The occurrences on the Putumayo accentuate a moral which is bound to be presented to the conscience of the investing British public. In South America, as in Latin America generally, and in many other parts of the world where aboriginal labour is cheap, great sums of British capital are invested, and a steady stream of gold turns its course therefrom towards the British Isles. But these numerous and complacent shareholders in their comfortable surroundings know nothing, and have not made it their business to care anything, about the conditions of life of the humble workers who produce the dividends. Do they know that their gains are often secured by the labour of ill-paid, half-starved, and often grossly abused brown and black folk? How long does the British shareholder of foreign enterprises expect to live upon the toil of distant “niggers,” who themselves reap little or nothing from the soil upon which they were born? There are approximately £600,000,000 sterling of British money invested in bonds, stock, and shares in South American enterprises, quoted on the London Stock Exchange, which return in the aggregate a steady average dividend of nearly 5 per cent. per annum. Some of these enterprises pay 12, 20, and 25 per cent. interest. Much of this is the result of poor native labour. In various instances what amounts to spoliation is practised upon the cheap labour by British-owned companies. Similar conditions hold good with American concerns—mining and rubber-gathering in Mexico and Central and South America. The Americans are often extremely oppressive to the Indian labourer. In the American-owned copper-mines of Peru serious outbreaks due to this cause have occurred of recent years. The white American foreman rapidly gets used to oppressing the Indian. The miserable conditions of native labour in Latin America ought to be brought home to the directors and shareholders of British and other foreign companies. There are hundreds of rubber, mining, oil, plantation, railway, and other companies with scores of noblemen—lords, dukes, baronets—as well as doctors of science, bankers, and business-men, and even ministers of religion, distributed among their boards of directors. What knowledge have these gentlemen of the conditions of the poor native labourers under their control? There is a grave responsibility, which has been very easily carried, about this system of absentee capitalism.

British investment in and trade with the Latin American countries is an important part of British commercial prosperity. But this trade is not increasing in nearly the same ratio as that of other countries, notably the United States and Germany. In some cases it is falling off. This is due partly to a lack of organisation, and is constantly pointed out in consular and trade reports.[24]

The occurrences on the Putumayo have at least tended to arouse the religious element, if not the commercial conscience, of the British people. A severe indictment of the directors of the Peruvian Amazon Company was made from the pulpit of Westminster Abbey, in August, 1912, in a sermon by Canon Henson. The English directors were denounced by name, and the demand made that they should be arrested and brought to public trial, the preacher stating that he chose that famous pulpit for delivering the indictment in order that the widest possible publicity might be given to the subject. The directors, in the public Press, then made through their solicitors an emphatic and indignant denial of their responsibility, alleging that in the first place they were ignorant of the occurrences, and that when these were shown to have some foundation in fact they voluntarily dispatched a commission to inquire into the matter.

Aroused by the revelations made, several religious missions started to being in London, asking for support by public subscription to enable missionary work to be carried out and stations established in the Peruvian Amazon region. There is a strong religious moral to be drawn from the occurrences. In all probability such a terrible situation would never have grown to being if the fine work of the old Jesuit and Franciscan friars in Brazil and Peru had been allowed to flourish. One of the greatest names associated with the Amazon is that of the famous Padre Samuel Fritz, a Bohemian by birth, who passed the larger part of his life in the service of Spain in Peru as a Jesuit missionary, working from 1686 to 1723, among the Indians of the Amazon forests. Living with the native tribes of the Huallaga, the Napo—which parallels the Putumayo—the Ucayali, and others of the great affluents of the Amazon, this devoted priest carried on his Christianising work, winning the natives to Christianity in a way so remarkable as has never been equalled since. Venturing at length farther down the Amazon into Portuguese territory, Fritz fell ill, and was detained for two years at Para by the Portuguese, who were jealous and fearful of Spanish domination in the Amazon Valley. The Portuguese built forts at the confluence of the Rio Negro, where Manaos now stands, in order to assert their sovereignty over that part of the river, and dispatched armed bands upstream which destroyed the Christian missions and settlements Fritz had founded. The atrocious cruelties practised in these slave-raids, for such in effect they were, caused the tribes to flee to remoter regions, and a great diminution of the population followed in the first half of the eighteenth century. Thus the Portuguese conquistadores accomplished for the Amazon what the Spaniards had performed for the Andine highlands, and what the commercial conquest of rubber-gathering, nominally conducted from London, has accomplished in the twentieth century.

There can be no doubt of the value of religious missions in the Amazon Valley. A mission which should establish itself in these regions ought to be provided with well-appointed launches and motorboats, and to be prepared to exercise a more or less “muscular” kind of Christianity. Between the rival claims that have been advanced for Roman Catholic and Protestant Missions it is difficult to judge. The existing Romish Church in the Andean highlands is a valuable restraining force, but its methods often partake of spoliation of the Indian under the cloak of religion, and of what, as regards certain of its attributes, is practically petty idolatry; whilst the moral character of the village priests leaves much to be desired. There seems little reason why both sects should not exercise their sway. Protestant public worship or proselytising is against the Peruvian laws, but is tolerated. Nevertheless, bitter hostility is shown to it in the upland regions, which are absolutely under priestly control. In the Amazon lowlands and rivers this obstacle would possibly be less formidable.

The occurrences of the Putumayo have aroused public feeling in Lima, where a pro-indigena, or native protection society, has been established, based upon a former, feebler association of similar character; for there has always existed a party protesting against the abuses practised upon the Indians. The change of Government in the Republic has brought promises of betterment. Telegraphic communications to the London Press have announced, on the one hand, that the Peruvian Chambers of Congress have “moved a resolution protesting against the attitude of Great Britain and the United States,” and, on the other, “that inhumanity in the Putumayo has been absolutely abolished.” Apart from electioneering devices, it cannot be doubted that the Government has been aroused. But those acquainted with social conditions in South America will greatly doubt if, apart from mutilations and assassination, the social condition of the Indian will yet be bettered or the ruinous system of peonage replaced by civilised labour conditions. If peonage and forced labour still exist in the more civilised upland regions, as they do, the conditions are not likely to be banished in the Amazon forestal lowlands. The subject must not be allowed to sink into oblivion, and the pressure of public opinion must be sustained.

AN INCIDENT OF THE PUTUMAYO. INDIAN WOMAN CONDEMNED TO DEATH BY HUNGER: ON THE UPPER PUTUMAYO. (The Peruvians state that this was the work of Colombian bandits.) Photo reproduced from “Variedades” of Lima, Peru.
AN INCIDENT OF THE PUTUMAYO.
INDIAN WOMAN CONDEMNED TO DEATH BY HUNGER: ON THE UPPER PUTUMAYO.
(The Peruvians state that this was the work of Colombian bandits.)
Photo reproduced from “Variedades” of Lima, Peru.

If the occurrences which have been exposed lead to an awakening of the commercial conscience as regards investments in countries where poor native labour is employed, and to the consequent betterment of the lot of the humble worker in Latin America, the cruel sacrifice of the poor Indians in the dismal forests of the Putumayo will not have been in vain.

C. Reginald Enock.

CHAPTER II

HARDENBURG’S NARRATIVE: SOURCE OF THE PUTUMAYO

The region traversed by this magnificent river is one of the richest in the world. In the Andes and its upper course it flows through a rich mineral section. At its source, near Pasto, numerous goldmines are being discovered daily and are changing hands rapidly, and there are immense deposits of iron and coal.

Having resigned our positions on the Cauca Railway, my companion W. B. Perkins and myself had set out upon our long-talked-of trip across South America, leaving the town of Buenaventura, on the Pacific coast of Colombia, on October 1, 1907, traversed the successive ranges of the Andes, and had arrived at the little Indian village of Santiago, in the level valley of Sibundoy.

The valley of Sibundoy—once the bed of an ancient lake—is situated in the Cordillera Oriental at an elevation of about 2,300 metres above sea-level, and is some 25 kilometres long by 10 wide. The Putumayo, here but a small, crystal mountain stream, flows through it, rising in one of the numerous peaks that surround the valley on every side. A part of the valley is low and swampy, but the rest is good, rich soil, quite suitable for agricultural purposes, and covered with a thick, short grass. Although all the encircling mountains are clad with forests, the valley is, at present, cleared and ready for cultivation.

In this beautiful Andean valley four distinct villages have sprung up—San Antonio, Santiago, Sibundoy, and San Francisco. Of the first, San Antonio, I can say but little, as it was out of our line of march and we did not have time to visit it; but I understand that it is an Indian village of approximately the same size and characteristics as Santiago. It is connected with Lake Cocha by an Indian trail, which is to be followed more or less by the location of a new mule-road.

Santiago is composed of about fifty houses and a mud church, thatched with palm-leaves, erected by the Capuchins for the conversion and instruction of the Indians. Except for the five or six fathers who conduct the services and an old white hag who had been the compañera[25] of a certain ex-President in the eighties, when he was engaged in business here, the whole population is Indian, and amounts, all told, to probably five hundred. These Indians, although short and small, are tough and strong and are of an agreeable, reddish, coppery hue. The average height of the men seems to be about five feet; the women average from two to four inches less. They are nearly all bright and cheerful, and, as a rule, intelligent, although they sometimes feign stupidity when in contact with whites. Timidity and bashfulness, especially among the women and children, are very common.

Although all, thanks to the fathers, know a little Spanish, among themselves they use their own language exclusively, which seems to be derived from the ancient Quichua of the aborigines of Peru and Ecuador. This language is spoken in a sort of sing-song, soft and melodious, which is rather pleasing to the ear. These aborigines call themselves Incas or Ingas,[26] and their dialect is known as the Inca language, and is rather easily picked up by the whites, who are much in contact with the Incas.

These Indians live in large rectangular houses, the walls of which consist of upright sticks, tied together with bark, the roof being of thatch and the floor of hardened earth. The spaces between the upright sticks that form the walls obviate the necessity for windows. Sometimes, if the house is a large one, several families live in it together, each family having its own corner, fireside, and utensils. The furniture is very limited, and generally consists of benches of various sizes and, sometimes, a low table, all of which are carved out of solid wood, not a nail being used in their construction. Their domestic apparatus is composed chiefly of great earthen pots, which they are very skilful in making; gourds, which serve as plates, cups, &c.; and several large round stones with which they crush their maize.

The dress of the Incas is very picturesque. That of the men consists of a long cotton shirt, either blue or white, which reaches almost to the knees, nearly covering a pair of knee-pants of the same colour and material. Over this is thrown a heavy woollen poncho, always of a greyish-yellow colour, with thin, black stripes, which reaches almost to the feet. Their long, black hair, thick and abundant, takes the place of a hat, and is prevented from dangling in the face by a gaily coloured ribbon or a piece of the inner bark of the tree known to them as huimba, which passes around the crown of the head just above the ears. The women invariably wear a red shirt, the lower extremity of which is covered by a short black skirt, reaching to the knees. A bright red blanket, thrown over their shoulders, completes their costume, for, as a rule, they do not wear the headband used by the men. Both sexes are very fond of beads, and generally have an immense necklace of them, while smaller strings are worn on the wrists and ankles.

The chief, or gobernador, is elected with great formality once a year. Then the retiring magistrate, in the presence of the whole tribe, hands over to his successor the silver-headed cane which has been since time immemorial the emblem of authority amongst the Incas. The chief’s house is always distinguished by a decoration of palm-leaves over the door, for all business with the whites is done through him, disputes between Indians are settled by him, and he possesses the power of punishment. The punishment is generally a whipping or confinement in stocks, which are always kept in the chief’s house.

The food of these aborigines consists chiefly of maize, collards, and game. From the maize they manufacture their peculiar mazata, which is their principal aliment, for they eat it morning, noon, and night, the collards and the game they shoot being merely auxiliaries. The maize is first scalded in one of the great earthen jars, after which, when cool, a certain proportion of it is thoroughly chewed until it is well mixed with the saliva. In this important operation the whole family, both young and old, takes part, seated in a circle around the huge pot of scalded maize, each one provided with a smaller gourd, into which they shoot the well-masticated mixture of maize and saliva. This operation concluded, the next step is to mix thoroughly the salivated maize with the other, and the whole mass is then deposited in the large earthen jars, where it is allowed to ferment for several days under the action of the organic principles of the saliva. The mixture is then preserved in this state, and when they wish to prepare their beverage they merely take out a handful of this preparation, reduce it to a paste, stir it in water, and their drink is ready. This mazata has a sour, bitter taste, very palatable to the Indian, but disgusting to most white men.

Their arms consist chiefly of blow-guns or bodoquedas, although at present shot-guns and machetes are beginning to be introduced among them. These blow-guns are not manufactured by the Incas, but are bought by them from the Indians of Mocoa, who obtain them from the Cioni Indians of the Upper Putumayo. The Cionis, in turn, are supplied with them by the Indians of the River Napo, who are the original manufacturers. This celebrated weapon is a hollow, tapering pole, from two to four metres long, pierced longitudinally by a hole some three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter. The outside surface of the pole is wound around with thin strips of tough bark, over which is applied a smooth, black coating of gum-resin from the arbol del lacre, or sealing-wax tree, while the thicker end terminates in a mouthpiece, into which a small arrow, some twenty centimetres long and tipped with a little cotton instead of a feather, is introduced. The mouth is then applied to the mouthpiece, and with the breath the little arrow is shot out with great force to a distance of from thirty to forty metres.

These arrows, apparently so insignificant, are in reality awful in their effects, for their points are tipped with the celebrated curaré, made from the Strychnos castelmœana, called by them ramu, and from the Cocculus toxicoferus, known to these aborigines as pani. The points are often cut, so as to break off after penetrating the skin and stay in the wound. A puncture of the skin by one of these arrows causes death within a minute, for I have seen a large dog struck by one of these little missiles drop dead before he could run five metres. Like the bodoqueda itself, these little arrows reach the Incas only after passing through the hands of several tribes, and are generally carried in a small bamboo quiver, to which is tied a little gourd filled with cotton. It is interesting to note that although the curaré with which the arrows are tipped is a deadly poison, it has absolutely no injurious effect upon the game killed by it. In many respects this weapon is superior to the shot-gun, but its great advantage is its noiselessness. Thus, a hunter can kill bird after bird without fear of their becoming alarmed and flying away. The Indians can shoot very accurately with the bodoqueda up to about thirty metres.

On the 16th the gobernador, with whom my companion Perkins and myself stayed, told us that the Indians had finished preparing their habío[27] and were ready to depart; so, after seeing them load up, we bade adios to the gobernador and at 11 a.m. started for Sibundoy. The road was tolerably good, consisting in many places of logs, laid transversely across the way, and skirted the edge of the surrounding mountains a little above the level of the valley, of which we would have had an excellent view but for the dense underbrush which interposed itself between the valley and us. On our march we crossed several beautiful little quebradas, whose clear, crystal waters glistened brilliantly in the sun; but our appreciation of their beauty was somewhat diminished by the fact that as nobody in the whole valley wears shoes there were no bridges over them, and we were obliged to wade through their cold, icy waters, wetting ourselves up to the knees in doing so.

After a march of some three hours we entered Sibundoy, a village of about the same size and appearance as Santiago, where we made our way to the Capuchin convent, determining to wait here for our Indians. We were kindly received by the four priests here, as well as by the Padre Prefecto, the head of all the Capuchin establishments in the territories of the Caquetá and the Putumayo, who makes this place his headquarters. One of the fathers, Padre Estanislao de Los Corts, a Spaniard from Cataluña, was especially kind, and, after showing us around the new convent they were building, supplied us with the following data about the Indians of Sibundoy:—

The Indians of Sibundoy call themselves Cochas and speak a language of the same name, which is quite distinct from the Inca and much more complex and difficult. The Cochas are said to be lazier, more dishonest, and of a surlier disposition than the Incas, although resembling them very much in appearance, customs, dress, and mode of living. It is believed that these Indians were brought here long ago by the Spaniards from the River Vaupes as slaves for the goldmines of Pasto and that, escaping from their captors in this vicinity, they finally settled in the valley. They now number about 1,500, the greater part, however, living in lone huts in the mountains.

We remained at the convent waiting for the Indians all the afternoon, but as they did not appear we were glad to accept the Padre Prefecto’s pressing invitation to stop here for the night. The priests told us that the cargadores[28] had probably gone to their homes to enjoy a last farewell feast before beginning the trip to Mocoa, which we afterwards found to be the case. The convent was scrupulously clean and fitted up roughly and simply, for nearly everything had been made by the fathers themselves. The food was plain and coarse, but substantial and well cooked, one of the priests skilfully performing this important operation.

The next morning at eight o’clock the two Indians who were to carry our food, blankets, &c., put in their appearance, looking somewhat seedy and informing us that the others were coming later. They were accompanied by a pretty little Indian girl, carrying their habío, who they said was their sister. The padre, however, suspected immorality and, as a precautionary measure, bade them go to church. This over, we sent them on ahead in charge of Pedro, with orders to wait for us at the next village—San Francisco—while we stopped a little longer to take lunch with the padres.

Lunch concluded, we duly thanked the hospitable Capuchins for their kindness to us and once more set out. After a pleasant walk of about two hours we reached San Francisco, where we were cordially received by the head priest, whom we had met at Sibundoy, and installed in the convent, where we found Pedro and the Indians. San Francisco is a little, triste place of some two hundred inhabitants, who claim to be whites, but, except for the fact that they wore hats and trousers, I could see but little difference between them and the infieles. There are two or three small shops and about twenty other houses, most of which were of adobe.

Bright and early the next morning we set out along the level valley, which we followed for some time until we struck the Putumayo, here a small, swift-flowing mountain torrent, about six feet wide. Crossing it, we continued along its heavily wooded banks until we came to a small affluent on the left, which we followed up to its source. Climbing to the top of the hill, we found ourselves upon a sort of divide, which we slowly descended by an almost perpendicular trail over huge, slippery rocks and rolling cobble-stones to the bottom of a deep, narrow cañon, formed by another small, torrential quebrada. All the rest of the day we followed the course of this stream, which we crossed no less than thirty-four times. Occasionally the cañon, always steep and narrow, became merely vertical walls of rock, rising from the edge of the stream upwards to a height of from fifty to a hundred metres. In these places we were compelled to wade down the bed of the stream, while on other occasions the trail, about six inches wide, passed along the perpendicular face of some wet, slippery rock, forty or fifty feet above the river. How the Indians passed such places, carrying the heavy bultos[29] that weighed from eighty to a hundred pounds, is beyond my comprehension, nor have I any desire to make that day’s journey again to find out.

At about six o’clock we reached the junction of this stream with another of about the same size, where they combine to form the River Patoyacu. Here we stopped at a tolerable rancho, Perkins and I utterly exhausted, but the two Indians and the girl apparently as fresh as ever. Neither Perkins nor myself suffered from sleeplessness that night, although a large, flat rock was our only couch.

The next morning, as soon as our rather frugal meal of dry meat, coffee, and fried plantains was over, we crossed the Patoyacu and began the ascent of a monstrous mountain, the top of which we reached at about two o’clock in the afternoon. The rest of the day was spent in a constant succession of long, steep, painful ascents to the tops of the mountains, and immediately afterwards long, steep, painful descents to the bottoms, where, crossing some insignificant quebrada[30] we would sit and rest a few minutes before starting on the next climb. While taking lunch at one of these streams, Perkins noticed some peculiar-looking rocks, which, upon examination, seemed to indicate the existence of a good quality of marble. We took along several specimens for further examination.

The scenery is magnificent, of a wild, savage splendour, rarely seen elsewhere than in the Andes. The high, heavily wooded mountains, rising almost perpendicularly to the clouds, are separated from each other by foaming, plunging quebradas, which, dashing themselves into spray against the immense boulders that form their beds, leap over the numerous precipices in their courses with a deep, resounding roar like distant thunder.

We endeavoured to reach a rancho[31] called Papagallos, but, when darkness overtook us, we were still far from it, according to our Indians, so we hastily made a rough rancho and, after about an hour and a half, succeeded in igniting a fire, for it had rained during the afternoon and everything was completely soaked. The fire, at last successfully started, was just beginning to flicker up and give out a little heat, when suddenly another heavy rain set in and, within fifteen minutes, our hard-won fire was out and we and all our belongings were wet through. As the rain continued steadily until morning and the cold all this time was intense, we did not pass a very enjoyable night.

The next day was only a tiresome repetition of the one already described—up and down all day. How many miles we made I do not know, but I can state that, whatever their number, they were mostly on end. At 9 a.m. we passed Papagallos and at about 2 p.m. we commenced a long, steep descent of nearly 2,000 metres, the bottom of which we reached at about half-past four. Here we found the two small ranchos, known as Cascabel, and stopped for the night. These two ranchos were situated upon the left bank of the River Campucana, a good-sized stream formed by the various quebradas we had crossed. We had now passed the last of the mountains, for from this place to Puerto Guineo, the port of embarkation, it is practically level. We had at last crossed the Andes, and were now upon the great Atlantic Slope.

In the morning we followed the left bank of the Campucana for some time, scaling successfully on the way the famous “Carniceria,”[32] a very dangerous rock, high, slippery, and almost perpendicular, so-called because of the numerous people dashed to death down it. At ten o’clock, while crossing the river, we met Don Elias Jurado, Leonardo’s brother, en route to Pasto—the first traveller we had met since leaving that city. Continuing our journey through the dense forest, at one o’clock we reached Piedra Lisa,[33] another dangerous rock, along whose smooth, unbroken front, which stood at an angle of about fifty-five or sixty degrees, the trail passed. The passage of this rock, which is about fifty metres long, is very perilous and would be impassable were it not for some overhanging branches which one can grasp and hold on by.

Piedra Lisa safely passed, the road continued fairly level, although very muddy on account of the thick undergrowth, and at three o’clock we entered Pueblo Viejo, a long string of scattered bamboo houses, intermingled with fields of maize, plantains and yuca, and large tracts of practically virgin forest. At one of these huts we stopped to take a few minutes’ rest; the people received us very affably and immediately brought out a large jug of chicha,[34] which we soon emptied for them. After a little conversation about the probability of our getting lost in the “city” (of Mocoa), we again pushed on, and at four o’clock in the afternoon of November 21st reached Mocoa in a state of complete exhaustion.

Here, after a great deal of inquiry, we secured a very dirty room in a still dirtier bamboo hut. Leaving our effects here, Perkins and I went to the little crystal stream, known as the Quebrada Mulata, which dashes past the back of the town, and indulged in a good bath. By the time we had finished this operation, the indefatigable Pedro had ascertained the whereabouts of the “restaurant,” to which we immediately wended our way, for we were starving. After we had finished our dinner, which did not take very long, for it was composed only of a quantity of unripe plantains, a still larger quantity of overdone yucas, and a little thin, tasteless coffee, we invested in a couple of bottles of wine and, retiring to our hut, Perkins, Pedro, and I duly congratulated one another on the successful termination of the first stage of our journey—the trip over the Andes. This duty performed, we retired to dream of our approaching descent of the Putumayo.

The next morning we called upon the Intendente, General Urdaneta, and presented to him the letter from Dr. Miranda. He received us very cordially and promised us that he would see that we had cargadores by Monday to take us to Puerto Guineo. After a pleasant conversation of almost an hour and a half, during which he supplied us with considerable information about Mocoa and the Putumayo, we left him and went out to take a look at the city. At noon we met him again at the restaurant, where he introduced us to Dr. Ricardo Escobar, the medical officer of the garrison here.

Mocoa is the capital of the territory of the Putumayo, an immense tract of land comprising the whole region between the Rivers Napo and Putumayo from Mocoa to the Atlantic. This rich section is also claimed by Peru and Ecuador. The dispute between these two countries has been submitted to the King of Spain for arbitration; and the country that gains his decision will then have to arrange the matter with Colombia. There are no Ecuadorians established as yet in any part of this vast territory, the upper half of which, as far down as Remolino, is occupied by the Colombians, while the Peruvians are in possession from there to the Brazilian boundary at the mouth of the Cotuhué, for Brazil, with her usual astuteness, has seized a large triangular area at the confluence with the Amazon. The part of the territory at present occupied by Colombia is under the jurisdiction of the Department of Nariño, and all officers and officials are appointed from Pasto.

The capital of this huge territory is a small town of bamboo huts having a population of about five hundred. Until recently it was the place of confinement of political prisoners, but about a month before our arrival President Reyes had pardoned all but nine, who had been sent out of the country by way of the Putumayo, the Government’s agent, Don Rogerio Becerra, conducting them as far as Remolino, where they had been released.

As the maintenance of these prisoners and the garrison had been the chief industry, the exile of the former and the withdrawal of the latter, which was taking place when we arrived, was causing a general exodus to Pasto. A small traffic with the rubber-collectors of the Upper Putumayo and the neighbouring Indians is, however, still carried on. Agriculture, stock-raising, &c., are developed only sufficiently to supply the small local demands, for the inaccessibility of the place prohibits any large trade with outside markets.

The climate of Mocoa is agreeable and healthy, and the land, level and covered with thick forest, is fertile and well adapted to agriculture. The temperature is about 20° C. and the elevation above sea-level is approximately five hundred metres. One very attractive feature of this vicinity is the complete absence of mosquitos and gnats. From Mocoa one can see, blue in the distance, the mighty, towering peaks of the Cordillera Oriental, which, rising high above the unbroken wall of forest that surrounds the town, seem to pierce the very sky.

A good mule-road or highway connection with Pasto and La Sofía, the head of steam navigation on the Putumayo, would do much to awaken Mocoa from the torpor into which it is now plunged; for, in that way, this virgin region would have an outlet not only for the important forest products such as rubber, ivory, &c., but also for the valuable agricultural staples, as coffee, cotton, yuca, sugar-cane, and the thousand other products of the tierra caliente,[35] which can be grown here. Besides, the opening of these means of communication would greatly facilitate immigration to this vast region, which is the most essential aid to its development.

An interesting plant, very much in evidence here, is the achiote[36] or urucú. This is a small tree, yielding a fruit, which is encased in a red berry, resembling in shape that of a chestnut. This fruit, when crushed, gives out a bright red juice, which is used by the whites to dye clothes with and to colour soups, meat, &c. The Indians, in addition to using it in this way, also employ it to paint themselves with.

The Indians of Mocoa are also Incas, the same as those of Santiago. They speak the same tongue, have the same customs, houses, arms, and utensils, differing only in the dress, which, on account of the heat, consists only of a long, black or white cotton shirt, almost concealing a pair of knee-pants of the same colour and material, and in their food, which is more diversified and comprises not only maize, &c., but also yuca, plantains, and many forest products. Like the Incas of Santiago, they also profess Christianity and have a limited knowledge of Spanish. These Indians are very ugly and do not possess the good features, clear skin, and physical endurance which so characterise their brothers of the mountains. Many of them suffer from the carate,[37] so prevalent in the Cauca Valley, and, consequently, present a most repugnant appearance.

The following incident illustrates the superstition of these aborigines. One day Pedro and I went to an Indian house to buy some souvenirs. Here, the aged owner of the hut had an old, worthless bodoqueda[38] that he wished to sell me, and insisted so strongly upon my buying it that I lost patience and spoke to him rather harshly. Instantly one of our Santiago Indians, who seemed to have taken rather a liking to me, called me aside and implored me not to offend the old Indian, who was a noted brujo or wizard, for, if I did, he would surely visit some fearful punishment upon me, such as making me blind or insane, or even worse. Although I laughed and explained to him that the wizard was nothing but an old fraud and could do me no harm, the good fellow could not be convinced, but still clung to his belief. Such superstitions are very common among all these aborigines.

During the next two days only three of our Santiago Indians showed up, thus delaying us in the same manner as they had done at Pasto and at Sibundoy. In this interval we made the acquaintance of Don Octavio Materón, a junior partner in a company, formed in Pasto, for the purpose of cultivating rubber on the Upper Putumayo. The manager, Don Gabriel Martínez, to whom Jurado had given us a letter of introduction, had, we learned, gone down in his capacity as corregidor to the Caraparaná, leaving Materón and the other partner, Gonzalez, in charge. Materón had come to Mocoa to bring down some bultos of merchandise that had been delayed here, and, finding that we were going his way, kindly decided to wait for us.

On Monday morning, November 25th, the Indians sent by the Intendente arrived, ready to take our effects to Guineo. As there were still two bultos lacking, we decided that Perkins and Pedro should go on with the five bultos that were ready and await my arrival in Guineo, while I remained in Mocoa to take down the other two bultos as soon as the cargadores should arrive with them. So, bidding goodbye to Perkins and Pedro and arranging with the remaining Indians to return in three or four days, I resumed my weary task of waiting.

As we had been informed that it would be necessary to purchase a canoe here, I made several inquiries and at last was directed to one Bernardo Ochoa, a lean, bilious-looking aguardiente[39]-merchant, a victim of the carate, who had a canoe in Guineo that he would sell. I did not fancy buying a canoe without seeing it, but, as both Materón and the Intendente assured me that it was large, well-preserved, and quite worth sixty dollars “hard,” I began negotiations with the man, who at first asked one hundred dollars, but, after a great deal of haggling, finally sold it to me for eighty dollars “hard.” At the same time I bought a small barrel of aguardiente, as I was told that it would greatly facilitate intercourse, not only with the Indians, but also with the “whites” who inhabit the region.

On Wednesday morning, at about 9 a.m., Dr. Escobar came in and informed me that a messenger had just arrived from Pasto with an order to arrest Pedro and send him back to Cali. Completely amazed by this intelligence, I went to the Intendente, who showed me the order and informed me that he had already sent two soldiers to Guineo to arrest the boy and bring him back. As we had taken Pedro from the railway and had stayed several days in Cali and Popayán and several weeks in Pasto, without any attempt having been made to arrest him, I could only think that it was some mistake, so I made a few guarded suggestions to the General, but without the slightest effect.

In the afternoon I set about hiring another boy to take Pedro’s place, and after some time succeeded in engaging a stupid, torpid-looking youth, to whom I offered a couple of pounds to clinch the bargain. What was my surprise then to see him come back in a couple of hours and, with tears in his eyes and in a voice trembling with fear, beg me to let him off. Upon investigation, I found that some wretch had filled his weak head full of bloodcurdling yarns about the cannibal Indians and the decimating fevers met with there. The poor fool was in such a miserable state of fear and dismay that, upon his paying back the money I had advanced him, I was glad to let him go.

On the following afternoon I was agreeably surprised to see the two cargadores from Santiago arrive with the two remaining bultos. Finding that they were intact—for the Indians often steal part of the contents of the bultos—I paid the two rascals and sent word to the Mocoa cargadores that four of them should come in the morning to take us to Puerto Guineo.

Shortly after I had arranged this matter the soldiers arrived with Pedro, who seemed to be quite knocked up with the long march and the gloomy prospects of the tedious journey before him. Shaking hands with the poor boy to encourage him a little, I asked what it was that he had done. He protested his innocence of any wrongdoing so stoutly that, convinced that there must be an error somewhere, I again went to the Intendente, but he was determined to carry out his orders, and I could do nothing with him. Returning to Pedro, I endeavoured to cheer him up a little, but without much success. After writing him a good reference, I paid him off, and, with a last adios left the poor boy alone in his dismal cell. I never saw nor heard from him since.

In the morning, as soon as the cargadores put in their appearance, I loaded them up with the two bultos, the barrel of aguardiente, and our food and hammocks, &c., while Materón did the same with his, after which we took our leave of the Intendente and the simpático Dr. Escobar, and began the last stage of our overland journey.

The morning was fine and invigorating, and we pushed on rapidly, crossing many fine, sparkling quebradas, which wound their way softly through the dense, tropical forest that covers the Amazon Basin from the Andes to the Atlantic. As we made our way along the level path, we frequently stopped to examine some strange plant, to pursue some rare butterfly, or to shoot some new bird, whose brilliant plumage or sweet notes attracted our attention. Just before noon we passed a “cave,” a great, long, overhanging rock, in some places of such a height as to permit us to stand erect under it, and reached a large, sparkling stream, where, seated on a great rock, overspread by the protecting shade of the forest, we had our lunch.

VEGETATION ON THE PERUVIAN AMAZON. To face p. 74.
VEGETATION ON THE PERUVIAN AMAZON.
To face p. 74.

The traveller, entering for the first time these gloomy forests, as yet untouched by the hand of man, is bewildered by the splendour and magnificence of a superabundant vegetation. Indeed, it is impossible to give any exact idea of the immense variety of the thick-growing plants and of the incessant activity of Nature in their development. The dense vegetation accumulates and piles up, forming, especially on the banks of the streams and rivers, opaque masses, perfectly impenetrable, through which the sun’s rays never pierce. The high giants of the forest tower above everything, the smaller trees and the shrubs crowd under their branches, while the numerous vines and bejucos knit the whole into one solid mass.

In the afternoon we reached a cross which marked the divergence of our road into two trails, one going to Puerto Limon on the Caquetá, and the other to Puerto Guineo on the River Guineo, an affluent of the Putumayo. This cross is about six leagues from Mocoa and the same distance from Limon and Guineo. Some distance beyond, we stopped for the night in a couple of small ranchos built about a month before by the soldiers who escorted the exiles to the port. Here we passed a fairly comfortable night, well protected from the torrential downpour which took place shortly after our arrival here and continued all night.

In the morning we found the trail wet and muddy and the vegetation, through which we were obliged to wade, soaked us completely, so we removed our shoes and clothes and put on alpargatas and pyjamas. These we found lighter and much more comfortable, and in this garb we continued the rest of our journey. Soon the trail became worse and the small, shallow quebradas became rushing, brawling torrents, through which we were, in some cases, almost obliged to swim. The Indians, in these places, grasped hands and waded through together, carrying the bultos on their heads. At first I trembled for my poor possessions when they did this, but I soon perceived that they knew their business, and did not interfere with them.

Towards the end of the journey the trail passed along the banks of the Guineo River, normally a quiet, meandering stream not over two feet deep, but now a swollen, dangerous torrent. We experienced some difficulty in crossing several of its numerous tributaries, but, after what seemed an eternity, we reached Guineo at one o’clock in a state of complete exhaustion.

Here we found Perkins comfortably installed in an old bamboo hut known as the “convent,” where the priests from Mocoa generally stop when they come down to Guineo to preach to the Indians. We soon discovered our old railway enemies, the moscas or gnats, which made me feel quite at home. But a still worse misfortune was revealed to us when Perkins, who was preparing some food for Materón and me, informed us that all the bread was spoiled, having probably got wet on the Páramo of Bordoncillo. We braced up considerably, however, when he dished us out a hearty meal of fried yuca, plantains, sausage, and panela, and after a couple of hours’ rest felt quite restored.

We then went out, and, through an Indian to whom I delivered a letter Ochoa had supplied me with, ordering the transfer of the canoe to me, had a look at our vessel. We found it to be a good river-going craft, about nine metres long and something over one metre wide, and in a tolerable state of preservation, being made of cedar, which is the best wood for the purpose.

TROPICAL VEGETATION ON THE AFFLUENTS OF THE PERUVIAN AMAZON. [To face p. 76.
TROPICAL VEGETATION ON THE AFFLUENTS OF THE PERUVIAN AMAZON.
[To face p. 76.

These canoes or pituches, which, as a rule, measure from six to ten metres in length, are made from a single log of wood, hollowed out by the adze, or, as with some Indians, by fire. Cedar[40] is the favourite wood, for it is light, easily worked, and very durable. When this cannot be obtained, however, various other kinds of trees are employed, such as caoba or aguano,[41] palo-rosa or lauro-rosa,[42] palo-maria,[43] catagua or assacú,[44] and itauba.[45] But none of these woods are equal to cedar, for either they do not resist the action of the water so well, or else are so heavy that they make the canoe cumbersome and dangerous to navigation.

We next bought a couple of paddles from the Indians, and our naval equipment was then complete. The paddles in use in this region by both whites and Indians are generally only about a metre and a half in length, with wide, rounded blades, which facilitate rowing in shallow water. Oars such as are used in oar-locks would be quite useless here on account of the numerous stumps and logs in the rivers and along their banks and chiefly the cargo, which often takes up nearly all the inside of the canoe. Many of these paddles are constructed of fine wood, well finished and painted and varnished to a degree.

The only other building at Puerto Guineo, in addition to the convent, is an old, dilapidated church, both of which stand on the bank of the river in a small clearing sowed with plantain-trees. As already stated, the priests of Mocoa often come down to Guineo for a few days at a time to preach to the aborigines, and the convent and church were built by the Indians, partly for the convenience of the padres and partly as a sort of monument to their own importance. Like the convent, the church is of bamboo with an earthen floor and a thatched roof, upon which some vegetation was beginning to present itself. Inside were a few crude pictures of saints, and behind the altar stood a cross with a ghastly figure of the Crucifixion upon it. A few cheap altar-cloths and the remains of several used-up candles completed the outfit, the whole of which was entirely covered and wound up with numerous cobwebs.

In the midst of the dense forest, surrounding these neglected relics of civilisation, live a tribe of Indians who call themselves Cionis and speak a language of the same name. They are quite distinct from the Incas, and occupy the whole region of the Upper Putumayo, living in small villages of from ten to fifty families along its banks. In all, they do not number over a thousand. But they all speak more or less Spanish, with the peculiarity that the only form of the verb they use is the gerund.

These Indians are short, broad, and strong, but generally lazy and shiftless. Like the Mocoa branch of the Incas, nearly all of them suffer from carate. The ugly and unusual custom of pulling out the eyebrows, eye-lashes, &c., and cutting the hair short is observed by both sexes. The women are, if possible, uglier than the men, which is saying a good deal, but the latter endeavour to compensate for this by painting their faces blue and pink. The ordinary designs used for this purpose are geometrical figures and branches of trees, &c.

Another very common custom is that of piercing the ears and the dividing wall of the nose with small bamboo tubes coloured a bright shining black, and frequently from ten to fifteen centimetres in length and nearly one centimetre in thickness. They also generally wear upon each arm, just between the shoulder and the elbow, a sort of bracelet, made of fibres from the leaf of the chambira[46] palm, the loose ends of which reach almost to the wrist—this is supposed to ward off attacks of rheumatism and other similar complaints.

Their dress is very simple, and consists merely of a long shirt called cushma, of black or white cotton—although generally the latter—which is worn by both men and women. The only difference between the men’s cushma and the women’s is that in the former the opening that admits the head is vertical and runs down along the bosom, while in the latter it is horizontal and reaches from shoulder to shoulder. This garment resembles nothing so much as a night-shirt without sleeves.

The Cionis are also excessively fond of beads, and the amount of them they wear is astounding; in fact, they are so numerous as to totally conceal their necks, the lower parts of their ears, and most of their shoulders. These beads, which often weigh from ten to fifteen pounds, are only removed when the Indians go to bed, bathe, &c. Besides these they generally wear several necklaces of monkey or danta teeth and a string or so of the bright, red-spotted-with-black seeds of the huairuro or quairor,[47] which they wear as a sort of talisman.

The houses of these Indians are, like those of the Incas, large, rectangular structures, the walls of which are formed either of upright poles tied together with the bark of the sacha-huasca or the tamshi, or else of slabs of split bamboo or palms, such as the chonta,[48] the camona or huacrapona[49] and the tarapoto,[50] whose thick, almost hollow trunks, when split, form large durable planks, quite suitable for different purposes. The roofs are of thatch, for which the leaves of the yarina[51] or vegetable-ivory tree are generally used. Several families, as a rule, live in the same house, each, however, having its own corner, fireside, and utensils.

Their furniture is limited to hammocks of their own manufacture and little low stools either carved out of solid wood or else made from slabs of bamboo or the above-mentioned palm-trees. Overhead several light cross-timbers are stretched, upon which they hang their clothes, their arms, and many domestic utensils. As they generally eat with their fingers, knives and forks are unknown, while for spoons they employ certain shells or small gourds. As dishes they use the easily prepared fruits of the totuma or cuyera,[52] which, by the simple operation of cutting open and cleaning out, form convenient receptacles for their food. For cooking they employ the earthen pots similar to those of the Incas; in the manufacture of these pots and the subsequent painting and varnishing of them the Cionis exhibit great skill.

Other utensils are—fans, various-sized baskets, rude drums, chambira-palm-fibre bags, little clay ovens to bake fariña in, fishing-nets, whistles made of the leg-bones of different birds, fifes made of bamboo, and torches of the heart of the maguey or of chonta, impregnated with resin, &c. For washing their clothes, hair, &c., they use the inner bark of a tree called the quillay and a soapy substance known as suyuyu.

Each of their villages seems to be absolutely independent of the others, and, like the Incas, elects annually, with great solemnity, its chief or gobernador, who has about the same powers as among those aborigines. In addition to the gobernador, there is a sort of lieutenant-governor, called the capitán, who acts as a sort of auxiliary to the chief and takes his place when the latter is absent.

These Indians are now lazy and peaceful, and the inter-village wars, formerly frequent and sanguinary in the extreme, are now, thanks to the teachings of the priests and the Colombian settlers, a thing of the past. Their arms, which are now used only for hunting, consist merely of machetes and shot-guns, obtained from the Colombians, and the bodoquedas or cerbatanas, already described, which they get, in exchange for their hammocks, from the Indians of the Napo.

Their food is much more diversified than that of the Santiago Indians, for, in addition to the numerous forest products, such as the papaya,[53] the lime,[54] the caimito,[55] marañon,[56] the pishuayo,[57] bread-fruit,[58] the tender tops of the chonta, the camona, &c., hunting is excellent here, and many are the animals that fall victims to their skill. Among these we may mention, as the most important, the danta or sacha-vaca[59] which lives in shady swamps; the chancho del monte or huangana,[60] which is a kind of peccary that lives in herds in the depths of the forest; the ronsoco or capivara,[61] a large amphibious rodent; the venado or deer,[62] of which there are several species; several kinds of monkeys, such as the guaribas, the cotomonos, and the maquisapas; the sloth[63]; the armadillo[64]; and various others. They also hunt wild birds of many different species and sizes, such as the paujiles, wild-ducks, partridges, wild-turkeys, various kinds of doves, &c. To all these we must add the numerous different kinds of fine fish, which they catch at all seasons of the year, especially in the dry season. Among the most important of these are palometas, corbinas, bagres, boquichicos, gamitanas, cunchis, dorados, &c.

For fishing they use nets made of chambira-palm fibre, spears and hooks manufactured from hard wood or thorns, which they bait with larvæ or with the fruit of the setico[65] tree. Besides these, they frequently employ the celebrated barbasco.[66] Selecting some pool or quiet corner of the river, they drop a quantity of the crushed leaves and root of this plant into the water, which shortly assumes a milky hue and soon poisons the fish, both large and small. Directly the whole surface of the pool becomes covered with the dead bodies of the fish, of which the largest only are selected, the rest, including the millions of tiny fish, thus being killed and left to rot without being utilised at all. On other occasions they often take advantage of the pools left when the river goes down in the dry season, the fish imprisoned in them being either speared or caught in nets.

Besides these sources of food, the women cultivate a few plantain-trees,[67] a little maize,[68] and the invaluable yuca or manioc, from which they manufacture their two most popular alimentary products, mazata and fariña. There are two kinds of yuca—the wild-yuca or yuca brava[69] and the cultivated variety,[70] both of which are very much used in the whole Amazon Valley. The former contains, however, besides its nutritive elements, a milky sap, which is one of the most virulent vegetable poisons known, its active principle being hydrocyanic acid, but, as the sap is volatile, it is easily removed from the farine by means of pressure and evaporation.

In the preparation of the mazata, the favourite beverage of these Indians, the yuca is peeled and boiled in but little water in one of their large pots, after which it is smashed to paste by means of a club. This process concluded, the next step is to take out a proper proportion of this mass and mix it with saliva, in the same manner as the Incas do with their scalded maize. The yuca thus prepared is then well mixed with the other, the pot is carefully covered, and the preparation is left to ferment several days, when it is ready for consumption. This mazata does not differ much in taste from the maize-mazata of the Incas.

The civilised inhabitants of this region prepare this beverage in a less repugnant and more hygienic way—that is, they add to the paste sugar-cane juice or the juice of a ripe plantain, in place of the saliva.

In preparing the fariña, the yuca is thrown into a trough filled with water and left there until it is in a state of semi-putrefaction, when it is taken out, peeled, and pulverised. If it is the cultivated variety, it is then dried and put through a roasting process upon hot plates, but if it is the yuca brava, the poisonous sap must first be removed. To do this, the yuca, already pulverised, is wrapped up in a good-sized piece of llanchama—the tough, inner bark of a tree of the same name—which is then twisted up and tightened with a stick, after the fashion of a tourniquet, until the sap is all pressed out and evaporated. It is then dried and roasted in the same way as the other yuca.

This fariña can be preserved for a long time if kept dry, and it forms one of the chief articles of food of many of the inhabitants of the Amazon, especially when they are travelling. It is eaten either dry with water or, best of all, with milk and sugar, when it becomes an agreeable, as well as a wholesome, article of food.

The Cionis are very skilful in the manufacture of the light, durable, and beautiful hammocks, which they use in place of beds, from the strong fibres of the leaves of the cambira-palm. They often spend months upon the fabrication of a single hammock, first collecting the leaves, next extracting the fibres, then twisting them into long strings, and finally weaving the strings into a hammock. One of these hammocks can be rolled up until it occupies only the space of a fair-sized book, and it is so durable that it will last for years.

They also exhibit marvellous patience and skill in making the insect, feather, and shell ornaments that they wear on their feast-days. One especially interesting ornament is the yacta, a beautiful crown, composed of a great variety of fine large red and yellow plumes, inlaid with so many small feathers of so many different kinds and colours that it is a veritable work of art.

Another common ornament is a long string of brilliantly coloured feathers, which is worn around the neck. They also collect the bright green wings of a large insect, very common in these parts, of which, after a sufficient supply has been obtained, they make a similar string, which also encircles the neck. In addition to all these, which are worn only on special occasions, they generally have several bracelets, anklets, &c., of gaily coloured woollen yarns or locks of hair.

At their dances, the music of which is furnished by drums, whistles, and fifes of their own manufacture, they always wear a quantity of cascabeles, which are nothing more than strings of the dried fruits of the schacapa[71]. These cascabeles they attach to their legs and waist in such a manner as to produce a rattling, tinkling noise at every step they take.

Other very interesting products of the industry of these aborigines are the fine combs, made of carefully arranged and polished thorns, tied together with eccentrically coloured threads. Some of these combs are really splendid pieces of workmanship.

A thorough and extensive knowledge of the uses and properties of the countless products of the forest is also possessed by the Cionis. Thus, for example, the root of a certain bejuco[72], which they call yoco, is their substitute for coffee; from another bejuco they extract a narcotic known to them as ayahuasca or yajén, the effects of which are similar to those of hasheesh and opium; the leaves of the huitoc or jagua[73] are used to cure itching and all erysipelatic diseases, as well as to protect them from the gnats and mosquitoes; and thousands of other trees, shrubs, and bejucos supply them with almost everything they need or desire.