JOURNEY FROM THE FORESTS OF TAMBOPATA TO THE PORT OF ISLAY.

Establishment of the plants in Wardian cases.

On May 11th Mr. Weir completed the packing of the plants, and we were preparing for the journey up into the pajonales on the following day, having previously fixed on the Calisaya-trees from which we intended to obtain a supply of seeds in August, when Gironda received an ominous letter from Don JosÉ Mariano Bobadilla, the Alcalde Municipal of Quiaca, ordering him to prevent me from taking away a single plant; to arrest both myself and the person who had acted as my guide; and to send us to Quiaca.[345] I found that an outcry against my proceedings had been raised by Don Manuel Martel, the red-faced man whom I had met on the road to Sandia, and that the people of Sandia and Quiaca had been excited by assertions that the exportation of cascarilla-seeds would prove the ruin of themselves and their descendants. Gironda, though friendly and hospitable, feared that the finger of scorn would be pointed at him, as the man who had allowed the stranger to injure his countrymen. He wanted to throw away all the plants, except a few which we might take without observation, and, if we had not kept constant guard over them, he would have carried his views into effect without consulting us. I saw that in an immediate retreat was the only hope of saving the plants; and I explained to Gironda that his views were incorrect, and that, if necessary, we were prepared to defend our property by force.

At the same time I addressed a letter to Don JosÉ Bobadilla, stating that his interference was an unwarrantable step which I would not tolerate; and that, as I understood the provisions of the Constitution of 1856, the functions of the Juntas Municipales were purely consultative and legislative, conferring no executive powers whatever, concluding with an expression of my sense of his patriotic zeal, and of regret that it should be accompanied by such misguided and lamentable ignorance of the true interests of his country. Nevertheless, I felt the imperative necessity of immediate flight, especially as I obtained information from an Indian of Quiaca that Martel's son and his party, who had brought the letter, were only the vanguard of a body of mestizos, who were coming down the valley to seize me, and destroy my collection of chinchona-plants.

Early in the morning of May 12th we took leave of our kind and hospitable old friend Gironda, without whose assistance we should have been exposed to much suffering from want of food; and of the honest forester Martinez. I expressed my sincere regret to Gironda that any misunderstanding should have arisen at the close of our acquaintance, and promised Martinez to obtain guarantees that he should suffer no molestation on account of the services he had rendered to me. The most melancholy part of travelling is the parting with friends, never to meet again.

After a laborious ascent through the forest we found Martel's son and his party stationed on the verge of the pajonal. They were evidently waiting for us, but did not attempt to impede our passage, and a display of my revolver, although it may have been very efficacious, was perfectly harmless, as the powder was quite damp. The young Martel asked the Indians in Quichua how they dared to carry the plants, and called after them that they would be seized at Sandia; but he was civil to me, and we continued our journey peaceably, though full of apprehensions at the turn affairs might take on our arrival at Sandia.

We had to cross the same country as we had traversed in our journey to the Tambopata valley; and, in skirting along the verge of a ridge, near the Marun-kunka, the cargo-mule fell headlong down a precipice of twenty feet, into a dense mass of trees and underwood. We could see the poor beast's legs kicking in the air, but it was long before we could reach her, and more than two hours before a circuitous path could be cut and cleared away to extricate her. We encamped on the pajonal, and next day, after a very laborious walk of twelve hours, we reached the Ypara tambo, in the valley of Sandia, Mr. Weir having collected twenty plants of Calisaya Josephiana on the way. On May 14th we continued our journey towards Sandia, and collected fifty-five more plants of Calisaya Josephiana on the pajonal of Paccay-samana, chiefly seedlings.

The water of the numerous cascades is very refreshing, and as beautiful in its limpid transparency as when it dashes down the rocks in dazzling streams of purest white. We were now too in the land of luscious oranges and chirimoyas. The commonest bird in the valley of Sandia is the cuchu, a kind of large crow, with a shrill weak caw. It has a long yellow bill, greenish-brown body and wings, rump-feathers red, and a long bright yellow tail, with a black line down the centre. The cuchus walk about the fields eating the young maize, and perch upon the adjoining trees. Humming-birds are numerous, and very beautiful; I saw also a little cream-coloured hawk, and lordly eagles were soaring over the ravine, having their eyries in the inaccessible parts of the lofty cliffs. Approaching Sandia in the early morning of May 15th, I came upon many groups of Indians, with their wives and daughters, who had slept in the road, on their way to and from their coca-harvests. They were boiling their breakfasts of potatoes over little fires of dry sticks, which crackled pleasantly. Grand precipices towered up on either side of the valley, and in the bottom, where the bright river was murmuring on its way, there was a hut in a field of maize, surrounded by the drooping crimson flowers of the "love-lies-bleeding," with a girl in a bright blue woollen dress sitting at the door.

On arriving at Sandia I went through the ceremony of paying off my Indians, and taking leave; and Vilca, Ccuri, and Quispi returned to their homes. I formed a very high opinion of the Indian character from my experience with these my fellow-labourers. Suspicious they certainly were at times, and with good reason after the treatment they have usually met with from white men, but willing, hard-working, intelligent, good-humoured, always ready to help each other, quick in forming the encampments, conversing quietly and without noise round the camp-fires, and always kind to animals; altogether very efficient and companionable people.

I found things at Sandia in a very alarming state; most of the people had been excited by letters from Quiaca to prevent me from continuing my journey with the chinchona-plants, and a sort of league had been made with other Juntas Municipales to protect their interests, and prevent foreigners from injuring them. The tactics which were adopted would have succeeded in their object, but for a great piece of good luck. I was prevented from hiring mules, except to go to Crucero, where I knew Martel was stationed, with the intention of raising obstacles to my further progress until the plants had been killed by the frost. I was in despair, and meditated setting out on foot, with all the four bundles of plants on my own mule, when Don Manuel Mena told me confidentially that, if I would give him my gun, he would get an Indian to supply beasts, and accompany me to Vilque, on the road to Arequipa. I willingly agreed to this bargain, and sent Mr. Weir and Pablo to Crucero, so as to throw Martel off the scent, while I hurried the plants down to the coast by the most unfrequented line of country.

An alarm had, however, been spread through all the villages bordering on the chinchona forests, both in Caravaya and Bolivia, and I ascertained that effectual measures had been taken to prevent my return for seeds in August. Martel had also written to the towns and villages between Crucero and Arequipa, to put obstacles in the way of my retreat, so that I found it necessary to avoid entering any town or village, and to shape a direct compass-course over the cordilleras from Sandia to Vilque. I also reluctantly abandoned my intention of returning to collect seeds in August, and made the best arrangements in my power to obtain a supply, through a reliable agent, in the ensuing year. Martel was a mischievous meddling fellow, but the members of the Juntas Municipales may have been influenced by misguided zeal for the interests of their country, and for the preservation of a strict monopoly in a trade which has ceased to exist, for no bark is now-exported from Caravaya.

In the morning of May 17th I left Sandia on my own trusty mule, driving two others with the plants before me, and accompanied by their owner on foot, an Indian named Angelino Paco, a middle-aged respectable-looking man, who had been one of the Alcaldes of Sandia in 1859. Mr. Weir started for Arequipa on the same day, by way of Crucero. Passing through Cuyo-cuyo without stopping, I continued to ascend a mountain-gorge, by the side of the stream, but Paco had never been out of the valley of Sandia before, and was useless as a guide. All along the banks of the stream there were square pools dammed up and filled with heaps of potatoes and ocas, placed there to freeze into chuÑus, the principal food of the Indians when in the forests, or on the coffee or coca estates. Higher up the gorge all signs of habitation cease, though there are still abandoned tiers of ancient terraces, and the mountain scenery is quite magnificent. Night coming on without a moon, I halted under a splendid range of frowning black cliffs, and succeeded in pitching the tent in the dark, but there was no fuel, and on opening the leathern bag I found that my little stock of food and lucifer-matches had been stolen in Sandia. I was thus entirely dependent for existence on Paco's parched maize, which proved uncommonly hard fare. The cold was intense during the night, and penetrated through the tent and clothes to the very marrow.

At daybreak Paco and I loaded the mules, and continued to ascend the gorge by the side of the river of Sandia, which becomes a noisy little rill, and finally falls, as a thin silvery cascade, over a black cliff. Reaching the summit of the snowy cordillera of Caravaya, we commenced the journey over lofty grass-covered plains, where the ground was covered with stiff white frost. There were flocks of vicuÑas on the plain, and huallatas, large white geese with brown wings and red legs, on the banks of the streams; but as we advanced even these signs of life ceased, and, when night closed in, I looked round on the desolate scene, and thought that to make a direct cut across the cordilleras to Vilque by compass-course was a very disagreeable way of travelling, though, in this case, a necessary one. I had been eleven hours in the saddle, when Paco found an abandoned shepherd's hut, built of loose stones, three feet high, and thatched with ychu grass. The minimum thermometer, during the night, was as low as 20° Fahr. by my side.

At daylight on May 19th Paco complained of having to rise before the sun, although he must have been half-frozen. The mules had escaped, and we were fully three hours in catching them. The ground was covered with a crisp frost, and during the forenoon we were traveling over the same lofty wilderness, consisting of grassy undulating hills, with ridges of cliffs, and huge boulders here and there. The view was bounded on the north and east by the splendid snowy peaks of the Caravayan range, and to the north-west by those of VilcaÑota. The only living things, in these wild solitudes, are the graceful vicuÑas, which peered at us with their long necks from behind the grassy slopes, the guanacos, the biscaches burrowing amongst the rocks, and the huallatas or large geese on the margins of streams or pools of water.

At about noon we began to descend a rocky dangerous cuesta, where there was much trouble with the mules, which were constantly attempting to lie down and roll with the plants. The steep descent led into the plain of Putina, which was covered with flocks of sheep, with small farms, shaded by clumps of queÑua-trees, nestling under the sandstone cliffs which bound the plain. Crossing another range, we reached a swampy plain, with sheep and cattle scattered over it, and stopped at an abandoned shepherd's hut, the exact counterpart of last night's lodging. I had been ten hours in the saddle, and was faint from hunger, but had to go supperless to bed. Paco was nearly breaking down from a bad wound in his foot, but I bandaged it with lint, and he was able to proceed. He had an alco or Peruvian dog with him, which was devotedly attached to its master. These dogs are something like Newfoundlands, only much smaller, generally black or white, and seldom bark.

On the morrow the way, for the first two hours, led over grassy hills covered with flocks of sheep, with shepherd-lads playing on pincullus, or flutes, the sound of which came floating pleasantly on the air, from every direction far and near. We passed several blue mountain-lakes, with islands of rushes, and many ducks. From 10 A.M. until sunset the whole day was occupied in crossing a vast plain covered with sheep and cattle, and just after sunset we reached a small estancia or sheep-farm. It was occupied by a large family of good-tempered Indians, whose eyes glistened when I offered them a cesto of coca which I had with me, in exchange for unlimited supplies of milk and cheese. It was pleasant to see their happiness at the acquisition of this treasure, which was shared by the children and dogs. The place was full of guinea-pigs, which are considered great delicacies. The extreme hunger from which I had suffered since leaving Sandia was here relieved by plenty of milk, cheese, and parched maize. Every night I had wrapped the Russian mats, which enveloped the plants, in warm ponchos, and the tent. The crooked wriggling queÑua-branches, which formed the roof of the hut, looked like snakes in the dim light after sunset.

At sunrise on May 21st there was a white frost, and the deep blue sky was without a single cloud. Suddenly an immense flock of flamingos, called parihuanas[346] in Quichua, rose in a long column from the margin of the river of Azangaro, which flows through the plain. These birds, with their crimson wings, and rose-coloured necks and bodies, whirring up in a long spiral column, formed one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw.

Crossing a range of rocky hills, we entered a plain, which extended to the banks of a large lake, with the little town of Arapa built along the shore. Dark mountains rise up immediately in the rear. I believe that I am the first English traveller who has ever visited this lake, and M. de Castelnau, who obtained some information respecting it at Puno, says that it is not to be found in any map.[347] Along the shores there were long rows of flamingos, standing like a gigantic regiment, with a few skirmishers thrown out fishing. There were also huallatas, ibises, ducks, and a stout-built stunted sort of crane. Journeying on, we began to cross a vast plain which extends for many leagues round the north-west corner of lake Titicaca, and is dotted with walled estancias and flocks of sheep. At length we reached the ford over the river of Azangaro, in sight of the little village of Achaya, to the left. The water came above the mules' bellies, and, crossing half a mile of swampy ground, we came to another ford over the river of Pucara. The two rivers, uniting just below Achaya, form the Ramiz, the largest feeder of lake Titicaca. We continued our way for many hours over the plain, until we reached an Indian's hut long after dark, having been twelve hours in the saddle, at the slow tedious pace of a tired mule. The cargo-mules had played every kind of vicious trick throughout the day, running off in different directions at every opportunity, and constantly trying to roll.

Starting at daybreak on the 22nd, we forded the river of Lampa, crossed the road between Lampa and Puno, passed over a rocky cordillera and a wide plain, and reached the little town of Vilque by four in the afternoon. The place presented a very different appearance from the time when we passed through it in March, on our way to Puno. It was now the time of the great yearly fair, when buyers and sellers from every part of South America flock to the little sierra town. This great gathering was first established in the time of the Spaniards, and it is not improbable that the Jesuits, who once possessed the great sheep-farm of Yanarico near Vilque, and who always looked well after the improvement of their property, may have been the great promoters of the fair.

Outside the town there were thousands of mules from Tucuman waiting for Peruvian arrieros to buy them. In the plaza were booths full of every description of Manchester and Birmingham goods; in more retired places were gold-dust and coffee from Caravaya, silver from the mines, bark and chocolate from Bolivia, Germans with glass-ware and woollen knitted work, French modistes, Italians, Quichua and Aymara Indians in their various picturesque costumes—in fact, all nations and tongues. In the plaza, too, there were excellent cafÉs and dining-rooms, all under canvas; but house-rent was exorbitant, and a lodging was not to be had for love or money. There was much complaint of the injury done to trade by the threatened war with Bolivia, and the edict of President Linares, prohibiting all intercourse with Peru.

I placed the bundles of plants, carefully wrapped round with ponchos, in a barley-field occupied by arrieros, covered over with their warm aparejos; but the thermometer was down to 23° Fahr. in the night.

In the afternoon of the 23rd I left Vilque for the sheep-farm of Taya-taya, in company with Dr. Don Camillo Chaves the superintendent. The road was crowded with people coming from Arequipa to the fair at Vilque: native shopkeepers, English merchants coming to arrange for their supplies of wool, and a noisy company of arrieros on their way to buy mules, and armed to the teeth with horse-pistols, old guns, and huge daggers, to defend their money-bags. Many of them were good-looking fellows, the older ones bearing signs of hard drinking.

The sheep-farm of Taya-taya,[348] four leagues from Vilque, is a large range of mud-plastered buildings with thatched roofs, built round a large patio, on a bleak plain surrounded by mountains. In the morning a flock of forty llamas were being laden with packs of wool in the patio, at which they were making bitter lamentations. We started early on May 24th, and encountered a cold gale of wind, blowing in icy squalls over the cordillera. I reached the posthouse of Cuevillas in the night, a distance of 45 miles; got as far as the posthouse of Pati the next day; encountered a tremendous gale of wind on the skirts of the volcano of Arequipa, but descended to the valley of Cangallo on the 26th; and rode into the city of Arequipa, with my plants, on the morning of the 27th of May. Mr. Weir arrived from Crucero on the 29th, having, as I expected, found Martel in that town, whose designs were thus baffled. From Sandia to Arequipa is a distance of nearly 300 miles. No opposition was made to my departure from Arequipa, although the local newspaper had something to say afterwards,[349] and on June 1st the plants were safely deposited by the Wardian cases at the port of Islay.

"John of the Fountain" had provided plenty of soil, and by the 3rd all the plants were established in the Wardian cases by Mr. Weir. But the difficulties of getting the plants out of the country were not entirely ended by my escape from Martel and the Juntas Municipales of the interior. The Superintendent of the custom-house of Islay declared it to be illegal to export cascarilla-plants, and refused to allow them to be shipped without an express order from the Minister of Finance and Commerce at Lima. He had probably received intelligence respecting the contents of the cases from Vilque, where all news centres at the time of the fair. This obliged me to go to Lima to obtain the necessary order from Colonel Salcedo, the Minister of Finance, which, after much difficulty, I succeeded in doing, and returned with it to Islay on June 23rd.[350]

Meanwhile, since the plants had been established in the Wardian cases, they had begun to bud and throw out young leaves, which seemed to prove that they had quite recovered from their journey across the arctic climate of the Andes. In the evening of the 23rd the cases were hoisted into a launch, ready to go on board the steamer on the following morning; and during the night attempts were made to bribe the man in charge to bore holes and kill the plants by pouring in boiling water, but without success. On the following day they were safely lodged on board the steamer bound for Panama.

It was impossible not to feel regret that H. M. steamer 'Vixen,' then lying idle at Callao, had not been ordered to take the plants direct across the Pacific to Madras, when a majority would have arrived in perfect order. But this was not to be, and we had to look forward to long voyages, several trans-shipments, and the intense heat of the Red Sea, before this most valuable collection of plants could reach their destination in Southern India.

Yet it could not but be satisfactory to look back upon the extraordinary difficulties we had overcome, the hardships and dangers of the forests, the scarcity of the plants, the bewildering puzzle to find them amidst the dense underwood, the endeavour to stop my journey first at Tambopata and then in Sandia, the rapid flight across unknown parts of the cordillera, and the attempts first to stop and then to destroy the plants at Islay: it was a source of gratification to look back upon all this, and then to see the great majority of the plants budding and looking healthy in the Wardian cases.

The climate at Islay, during the time that the plants remained there, was as follows, from the 1st to the 24th of June:—

The temperature is almost exactly the same as that of the Tambopata forests in May; but the forests were always exceedingly moist, while Islay is intensely dry. This, however, was unimportant to the plants in their cases.