114 



CARIPI 



hind the Ilha das ongas, we had to stop a short time to 

 embark several pipes of casha9a, 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, con- 

 tinuing our voyage, entered a narrow channel which 

 intersects the land of Carnapijo. At 2 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, em- 

 bosomed in woods on the shores of a charming Uttle bay. 



The water is very shallow near the shore, and when . 

 the wind blows there is a heavy ground swell. A few 

 years previously an English gentleman, Mr. Graham, an 

 amateur naturalist, was capsized here and drowned with 

 his wife and child, whilst passing in a heavily-laden 

 montaria to his large canoe. Remembering their fate, 

 I was rather alarmed to see that I should be obliged to 

 take all my luggage ashore in one trip in a leaky little 

 boat. The pile of chests with two Indians and myself 

 sank the montaria almost to the level of the water. I 

 was kept busy baling all the way. The Indians manage 

 canoes in this condition with admirable skill. They pre- 

 serve the nicest equilibrium, and paddle so gently that 

 not the slightest oscillation is perceptible. On landing, 

 an old negress named Florinda, the feitora or manageress 

 of the establishment which was kept only as a poultry 

 farm and hospital for sick slaves, gave me the keys, and 

 I forthwith took possession of the rooms I required. 



I remained here nine weeks, or until the 12th of February, 

 1849. The house was very large and most substantially 

 built, but consisted of only one story. I was told it was 

 built by the Jesuits more than a century ago. The front 

 had no verandah, the doors opening 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. I led here 

 a solitary but not unpleasant life ; there was a great 

 charm in the loneliness of the place. The swell of the 

 river beating on the sloping beach caused an unceasing 



