September 26th.--At length we got clear of the islands, and saw once more before us the sea-like expanse of waters which forms the mouth of the Tocantins.The river had now sunk to its lowest point, and numbers of fresh-water dolphins were rolling about in shoaly places.There are here two species, one of which was new to science when I sent specimens to England; it is called the Tucuxi (Steno tucuxi of Gray).When it comes to the surface to breathe, it rises horizontally, showing first its back fin, then draws an inspiration, and dives gently down, head foremost.This mode of proceeding distinguishes the Tucuxi at once from the other species, which is called Bouto or porpoise by the natives (Inia Geoffroyi of Desmarest).When this rises the top of the head is the part first seen; it then blows, and immediately afterwards dips head downwards, its back curving over, exposing successively the whole dorsal ridge with its fin.It seems thus to pitch heels over head, but does not show the tail fin.Besides this peculiar motion, it is distinguished from the Tucuxi by its habit of generally going in pairs.Both species are exceedingly numerous throughout the Amazons and its larger tributaries, but they are nowhere more plentiful than in the shoaly water at the mouth of the Tocantins, especially in the dry season.In the Upper Amazons a third pale flesh-coloured species is also abundant (the Delphinus pallidus of Gervais).With the exception of a species found in the Ganges, all other varieties of dolphin inhabit the sea exclusively.In the broader parts of the Amazons, from its mouth to a distance of fifteen hundred miles in the interior, one or other of the three kinds here mentioned are always heard rolling, blowing, and snorting, especially at night, and these noises contribute much to the impression of sea-wide vastness and desolation which haunts the traveller.Besides dolphins in the water, frigate birds in the air are characteristic of this lower part of the Tocantins.Flocks of them were seen the last two or three days of our journey, hovering above at an immense height.Towards night, we were obliged to cast anchor over a shoal in the middle of the river to await the ebb tide.The wind blew very strongly, and this, together with the incoming flow, caused such a heavy sea that it was impossible to sleep.The vessel rolled and pitched until every bone in our bodies ached with the bumps we received, and we were all more or less seasick.On the following day we entered the Anapu, and on the 30th September, after threading again the labyrinth of channels communicating between the Tocantins and the Moju, arrived at Para.
I will now give a short account of Cameta, the principal town on the banks of the Tocantins, which I visited for the second time, in June,1849.Mr.Wallace, in the same month, departed from Para to explore the rivers Guama and Capim.I embarked as passenger in a Cameta trading vessel, the St.John, a small schooner of thirty tons burthen.I had learnt by this time that the only way to attain the objects for which I had come to this country was to accustom myself to the ways of life of the humbler classes of the inhabitants.A traveller on the Amazons gains little by being furnished with letters of recommendation to persons of note, for in the great interior wildernesses of forest and river the canoemen have pretty much their own way; the authorities cannot force them to grant passages or to hire themselves to travellers, and therefore, a stranger is obliged to ingratiate himself with them in order to get conveyed from place to place.I thoroughly enjoyed the journey to Cameta; the weather was again beautiful in the extreme.We started from Para at sunrise on the 8th of June, and on the 10th emerged from the narrow channels of the Anapu into the broad Tocantins.The vessel was so full of cargo that there was no room to sleep in the cabin; so we passed the nights on deck.The captain or supercargo, called in Portuguese cabo, was a mameluco, named Manoel, a quiet, good-humoured person, who treated me with the most unaffected civility during the three days' journey.The pilot was also a mameluco, named John Mendez, a handsome young fellow, full of life and spirit.He had on board a wire guitar or viola, as it is here called; and in the bright moonlight nights, as we lay at anchor hour after hour waiting for the tide, he enlivened us all with songs and music.He was on the best of terms with the cabo, both sleeping in the same hammock slung between the masts.I passed the nights wrapped in an old sail outside the roof of the cabin.The crew, five in number, were Indians and half-breeds, all of whom treated their two superiors with the most amusing familiarity, yet I never sailed in a better managed vessel than the St.John.
In crossing to Cameta we had to await the flood-tide in a channel called Entre-as-Ilhas, which lies between two islands in mid-river, and John Mendez, being in good tune, gave us an extempore song, consisting of a great number of verses.The crew lay about the deck listening, and all joined in the chorus.Some stanzas related to me, telling how I had come all the way from "Inglaterra," to skin monkeys and birds and catch insects; the last-mentioned employment of course giving ample scope for fun.
He passed from this to the subject of political parties in Cameta; and then, as all the hearers were Cametaenses and understood the hits, there were roars of laughter, some of them rolling over and over on the deck, so much were they tickled.
