THE AMAZON

JOSEPH JONES

THE main stream of the Amazon is about 4,000 miles long—long enough that is to go in a circle twice round the British Isles, or 600 miles longer than the voyage from Liverpool to New York. For the lowest 250 miles of its course it is fifty miles wide, or if the Island of Marajo in its mouth be regarded as a huge sand bank, which is what it really is, then it is 200 miles wide at its mouth. In other words, one might take the whole of Scotland, push it into the mouth of this river and leave only a small piece projecting. The Amazon has nineteen very large tributaries, each of which is really a gigantic river in itself, and through these tributaries it is connected with the Orinoco and the River Plata. The Amazon rises near the west coast of South America, about sixty miles from Lima in Peru, and runs into the Atlantic, traversing nearly the whole width of the widest part of South America in its course. Its depth in places is twenty fathoms or 120 feet. It drains an area nearly the size of all Europe, and is the largest body of fresh water in the world. Its average speed of flow is two and a half miles per hour. Hence in going up-stream a boat hugs the bank to avoid the current, whilst in descending it sails in mid-stream in order to obtain full advantage of the same. As may be guessed, progress is quicker down-stream than up. The influence of its flow can be felt 150 miles from the shore. On one occasion the mess-room steward filled the filter direct from the sea when the ship was long out of sight of land, yet the water was only very slightly brackish. The inland navigation of the Amazon and its branches extends over 20,000 miles. The name is supposed to be derived from “Amassona,” the Indian word for “boat-destroyer,” on account of the tidal wave which rages in the channel to the north of the Island of Marajo, and on account of which boats enter by the south channel.

The river is high at the end of the rainy season and low after the dry season, but even at low river the ship in which I sailed, an ocean-going steamer, experienced no difficulty in sailing as far as Manâos. The difference in level is a matter of thirty feet, so that whereas in August you step out of a small boat on to the landing-stage, in October, when the river is about at its lowest, you have to walk on planks, from the boat to the foot of the landing-stage, mount this by a ladder and go ashore.

Being so near the equator, the Amazon is in a warm district. In the coolest part of the ship the temperature used to rise to 84° Fahrenheit in the afternoon, whilst in the sun 120° Fahrenheit was registered, and some of the pitch in the seams of the deck was melted. This was when ascending the river. There is a ten knot breeze from the sea which makes it cooler on returning, but on the inward journey when travelling with the wind and at practically the same speed, one is of course in a dead calm and uncomfortably hot. The river water itself at 6 A. M., was always between 88° Fahrenheit and 89° Fahrenheit.

Besides steamers the Amazon is navigated by battalongs, wooden craft, about twelve yards in length, covered with an awning of palm branches, which come from Peru and elsewhere with native produce, are manned by Indians who live aboard, and which take two months to get back home from Manâos against the stream. Smaller boats are driven by square sails of blue and white cotton, which bear traces of Manchester origin, and there are also native canoes propelled by paddles.

The Indians fish in an interesting manner by means of bow and arrow, with a line attached to the arrow. If they can get a couple of arrows firmly shot in they can usually haul in a river turtle or other large fish. There is a large fish with red flesh which serves the people in some parts instead of beef (cattle being dear). Thus they don’t fulfil the old definition of an angler as “a worm at one end and a fool at the other.” River turtle when caught are laid on their backs, in which position they are helpless, and one on board the ship laid eighty-six eggs at one break whilst in this position. The eggs are spherical, covered with a flexible limy shell, and resemble in appearance a small tennis-ball. They are a treat out there, where eggs are very scarce. The flesh of this kind of turtle is rather tough and not unlike pork.

A great variety of animal life is to be found, including mosquitoes, cockroaches, moths, butterflies, alligators, snakes, tarantulas, centipedes, and grasshoppers.

The savage people, who live some little distance from the river, are of about our average height and build, walnut-coloured, with long straight jet-black hair. In war they fight with bamboo-headed spears and poisoned arrows, the latter propelled by a powerful bow seven feet long. The arrow-heads, of bone, are dipped in snake venom and inflict a mortal wound. The venom is said to be procured by boiling snakes’ heads to extract it from the glands and evaporating the solution to almost dryness. Right inland the tribes often have battles, and the victors kill the women and children of the vanquished. They have a horrible habit of cutting off the heads of girls, skinning them, and curing the skin in such a way that it shrinks, but retains its colour and texture, when they stuff it, producing a head the size of one’s fist, but perfect in shape. They sell them at from £12 to £30 to Europeans, who ought to know better than to buy them.

The civilized people speak the Portuguese language and are of European habits. They are more polite than the British, though this is noticeable by their habits being different from ours rather than by being better. For instance, I have seen a first-class passenger expectorate on the saloon floor when at dinner and never blush, but he would think himself dreadfully impolite if he wore his hat in a restaurant. One is impelled to Max O’Rell’s conclusion that “one nation is not better or worse than another. One nation is different from another, that is all.”

The money is mostly paper, and there is no paper legal tender less than the milreis (2s. 3d. nominally, actually about 7d.). In Pará small change is given in tram tickets.

The vegetable kingdom numbers 17,000 species and is a veritable fairy-land. Orchids, which with us are so highly prized, are much cheaper there. Very many varieties grow quite wild and are little esteemed. I know one man who had an orange tree in his garden and considered it a nuisance. It crowded out some valuable exotic orchids. He would willingly have let any one take it away but no one would have it. The whole country resembles a gigantic greenhouse, and it is not without a touch of annoyance that a Briton sees beautiful palms and other trees wasted on people who do not appreciate them when they would be welcome at home. The hanging roots or tendrils, which grow downwards from the branches until they take root in the ground, are quite strange to us, and they offer great resistance to path-making. The most important tree is the india rubber, Herveia Brasilensis, which is a large tree, and entirely different from the Ficus elasticus, which is commonly called “india rubber” here and grown in rooms. The raw rubber is obtained by incising the bark and collecting the “milk” in a can. A paddle is dipped into this and the milk adhering to it smoked over some burning nuts. This is done with successive dippings until a piece the size of a ham is on the paddle, when a slit is made in the side and the paddle withdrawn. It is quite possible that the wily native may insert a pebble, when he has withdrawn the paddle, since rubber is sold by weight. The best quality is that obtained from the Island of Marajo and known as Island Rubber. This is said to be because a species of nut grows there the smoke of which cures the rubber better than any other kind of smoke. It is said that every kind of rubber requires some admixture of the Pará variety to make it useful in commerce. Many of the rubber cutters live in shanties on the river’s edge and keep a canoe moored at the door. More inland the poorer classes live in mud huts built on a framework of light wood. Some of these when whitewashed make very presentable houses, as seen in the view of the main street of Parentins, where the post-office and neighbouring buildings are all of this sort. The cathedrals are generally handsome buildings, and the post-office at Pará is a pretty structure.

The shops are open fronted and usually have no windows, so that at a short distance one cannot tell of what kind they are unless the goods are displayed outside.

The streets are peculiarly named, for instance “Fifteenth of November Square” (date of foundation of the Republic), “Dr. Guimarez Lane,” and so on.

The cities bear very evident traces of newness. You may see a public square enclosing a tract of virgin soil and except that the palms are planted in straight rows all the vegetation is natural. There are handsome walnut counters in whitewashed stores and burglar-proof safes inside offices which you could demolish with your foot.

Outside the cities the general appearance of the country gives one an idea of what Britain must have been like at the time of the Roman invasion, and shows how civilization spread along the course of the rivers.