Colonel Roosevelt - Edmund Morris [194]
But Roosevelt the hunter saw little to get fat on. Butterflies greased no bread, and no explorer who valued his life would dare to cook an Amazonian mushroom. The forest canopy amounted to a separate habitat, roamed by species unlikely to descend. Bored with survey stops, he went ahead with George Cherrie and Dr. Cajazeira in the hope of finding some break in the vegetation that might yield game. A meadow presented itself as ground for the expedition’s first camp. There were a few tapir trails through the trees, but none fresh enough to pursue. The river was too engorged for profitable fishing. Fiala’s tinned rations would have to do until meat could be found.
Roosevelt had the tents pitched, a guard posted, and stoves crackling by the time the surveyors turned up, weary but pleased with their mapping. The sky, overcast for much of the day, cleared at sunset. Dinner was served under a brilliant powdering of stars, or estrêlas as Rondon called them, in one of the many Portuguese words Kermit found more mellifluous than English. Gnats, pium flies, and mosquitoes swarmed only moderately.
ALTHOUGH ROOSEVELT WAS taken aback by the general soundlessness of the jungle, he heard enough bird calls in the morning to help Cherrie hunt for specimens. The naturalist did the shooting. They were rewarded with a brilliant turquoise cotinga and a woodpecker, whose display represented every color of the rainbow except yellow.
At noon they resumed their journey downriver. The other canoes had preceded them. Roosevelt reveled again in the beauty around him. He admired the fretwork of palm fronds against the sky and the gleaming green of rain-slicked leaves, melting into gold where the sun fell. He studied the different skin tones of his half-naked paddlers as they bent their backs over the water. Julio, up front, had the olive complexion of a pure Portuguese; Luiz the steersman was black; Antonio, amidships, was a coppery Parecís.
The Dúvida seemed charged with as much upcountry spill as its valley could hold. But just after Roosevelt’s dugout caught up with the rest of the flotilla, a big affluent gushed in from the right. Rondon deduced it to be the Rio Festa da Bandeira, which the command detachment had crossed some ten days before, in Nhambiquara country. Its inflow proved that the Dúvida was a major river.
Encouragingly, 16.5 kilometers were explored that day, and 20.7 the next, despite frequent showers that dropped scrims between Kermit’s rod and Lyra’s têlemetro. In such conditions they simply sat and soaked until the sun came out. Then instruments, cameras, and clothes steamed off in the slamming heat. It was March now. Signs of Indian settlement were seen: a burned field here, a vine-bridge there. But no human beings showed themselves. Cherrie shot a large dark-gray monkey, and Roosevelt enjoyed his first simian stew, which he found “very good eating.”
On the fourth day the expedition was moving smoothly and surveying with increased efficiency, thanks to the high level of the river as it slid over invisible rocks and half-submerged boritana palms (their protruding fronds, still full of life, combing the current). After twenty kilometers the valley constricted, and the Dúvida gained pace. A roar of white water came from ahead. All canoes swung to the right bank, and the paddlers leaped out to moor them. Roosevelt accompanied a reconnaissance party forward and came upon some seriously obstructive rapids. Curls, falls, ponds, and whirlpools descended in a misty chute nearly a mile