Our Little Brazilian Cousin

CHAPTER IV

ALONG THE AMAZON

"Come, son," said the Senhor early next morning. "We have a long day before us and you must eat plenty of breakfast. That is if you want to go with your uncle and me. If not, you may go back home with Joachim."

"Where are you going?" asked Affonzo as he smoothed down his linen suit, and combed his hair with a pocket comb from his dapper little uncle's case. He had washed his face in the stream which gurgled near the hut, and that was all the toilet he could make, which seemed odd to him, for he was something of a dandy.

"We are going the rounds with Vicente to see the rubber plantation, and then go home by the river."

"Do let me go with you, I am sure my mother would not object," cried Affonzo.

"I shall send Joachim home with word of your safety to ease her mind, and as you wish it so much, you may come with us; so eat and we will start."

Senhor Dias was a rubber exporter. From his plantation near Para went out huge balls of the rubber, solid, tough and brown. It is very interesting to watch the process of obtaining this from the milk-white sap of the rubber trees.

"Well, Vicente, shall we start now," said the Senhor when they had breakfasted.

"When the Senhor is ready," said Vicente.

The Indian lived by himself all the year around in his little hut. All along the Amazon these cabins may be found, hidden in the woods, and in each one dwells only a single Indian. It is a lonely and dangerous life, the climate is unhealthful, the swampy lands of the river valley where the rubber trees grow are low and malarious, and the syringuero has often to wade knee deep in mud, and work all day in wet clothing.

The Indians are trustworthy workers and many of them earn a good living. Old Vicente had worked there so long that he would not have known how to act anywhere else, but he was glad to have company on his lonely rounds. So he smiled at Affonzo as the boy skipped along, gathering one gorgeous flower after another, as merry as the sunshine after the rain.

"You'd better walk a little more slowly, and save your strength for the day's tramp," said his father. "You'll be tired by night."

Vicente guided them down a well-worn path through the marsh land. On each side were splendid trees, the rubber tree growing as high as seventy feet. The trunk, smooth and round, was covered with light-coloured bark, the leaves, oval and about a foot long, hanging in clusters of three. The fruit grows in clusters also, and consists of a small black nut which the natives like very much. Affonzo picked one up and tasted it, but made a very wry face as it was quite bitter.

Selecting a fine tree, Vicente made a deep cut in the bark with his hatchet. Below it, by means of some damp clay, he fastened an earthen cup, into which the cream-coloured sap flowed slowly.

"By to-morrow the cup will be full," he said. "And I will come again. Now we will find another."

The next tree was half a mile away and it had frequently been tapped before, for a row of incisions girdled it. Vicente emptied the cups attached to these into a large pail which he carried, and made a new gash higher up.

"Do let me tap just one tree," said Affonzo, and Vicente allowed him to do so and helped him fasten on one of the cups to catch the sap. Affonzo was delighted, and tramped along gaily, although his short legs found it difficult to keep up with the long strides of his father and uncle.

At last Vicente finished his rounds, and said, as he showed the Senhor his brimming pail, "This is all to-day. Does the Senhor wish to see it cooked?"

"Yes, I want Affonzo to see it all, as I know he will be interested," said Senhor Dias, and they all followed the Indian to a little hut, such as the one in which they had slept the night before.

"Let us eat first," said the Senhor. "Our walk has given us all appetites."

So Vicente built a fire and roasted a lagarto4 which he had killed on the way through the forest. The delicate white flesh tasted delicious to Affonzo, and so did the bananas and oranges and black coffee, which Vicente made thick and strong as it is liked in Brazil.

Vicente then made another fire of nuts and the wood of the motacu5 under a jug-shaped calabash, the smoke coming out through the neck. This smoke hastens the drying of the liquid rubber, and makes a better quality than can be obtained in any other way.

"I don't see how that stuff that looks like cream can ever be made like rubber," said Affonzo.

"Watch Vicente," said his father, "and you will see." As he spoke, Vicente dipped a long paddle into the liquid, and then held it over the smoke. It quickly dried and he dipped the paddle into the juice again, repeating the process of drying. This he kept up until the paddle had a thick coating of rubber, like a large, flattened ball. Then he split the ball open along one side, and pulled the paddle out.

"There now!" said the Senhor. "The rubber is all ready to go to market. Perhaps some day you will bounce a ball or wear a pair of goloshes made of this very rubber."

"Won't that be fine!" said Affonzo. "What are you going to do now," he asked, as his father rose as if to go.

"As soon as Vicente has finished cooking, we will go to the river, and go home by water," said the Senhor. "Then you will see some of the wood your uncle and I mean to export."

"That will be much better than tramping," said Affonzo, whose short legs began to be stiff and sore with all the walking he had done.

Vicente soon finished cooking his rubber, and put up the utensils before following Affonzo and the two men down the path to the river.

"Vicente is a good Indian, isn't he?" said Affonzo.

"One of the best I have ever known," said his father. "He has worked for us for years and has always been honest and reliable. It is strange that he should be so hospitable and friendly, for his ancestors and ours were always at war. When your grandfather was a young man there was always fear of the natives, and at one time there was an Indian uprising in which many Portuguese were killed. The Indians captured the city of Para, burned many of the houses, and destroyed everything they couldn't carry away with them. They held the city over a year before the Portuguese could recapture it."

"It must have been exciting to live then," cried Affonzo, who loved to read of wars and battles and thought they must be interesting things.

But his uncle said, "More peaceful times are less exciting, but far pleasanter and you would better be thankful that you live now. There is the river! How beautiful it looks!"

Affonzo had often seen the Amazon, the greatest river in the world, and had been on it in the steamers which ply between Para and Mañaos, but he had never seen it at this point, and he exclaimed in wonder at its beauty. The river was two miles wide, and in the centre was a broad deep channel down which the water flowed slowly. On each side of this were stretches of shallow water, while on either bank grew thick forests of superb trees.

Vicente drew a canoe from a thicket about a sheltered cove and the little party embarked, Vicente paddling carefully.

"Isn't this splendid?" cried Affonzo. "I feel as if I were Orellaño discovering the river."

"Why, what do you know about him?" asked his uncle.

"Oh, he was fine," said Affonzo. "He was one of Gonzalo Pizzarro's lieutenants and he crossed the Andes to find cinnamon trees. He had only fifty men and they built a boat and started down the river and had a terrible time for days. At last they reached the mouth of the river, and were picked up by some Spanish ships. It told all about it in my geography."

"Did it tell how he named the river?" asked Uncle Prudente. "Orellaña fell in with an Indian tribe where the women fought side by side with the men; you know women soldiers are called Amazons, so he called the river 'Rio de las Amazones.'"

"See those magnificent satin-wood trees," said Senhor Dias to his brother. "Nowhere in all the world is there such wood from which to make fine furniture as here."

Then the two gentlemen fell into a talk about business plans, and Affonzo curled up in the canoe and watched the interesting things they passed. It was a scene of contrast. A native boat, one end thatched over for a house, a hammock, in which a man lolled lazily, swung across its deck, was passing by a large steamer gay with flags and striped awnings. He also saw boats laden with rubber, and many rafts made of great logs held together by long wooden pins driven through them, for their long voyage to Para.

As they continued down the stream, the thatched native huts became fewer, and there could be seen the tiled roofs of the country homes of the wealthy. It was not long before Affonzo saw, gleaming through the trees, the white walls of their own Fazenda and, landing quickly, he bade good-by to Vicente, and rushed across the lawn to tell all his adventures to his mother and Lola.

CHAPTER V

A VISIT TO GRANDMAMMA'S

The Fazenda of the Senhor Dias stood upon a hill overlooking the Amazon. About it were trees and gardens, and a small stream flowed through the grounds toward the great river. A pleasant little summer-house was set under a giant palm tree and about the whole place was an air of ease and comfort. Upon the broad, pillared veranda and between the shady trees hammocks were slung for the midday siesta, and the life of the villa was cheerful and pleasant.

Affonzo was very tired the day after his jaunt through the forest, and toward evening he lazily lay in a cool hammock swinging back and forth. His sister sat on a cushion at his feet listening in delight to the story of his adventures.

Lola was only eight years old and she thought her big brother of eleven quite the most wonderful boy in the world.

"How I wish you could have been with me, Lola," said Affonzo. "Of course you could not, for girls can not go to the places that boys can. But it was most exciting! What you would like would be to hear Vicente. He told me a wonderful story."

"Do tell it to me," said Lola, and Affonzo retold the story of the Gilded Man, to her great delight.

"Oh! what a nice story," cried Lola as he finished. "What was the Indian's house like?"

"It wasn't a real house, you know," said Affonzo. "It was a little round hut all thatched with straw, and he had bows and arrows and all kinds of things." Affonzo was rather vague in his description. "The trees around were the finest I ever saw. Oh! I am sure there is no country in the world like ours!"

Lola smiled, and, touching the strings of her guitar, sang softly:

"Brava, little one," cried Uncle Prudente who had come out from his siesta refreshed and cool. "That was very prettily sung, little patriot. Have you children heard the news?"

"What news, my uncle?" asked Affonzo.

"That you are to go home with me to-morrow to see your grandmother."

"How glad I am!" cried Affonzo, and Lola danced up and down in delight, saying,

"It is long since we have been in Para, and the ride on the river will be so pleasant."

The next day was bright and fair and their sail down the great river as pleasant as they had anticipated. The air was cool and the sun partially under a cloud, so that the heat was not too great and the banks of the stream, with their trees and flowers, presented views as vivid and changing as a kaleidoscope.

The city of Para is one of the most important places in Brazil. From it are sent out into the world all the produce of the wonderful valley of the Amazon, – woods, rubber and fruits. Its markets are busy spots of industry, and its harbour teems with shipping.

The mother of the Senhor Dias lived in a handsome house on the edge of the town. Since the death of her husband she had lived with her only unmarried son, the Uncle Prudente of whom the children were so fond. She received the travellers warmly. Her son Martim's wife was very dear to her, his children her idols, especially Affonzo. He was his grandfather's image; with his flashing black eyes, his proud mouth, his quick, impetuous manner, he was so like the noble old man she had so loved, that he seemed to embody the youth of her beloved dead.

"You must remain for a long visit with me," she said to the children. "I have asked the children of friends to come and play with you in the garden this afternoon. Some of your school-mates will be here, Affonzo, and some little folk for Lola. I hope you will have a pleasant time."

"You are most kind, grandmamma," cried both children, and when their friends came, they all repaired to the shady garden behind the house.

There were about a dozen boys and girls all chattering at once, but in a moment's quiet Lola said,

"Let us play 'Dona Sancha.' I should like it so much and we have thirteen, just the right number."

"Yes," said a little girl named Catharina.

"There are seven girls and six boys. One of us must be it."

"Who shall be it?" they all cried merrily, and one of the larger girls stood them in a row and repeated,

The lot fell to a little black-eyed girl called Constancia, who was then blindfolded and around whom the others formed a circle by joining hands. Then all danced around Constancia singing,

At this Constancia uncovered her face, and sang,

Then the others sang,

At the last words the boys and girls let go of each other's hands and each one, including Constancia, made a rush for a partner. Lola was the one to be left out and she had to be blindfolded, and take Constancia's place in the centre of the ring. So the game went on, each girl taking her turn in the centre as often as she failed to catch a partner in the scramble.

When the children were tired of play, their grandmother sent out Christovao, an old white-haired negro who had once been a slave, and he showed them many wonderful tricks of juggling. He made flowers to bloom in their hats, money to grow on trees, and many other queer things to happen, and his pet monkey kept them laughing with his queer antics. Then they all sat down around the stone fountain and had a delicious luncheon of doces,7 cocada,8 and sweet cakes, and Affonzo and Lola went to bed that night quite delighted with their first day in Para.

CHAPTER VI

EN ROUTE TO RIO

Para is one of the most beautiful of Brazilian cities, with large cool houses, and squares and gardens gay with wonderful orchids, – purple, crimson, gold and white.

The weeks spent at grandmamma's were full of delight to Affonzo and Lola, and they enjoyed all the pleasant happenings of life in the city. One day in October they sat in the garden playing with the pet monkey, a saucy little creature with a thousand cunning tricks and ways, almost human in his intelligence.

"I wonder how soon we shall go home," said Affonzo. "I begin to weary of doing nothing."

"I do not know," said Lola. "But I heard mamma say something strange about it to-day. She and my father were talking while I was playing with the cockatoo and mamma said, 'It will be a long trip and I should dislike to leave them behind.' 'It would do you little good to go with them,' said my father, and mamma replied that the worry of leaving them would take away all the pleasure of the trip if they were not to accompany her; then she saw me looking and bade my father be silent. What trip could they mean?"

"I am sure I do not know, and you should never remember a conversation not meant for you," said Affonzo, virtuously. Then, his curiosity getting the better of his virtue, "I wonder where they can be intending to go!"

"But if I should not remember what I hear, then you should not either," said Lola pertly, for she did not like to have Affonzo correct her.

"We are two quite different people," said Affonzo. "I am much older than you."

"When one is old, one should behave better than one who is young," Lola retorted.

"Both are quite old enough not to quarrel," said their mother's voice sternly, as she came up unnoticed. "What are you quarrelling about?"

Both children were silent and ashamed.

"If you dare not tell the cause, then cease the quarrel," said the Senhora. "And remember that well-bred children do not dispute. Now sit down while I tell you what is going to happen.

"Your father has intended for some time to make a business trip to Rio de Janeiro, going by boat from Para. He wishes me to go with him, for I have not been well of late, and he thought best to leave you two with your grandmother. I wished you to accompany me, and some news has just come which has caused him to give his consent.

"Your Uncle Juan, who went to study medicine in Philadelphia, married there a beautiful North American lady, and has a little daughter the age of Affonzo. She is named Maria and she had the great misfortune to lose her mother a few months ago. She grieves terribly and her father is bringing her to Brazil in the hope that among his people she will grow well and strong again. They will reach Rio de Janeiro in a short time, and we want to be there to see them. Would you like to go with us on this trip?"

"Indeed yes, mamma!" cried both in one breath. "When do we start?"

"To-morrow," she replied. "I did not tell you before, because I feared you would too much excite yourselves. Then too I thought something might happen to prevent our going and you would be disappointed."

"Hurrah," cried Affonzo. "We shall see Uncle Hilario!"

"And I shall see my cousin Martim!" cried Lola.

"Yes, we shall visit my dear brother, and you shall have a very happy time with two cousins to play with.

"Now you must be good children and give me a chance to pack up your clothes. No questions!" She held up her finger playfully. "Those you may save to ask me on ship-board. Here is a map which shows just where we are going, and you may trace out the course and Affonzo can tell you about all the places from his geography, Lola," and she left the two children poring over the geography, their tongues fairly clacking in their excitement.

The Icamiaba is a large steamer plying from Mañaos to Rio, and by noon the next day the little party of four were safely embarked and the steamer made its way out of the beautiful harbour. The long voyage was begun, but to Affonzo and Lola it was not tedious, for, the only children on board, they soon became pets with all and were in a fair way to being spoiled with attention. The second day out the steamer made its first stop at Pernambuco on the easternmost point of Brazil, and the children watched the entrance into the harbour with great interest.

"Pernambuco is called the Venice of America," said their father. "You know Venice is an Italian city built on islands, with waterways instead of streets, and here there are so many canals and arms of water reaching in from the sea that Pernambuco is called the Venice of America."

"What a lot of steamers there are!" exclaimed Affonzo as they approached the reef which protects the harbour. This reef runs along the Brazilian coast for hundreds of miles, forming a natural breakwater, sometimes twelve feet above high tide.

"N-I-L-E," spelled Affonzo as they passed a huge steamer anchored outside the harbour. "What kind of a boat is that?"

"English," said his father. "The English run a line of steamers from Southampton to Lisbon, and thence to Rio Janeiro. These boats carry a thousand passengers, and are so large that they cannot go through the cut in the breakwater."

"Oh, papa! What a queer building! What is it?" asked Lola, as they passed an odd-looking fort on the rocks.

"That is a relic of Dutch days in Brazil," said the Senhor. "You know the Dutch once laid claim to all this part of the country."