A DISASTER 
The tall range of hills to the northwest of us showed 
beautiful cobalt-blue tones against the whitish and grey 
sky; while the dark green foliage of the trees and the 
yellow blooms of the oleo pardo trees visible here and 
there, the immaculate white sandy beach along the water 
line, together with the brilliantly red and yellow rocks 
which stood out of the crystalline emerald water, formed 
indeed a beautiful scene for the painter’s brush. 
But it did not do to be poetically inclined when 
travelling on the Arinos. I had hardly time to realize 
how beautiful that scene was when we found ourselves 
confronted by another big barrier of rocks, through which 
we went over a swift corrideira. 
A basin was formed, 900 metres wide, with an 
extensive island of rock on the right side of it. Then we 
suddenly came to a terrible-looking rapid at an incline so 
steep that I foresaw trouble in store for us. There was 
no way of stopping anywhere, as the current was swiftly 
taking us down. 
“We are lost!” shouted one man. “Jesus Maria 
Santissima! ” 
“Paddle away! paddle away, for Heaven’s sake!” 
I shouted, as I knew that speed alone could save us from 
disaster. 
Down went the canoe at an angle of 45° in the foaming 
and twisting waters of the rapid. Where the water curled 
right over itself the heavy canoe was lifted up in the air 
like a feather, and as I turned round to shout to Alcides 
to steer straight ahead, I saw his expanded eyes looking 
in terror at the terrific whirlpool which was facing us at 
the bottom of the rapid. 
“No! no!” cried Alcides. 
“Straight — straight! For God’s sake, straight!” 
shouted I; and as I saw the canoe swerve to the right I 
again shouted to Alcides to steer straight in order to avoid 
the dangerous part of the whirlpool. 
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