young Indian, named Manoel. He came on board this morning at eight o'clock, and we then got up our anchor and resumed our voyage.
The wind was light and variable all day, and we made only about fifteen miles by seven o'clock in the evening. The coast formed a succession of long, shallow bays with sandy beaches, on which the waves broke in a long line of surf. Ten miles above Altar do Chaõ is a conspicuous headland, called Point Cajetúba. During a lull of the wind, towards midday, we ran the cuberta aground in shallow water and waded ashore, but the woods were scarcely penetrable, and not a bird was to be seen. The only thing observed worthy of note, was the quantity of drowned winged ants along the beach; they were all of one species, the terrible formiga de fogo (Myrmica sævissima); the dead, or half-dead bodies of which were heaped up in a line an inch or two in height and breadth, the line continuing without interruption for miles at the edge of the water. The countless thousands had been doubtless cast into the river whilst flying during a sudden squall the night before, and afterwards cast ashore by the waves. We found ourselves at seven o'clock near the mouth of a creek leading to a small lake, called Aramána-í, and the wind having died away, we anchored, guided by the lights ashore, near the house of a settler, named Jeronymo, whom I knew, and who, soon after, showed us a snug little harbour, where we could remain in safety for the night. The river here cannot be less than ten miles broad; it is quite clear of islands and free from shoals at this season of the year. The opposite coast appeared in the
