CHAPTER III

THE AMAZON

Early the next morning David became aware of the fact that he had embarked on a stormy voyage. The ship rolled and pitched in an alarming manner. He could hear the shrieking and moaning of the wind and feel the vessel tremble as the waves struck the steel sides with a muffled roar.

At first he did not know just what to make of it, so he groped for the switch and turned on the light. Rogers was sleeping soundly in the berth below. There was no one stirring on deck or in the passageway, so he came to the conclusion that a storm was not an unusual occurrence and that everyone took it as a matter of fact, so he snapped off the light.

But it was far from comfortable, this rolling and tossing, and sleep was impossible. Daylight soon came, however, and with it the bustle and sound of voices on deck incident to life aboard ship.

“Going down to breakfast?” Rogers enquired, holding to a hand-rail with one hand while he calmly shaved with the other. He seemed to mind not at all the lurching of the boat.

“I guess not; I don’t feel hungry,” David replied in a weak voice.

“Sick?”

“A little. It’s not so bad while I lie still; but when I try to get up my head spins.”

“Never mind. It will soon pass. Better have a cup of coffee; then you will feel better. I’ll ring for the steward.”

“No, don’t. Please, let’s talk about something else; anything but food. Will the storm last long?”

“It may clear up later. If it gets calmer come out for a walk on deck. The fresh air is a good tonic,” and he strode out of the room.

But the storm did not subside. It lasted two whole days and three nights. By that time David was so ill he was compelled to remain in his berth another full day to recuperate sufficiently to venture out.

The fresh air and the bright sunshine on the upper deck worked wonders. Added to these, long walks back and forth, a few games of shuffleboard and an occasional dip in the ship’s swimming tank soon restored his good health and usual cheerful manner.

“You expect to work on a ranch in Brazil, eh?” Rogers commented one morning as they leaned over the rail to watch the flyingfish startled by the prow of the boat as she cut her way through the glassy water.

“I not only expect to but I am going to,” David returned promptly.

“How long are you going to stay?”

“A long, long time. In fact, I haven’t thought of going back. I had better get there first.”

“Know anything about ranching?”

“Not much; but I can learn.”

“Know anything about Brazil or what you are going to be up against?” Rogers persisted.

“Not a thing.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“I’m not a mind-reader.”

“Well, I think you are foolish to try it.”

“Thank you,” David replied promptly.

“I mean it.”

“I can’t help what you think,” pleasantly. “My head is working overtime figuring out my own things.”

“I would not go where you are going for a thousand dollars a month.”

“Neither would I. I am doing this because I am interested in it and want to learn. Office work, no matter how easy, is unbearable to me because I don’t like it. Outdoor work, no matter how hard, will be fun because I do like it.”

“I went to Manaos once, and that was far enough,” Rogers proceeded. “The heat, the rains, the mosquitoes, in fact everything that makes life miserable was there in too great abundance to suit me. If I were in your place I should go up the river for the sake of the trip. The Amazon country is great--to see from the deck of the steamer. Look at it until you have your fill and then go back to the good position you left. I am telling you right now that you are making a big mistake, and you will regret it.”

“It’s very kind of you to take such an interest in me, but you must think I am a jellyfish. There is no use saying anything more. My mind is made up. I wouldn’t even think of backing out--not for the world,” Jones asserted in no uncertain accents.

“All right. Think it over.” Rogers yawned and went to his deck chair, while David took a small, red volume from his pocket and devoted his time to the study of Portuguese.

The days slipped by pleasantly and quickly. The water assumed a deeper blue color and great rafts of seaweed dotted the surface. The air was balmy and delightful.

There was always something new and interesting to see. The birds in

## particular attracted David’s attention, especially the man-o’-war birds

that soared on motionless, narrow wings hour after hour and, it was said, day after day, in the cloudless sky. They rarely slept or rested but sailed on tireless pinions as if they enjoyed it, bent on some mission none could fathom. Then there were the little petrels or Mother Carey’s chickens, as the sailors called them, fluttering and skipping over the water like huge, black grasshoppers; they appeared in greatest numbers on those rare occasions when the ship passed through a choppy stretch of water.

Some of the barren, rocky islands were fairly teeming with boobies, jaegers, gannets and other feathered lovers of the briny deep. They sat on the shelflike ledges running along the faces of the cliffs like the tiers of beads on an abacus. Other swarms filled the air, fluttering, soaring, circling and wheeling amidst squawks and screams while still other hordes sat motionless on the water.

The jaegers were the pirates of the deep. They waited until the smaller birds returned from their successful fishing excursion, then attacked them until they disgorged their catches which they greedily appropriated to their own use.

These sights fascinated David. How different from the imprisonment of the city! And this was but a taste of what he was to see, a sample of the free life in the open for which he longed.

After nearly two weeks sailing he came on deck one morning to find that the color of the water had changed overnight. Instead of the clear, crisp blue the ship was ploughing her way through a sea of yellow that extended to the horizon on every side. He called the matter to the attention of Rogers.

“That muddy water is discharged by the Amazon,” the latter said.

“But we are not near the river yet,” David remarked incredulously. “There is no land in sight.”

“No, we are not near the river and will not be until some time tomorrow. Even if we were in the very center of the Amazon you could not see the banks, for the river is about one hundred and fifty miles wide at its mouth. The quantity of water it carries into the ocean is so enormous that it keeps its yellow color several hundred miles out at sea before the mud settles and the fresh water is thoroughly mixed with and absorbed by the brine of the ocean.”

The next evening they saw the first indication of land. At first there were only long lines of white far in the distance where breakers were dashing over the low sandbars that checked their onward sweep. Later, they distinguished small, dark tufts, like feather dusters, outlined against the clear sky; these were coconut palms growing on the outlying islands. And before long the first land--dim strips of dark color seemingly suspended between the water and the sky, met their gaze.

At night they entered the river proper. It was too dark to see anything, but David was so excited he could hardly sleep. Here he was, on the mighty Amazon, and it was not a dream either. What tales the silent water could tell could it but talk! What had the stream witnessed, on its journey through many thousands of miles of wilderness and jungle inhabited by savage beasts and equally savage peoples! And what secrets were locked up in that outwardly calm, yellow flood! The very air seemed saturated with mystery, romance and adventure. And here he was, alone and foot-free and eager to absorb his full share of everything this wonderful country offered.

With daylight came disappointment. Instead of the wide expanse of water David had expected to see there was only a narrow channel through which the ship proceeded with caution. Both banks were covered with heavy, deep green vegetation, extending to the edge of the river. Creepers and ropelike lianas dangled from the branches and trailed in the water; climbing ferns and palms and a host of other plants clinging to the boughs and trunks united them into a solid wall of living green.

Here and there a bright-colored flower glowed brilliantly against the darker background and from the interior of the tangled, matted screen came subdued cries and screams. A flock of green parrots, flying low, passed overhead and then dived into the jungle on the other side and disappeared. There were fully a hundred birds in the party, but they flew two by two, with a peculiar fanning motion of the wings, like a duck’s.

One of the branches on the side nearest the steamer stirred and someone shouted “monkeys.” David looked but saw only the swaying vegetation which moved as if agitated by a gust of wind.

“I am sorry I missed them. I have never seen a wild monkey,” he said.

“You will see plenty of them before long; and not only see but get real well acquainted with them,” Rogers volunteered.

“You mean they are tame and come to the camps in the forests?”

“Not exactly. You will have to live on them.”

“What? Eat monkeys?” David asked in dismay.

“Certainly. Everyone does in the bush. The Indians eat everything--monkeys, crocodiles, snakes and lizards. And if you want to live out in the wilderness you shall have to do as they do because there is no other way out of it. You will be thankful for whatever you find whether you like it or not.”

“But the rivers must be full of fish,” David reminded him.

“They are. Catching them is another proposition though. Besides, there is nothing in the world a white man becomes so tired of as fish if he eats it day after day.”

“Why worry?” David said it bravely, but a sigh escaped him. “If that is the custom here I guess I can get used to it.”

The prospect of having to eat monkeys, as he knew them in the zoo at home, was not a pleasant one and the thoughts that were in his mind were reflected in the expression on his face. Rogers gave him a sharp glance, then walked away; he was finding his task a difficult one.

The first stop was at Pará, and as the steamer carried a quantity of freight for that port and was to remain two days there was ample time for sightseeing ashore.

The feel of solid ground under his feet was very welcome to David; and to enter the low-lying city beside the river was like stepping into fairyland.

How different everything was from the life and living conditions of a temperate clime. Instead of the tall buildings and wide streets bustling with humanity there were blocks of low, white structures, narrow, crooked streets lined with drooping, swaying palms; and the people, of every shade from white to black, seemed to take things in a leisurely manner.

It was warm--disagreeably warm at midday and during the early afternoon hours--but David was too interested in his surroundings to take much note of the heat. He tramped the streets and tried to see everything that unfolded itself before his eyes.

The flaming _Jacaranda_ trees that thrust themselves upon one’s notice through the sheer boldness of their beauty fascinated him. Not extremely tall but with wide-spreading branches they looked like enormous bouquets so thickly were they covered with purplish flowers with only an occasional tuft of fern-like leaves to enhance their beauty.

There were palms without number. Some grew tall and stately with crowns of gracefully drooping leaves; others had bent, spiny stems; and still others had shocks of ragged, split leaves perched on the top of thick, ringed trunks.

A curio store just off the main thoroughfare attracted David’s attention and after gazing at the display in the windows for some time he decided to investigate the mysteries inside so forcefully suggested by the objects in front. He had always intended to make a collection of butterflies and other things and here was the opportunity to start it. But the door was locked. He tried the door of the next shop; it, too, was bolted. A passing policeman, observing his actions, volunteered the information that everything would be closed until later in the afternoon because the people were taking a nap during the hottest part of the day. And as David strolled down the street he rejoiced that the curio store had been closed, for what could he have done with the butterflies if he had purchased them? They were too fragile to carry around for months in the wilderness; and he would no doubt have the opportunity personally to collect all he wanted at the ranch.

The afternoon being spent, the wanderer went back to the waterfront and boarded the steamer, and remained aboard for the night. There followed another day of sight-seeing, confined principally to the numerous little parks, and then the voyage was resumed up the river.

David remained on deck as the steamer headed up the sluggish, muddy stream and enjoyed the changing vistas of broad expanses of water and the dark green of the vegetation that contrasted sharply with it. Then he went to his cabin to wash up for dinner. And there was Rogers examining a number of souvenirs he had purchased in Pará; a medly array of feather flowers, Indian head-dresses and the skins of birds and snakes was spread on the floor and chairs.

“You still here?” David asked in surprise. He had not seen him since saying good-bye the morning they reached the port, as Rogers had stated that he was going no further than Pará.

“Yes, I am going to stick around a while longer--until we get to Manaos, to be exact,” Rogers replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Great! But you changed your mind rather suddenly, didn’t you? I hardly expected to see you again.”

“I did intend to go only to Pará, but I found that my affairs had not been settled. So I have to keep on going. But I do not mind. The trip up the river is interesting.”

“Say, Rogers,” David asked suddenly. “What is your business anyway? I don’t like to be inquisitive; that is why I didn’t ask before now. But I am filled with curiosity.”

“It is of a personal nature; sorry I cannot go into greater detail but that would be violating a confidence,” and Rogers looked embarrassed.

“I see,” David said simply, but he could not get the matter off his mind, try as he would. And to make things worse he could see no reason why Rogers’ affairs should cause him any concern.

To spend six days on the mighty Amazon is an event in any man’s life; to David it was the greatest he had experienced. Each morning when the noise of the deck scrubbers awakened him he jumped from his berth and after dressing hastily went on deck to see the sun rise. On no two mornings was the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded itself before his eyes the same in all respects. Sometimes the flaming, angry ball of fire shot up as if from some place of concealment beyond the black wall of forest; once it rose out of the yellow flood, at the foot of a wide path of gold and pink light that danced and sparkled on the wave-crests; and again, there were but fleeting glimpses of shafts of bright light that darted through rifts in the cloud-banks whose edges were aglow with burnished silver.

When the forested banks were visible they always loomed up like dark, impenetrable barriers; but as the light grew stronger the blurred outlines of trees, palms and a thousand points of vegetation gradually became clearer and finally revealed their identity.

The forest enchanted the beholder. It exhaled an air of mystery, the promise of adventure; and at the same time it hurled a bold defiance. “Come, ferret out my secrets, search for my treasures,” it seemed to say, “and I will overwhelm you, engulf you and you will be no more. But come, come, if you dare.”

David read both the invitation and the challenge; and with more determination than ever, he accepted them.

Nothing was seen of the wild life with which the jungle must have been teeming. Perhaps it was because the walls of vegetation were so dense they hid the creatures that lurked within their green depths. Then, too, the river was frequently so wide that the banks could scarcely be distinguished, showing only as low, dark lines in the hazy distance.

Occasionally a flock of ducks passed overhead. There were gulls also, and other waterfowls. But far more numerous were the parrots and great macaws, in large, boisterous companies that winged their way heavily across the wide expanse of water. From a distance the parrots resembled the ducks but there was always the easily noticeable difference, that no matter how large their number, they always flew two by two.

“Where are all the crocodiles?” David asked the captain of the ship one day as the latter stopped beside him at the railing. “And the big water snakes and other things you hear about the Amazon?”

The captain looked at him in an amused manner.

“They are here, that is the crocodiles are, but the water is too high to see them,” he said. “During the dry season the sand bars and islands are covered with them. There are plenty of anacondas, too, but they stay around the banks. So you are going into the interior, I hear!”

“Yes, to a ranch that’s just starting up,” David replied.

“Well, you’ll see all the snakes and other vermin you want, and more too.”

“Fine! I have never been here before and I want to see everything there is to be seen.”

“You had better look fast then, because you won’t stay long. They all go back pretty quick.”

“Not I. I am going into the business for good.”

“That’s what they all say. And I carry them back home on the next boat.”

“You will not carry me back on the next boat, nor on the trip after that either.” David was losing patience.

“If you knew what’s in store for you you wouldn’t even go ashore when we get to Manaos; you would come right back home with me on this trip. And that is what I would advise you to do.”

“Thank you,” and David walked away.

They made short stops at the more important towns along the river, to deliver mail and unload freight.

The waterfront in these places always teemed with dark-skinned natives. Long lines of men, stripped to the waist, were carrying bags of produce to barges moored to the banks, waiting for steamers going downstream. Groups of other men lounged on the docks or came to the ship in row-boats, offering fruit for sale.

David was greatly surprised to see the barges of Brazil nuts that were being transferred to a steamer outward bound. The nuts--he had no idea there were so many in the world, were handled just like coal. They were scooped out of the barges in steam shovels and dumped into the hold of the boat, where they disappeared in the seemingly insatiable, black void. Many were spilled overboard and others rained on the deck, but no one cared.

There were cargoes of rubber, too, large, oblong balls, or thick bricks that must have weighed several hundreds of pounds. But David was to see enough of them later and under less attractive circumstances.

On the sixth day they reached the junction of the Rivers Negro and Solimoes.

“This is the end of the Amazon,” Rogers explained as they gazed at the sweep of the mighty streams.

“The end?” David asked in surprise. “I always thought of the Amazon as a river three or four thousand miles long.”

“The Amazon proper is only about one thousand miles long. But the Solimoes continues on a few thousand more and is in reality the Upper Amazon. Here is a map that shows it.”

He drew a folder out of his pocket and they spread it on the foot of a deck chair.

“See?” Rogers said, “Manaos is ten miles up the Rio Negro which comes from the north-west. The Solimoes comes from the west and has its source near Quito, Peru. It is navigable, too, almost the whole of its length in boats of some kind. As I said, though, you have seen all of the real Amazon. Now, are you satisfied?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you seen enough?”

“Of the river and country? I should say not. I haven’t even started. What I have seen has only aroused my curiosity and a stronger desire for more. I can hardly wait to get into the interior. Think of what is behind those walls of forest!”

“Mosquitoes, snakes and cannibals.”

“Good! They are just what I want to see.”

Rogers sighed but David did not notice it. He folded the map and put it back into his pocket.

In another hour they had reached Manaos.

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