Now
and then a lightning flash would illuminate the wild banks, proving
that we were not on the bosom of some Cimmerian lake, but following a
continuous stream that stretched far ahead, and I could get a glimpse
of the dark, doubly-mysterious forests on either hand; and now and
then a huge tree-trunk would slip swiftly and silently past us.
The only interruption of the perfect quiet that prevailed was the
occasional outburst of roars from the throat of the howling monkey,
which I had come to know as making the night hideous in Remate de
Males. But the present environment added just the proper atmosphere
to make one think for a second that he was participating in some
phantasm of Dante's.
There was no particular incident to record on the trip, till June
the 16th, in the night-time, when we arrived at Porto Alegre, the
glad harbour, which consisted of one hut. This hut belonged to the
proprietor of a _seringale_. I followed the captain and the clerk
ashore and, with them, was warmly received by the owner, when we had
clambered up the ladder in front of the hut. He had not heard from
civilisation for seven months, and was very glad to see people from
the outside world, especially as they were bringing a consignment of
merchandise that would enable him to commence the annual tapping of
the rubber trees.
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