We left at 11 a.m., and progressed a little before the wind began to blow from down river, when we were obliged again to cast anchor.The terral began at six o'clock in the evening, and we sailed with it past the long line of rock-bound coast near Itapuama.At ten o'clock a furious blast of wind came from a cleft between the hills, catching us with the sails close-hauled, and throwing the canoe nearly on its beam-ends, when we were about a mile from the shore.Jose had the presence of mind to slacken the sheet of the mainsail, while I leapt forward and lowered the sprit of the foresail, the two Indians standing stupefied in the prow.It was what the canoe-men call a trovoada secca or white squall.The river in a few minutes became a sheet of foam; the wind ceased in about half an hour, but the terral was over for the night, so we pulled towards the shore to find an anchoring place.
We reached Tapaiuna by midnight on the 23rd, and on the morning of the 24th arrived at the Retiro, where we met a shrewd Santarem trader, whom I knew, Senor Chico Honorio, who had a larger and much better provided canoe than our own.The wind was strong from below all day, so we remained at this place in his company.He had his wife with him, and a number of Indians, male and female.
We slung our hammocks under the trees, and breakfasted and dined together, our cloth being spread on the sandy beach in the shade after killing a large quantity of fish with timbo, of which we had obtained a supply at Itapuama.At night we were again under way with the land breeze.The water was shoaly to a great distance off the coast, and our canoe having the lighter draught went ahead, our leadsman crying out the soundings to our companion-- the depth was only one fathom, half a mile from the coast.We spent the next day (25th) at the mouth of a creek called Pini, which is exactly opposite the village of Boim, and on the following night advanced about twelve miles.Every point of land had a long spit of sand stretching one or two miles towards the middle of the river, which it was necessary to double by a wide circuit.The terral failed us at midnight when we were near an espera, called Marai, the mouth of a shallow creek.
September 26th.--I did not like the prospect of spending the whole dreary day at Marai, where it was impossible to ramble ashore, the forest being utterly impervious, and the land still partly under water.Besides, we had used up our last stick of firewood to boil our coffee at sunrise, and could not get a fresh supply at this place.So there being a dead calm on the river in the morning, I gave orders at ten o'clock to move out of the harbour, and try with the oars to reach Paquiatuba, which was only five miles distant.We had doubled the shoaly point which stretches from the mouth of the creek, and were making way merrily across the bay, at the head of which was the port of the little settlement, when we beheld to our dismay, a few miles down the river, the signs of the violent day breeze coming down upon us--a long, rapidly advancing line of foam with the darkened water behind it.Our men strove in vain to gain the harbour; the wind overtook us, and we cast anchor in three fathoms, with two miles of shoaly water between us and the land on our lee.It came with the force of a squall: the heavy billows washing over the vessel and drenching us with the spray.I did not expect that our anchor would hold; I gave out, however, plenty of cable and watched the result at the prow, Jose placing himself at the helm, and the men standing by the jib and foresail, so as to be ready if we dragged to attempt the passage of the Marai spit, which was now almost dead to leeward.Our little bit of iron, however, held its place; the bottom being fortunately not so sandy as in most other parts of the coast; but our weak cable then began to cause us anxiety.
We remained in this position all day without food, for everything was tossing about in the hold; provision-chests, baskets, kettles, and crockery.The breeze increased in strength towards the evening, when the sun set fiery red behind the misty hills on the western shore, and the gloom of the scene was heightened by the strange contrasts of colour; the inky water and the lurid gleam of the sky.Heavy seas beat now and then against the prow of our vessel with a force that made her shiver.If we had gone ashore in this place, all my precious collections would have been inevitably lost; but we ourselves could have scrambled easily to land, and re-embarked with Senor Honorio, who had remained behind in the Pini, and would pass in the course of two or three days.
When night came I lay down exhausted with watching and fatigue, and fell asleep, as my men had done sometime before.About nine o'clock, I was awakened by the montaria bumping against the sides of the vessel, which had veered suddenly round, and the full moon, previously astern, then shone full in the cabin.The wind had abruptly ceased, giving place to light puffs from the eastern shore, and leaving a long swell rolling into the shoaly bay.
