of a horse, cut away in a single piece while still warm, and made into a kind of sheath, so that the leather in drying had taken the form of the limbs it was intended to preserve.
Besides the knife hanging from his girdle, the Guaycurus chief had placed on the ground near him a quiver of tapir skin, four feet long, and filled with arrows. A polished and glittering bow of palo d'arco of uncommon strength and size was lying near the quiver, and within reach of his hand; leaning against the palm tree was an enormous lance, at least fifteen feet long, and furnished with a sharp blade, and garnished at the other extremity with a tuft of ostrich feathers.
The second Indian was about the same age as his companion; his features, notwithstanding the paint and tattooing which disfigured them, were handsome, and his countenance possessed great flexibility. He was dressed and armed like the first; only by the headdress, made with the fibrous and elastic cocoon of the flower of the ubassa palm tree, it was easy to recognise him as a Payagoas chief, a nation nearly as powerful as that of the Guaycurus.
The last Indian was a poor devil, half-naked, lean, and of a timid and sickly appearance—to all appearance a slave. He stationed himself out of hearing of the two chiefs whose horses he was charged to watch. These horses, painted like their masters, of different colours, had no harness, but a thick coarse saddle, furnished with wooden stirrups, covered with tapir skin, and to the right and left of which hung a lasso and the formidable bolas.
At the moment when we place these three persons on the scene, the Guaycurus chief was speaking, smoking all the while a kind of calumet, made of the leaves of the palm tree, rolled together, and was listened to deferentially by the other chief, who was standing up before him, carelessly supported by his long lance.
"The man that my brother Emavidi-Chaime told me of does not come," said he. "The sun descends rapidly, several hours have flown since I waited. What thinks the chief of the Payagoas?"
"He must wait still; the man will come; he has promised; although degenerate, he is not a paleface. He has in his veins some of the blood of the Tapis."
"What is the name of this man?" asked the other.
"Does Tarou Niom know him? He is a mameluco; his name is Malco Diaz."
"I have seen him," laconically said the chief, letting his head fall with a pensive air on his breast.
There was a silence of some instants; it was the Guaycurus who broke it.
"Has my brother ever seen," he said, "the jaguars make war upon each other?"
"Never," replied the Payagoas chief.
"Then why does the chief believe in the faith of this man? The Indian blood, if he has some drops of it, is so mingled in his veins with that of the whites and blacks, that it has lost all its vigour."
"My brother speaks well, his words are just; only it is not on the good faith of this mameluco that I reckon."
"On what then?" asked Tarou Niom.
"On his hatred first, and then—"
"Then?"
"On his avarice."
"Yes," replied the Guaycurus chief, "it is to these two feelings only that we must trust when we wish to ally ourselves with these faithless dogs; but this mameluco, is he not a Paulista?"
"No; on the contrary, he is a sertanejo."
"The whites are always bad. What guarantee has this Malco given?"
"The best that I can desire; his son, whom he charged with bringing me the message, has come into my village with two black slaves. One has gone away again, but the other remains with the child."
"Good!" answered Tarou Niom, "I acknowledge in this the prudence of my brother Emavidi-Chaime; if the father is a traitor, the child shall die."
"He shall die!"
Silence reigned again for a considerable time between the companions.
The sun had completely disappeared, shadows covered the earth, darkness, as with a funeral pall, enveloped the forest in which these two men were. Already in the inexplorable depths of the desert low growlings began to reverberate, and announced the waking of the dread wanderers of the night.
The slave, who was an Indian mundracus, on the order of his master, Tarou Niom, the captain of the Guaycurus—for the Indians of this nation have adopted the Portuguese titles—gathered some dry wood, formed a pile of it between the two chiefs, and set fire to it, so that its light might keep off the wild beasts.
"It is very late," said the Guaycurus.
"The journey to come here is long," laconically answered the Payagoas.
"Has the mameluco explained for what reason he wished the meeting of his warriors and mine?"
"No. Malco is prudent; a slave might betray the confidence of his master, and sell his secret to an enemy. The mameluco reserves it to inform us himself of the affair he wishes to propose to us."
"Good!" answered the chief. "What matters this man to me? I have only come on the invitation of my brother. I know that he will not betray me."
"I thank my brother, Tarou Niom, for his opinion of me; for a long time I have been devoted to him."
At this moment a far-off noise was heard—slight, and almost inappreciable at first, but which approached rapidly.
The two Indians listened for some seconds, and then exchanged a smile.
"It is the gallop of a horse," said Tarou Niom.
"In a few minutes he will be here."
The chiefs were not deceived—it was, in fact, the furious gallop of a horse. Soon the branches snapped, the shrubbery separated under the powerful effort the chest of a horse, galloping at full speed, and a horseman bounded into the glade.
Arrived within a few paces of the warriors, he suddenly pulled up his horse, leaped to the ground, and gave the bridle to the slave, who took it and conducted the noble animal to the two others.
The horseman, who was no other than the mameluco, saluted the Indians and seated himself in front of them.
"My friend has tarried long," said the Payagoas.
"It is true, Captain," answered Malco, wiping his forehead, which was covered with perspiration; "I ought to have been here long before, but that was impossible. My master camped in a place farther off than I reckoned on, and notwithstanding my wish to be exact, it was impossible for me to come sooner."
"Good, that is nothing, since here is the sertanejo; some hours lost are nothing, if the affair you wish to propose to us is good."
"Good I believe it to be; but are you still resolved to break the truce that seven moons ago you concluded with the whites?"
"What is that to the sertanejo?" drily answered the Guaycurus.
"I want to know before explaining to you what brings me here."
"Let the warrior speak, and the captains will hear him; they will judge of the truth of his words."
"Very well; this is why I wish to ask you the question. I know the honour that you carry into all your transactions—even with the whites. If you consent, as I know for some days they have begged you, to prolong the truce, I should have nothing to propose to you, for the simple reason that you would refuse to give me your assistance against the people with whom you would be at peace. You see I speak to you frankly."
These words, which manifested the respect of the Indians for their pledged faith, and for the honesty which they import into their relations with their mortal enemies, were, notwithstanding the praise they implied, listened to coldly.
"Two suns have already passed," proudly answered the Guaycurus, "since I notified to the Paulistas the rupture of the truce."
Malco Diaz, master as he was of himself, could not suppress a gesture of satisfaction at this declaration.
"So you have recommenced the war," said he.
"Yes," briefly answered the Indian.
"Then all is well," said the half-caste.
"I am waiting," said the Guaycurus.
"The night advances; the sertanejo has not come so quickly to the rendezvous that he himself made, that he may speak of futile things to the powerful captains," added the Payagoas.
Malco Diaz appeared to be collecting his thoughts for some minutes; then he resumed:
"Can I reckon on my brothers?" said he, casting at the Indians the look of a viper.
"We are warriors; let the mameluco explain himself. If he wishes to gain some advantage by the war that is recommencing, we will serve him by serving ourselves," answered Tarou Niom.
The half-caste knew the Indians too well not to understand the ironical meaning of the words pronounced by the Guaycurus chief. However, he made no sign of having perceived that meaning.
"I direct you to a numerous caravan; so much the more easy to surprise as not having the least mistrust, and believing that the truce still exists, it is on the march almost without any guard."
"Ah," said the two Indians.
"Yes," resumed Malco; "I am moreover so much the more certain of what I advance, as, for two moons—that is to say, from the day when this caravan left Rio de Janeiro—I have served as guide."
"Good, so doubt is not possible," said the Guaycurus.
"In no respect."
"And towards what part is this caravan going?"
"They do not intend to stop until they come to the Rio San Lourenço."
"Are these men Paulistas?" asked Tarou Niom.
"No," briefly answered the half-caste.
The two chiefs exchanged a look.
"But," resumed Malco Diaz, "although they may not be Paulistas, they are your enemies."
"Perhaps," said the Payagoas.
"Is he a friend who enters into a country to seize upon the riches it contains without the authority of the true masters of that country?"
"Is such the thought of the chief of this caravan?" asked Tarou Niom.
"Not only his thought, but his design."
"Very well; but what are the riches which these men intend to seize?"
"The gold and the diamonds which are in the country."
"They know, then, that there are some?"
The half-caste smiled with sarcasm.
"Not only they know it," said he, "but also they know so well all the bearings of the country, that they can go there without a guide."
"Ah!" said the Indians, fixing upon him a scrutinising look.
"It is so," said he without being disconcerted.
"And who, then, has so well informed them about the riches of our country?" asked the Guaycurus.
"I," coolly answered Malco.
"You!" cried Tarou Niom, "Then you are a traitor."
The mameluco shrugged his shoulders.
"A traitor!" said he, with irony; "Am I then one of your people; do I belong to your nation; have you confided this secret, forbidding me to reveal it?"
"But, then, if you have sold your secret to these men, why do you now denounce them to us?"
"That is my affair, and concerns me only; as to you, see if it will suit you to allow strangers to penetrate into your country."
"Listen," said Tarou Niom severely; "you are just the man that your colour shows you; that is to say, a faithless white man. You sell your brethren. What price do you demand? Answer, and be brief."
The half-caste lifted his eyes at this rude apostrophe; then immediately collecting himself—
"A very little matter," said he, "the right of taking prisoner whomsoever may suit me, and to choose him without any obstacle being offered me."
"Very well, it shall be so."
"Then you accept?"
"Certainly, only, as according to your admission these people are not aware of the rupture of the truce, and as it would not be honourable to attack them unawares, we will warn them to be on their guard."
A flash of fury darted from the eyes of the half-caste.
"And if after that warning they were to renounce their project?" asked he.
"Then they would be sure to withdraw without fear of being disturbed in their retreat," drily answered the Guaycurus.
Malco Diaz made a gesture of fury, but after a moment a smile of raillery played upon his lips.