One by one, the camaradas emptied the canoes and painstakingly bore the provisions on their brawny shoulders down and through the heavy thicket to the base of the white water run. Three teams of the best paddlers were tasked with steering the smallest and lightest of the dugouts through the rapids. Simplicio and Antonio would lead the way. When they completed a pass, they planned to offer experienced advice to Julio and his partner, who would then pass information regarding the river’s sharp turns and deadly boulders to another set of camaradas guiding the third canoe.
Kermit and Lyra supervised the lowering of the heaviest canoes by rope and hand. This turned out to be the cruelest task of all, struggling against the full force of onrushing water. Swarms of biting ants clung to plants crowding the rugged shoreline, and the men were bitten repeatedly until they swelled with blisters the size of silver dollars. Several times—and despite their best efforts—the burdensome canoes became swamped in the whooshing quagmire, yet luckily the rickety boats were rescued by the beleaguered and exhausted workers.
They had bypassed the first set of rapids by early afternoon and embarked once again. And just as Martin predicted, they came to a stop just an hour later. Amid the men’s grumbling, they began the tedious process of unloading the vessels once more. Like the previous stretch of swift water, Kermit and Lyra used ropes to lower the heavy canoes, and Simplicio and Antonio prepared to run the first light dugout down the six-hundred-yard long passage. Roosevelt, Cherrie, and the expedition’s cook forged ahead to scout an area suitable for camp near the base of the rapids.
A half-hour passed. Roosevelt watched Simplicio and Antonio guide the canoe skillfully through the treacherous waters. At about a hundred yards distant, Roosevelt heard loud yells over the water’s rush as the men were forced to paddle frantically and bring the craft sharply to Roosevelt’s left, before straightening the canoe again and finally pulling to shore.
A visibly-shaken Simplicio reported directly to Roosevelt. “Most of the run is not so difficult, senhor Colonel. And yet, as you have seen, there is a stretch of water that is quite dangerous.” He pointed. “There is a huge rock outcropping at the stream’s center which cannot be bypassed. A sharp turn to the right must be executed with skillful timing, otherwise…” He made a hard chopping motion with his hands.
Roosevelt nodded.
Julio arrived at the base camp carrying a few of the officer’s items. He awaited instructions from Simplicio before he was to return upriver and guide the remaining two canoes. Julio listened carefully while Simplicio spoke in Portuguese. Roosevelt and Cherrie watched Simplicio point toward the hazardous turn. Julio listened to his fellow camarada’s apparent warning and nodded smugly. “Sim, sim,” he repeated.
Theodore Roosevelt took note of Julio’s vapid smirk.
Roosevelt glanced at his pocket watch accounting for the passage of another half-hour. Wordlessly, Antonio and Simplicio stared upstream waiting for the next set of dugouts to emerge on the river above. Antonio hollered suddenly and pointed wildly, catching sight of Julio riding the canoe through the churning water. Roosevelt watched Julio easily maneuver the boat ninety degrees when they approached the problem area. Julio straightened the canoe with broad sweeping strokes and paddled the crude dugout into shore near Simplicio.
At that very moment, the third canoe barreled straight down the rapids. Simplicio and Antonio yelled and waved, but it was far too late. The canoe knocked the rock and the steersman catapulted headfirst into the water. The vessel’s bowman managed to hold firm and then hurriedly seized control. He immediately began to search for his lost companion. The canoe ran upon more tranquil water a few seconds later.
Simplicio ran down the shoreline and dove into the water. Antonio yelled and pointed at a set of flailing arms being carried across the swift current. Simplicio intercepted the man just as he was about to be lost downriver. Struggling mightily, he pulled the man toward shore. Antonio waded into the water and helped both rescuer and victim onto dry land.
Breathing heavily, the injured camarada staggered to a fallen tree trunk and plopped down. He held his forehead while blood oozed between his roughened fingers. Roosevelt tore a strip from his shirt and tied it firmly around the man’s skull. Colonel Roosevelt noted this same man partook in the previous day’s altercation.
Suddenly the injured man stood and yelled wildly in Portuguese. He lurched toward Julio while Julio backed away, shaking his head. The man gestured toward the rapids, and Julio waved his hand dismissively. Simplicio stepped into the fray, directing some calmer words toward Julio. Julio once again waved his hand meekly and stood his ground. Clearly frustrated, Simplicio shook his head.
George Cherrie overheard the ruckus and attempted to translate, but the words were flying at breakneck speed and he could only decipher some choice Brazilian profanity.
Finally, Roosevelt intervened. “What is going on here?”
The three men quieted.
Simplicio spoke directly to the injured man in English. “Is there some kind of problem here?”
The man hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. “No, senhors, there is no problem.”
Simplicio shook his head. He turned to Roosevelt and shrugged, saying warily, “I guess there is no problem, senhor Colonel.”
The men had just completed a pitiless full day’s work swollen with insect bites and on half-rations with no fresh meat to replenish their energy, when the skies opened up with a drenching rain, making their evening clustered around the smoldering campfire even more miserable.
The officers and camaradas sat separately, huddling in their raincoats and whispering in small groups while the rain poured down upon their heads and drenched their backs. Some of the more sensible camaradas remained busy cutting immense ten-foot-long wild banana leaves that they used to construct shelters over their customary hammocks, while others, Roosevelt noted, simply didn’t seem to care.
Roosevelt discretely pulled the expedition’s officers aside. Lieutenant Lyra spoke first. “Paishon has informed me that the camaradas appear to have broken into two factions. Julio has managed to convince a few others to his cause, opposed by Simplicio and Antonio and many of the remaining men, who remain loyal to Colonel Rondon and the expedition’s goals. Nobody appears to know exactly what Julio wants out of all this maneuvering, but he clearly wishes to undermine Colonel Rondon’s and senhor Roosevelt’s authority.”
“Power,” Kermit said, “the opium of malcontents.”
Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “This is all extremely disconcerting. All of these men have access to guns and ammunition.”
“Let me just say, if I may,” George Cherrie said. “I would strongly suggest we do not limit the rank-and-file’s access to firearms. Restricting them in this fashion can have disastrous effects on an expedition, often resulting in opposite the desired outcome. I have seen this scenario play out many times on previous jungle missions.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Rondon said. “Any effort we officers make in this regard will be met with scorn and paranoia. It could very well tip the balance in favor of those with ill intent.”
“Then, we must keep some sort of equilibrium?” Roosevelt asked.
“Yes, senhor, the seeds of discontent must be contained and not snuffed out completely. We must always remember that these men’s objectives are similar to our own in many respects. They wish to return to their homes and families quickly and safely, and they care little of who may be in charge. Whilst in the wilderness these men must be thought of as co-workers—not as servant and master, or military commander and foot-soldier.”
Roosevelt felt Rondon’s last statement a bit odd coming from such a strict disciplinarian, and yet it did make sense in this situation, appealing to Roosevelt’s more pragmatic disposition. “But these minor insurrections can be dangerous,” Roosevelt said. “It could even turn deadly if left unchecked. One needn’t look further than the incident at the rapids this afternoon.”
“Sim, yes, i
t can be very dangerous.”
“A good man might have been killed.”
“Yes, yes, although none have come forward to complain of any criminal actions. These men are like all others when cast together in the harshest of situations—they will be more fiercely loyal to one another than they will ever be to any of us.”
Roosevelt nodded in agreement. “That is a brutally honest truth, Colonel Rondon. And our Mr. Julio de Lima certainly knows this fact; consequentially, he may feel free to operate unimpeded.”
“That is true to some extent, Colonel Roosevelt. Julio knows well that he will fail if he pushes too hard. And if he fails, he will lose any respect he may have accumulated, whether earned or otherwise.”
“And what do we make of Lieutenant Martin? Has he any stake in this?”
Lieutenant Lyra shook his head. “Paishon has found no evidence of Martin’s involvement, but he does suspect Martin of some ‘unseen hand’ in many of these disagreements—‘stirring the pot’ as some would say.”
“Yes, Martin has been unusually quiet and circumspect,” Cherrie said, “ever since he presented his story and his outlandish theories.”
“Perhaps he feels humiliated,” Roosevelt added. “Although I have to say he has performed his duties honorably and has certainly upheld his end of our contract.”
“Sim, senhors,” Lyra said. “He is a tireless worker and is a crack shot with the rifle, and yet his relationship with Julio both concerns and puzzles me.”
Colonel Rondon sighed deeply. “There is an overriding truth that the likelihood of insurrection grows with each day of hunger these men are compelled to endure. We must make certain to provide fresh meat to satisfy the expenditure of their energy.” Rondon glanced at each officer in turn. “We officers must understand our extreme vulnerability in the deep wilderness. We depend on these rugged men more than they depend on us.”
Theodore Roosevelt shivered. He could find no objections to anything just said.
Roosevelt woke the next morning to the sounds of the Brazilian forest and not the usual drone of rain pelting his tent’s roof. He crawled from his tent and into the soaking-wet clearing. Roosevelt overheard some clamor near the riverbank and set off to investigate.
A large contingent of camaradas stood overlooking the river which appeared swollen from overnight rains. Colonel Rondon and Lyra stood amongst the chattering men. Roosevelt noticed the largest cargo canoe and another old dugout missing from the bank. Luckily, he surmised, the supplies were all unloaded the night before any anticipated floods.
Paishon approached Colonel Rondon presenting him a two foot shard of shattered canoe. Paishon pointed downstream. Rondon shook his head.
Theodore Roosevelt suddenly felt the urge to search for the faces of Julio and Lieutenant Martin amongst the gathered. He found both men standing together and atop the bank, away from the others.
For the first time since starting this seemingly ill-fated journey, the eternally optimistic Roosevelt had serious doubts that he or Kermit would ever survive this expedition. His thoughts turned abruptly to Edith and his remaining children. God help me, he thought. How fitting after a lifetime dreaming of exploring its many wonders, the Amazon jungle would be my grave.
Theodore Roosevelt retreated to his tent and retrieved his pen, ink, and paper. “March 11, 1914. After nearly two weeks on the Dúvida, our supplies are dwindling and our situation appears desperate. Adding to our woes is almost certain insurrection amongst…”
Roosevelt halted suddenly and rubbed his chin. He dipped his pen to ink and struck-out the last two sentences. Instead, he wrote, “At this camp we had come down the river about 102 kilometers, according to the surveying records, and in height had descended nearly 100 meters, as shown by the aneroid—although the figure in this case is only an approximation, as an aneroid cannot be depended on for absolute accuracy of results.”
CHAPTER 14
Following a dispirited and somewhat paltry breakfast, Colonel Rondon conferred briefly with Roosevelt before gathering all of the camaradas against the backdrop of the overflowing Dúvida River. The wiry Brazilian Colonel paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, his steely eyes set upon the row of downtrodden men as if awaiting the slightest flinch or sign of slackening. Finally, he began in Portuguese, “Beginning this morning we will set ourselves to building a new dugout even larger than the craft we have just lost.” Cherrie translated for Roosevelt who overheard a few grumbles of discontent amongst the men. Rondon continued, “Enough! Such grievances will not be tolerated, and furthermore all insubordination will be dealt with in a corporal manner. I needn’t have to explain the gravity of our circumstances. You all know the dangers we face. If we refuse to move forward together, we will all die alongside this river and be devoured by ants.”
Rondon paused for a moment, seemingly to ensure he had all of the camarada’s undivided attention. “The officers and Mr. Kermit and Cherrie will be tasked to hunt the forest for game. Some of you, when not laboring on the canoe, will be allowed to collect palmito and honey. We will camp in this spot for as long as it takes to complete the dugout. Have I made myself clear?”
“Sim, commander Rondon,” was the general, if not somewhat subdued, response.
“Good, good, we will begin by locating the most suitable tree for the canoe within walking distance of the river. I know you men have all constructed dugouts. Go, Go!” He brushed his hands. “The man finding the widest and most fitting tree will today be offered the lightest duties. Now, off with you!”
The men scattered into the forest just as the rains began anew, a subtle and gentle reminder of their cursed circumstances, Roosevelt figured. Cherrie and Roosevelt both noticed Julio lagging far behind the others. “How lazy can a man become?” Roosevelt said to the wide-eyed naturalist. “George, just how lazy must you be, to not wish to participate in a simple contest that may ultimately allow you to avoid the heaviest tasks?”
The camaradas located three trees to offer as candidates for the canoe. A robust specimen—five feet wide—was selected by Colonel Rondon. Amid the rainfall the men began chopping its massive truck with renewed vigor and purpose. Even Colonel Rondon stripped off his shirt and took his turn with the axe. The middle-aged yet hale commander swung briskly until he could lift his arms no more.
The mighty tree crashed to the ground a few hours later. The men cheered and patted each other on the back.
Kermit and Lieutenant Lyra set off together and away from the river to hunt for game. Following an unsuccessful hour in the woods, they decided that the situation was desperate enough to split apart, despite the new orders to work only in tandem. The results were more than encouraging—Kermit shot and killed two monkeys and Lyra shot a plump Jacu-bird.
The rain tapered off by late afternoon, and by evening, the moon shone brightly in the southern sky. Exhausted following a hard day’s work, the camaradas sat around the campfire waiting impatiently for the monkey-meat that sizzled over the flames a mere yard before them. The cook finally issued his approval and the men dug into the meat like hungry wolves. Roosevelt seethed watching Julio attempt to grab more than his fair share of the meat, but Teddy’s faith in humanity was restored when he noticed Simplicio and a few other camaradas taking Julio to task for his unseemly transgression. It took quick and stern action by Paishon to break up the tense confrontation and to keep the men from a senseless fistfight.
Roosevelt noticed that Lieutenant Martin mostly stayed clear of any disagreements amongst the men. He simply waited until tempers receded and then calmly sauntered up to the fire and tore off a small chunk of meat. The man is a living skeleton, Roosevelt thought. He probably never fully recovered from his years amongst the natives.
The twelfth day of March marked two full weeks on the River of Doubt for the Roosevelt-Rondon Scientific Expedition, although Roosevelt lamented the fact that most of their time was spent bypassing rapids and constructing or repairing the ragged canoes. The weather cleared follow
ing a long day of rain, and the camaradas continued the arduous task of shaping and hollowing-out the massive tree trunk chosen for the new dugout. Roosevelt and Rondon kept a close eye on the laborers while Kermit and Lyra once again set off on a hunt through the lush, green rainforest.
True to his word, Colonel Rondon granted leave to two of his hardest working camaradas, allowing them to comb the forest for the bland-tasting but filling palmito. The men returned late in the morning bearing several stalks of the nutritious plant and a comb of fresh honey. Rondon declared a break from the construction and the men devoured the treat until none remained. Roosevelt noticed a few smiles amongst the men; the first he had noticed in several days.
Kermit and Lyra returned at noon carrying the carcass of a fat curassow-bird. Roosevelt figured the meat a pittance when shared amongst them all, although any protein would be welcome when attempting to supplement their meager rations.
Eager to contribute to the expedition the best he could, Roosevelt asked Kermit to accompany him on a short afternoon hunt. Kermit remained reluctant owing to Teddy’s “little incident” the day before yet finally succumbed to his father’s persistent harassment. With little fanfare, they grabbed their rifles and canteens and set off into the wilderness.
Father and son pushed silently through the dense scrub and up the curved river basin surrounded by trees that towered mightily against the cloudy sky. Roosevelt marveled at the varieties and shapes of vines dangling from the branches high above, some falling like spider webs while others wrapped the great trunks like fanged cobras ready to strike at a moment’s notice. The air was hot and humid beneath the forest’s canopy, while the wind scarcely stirred a solitary leaf or a dangling branch, causing a palpable and uncomfortable stillness that could rattle one’s nerves.
The forest appeared barren of flowers and birds, but the insects—sometimes mosquitoes or biting flies or the ever-present stingless bees—stalked them at every turn and upon every step. Both Teddy and Kermit Roosevelt grew weary of swatting the persistent beasts as much as they did the expedition’s eternal grind.
How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex Page 10