MORUCA. 
By Rev. FatTuHer LIcKERT, S.J. 
There has been talk of late of a steamship service to the Pomeroon. 
If this should be realised, the passenger, as the steamer heads straight 
for the Pomeroon mouth, will see a large bay on the right, the shore 
thickly wooded, mangrove as usual in front; behind bush. He would 
never suspect that a river was hidden away somewhere among that mass 
of vegetation. It is not a large one, it is true, compared with the larger 
rivers of British Guiana, but neither is it very small. Its mouth is 
obstructed by a delta formed of mangrove, thus giving the appearance of 
unbroken sea-shore. This is the Moruca River, one of the Colony’s 
Indian Reservations. We are going to make a short visit to it which, it 
is hoped, will not be without interest. 
Perhaps we have a rather rough passage over the some five miles of 
sea. The tide is rolling in and the wind is blowing hard out, so we feel 
somewhat relieved when we come well within reach of something firmer 
than water, even if it be only long mangrove roots stretching like claws 
into the waters, as though ready to aid us in case of need. Once we 
leave the Moruca delta behind us, we feel a pleasant sense of security and 
snugness. The waters are smooth, to right and left of us is bush pro- 
tecting us from wind and wave. Indeed, Moruea is a river after the 
Indian’s own heart, for he loves quiet and to be alone, especially away 
from “ civilised ” man. 
Let us just take a rapid trip from mouth to source and see what 
there is to be seen. For considerably more than half the river’s length 
both banks are covered with bush. At times it is a forest of trees that 
shows, rising out of the dark waters which stretch beyond the river 
banks till they reach the rising land or perhaps continues far behind in a 
dreary savannah. At other times the unsightly Mocca-Moccas thickly 
line the river side, forming a barrier to the view of the more picturesque 
bush behind it. Usually the river is comfortably broad throughout its 
entire lenoth; at present, however, it is almust becoming closed up. 
Following on the heavy rains after the long drought long banks of 
floating grass line each side for a considerable distance, leaving just a 
broad boat-track between them. I presume it is the traffic that has kept 
this passage open, for the tide is too gentle inits movements to account 
for it. As if this were not enough, the Mocca-Moceas, as though weary 
of standing along the river side like a crowd awaiting some passing show, 
have broken loose and formed in some three or four places what the 
Indians call ‘“stop-offs.” At present they are very uncomfortable 
obstructions. The boat can just push through the narrow passage still 
left open. However, unless they be speedily cleared away they will 
simply become solid dams, for the mud and floating vegetation collect in 
