Wanderings in South America | Page 8

indeed is the
only one which can be called a fall, large balls of froth come floating
past you. The river appears beautifully marked with streaks of foam,
and on your nearer approach the stream is whitened all over.
At first you behold the fall rushing down a bed of rocks with a
tremendous noise, divided into two foamy streams which, at their
junction again, form a small island covered with wood. Above this
island, for a short space, there appears but one stream, all white with
froth, and fretting and boiling amongst the huge rocks which obstruct
its course.
Higher up it is seen dividing itself into a short channel or two, and trees
grow on the rocks which cause its separation. The torrent, in many
places, has eaten deep into the rocks, and split them into large
fragments by driving others against them. The trees on the rocks are in
bloom and vigour, though their roots are half bared and many of them
bruised and broken by the rushing waters.
This is the general appearance of the fall from the level of the water
below to where the river is smooth and quiet above. It must be
remembered that this is during the periodical rains. Probably, in the dry
season, it puts on a very different appearance. There is no perpendicular
fall of water of any consequence throughout it, but the dreadful roaring
and rushing of the torrent, down a long rocky and moderately sloping
channel, has a fine effect; and the stranger returns well pleased with
what he has seen. No animal, nor craft of any kind, could stem this
downward flood. In a few moments the first would be killed, the
second dashed in pieces.
The Indians have a path alongside of it, through the forest, where
prodigious crabwood trees grow. Up this path they drag their canoes
and launch them into the river above; and on their return bring them
down the same way.

About two hours below this fall is the habitation of an Acoway chief
called Sinkerman. At night you hear the roaring of the fall from it. It is
pleasantly situated on the top of a sand-hill. At this place you have the
finest view the River Demerara affords: three tiers of hills rise in slow
gradation, one above the other, before you, and present a grand and
magnificent scene, especially to him who has been accustomed to a
level country.
Here, a little after midnight, on the first of May, was heard a most
strange and unaccountable noise: it seemed as though several regiments
were engaged and musketry firing with great rapidity. The Indians,
terrified beyond description, left their hammocks and crowded all
together like sheep at the approach of the wolf. There were no soldiers
within three or four hundred miles. Conjecture was of no avail, and all
conversation next morning on the subject was as useless and
unsatisfactory as the dead silence which succeeded to the noise.
He who wishes to reach the Macoushi country had better send his
canoe over- land from Sinkerman's to the Essequibo.
There is a pretty good path, and meeting a creek about three-quarters of
the way, it eases the labour, and twelve Indians will arrive with it in the
Essequibo in four days.
The traveller need not attend his canoe; there is a shorter and a better
way. Half an hour below Sinkerman's he finds a little creek on the
western bank of the Demerara. After proceeding about a couple of
hundred yards up it, he leaves it, and pursues a west-north-west
direction by land for the Essequibo. The path is good, though
somewhat rugged with the roots of trees, and here and there obstructed
by fallen ones; it extends more over level ground than otherwise. There
are a few steep ascents and descents in it, with a little brook running at
the bottom of them, but they are easily passed over, and the fallen trees
serve for a bridge.
You may reach the Essequibo with ease in a day and a half; and so
matted and interwoven are the tops of the trees above you that the sun
is not felt once all the way, saving where the space which a

newly-fallen tree occupied lets in his rays upon you. The forest
contains an abundance of wild hogs, lobbas, acouries, powisses, maams,
maroudis and waracabas for your nourishment, and there are plenty of
leaves to cover a shed whenever you are inclined to sleep.
The soil has three-fourths of sand in it till you come within half an
hour's walk of the Essequibo, where you find a red gravel and rocks. In
this retired and solitary tract Nature's garb, to all appearance, has not
been injured by fire nor her productions broken in upon