Kabanata Kabanata 5 · THE AMAZON
up to
Para, was soon considerably extended under the impulse of Joam Garral.
The fazenda began to grow in proportion, and to spread out along the
bank of the river up to its junction with the Nanay. A delightful
residence was made of the house; it was raised a story, surrounded by a
veranda, and half hidden under beautiful trees--mimosas, fig-sycamores,
bauhinias, and paullinias, whose trunks were invisible beneath a network
of scarlet-flowered bromelias and passion-flowers.
At a distance, behind huge bushes and a dense mass of arborescent
plants, were concealed the buildings in which the staff of the fazenda
were accommodated--the servants’ offices, the cabins of the blacks, and
the huts of the Indians. From the bank of the river, bordered with reeds
and aquatic plants, the tree-encircled house was alone visible.
A vast meadow, laboriously cleared along the lagoons, offered excellent
pasturage. Cattle abounded--a new source of profit in these fertile
countries, where a herd doubles in four years, and where ten per cent.
interest is earned by nothing more than the skins and the hides of
the animals killed for the consumption of those who raise them! A few
_“sitios,”_ or manioc and coffee plantations, were started in parts of
the woods which were cleared. Fields of sugar-canes soon required the
construction of a mill to crush the sacchariferous stalks destined to be
used hereafter in the manufacture of molasses, tafia, and rum. In short,
ten years after the arrival of Joam Garral at the farm at Iquitos
the fazenda had become one of the richest establishments on the Upper
Amazon. Thanks to the good management exercised by the young clerk
over the works at home and the business abroad, its prosperity daily
increased.
The Portuguese did not wait so long to acknowledge what he owed to Joam
Garral. In order to recompense him in proportion to his merits he had
from the first given him an interest in the profits of his business,
and four years after his arrival he had made him a partner on the same
footing as himself, and with equal shares.
But there was more that he had in store for him. Yaquita, his daughter,
had, in this silent young man, so gentle to others, so stern to himself,
recognized the sterling qualities which her father had done. She was in
love with him, but though on his side Joam had not remained insensible
to the merits and the beauty of this excellent girl, he was too proud
and reserved to dream of asking her to marry him.
A serious incident hastened the solution.
Magalhaës was one day superintending a clearance and was mortally
wounded by the fall of a tree. Carried home helpless to the farm, and
feeling himself lost, he raised up Yaquita, who was weeping by his side,
took her hand, and put it into that of Joam Garral, making him swear to
take her for his wife.
“You have made my fortune,” he said, “and I shall not die in peace
unless by this union I know that the fortune of my daughter is assured.”
“I can continue her devoted servant, her brother, her protector, without
being her husband,” Joam Garral had at first replied. “I owe you all,
Magalhaës. I will never forget it, but the price you would pay for my
endeavors is out of all proportion to what they are worth.”
The old man insisted. Death would not allow him to wait; he demanded the
promise, and it was made to him.
Yaquita was then twenty-two years old, Joam was twenty-six. They
loved each other and they were married some hours before the death of
Magalhaës, who had just strength left to bless their union.
It was under these circumstances that in 1830 Joam Garral became the
new fazender of Iquitos, to the immense satisfaction of all those who
composed the staff of the farm.
The prosperity of the settlement could not do otherwise than grow when
these two minds were thus united.
A year after her marriage Yaquita presented her husband with a son, and,
two years after, a daughter. Benito and Minha, the grandchildren of the
old Portuguese, became worthy of their grandfather, children worthy of
Joam and Yaquita.
The daughter grew to be one of the most charming of girls. She never
left the fazenda. Brought up in pure and healthy surroundings, in the
midst of the beauteous nature of the tropics, the education given to her
by her mother, and the instruction received by her from her father, were
ample. What more could she have learned in a convent at Manaos or Belem?
Where would she have found better examples of the domestic virtues?
Would her mind and feelings have been more delicately formed away from
her home? If it was ordained that she was not to succeed her mother in
the management of the fazenda, she was equal to any other position to
which she might be called.
With Benito it was another thing. His father very wisely wished him to
receive as solid and complete an education as could then be obtained
in the large towns of Brazil. There was nothing which the rich fazender
refused his son. Benito was possessed of a cheerful disposition, an
active mind, a lively intelligence, and qualities of heart equal to
those of his head. At the age of twelve he was sent into Para, to Belem,
and there, under the direction of excellent professors, he acquired
the elements of an education which could not but eventually make him a
distinguished man. Nothing in literature, in the sciences, in the arts,
was a stranger to him. He studied as if the fortune of his father would
not allow him to remain idle. He was not among such as imagine that
riches exempt men from work--he was one of those noble characters,
resolute and just, who believe that nothing should diminish our natural
obligation in this respect if we wish to be worthy of the name of men.
During the first years of his residence at Belem, Benito had made the
acquaintance of Manoel Valdez. This young man, the son of a merchant in
Para, was pursuing his studies in the same institution as Benito. The
conformity of their characters and their tastes proved no barrier to
their uniting in the closest of friendships, and they became inseparable
companions.
Manoel, born in 1832, was one year older than Benito. He had only a
mother, and she lived on the modest fortune which her husband had left
her. When Manoel’s preliminary studies were finished, he had taken
up the subject of medicine. He had a passionate taste for that noble
profession, and his intention was to enter the army, toward which he
felt himself attracted.
At the time that we saw him with his friend Benito, Manoel Valdez had
already obtained his first step, and he had come away on leave for some
months to the fazenda, where he was accustomed to pass his holidays.
Well-built, and of distinguished bearing, with a certain native pride
which became him well, the young man was treated by Joam and Yaquita as
another son. But if this quality of son made him the brother of Benito,
the title was scarcely appreciated by him when Minha was concerned, for
he soon became attached to the young girl by a bond more intimate than
could exist between brother and sister.
In the year 1852--of which four months had already passed before
the commencement of this history--Joam Garral attained the age of
forty-eight years. In that sultry climate, which wears men away so
quickly, he had known how, by sobriety, self-denial, suitable living,
and constant work, to remain untouched where others had prematurely
succumbed. His hair, which he wore short, and his beard, which was
full, had already grown gray, and gave him the look of a Puritan. The
proverbial honesty of the Brazilian merchants and fazenders showed
itself in his features, of which straightforwardness was the leading
characteristic. His calm temperament seemed to indicate an interior
fire, kept well under control. The fearlessness of his look denoted a
deep-rooted strength, to which, when danger threatened, he could never
appeal in vain.
But, notwithstanding one could not help remarking about this quiet man
of vigorous health, with whom all things had succeeded in life, a depth
of sadness which even the tenderness of Yaquita had not been able to
subdue.
Respected by all, placed in all the conditions that would seem necessary
to happiness, why was not this just man more cheerful and less reserved?
Why did he seem to be happy for others and not for himself? Was this
disposition attributable to some secret grief? Herein was a constant
source of anxiety to his wife.
Yaquita was now forty-four. In that tropical country where women are
already old at thirty she had learned the secret of resisting the
climate’s destructive influences, and her features, a little sharpened
but still beautiful, retained the haughty outline of the Portuguese
type, in which nobility of face unites so naturally with dignity of
mind.
Benito and Minha responded with an affection unbounded and unceasing for
the love which their parents bore them.
Benito was now aged twenty-one, and quick, brave, and sympathetic,
contrasted outwardly with his friend Manoel, who was more serious and
reflective. It was a great treat for Benito, after quite a year passed
at Belem, so far from the fazenda, to return with his young friend to
his home to see once more his father, his mother, his sister, and to
find himself, enthusiastic hunter as he was, in the midst of these
superb forests of the Upper Amazon, some of whose secrets remained after
so many centuries still unsolved by man.
Minha was twenty years old. A lovely girl, brunette, and with large blue
eyes, eyes which seemed to open into her very soul; of middle height,
good figure, and winning grace, in every way the very image of Yaquita.
A little more serious than her brother, affable, good-natured, and
charitable, she was beloved by all. On this subject you could fearlessly
interrogate the humblest servants of the fazenda. It was unnecessary to
ask her brother’s friend, Manoel Valdez, what he thought of her. He was
too much interested in the question to have replied without a certain
amount of partiality.
This sketch of the Garral family would not be complete, and would lack
some of its features, were we not to mention the numerous staff of the
fazenda.
In the first place, then, it behooves us to name an old negress, of some
sixty years, called Cybele, free through the will of her master, a slave
through her affection for him and his, and who had been the nurse
of Yaquita. She was one of the family. She thee-ed and thou-ed both
daughter and mother. The whole of this good creature’s life was passed
in these fields, in the middle of these forests, on that bank of the
river which bounded the horizon of the farm. Coming as a child to
Iquitos in the slave-trading times, she had never quitted the village;
she was married there, and early a widow, had lost her only son, and
remained in the service of Magalhaës. Of the Amazon she knew no more
than what flowed before her eyes.
With her, and more specially attached to the service of Minha, was a
pretty, laughing mulatto, of the same age as her mistress, to whom
she was completely devoted. She was called Lina. One of those gentle
creatures, a little spoiled, perhaps, to whom a good deal of familiarity
is allowed, but who in return adore their mistresses. Quick, restless,
coaxing, and lazy, she could do what she pleased in the house.
As for servants they were of two kinds--Indians, of whom there were
about a hundred, employed always for the works of the fazenda, and
blacks to about double the number, who were not yet free, but whose
children were not born slaves. Joam Garral had herein preceded the
Brazilian government. In this country, moreover, the negroes coming
from Benguela, the Congo, or the Gold Coast were always treated with
kindness, and it was not at the fazenda of Iquitos that one would look
for those sad examples of cruelty which were so frequent on foreign
plantations.
CHAPTER 4. HESITATION
Manoel was in love with the sister of his friend Benito, and she was
in love with him. Each was sensible of the other’s worth, and each was
worthy of the other.
When he was no longer able to mistake the state of his feelings toward
Minha, Manoel had opened his heart to Benito.
“Manoel, my friend,” had immediately answered the enthusiastic young
fellow, “you could not do better than wish to marry my sister. Leave
it to me! I will commence by speaking to the mother, and I think I can
promise that you will not have to wait long for her consent.”
Half an hour afterward he had done so.
Benito had nothing to tell his mother which she did not know; Yaquita
had already divined the young people’s secret.
Before ten minutes had elapsed Benito was in the presence of Minha. They
had but to agree; there was no need for much eloquence. At the first
words the head of the gentle girl was laid on her brother’s shoulder,
and the confession, “I am so happy!” was whispered from her heart.
The answer almost came before the question; that was obvious. Benito did
not ask for more.
There could be little doubt as to Joam Garral’s consent. But if Yaquita
and her children did not at once speak to him about the marriage, it was
because they wished at the same time to touch on a question which might
be more difficult to solve. That question was, Where should the wedding
take place?
Where should it be celebrated? In the humble cottage which served for
the village church? Why not? Joam and Yaquita had there received the
nuptial benediction of the Padre Passanha, who was then the curate of
Iquitos parish. At that time, as now, there was no distinction in Brazil
between the civil and religious acts, and the registers of the mission
were sufficient testimony to a ceremony which no officer of the civil
power was intrusted to attend to.
Joam Garral would probably wish the marriage to take place at Iquitos,
with grand ceremonies and the attendance of the whole staff of the
fazenda, but if such was to be his idea he would have to withstand a
vigorous attack concerning it.
“Manoel,” Minha said to her betrothed, “if I was consulted in the matter
we should not be married here, but at Para. Madame Valdez is an invalid;
she cannot visit Iquitos, and I should not like to become her daughter
without knowing and being known by her. My mother agrees with me in
thinking so. We should like to persuade my father to take us to Belem.
Do you not think so?”
To this proposition Manoel had replied by pressing Minha’s hand. He also
had a great wish for his mother to be present at his marriage. Benito
had approved the scheme without hesitation, and it was only necessary to
persuade Joam Garral. And hence on this day the young men had gone out
hunting in the woods, so as to leave Yaquita alone with her husband.
In the afternoon these two were in the large room of the house. Joam
Garral, who had just come in, was half-reclining on a couch of plaited
bamboos, when Yaquita, a little anxious, came and seated herself beside
him.
To tell Joam of the feelings which Manoel entertained toward his
daughter was not what troubled her. The happiness of Minha could not
but be assured by the marriage, and Joam would be glad to welcome to his
arms the new son whose sterling qualities he recognized and appreciated.
But to persuade her husband to leave the fazenda Yaquita felt to be a
very serious matter.
In fact, since Joam Garral, then a young man, had arrived in the
country, he had never left it for a day. Though the sight of the Amazon,
with its waters gently flowing to the east, invited him to follow its
course; though Joam every year sent rafts of wood to Manaos, to Belem,
and the seacoast of Para; though he had seen each year Benito leave
after his holidays to return to his studies, yet the thought seemed
never to have occurred to him to go with him.
The products of the farm, of the forest, and of the fields, the fazender
sold on the spot. He had no wish, either with thought or look, to go
beyond the horizon which bounded his Eden.
From this it followed that for twenty-five years Joam Garral had never
crossed the Brazilian frontier, his wife and daughter had never set
foot on Brazilian soil. The longing to see something of that beautiful
country of which Benito was often talking was not wanting, nevertheless.
Two or three times Yaquita had sounded her husband in the matter. But
she had noticed that the thought of leaving the fazenda, if only for a
few weeks, brought an increase of sadness to his face. His eyes would
close, and in a tone of mild reproach he would answer:
“Why leave our home? Are we not comfortable here?”
And Yaquita, in the presence of the man whose active kindness and
unchangeable tenderness rendered her so happy, had not the courage to
persist.
This time, however, there was a serious reason to make it worth while.
The marriage of Minha afforded an excellent opportunity, it being so
natural for them to accompany her to Belem, where she was going to live
with her husband. She would there see and learn to love the mother
of Manoel Valdez. How could Joam Garral hesitate in the face of so
praiseworthy a desire? Why, on the other hand, did he not participate
in this desire to become acquainted with her who was to be the second
mother of his child?
Yaquita took her husband’s hand, and with that gentle voice which had
been to him all the music of his life:
“Joam,” she said, “I am going to talk to you about something which we
ardently wish, and which will make you as happy as we are.”
“What is it about, Yaquita?” asked Joam.
“Manoel loves your daughter, he is loved by her, and in this union they
will find the happiness----”
At the first words of Yaquita Joam Garral had risen, without being able
to control a sudden start. His eyes were immediately cast down, and he
seemed to designedly avoid the look of his wife.
“What is the matter with you?” asked she.
“Minha? To get married!” murmured Joam.
“My dear,” said Yaquita, feeling somewhat hurt, “have you any objection
to make to the marriage? Have you not for some time noticed the feelings
which Manoel has entertained toward our daughter?”
“Yes; and a year since----”
And Joam sat down without finishing his thoughts. By an effort of his
will he had again become master of himself. The unaccountable impression
which had been made upon him disappeared. Gradually his eyes returned to
meet those of Yaquita, and he remained thoughtfully looking at her.
Yaquita took his hand.
“Joam,” she said, “have I been deceived? Had you no idea that this
marriage would one day take place, and that it would give her every
chance of happiness?”
“Yes,” answered Joam. “All! Certainly. But, Yaquita, this wedding--this
wedding that we are both thinking of--when is it coming off? Shortly?”
“It will come off when you choose, Joam.”
“And it will take place here--at Iquitos?”
This question obliged Yaquita to enter on the other matter which she had
at heart. She did not do so, however, without some hesitation, which was
quite intelligible.
“Joam,” said she, after a moment’s silence, “listen to me. Regarding
this wedding, I have got a proposal which I hope you will approve of.
Two or three times during the last twenty years I have asked you to take
me and my daughter to the provinces of the Lower Amazon, and to Para,
where we have never been. The cares of the fazenda, the works which have
required your presence, have not allowed you to grant our request.
To absent yourself even for a few days would then have injured your
business. But now everything has been successful beyond your dreams, and
if the hour of repose has not yet come for you, you can at least for a
few weeks get away from your work.”
Joam Garral did not answer, but Yaquita felt his hand tremble in hers,
as though under the shock of some sorrowful recollection. At the same
time a half-smile came to her husband’s lips--a mute invitation for her
to finish what she had begun.
“Joam,” she continued, “here is an occasion which we shall never see
again in this life. Minha is going to be married away from us, and is
going to leave us! It is the first sorrow which our daughter has caused
us, and my heart quails when I think of the separation which is so near!
But I should be content if I could accompany her to Belem! Does it
not seem right to you, even in other respects that we should know her
husband’s mother, who is to replace me, and to whom we are about to
entrust her? Added to this, Minha does not wish to grieve Madame Valdez
by getting married at a distance from her. When we were married, Joam,
if your mother had been alive, would you not have liked her to be
present at your wedding?”
At these words of Yaquita Joam made a movement which he could not
repress.
“My dear,” continued Yaquita, “with Minha, with our two sons, Benito and
Manoel, with you, how I should like to see Brazil, and to journey down
this splendid river, even to the provinces on the seacoast through which
it runs! It seems to me that the separation would be so much less cruel!
As we came back we should revisit our daughter in her house with her
second mother. I would not think of her as gone I knew not where. I
would fancy myself much less a stranger to the doings of her life.”
This time Joam had fixed his eyes on his wife and looked at her for some
time without saying anything.
What ailed him? Why this hesitation to grant a request which was so just
in itself--to say “Yes,” when it would give such pleasure to all who
belonged to him? His business affairs could not afford a sufficient
reason. A few weeks of absence would not compromise matters to such a
degree. His manager would be able to take his place without any hitch in
the fazenda. And yet all this time he hesitated.
Yaquita had taken both her husband’s hands in hers, and pressed them
tenderly.
“Joam,” she said, “it is not a mere whim that I am asking you to grant.
No! For a long time I have thought over the proposition I have just
made to you; and if you consent, it will be the realization of my most
cherished desire. Our children know why I am now talking to you. Minha,
Benito, Manoel, all ask this favor, that we should accompany them. We
would all rather have the wedding at Belem than at Iquitos. It will be
better for your daughter, for her establishment, for the position which
she will take at Belem, that she should arrive with her people, and
appear less of a stranger in the town in which she will spend most of
her life.”
Joam Garral leaned on his elbows. For a moment he hid his face in his
hands, like a man who had to collect his thoughts before he made answer.
There was evidently some hesitation which he was anxious to overcome,
even some trouble which his wife felt but could not explain. A secret
battle was being fought under that thoughtful brow. Yaquita got anxious,
and almost reproached herself for raising the question. Anyhow, she was
resigned to what Joam should decide. If the expedition would cost
too much, she would silence her wishes; she would never more speak
of leaving the fazenda, and never ask the reason for the inexplicable
refusal.
Some minutes passed. Joam Garral rose. He went to the door, and did not
return. Then he seemed to give a last look on that glorious nature, on
that corner of the world where for twenty years of his life he had met
with all his happiness.
Then with slow steps he returned to his wife. His face bore a new
expression, that of a man who had taken a last decision, and with whom
irresolution had ceased.
“You are right,” he said, in a firm voice. “The journey is necessary.
When shall we start?”
“Ah! Joam! my Joam!” cried Yaquita, in her joy. “Thank you for me! Thank
you for them!”
And tears of affection came to her eyes as her husband clasped her to
his heart.
At this moment happy voices were heard outside at the door of the house.
Manoel and Benito appeared an instant after at the threshold, almost at
the same moment as Minha entered the room.
“Children! your father consents!” cried Yaquita. “We are going to
Belem!”
With a grave face, and without speaking a word, Joam Garral received the
congratulations of his son and the kisses of his daughter.
“And what date, father,” asked Benito, “have you fixed for the wedding?”
“Date?” answered Joam. “Date? We shall see. We will fix it at Belem.”
“I am so happy! I am so happy!” repeated Minha, as she had done on the
day when she had first known of Manoel’s request. “We shall now see the
Amazon in all its glory throughout its course through the provinces of
Brazil! Thanks, father!”
And the young enthusiast, whose imagination was already stirred,
continued to her brother and to Manoel:
“Let us be off to the library! Let us get hold of every book and every
map that we can find which will tell us anything about this magnificent
river system! Don’t let us travel like blind folks! I want to see
everything and know everything about this king of the rivers of the
earth!”
CHAPTER 5. THE AMAZON
“The largest river in the whole world!” said Benito to Manoel Valdez, on
the morrow.
They were sitting on the bank which formed the southern boundary of the
fazenda, and looking at the liquid molecules passing slowly by, which,
coming from the enormous range of the Andes, were on their road to lose
themselves in the Atlantic Ocean eight hundred leagues away.
“And the river which carries to the sea the largest volume of water,”
replied Manoel.
“A volume so considerable,” added Benito, “that it freshens the sea
water for an immense distance from its mouth, and the force of whose
current is felt by ships at eight leagues from the coast.”
“A river whose course is developed over more than thirty degrees of
latitude.”
“And in a basin which from south to north does not comprise less than
twenty-five degrees.”
“A basin!” exclaimed Benito. “Can you call it a basin, the vast plain
through which it runs, the savannah which on all sides stretches out of
sight, without a hill to give a gradient, without a mountain to bound
the horizon?”
“And along its whole extent,” continued Manoel, “like the thousand
tentacles of some gigantic polyp, two hundred tributaries, flowing from
north or south, themselves fed by smaller affluents without number, by
the side of which the large rivers of Europe are but petty streamlets.”
“And in its course five hundred and sixty islands, without counting
islets, drifting or stationary, forming a kind of archipelago, and
yielding of themselves the wealth of a kingdom!”
“And along its flanks canals, lagoons, and lakes, such as cannot be met
with even in Switzerland, Lombardy, Scotland, or Canada.”
“A river which, fed by its myriad tributaries, discharges into the
Atlantic over two hundred and fifty millions of cubic meters of water
every hour.”
“A river whose course serves as the boundary of two republics, and
sweeps majestically across the largest empire of South America, as if it
were, in very truth, the Pacific Ocean itself flowing out along its own
canal into the Atlantic.”
“And what a mouth! An arm of the sea in which one island, Marajo, has a
circumference of more than five hundred leagues!”
“And whose waters the ocean does not pond back without raising in a
strife which is phenomenal, a tide-race, or _‘pororoca,’_ to which the
ebbs, the bores, and the eddies of other rivers are but tiny ripples
fanned up by the breeze.”
“A river which three names are scarcely enough to distinguish, and which
ships of heavy tonnage, without any change in their cargoes, can ascend
for more than three thousand miles from its mouth.”
“A river which, by itself, its affluents, and subsidiary streams,
opens a navigable commercial route across the whole of the south of
the continent, passing from the Magdalena to the Ortequazza, from the
Ortequazza to the Caqueta, from the Caqueta to the Putumayo, from the
Putumayo to the Amazon! Four thousand miles of waterway, which only
require a few canals to make the network of navigation complete!”
“In short, the biggest and most admirable river system which we have in
the world.”
The two young men were speaking in a kind of frenzy of their
incomparable river. They were themselves children of this great
Amazon, whose affluents, well worthy of itself, from the highways which
penetrate Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, New Grenada, Venezuela, and the four
Guianas--English, French, Dutch and Brazilian.
What nations, what races, has it seen whose origin is lost in the
far-distant past! It is one of the largest rivers of the globe. Its true
source still baffles our explorers. Numbers of States still claim
the honor of giving it birth. The Amazon was not likely to escape the
inevitable fate, and Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia have for years disputed
as to the honor of its glorious paternity.
To-day, however, there seems to be little doubt but that the Amazon
rises in Peru, in the district of Huaraco, in the department of Tarma,
and that it starts from the Lake of Lauricocha, which is situated
between the eleventh and twelfth degree of south latitude.
Those who make the river rise in Bolivia, and descend form the mountains
of Titicaca, have to prove that the true Amazon is the Ucayali, which is
formed by the junction of the Paro and the Apurimac--an assertion which
is now generally rejected.
At its departure from Lake Lauricocha the youthful river starts toward
the northeast for a distance of five hundred and sixty miles, and does
not strike to the west until it has received an important tributary--the
Panta. It is called the Marañon in its journey through Colombia and Peru
up to the Brazilian frontier--or, rather, the Maranhao, for Marañon is
only the French rendering of the Portuguese name.
From the frontier of Brazil to Manaos, where the superb Rio Negro joins
it, it takes the name of the Solimaës, or Solimoens, from the name of
the Indian tribe Solimao, of which survivors are still found in the
neighboring provinces. And, finally, from Manaos to the sea it is the
Amasenas, or river of the Amazons, a name given it by the old
Spaniards, the descendants of the adventurous Orellana, whose vague but
enthusiastic stories went to show that there existed a tribe of female
warriors on the Rio Nhamunda, one of the middle-sized affluents of the
great river.
From its commencement the Amazon is recognizable as destined to become
a magnificent stream. There are neither rapids nor obstacles of any sort
until it reaches a defile where its course is slightly narrowed between
two picturesque and unequal precipices. No falls are met with until this
point is reached, where it curves to the eastward, and passes through
the intermediary chain of the Andes. Hereabouts are a few waterfalls,
were it not for which the river would be navigable from its mouth to its
source. As it is, however, according the Humboldt, the Amazon is free
for five-sixths of its length.
And from its first starting there is no lack of tributaries, which are
themselves fed by subsidiary streams. There is the Chinchipa, coming
from the northeast, on its left. On its right it is joined by the
Chachapoyas, coming from the northeast. On the left we have the Marona
and the Pastuca; and the Guallaga comes in from the right near the
mission station of Laguna. On the left there comes the Chambyra and the
Tigré, flowing from the northeast; and on the right the Huallaga, which
joins the main stream twenty-eight hundred miles from the Atlantic, and
can be ascended by steamboats for over two hundred miles into the very
heart of Peru. To the right, again, near the mission of San Joachim
d’Omaguas, just where the upper basin terminates, and after flowing
majestically across the pampas of Sacramento, it receives the
magnificent Ucayali, the great artery which, fed by numerous affluents,
descends from Lake Chucuito, in the northeast of Arica.
Such are the principal branches above the village of Iquitos. Down the
stream the tributaries become so considerable that the beds of most
European rivers would fail to contain them. But the mouths of these
auxiliary waters Joam Garral and his people will pass as they journey
down the Amazon.
To the beauties of this unrivaled river, which waters the finest country
in the world, and keeps along its whole course at a few degrees to the
south of the equator, there is to be added another quality, possessed
by neither the Nile, the Mississippi, nor the Livingstone--or, in
other words, the old Congo-Zaira-Lualaba--and that is (although some
ill-informed travelers have stated to the contrary) that the Amazon
crosses a most healthy part of South America. Its basin is constantly
swept by westerly winds. It is not a narrow valley surrounded by high
mountains which border its banks, but a huge plain, measuring three
hundred and fifty leagues from north to south, scarcely varied with a
few knolls, whose whole extent the atmospheric currents can traverse
unchecked.
Professor Agassiz very properly protested against the pretended
unhealthiness of the climate of a country which is destined to become one
of the most active of the world’s producers. According to him, “a soft
and gentle breeze is constantly observable, and produces an evaporation,
thanks to which the temperature is kept down, and the sun does not give
out heat unchecked. The constancy of this refreshing breeze renders the
climate of the river Amazon agreeable, and even delightful.”
The Abbé Durand has likewise testified that if the temperature does not
drop below 25 degrees Centigrade, it never rises above 33 degrees, and
this gives for the year a mean temperature of from 28 degrees to 29
degrees, with a range of only 8 degrees.
After such statements we are safe in affirming that the basin of the
Amazon has none of the burning heats of countries like Asia and Africa,
which are crossed by the same parallels.
The vast plain which serves for its valley is accessible over its whole
extent to the generous breezes which come from off the Atlantic.
And the provinces to which the river has given its name have
acknowledged right to call themselves the healthiest of a country which
is one of the finest on the earth.
And how can we say that the hydrographical system of the Amazon is not
known?
In the sixteenth century Orellana, the lieutenant of one of the brothers
Pizarro, descended the Rio Negro, arrived on the main river in 1540,
ventured without a guide across the unknown district, and, after
eighteen months of a navigation of which is record is most marvelous,
reached the mouth.
In 1636 and 1637 the Portuguese Pedro Texeira ascended the Amazon to
Napo, with a fleet of forty-seven pirogues.
In 1743 La Condamine, after having measured an arc of the meridian at
the equator, left his companions Bouguer and Godin des Odonais, embarked
on the Chinchipe, descended it to its junction with the Marañon, reached
the mouth at Napo on the 31st of July, just in time to observe an
emersion of the first satellite of Jupiter--which allowed this “Humboldt
of the eighteenth century” to accurately determine the latitude and
longitude of the spot--visited the villages on both banks, and on the
6th of September arrived in front of the fort of Para. This immense
journey had important results--not only was the course of the Amazon
made out in scientific fashion, but it seemed almost certain that it
communicated with the Orinoco.
Fifty-five years later Humboldt and Bonpland completed the valuable work
of La Condamine, and drew up the map of the Manañon as far as Napo.
Since this period the Amazon itself and all its principal tributaries
have been frequently visited.
In 1827 Lister-Maw, in 1834 and 1835 Smyth, in 1844 the French
lieutenant in command of the “Boulonnaise,” the Brazilian Valdez in
1840, the French “Paul Marcoy” from 1848 to 1860, the whimsical painter
Biard in 1859, Professor Agassiz in 1865 and 1866, in 1967 the Brazilian
engineer Franz Keller-Linzenger, and lastly, in 1879 Doctor Crevaux,
have explored the course of the river, ascended many of its tributaries,
and ascertained the navigability of its principal affluents.
But what has won the greatest honor for the Brazilian government is
that on the 31st of July, 1857, after numerous frontier disputes between
France and Brazil, about the Guiana boundary, the course of the Amazon
was declared to be free and open to all flags; and, to make practice
harmonize with theory, Brazil entered into negotiations with the
neighboring powers for the exploration of every river-road in the basin
of the Amazon.
To-day lines of well-found steamboats, which correspond direct with
Liverpool, are plying on the river from its mouth up to Manaos; others
ascend to Iquitos; others by way of the Tapajoz, the Madeira, the Rio
Negro, or the Purus, make their way into the center of Peru and Bolivia.
One can easily imagine the progress which commerce will one day make in
this immense and wealthy area, which is without a rival in the world.
But to this medal of the future there is a reverse. No progress can be
accomplished without detriment to the indigenous races.
In face, on the Upper Amazon many Indian tribes have already
disappeared, among others the Curicicurus and the Sorimaos. On the
Putumayo, if a few Yuris are still met with, the Yahuas have abandoned
the district to take refuge among some of the distant tributaries, and
the Maoos have quitted its banks to wander in their diminished numbers
among the forests of Japura.
The Tunantins is almost depopulated, and there are only a few families
of wandering Indians at the mouth of the Jurua. The Teffé is almost
deserted, and near the sources of the Japur there remained but the
fragments of the great nation of the Umaüa. The Coari is forsaken. There
are but few Muras Indians on the banks of the Purus. Of the ancient
Manaos one can count but a wandering party or two. On the banks of the
Rio Negro there are only a few half-breeds, Portuguese and natives,
where a few years ago twenty-four different nations had their homes.
Such is the law of progress. The Indians will disappear. Before the
Anglo-Saxon race Australians and Tasmanians have vanished. Before the
conquerors of the Far West the North American Indians have been wiped
out. One day perhaps the Arabs will be annihilated by the colonization
of the French.
But we must return to 1852. The means of communication, so numerous now,
did not then exist, and the journey of Joam Garral would require not
less than four months, owing to the conditions under which it was made.
Hence this observation of Benito, while the two friends were watching
the river as it gently flowed at their feet:
“Manoel, my friend, if there is very little interval between our arrival
at Belem and the moment of our separation, the time will appear to you
to be very short.”
“Yes, Benito,” said Manoel, “and very long as well, for Minha cannot by
my wife until the end of the voyage.”