I thank you, nevertheless, and I consider myself as twice
your debtor."
And having said so, Torres saluted the young men, who in turn saluted
him, and set out on their way to the farm.
As for Torres he looked after them as they got further and further away,
and when he had lost sight of them—
"Ah! he is about to recross the frontier!" said he, with a deep voice.
"Let him recross it! and he will be still more at my mercy! Pleasant
journey to you, Joam Garral!"
And having uttered these words the captain of the woods, making for the
south so as to regain the left bank of the river by the shortest road,
disappeared into the dense forest.
Chapter III - The Garral Family
*
THE VILLAGE of Iquitos is situated on the left bank of the Amazon, near
the seventy-fourth meridian, on that portion of the great river which
still bears the name of the Marânon, and of which the bed separates Peru
from the republic of Ecuador. It is about fifty-five leagues to the west
of the Brazilian frontier.
Iquitos, like every other collection of huts, hamlet, or village met
with in the basin of the Upper Amazon, was founded by the missionaries.
Up to the seventeenth year of the century the Iquito Indians, who
then formed the entire population, were settled in the interior of the
province at some distance from the river. But one day the springs in
their territory all dried up under the influence of a volcanic eruption,
and they were obliged to come and take up their abode on the left of the
Marânon. The race soon altered through the alliances which were entered
into with the riverine Indians, Ticunas, or Omaguas, mixed descent with
a few Spaniards, and to-day Iquitos has a population of two or three
families of half-breeds.
The village is most picturesquely grouped on a kind of esplanade, and
runs along at about sixty feet from the river. It consists of some forty
miserable huts, whose thatched roofs only just render them worthy of the
name of cottages. A stairway made of crossed trunks of trees leads up to
the village, which lies hidden from the traveler's eyes until the steps
have been ascended. Once at the top he finds himself before an inclosure
admitting of slight defense, and consisting of many different shrubs and
arborescent plants, attached to each other by festoons of lianas, which
here and there have made their way abgove the summits of the graceful
palms and banana-trees.
At the time we speak of the Indians of Iquitos went about in almost a
state of nudity. The Spaniards and half-breeds alone were clothed,
and much as they scorned their indigenous fellow-citizens, wore only
a simple shirt, light cotton trousers, and a straw hat. All lived
cheerlessly enough in the village, mixing little together, and if they
did meet occasionally, it was only at such times as the bell of the
mission called them to the dilapidated cottage which served them for a
church.
But if existence in the village of Iquitos, as in most of the hamlets
of the Upper Amazon, was almost in a rudimentary stage, it was only
necessary to journey a league further down the river to find on the same
bank a wealthy settlement, with all the elements of comfortable life.
This was the farm of Joam Garral, toward which our two young friends
returned after their meeting with the captain of the woods.
There, on a bend of the stream, at the junction of the River Nanay,
which is here about five hundred feet across, there had been established
for many years this farm, homestead, or, to use the expression of the
country, "fazenda," then in the height of its prosperity. The Nanay
with its left bank bounded it to the north for about a mile, and for
nearly the same distance to the east it ran along the bank of the larger
river. To the west some small rivulets, tributaries of the Nanay, and
some lagoons of small extent, separated it from the savannah and the
fields devoted to the pasturage of the cattle.
It was here that Joam Garral, in 1826, twenty-six years before the date
when our story opens, was received by the proprietor of the fazenda.
This Portuguese, whose name was Magalhaës, followed the trade of
timber-felling, and his settlement, then recently formed, extended for
about half a mile along the bank of the river.
There, hospitable as he was, like all the Portuguese of the old race,
Magalhaës lived with his daughter Yaquita, who after the death of her
mother had taken charge of his household. Magalhaës was an excellent
worker, inured to fatigue, but lacking education. If he understood the
management of the few slaves whom he owned, and the dozen Indians
whom he hired, he showed himself much less apt in the various external
requirements of his trade. In truth, the establishment at Iquitos was
not prospering, and the affairs of the Portuguese were getting somewhat
embarrassed.
It was under these circumstances that Joam Garral, then twenty-two years
old, found himself one day in the presence of Magalhaës. He had arrived
in the country at the limit both of his strength and his resources.
Magalhaës had found him half-dead with hunger and fatigue in the
neighboring forest. The Portuguese had an excellent heart; he did not
ask the unknown where he came from, but what he wanted. The noble,
high-spirited look which Joam Garral bore in spite of his exhaustion
had touched him. He received him, restored him, and, for several days to
begin with, offered him a hospitality which lasted for his life.
Under such conditions it was that Joam Garral was introduced to the farm
at Iquitos.
Brazilian by birth, Joam Garral was without family or fortune. Trouble,
he said, had obliged him to quit his country and abandon all thoughts
of return. He asked his host to excuse his entering on his past
misfortunes—misfortunes as serious as they were unmerited. What he
sought, and what he wished, was a new life, a life of labor. He had
started on his travels with some slight thought of entering a fazenda
in the interior. He was educated, intelligent. He had in all his bearing
that inexpressible something which tells you that the man is genuine and
of frank and upright character. Magalhaës, quite taken with him, asked
him to remain at the farm, where he would, in a measure, supply that
which was wanting in the worthy farmer.
Joam Garral accepted the offer without hesitation. His intention had
been to join a "seringal," or caoutchouc concern, in which in those
days a good workman could earn from five to six piastres a day, and
could hope to become a master if he had any luck; but Magalhaës very
truly observed that if the pay was good, work was only found in the
seringals at harvest time—that is to say, during only a few months of
the year—and this would not constitute the permanent position that a
young man ought to wish for.
The Portuguese was right. Joam Garral saw it, and entered resolutely
into the service of the fazenda, deciding to devote to it all his
powers.
Magalhaës had no cause to regret his generous action. His business
recovered. His wood trade, which extended by means of the Amazon up to
Para, was soon considerably extended under the impulse of Joam Garral.
The fazenda began to grow in proportion, and to spread out along the
bank of the river up to its junction with the Nanay. A delightful
residence was made of the house; it was raised a story, surrounded by a
veranda, and half hidden under beautiful trees—mimosas, fig-sycamores,
bauhinias, and paullinias, whose trunks were invisible beneath a network
of scarlet-flowered bromelias and passion-flowers.
At a distance, behind huge bushes and a dense mass of arborescent
plants, were concealed the buildings in which the staff of the fazenda
were accommodated—the servants' offices, the cabins of the blacks, and
the huts of the Indians.
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