The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1896-01-19

yond hope. Diseases of spleen and
liver are the bane of Pedernales; the
wonder Is that anyone should ever at
tempt to live there Look at Il as you
VIII, mangrove swamp is a dismal
abiding place, especially when as here
IL everywhere bounds the horizon
The black, rank-smelling mudfats-
the only land 1t shows-untenanted by
birds and even uninvaded by snakes.
are tokens to warn men to shun IT,
Even insects are seldom or never seen.
except indeed, the ubiquitous and
peStilent mosquito. Grabs and wading
birds seem to be the only creatures that
rejoice among the mangroves. For
this sad-leaved swamp is then the GEM
etery of equatorial natures dead lux
uriance-the cesspool which harbors all
the ruin and decay which the cleanly
river would fain wash out. but which,
the indignant sea casts back again. TO
rot ana tester among the tangling
roots and water-soaked branches.
Hence where we should otherwise find
the shell-Strewn sandy shore, there Is
only Shiny mud, with a sickening, pol
luted wash creeping in and out through
the filth-loving thicket Although some
of the mouths of the Orinoco are nav
igable for ships-and by one, at least.
steamers pass up to the city of Bolivar
this Is not the case with any of the
openings near Pedernales The chan
nels are wide enough and apparently
deep enough, but end in narrow pas
sages, or are blocked by trees or mud
banks which render progress in any
thing much larger than a canoe inn
possible.
Consequently we decided on leaving
the swdft-winged Alert and continuing
our journey In the two serviceable row
boats with which she was equipped.
To look for anacondas in the man
groves would be useless, for the peo-
pie at Pedernales informed us that
they never saw them there except per-
maps, stray one carried down by the
hoods. The point, therefore which we |
set ourselves to reach was Buja, a
semi-Indian village four days journey |
distant, situated upon the first firm |
land beyond the watery forest
NOW TO reach Buja in a vast wilder |
ness OF wooded channels extending |
over many thousand square miles. |
where we could never see anything bur |
water trees and sky, and where going /
astray might result I'm wandering for |
weeks or months, exposed to fevers.
jaguars and starvation. /
was an undertaking not to be entered
pm without experienced guides. and |
even with these, to get there was lust
4 piece OF good luck. as we afterwards
CNiib w puI NoSl.
For each boat we engaged two semi
'Nlnzed Indians TO act as guides and
Iarsmen. In addition 10 these / had
WIN me my TWO young snake-hunters.
ana one or the Alert's sailors,-a negro
rom Tobago. who spoke no LANGUAGE
lut English. In the other boat was DIR
Wayman with his friend. two men
rom the Alert and two full-blooded
Indians.
A little after midday we left Peder-
lales and proceeded westward Hour
after hour we continued onwards
through the same dreary Wilderness
n all the miles we passed that evening
We never saw another tree or plant bur
nangrove. Sometimes wadinr bird
would be seen disappearing over the
huu INTO the thicket. and at other |
lines flock OF ibeses would wing their
way across the water. Wayman shot |
ONE or both. but as for me. shooting
ave me no delight; / preferred seeing |
mem alive. l kept close watch for ! ,
makes in the branches. but in vain
We had hoped that before night tree
I other species might begin 10 show
themselves, but in this. too. we u-ara |
isappointed. No sound did we haar ,
ave that of the oars and our own
oices. Even the chattering of parrots
lsewhere so common. was nowhere to
e heard. The light was now barely ,
ufhcient 10 show the channel. In ST.
nee and darkness we went On for
eVeral hours: at last the sound of a
rum zen upon our ears. Where could ,
come from2
our Indians satisfied our curiosity by ,
7ihhg US that their people were hav- !