Across Unknown South America :: CHAPTER XXI (2)

CHAPTER XXI (2)

The Launching of the Glass Raft—Accidents—The Raft sinking—Saved—Our First Solid Meal—Its Consequences—The Canuma and Secundury Rivers—Marching Back across the Forest to the Relief of the Men left behind—A Strange Mishap—A Curious Case of Telepathy

On September 21st my men had a great discussion. Their courage failed altogether, as they said they had never before seen a boat of that kind, made of glass bottles, and that, even allowing that she would float at all, if we struck a rock where should we be? They declared that, tired as they were, they preferred to go on struggling on foot through the forest rather than get drowned. With his peculiar reasoning, Benedicto said that it was bad enough to die of starvation, but to die of starvation and get drowned as well was too much for him!

It was decided that we should first of all try whether the raft would bear our weight or not. If she did, we would sail in her. If she did not, I would navigate her and they might go on foot.

It was a moment of great excitement and suspense when we launched the Victory. You should have seen the faces of Benedicto and Filippe when she floated on the water as gracefully as a duck. I got on her, and with a punting pole went half-way across the river and back again. Filippe and Benedicto, who had hardly recovered from their astonishment, professed that it was the cleverest thing they had ever seen, and no Brazilian ever would have had such a brilliant idea. They were now anxious to get on board.

First Filippe came and sat himself in front of me, and I saw with some concern the raft sink down considerably into the water. When Benedicto also entered, the framework of our vessel absolutely disappeared under water and only the short necks of the bottles showed above the surface. As we sat astride on the narrow longitudinal platform we were knee-deep in water. We took another small trip in mid-stream, and then decided that we would put the baggage on board and start at once on our journey down the river.

I went back for the baggage and rolled it all up in the waterproof hammock, then fastened it with pieces of liane to the stern of the raft. Filippe and Benedicto fastened their own things also. Having made ourselves some primitive-looking paddles with the bottom of a small empty barrel we had found, which we attached to two sticks, we made ready to start.

Canoe made of the Bark of the Burity Palm.

Indians of the Madeira River.

Filippe and I had already got on board, when Benedicto appeared with a huge punting pole he had cut himself in case we might need it. He was excited over the prospect of having no more walking to do. When he got near he jumped on board so clumsily that the already too heavily laden raft turned over and we were all flung into the water—there 7 ft. deep. When I came to the surface again I just managed to pull the craft ashore and then proceeded to save Benedicto and Filippe, who were struggling in the water, which was too deep for them.

This mishap was unfortunate. My chronometer got full of water and stopped; the aneroids, the camera, all were injured beyond repair. Much to my distress, I also discovered that the watertight cases, which had been knocked about so much of late, had let the water through before I had time to turn the raft the right way up and pull out of the water the baggage which was fastened to it. The four hundred developed negatives had all got soaked. My note-books, too, were drenched through.

Another heavy task was before me now, in order to save all that valuable material. It was to spread everything to dry thoroughly in the wind before it could be packed again.

Filippe and Benedicto were so scared that on no account, they said, would they go on board that raft again. The accident occurred at about nine o'clock in the morning; by one or two o'clock in the afternoon everything was dry and carefully repacked.

We decided to make a fresh start. My feet were so swollen, and with hardly a patch of skin left on them, that I could walk no more. It was agreed that Filippe and Benedicto should go on walking along the left bank as much as possible, while I alone, with the baggage, navigated the river. We would keep in touch by occasional shouts.

I got along pretty well, floating down with the current; but paddling and punting were most difficult, the raft being almost impossible to steer. On several occasions I had narrow escapes, just avoiding striking dangerous rocks—particularly going down a small corrideira.

After I had gone about two kilometres I was so exhausted that I called to Filippe to come on board again. Eventually—and I must say that I admired his courage—he came on board, and the two of us proceeded quite well down the stream, one paddling, the other punting.

We got into a small rapid, where the current was strong. We were unfortunately thrown violently against some rocks, the central bottles of our raft receiving a hard knock. One of them cracked badly. I was quite perplexed when my eye caught sight of the radiations in the glass caused by the impact. Then my ear began to notice the sound of the trickling of water getting inside the bottle. With positive concern, as the garaffon was gradually filling, I saw the raft getting a bad list to port.

The broken garaffon was behind Filippe's back, and he could not see it. He was constantly asking me whether something had gone wrong, as he seemed to feel the water getting higher and higher up his body.

"Is the ship not sinking?" he asked every two minutes. "I now have water up to my waist."

"No, no, Filippe! Go on. It is all right!" were the words with which I kept on urging him.

The cracked bottle had got almost entirely filled with water, and we had such a bad list that the steering became most difficult. Two or three times again we were thrown by the current against other rocks, and another bottle had a similar fate. "We are sinking, are we not?" shouted Filippe.

"No, no!" said I. "Go on!"

As I said those words it suddenly seemed to me that I heard voices in the distance. Was it Benedicto calling to us? Filippe and I listened. Surely there was somebody singing! We fancied we heard several voices. Had Benedicto met somebody in the forest?

"Benedicto! Benedicto!" we shouted out to him. "Have you found men?"

"No!" came the answer from Benedicto.

All of a sudden Filippe, whose eyes had been scanning the river in front of him, gave a violent jerk which nearly capsized the raft, exclaiming:

"Look! look! There is a canoe!"

"It is a rock," said I, as I screened my eye to look on the dazzling water, upon which the sun glittered so that it was almost impossible to perceive anything. But, sure enough, as I strained my eyes a second time, I saw something move, and a moment later I heard voices quite distinctly.

Filippe's joy and mine was intense when we perceived that not only one boat, but two—three canoes were approaching.

We had already travelled some eight kilometres on our raft when we came close to the boats we had observed. Their crews stood up in them, rifles in hand, as we floated down. I shouted that we were friends. Eventually they came to our help, their amazement being curious to watch as they got near us—they being unable to understand how we could float down the river merely by sitting on the surface. By that time the raft was almost altogether submerged. When they took us on board, and a portion of the raft came to the surface again, the amusement of those crews was intense.

I explained who we were. The strangers could not do enough for us. In a moment they unloaded the baggage from our craft and put it on board their boats. They halted near the right bank, and on hearing of our pitiful plight immediately proceeded to cook a meal for us.

The people belonged to the rubber-collecting expedition of a trader named Dom Pedro Nunes, who went only once every year with a fleet of boats up to the headwaters of that river in order to bring back rubber. The expedition—the only one that ever went up that river at all—took eight or ten months on the journey there and back. It was really an amazing bit of luck that we should owe our salvation to meeting that expedition in an almost miraculous way, brought about by an extraordinary series of fortunate coincidences.

Had we not constructed that raft—had we not been on board at that moment—we should have missed the expedition and certainly should have died. Had we been following the bank of the river on foot, we never could have seen the boats nor heard them, as the banks were extremely high, and it was never possible to keep close to the stream when marching in the forest; we always had to keep some hundred metres or so from the water in order to avoid the thick vegetation on the edge of the stream. In fact, Benedicto, who was walking in the forest along the stream, had gone past the boats and had neither heard nor seen them. When we shouted out to him he was already a long distance off, a boat sent out to him by Dom Pedro Nunes having to travel nearly 800 m. before it could get up to him and bring him back.

The trader and his men treated us with tender care. We were practically naked when they met us, my attire consisting of the leather belt with the bags of money round my waist, and a small portion of the sleeveless coat, all torn to pieces. Dom Pedro Nunes immediately gave me some clothes, while his men gave garments to Filippe and Benedicto.

Several men rushed about collecting wood, and in a moment a large flame was blazing. The sight of proper food brought back our appetites as by magic. Our ravenous eyes gazed on several big pieces of anta (Tapirus americanus) meat, through which a stick had been passed, being broiled over the flame. We three starving men did not take our eyes off that meat for a second until the man who was cooking it removed the stick and said the meat was ready. We pounced upon it like so many famished tigers. The meat was so hot that, as we tore away at the large pieces with our teeth, our lips, noses, and fingers were absolutely burned by the broiling fat.

Dom Pedro Nunes gently put his hand in front of me, saying "Do not eat so quickly; it is bad for you." But I pushed him away with what vigour I had left. I could have killed anybody who had stood between that piece of meat and me. I tore at it lustily with my teeth, until there was nothing left of it. By that time a large bag of farinha had been spread before us. We grabbed handfuls of it, shoving them into our mouths as fast as we could.

The sensation of eating—normal food—after such a long fast was a delightful one. But only for a few moments. Pedro Nunes was just handing me a cup of coffee when I dropped down unconscious, rejecting everything with a quantity of blood besides.

When I recovered consciousness, Pedro Nunes said I had been unconscious for a long time. They all thought I was dead. I felt almost unbearable pain in my inside, and a lassitude as if life were about to be extinguished altogether.

It was evidently the reaction, after eating too quickly—and I should like to meet the healthy man who would not eat quickly under those circumstances—and also the relaxation from the inconceivable strain of so many weeks of mental worry.

I well remember how Pedro Nunes and his men, when standing around us just as we began eating that first solid meal, had tears streaming down their cheeks while watching us in our dreadful plight. Once more Pedro Nunes—one of the most kindly men I have ever met—sobbed bitterly when he asked me to take off my clothes and change them for the newer ones he had given me. I removed from my pocket the contents: my chronometer, a notebook, and a number of caju seeds which I had collected, and which, caustic or not caustic, would have been our only food until we should have certainly perished.

We heard from Pedro Nunes that it would have taken us at least six or seven days' steady walking before we could get to the first house of rubber collectors. In our exhausted condition we could have never got there. As for the damaged raft, it could not have floated more than a few hours longer—perhaps not so long.

From the spot where I met Pedro Nunes—quite close to the junction of the Canuma River with the Madeira River—going down by river it would have been possible to reach Manaos in two or three days. Dom Pedro Nunes, however, with his expedition, could not return, nor sell me a boat, nor lend me men; so that I thought my best plan was to go back with him up the River Canuma and then the Secundury River, especially when I heard from the trader that the latter river came from the south-east—which made me think that perhaps I might find a spot at its most south-easterly point where the distance would not be great to travel once more across the forest, back to my men whom I had left near the Tapajoz.

Pedro Nunes declined to receive payment for the clothes he had given me and my men, so I presented him with the Mauser I possessed, which he greatly appreciated; while I gave the crew which had rescued us a present of £20 sterling in Brazilian money.

It was most touching to see how some of the rubber collectors employed by Pedro Nunes deprived themselves of tins of jam to present them to us, and also of other articles which were useful to them in order to make us a little more comfortable.

I purchased from Pedro Nunes a quantity of provisions—all of an inferior kind, but they were the best I could get. Among them were six tins of condensed milk, all he possessed, for which I paid at the rate of ten shillings each—the regular price in that neighbourhood. Those tins of milk were a great joy to Benedicto, Filippe and myself.

Although the pain was violent when we ate anything, the craving for food was now quite insatiable, and we could not resist the temptation of eating whatever came under our hands.

Late in the afternoon of that same day we started up the river with Pedro Nunes and his fleet of boats. In the evening, when we camped, the kindness of the trader and his men towards us was most pathetic. Drenching rain fell during the night.

On September 22nd we made an early start. Pedro Nunes went away in a small boat, as he wanted to go and explore a small tributary of the Secundury. The expedition travelled up the main stream at a great pace, with the many men who were rowing and punting.

Filippe, Benedicto and I suffered horrible internal pains that day owing to our careless eating the previous afternoon.

Caripuna Indians.

Indian Idols of the Putumayo District.

I was greatly worried by the man who had been left in charge of the expedition—a man of extreme kindness, but an incessant talker. He spoke so loudly, repeating the same things over and over again, that in my weak state, and accustomed as we were to the deathly silence of the forest, it tired me inexpressibly. His conversation consisted entirely of accusing everybody he knew of being robbers and assassins, and in long descriptions, with numberless figures, to show how he had been robbed of small sums of money by various people he had met in his lifetime.

I presented him with £10 sterling, hoping that he would keep quiet, as that seemed to be the entire sum of which he had been robbed by his relatives and friends; also because on seeing our wretched condition, he had presented me with an enormous pair of shoes, about six sizes too large for me. When I walked in them, especially up and down the steep banks, I lost now one shoe, now the other, so big were they. But I was grateful to him, as he would not take payment for them, and they saved my feet to a certain extent—when I could keep them on—from the thorns, which were numerous in that region.

The prolonged immersion in the water the day before, while we were navigating the raft, and the subsequent rest, had caused my feet to swell enormously, my ankles being about three times their normal size, so swollen were they. I experienced an unbearable pain in my heart, with continuous heart-burning and sudden throbbings, succeeded by spells of exhaustion. Giddiness in my head was constant, and I was so weak that it was all I could do to move. Even the exertion of shifting from one side to the other of the boat on which I was travelling was enough to make me almost collapse with fatigue.

We travelled great distances, going on all day and the greater part of the night, with relays of men, on September 22nd and 23rd.

The Secundury was a stream with an average width of 60 m. and in many places quite deep. It had a great many little springs and streamlets flowing into it between steep cuts in its high embankments, which were of alluvial formation mingled with decayed vegetation. The banks almost all along were from 40 to 50 ft. high. We came across a large tributary on the right side of the river. It was evidently the stream to which we had first come on our disastrous march across the forest, and which I had mistaken for the Secundury. Beyond this river we came across some small rapids, of no importance and quite easy to negotiate by the large boats, although in one or two cases tow-ropes had to be used by the men who had landed in order to pull the boats through.

On September 23rd we passed some easy corrideiras. I had slept almost that entire day on the roof of the boat, in the sun. It did me good. Late in the evening, at about seven o'clock, we arrived at a trader's hut, called SÃo JosÉ, which was in the charge of a squinting mulatto—a most peculiar fellow.

On September 24th I stayed at the trader's house, spending the whole day drying thoroughly in the sun my notebooks and negatives and repacking them, so that I could leave them at that spot until I could fetch them again. My idea was to walk from that place across the forest once more back to our original point of departure near the Tapajoz River, where I had left the remainder of my party and the main part of my baggage.

A runaway seringueiro was induced to accompany me on that errand, while another man remained with faithful Filippe in charge of my valuable possessions. I left with them supplies for three months, which I had purchased from Pedro Nunes' expedition. On September 25th I went a short distance farther up the river to its most south-easterly point. From there, with two men and provisions for thirty days, bidding goodbye to the men who had saved our lives, we started, still in a weak and exhausted condition, on our march back to the men we had left behind.

We only carried food supplies with us. I had left everything else on the Secundury River. Marching was indeed painful, as I had absolutely no strength, and was in a high fever. I stumbled along in excruciating pain, now losing one shoe, now the other, when they caught in some liana. There were a great many fallen trees in that part of the forest, which gave us no end of trouble, when, exhausted as Benedicto and I were, we had to climb over them or else squeeze under.

So great was my anxiety, however, to get back that, notwithstanding the pain, I marched along, following the new man, who was in good condition. We went 20 kil. that day.

The forest near the Secundury River was at first overgrown with dense vegetation, which gave us a good deal of work and extra exertion; but after that, when we got some distance from the water, the forest was fairly clean, except of course for the fallen trees. We found troublesome ravines of great height where streamlets had cut their way through.

In going down one of those difficult ravines I had an accident which might have been fatal. The ravine, the sides of which were almost vertical, was very narrow—only about 10 m. across. We let ourselves down, holding on to liane. When we reached the bottom we found a tiny brook winding its way between great round boulders, and leaving a space about 2 ft. wide for the water. I proceeded up on the other side, and I had got up to a height of some 30 ft. In order to go up this steep incline I had placed one foot against a small tree while I was pulling myself up by a liana. Unluckily, the liana suddenly gave way. The weight of the load which I had on my shoulders made me lose my balance, so that my body described an entire semicircle. I dropped down head first from that height on the rocks below.

Trading Boats landing Balls of Rubber, River Tapajoz.

Providence once more looked after me on that occasion. On the flight down I already imagined myself dead; but no—my head entered the cavity between the two rocks against which my shoulders and the load became jammed, while my legs were struggling up in mid-air. I was forced so hard against the two side rocks that I could not possibly extricate myself. It was only when Benedicto and the new man came to my help and pulled me out that we were able to resume our journey—I much shaken and somewhat aching, but otherwise none the worse for that unpleasant fall.

On September 26th my two men were already complaining of their loads. They said they could not go on any more—the man in good health and full of strength rebelling more than poor Benedicto, who was in a weak condition. So that we might march quickly I decided to abandon one bag of flour and eight tins of salt butter. With the lighter loads we marched comparatively well, and went 22 kil. that day with no particular experience worth noticing. On September 27th we started once more quite early, after a hearty breakfast—notwithstanding the pain which I always had whenever I ate, especially a stabbing pain in my heart which was almost unbearable at times. We crossed several streamlets, one fairly large, all of which flowed into the Secundury. Rain, which came down in torrents, greatly interfered with our march that day, the new man I had employed worrying me all the time, saying that he did not like to march in wet clothes. Benedicto and I could not help laughing at him, as we had not been dry one moment since the beginning of July, and we were now at the end of September. Wet or not wet, I made the man come along. Finding the forest comparatively clean, we covered another 20 kil. that day. We had a most miserable night, rain coming down in sheets upon us. I was suffering from high fever, chiefly from exhaustion and the effects of over-eating, most injurious to my internal arrangements, which had got dried up during the long sixteen days' fast. I shivered with cold the entire night.

When we got up the next morning, dripping all over, with water still pouring down in bucketfuls upon us from above, Benedicto said that if it went on much longer like that he should surely turn into a fish. He looked comical, with water streaming down from his hair, his ears, nose and coat.

The trousers which our friend Pedro Nunes had given me were made of cheap calico, printed in little checks. They were of the kind that was usually sold to the seringueiros, and looked pretty when they were new. But they were a little too small, and had evidently not been shrunk before they were made. With the great moisture that night they shrank so badly all of a sudden that they split in four or five different places. I had no way of mending them.

As we went on—on September 28th—we encountered a great deal of entangled vegetation, many liane and thorns, which completely finished up my lower garments. My coat also, which was of similar material, was beginning to give signs of wear and tear, the sewing of the sleeves and at the back having burst everywhere.

We were going over almost level ground that day, across forest sparsely wooded and with much undergrowth of palms and ferns. We had drenching rain the entire day. My trousers were in shreds, dangling and catching in everything. When we had gone some eight or ten kilometres they were such a trouble to me that I discarded them altogether. The coat, too, was getting to be more of a nuisance than a protection. Owing to the incessant rain we were only able to march 14 kil. that day.

On September 29th we again started off, marching due east. We had slightly better weather, and were fortunate enough to shoot two monkeys, a coati, and a jacÚ, the new man possessing a rifle of his own, for which I had bought 200 cartridges from our friend Pedro Nunes. We had, therefore, that day, a good meal of meat; but what terrible pain we felt when we devoured the tough pieces of those animals, which we had broiled over a big flame! Notwithstanding the pain, however, we had an irresistible and insatiable craving for food. That day we made a good march of 24 kil.

On September 30th the marching was comparatively easy, through fairly clean forest, so that we had to use our knife very little in order to open our way. We crossed a small campo with a good deal of rock upon it, and as our strength was gradually coming back we struggled along, covering a distance of 34 kil. between seven o'clock in the morning and seven in the evening. I was anxious to push on as fast as we possibly could, notwithstanding the grumblings of my men, for now that we had abandoned half of our supplies of food I did not want to have, if I could help it, another experience of starvation.

On October 1st we had more trouble cutting our way through, as we again found great ferns and palms, especially near streamlets of water, and quantities of fallen trees, which made us continually deviate from our direction. The forest was indeed dirty and much entangled in that section, and thus made our march painful, liane catching my feet and head all the time, tearing my ears and nose—especially when the man who walked in front of me let them go suddenly and they swung right in my face. Thorns dug big grooves into my legs, arms and hands. To make matters worse, the high fever seemed to exhaust me terribly. Worse luck, a huge boil, as big as an egg, developed under my left knee, while another of equal size appeared on my right ankle, already much swollen and aching. The huge shoes given me by the trader—of the cheapest manufacture—had already fallen to pieces. I had turned the soles of them into sandals, held up by numerous bits of string, which cut my toes and ankles very badly every time I knocked my feet against a tree or stone. My feet were full of thorns, so numerous that I had not the energy to remove them. The left leg was absolutely stiff with the big boil, and I could not bend it.

Limping along, stumbling all the time in intense pain—the boils being prevented from coming to maturity owing to the constant cold moisture—I really had as painful a time as one could imagine on those long marches back.

On October 2nd we had to cut our way through all the time, still marching due east. We encountered two high hill ranges, which gave us a lot to do as in our weak condition we proceeded to climb them. We had eaten more food than we should have done, and the result was that we now had none left, except a tin of guyabada (sweet cheese). I had become almost as improvident as the Brazilians when it came to food, as I could not resist the temptation, and instead of the usual three meals a day we were munching food all the time.

Itaituba.

The strong fever was wearing me out. The dissatisfaction of my men because we had no more food—it was their own fault, for they had insisted on leaving most of it behind—and their constant grumbling were tiring me to death. We killed a small bird in the evening. By the time we had broiled it over a flame it satisfied but little our ravenous appetites.

On October 3rd we reached quantities of boulders and rocks, which showed me that we were once more approaching the extensive rocky table-land I had seen on our outward journey. As we climbed up higher and higher we came to an elevated streamlet of limpid water running in a channel carved out of the solid rock. It took us over two hours' steady marching, going perhaps some 2½ miles an hour, to cross the summit of that high rocky tableland. Then we descended through chapada and found ourselves among a lot of ravines, on the slope of one of which we halted for the night. There we killed two large monkeys, which we proceeded to broil and eat. I never liked the idea of eating monkeys, as I could not get over the feeling that I was eating a child, they looked so human. The hands and arms particularly, after they had been roasted over the fire, looked too human for words.

On October 4th we climbed a steep and rocky hill, crossing on its summit another section of the rocky plateau, a regular dome of grey volcanic rock. Then, descending from this second tableland on its eastern side, we had to struggle and stumble through most rugged country, where I found an extinct circular crater some 50 ft. in diameter and 50 ft. deep, with a vent at an angle in its bottom going apparently to a great depth. Near that spot was also a strange giant natural gateway of rock.

The descent was steep, and most trying for us among the great boulders over which we had to climb on our hands and feet. When we got to the bottom of this elevated country, the forest we found had quite a different aspect, which suggested to me the approach of the big river. We found there plenty of wild fruit, particularly some small black berries—called in Brazilian pattaÕa—quite good to eat; also some most palatable tiny red cherries. We wasted a good deal of time picking up the fruit instead of marching, my men complaining all day long of an empty stomach. They would not take my advice to march quickly, so that we might then get plenty of food on the river. During the last few days, as I knew we must have been near the camp where I had left my men in charge of my baggage, we had constantly been firing sets of three shots—the agreed signal—in order to locate the exact spot where they were. But we had received no answer. Failing that, it was impossible to locate them exactly in the virgin forest, unless we had plenty of time and strength at our disposal.

I made sure, by the appearance of the forest, that we were now not far off from the stream. In fact, on October 5th, when we had marched some distance, much to my delight as I walked ahead of my men, who were busy picking up berries as they struggled along, I recognized a little streamlet on which I had made my camp the first night I had started out on our disastrous journey across the forest.

My men, when I mentioned the fact, were sceptical and said it could not possibly be, as we must still be a long distance from the Tapajoz. But we had only gone a few hundred metres farther when I came upon my old camp. There an empty sardine-tin of a special mark which I carried was lying on the ground.

I think that that spoke pretty well for the accuracy with which I could march across the forest by compass. I knew that at that spot we were only 6 kil. from the river. We indulged there in the last tin of the sweet guyabada, which I had kept for an emergency. After that we metaphorically flew through the forest, so fast did we march—if stumbling along constantly and even occasionally falling can be called flying. Even at that last moment, when our hearts were rejoiced, our progress was impeded by a thunderstorm, which broke out with such force that we had to halt for nearly two hours until it slightly abated. The wind howled among the trees, which shook and waved to and fro, some crashing down, so that, with the thunder and lightning and the rush of the water, it seemed a regular pandemonium.

"The devil is angry with us," said Benedicto the philosopher. "He does not want us to get back."

My impatience to get quickly to the river was so great that I could not wait for the storm to be over. In the drenching rain we continued our tramp. My sandals had given way altogether in the quick march that day, and I was once more walking with bare feet. Marching so quickly, one did not always have time to detect thorns. That day my feet were indeed in a pitiable condition.

The last trial of all was yet to be added, when we had come to within 300 m. of the river. The seringueiro, from whose hut we had started on our way out, had evidently since our departure set the forest on fire in order to make a roÇa so as to cultivate the land. Hundreds of carbonized trees had fallen down in all directions; others had been cut down. So that for those last two or three hundred metres we had to get over or under those burned trees and struggle through their blackened boughs, the stumps of which drove holes into and scratched big patches of skin from my legs, arms and face. Where the skin was not taken off altogether it was smeared all over with the black from the burnt trees. We did not look unlike nigger minstrels, with the exception that we were also bleeding all over.

A Trading Boat on the Tapajoz River.

The S.S. "Commandante Macedo."

What had remained of my poor coat had been torn to shreds, so that all I possessed now in the way of clothing was a shirt. As the seringueiro had a wife I could not well appear in that condition before her when we had reached the hut. Hiding behind a tree, we shouted for the seringueiro to come to our assistance. Benedicto, who was not so bashful, and whose costume was not much better than mine, proceeded to the house.

A few minutes later, as I peeped from behind my tree, I had a moment of great joy. I had been wondering during the last few days whether my men had died in the forest, or what could have become of them, as we had not received an answer to our signals. There I saw Alcides rush out of the house and run toward me. His cheeks streamed with tears. "Senhor! Senhor!" he sobbed, embracing me.

Antonio, who followed behind, came up and shook hands, merely saying "Good morning!"

"Where is white Filippe? Where is the man X?" I hastily inquired, in order to make sure that they were still alive.

"They are fishing on the river." Alcides called out to them: "Come quickly! 'El Senhor' has returned!"

White Filippe immediately ran up, but the man X shouted back that he was busy fishing; he would come up later. Alcides was much upset on seeing my plight. He ran immediately into the hut and got me some clothes from the seringueiro, which I put on before entering the house. The seringueiro was kindness itself to me, most thoughtful and hospitable. He prepared some food for us at once. That was a day of joy and sadness combined. I found that all my men were safe, but that they had abandoned all my baggage and all my collections in the forest. They believed that I had been assassinated by Indians or that I had died of starvation.

Alcides cried like a child for some time. He and the others were ill with fever. Those men I had left in charge of my baggage at the camp in the forest had remained at that camp for seven days after my departure. Believing that I was never coming back, three of them had abandoned everything there, and even their companion Antonio, who was in a dying condition and was unable to walk. They had proceeded quickly to the Tapajoz, where they had found plenty to eat. Two or three days later Antonio had become better; he had shot some monkeys and birds, and had been able to keep alive. Had it not been for the kind-hearted seringueiro, Albuquerque, who had started out to rescue Antonio, the poor devil would have certainly died there, abandoned by everybody.

I heard stories that day which pained me a great deal. When my men believed that I was lost in the forest the man X had proposed to his companions to follow the picada I had cut in order to find my body and rob me of all the money which he knew I carried. "If he is alive," he had said to his companions, "we will cut his throat once for all, and we will divide the money amongst ourselves."

It was with some difficulty that Alcides had prevented him from smashing all my baggage open, as he wished to divide the contents with his companions. Alcides was an honest man. He had stood up against that rascal. After a severe fight it had been decided that the baggage should be left intact in the forest until such authorities as could be sent up from the Fiscal Agency could visit the spot and take charge of my things.

It was then that I understood why the man X was now ashamed to face me, and did not come to greet me after I had nearly sacrificed my life to save him and his companions.

Albuquerque, the seringueiro, had also been considerate enough to lift my baggage upon stones and then cover it up with palm leaves, so that it should be preserved as much as possible from moisture and ants. During the month they had been back on the Tapajoz the man X had once taken a journey alone to the spot where the baggage and Antonio had been left, hoping to find his companion dead and so rob him of the money which he knew he had in his possession—the pay he had received from me.

Here is another charming incident. Nearly dead with fatigue, I lay helpless in a hammock which the seringueiro had hung for me. He and his wife had gone out to look after their new plantation, and only my men remained loafing about.

The river was some 60 m. from the hut, and one had to go down a steep bank to reach the water. My throat was parched from the high fever, so I called Antonio, who was near me, to give me a glass of water. Antonio never budged, but called to white Filippe, some way off, to bring the water. Filippe called to the man X, repeating my order to him. The man X continued fishing without taking the slightest notice.

So that, exhausted as I was, I had to struggle down to the river myself, as those men, for whom I had almost died, reciprocated my sacrifice in so graceful a fashion.

I think that I might as well mention here a curious case of telepathy which occurred during those terrible days of starvation.

Naturally, when one has before one the prospect of leaving this world at any moment, and one is working under a severe mental strain, one generally thinks deeply of one's beloved parents and relatives. Thus my father, mother and sister were before me all the time in my imagination. Sometimes when I was half-dazed I could see them so vividly that I could almost believe they were so close that I could touch them. I never thought that I should see them again, in reality, although I never actually lost hope of doing so; but I was thinking incessantly of them, and of the anxiety I was causing them, as I had had no possible way of communicating with them for months and months.

There would be nothing extraordinary in that, but the amazing part of it all was that my parents and my sister—who had no idea whatever that I was exploring, as I always take the greatest care not to let them know—actually during that time of starvation saw me in their imagination lying unconscious in the forest, dying of hunger, swarming all over with ants and surrounded by crocodiles.

When I reached Rio de Janeiro in April of the following year I found there a number of letters which had been written to me by my parents and my sister during the month of September, in which they told me of those constant visions repeating themselves daily, especially between the dates of September 8th and September 24th. Those letters were written long before anybody knew that I had ever suffered from starvation in the forest. It is quite remarkable that, except the crocodiles—which, of course, were not to be found in the forest—they reproduced the conditions with wonderful faithfulness, the telepathic connection having in that case been established vividly at a distance of several thousand miles.

Colonel R. P. Brazil and his Charming Wife.

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