The people occupy themselves the greater part of the year with their small plantations of mandioca.All the heavy work, such as felling and burning the timber, planting and weeding, is done in the plantation of each family by a congregation of neighbours, which they call a "pucherum"--a similar custom to the "bee" in the backwood settlements of North America.They make quite a holiday of each pucherum.When the invitation is issued, the family prepares a great quantity of fermented drink, called in this part Taroba, made from soaked mandioca cakes, and porridge of Manicueira.This latter is a kind of sweet mandioca, very different from the Yuca of the Peruvians and Macasheira of the Brazilians (Manihot Aypi), having oblong juicy roots, which become very sweet a few days after they are gathered.With these simple provisions they regale their helpers.The work is certainly done, but after a very rude fashion; all become soddened with Taroba, and the day finishes often in a drunken brawl.
The climate is rather more humid than that of Santarem.I suppose this is to be attributed to the neighbouring country being densely wooded instead of an open campo.In no part of the country did I enjoy more the moonlit nights than here, in the dry season.After the day's work was done, I used to go down to the shores of the bay, and lie at full length on the cool sand for two or three hours before bedtime.The soft pale light, resting on broad sandy beaches and palm-thatched huts, reproduced the effect of a mid-winter scene in the cold north when a coating of snow lies on the landscape.A heavy shower falls about once a week, and the shrubby vegetation never becomes parched as at Santarem.Between the rains, the heat and dryness increase from day to day-- the weather on the first day after the rain is gleamy, with intervals of melting sunshine and passing clouds;the next day is rather drier, and the east wind begins to blow;then follow days of cloudless sky, with gradually increasing strength of breeze.When this has continued about a week, a light mistiness begins to gather about the horizon; clouds are formed;grumbling thunder is heard; and then, generally in the night-time, down falls the refreshing rain.The sudden chill caused by the rains produces colds, which are accompanied by the same symptoms as in our own climate; with this exception, the place is very healthy.
June 17th--The two young men returned without meeting with my montaria, and I found it impossible here to buy a new one.
Captain Thomas could find me only one hand.This was a blunt-spoken but willing young Indian, named Manoel.He came on board this morning at eight o'clock, and we then got up our anchor and resumed our voyage.
The wind was light and variable all day, and we made only about fifteen miles by seven o'clock in the evening.The coast formed a succession of long, shallow bays with sandy beaches, upon which the waves broke in a long line of surf.Ten miles above Altar de Chao is a conspicuous headland, called Point Cajetuba.During a lull of the wind, towards midday, we ran the cuberta aground in shallow water and waded ashore; but the woods were scarcely penetrable, and not a bird was to be seen.The only thing observed worthy of note was the quantity of drowned winged ants along the beach; they were all of one species, the terrible formiga de fogo (Myrmica saevis sima); the dead, or half-dead bodies of which were heaped up in a line an inch or two in height and breadth, the line continuing without interruption for miles at the edge of the water.The countless thousands had been doubtless cast into the river while flying during a sudden squall the night before, and afterwards, cast ashore by the waves.We found ourselves at seven o'clock near the mouth of a creek leading to a small lake, called Aramana-i, and the wind having died away, we anchored, guided by the lights ashore, near the house of a settler named Jeronymo, whom I knew, and who, soon after, showed us a snug little harbour where we could remain in safety for the night.The river here cannot be less than ten miles broad; it is quite clear of islands and free from shoals at this season of the year.The opposite coast appeared in the daytime as a long thin line of forest, with dim grey hills in the background.
Today (19th) we had a good wind, which carried us to the mouth of a creek, culled Paquiatuba, where the "inspector" of the district lived, Senor Cypriano, for whom I had brought an order from Captain Thomas to supply me with another hand.We had great difficulty in finding a place to land.The coast in this part was a tract of level, densely-wooded country, through which flowed the winding rivulet, or creek, which gives its name to a small scattered settlement hidden in the wilderness; the hills here receding two or three miles towards the interior.A large portion of the forest was flooded, the trunks of the very high trees near the mouth of the creek standing eighteen feet deep in water.We lost two hours working our way with poles through the inundated woods in search of the port.Every inlet we tried ended in a labyrinth choked up with bushes, but we were at length guided to the right place by the crowing of cocks.On shouting for a montaria, an Indian boy made his appearance, guiding one through the gloomy thickets; but he was so alarmed, I suppose at the apparition of a strange-looking white man in spectacles bawling from the brow of the vessel, that he shot back quickly into the bushes.He returned when Manoel spoke, and we went ashore, the montaria winding along a gloomy overshadowed water-path made by cutting away the lower branches and underwood.The foot-road to the houses was a narrow, sandy alley, bordered by trees of stupendous height, overrun with creepers, and having an unusual number of long air-roots dangling from the epiphytes on their branches.
