Caria-Caria Mission. 
7 ? 
store-keeper informed us tliat he had not a bite of bread in the house! 
The little bit of heart that so far had been left now indeed failed us, as 
was to be recognised only too clearly in the diminished progress of the 
boat. In addition to this, the weather had changed considerably for the 
worse, the Essequibo soon rising into such a state of commotion that 
neither the boat nor the relaxed strengh of the crew was a match for 
it. In these critical circumstances there still remained a solitary star 
of hope, the Mission Station of Caria-Caria situate on the left bank: 
this was run by Mr. Peters a coloured man who nevertheless was neither 
a clergyman nor real missionary. The renewed prospect of a square 
meal made the boys take heart again and the boat’s bow was quickly 
turned on her new course. We had not paddled far when we noticed 
a canoe ahead with which we soon caught up. It was paddled by two 
Indians who had come from the forest where they had been collecting 
fruit. I never however had seen so frail a vessel, and the two naked 
individuals whose black hair hung down over their shoulders like cloaks 
must indeed have been very tired of life to have risked it in a nut-shell 
so riddled with holes. 
268. There is no need to describe how greedily the boys fixed their 
eyes on the Astrocaryum and Badris fruits, and yet my brother hesitat- 
ed before gratifying their covetous desires because the Indians would 
not part with any of their provisions except for spirits. After a long 
delay and before we had even spoken a word, the sad pleading looks that 
the youngsters exchanged from between the food and liis eyes to read 
in them what he intended doing finally prevailed, and a glass of rum 
received by each of the Indians brought a portion of the fruit into our 
boat. Though one found but little to still one’s hunger with, the thin 
fleshy envelope of the fruit was however gnawed by the boys and us with 
as much inward satisfaction as if we had had the best of roast beef in 
front of our expectant mouths. The opening of the Albany-cary ( Abena- 
cari) on which the station lies, was finally reached and we were about 
to spring ashore when an Indian woman, partly in a few English words, 
and partly in a much more intelligible dumb-show, because none of the 
boys understood Arawak, gave us to understand 'that there was just as 
little of Mr. Peters here as there was bread. The last sparks of hope 
were now extinguished, and the boys’ countenances already naturally 
marked by melancholy changed into that of absolute despair and found 
a striking reflex in our own, because we also were suffering the tor- 
ments of nagging hunger, particularly aggravated in my own case, as 
the eating of the palm -fruits had made me vomit badly. 
269. In spite of our pantomimic request there was nothing edible 
to lie got out of the woman and we were forced therefore to continue 
our journey, but the sight of a boat that was rowing towards us soon 
recalled to life the hopes that were already moribund, and the shout of 
“Mr. Peters” by one of the boys redoubled their strength. Mr. Peter 1 ;’ 
gave us the most friendly welcome, bid us turn our boat and accompany 
him to his place where a big basket of fresh cassava -bread and a 
large vessel of cooling lemonade soon made us forget our hours of 
hunger. 
270. Whether the woman had misunderstood, or purposely wanted 
to deceive us, I don’t know, — the satisfaction of gratifying our appetites 
