CHAPTER II 
Hoisting the British Flag — An Escaped Slave — A Dilemma — 
Benedicto — The Lutra Brasiliensis — The Seringueiros — A 
Marvellous River — Rapids 
O N Jilly sixth we packed the canoe with our baggage 
and dogs. The British flag was hoisted at the 
stern of the canoe, and with tender embraces from 
the seringueiros, whose eyes were wet with tears — they 
imagined that we were going to certain death — we 
pulled out of Porto Velho at seven minutes to eleven 
o’clock a.m. 
“We will pray with all our hearts that you may reach 
the end of your journey safely! .... Beware of the 
rapids; they are terrible. . . . Be careful because the 
canoe does not steer true. . . . Do not let the canoe 
knock too hard against rocks, or she may split in two! 
. . . Good-bye! . . . good-bye!” 
With those encouraging remarks from the serin¬ 
gueiros, who were sobbing bitterly, we drifted with the 
current, Antonio and Filippe, the negro, paddling in the 
style generally adopted for scooping soup with a spoon out 
of a dish. 
I had provided the canoe with a number of improvised 
paddles we had cut ourselves. There were no two of equal 
size, shape, or weight. We had chopped them with an 
axe from sections of a tree. They were originally all 
intended to be the same, but what we intended to have 
and what we got were two different matters, as the five 
of us each worked on a separate paddle. 
The seringueiros stood on the high bank, waving their 
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