Tài liệu WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA By CHARLES WATERTON pdf

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above six yards in circumference. If larger have ever existed they have fallen a
sacrifice either to the axe or to fire.
If, however, they disappoint you in size, they make ample amends in height. Heedless,
and bankrupt in all curiosity, must he be who can journey on without stopping to take
a view of the towering mora. Its topmost branch, when naked with age or dried by
accident, is the favourite resort of the toucan. Many a time has this singular bird felt
the shot faintly strike him from the gun of the fowler beneath, and owed his life to the
distance betwixt them.
The trees which form these far-extending wilds are as useful as they are ornamental. It
would take a volume of itself to describe them.
The green-heart, famous for its hardness and durability; the hackea for its toughness;
the ducalabali surpassing mahogany; the ebony and letter-wood vying with the
choicest woods of the old world; the locust-tree yielding copal; and the hayawa- and
olou-trees furnishing a sweet-smelling resin, are all to be met with in the forest
betwixt the plantations and the rock Saba.
Beyond this rock the country has been little explored, but it is very probable that
these, and a vast collection of other kinds, and possibly many new species, are
scattered up and down, in all directions, through the swamps and hills and savannas
of ci-devant Dutch Guiana.
On viewing the stately trees around him, the naturalist will observe many of them
bearing leaves and blossoms and fruit not their own.
The wild fig-tree, as large as a common English apple-tree, often rears itself from one
of the thick branches at the top of the mora, and when its fruit is ripe, to it the birds
resort for nourishment. It was to an undigested seed passing through the body of the
bird which had perched on the mora that the fig-tree first owed its elevated station
there. The sap of the mora raised it into full bearing, but now, in its turn, it is doomed
to contribute a portion of its own sap and juices towards the growth of different
species of vines, the seeds of which also the birds deposited on its branches. These
soon vegetate, and bear fruit in great quantities; so what with their usurpation of the
resources of the fig-tree, and the fig- tree of the mora, the mora, unable to support a
charge which nature never intended it should, languishes and dies under its burden;
and then the fig- tree, and its usurping progeny of vines, receiving no more succour
from their late foster-parent, droop and perish in their turn.
A vine called the bush-rope by the wood-cutters, on account of its use in hauling out
the heaviest timber, has a singular appearance in the forests of Demerara. Sometimes
you see it nearly as thick as a man's body, twisted like a corkscrew round the tallest
trees and rearing its head high above their tops. At other times three or four of them,
like strands in a cable, join tree and tree and branch and branch together. Others,
descending from on high, take root as soon as their extremity touches the ground, and
appear like shrouds and stays supporting the mainmast of a line-of-battle ship; while
others, sending out parallel, oblique, horizontal and perpendicular shoots in all
directions, put you in mind of what travellers call a matted forest. Oftentimes a tree,
above a hundred feet high, uprooted by the whirlwind, is stopped in its fall by these
amazing cables of nature, and hence it is that you account for the phenomenon of
seeing trees not only vegetating, but sending forth vigorous shoots, though far from
their perpendicular, and their trunks inclined to every degree from the meridian to the
horizon.
Their heads remain firmly supported by the bush-rope; many of their roots soon refix
themselves in the earth, and frequently a strong shoot will sprout out perpendicularly
from near the root of the reclined trunk, and in time become a fine tree. No grass
grows under the trees and few weeds, except in the swamps.
The high grounds are pretty clear of underwood, and with a cutlass to sever the small
bush-ropes it is not difficult walking among the trees.
The soil, chiefly formed by the fallen leaves and decayed trees, is very rich and fertile
in the valleys. On the hills it is little better than sand. The rains seem to have carried
away and swept into the valleys every particle which Nature intended to have formed
a mould.
Four-footed animals are scarce considering how very thinly these forests are inhabited
by men.
Several species of the animal commonly called tiger, though in reality it approaches
nearer to the leopard, are found here, and two of their diminutives, named tiger-cats.
The tapir, the lobba and deer afford excellent food, and chiefly frequent the swamps
and low ground near the sides of the river and creeks.
In stating that four-footed animals are scarce, the peccari must be excepted. Three or
four hundred of them herd together and traverse the wilds in all directions in quest of
roots and fallen seeds. The Indians mostly shoot them with poisoned arrows. When
wounded they run about one hundred and fifty paces; they then drop, and make
wholesome food.
The red monkey, erroneously called the baboon, is heard oftener than it is seen, while
the common brown monkey, the bisa, and sacawinki rove from tree to tree, and amuse
the stranger as he journeys on.
A species of the polecat, and another of the fox, are destructive to the Indian's poultry,
while the opossum, the guana and salempenta afford him a delicious morsel.
The small ant-bear, and the large one, remarkable for his long, broad, bushy tail, are
sometimes seen on the tops of the wood-ants' nests; the armadillos bore in the sand-
hills, like rabbits in a warren; and the porcupine is now and then discovered in the
trees over your head.
This, too, is the native country of the sloth. His looks, his gestures and his cries all
conspire to entreat you to take pity on him. These are the only weapons of defence
which Nature hath given him. While other animals assemble in herds, or in pairs range
through these boundless wilds, the sloth is solitary and almost stationary; he cannot
escape from you. It is said his piteous moans make the tiger relent and turn out of the
way. Do not then level your gun at him or pierce him with a poisoned arrow—he has
never hurt one living creature. A few leaves, and those of the commonest and coarsest
kind, are all he asks for his support. On comparing him with other animals you would
say that you could perceive deficiency, deformity and superabundance in his
composition. He has no cutting-teeth, and though four stomachs, he still wants the
long intestines of ruminating animals. He has only one inferior aperture, as in birds.
He has no soles to his feet nor has he the power of moving his toes separately. His hair
is flat, and puts you in mind of grass withered by the wintry blast. His legs are too
short; they appear deformed by the manner in which they are joined to the body, and
when he is on the ground, they seem as if only calculated to be of use in climbing
trees. He has forty-six ribs, while the elephant has only forty, and his claws are
disproportionably long. Were you to mark down, upon a graduated scale, the different
claims to superiority amongst the four-footed animals, this poor ill-formed creature's
claim would be the last upon the lowest degree.
Demerara yields to no country in the world in her wonderful and beautiful productions
of the feathered race. Here the finest precious stones are far surpassed by the vivid
tints which adorn the birds. The naturalist may exclaim that Nature has not known
where to stop in forming new species and painting her requisite shades. Almost every
one of those singular and elegant birds described by Buffon as belonging to Cayenne
are to be met with in Demerara, but it is only by an indefatigable naturalist that they
are to be found.
The scarlet curlew breeds in innumerable quantities in the muddy islands on the coasts
of Pomauron; the egrets and crabiers in the same place. They resort to the mud-flats at
ebbing water, while thousands of sandpipers and plovers, with here and there a
spoonbill and flamingo, are seen amongst them. The pelicans go farther out to sea, but
return at sundown to the courada-trees. The humming-birds are chiefly to be found
near the flowers at which each of the species of the genus is wont to feed. The pie, the
gallinaceous, the columbine and passerine tribes resort to the fruit- bearing trees.
You never fail to see the common vulture where there is carrion. In passing up the
river there was an opportunity of seeing a pair of the king of the vultures; they were
sitting on the naked branch of a tree, with about a dozen of the common ones with
them. A tiger had killed a goat the day before; he had been driven away in the act of
sucking the blood, and not finding it safe or prudent to return, the goat remained in the
same place where he had killed it; it had begun to putrefy, and the vultures had arrived
that morning to claim the savoury morsel.
At the close of day the vampires leave the hollow trees, whither they had fled at the
morning's dawn, and scour along the river's banks in quest of prey. On waking from
sleep the astonished traveller finds his hammock all stained with blood. It is the
vampire that hath sucked him. Not man alone, but every unprotected animal, is
exposed to his depredations; and so gently does this nocturnal surgeon draw the blood
that, instead of being roused, the patient is lulled into a still profounder sleep. There
are two species of vampire in Demerara, and both suck living animals: one is rather
larger than the common bat, the other measures above two feet from wing to wing
extended.
Snakes are frequently met with in the woods betwixt the sea-coast and the rock Saba,
chiefly near the creeks and on the banks of the river. They are large, beautiful and
formidable. The rattlesnake seems partial to a tract of ground known by the name of
Canal Number-three: there the effects of his poison will be long remembered.
The camoudi snake has been killed from thirty to forty feet long; though not
venomous, his size renders him destructive to the passing animals. The Spaniards in
the Oroonoque positively affirm that he grows to the length of seventy or eighty feet
and that he will destroy the strongest and largest bull. His name seems to confirm this:
there he is called "matatoro," which literally means "bull-killer." Thus he may be
ranked amongst the deadly snakes, for it comes nearly to the same thing in the end
whether the victim dies by poison from the fangs, which corrupts his blood and makes
it stink horribly, or whether his body be crushed to mummy, and swallowed by this
hideous beast.
The whipsnake of a beautiful changing green, and the coral, with alternate broad
traverse bars of black and red, glide from bush to bush, and may be handled with
safety; they are harmless little creatures.
The labarri snake is speckled, of a dirty brown colour, and can scarcely be
distinguished from the ground or stump on which he is coiled up; he grows to the
length of about eight feet and his bite often proves fatal in a few minutes.
Unrivalled in his display of every lovely colour of the rainbow, and unmatched in the
effects of his deadly poison, the counacouchi glides undaunted on, sole monarch of
these forests; he is commonly known by the name of the bush-master. Both man and
beast fly before him, and allow him to pursue an undisputed path. He sometimes
grows to the length of fourteen feet.
A few small caymen, from two to twelve feet long, may be observed now and then in
passing up and down the river; they just keep their heads above the water, and a
stranger would not know them from a rotten stump.
Lizards of the finest green, brown and copper colour, from two inches to two feet and
a half long, are ever and anon rustling among the fallen leaves and crossing the path
before you, whilst the chameleon is busily employed in chasing insects round the
trunks of the neighbouring trees.
The fish are of many different sorts and well-tasted, but not, generally speaking, very
plentiful. It is probable that their numbers are considerably thinned by the otters,
which are much larger than those of Europe. In going through the overflowed
savannas, which have all a communication with the river, you may often see a dozen
or two of them sporting amongst the sedges before you.
This warm and humid climate seems particularly adapted to the producing of insects;
it gives birth to myriads, beautiful past description in their variety of tints, astonishing
in their form and size, and many of them noxious in their qualities.
He whose eye can distinguish the various beauties of uncultivated nature, and whose
ear is not shut to the wild sounds in the woods, will be delighted in passing up the
River Demerara. Every now and then the maam or tinamou sends forth one long and
plaintive whistle from the depth of the forest, and then stops; whilst the yelping of the
toucan and the shrill voice of the bird called pi-pi-yo is heard during the interval. The
campanero never fails to attract the attention of the passenger; at a distance of nearly
three miles you may hear this snow-white bird tolling every four or five minutes, like
the distant convent-bell. From six to nine in the morning the forests resound with the
mingled cries and strains of the feathered race; after this they gradually die away.
From eleven to three all nature is hushed as in a midnight silence, and scarce a note is
heard, saving that of the campanero and the pi-pi-yo; it is then that, oppressed by the
solar heat, the birds retire to the thickest shade and wait for the refreshing cool of
evening.
At sundown the vampires, bats and goat-suckers dart from their lonely retreat and
skim along the trees on the river's bank. The different kinds of frogs almost stun the
ear with their hoarse and hollow-sounding croaking, while the owls and goat-suckers
lament and mourn all night long.
About two hours before daybreak you will hear the red monkey moaning as though in
deep distress; the houtou, a solitary bird, and only found in the thickest recesses of the
forest, distinctly articulates "houtou, houtou," in a low and plaintive tone an hour
before sunrise; the maam whistles about the same hour; the hannaquoi, pataca and
maroudi announce his near approach to the eastern horizon, and the parrots and
paroquets confirm his arrival there.
The crickets chirp from sunset to sunrise, and often during the day when the weather
is cloudy. The bête-rouge is exceedingly numerous in these extensive wilds, and not
only man, but beasts and birds, are tormented by it. Mosquitos are very rare after you
pass the third island in the Demerara, and sand-flies but seldom appear.
Courteous reader, here thou hast the outlines of an amazing landscape given thee; thou
wilt see that the principal parts of it are but faintly traced, some of them scarcely
visible at all, and that the shades are wholly wanting. If thy soul partakes of the ardent
flame which the persevering Mungo Park's did, these outlines will be enough for thee;
they will give thee some idea of what a noble country this is; and if thou hast but
courage to set about giving the world a finished picture of it, neither materials to work
on nor colours to paint it in its true shades will be wanting to thee. It may appear a
difficult task at a distance, but look close at it, and it is nothing at all; provided thou
hast but a quiet mind, little more is necessary, and the genius which presides over
these wilds will kindly help thee through the rest. She will allow thee to slay the fawn
and to cut down the mountain-cabbage for thy support, and to select from every part
of her domain whatever may be necessary for the work thou art about; but having
killed a pair of doves in order to enable thee to give mankind a true and proper
description of them, thou must not destroy a third through wantonness or to show
what a good marksman thou art: that would only blot the picture thou art finishing, not
colour it.
Though retired from the haunts of men, and even without a friend with thee, thou
wouldst not find it solitary. The crowing of the hannaquoi will sound in thine ears like
the daybreak town-clock; and the wren and the thrush will join with thee in thy matin
hymn to thy Creator, to thank Him for thy night's rest.
At noon the genius will lead thee to the troely, one leaf of which will defend thee from
both sun and rain. And if, in the cool of the evening, thou hast been tempted to stray
too far from thy place of abode, and art deprived of light to write down the
information thou hast collected, the fire-fly, which thou wilt see in almost every bush
around thee, will be thy candle. Hold it over thy pocket-book, in any position which
thou knowest will not hurt it, and it will afford thee ample light. And when thou hast
done with it, put it kindly back again on the next branch to thee. It will want no other
reward for its services.
When in thy hammock, should the thought of thy little crosses and disappointments, in
thy ups and downs through life, break in upon thee and throw thee into a pensive
mood, the owl will bear thee company. She will tell thee that hard has been her fate,
too; and at intervals "Whip-poor- will" and "Willy come go" will take up the tale of
sorrow. Ovid has told thee how the owl once boasted the human form and lost it for a
very small offence; and were the poet alive now he would inform thee that "Whip-
poor- will" and "Willy come go" are the shades of those poor African and Indian
slaves who died worn out and broken-hearted. They wail and cry "Whip-poor- will,"
"Willy come go," all night long; and often, when the moon shines, you see them
sitting on the green turf near the houses of those whose ancestors tore them from the
bosom of their helpless families, which all probably perished through grief and want
after their support was gone.
About an hour above the rock of Saba stands the habitation of an Indian called Simon,
on the top of a hill. The side next the river is almost perpendicular, and you may easily
throw a stone over to the opposite bank. Here there was an opportunity of seeing man
in his rudest state. The Indians who frequented this habitation, though living in the
midst of woods, bore evident marks of attention to their persons. Their hair was neatly
collected and tied up in a knot; their bodies fancifully painted red, and the paint was
scented with hayawa. This gave them a gay and animated appearance. Some of them
had on necklaces composed of the teeth of wild boars slain in the chase; many wore
rings, and others had an ornament on the left arm midway betwixt the shoulder and the
elbow. At the close of day they regularly bathed in the river below, and the next
morning seemed busy in renewing the faded colours of their faces.
One day there came into the hut a form which literally might be called the wild man of
the woods. On entering he laid down a ball of wax which he had collected in the
forest. His hammock was all ragged and torn, and his bow, though of good wood, was
without any ornament or polish: "erubuit domino, cultior esse suo." His face was
meagre, his looks forbidding and his whole appearance neglected. His long black hair
hung from his head in matted confusion; nor had his body, to all appearance, ever
been painted. They gave him some cassava bread and boiled fish, which he ate
voraciously, and soon after left the hut. As he went out you could observe no traces in
his countenance or demeanour which indicated that he was in the least mindful of
having been benefited by the society he was just leaving.
The Indians said that he had neither wife nor child nor friend. They had often tried to
persuade him to come and live amongst them, but all was of no avail. He went roving
on, plundering the wild bees of their honey and picking up the fallen nuts and fruits of
the forest. When he fell in with game he procured fire from two sticks and cooked it
on the spot. When a hut happened to be in his way he stepped in and asked for
something to eat, and then months elapsed ere they saw him again. They did not know
what had caused him to be thus unsettled: he had been so for years; nor did they
believe that even old age itself would change the habits of this poor harmless, solitary
wanderer.
From Simon's the traveller may reach the large fall, with ease, in four days.
The first falls that he meets are merely rapids, scarce a stone appearing above the
water in the rainy season; and those in the bed of the river barely high enough to arrest
the water's course, and by causing a bubbling show that they are there.
With this small change of appearance in the stream, the stranger observes nothing new
till he comes within eight or ten miles of the great fall. Each side of the river presents
an uninterrupted range of wood, just as it did below. All the productions found
betwixt the plantations and the rock Saba are to be met with here.
From Simon's to the great fall there are five habitations of the Indians: two of them
close to the river's side; the other three a little way in the forest. These habitations
consist of from four to eight huts, situated on about an acre of ground which they have
cleared from the surrounding woods. A few pappaw, cotton and mountain-cabbage
trees are scattered round them.
At one of these habitations a small quantity of the wourali poison was procured. It was
in a little gourd. The Indian who had it said that he had killed a number of wild hogs
with it, and two tapirs. Appearances seemed to confirm what he said, for on one side it
had been nearly taken out to the bottom, at different times, which probably would not
have been the case had the first or second trial failed.
Its strength was proved on a middle-sized dog. He was wounded in the thigh, in order
that there might be no possibility of touching a vital part. In three or four minutes he
began to be affected, smelt at every little thing on the ground around him, and looked
wistfully at the wounded part. Soon after this he staggered, laid himself down, and
never rose more. He barked once, though not as if in pain. His voice was low and
weak; and in a second attempt it quite failed him. He now put his head betwixt his
fore-legs, and raising it slowly again he fell over on his side. His eye immediately
became fixed, and though his extremities every now and then shot convulsively, he
never showed the least desire to raise up his head. His heart fluttered much from the
time he laid down, and at intervals beat very strong; then stopped for a moment or
two, and then beat again; and continued faintly beating several minutes after every
other part of his body seemed dead.
In a quarter of an hour after he had received the poison he was quite motionless.
A few miles before you reach the great fall, and which indeed is the only one which
can be called a fall, large balls of froth come floating past you. The river appears
beautifully marked with streaks of foam, and on your nearer approach the stream is
whitened all over.