"In The Time Demanded For A Brazilian To Reach Points In The
Interior, Setting Out From The National Capital And
Going either by
way of the Amazon or Rio de la Plata systems of waterways, he might
journey to Europe
And back two or three times over." [Footnote:
Sylvester Baxter, in The Outlook, March, 1908.]
The writer on one occasion was in Rio when a certain mission called
him to the town of Corumba, distant perhaps 1,300 miles from the
capital. Does the reader wish to journey to that inland town with
him?
Boarding an ocean steamer at Rio, we sail down the stormy sea-coast
for one thousand miles to Montevideo. There we tranship into the
Buenos Ayres boat, and proceed one hundred and fifty miles up the
river to that city. Almost every day steamers leave that great centre
for far interior points. The "Rapido" was ready to sail for Asuncion,
so we breasted the stream one thousand miles more, when that city was
reached. There another steamer waited to carry us to Corumba, another
thousand miles further north.
The climate and scenery of the upper reaches of the Paraguay are
superb, but our spirits were damped one morning when we discovered
that a man of our party had mysteriously disappeared during the
night. We had all sat down to dinner the previous evening in health
and spirits, and now one was missing. The All-seeing One only knows
his fate. To us he disappeared forever.
Higher up the country - or lower, I cannot tell which, for the river
winds in all directions, and the compass, from pointing our course as
due north, glides over to northwest, west, southwest, and on one or
two occasions, I believe, pointed due south - we came to the first
Brazilian town, Puerto Martinho, where we were obliged to stay a
short time. A boat put off from the shore, in which were some well-
dressed natives. Before she reached us and made fast, a loud report
of a Winchester rang out from the midst of those assembled on the
deck of our steamer, and a man in the boat threw up his arms and
dropped; the spark of life had gone out. So quickly did this happen
that before we had time to look around the unfortunate man was
weltering in his own blood in the bottom of the boat! The assassin,
an elderly Brazilian, who had eaten at our table and scarcely spoken
to anyone, stepped forward quietly, confessing that he had shot one
of his old enemies. He was then taken ashore in the ship's boat,
there to await Brazilian justice, and later on, to appear before a
higher tribunal, where the accounts of all men will be balanced.
Such rottenness obtains in Brazilian law that not long since a judge
sued in court a man who had bribed him and sought to evade paying the
bribe. Knowing this laxity, we did not anticipate that our murderous
fellow-traveller would have to suffer much for his crime. The News,
of Rio Janeiro, recently said: "The punishment of a criminal who has
any influence whatever is becoming one of the forgotten things."
After leaving Puerto Martinho, the uniform flatness of the river
banks changes to wild, mountainous country. On either hand rise high
mountains, whose blue tops at times almost frowned over our heads,
and the luxuriant tropical vegetation, with creeping lianas,
threatened to bar our progress. Huge alligators sunned themselves on
the banks, and birds of brilliant plumage flew from branch to branch.
Carpinchos, with heavy, pig-like tread, walked among the rushes of
the shore, and made more than one good dish for our table. This
water-hog, the largest gnawing animal in the world, is here very
common. Their length, from end of snout to tail, is between three and
four feet, while they frequently weigh up to one hundred pounds. The
girth of their body will often exceed the length by a foot. For food,
they eat the many aquatic plants of the river banks, and the puma, in
turn, finds them as delicious a morsel as we did. The head of this
amphibious hog presents quite a ludicrous aspect, owing to the great
depth of the jaw, and to see them sitting on their haunches, like
huge rabbits, is an amusing sight. The young cling on to the mother's
back when she swims.
Farther on we stopped to take in wood at a large Brazilian cattle
establishment, and a man there assured us that "there were no
venomous insects except tigers," but these killed at least fifteen
per cent. of his animals. Not long previously a tiger had, in one
night, killed five men and a dog. The heat every day grew more
oppressive. On the eighth day we passed the Brazilian fort and
arsenal of Cuimbre, with its brass cannon shining in a sun of brass,
and its sleepy inhabitants lolling in the shade.
Five weeks after leaving Rio Janeiro we finally anchored in Corumba,
an intensely sultry spot. Corumba is a town of 5,000 inhabitants, and
often said to be one of the hottest in the world. It is an unhealthy
place, as are most towns without drainage and water supply. In the
hotter season of the year the ratio on a six months' average may be
two deaths to one birth. It is a place where dogs at times seem more
numerous than people, a town where justice is administered in ways
new and strange. Does the reader wish an instance? An assassin of the
deepest dye was given over by the judge to the tender mercies of the
crowd. The man was thereupon attacked by the whole population in one
mass. He was shot and stabbed, stoned and beaten until he became
almost a shapeless heap, and was then hurried away in a mule cart,
and, without coffin, priest or mourners, was buried like a dog.
Perhaps the populace felt they had to take the law into their own
hands, for I was told that the Governor had taken upon himself the
responsibility of leaving the prison gates open to thirty-two men,
who had quietly walked out.
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