270 



THE INDIA RUBBER WORLD 



[May i, 1910. 



"Barca," or Native Boat, Para Rives. 



We hastened to get our luggage stowed, fortunately exchang- 

 ing our cabin on the saloon deck for one on the upper deck with 

 more room and better air. Then we went out and took a long 

 last look at the beautiful island that had been our resting place 

 for thirteen happy days. 



Having looked this look, we threw coppers to the diving boys, 

 chatted with the harbor police, and went in and smoked. At 5 

 o'clock we came out and took a last long look at the beautiful 

 island that had been our resting place for thirteen happy days. 



Then we went to the cabin, rearranged our baggage, put on 

 rubber soled shoes, smoked a pipe, and at 6 o'clock went out 

 on deck and took a last long look at the island that had been 

 our resting place for thirteen happy days. 



At 6 :30 the agent came aboard, then three boats filled with 

 females and luggage— two females and several tons of luggage. 

 The females were dusky of hue, and the luggage was done up in 

 wicker baskets, bed quilts, and paper boxes. At last the side 

 ladder was up, the anchor weighed, and we went on deck to take 

 a last long look at the island that had been our resting place 

 for thirteen happy days. 



at sea again. 



We had dinner that night in a cozy little saloon decorated 

 with a variety of foreign flags, to please no doubt the somewhat 

 varied assortment of humans who fronted the viands. There 

 were Barbadians, Brazilians, Peruvians, Mexicans, Swiss, Ger- 

 mans, English, and Americans, and an interesting lot of engi- 

 neers returning for a fresh attack upon the jungle for the 

 Madeira-Mamore railroad. 



The smoking room crowd told weird tales of fevers, sicknesses, 

 and deaths, all of which we discounted, for were they not going 

 back, and was not the ship's doctor, a quiet, healthy man, going 

 up the river for his thirtieth visit? Still the stories were en- 

 trancing, especially when they described that mysterious berri- 

 berri that begins in the legs and ends sooner or later in' complete 

 paralysis. 



The third day out I awoke with a feeling of numbness in my 

 legs. When I walked the deck it was quite painful. Remem- 

 bering the vivid descriptions of berri-berri that I had heard from 

 convalescents in the smoking room the night before, the absence 

 of fever, the way it affects the legs, and so on, I began to think. 

 Nor was I at all reassured when the ship's doctor halted beside 



Canoe Harbor at Para. 



me as I leaned over the rail, and looking at me keenly said: 



"How do your legs feel?" 



"Oh, so so," I said truthfully — for they did, only the left felt 

 more so than the right. 



"Humph ! Thought the combination of hot decks and rubber 

 soled shoes might have lamed you a bit. It does most," he an- 

 swered, and my depression vanished. 



Outside of the boat, her officers, and passengers, there was 

 only the monotony of the bounding billow. No gulls, whales, 

 sharks, or sails. Even Halley's comet, which should have been 

 visible each night, was regularly obscured by clouds. And as 

 for sunsets we didn't have a pretty one on the whole voyage. 

 One evening three little Peruvian girls played a trio on the piano, 

 then one of them played while the others danced a graceful 

 fandango. Between whiles there was talk of Neptune coming 

 aboard, and those who had never crossed the equator got very 

 nervous and asked innumerable questions. 



I think it was at dinner that the Peevish Passenger who had 

 only just been able to crawl down to table, catching a twinkle 

 in the Captain's eye, groaned : 



"Here comes the whiskey joke." 



"I'm a sailor twenty-six years an' I say water's a fine thing — 

 with a drop of whiskey in it," announced the Captain. [Much 

 applause.] 



Another twinkle of the same eyes. 



"It's eggs this time," whispered the P. P. 



"If I 'ad my life to live hover again 1 wouldn't go on as much 

 water as would boil two eggs," said the Captain. [More 

 applause.] 



Suddenly the Peevish Passenger arose. 



"I'm sick." he said, looking at the humorist. 



"Wot of?" inquired the Captain. 



"Of them eggs. This is the tenth v'y'ge you've served 'em up, 

 and they're getting stale," and lie stalked unsteadily out. 



All the voyage it was the same. Every one who knew enough 

 took quinine, loafed, read, and kept generally quiet. Indeed, 

 although, the sea was not unusually rough, the boat rolled so con- 

 stantly that the best sailors among the passengers frankly acknowl- 

 edged their discomfort. It was not so much the fault of the boat; 

 it was the cross seas stirred up by the steadily blowing trade winds 

 that made the mischief, and we were all thankful when the light 

 off Salinas (on the Brazilian coast) was sighted and we picked 

 up a pilot for the hundred-mile run up the river Tocantins to 

 the city of Para — or Belem — the last lap of the journey down the 

 Atlantic. 



