he has fully recounted in his Autobiography,[45] recently published in this country.

CHAPTER XXIV.

SCENES AT THE PASS OF APURITO.

On our arrival at Apurito, we found the river quite swollen with the recent showers and already extending from bank to bank. The first business was to select among our men and horses the strongest and most capable of enduring the fatigue and of guiding through the boisterous waves of the Apure the various lots into which the cattle were divided for the purpose. Our next step was to assemble at the pass a sufficient number of canoes with expert paddlers to act in concert with the leading men and horses, by flanking the swimmers in the river. Two long palisades, running parallel down to the bank of the river and narrowing toward the water, had already been constructed; through these the animals, in lots of two hundred at a time, were driven at full speed, with deafening shouts and earnest goading, while two men, stripped naked and mounted on two spirited horses without saddles, headed the movement, plunging headlong into the river pell-mell with the cattle, which were thus encouraged to swim across. A herd of tame animals was stationed on the opposite shore to incorporate the swimmers as they came out of the water. Having done this, the leaders swam back to procure another lot of animals, a feat they performed for about twenty successive times in the course of the day. Nevertheless, the task was not so easily accomplished as was practised with the horses; for it often happened that the bulls became quite refractory and pugnacious, in which case the men in the canoes were obliged to hold them by the horns, dragging them along by main force as they paddled on; at other times the beasts got alongside of the leading men and horses, and then the danger to both was imminent, the bulls attacking them in the water; thus many valuable horses were killed by these infuriated animals, while the men had several narrow escapes. What with savage bulls, electric eels, crocodiles and caribes—not to mention other pernicious creatures of the waters and the broad expanse of the river before them—the task of these bold adventurers is truly appalling; yet they go to work and accomplish their task with a willing heart and a perfect nonchalance of every thing around them. The same might be said also in regard to the noble steeds which share with them the dangers of the river, acting at the same time the part of floating bridges to the men, and as decoys to the cattle during the passage. Their powers of endurance, in this instance, are the more surprising, inasmuch as they are not allowed even a few moments’ rest after they land, being kept in constant motion the whole day.

A number of horsemen with lazos were also stationed along the shore to secure those bulls which, eluding the vigilance of the men in the canoes, succeeded in regaining the land; many were drowned, however, in the attempt, and their carcasses abandoned to the turkey-buzzards, from an inherent disgust among the people of the Llanos for the flesh of animals which have not been killed in the usual way. On one or two occasions, the whole troop rebelled against their drivers and succeeded in making their escape to their pasture fields, in spite of the horsemen on shore; others, after reaching the sloping banks across the river below the pass, were arrested in their flight by the overhanging cliffs, and finally hurled to a watery grave by the rapid rise of the river.

Thus the cost of these expeditions, although exceedingly interesting to those participating in the excitement, is sometimes greater than the profits arising therefrom, and none but Llaneros, who are accustomed to live on beef and water, ought to indulge in this truly savage business. Our loss in horses alone, without reckoning the expenses of the expedition and the danger to flesh and bone, amounted on this occasion to about thirty animals, which in round figures, setting the value of every horse at the minimum price of one hundred dollars, would make the sum of three thousand dollars; while the value of the cattle itself, many of which were also lost to us, could hardly be set down at five dollars a head at that epoch. One of the horses was so valuable, that our Leader requested the Doctor to attend the wounded animal and endeavor to save his life if possible. On examination, it was found that his bowels were partly forced out through the wound; but as he would not allow any body to touch him, it was resolved to tie his feet; then passing a pole through the legs of the animal, he was lifted from the ground in a reverse position, to allow the Doctor to operate more conveniently. It was already very dark, and the group of Llaneros lifting the patient, with others holding up lighted torches made of rags and tallow, and the humorous Esculapius leaning over the struggling beast, presented a scene ludicrous in the extreme. In spite of the skill with which he performed the operation, and the humane care of the owner, the horse expired the same night.

Three whole days were spent in the laborious occupation of forcing the cattle across the river. Nor were the nights less diligently employed at the village in the more entertaining recreation of dancing, flirting and gambling, according to the tastes and inclinations of our motley assembly. It must be confessed, however, that the latter had more incentives for the people of that pastoral region than the shepherd’s reed and crook. Occasionally a fight would occur during these nocturnal revelries; but this, beyond some hard words and brandishing of swords and daggers by moonlight, which rather added to the picturesqueness of the scene, never ended in any thing very serious.

The river was now rising so rapidly, that in order to reach our camp in the neighborhood of the village, we were obliged to place canoes across the main street leading to it, for fear of coming in contact with any of the numerous tenants of that stream. About this time the fish, conscious of the approaching inundation of the savannas, commence to ascend the river in search of those places best suited for spawning; and so great is the number of those that seek a nuptial rendezvous, that the noise they make in the water can be heard at some distance from the river. During their migration the water becomes so tainted with their flavor, that it is unfit to drink or wash in. Desirous of obtaining some live specimens for sketching, I procured a tarraya, or throw net, which I requested one of our men to launch near the bank; he did so; but when he tried to lift it, he found it impossible unassisted, which made us fear that the net had got entangled among snags at the bottom of the river. A companion was called to our assistance, and between us three, we soon brought it up, when, to my astonishment and delight, I found the net full of coporos, palometas; and other delicacies; the caribes, however, soon rendered it perfectly useless, which circumstance I considered a misfortune, as I could not keep the fish long without spoiling. Next day I was advised by one of the villagers to place three or four canoes, partly filled with water, across the stream; the fish, finding their progress arrested by the obstruction, endeavored to jump over; in doing which they fell in the canoes by hundreds. The contrivance succeeded so well, that every morning I could depend on a plentiful supply, both for my sketch-book and the frying-pan. My attention was particularly attracted this time by a large fish called the valenton, from its great strength which, as I was informed, enables him to drag a canoe after him when caught with the hook and line. A distressing occurrence took place there which nearly cost the life of a young man while engaged in fishing for the valenton. The angler and a friend were engaged in conversation, with their lines thrown carelessly over the sides of the canoe, when the fish seized the bait and ran off, as he is in the habit of doing. The jerk was so violent, that the young man was unable to hold the line, and allowed it to slip through his hands; he was not aware that at the end of the line there was another hook, which buried itself in the thumb of his right hand; the next moment he was violently pitched in the water and dragged for some distance, when fortunately the line broke, and he was picked up almost insensible by his companion. During its gambols in the river, the valenton jumps sometimes three feet clear out of the water, raising a large volume of spray and striking the surface with its powerful tail in its fall; so great is the splash, that the noise can be heard a great distance off, especially in the stillness of the night, when the fish seems to be more busily engaged in hunting.

The payara also delights at this time in those jumps so much dreaded by fishermen,[46] and even by people wearing any red garment about their persons; for this fish, like the caribe, is said to be attracted by that color, just as wild bulls are; so much so that it often happens that one of them springs on people thus attired in the canoes, though it always pays dearly for its temerity, as, in consequence of the peculiar structure of its jaws, the fish cannot disentangle itself from the garment, to which it remains attached until released by the hand of its intended victim, who is very glad of the chance thus unexpectedly thrown in his way, for the payara is a most delicious fish, often weighing twenty and thirty pounds, and withal very beautiful. Of this savage propensity people avail themselves to capture this fish without hook or line, on the large rivers, such as the Apure and Orinoco, where they seem to be most daring; a piece of red flannel, or some other strong material, tied to the end of a long rod, being sufficient for the sport: the tempting bait is held over the side of the canoe a few inches above the surface of the water, and no sooner does the fish perceive the alluring decoy, than with one spring it seizes it and remains as firmly attached to it, as if held by an iron bolt; for in addition to its formidable row of teeth, which are long and sharp as needles, the payara has on the lower jaw two very much elongated fangs that penetrate the head through corresponding passages in it which allow the points to protrude close to the eyes of the fish, and unless it tears off the piece, as it often does to the naked and arnatto-stained Indian while paddling his canoe, the payara perishes by its own arms.

Among the many eventful incidents of la Independencia still fresh in the memory of our Leader, he relates an anecdote in connection with the Libertador, Simon Bolívar, in which both these champions of freedom participated while engaged on an important reconnoissance during the rainy season. The savannas being, as usual, overflowed for the most part, and there being no other means of transportation than the frail canoes of the country, the two chieftains were compelled to travel in one of these over their inundated domain, with the assistance of two Indian paddlers. Fish were so numerous, that numbers of them, disturbed by the strokes of the paddles against the sides of the canoe, jumped in all directions, while not a few fell amidst the distinguished passengers. The Libertador who, like almost all great men, had also his weak points, possessed a very nervous temperament, especially about little things; therefore he felt quite uneasy at the unceremonious intrusion from the finny inhabitants of his swampy realms, whose movements he mistook for a mischievous propensity on their part to attack the wayfarer. On the other hand, our Leader, who was always ready to practise a good joke, seized the opportunity to occasionally tip the canoe so as to make it ship water, and more fish along with it. Whereupon his companion, who was not aware of the trick practised upon him, imagining that the fish were becoming bolder as they advanced, exclaimed in utter despair, “D——n it! Compañero, let us pull back, for even the fish are savage in this country.”

When the waters subside, thousands, nay, millions remain struggling in the ponds and little pools, left on the savannas, where they soon perish and rot away, tainting the air with their effluvium. Some of them, like the curito, a species of Silurus, covered with transverse plates surrounding the body, have the power of living buried in the indurated mud, from whence they are called to life again by the returning showers. As they form a most delicious mess, they are eagerly sought by men and women, who resort to these places armed with wicker baskets, and collect great numbers of the fish before they are carried away by the increasing inundation of the savannas.

A very singular belief, shared likewise, according to Sir Emerson Tennent, by the people of Ceylon, exists in the Apure respecting fish falling from the clouds. Alluding to this phenomenon, that ingenious writer observes: “Both at Galle and Colombo in the southwest monsoon, fish are popularly believed to have fallen from the clouds during violent showers; but those found on the occasions that give rise to this belief, consist of smallest fry, such as could be caught up by water-spouts and vortices analogous to them, or otherwise blown on shore from the surf; whereas those which suddenly appear in the replenished tanks and in the hollows which they overflow, are mature and well-grown fish. Besides, the latter are found under the circumstances I have described, in all parts of the interior, whilst the prodigy of a supposed fall of fish from the sky has been noticed, I apprehend, only in the vicinity of the sea or of some inland water.”

Although the author further explains the phenomenon on the supposition that some fish are endowed with the power of locomotion over land, while others in a torpid state remain buried in the mud until the return of the rainy season; yet, I have been assured by reliable persons that live fish have been picked up in places where no such possible contingencies could occur; for instance, upon the roofs of houses or amidst wide plains far from running water. Most of those thus found are small, from three to seven inches long; but none of them capable of living more than twenty minutes out of water; and the father of the writer once even witnessed a fall of bocachicos, a fish which seldom lives over five minutes out of its own element.

In support of these views, which were embodied in my Wild Scenes in South America, I now have the pleasure of adding the testimony of no less an authority than Gosse, who has collected a number of authentic examples of this phenomenon in his Romance of Natural History. According to his statements, fish-showers have occurred in all parts of the world, not even excepting his own country—England,—where, early in 1859, the newspapers of South Wales recorded a shower of fish in the Valley of Aberdare. The repeated statements attracted more notice than usual, and the Rev. John Griffith, the vicar of the parish, communicated the results of his inquiries to the Evening Mail.

“If now we look to other lands,” continues the author, “we shall find that the descent of fishes from the atmosphere, under conditions little understood, is a phenomenon which rests on indubitable evidence. Humboldt has published interesting details of the ejection of fish in large quantities from volcanoes in South America. On the night between the 19th and 20th of June, 1698, the summit of Carguairazo, a volcano more than 19,000 feet in height, fell in, and the surrounding country for nearly thirty-two square miles was covered with mud and fishes. A similar eruption of fish from the volcano of Imbabura was supposed to have been the cause of a putrid fever which raged in the town of Ibarra seven years before that period.”

This is accounted for on the supposition that subterraneous lakes, communicating with surface-waters, form in cavities in the declivities, or at the base of a volcano. In the course of time these internal cavities are burst open by the force of the volcanic explosions, and their contents discharged through the water.

But the most extraordinary account recorded by Gosse is that of Dr. Buist, of Bombay, who, after enumerating the cases above cited, and others of similar character, goes on to say:—“In 1824 fishes fell at Meerut on the men of her Majesty’s 14th Regiment, then out at drill, and were caught in numbers. In July, 1826, live fish were seen to fall on the grass at Moradabad during a storm. They were the common Cyprinus, so prevalent in our Indian waters. On the 19th of February, 1830, at noon, a heavy fall of fish occurred at the Nokulhatty factory, in the Daccah Zillah; depositions on the subject were obtained from nine different parties. The fish were all dead; most of them were large; some were fresh; others were rotten and mutilated. They were seen at first in the sky, like a flock of birds, descending rapidly to the ground; there was rain drizzling, but no storm. On the 16th and 17th of May, 1833, a fall of fish occurred in the Zillah of Foottehpoor, about three miles north of Jumna, after a violent storm of wind and rain. The fish were from a pound and a half to three pounds in weight, and the same species as those found in the tanks in the neighborhood. They were all dead and dry. A fall of fish occurred at Allahabad during a storm in May, 1835; they were of the chowla species, and were found dead and dry after the storm had passed over the district. On the 20th of September, 1839, after a smart shower of rain, a quantity of fish, about three inches in length, and all of the same kind, fell at the Sunderbunds, about twenty miles south of Calcutta. On this occasion it was remarked that the fish did not fall here and there irregularly over the ground, but in a continuous straight line, not more than a span in breadth. The vast multitudes of fish with which the low grounds around Bombay are covered, about a week or ten days after the first burst of the monsoon, appear to be derived from the adjoining pools or rivulets, and not to descend from the sky. They are not, as far as I know, found in the higher parts of the island. I have never seen them, though I have watched carefully, in casks collecting water from the roofs of buildings, or heard of them on the decks or awnings of vessels in the harbor, where they must have appeared had they descended from the sky. One of the most remarkable phenomena of this kind occurred during a tremendous deluge of rain at Kattywar, on the 25th of July, 1850, where the ground around Rajkote was found literally covered with fish; some of them were found on the top of haystacks, where probably they had been drifted by the storm. In the course of twenty-four successive hours twenty-seven inches of rain fell; thirty-five fell in twenty-six hours, seven inches in one hour and a half, being the heaviest fall on record. At Poonah, on the 3d of August, 1852, after a very heavy fall of rain, multitudes of fish were caught on the ground in the cantonments, full half a mile from the nearest stream. If showers of fish are to be explained on the assumption that they are carried up by squalls or violent winds from rivers or spaces of water not far away from where they fall, it would be nothing wonderful were they seen to descend from the air during the furious squalls which occasionally occur in July.”

Sir E. Tennent, before cited, also witnessed in Ceylon another of those fish-showers:—“I had an opportunity, on one occasion only, of witnessing the phenomenon which gives rise to this popular belief. I was driving in the cinnamon gardens near the fort of Colombo, and saw a violent but partial shower descend at no great distance before me. On coming to the spot, I found a multitude of small silvery fish, from one and a half to two inches in length, leaping on the gravel of the high road, numbers of which I collected and brought away in my palanquin. The spot was about half a mile from the sea, and entirely unconnected with any water-course or pool.”[47]

The same curious fact respecting the habits of certain kinds of fish in the Llanos, which bury themselves in the mud at the close of the rainy season, also appears to take place in India and Ceylon; for, according to Gosse, “the pools, reservoirs, and tanks are well provided with fish of various species, though the water twice every year becomes perfectly evaporated, and the mud of the bottom is entirely converted into dust, or takes the condition of baked clay, gaping with wide and deep clefts, in which not the slightest sign of moisture can be detected. This is the case with temporary hollows in the soil, which have no connection with running streams or permanent waters, from which they might be supposed to receive a fresh stock of fish.”

After proving conclusively that these fishes could not proceed from either the clouds, as the generality of people believe, nor from impregnated ova, as Mr. Farrell suggests, the author observes:—“Neither of these hypotheses, then, will account for the fact; and we must admit that the fishes of these regions, have the instinct to burrow down in the solid mud of the bottom, at the approach of the dry season, and the power of retaining life, doubtless in a torpid condition, until the return of the periodic rains, as Theophrastus long ago observed.”

But, who ever heard of showers of toads and frogs? Yet, such is the fact, astonished reader; and were you to visit with me some of the lagoons and ponds of South America at night, you would not fail to notice that the air, as well as the earth and waters, seems filled with the piercing, deafening noise proceeding from them. “According to travellers in tropical America, the inhabitants of Porto Bello assert that every drop of rain is changed into a toad; the most instructed, however, believe that the spawn of these animals is raised with the vapor from the adjoining swamps, and, being driven in the clouds over the city, the ova are hatched as they descend in rain. ’Tis certain that the streets after a night of heavy rain are almost covered with the ill-favored reptiles; and it is impossible to walk without crushing them. But heretic philosophers point to the mature growth of the vermin, many of them being six inches in length, and maintain that the hypothesis just mentioned will scarcely account for the appearance of these.”[48]

But it is not South America alone that can boast of such an extraordinary phenomenon; for the same accomplished author records similar showers as occurring in England and various parts of the Continent: “In two or three of these cases, the toads were not only observed in countless numbers on the ground during and after heavy storms of rain, but were seen to strike upon the roofs of houses, bounding thence into the streets; they even fell upon the hats, and, in one instance, were actually received into the outstretched hand.”

It would seem that not even quadrupeds are exempt there, from the same rule, for we often hear the phrase in English, “If it should rain cats and dogs,” which I, for want of a better acquaintance with English phraseology, am at a loss how to interpret. We all know that stone-showers are not uncommon, especially ever since “the thunderer,” Jupiter, alias Jove, lost his power among us through the advancing strides of civilization. Previous to this, we are told of his paying occasional visits to his lady-loves on earth in the shape of golden showers, which have been exchanged subsequently for a less costly material; but showers of “cats and dogs” I do not believe ever occurred, even to an old sinner like him.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE WONDERS OF THE RIVER.

Marvellous as the Apure river is in point of living creatures, it is nothing in comparison with the Orinoco, into which it flows, and the Amazon river, that connects with the Orinoco through the Casiquiare and Rio Negro. The recent explorations of Professor Agassiz in the Amazon, and the former researches of Wallace on the latter river, prove, I hope conclusively, that my statements concerning the fishes of these regions are far below the mark in point of numbers, and that there is no end to the varieties. Wallace, who spent nearly four years on the Rio Negro collecting objects of natural history for the British Museum, and whose principal fare consisted of the fish caught by his men, tells us, “I began now to take a great interest in the beauty and variety of the species, and, whenever I could, I made accurate drawings and descriptions of them. Many are of a most excellent flavor, surpassing anything I have tasted in England, either from the fresh or the salt waters; and many species have real fat, which renders the water they are boiled in a rich and agreeable broth. Not a drop of this is wasted, but, with a little pepper and farinha, is all consumed, with as much relish as if it were the most delicate soup.”[49]

And Agassiz, in his interesting lectures on the same subject, says: “Now, what are the fishes which inhabit the Amazon? for I wanted to say all this simply as a preparation to give you some definite idea of the various types of fish which we find in that mighty basin. Not one of those fishes with which we are familiar in our rivers is to be found there; not one of those which are known in the rivers of Europe is to be found there; not one from any other fresh water basin is to be found there. The Amazon has fishes of its own, utterly different from those of any other basin, and these fishes are different from those in all other fresh water rivers of Brazil, and in each part of the Amazon there are fish of a peculiar character, so that those which inhabit the lower course of the Amazon differ from those found in the upper. So great is the variety, that in small lakes of water, at parts of the Amazon, we find an endless variety. I examined a little lake, just at the junction of the Rio Negro with the Amazon. The lake was only a few hundred yards in extent, and in that pool, for it was hardly anything more, I found in the course of two months over two hundred different kinds of fish, and three times larger than can be found in the Mississippi or in the Senegal or Ganges or Nile. The number of fish found in the whole basin of the Amazon is not less than two thousand different kinds, that is, ten times as many as were known about a century ago to exist in the whole world. And strange to say, it would seem that, in proportion as we become acquainted with a larger number of these animals they should be found to resemble one another more and more. On the contrary, however, such are the peculiarities of their features, such is the infinite number of circumstances which brings about differences among them, that in proportion as I find a larger and larger number, I find the difference between them seems to grow, and though it appears paradoxical, it is strictly true.”

And returning now to the Orinoco, the good missionary and historiographer of that noble river, Father Gumilla, tells us that “So great is the multitude of fishes and turtles, that the slime, excrements and continual blood shed by those which devour or wound each other, is the principal cause of the heaviness and bad taste of the water of the Orinoco, which is also the case in some of the rivers of Hungary, and can be more readily perceived in basins or reservoirs devoted to the preservation of live fish, where the water soon becomes tainted and unpalatable, although it may go in and out freely.

“What astonishes still more is the novelty of the species and curious shapes of these fishes, so different from those of our Europe, for not even the sardinas have the flavor nor the shape of these. All that we can say, after a careful examination of these fishes, is, this one resembles somewhat the trout, that one the sole, etc.; but no one can say with certainty this is like any in Europe. But what of it, when it is a fact that the fish found in the waters of the tierra caliente are totally different from those of the tierra fria?”

Of the modes of fishing practised by the Indians of his Mission, he also tells us many curious devices. “Observe,” he says, “those four canoes, manned by the boys of the Doctrina, and darting side by side along the river; well, this is the most novel and the most curious mode of fishing ever devised, as the fishes here called Bocachicos, Palometas, Lizas, Sardinas, and many other kinds of smaller fry, jump of their own accord into the canoes in such quantities that, were not the paddlers expert enough and their craft propelled with such rapidity, these would soon fill up and sink with the weight of the fish that fall in them; for each kind has its proper season for spawning, and with the object of saving some of their ova to multiply their species, they have been taught by the Supreme Author of Nature to quit their haunts and seek some convenient eddy, where, placing their tails against the current, they receive in their gills the little eggs which may chance to fall in them; and these are the only ones saved, the rest being devoured by other fishes, whose numbers at and near these currents is immense, one shoal crowding on the top of another.”

In the rivers and streams of minor importance, where fish are not so abundant, the natives, by way of pastime, and also to vary their fare, avail themselves of the roots of two plants—the cuna and the barbasco,[50] both of which possess the singular peculiarity of intoxicating fish, even when the smallest quantity of the juice of the roots is thrown in the stream, producing such commotion among the finny inhabitants, that they fall an easy prey to the Indians, who take a special delight in this wholesale slaughter. The cuna is a small plant, somewhat like clover, producing a bulbous root like a small turnip, but with very different smell and taste, and the barbasco, a vine, very common in all parts of the country, and although both are exceedingly deleterious to fish, they are not so to other creatures. The process is very simple: A quantity of the roots or vines is slightly pounded with a wooden mallet and thrown in the water, and no sooner do the fish perceive the smell of it, than they rush frantically up and down the stream to avoid its contact; those which take the former course find their progress arrested by a file of Indians, who, armed with poles, beat about the water to turn them back, which they quickly do, but only to find their retreat cut off in that direction too, for their cunning assailants have already taken the precaution to bar the stream with a double row of stakes, the lower one higher than the upper. Not discouraged in the least, the larger and stronger fish make another rush up the stream; but no sooner do they come in contact with the noxious herb than they retreat again towards the barricade, and here, redoubling their energies, leap over the first row of stakes, and thus find themselves entrapped within the narrow limits of the stockade. In the meantime the smaller fish, having neither the strength nor the courage to save themselves, become thoroughly intoxicated with the juices already disseminated in the water, and fall an easy prey to the joyous urchins, who pounce upon them, and transfer them to the baskets they carry for the purpose. This is a very amusing mode of fishing, and during the excitement produces much merriment among the Indians; now a fish slaps a redskin on the face with its tail; another one strikes against the bare ribs of some one else, which never fails to draw peals of laughter from their companions, who, in turn, become themselves the laughing-stock of the others from similar mishaps.

But the most amusing contrivance practised by these people with the cuna is the following: An Indian takes a quantity of boiled maize and grinds it to paste; one half of it is thoroughly incorporated with the cuna, while the other half he reserves as a decoy to attract the fish to a particular spot: he then calls his children, who, armed with baskets, follow their father to the stream; here the fisherman commences to throw small pellets of the unprepared paste in the water, which never fails to attract great numbers of sardines, palometas, and other delicacies, and changing suddenly his tactics, he exchanges the harmless bait for the other, which no sooner is swallowed by the fish, than they commence to turn somersaults in the air, with other antics no less amusing to the boys, who as quickly transfer them to their baskets. It is almost incredible the amount of fish that is thus procured in a short time, enabling a poor Indian not only to supply the wants of his family, but to afford his children a lively recreation.

Still another mode of fishing, equally ingenious, is practised by the Indians when the waters commence to ebb towards the Orinoco at the end of the great floods, by means of strong stockades thrown across the outlet of the great lagunas, which are the receptacle of immense quantity of larger game, such as turtles and vagres (species of catfish) weighing from fifty to seventy-five pounds; laulaus or valentones, from two hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds; and above all, innumerable manatís, from five hundred to one thousand pounds. European Spaniards call this animal Vaca Marina, or sea cow, and the Brazilians Peixe Boi, ox-fish, from its feeding on grass, and other peculiarities which assimilate it to the bovine species. The manatí abounds in the Apure, the Meta, and most of the large tributaries of the Orinoco below the cataracts, and more especially in the lagoons formed by these rivers during the season of great floods, which he prefers on account of the abundant and tender food they offer them. Of this the astute Indians avail themselves to entrap them, as no sooner do the waters commence to fall than they watch attentively the channel through which the lake they have chosen as a fish-magazine—for no better name can be applied, from the finny multitude they secure there for months—is likely to drain off. To this spot resort the entire population of the village or tribe, who immediately commence to cut stakes of the requisite length and of great thickness, to resist the onset of the formidable phalanxes of monster fishes seeking a passage to the river. The stakes are then driven in the bed of the channel close enough to permit only the exit of the water and of the smaller fish, excluding the turtles and the fish of greater magnitude. The stockade is further reinforced by cross-beams of great strength thrown across the channel, firmly secured at both ends, and resting against the stakes; and for greater security they further strengthen them by an outer row of trunks of trees driven in the ground close to the stockade. It may appear superfluous to take such precautions against the apparently defenceless hosts imprisoned within the boundaries of the lagoon; but so great and powerful are in fact the avalanches of manatís struggling against this formidable barrier, that it is often found necessary to reinforce it twice, and even three times in the course of the season.

Indeed it is scarcely credible, the number and size of the creatures secured in this manner, whole tribes of Indians subsisting for months together on the supply afforded by one of these reservoirs; but as these lagoons eventually drain off towards the close of the rainy season, and the Indians cannot exhaust them in spite of their insatiate voracity, they are compelled at last, though reluctantly, to remove the obstruction in time to allow the fish to return to the bed of the stream before they are cut off from it; and it is asserted that on one occasion, having neglected this precaution in time, more than three thousand manatís, and a still greater number of large fish, perished in the shallow water of one of these lagoons, with the exception only of the turtles, who were, of course, in their element.

The manatí is a herbivorous animal of the cetaceous family, of which the whale is the type, and attains here from twelve to fifteen feet in length. Some are caught that weigh over a thousand pounds. In shape it resembles a seal somewhat, though its eyes and auricular organs are extremely small, but very acute, so much so that great care is required on the part of the fisherman who goes in pursuit of it, not to strike the sides of his canoe with the paddle and frighten the game off. Its principal means of propulsion exist in its tail, which is flat and round, from three to four feet broad, and very powerful; but it possesses in addition two pectoral fins, or armlets, situated at a proportionate distance from the head, and these enable the animal to come out of the water to browse on the rich herbage by the banks of rivers and lagoons: these armlets serve the female, in addition, to hold its young—always two in number, male and female—close to its breasts, until they are old enough to follow the mother and eat grass, their only food; and it is a curious fact, that although the mother often delights—as is the habit of these cetacea—in gambols in the water, when they sometimes jump several feet out of their element, they never lose hold of their twins.

The anatomy of this fresh-water whale is very curious, according to Humboldt, who dissected one while on his way to the Orinoco. “The upper lip was four inches longer than the lower one. It was covered with a very fine skin, and served as a proboscis. The inside of the mouth, which has a sensible warmth in the animal newly killed, presented a very singular conformation. The tongue was almost motionless; but in front of the tongue there was a fleshy excrescence in each jaw, and a cavity lined with a very hard skin, into which the excrescence fitted. The manatí eats such quantities of grass that we have found its stomach, which is divided into several cavities, and its intestines (one hundred and eight feet long) filled with it. Opening the animal at the back, we were struck with the magnitude, form, and situation of its lungs. They have very large cells, and resemble immense swimming-bladders. They are three feet long; filled with air, they have a bulk of more than a thousand cubic inches. I was surprised to see that, possessing such receptacles of air, the manatí comes so often to the surface of the water to breathe. Its flesh is very savory, though, from what prejudice I know not, it is considered unhealthy and apt to produce fever. It appeared to me to resemble pork rather than beef. It is most esteemed by the Guamos and Ottomacs; and these two nations are particularly expert in catching the manatí. The fat of the animal, known by the name of manatí-butter (manteca de manatí) is used for lamps in the churches, and is also employed in preparing food. It has not the fetid smell of whale oil, or that of the other cetaceous animals which spout water. The hide of the manatí, which is more than an inch and a half in thickness, is cut into slips, and serves, like thongs of ox-leather, to supply the place of cordage in the Llanos. When immersed in water, it has the defect of undergoing a slight degree of putrefaction. Whips are made from it in the Spanish colonies. Hence the words latigo and manatí are synonymous. These whips of manatí leather are a cruel instrument of punishment for the unhappy slaves, and even for the Indians of the Missions, though, according to the laws, the latter ought to be treated like freemen.”

The address displayed by an Indian of the Orinoco in capturing with the harpoon one of these monsters and bringing it into port, with only the assistance of his wife to paddle and steer the frail canoe, is most wonderful. While the woman propels the canoe, the man stands erect at the bow, watching intently the moment when the manatí comes up to the surface to breathe, which it does every few minutes. Off flies the double-barbed harpoon from the hands of the fisherman, and implants itself in the thick hide of the doomed monster, which no sooner feels the piercing blow, than away it darts at a fearful rapidity, dragging along after it the frail canoe, to the bow of which is attached one end of the thong made from the tough hide of the manatí, while to the other end is firmly secured the iron head of the harpoon itself. After vain endeavors to avoid the danger that threatens it, now dashing rapidly against the stream for an hour or so, now seeking the calm surface of a neighboring lagoon, during which time the sporting couple manage with difficulty to keep their seats at the bottom of the canoe, holding fast to the sides of it with both hands, the monster, bleeding and exhausted after its precipitate flight, begins at last to slacken its pace, and finally stops altogether. Now the hunter commences to pull it towards him with much caution; but no sooner does the animal perceive the dreaded canoe with its savage occupants, than off it sets anew at the same lightning speed, though this time of less duration; again the hunter pulls the game towards him, and again it endeavors to fly from him; but having lost nearly all its strength, and probably convinced of the uselessness of further efforts to escape, it now stops, rolls on its back, and calmly awaits its fate on the surface of the water. By this time the canoe is alongside of the captive, and, without further concern, the Indian cuts it open with his knife, and as soon as the water penetrates to its entrails, the great monster dies without a struggle. And now, “what shall we do with it,” in the midst of a river or lagoon four or five miles in width? How is this creature—weighing perhaps a thousand pounds, and nearly as long as the canoe—to be landed safely on the shore? How can a single man, assisted only by a frail woman, without firm ground to set their feet upon, manage to stow away the cumbrous load? Nothing easier, incredulous reader; “first catch the hare and then make the soup,” and this the Indian hunter daily practises in his native wilds, without much culinary advice from Mrs. Glass. Having secured their game, the hunters, or fishers, plunge in the water, swimming all the while with their feet and one hand, while with the other they tip over the canoe until it partly fills with water, which brings it on a level with the carcass of the manatí; this accomplished, the rest of the operation is easily done by sliding the canoe under the carcass, and then baling out the water by means of calabash cups, which cover their heads in lieu of hats. In proportion as they bale out the water, the canoe rises above the surface, and when sufficiently high to permit its being safely navigated through the boisterous waves of the Orinoco, the husband leaps on the head of the animal and calmly takes his seat, while the wife does the same on the broad tail of the monster fish, and directing the bow of the canoe towards the shore, they paddle themselves along with their cumbrous freight, which is soon disposed of among the numerous relations and friends, who anxiously await their arrival on the beach.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE LAND OF EL DORADO.

Before we quit the shores of the Apure, I will invite the reader to follow me in imagination, or, better still, in one of the many bongos trading between this and the Orinoco river, on to the adjoining province of Guayana, or Guiana, as it is more commonly known among English writers and explorers. This will give us an opportunity of gliding over one of the greatest rivers in the world, which nearly encircles a vast territory hardly known to civilized man, that is just now attracting a great deal of notice on account of the recent gold discoveries made there; a country unsurpassed in natural treasures and resources; a sort of hidden paradise which greedy gold-hunters of former times sought in vain under the gilded name of El Dorado, and which, strange to say, has remained, like the wealth of California, undiscovered until recently.

What a train of awful recollections this once magic name of El Dorado brings to mind! What tales of woe, of daring adventure and blasted hopes it has left behind for the entertainment and raillery of subsequent generations! And yet, the gallant Raleigh—Sir Walter—like Galileo before the tribunal of the Inquisition, was right in his belief that there was gold enough in Guayana to load the entire fleet of Great Britain in his time.

But let us not anticipate the narrative of events, which will come, each one in its turn. Availing ourselves, therefore, of the gentle current of the Apure, we will proceed on our journey, stopping here and there to get a shot at the enormous crocodiles—larger than any we have yet seen—which infest its waters near its confluence with the Orinoco; and perhaps also at some thirsty jaguar taking its young to drink. Humboldt has described these scenes so vividly, that I must refer the reader to the third volume of his “Travels,” Bohn’s edition, for further information on the subject.

Proceeding down the river, which here presents the singularity of becoming narrower, on account of infiltrations through a spongy and sandy soil, as well as other causes, we come suddenly upon a vast expanse of waters, presenting all the appearance of an agitated sea, from the conflict between breeze and current. This is the grand old river we are in quest of, the Orinoco. “The air resounded no longer with the piercing cries of herons, flamingos, and spoonbills, crossing in long files from one shore to the other. Our eyes sought in vain those water-fowls, the habits of which vary in each climate. Scarcely could we discover in the hollows of the waves a few large crocodiles, cutting obliquely, by the help of their long tails, the surface of the agitated waters. The horizon was bounded by a zone of forests, which nowhere reached so far as the bed of the river. A vast beach, constantly parched by the heat of the sun, desert and bare as the shores of the sea, resembles at a distance, from the effects of the mirage, pools of stagnant water. In these scattered features, we recognize the course of the Orinoco, one of the most majestic rivers of the New World.”[52]

At this point the Orinoco, already enriched with the tribute of the Guaviare, the Inirida, the Meta, and the Arauca, which, like the Apure, have their sources amidst the snowy mountains of New Granada, suddenly changes its course, and, in conjunction with the latter, flows nearly in a straight line towards the Atlantic, after describing an arc of a circle around the western portion of Guayana. The vast territory thus encompassed within its mighty embrace gives rise also to numerous other rivers hardly inferior in magnitude to the above-named, such as the Ventuari, the Cuchivero, the Paragua, the Caura, the Caroni, etc., all of which flow into the Orinoco from the south, thus contributing to swell the volume of its waters to the extent that it presents by the time it reaches the ocean on the fifteenth meridian of longitude east of Washington. Our route being in this direction also, we will not follow the illustrious traveller in his laborious exploration of the Upper Orinoco, the Casiquiare and the Rio Negro. I would, however, advise those who are not conversant with his works to read his description of the Raudales, or Great Rapids of Atures and Maipures, which he has sketched with a masterly hand in his Tableaux de la Nature. The following passage, quoted from said work, will convey to the reader some idea of the magnificence of the river at that point:—