the Santa Rosa, Senhor Jacinto Machado, whom I had not seen before, received me aboard, and apologised for having started without me. He was a white man, a planter, and was now taking his year's produce of cacao, about twenty tons, to Pará. The canoe was very heavily laden, and I was rather alarmed to see that it was leaking at all points. The crew were all in the water diving about to feel for the holes, which they stopped with pieces of rag and clay, and an old negro was baling the water out of the hold. This was a pleasant prospect for a three days' voyage! Senhor Machado treated it as the most ordinary incident possible. "It was always likely to leak, for it was an old vessel that had been left as worthless high and dry on the beach, and he had bought it very cheap."
When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey, and at night reached the mouth of the Anapú. I wrapped myself up in an old sail, and fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day we threaded the Igarapémirim, and on the 19th descended the Mojú. Senhor Machado and I by this time had become very good friends. At every interesting spot on the banks of the Mojú, he manned the small boat and took me ashore. There are many large houses on this river belonging to what were formerly large and flourishing plantations. Since the revolution of 1835–6, they had been suffered to go to decay. Two of the largest buildings were constructed by the Jesuits in the early part of the last century. We were told that there were formerly eleven large sugar-mills on the banks of the Mojú, but now there are only three. At Burujúba, there is a large
