Chapter 8
Finding our patient better in the afternoon, Gonzalez, Materon, and myself took a little trip down to San Jose, a small Cioni town about a kilometre below La Sofia. This village and its inhabitants are very similar to Guineo and San Diego, only a trifle larger than the latter. Here we stopped some time, and I was able to obtain several souvenirs from the Indians, besides a shallow earthen pot, which I determined to fix in the canoe to cook in, thus avoiding the loss of time consequent to performing this operation on shore. On our return, while pushing the canoe upstream between the numerous stumps along the shore, in the manner already described for surcadas, Gon- zalez, although an excellent boatman, suddenly lost his balance and fell with a thud into the deep water. Fortunately, we succeeded in pulling him out, none the worse for his wetting, and in a half- hour reached La Sofia without further adventure. Here we found Perkins somewhat better, so we fixed the pot in the fore part of the canoe in the manner I had planned and made arrangements to depart on the following day, for Gonzalez had decided to accompany us as far as Yocuropui, the next Cioni village, to see the Indians there. Perkins better, we accordingly bade goodbye to our kind friend Materon the next morning, Thursday, December 5th and lashing our canoe to Gonzalez's in order to keep together and to facilitate conversation, we once more resumed our journey. Materon had thoughtfully filled the canoe with papayas, bananas, etc. So what with them, the conversation, and the shooting, we were kept pretty busy.
The river soon became much broader, owing to the numerous tributaries, and the current much gentler, while great sand and gravel playas began to appear with some frequency. Numerous beautiful birds, flying from stump to stump, lent an air of life to the otherwise silent river, while occasionally a group of monkeys could be seen making their way from tree to tree, almost hidden by the thick leaves and tangled creepers so characteristic of Amazonian vegetation. Soon the heat grew uncomfortable, so we all withdrew under the commodious pamacari, where it was quite agreeable. At 11.30 we stopped for almuerzo on an immense playa, upon which were two or three dilapidated looking raiichos, probably erected by the exiles about a month before. Having partaken of a fair lunch of fried yuca, sausage, rice, and coffee, we were about to get into the canoes when Perkins' eye fell upon a huge ostrich-like bird several hundred metres away. As he was such a fine specimen, Perkins endeavoured to get within range, but in vain, for the beauty, apparently as fond of his fine feathers as we were, soon disappeared into the forest and we saw him no more. This fine bird was probably a nandii or ema* sometimes called the ostrich of America. Resuming the journey, at about two o'clock we passed a large playa on the left bank, known as the Playa de Oro (The Golden Beach) on account of the supposed richness of its placer deposits. We did not examine it, however, owing to lack of time. A little later Perkins had the good fortune to kill a large duck, and Gonzalez almost got another, but it dived and Rhea Americana went up the river, and when next he appeared he had nearly reached the shore, so we did not pursue him farther. At about 5.30 p.m. we reached an extensive sand island in the middle of the river, where we decided to stop for the night. After securing the canoes we started cooking, while the Indians crossed over to the thickly wooded river bank and soon returned with a load of palm leaves and several short poles of cana brava (Gynerium sogitatum) or wild cane, from which, within ten minutes, they constructed two ranches, where we were to sleep during the night. After the meal was over we sat around smoking, while the Indians washed the dishes, soon after which we all retired. During the night I felt something pricking one of my fingers, as it seemed to me. Striking a match, I was amazed to see the blood pour from a smooth, round hole, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, on the first joint of my index finger. Thinking it might have been done by some poisonous reptile, I awakened Gonzalez, who, after a glance at the wound, informed me that it was the work of a vampire bat.
As I afterwards ascertained, these bats are very common in this region, in some parts becoming a veritable pest, attacking not only mankind but also cattle, pigs, etc., and often almost killing them by the constant loss of blood, while I have seen men who told me they had been obliged to flee from certain localities in order to avoid the pertinacious attacks of these midnight marauders. They always commit their depredations at night, and it is very rare that they awaken their victims, for while their sharp teeth quickly burrow their way through the skin to the blood, their continually moving wings fan the wound in such a manner as to cause almost complete absence of pain, and the victim generally knows nothing of the midnight attack until he observes the wound. The next morning, at about seven o'clock, we again set out, and in a few minutes we saw a fine pava which promptly fell a victim to Gonzalez' aim. After a short stop for lunch, we saw some young peccaries at the bottom of the steep bank on our left. Approaching hastily, we succeeded, after a short struggle, in capturing them alive, as they were very young, and then disembarked to try for the mother, whom we heard grunting in the distance. We spent a good half-hour struggling through the thick, thorny underbrush, but all in vain... we could not find her. The young ones we put in the boat, for Gonzalez wished to take them back to La Sofia to see if he could domesticate them. In about two hours more we reached Yocuropui, a small village of about ten houses, situated on a high knoll on the right bank. Here we passed the afternoon in trading with the inhabitants, exchanging the various articles that we had bought in Pasto for Indian souvenirs, such as bodoquedas, quivers of poisoned arrows, pots of paint and poison, &c. Here we got a couple of splendid hammocks. These Indians are Cionis, and in every way resemble those already described, except that they are, I think, a little crookeder. In accordance with our custom, we had given them a gourdful of aguardiente on our arrival, but, not satisfied with that, several of them had sneaked down to the canoe while we were trading with the rest and had almost half-emptied the barrel before we discovered them.
Gonzalez, who was corregidor — a sort of magistrate — during Martinez' absence, then made a long speech to them, emphasising their " base breach of hospitality to the two illustrious travellers," and wound up by threatening to put several of them in stocks. Completely abashed by this, they silently slunk out of the hut, and for the rest of our stay at Yocuropui our barrel of aguardiente was left severely alone. On the following day we bade adios to Gonzalez and set out alone, as the bogus of Guineo would go no farther, and those of Yocuropui wished to delay several days in order to celebrate one of their fiesta which was to occur in about ten days. We had already lost much valuable time in Pasto and Mocoa, and as Gonzalez had assured us that there were no falls nor rapids before us, we were rather glad to try our own skill as bogus. Perkins, seated upon the high poop astern with his short Indian paddle in his hand, acted as popero, while I did the cooking up in the bow, at the same time keeping my eyes "peeled" for stumps and game with the gun in easy reach. The sun was very hot, but occasionally a gentle breeze helped matters a little. The current was now very gentle, and our progress was exceedingly slow. As we were slowly drifting along the bank to get the benefit of the current, which was strongest there on account of a bend in the river, I discerned the dark outline of some large object lying upon an immense fallen tree-trunk. Approaching nearer, we found to our astonishment that it was an enormous boa constrictor curled up fast asleep sunning himself.
As our rifle was out of order I took deliberate aim with the shotgun, and at a distance of some ten metres let fly at him. The hideous monster jumped up and, after lashing his tail wildly about two or three times, plunged with a splash into the water but a few metres from our canoe and was lost to sight. From our short view of him we perceived that he was of a dark brown color, except his belly, which was white and about ten inches in diameter; his length being, as near as we could judge, some twenty or twenty-five feet. These reptiles are fairly numerous on the Putumayo. Along here we noticed that the river followed a regular system of long windings. First one bank would be eaten into by the strong current that swept past it, while the opposite shore would be protected by an extensive sand or gravel playa, often a kilometre or so in width. Then the current would in the course of a couple of kilometres reach the other bank and begin its scouring operations there, while the first would commence to accumulate a play a. This system of long curves or windings extends along the whole course of the Putumayo, and it is to be observed in most of the large rivers of the Amazon basin. It is this that makes the Putumayo so wide and shallow and accounts for the numerous sand islands thrown up in midstream. In low water the channel cut out by these ever-changing currents must be strictly followed by all steamers and launches in order to prevent grounding.
At eleven o'clock we stopped and had lunch, which I had cooked previously while Perkins was performing the role of boga on a nice shady playa on the right bank. Here I managed to kill a good-sized turkey, and, after continuing about two hours, I got another, so that for dinner we had an excellent meal, the chief piece de resistance being roast turkey. This operation concluded, we tied up the canoe securely, and instead of building a rancho both went to sleep in the canoe under the pamacari. It was a little crowded, but we got along all right and passed the night quite comfortably. At about six o'clock the next morning we resumed the trip, and a couple of hours later passed the mouth of the Quebrada San Miguel, a large tributary, almost as large as the Putumayo itself, on the right bank. It was here that we first made the acquaintance of a gigantic buzzing bee that followed us for hours, flying about Perkins' head in such an irritating manner that he split our best paddle in a vain endeavour to kill it. This he finally succeeded in doing, but the deceased's place was soon taken by others, who kept at poor Perkins until nightfall. They did not trouble me, probably on account of the smoke from the fire burning in the pot I got in San Jose. At midday Perkins took an observation for latitude, and found that we had just passed the Equator, being then a few minutes south of the Line. In order to celebrate this occurrence we both got out- side of a good dram of aguardiente; we had made a successful "dash" to the Equator, to employ the Polar term. Soon we came to a place where the river divided into two arms, or brazos, a large and a small one. We chose the latter for the sake of the shade and the better chance of shooting game. As we slowly made our way through the narrow brazo, the branches in some places joining over our heads, the calm beauty of the luxuriant vegetation and the intense silence of the forest, broken only by the occasional shrill call of some brilliant bird or the howl of a distant tribe of monkeys, combined to make us think we were in some fairy land. Emerging at last from the shady arcade of the brazo, we again entered the main river, and at one o'clock reached Montepa, the last village of the Cionis, situated upon a steep knoll on the left bank. It consisted of eight or ten little bamboo huts, very similar to the other Cioni villages already described. Here we stopped a couple of liours and had a long talk with the capitdn, who seemed to think we were very brave in making the trip without bogas, and as a token of his admiration offered us each a drink of mazata. After collecting a few more souvenirs we were about to depart, when Perkins suddenly spied an enormous catfish, which, after the inevitable haggling, we purchased. This reminded us that we had plenty of lishing- tackle ourselves, so we resolved to test our angling abilities that very night. Taking a most affectionate leave of the worthy capitan whose extreme friendliness was doubtless inspired by our aguardiente. We resumed our descent, and continued for a couple of hours, when, reaching a convenient island, we stopped for the night.
While I prepared dinner Perkins shot a few small birds, which seemed to belong to a species of dove, as bait, and, after our meal was over, we rigged up a couple of lines and began fishing. Soon I felt a nibble at my hook, and when I thought the fish had it well digested I pulled and had the satisfaction of landing a fine big catfish. Perkins soon caught another, and presently we had a good number of the handsome big fellows. In the morning we enjoyed an excellent breakfast of fried fish, after which we again set out. The river now became enormously wider on account of its division into several brazos, some of which covered great distances before rejoining the main channel. Large islands, covered with the prevailing dense vegetation, commenced to appear with great frequency, while tributaries of all sizes continued mingling their contents with those of the main river. In fact, the whole country was becoming a complete network of brazos and que- bradas, so intermingled and so numerous that it was often difficult to distinguish the one from the other. This continued all the way to the mouth of the river, and is common to nearly all the great streams that empty into the Amazon. Here we began to observe the boto, dog-fish or pira-jaguar (Phoeajna brasiliensis) of the Indians, a huge fish often more than two metres in length, which plays about in schools in many parts of the river. They would flop awkwardly about, close to the boat, apparently quite at home with us. A rather peculiar custom of theirs is that of gasping and snorting violently, as though disgusted about something. Its flesh is not edible — at any rate, the Cionis will not eat it. This fish is also known as the dolphin of the Amazon. During the whole day we suffered heavily from the suffocating heat, for the burning rays of the equatorial sun shot down upon our unprotected backs with a seemingly intentional fury, and not a breath of air stirred all day. Our thirst was astounding, but, luckily, Materon had insisted upon our taking along a quantity of limes, which now came in very handy to alleviate it. The next day, Tuesday, the 10th, at about ten o'clock, we met a party of Indians, apparently returning to Montepa from a hunting expedition. We hailed them and asked what luck they had had, but they hurried off without replying, probably half-frightened to death at seeing two genuine, full-blooded white men. In the afternoon we saw a ronsoco, or capivara (Hydrochcerus capibara) a large amphibious animal somewhat resembling a hog, standing near the water on a small flat area at the foot of a very steep clay bank. As soon as we got within range I discharged the shotgun at him, and then we both kept up a hot fire with our revolvers, wounding him in several places, as he made desperate efforts to clamber up the steep, slippery bank. Despairing of this, he suddenly plunged into the water, and we were just on the point of giving up pursuit of him when we saw his head as he came up to breathe. We emptied our six-shooters at him again, but again he dived, coming up in about two minutes, when at our once more taking a shot at him he disappeared for good and we saw him no more. I suspect that we killed him and his body sank. This animal feeds on grasses and weeds on the banks of the river, and is generally about the size of a hog. His scanty coat, of a greyish color, is hard and bristly, but his flesh is used as food by the Indians, although it is not very tasteful. The lard it furnishes is, however, very much esteemed in most parts. I believe that this is the largest rodent known. This rather exciting conflict concluded, we kept on until six o'clock, when we tied up the canoe to a nice sand play a. After dinner we again went out on a nocturnal fishing expedition, and had fair luck, catching enough for breakfast, but not such big ones as on the preceding night. At about ten o'clock we retired to the canoe. The next morning, at about half-past four, we were awakened by a sudden jar, so severe that we rolled all over each other. Climbing out from under the pamacari as quickly as possible, we found to our horror that the canoe was adrift. It had undoubtedly become released during the night from the stake to which it had been fastened and had drifted on downstream with the current. It was only by good luck or the hand of Providence that it had not capsized already. As soon as we realized what had happened I immediately climbed out in the bow to ward off any other stumps that we might be about to strike, while Perkins hurried back to the poop and endeavored to get the bow foremost, for the canoe was floating broadside. Complete darkness prevented us from seeing more than two feet ahead of us, but Perkins succeeded in getting the bow pointing more or less ahead and keeping it there, while I stood up in front trying to make out the best course to avoid the stumps. After what seemed like an eternity, as we expected to capsize every moment, although really about an hour, day began to dawn and we began to breathe again. Soon a good-sized playa appeared and we stopped for breakfast, feeling rather surprised that we were alive to partake of it. After a short rest and a long pull of aguardiente we pushed on again. Soon a gentle breeze began to blow, which was very agreeable, for the heat was scorching ; it gradually increased, however, until it got to be quite a nuisance, raising waves nearly two feet high and blowing against the pamacari with such force that we were once more in danger of capsizing. Finally, the situation became so ticklish, for we did not dare to approach the bank on account of the dangers from falling trees, that much to our regret we were obliged to remove the pamacari, leaving nothing but the bare framework. Things went better then, and in accordance with our usual luck, the wind soon after ceased and within an hour all was calm again. In some seasons of the year fierce tempests take place on the rivers of the Amazon basin, called turbonadas. These are generally accompanied by lightning, torrential rains, etc. and the wind, often attaining a velocity of from twenty to thirty meters per second, blows down trees and causes such large waves and whirlpools that canoes are often overturned and lost unless great care is taken. At two o'clock we unexpectedly reached Guepi, a scattered collection of three Colombian rubber-trading establishments, about a kilometre apart from each other. We stopped for an hour or so at the first house, belonging to one Seiior Muiioz ; this was a large split-palm bungalow, raised about six feet above the level of the ground in order to prevent flooding during the wet season, when the river overflows its banks. It appeared to be uncompleted, for there were no walls, although the roof and the elevated floor were finished, and the latter was covered with a miscellaneous collection of bultos, heaps of yuca and plantains, pots and kettles, peons in hammocks, pieces of rubber, and other things too numerous to mention. The inhabitants seemed to be taking life easily and not worrying about a rainy day, for they all knocked off as soon as we appeared and began simultaneously to talk and to fill themselves and us with aguardiente. They seemed to be a merry, jovial lot, and when we left insisted upon presenting us with a dozen eggs and a whole lot of papayas and plantains. At about 3.30 we reached the settlement of Senor Fajardo, another bungalow, somewhat smaller than Munoz', but on much the same style. Here we were also cordially received by the proprietor, a small, dark-complexioned man of about fifty, and his buxom wife. As they both pressed us to stop all night with them we gladly assented, and, accompanying them to the house, we were introduced to Drs. Ortiz and Hernandez, two of the recently exiled political prisoners from Mocoa, who it appears, had escaped from the escort at this place and were about to set out for Iquitos via the River Napo.
The two exiles seemed to be very decent fellows, and gave us a rather interesting account of their imprisonment and of their subsequent escape from the escort. Their companions, however, had elected to continue their journey to the Caraparana and take a launch from there to Iquitos, as was our intention; but these two gentlemen had thought it more interesting to ascend the River Guepi by canoe as far as possible, and then, crossing overland to the River Santa Maria, an affluent of the Napo, to descend that river and the Napo to their destination, the Peruvian town of Iquitos on the Amazon. As we were bound for the same place we promptly made an arrangement to the effect that the ones who reached there last were to regale the first-comers with a good dinner and half a dozen bottles of the best champagne. We then celebrated this compact with a drink of aguardiente each and retired for the night. As the river had risen some two feet by morning the two exiles determined to take advantage of this fact to set out at once, for such small rivers as the Guepi can only be navigated conveniently for any distance when the water is high. In accordance with this resolution they immediately began to pack up and send for their bogas, and at eleven o'clock, everything being ready, the two voyagers, with a last adios, took their departure. Returning to the house, we enjoyed an excellent lunch, during which we learned that our host had extensive rubber areas in the interior of the forest, several days' journey from the riverside and that his peons were now at work there, extracting and preparing this produce for market. Some of this rubber he sells at Mocoa, but his principal market is at Iquitos, which he described as the chief rubber center of the Upper Amazon. In addition to his regular employees he had several Indians also at work collecting for him, whom he paid in merchandise. Lunch over, we said goodbye and took our departure, loaded with a fresh supply of limes, yucas, etc. The river, muddy and swollen to a degree, took us along rapidly, and soon Guepi was left behind and we were again alone upon the river. At about five o'clock we began looking for a playa to stop for the night on, but none were to be seen — the river had covered them. We continued, however, in the hopes of finding some suitable place until it grew dark, when, fearing to go any farther, we tied up to a good, stout stump on the bank. Here we missed our pamacari, but, after some meditation, we hit upon the idea of hanging our ponchos over the framework, which, fortunately, we had left on. This scheme working satisfactorily, we had a couple of games of chess, and then retired. CHAPTER IV THE CENTRAL PUTUMAYO At about seven o'clock the next morning I awoke, yawned, crawled out of our makeshift pamacari, and saw — a desert of wet, uneven sand. Perfectly stupefied, I awakened Perkins, and we stepped out to investigate. There stood — firm as a rock — the stump that had served as our sheet-anchor, and yonder— separated from us by a broad stretch of sandy beach— ran the river. At last we understood. The river had gone down some two feet during the night and had left us stranded on the enormous play a that was now revealed. Awakening at last from the stupefaction that had overcome us, we endeavored to push the canoe over the 150 meters of sand that lay between the river and us. We might as well have tried to move the river itself, for we could not shift it an inch. Still undismayed, we grasped our trusty machetes, cut down several setico trees, peeled off the bark, and, after a severe struggle, got them under the canoe with the idea of sliding it over them. But it was useless, for they sank out of sight in the sand. The next attempt was still more laborious, for it was nothing less than building a track, composed of two parallel rows of logs and then inserting rollers between the track and the canoe. This, too, proved unavailing. In despair we took out all our effects and tried it again, but in vain. Roused to desperation, we made one more effort by trying to overturn the craft, but it was so waterlogged that we could not lift it three inches. Panting, perspiring, and cursing bitterly, we saw that we were in for it, so, taking a long drink of aguardiente each, we carefully put everything back in the canoe, and I cooked the breakfast while Perkins fixed up the two mosquito-bars over the framework of our late pamacari.
Breakfast over, we sat down to consider the matter, calmly and judicially. We had tried everything our ingenuity could suggest, but without the slightest success. Thus we should be compelled to stop here until some one came along and helped us or until the river rose again. Judging by the fact that up to this point we had not encountered a single traveler, the first possibility seemed very remote and in regard to the second, we now remembered that Fajardo had informed us that this was probably the last rise of the river until the beginning of the wet season, which is about the end of January. As it was now Friday, December 13th, it looked as though we were bound to stay here some time. After lunch we set out upon an exploring expedition along the deserted playa, which proved to be some three kilometers in length. Through its southern extremity ran a small quebrada, which issued from the dense, impenetrable jungle and finally emptied into the river. In some of the deep pools of this stream we observed several enormous alligators swimming about, the tips of their noses protruding from the water like the tops of logs. Several species of Saurians are common in the Central and Lower Putumayo, such as the Alligator cynocephalus, which is frequently from eight to ten feet long; the Alligator palpebrosus, smaller but equally voracious; and the Crocodilus sclerops, or spectacled alligator, so called on account of his horrible red eyes, projecting outwardly like a pair of glasses on his snout. This brute, which attains a length of from twelve to fifteen feet, lays its eggs in the warm sand, where in due time they are hatched. These alligators, or cay manes rarely attack man, and feed chiefly on fish and small animals, such as river-seals, capivaras, etc. Returning to the canoe, we thought that it would be an excellent idea to remove our shoes and socks and go barefoot, for the sand was loose and soft and inconvenienced us by getting in the tops of the shoes. We had no sooner taken off these articles, however, than we discovered that the sand was burning hot from the blazing rays of the sun. So hot, in fact, that we hastened to put them on again at once. While I busied myself preparing dinner Perkins went to work cleaning up our rifle, which we had neglected and allowed to become very rusty.