FEATHER HEADDRESSES AND THEIR STRUCTURE — THE FEATHER APRON — DRESS OF THE WOMEN — THE KIMISA AND QUEYU — MODE OF MANUFACTURE — HARMONY OF COLOR — MR. BAINES’ THEORY — A SINGULAR PURCHASE — THE SAPURU OR GARTER OF THE CARIBS — PAINT AND TATTOO — THE SPATHE CAP AND APRON — PETS AMONG THE NATIVES — SKILL IN FISHING AND CAYMAN CATCHING — MR. WATERTON’S ADVENTURE — THE INGENIOUS HOOK — GAMES AND SPORTS — SHIELD WRESTLING — CANOE SLAKING — NAVIGATING THE FALLS.

During their dances the natives display all their best feather ornaments. Two of their headdresses are shown on page 1238. The foundation of these is a circlet made of thin dark cane, cut into strips. One of them (fig. 2) is made of parrots’ feathers, beautifully shaded from dark blue to brilliant green, and being topped with three long straight scarlet feathers from the tail of the macaw. The general effect of this beautiful headdress is heightened by a row of white downy feathers by which it is surrounded. This specimen was made by the Macoushie tribe.

The other headdress (fig. 1) is called Arok, and, though very handsome in point of color, does not possess the beauty of form which characterizes the other. The greater part of the headdress is bright yellow, but just on either side of the top are two broad bands of scarlet. The feathers in this specimen are arranged four deep.

The reader may remember that, in many portions of the uncivilized world, aprons are made of thongs depending from the waist. This principle is carried out by many of the African tribes, who use thongs or strips of leather, as well as in several of the islands of Polynesia, where vegetable materials are used. We have at fig. 4, on page 1249, an example of the same principle carried out in Tropical America, feathers being employed instead of skin, grass, or bark. The length of this apron is one foot nine inches, and its depth one foot three inches. It is made of feathers, blue at the base and tip, and scarlet in the middle. As may be seen by the smaller figure at the side, the feathers are fastened on the string that binds the apron on the waist by doubling over the quill, and tying the doubled end over the string.

It is on such occasions as the Arawâk and Warau dances, of which a description was given in the last chapter, that the women produce their best apparel. Generally, as long as none but their own people are in sight, they are not particular about wearing clothes of any kind, but since they have mixed with the white people they have learned to be more fastidious. When a white stranger comes to a native settlement, the men and women are mostly independent of clothing, but the latter, as soon as they distinguish the color of their visitor, run off to their homes to put on their dresses.

Those settlements that are tolerably near civilization usually employ the “kimisa,” i. e. a sort of petticoat passing round the waist, and suspended by a string over one shoulder. These dresses are considered merely a concession to the peculiar notions of the white man, and, though worn while he is present, are taken off as soon as he departs, and carefully put away until the next white visitor comes.

The native dress of ceremony is, however, the little apron called the queyu, or keu. At the present time it is made of beads, but before beads were procurable it was simply of cotton, decorated with shells, beetles’ wings, and similar ornaments. Several of these odd little aprons are in my collection. The best and most elaborate of them is that which is represented at fig. 5, on page 1249, and was presented to me by H. Bernau, Esq.

This beautiful specimen of native art is eight inches in length and four in depth, including the large beads that serve as a fringe. It is made entirely of “seed” beads, threaded on silk grass in such a manner that the thread is scarcely visible. The principle on which the maker has gone is, that she has woven a sort of framework of perpendicular threads or strings, set exactly wide enough apart to allow two beads to be placed between them. By this plan she has regulated the arrangement of the beads requisite to form the pattern, while the beads themselves are strung upon fine silk-grass threads that run at right angles to the others.

The colors are blue, yellow, green, and carmine, in transparent beads, and chalk-white and vermilion in opaque beads, not counting the larger beads used to form the fringe. The principle of the pattern is that of the square standing on an angle, or the “diamond,” as it is more familiarly termed. First, three diamonds have been worked in yellow beads, a line of green beads running down the centre of the yellow, and a rather broad line of carmine beads passing along the inner and outer edge of each diamond.

The dark pattern in the centre of each diamond is made of blue beads, and the square patterns in each angle of the diamond are made of chalk-white beads with a centre of vermilion. The entire apron is edged with the chalk-white beads. The fringe at the bottom is made of a treble row of much larger beads, one of which is represented of the full size, and at either end of each bead is a small scarlet cylinder, like coral.

On looking at the form of the apron, the reader will notice that it is much wider at the bottom than at the top. This is intentional. The thick perpendicular strings only extend as far as the upper corners, the others being thin threads. The consequence of this structure is, that when the apron is held up by two loops, the middle of it is nearly flat, while the two ends fall into heavy folds.

There is a positively startling boldness about the coloring of this apron; such, for example, as the placing green beads next to the yellow. Still, the whole arrangement of the colors is so admirable, that in spite of the brilliant hues of the beads, which are of the brightest possible blue, yellow, carmine, and vermilion, they are so well harmonized, that in no case does one hue seem to predominate over another, or to interfere with another.

Some few years ago, I was discussing the coloring of this very apron with Mr. T. Baines, the celebrated traveller, and asking if he had any theory by which he could account for the artistic harmony of color which is invariably displayed in the aprons. He said that he had long thought that the natives unconsciously imitated the coloring on the wings of the gorgeous butterflies which are so plentiful in that land, and, from specimens in his collection, showed that the very collocation of hues which produced harmony of coloring in the bead apron was also to be found in the wings of Guianan butterflies. Perhaps the splendid plumage of many Guianan birds may also afford hints for the native artist.

Another queyu in my collection is made of similar materials, and on the same principle, but is of a totally different pattern. In this case, the maker has evidently possessed a preponderance of the chalk-white beads, and comparatively few of the red, blue, and yellow beads. She has accordingly made the body of the apron of the white beads, and enlivened it by two patterns, of red, blue, and yellow, formed much like those which occupy the centre of the diamond in the apron which has been just described. In shape the two aprons are identical, but the latter is very much smaller in size, being only four inches in length and two in depth.

The third specimen of the queyu in my collection is much larger, being made of large beads, and really may take rank as an article of dress and not a mere ornament. It is thirteen inches in length by nine in depth, and, though not possessing the brilliant colors of the two queyus which have been described, is yet a handsome article of costume. The white beads of which the groundwork of this apron is made are as large as ordinary peas, so that the whole work is of a much coarser character than that which distinguishes the two other aprons. Those which form the pattern are deep garnet color, so dark that except in particular lights it looks black. The woman who made this apron has ingeniously selected the beads of such a size that two of the garnet beads occupy exactly the same space as one white bead, and exactly fill the interval between the perpendicular strings of the framework.

The most remarkable point in this apron is the pattern, which is exactly like that which is found on old patterns, and which has come into modern use under the name of the Greek fret. I have seen several queyus of different sizes and colors made with this pattern. The lower edge of the apron is made of six rows of topaz colored beads, as large as the white beads, and it is further decorated with a fringe made of tufts of cotton strings, one such tuft being fixed to every alternate bead.

As may be imagined from the description, the beads employed in making the apron are very heavy, the whole article weighing nearly a pound and a half, so that in this case the owner has good reason for not wearing it except on occasions of ceremony. Owing to the material of which these aprons are made, none of them put forth their full beauties unless they are held between the spectator and the light.

One of these aprons was procured by a friend of mine in a manner which shows that they are considered rather as ornaments than dress. He happened to be in one of the civilized coast towns, and met a woman wearing a queyu of remarkable beauty. He stopped her and tried to induce her to sell the apron; but all his exertions were in vain, and for no amount of money could he purchase it. At last a brilliant thought struck him. He had in his pocket one of the common printed handkerchiefs containing the flags of all nations, and, as a last resource, he offered the kerchief in exchange for the queyu.

The woman could not withstand such a temptation. The gorgeous patterns on the handkerchief were far superior to the best examples of native art, and might afford new ideas for the future. Accordingly, she then and there took off the queyu, handed it to the purchaser, and received in exchange the kerchief, which she tied round her head, and then pursued her walk in all the dignity of the best-dressed woman in Guiana.

The strangest article of dress to be found in Guiana is undoubtedly the Carib sapuru, or garter, an ornament which can compete with the compressed foot of a Chinese beauty, or the wasp-like waist of an European belle, both for inconvenience and ugliness. While the Carib girl is young a band of rattan is bound tightly under the knee and another above the ankle. To give them an ornamental appearance they are stained with a red dye, but in fact they are instruments of torture, which entirely alter the form of the human limb and convert it into a mere spindle thicker in the middle than at each end.

There are now before me a number of photographic portraits of Carib women, and it is scarcely possible to imagine anything more hideously ludicrous than the effect of the sapuru. Deprived of its natural powers of extension, the limb has to expand itself as it can, and the consequence is, that it is obliged to develop itself in the comparatively narrow space between the two bandages.

If the reader should wish to obtain an accurate idea of a Carib belle’s leg from the ankle to the knee, he can easily do so. Let him take an ordinary broomstick, eighteen inches in length, and push it through the middle of a rather small Stilton cheese; then let him wrap the stick above and below the cheese with a red bandage, adorn the cheese with a number of blue spots, and he will have a very good idea of the extraordinary shape which is assumed by the leg of a Carib female.

The women are inordinately fond of the sapuru, and are as scornful respecting those of their own sex who do not wear it as are the Chinese women respecting those who do not wear the “golden lilies.”

These women have a variety of ornaments, but little clothes. Necklaces of various kinds are highly esteemed among them, especially when they are made of the teeth of the jaguar and alligator, inasmuch as such ornaments indicate the prowess of their admirers. The appearance of a Carib woman in full dress is not very attractive. These people are short, thick necked, and awkward looking, and in those respects the women are much worse than the men. Of the ten portraits there is not one that can bear comparison with the female inhabitants of Southern Africa, such as have been figured in the first part of this work. Their short necks are cumbered with row upon row of necklaces, their only dress is a narrow strip of blue cloth, and they have done their best to make themselves entirely hideous by the abominable sapuru.

Then, by way of adding to their attractions, they perforate the under lip, and wear in it one or several pins, the heads being within the mouth and the points projecting outward. Some of the women smear their whole bodies and limbs with the annatto dye, which gives them the appearance as if blood were exuding from every pore; and the reader may well imagine the appearance of such women, with pins sticking through their lips, their bosoms covered with row upon row of necklaces, their reddened limbs variegated with blue spots, and their legs swollen and distorted by the effects of the sapuru.

The Carib men wear an article of dress which is almost exactly like that which is worn by the inhabitants of the Nicobar Islands. It is a narrow but very long scarf, woven from cotton fibre. After passing round the waist and between the legs, it is tucked into the girdle, and then is so long that it can be hung over the shoulder like a Highlander’s plaid. The men are very proud of a good girdle, and adorn it plentifully with cotton tassels, beetles’ wings, and similar ornaments.

Of all the Guianan tribes, the Waraus are least careful respecting dress. Even the women wear nothing but a triangular piece of bark, or a similarly shaped article of apparel formed from the spathe of the young palm leaf. This spathe is also used for a head dress by several tribes. In order to understand the structure of this article the reader must remember that the palm tree is an endogenous plant, and that all the leaves spring from a central shoot. From this same spot there also starts a conical shoot, which contains the flowers. In its earlier stages of development this shoot is covered with a membranous envelope, called a spathe, which bursts in order to allow the enclosed flower-stalk to develop itself. Before it has attained its full development, the spathe is drawn off the flower-stalk and soaked in water for a time, until all the green substance becomes decomposed, and can be washed away from the fibrous framework. The well-known skeleton leaves are prepared in exactly the same manner.

When decomposition is complete, the spathe is carefully washed in running water, so that the whole of the green matter is removed and nothing is left but the tougher fibres. These are tangled together in a very remarkable manner, so as to be very elastic, and to allow the fabric to be stretched in different directions without causing any interstices to appear between them.

In this state the spathe is conical, of a yellow-brown color, and extraordinarily light. A specimen in my possession, though measuring twenty-seven inches in length, weighs barely half an ounce.

When the native wishes to convert the spathe into a cap, he doubles the open end twice, and then makes a deep fold within eight or nine inches of the tip, thus causing it to assume the shape which is seen in the illustration on page 1249. Slight as is the texture of this odd cap, it forms an excellent defence against the rays of the sun, which is the only object of the headdress in such a climate.

The reader will see that the shape, as well as the lightness of the spathe, conduces to its usefulness as an apron as well as a headdress. Such at all events is the only dress for which the Waraus care; and whether on account of the perpetual exposure of their skins, or whether from other causes, the short, stout, sturdy Waraus are much darker than the other tribes—so dark, indeed, that they have been said to approach the blackness of the negro. Mr. Brett thinks their want of cleanliness is one cause of this deeper hue. They are the best native laborers that can be found, and, when they can be induced to shake off their national apathy and fairly begin work, they will do more than any other tribe. Neither do they want so much wages as are required by the other natives, preferring liberal rations of rum to actual wages.

Living as do the Guianan natives in the forests, amid all the wealth of animal life which is found in them, and depending chiefly for their subsistence on their success in hunting, they attain an intimate knowledge of the habits of the various animals, and display considerable skill in taking them. They capture birds, monkeys, and other creatures, not for the sake of killing them, but of domesticating them as pets, and almost every hut has a parrot or two, a monkey, or some such pet attached to it.

The women are especially fond of the little monkeys, and generally carry them on their heads, so that at a little distance they look as if they were wearing a red or a black headdress, according to the species and color of the monkey. They carry their fondness for their animals to such an extent that they treat them in every respect as if they were their children, even allowing them to suck at their breasts in turn with their own offspring.

Dreading the venomous snakes most thoroughly, they have no fear of the non-poisonous kinds, and capture them without difficulty. Mr. Brett saw one of them catch a young coulacanara snake by dropping a noose over its head by means of a forked stick, and then hauling it out and allowing it to coil round his arm. Although a very young specimen, only five feet or so in length, the reptile was so strong that the man was soon obliged to ask some one to release his arm.

Sometimes this snake grows to a great length, and, as it is extremely thick-bodied, is a very dangerous reptile to deal with. Mr. Waterton succeeded in taking a coulacanara fourteen feet long, after a fierce struggle, which is amusingly told in his “Wanderings.” I have seen the skin of this snake in the collection which then adorned Walton Hall.

The skill of these natives is well shown by their success in capturing a cayman with a hook. Mr. Waterton had tried to catch the reptile with a shark hook, but his efforts were unavailing, the reptile declining to swallow the bait, and at last contriving to get it off the hook, though it was tied on with string. After more than one failure, he showed the hook to a native, who shook his head at it, and said that it would not answer the purpose, but that he would make a hook that would hold the cayman.

Accordingly, on the following day he returned with a very remarkable hook. It consisted of four pieces of hard wood about a foot in length, curved, and sharpened at the ends, which were slightly barbed. These barbs, if we may so call them, were tied back to back round the lower end of a rope, a knot in the rope preventing it from dropping through the barbs, which were forced to diverge from each other by four pegs driven between them and the rope. The so-called hook, indeed, was very like a four-pronged Fijian spear, supposing the shaft to be cut off below the prongs, a hole bored through the centre of the cut shaft, and a rope passed through the hole and knotted below the prongs. It is evident that if such an instrument as this were taken into a cayman’s throat, the diverging prongs would prevent it from coming out again, and as long as they remained unbroken, so long would the cayman be held.

This curious hook was then taken to the river side, and baited with an agouti. The end of the rope was made fast to a tree, and the barbed hook suspended about a foot from the water by means of a short stick driven into the bank. The native then took the empty shell of a tortoise, and struck it several blows with an axe, by way of telling the cayman that its meal was ready. The result of the operation justified the Indian’s promise. The cayman could not get at the bait without lifting itself well out of the water, and securing it by a sudden snap; while the resistance offered by the stick caused the projecting barbs to be driven into the reptile’s throat as it fell back into the water.

How the cayman was dragged out of the water, and how Mr. Waterton jumped upon its shoulders, and disabled it by seizing its fore-paws and twisting them on its back, is matter of history. The tale was generally disbelieved at the time, and gave rise to no small amount of banter; but it is a perfectly true one, and the objections to it have long died away. Indeed, one of Mr. Waterton’s men, who was then little more than a mere lad, was, as an old man, in the service of one of my friends, and corroborated every word of the story.

As might be inferred from the natural apathy and indolence of the natives, they have but few games. They only work by fits and starts, and spend a very large proportion of their time in their hammocks, caring little for those contests of skill and strength which are so absorbingly interesting to the inhabitants of cooler and more bracing climates. There is, however, one such game which is played by the Waraus, who have already been mentioned as the stoutest and strongest of the tribes. This game is well described by Mr. Brett:—

“There is also a kind of wrestling, or trial of strength, practised by the Waraus at their drinking-bouts, in which each of the antagonists is furnished with a sort of shield, (see illustration on page 1260), made of the light branches of the itá, cut into equal lengths, and firmly lashed across a frame three or four feet in height, somewhat less in width, and slightly bending outward.

“The front of each shield is painted in various colors, and with some peculiar device, according to the fancy of the owner. From its upper edge arise elastic stems, generally three in number, adorned with colored tassels, and surmounted with streamers made of the same material as the maquarri whips, and not much unlike them. It has altogether a picturesque appearance.

“Each champion grasps the edges of his shield firmly with both hands, and, after various feints and grimaces to throw his opponent off his guard, a clash is heard, as one springs forward, and his shield strikes that of his adversary. The contest is generally one of mere strength, the shield being pushed forward by the whole force of the body, and supported by one knee, while the other leg is extended behind. Sometimes one of the players is able to push the other off the ground, or, by a dexterous slip and thrust on the flank, to send him rolling on the ground. More frequently they remain pressing, panting, and struggling, till exhausted, when the contest ceases by mutual consent.

“It is then a point of Warau etiquette to shake the shields at each other in a jeering manner, with a tremulous motion of their elastic ornaments, and to utter a very peculiar and ridiculously defying sound, something like the whinnying of a young horse. This is generally followed by a hearty, good-humored laugh, in which the bystanders join. Another couple then step forward to engage.”

The itá palm, of which the Warau shields are made, will be briefly described when we come to that singular branch of the Warau tribe which lives in dwellings raised above the surface of the water. It has already been mentioned that the Waraus are celebrated for the excellence of their canoes. They are universally recognized as the chief canoe builders of the whole country, and to them the other tribes resort from considerable distances. Some of these canoes are large enough to hold fifty men, so that very considerable skill is needed in building them without the instruments and measures by which our own boat builders ensure the regularity of their craft.

There are several forms of these canoes. The most important is that which has just been mentioned. It is hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, and is forced into the proper shape partly by means of fire, and partly by wedges and cross planks. The largest of the canoes have the sides made higher by a narrow plank of soft wood, which is laced upon the gunwale, and the seam well caulked. The canoe is alike at both ends, the stem and stern being pointed, curved, and rising well out of the water. There is no keel, and it draws but a few inches of water. This formation would be very awkward in our own rivers; but in those of Guiana, such as the Essequibo, there are so many falls and rapids, that the canoe must be especially adapted for them. This kind of canoe is called a curial, or corial.

The perils of the rapids have been well told by Mr. Brett:—“Advantage is taken of the eddies which are found at the base of the huge rocks that interrupt the stream. The Indians pass from rock to rock by wading, leaping, or swimming, and by means of a hawser haul the boat through the rushing water from one resting point to another, the steersman meantime keeping his seat, and sometimes lashed to it, striving with his large paddle to guide in some degree her course. The waters dashing and foaming amidst the surrounding rocks render this operation as exciting as it is difficult. Still more exciting and dangerous is the task of descending these rapids. The safety of all then depends on the perfect steadiness of those in the canoe, and on the bowman and steersman acting in concert and with instant decision.

“The canoe is kept in the very centre of the current, one of her best hands kneeling, with quick eye and ready paddle, in the bow, and the rest of the men exerting their strength to give her headway. Darting swiftly along, she arrives at the edge of the fall, and, pointing downward, shoots into the surf below it, dashing it up on either side, and leaving her crew alone visible. If all be well, rising above the fall, she obeys the guiding paddles in stem and stern, and dances over the tumbling waves, while her excited crew with a triumphant cry exult at their success.”

Sometimes even the skill of the natives fails to overcome all the difficulties, and the canoe is upset, the crew barely escaping with their lives. It was in descending one of these falls that Mr. Waterton’s canoe was upset, and flung into the Essequibo the precious store of materials from which the wourali is made.

The simplest kind of boat, called by the colonists a “woodskin,” is nothing more than the flexible bark of the purple-heart trees stripped off in one piece, forced open in the middle, tied together at the ends, and so left until dry. In order to prevent these bark canoes from taking in water at the ends, a large lump of clay is pressed firmly into the end, so as to make a barrier against the water. This mode of caulking is necessarily but temporary, and the “back-dam,” as it is called by the colonists, is sure to be washed away sooner or later, according to the state of the river. The reader will remember that a similar appliance of clay is found among the Australian savages.