Venezuela

As the term “Oriente” is used to-day in Venezuela, it includes the cities of Barcelona, Maturín and Ciudad Bolivar, with their surrounding districts, but since these are more fitly considered in succeeding chapters, the use of the word is restricted here to the eastern part of the Caribbean Hills, the Island of Margarita, and the Delta of the Orinoco.

The “Oriente” thus includes those parts, not only of Venezuela but of the New Continent, which were first visited by Europeans. The names of the Boca del Draco (between the peninsula of Paria and Trinidad) and of Margarita were given by Columbus; Cubagua supported the first settlement of adventurers, and the shores westward of Cumaná were visited by Alonso de Ojeda on his first voyage.

Margarita lies some twenty miles north of the mainland, with the islands of Cubagua and Coche between. It is practically two islands joined by a sandspit, the two halves being equally rugged and mountainous; the western is known as Macanao, and contains but few inhabitants, the towns being all in the eastern half or Margarita proper.

With the surrounding smaller islands it constitutes the State of Nueva Esparta. The capital, Asunción, founded in 1524, is in a sheltered valley at the eastern end of the island. A ruined fort above the town, ruins of substantial houses, grass-grown streets and a general atmosphere of decay make the town somewhat depressing. To the south-east are the ports of Pampatar and Porlamar, the former the most important, since to this come European liners, but Porlamar has the larger population. The bay of Porlamar is generally full of small fishing-smacks and pearling vessels, which carry on two of the chief industries of the island, though from Pampatar, with the pearls, they export also tiles, hats of straw and of a kind of velvet known as pelo guamo, hammocks, and embroidery.

The western half of Margarita is dry and barren for the most part, with small, scrubby vegetation, but here and there one finds grass-covered glades and more fertile soil; the inhabitants are chiefly fishermen, living in great poverty, with poor diet, yet contented and at the same time amazingly ignorant of the outside world. Who may be president in Carácas matters little to them, and European countries and cities are unknown. Probably fibre could be grown here with advantage, but the only land industry appears to be the farming of goats or cattle. Some of the outlying homesteads are conducted on patriarchal lines, and the families of the owners are occasionally enormous. Many of the people seem to be direct descendants of the ancient Guaiquerias, of strangely Mongolian appearance.

In Porlamar one may arrange for a passage in one of the little sloops or schooners to any of the other islands of the State, and it is as well to be prepared for a drenching if it is necessary to sail against the wind. Porlamar is a triste little town with about 3,500 inhabitants. We had the good (or ill) fortune to be there on the night when this planet passed through the tail of Halley’s comet, which for some time previous had been a magnificent sight in the early morning. The priest had given out that the earth was to be destroyed by the comet at 2 a.m. prompt unless perhaps repentance, signified by devotion to mother-Church, was sufficiently general to avert disaster. As a result all the evening the churches, brilliantly lighted by myriads of candles, were crammed with devotees who professed and doubtless felt penitence for past misdeeds, if thereby they might prevent the threatened destruction or secure safety for themselves. Two o’clock came and passed, but, the night being cloudy, there was no sign of the comet, and the crowd flocked to the club and the botiquins to make up for lost time. It was in vain for the priests to tell them that the comet would come back if they persisted in their evil ways: the churches have remained as empty as they were before the months of the comet.

After this digression we may glance at Cubagua, the once famous pearl island, now perhaps on the eve of obtaining a new importance as a source of petroleum. There are springs of mineral oil along the northern shore, a tiny fishing village at the south-west corner, one small patch of cultivation with a single hut near the centre of the island, and a small cattle-ranch at the eastern end, and that is all—not a visible trace on all its barren surface of the once great city of New Cadiz. The eastern end is the most pleasant to-day, supporting more vegetation than the rest, and it is here, I was told, that diligent search and delving will reveal relics of the fifteenth-century settlement. Nothing seems to have been done in the way of archæological exploration, and even the old coat-of-arms graven in stone was picked up by chance on the shore to be lost again (apparently) in Carácas. It was displayed at the Bolivar Centenary Exhibition in 1883, and lay neglected in the patio of the building in 1891.

The west end of the island has a fine bay, with deep water, sheltered from the constant east wind, so that it is hard to see for what reason the city was founded at the other extremity; harder still, perhaps, to understand why it was founded at all on a barren island where practically every drop of water had to be brought from Margarita or from the Rio Manzanares at Cumaná. Its end came after its partial destruction by earthquake and hurricane in 1543, with the subsequent decrease in the output of the pearl fisheries, already spoilt by the extravagant and careless exploitation of the Spaniards, who soon paid more attention to those of the neighbouring island of Coche. It was infamous during its existence for the cruelties of its slave market, where the captive Indians of the mainland were branded with the initial letter of the city, and even after its final abandonment the memory of that fatal “C” rankled in the minds of the unfortunate Caribs and Chaymas.

Now, however, barring the heat in the valleys and to leeward of the cliffs of its treeless surface, the island is pleasant enough, and the clear shallows with their safe bathing-places are a compensation for the midday heat, while in the rock-pools the squids, water-snakes, and many-coloured shells of the tropical seas are a continual source of delight (to the eye); often, too, one may see the giant rays splashing in the strait between the island and Margarita, like huge pieces of armour-plate leaping from the water.

Coche still possesses a town in San Pedro de Coche, whose population live partly by their fisheries, but chiefly by the exploitation of the white salt of their salinas, almost the finest in Venezuela.

Separated from Cubagua and Coche by only a few miles of shallow water is the peninsula of Araya, behind which lies the Gulf of Cariaco, a long east and west arm of the sea. At the entrance on the south side is Cumaná, capital of the State, which, since the chief city was the birthplace of José de Sucre, of revolutionary fame, is now called after him, while the actual port of Cumaná is known as Puerto Sucre. The town was founded in 1520, and has a special interest in that it owed much in its early years to the labours of Bartolomé de las Casas. It has more than once suffered severely from earthquakes, and these earth tremors have, at times, played a considerable part in its history.

The town is connected with the port by about half a mile of dusty road across the sand-flats, and alongside runs a tramway, the motive power for which is supplied by mules; projects for utilising steam-engines have been formed but have never materialised, though an efficient service ought to pay. To the east the Gulf of Cariaco stretches away for about fifty miles, with a mean width of six or seven. At the eastern end its waters are covered with wild fowl of all kinds, and the local peasants catch them for their plumage by diving under the birds and drowning them, a feat necessitating a considerable development of fish-like qualities.

At the western end of the peninsula of Araya is the site of the old castle of Araya, built at the suggestion of Las Casas for the preservation of peace between the Cubaguans and the Caribs; here, too, are the extensive salinas, and on the south side there are oil-springs, indicating deposits whose value and extent have still to be investigated. The product of the salt-pans is, both in quality and quantity, second only to that of Coche, and amounts to some 6,000 tons in the year.

The neighbourhood of Cumaná, along the banks of its river, the Manzanares, is famous for fruits of all kinds, principally pineapples, grapes, and mangoes; the less fertile hills look like cotton country, but none is grown, or very little. The chief exports of Puerto Sucre are coffee, tobacco, sugar, beans, and hides, brought from the interior.

This produce is carried on mule-back along the mountain roads of Sucre. The main route from the interior follows the Manzanares for most of its course, but the last few leagues lie over a steep ridge, a shorter but more troublesome route than that along the river, were the latter properly looked after. The upper valley of the Manzanares has some beautiful pieces of scenery as the gorge is followed through the limestone hills; until Cumanacoa is reached, however, fifty miles from Cumaná, there is no cultivation in the valley, and little possibility of it, and the coastal region generally seems only fit for cotton or fibre cultivation.

Round Cumanacoa there are fertile hillsides and rich alluvial flats, chiefly devoted to coffee and sugar or beans. When the town was founded by Domingo Arias in 1717, he named it San Baltazar de las Arias, but as in the case of Cumaná, the old Italian name of the district has ousted the later Spanish one. Above Cumanacoa the valley narrows down into a gorge running up into the mountain-mass on the borders of Sucre and Monágas, the watershed forming the boundary between the two States. On the high, open grass-lands there is pasturage for many more sheep and cattle than one sees at present, and the change in climate from the hot, damp valleys is very pleasant, though somewhat sudden.

Some twenty-five miles southward of Cumanacoa is the town of San Antonio, in Humboldt’s time a flourishing mission with a massive stone church built entirely by the Indians; the church, with its beautifully bright frescoes, is still standing, but sadly in want of repair, and one of the towers is cracked and overgrown at the base. Four or five miles to the south-east lies the Caripe valley, famous for its tobacco, and for the Guacharo cavern so well described by Humboldt.

From his account a good idea may be gained of the beauty of the approach and the impressiveness of this hole in the limestone. He describes how, as he and Bonpland, with their friends and guides from the Mission Caripe, travelled up the valley, they were unable to see the mouth of the cave even at 400 paces distant, their way lying under an overhanging cliff, with the stream almost in a crevasse below them; then, turning a corner, they were suddenly in full view of the opening, 80 feet wide and 72 feet high, with stalactites and stalagmites within and huge trees above, while the aspect was different from anything of the kind in Europe on account of the luxuriant tropical vegetation all about. As they walked through the cave it was often necessary to step into the stream, which was only 2 feet deep, while overhead the Guacharos,[6] from which the cave has its name, were uttering their raucous cries. In the broader part of the cave the Indians were accustomed to venture at one season of the year to catch the young birds for their fat, which they used in cooking in the mission, but beyond they would hardly go, believing the spirits of their departed ancestors to be there. At the limit of Humboldt’s exploration in this narrower part he found an underground waterfall, which marks the visible source of the Rio Caripe.

Thirty miles from San Antonio, at Aragua de Maturín, the edge of the hills is reached and the Llanos begin, but to the north-east there lies a stretch of little-known territory, chiefly forest-clad hills, capable of supporting millions of cacao-trees when a growing population shall settle there. Near Punceres there are oil-springs, and at other points in the region indications of petroleum are known, which may one day lead to the development of this rich and well-situated stretch of country, for at the east end is the old Puerto San Juan of colonial days, with a depth of water in the caño of the same name sufficient for steam or sailing craft of considerable size. At present most of the produce of all the northern part of Monágas, as well as of Sucre, passes out over the hills to the Caribbean.

An exception to the above must be made in the case of the asphalt from the Bermudez Lake, which is shipped across to Trinidad. This has been worked for many years by an American company, and is almost as well known as the famous Pitch Lake of Trinidad. It was once thought that the quantity of asphalt visible was much greater here, but fuller investigation showed that though a larger area was covered the thickness of the deposit was very much less than in Trinidad. Over 32,000 tons were exported in the fiscal year 1909-10.

The principal port of the Oriente is Carúpano, on the north coast, midway between the two peninsulas of Paria and Araya. The town, seen from a steamer, seems to be as much huddled up at the foot of the mountains as La Guaira, but in a similar way it extends up the valleys of two streams which here reach the sea. Its position thus makes it hot, though it is sufficiently open to the sea breezes to be healthy. A white zigzag line up the slope behind the town represents the road, down which comes the cocoa of the hills and valleys of Sucre, for which Carúpano is famous, as well as cotton, sugar, timber, and alcohol. This last is a spirit of exceptional purity, and the “white rum” of Carúpano is famed throughout the country. The hills about the town also support aloes, of the fibre of which ropes are manufactured in the town, and near by there are potteries. It is an important place, then, with its population of some 11,000, in spite of the fact that the steamers which visit it have to lie in an open roadstead sheltered only by a promontory to the east from the prevalent winds. Sulphur is found near by, and, it is said, auriferous quartz of high quality, but the minerals have never been systematically worked.

A few miles east of Carúpano is the small port of Rio Caribe, where the roadstead is not sufficiently sheltered to allow steamers to lie; small sailing craft carry away the local produce, which consists principally of cacao. Beyond Rio Caribe is the peninsula of Paria, a beautifully wooded mountain mass rising sheer from the water’s edge and separated only by a narrow strait, with numerous islands, from Trinidad. The northern side of the peninsula is practically uninhabited, but the coast facing the Gulf of Paria has several settlements, chiefly occupied in cultivating cacao or cutting timber; their produce is shipped across to Trinidad.

Cristobal Colón is the most easterly port of Venezuela, and its position at the eastern end of the peninsula of Paria, opposite to the Delta of the Orinoco, led Castro to suppose that a small expenditure of public money would lead to a diversion of all the freight now passing via Port-of-Spain to Ciudad Bolivar, from Trinidad to Venezuela—an ill-founded hope, however, as events proved, for the roadstead is very poor, open to a continual heavy swell coming in through the Bocas, which could only be overcome by extensive harbour-works, the cost of which is entirely unwarranted by the circumstances of the case. The wharves and warehouses erected represent, therefore, a sacrifice of public zeal to a private whim as reprehensible as the construction of the Carora and San Timoteo road.

The trade with Southern Venezuela is normally carried on through Port-of-Spain, goods being there transferred to the Orinoco steamer Delta, which crosses the Gulf of Paria to the Caño Macareo, up which lies the normal route to Ciudad Bolivar. Columbus named the Gulf of Paria “Golfo Triste,” and when one has left the beautiful hills and islands on the north side behind it certainly wears a very gloomy aspect, particularly on a cloudy day.

Near the mouths of the Orinoco the water becomes muddy and musky, full of floating masses of water-hyacinth or dead timber, while away on the horizon one can see a dark band of mangroves marking the beginning of the swampy Delta territory.

Pedernales is the only settlement on the coast of the Delta proper—a gloomy, unhealthy-looking spot, though the islands on which the houses are built are more solid than the surrounding swamps. For the new town one lands at a stone causeway leading across the black mud to a single row of houses, one of which has a flagstaff indicating it as the seat of authority. Crabs crawl on the slime and mud all around, and the black patches of natural asphalt along the main street and foreshore offer no contrast to the dirty pools which necessitate a wary eye and foot in walking. The ruins of the German asphalt and oil refinery a mile or so away add to the desolate effect, and the greeting from outlaws from Trinidad, broken-down whites, and villainous-looking negroes make one even more ready to leave this fever-stricken spot, where the floors of the houses are flooded by frequent downpours in the rainy season. The inhabitants exist chiefly by cutting and exporting mangrove-stems for dyeing and tanning purposes; the asphalt industry seems to be quiescent.

Up the caño the scene is one of great beauty, in the varying foliage of the high green banks, whose inundated forest is hidden by the mass of creepers, bamboos, &c., which come down to the water’s edge; beyond only the tops of the high trees can be seen, though sometimes behind a bank of reeds or water-hyacinths, looking in the distance like well-kept turf, the forest itself can be seen. The masses of floating hyacinth, as they float down the stream, the muddy water, and the alligators on the banks here and there, with the macaws, flamingoes, and parrots above and around us, complete the picture. Here and there through the creepers there is a narrow archway cut by the Guaraunos, who live behind in huts raised above the swampy ground, and eat, drink, and clothe themselves with the products of the Moriche palm, besides making their roofs of its fronds.

Higher up there is unflooded forest and open country, where the savannahs bear rich grass for thousands of herds of cattle, and on the banks scattered groups of a few houses mark partly civilised settlements. A fine cacao ranch is passed on the right bank not far below Tucupita, the capital of the Delta-Amacuro Territory, a dismal, unhealthy-looking place, though with some signs of commercial life in the number of goletas in front, not to mention steam craft.

Soon after Tucupita the mountains of Guayana come in sight far to the south, and an hour or so brings us to Barrancas, the lowest port on the Orinoco proper, whose grass-grown streets and broad laguna behind the settlement do not suggest health. Here the character of the navigation changes, and one begins that journey, so finely described by Humboldt, up the thousands of miles of waterways, which will conduct the traveller, if he wishes it, through to the Amazon, and even by devious routes to the Plate.

The Delta territory southward of the main stream consists, in part at least, of hilly country, and here on the flanks of the Sierra Imataca there are rich deposits of iron ore, soon to be worked by a Canadian company by whom the rights have recently been acquired. To aid in the work the company has the right to establish a port (Nueva Angostura) with a custom-house on the Caño Corosimo, in order to avoid the long journey up to Ciudad Bolivar and back.

A few miles above Barrancas, on the south bank of the river, is the castle of San Thomé, now known as Guayana Vieja or Los Castillos, where Raleigh had several encounters with the Spaniards on his last fatal expedition. There are only a few houses round the citadel to-day, and the place possesses no importance.