THE NATURALIST ON THE RIVER AMAZONS. 



much, and 8enhor Machado, for the first 

 time, trembled for the sat'et}' of his cargo; 

 the leaks burst out afresh, when we were yet 

 two miles from the shore. He ordered an- 

 other sail to be hoisted, in order to run more 

 quickly into port, but soon afterward an ex- 

 tra puff of wind came, and the old boat 

 lurched alarmingly, the rigging gave way, 

 and down fell boom and sail with a crash, en- 

 cumbering us with the wreck. We were 

 then obliged to have recourse to oars ; and 

 as soon as we were near the land, fearing 

 that the crazy vessel would sink before reach- 

 ing port, I begged Seuhor Machado to send 

 me ashore in the boat, with the more pre- 

 cious portion of my collections. 



CHAPTER V. 



CARIPI AND THE BAY OP MARA./6. 

 River Para and Bay of Maraj6 Journey to Caripf 

 Negro Observance of Christmas A German Family 

 Bats -Ant-eaters Humming-birds Excursion to 

 the Murucupi Domestic Life of the Inhabitants 

 Hunting Excursion with Indians White Ants. 



THAT part of the Para River which lies in 

 front of the city, as I have already explained, 

 forms a narrow channel, being separated 

 from the main waters of the estuary by a 

 cluster of islands. This channel is about two 

 miles broad, and constitutes part of the minor 

 estuary of Goajara, into which the three riv- 

 ers Guauia, Moju, and Acara discharge their 

 waters. The main channel of the Para lies 

 ten miles away from the city, directly across 

 the river ; at that point, after getting clear of 

 the islands, a great expanse of water is be- 

 held, ten to twelve miles in width ; the op- 

 posite shore the island of Marajo being 

 visible only in clear weather as a line of tree- 

 tops dotting the horizon. A little further 

 upward, that is, to the south-west, the main- 

 land on the right or eastern shore appears ; 

 this is called Carnapijo ; it is rocky, covered 

 with the never-ending forest, and the coast, 

 which is fringed with broad sandy beaches, 

 describes a gentle curve inward. The broad 

 reach of the Para in front of this coast is 

 called tlie Bahia, or Bay of Marajo. The 

 coast and the interior of the land are peopled 

 by civilized Indians and mamelucos, with a 

 mixture of f ree negroes and mulattoes. They 

 are poor, for the waters aie not abundant in 

 fish, and they are dependent for a livelihood 

 solely on their small plantations, and the 

 scanty supply of game found in the woods. 

 The district was originally peopled by vari- 

 ous tribes of Indians, of whom the principal 

 were the Tupinambas and Nhengahibas. 

 Like all the coast tribes, whether inhabiting 

 the banks of the Amazons or the sea-shore 

 between Para and Bahia, they were far 

 more advanced in civilization than the hordes 

 scattered through the interior of the country, 

 some of which still remain in the wild state, 

 between the Amazons and the Plata. There 

 are three villages on the coast of Carnapijo, 

 and several planters' houses, formerly the 

 centres of flourishing estates, which have 

 now relapsed into forest in consequence ef 

 the scarcity of labor and diminished enter- 



prise. One of the largest of these establish- 

 ment is called Caripi. At the time of which I 

 am speaking it belonged to a Scotch gentle- 

 man, Mr. Campbell, who had marrfed the 

 daughter of a large Brazilian proprietor. 

 Most of the occasional English and American 

 visitors to Para had made some stay at 

 Caripi, and it had obtained quite a reputa- 

 tion for the number and beauty of the birds 

 and insects found there. I therefore applied 

 for and obtained permission to spend two or 

 three mouths at the place. The distance 

 from Para was about 23 miles, round by the 

 northern end of the Ilha das Ou9as (Isle of 

 Tigers), which faces the city. I bargained 

 for a passage thither with the cabo of a 

 small trading-vessel, which was going past the 

 place, and started on the 7th of December, 

 1848. 



We were 13 persons aboard : the cabo, his 

 pretty mulatto mistress, the pilot, and five 

 Indian cauoemen, three 3 r oung mamelucos 

 (tailor's apprentices who were taking a holiday 

 trip to Cameta), a runaway slave heavily- 

 chained, and myself. The young mamelucos 

 were pleasant, gentle fellows ; they could 

 read and write, and amused themselves on 

 the voyage with a book containing descrip- 

 tions and statistics of foreign countries, in 

 which they seemed to take great interest 

 one reading while the others listened. At 

 Uirapiranga, a small island behind the Ilha 

 das Ougas, we had to stop a short time to- 

 embark several pipes of casha(ja at a sugar 

 estate. The cabo took the montaria and two 

 men ; the pipes were rolled into the water 

 and floated to the canoe, the men passing 

 cables round and towing them through a 

 rough sea. Here we slept, and the following 

 morning, continuing our voyage, entered a 

 narrow channel which intersects the land of 

 Carnapijo. At two P.M. we emerged from 

 this channel, which is called the Aitituba, 

 or Arrozal, into the broad Bahia, and then 

 saw, two or three miles away to the left, the 

 red-tiled mansion of Caripi, embosomed in 

 woods on the shores of a charming little bay. 



I remained here nine weeks, or until the 

 12th of February, 1849. The house was very 

 large and most substantially built, but con- 

 sisted of only one story. I was told it waS 

 built by the Jesuits more than a century ago. 

 The front had no veranda, the doors open- 

 ing on a slightly-elevated terrace, about a 

 hundred yards distant from the broad sandy 

 beach. Around the residence the ground 

 had been cleared to the extent of two or 

 three acres, and was planted with fruit-trees. 

 Well-trodden pathways through the forest 

 led to little colonies of the natives, on the 

 banks of retired creeks and rivulets in the- 

 interior. lied heie a solitary but not un- 

 pleasant life ; for there was a great charrn iu 

 the loneliness of the place. "The swell of 

 the river beating on the sloping beach cause<l 

 an unceasing murmur, which lullel me to 

 sleep at night, and seemed appropriate music 

 in those mid-day hours when all nature was 

 pausing breathless under the rays of the ver- 



