We set off before sunrise, at five in the morning, with the slaves carrying our instruments. Our party consisted of eighteen people, and we advanced in Indian file along a narrow path on a steep grassy slope. From La Puerta the path becomes steep. You have to lean forward to climb. The thick grass was very slippery because of the prolonged drought. Cramp-irons and iron-tipped sticks would have been very useful. Short grass covers the gneiss rocks; it is impossible to grip it or dig steps into it as in softer soil. More tiring than dangerous, the climb soon disheartened the men accompanying us who were not used to mountain climbing. We wasted a lot of time waiting for them, and did not decide to continue alone until we saw them returning down the mountain instead of climbing up after us. Bonpland and I foresaw that we would soon be covered in thick fog. Fearing that our guides would use the fog to abandon us we made those carrying the instruments go ahead of us. The familiar chatting of the negroes contrasted with the taciturn seriousness of the Indians who had accompanied us up to then. They joked about those who had spent hours preparing for the ascent, and then abandoned it straightaway.

Among the Indians gathered at Pararuma we found some whites who had come from Angostura to buy turtle butter. After wearying us with their complaints about the 'poor harvest' and about the harm done by the jaguars as the turtles laid their eggs, they led us under an ajupa raised in the middle of the Indian camp. There we found the missionary monks from Carichana and the cataracts sitting on the ground playing cards and smoking tobacco in long pipes. These poor priests received us in a very friendly manner. They had been suffering from tertiary fever for months. Pale and emaciated, they had no trouble convincing us that the countries we were about to visit were dangerous for our health.

The passage from the mouth of the Río Negro to Grand Para took only twenty to twenty-five days, so we could have gone down the Amazon as far as the Brazilian coast just as easily as returning by the Casiquiare to Caracas. We were told at San Carlos that political circumstances made it difficult to cross from Spanish to Portuguese colonies, but we did not know until our return to Europe what danger we would have been exposed to had we gone as far as Barcellos. It was known in Brazil, probably through newspapers, whose indiscretion is not helpful for travelers, that I was going to visit the Río Negro missions and examine the natural canal uniting the two river systems. In these deserted jungles the only instruments ever seen had been carried by the boundary commissioners. The Portuguese Government agents could not conceive how a sensible man could exhaust himself 'measuring lands that did not belong to him'. Orders had been issued to arrest me, seize my instruments, and especially my astronomical observations, so dangerous to the safety of the State. We were to be led along the Amazon to Grand Para, and then back to Lisbon. Fortunately, the Lisbon Government instantly ordered that I should not be disturbed but rather encouraged.

Batabanò was then a poor village, and its church had only just been finished. The ciénega begins about half a league from the village, a marsh stretching about 60 leagues from west to east. At Batabanò it is thought that the sea is encroaching on the land. Nothing is sadder than these marshes. Not even a shrub breaks the monotony; a few stunted palm trees rise like broken masts among tufts of reeds. As we stayed only one night there I regretted not being able to investigate the two species of crocodile, or cocodrilo, infesting the ciénaga. One the locals call a cayman. The crocodile is said to be very daring, and even climbs into boats when it can. It often wanders a league inland just to devour pigs. It reaches some feet long, and even chases (so they say) men on horseback, while the caymans are so shy that people can bathe in the water when they are around.

We landed on the right bank of the Neveri and climbed to the little fort of El Morro de Barcelona, built some 60 to 70 toises above sea-level. We remained five hours in this fort guarded by the provincial militia. We waited in vain for news about English pirates stationed along the coast. Two of our fellow travelers, brothers of the Marquis of Toro in Caracas, came from Spain. They were highly cultivated men returning home after years abroad. They had more reason to fear being captured and taken as prisoners to Jamaica. I had no passport from the Admiralty, but I felt safe in the protection given by the English Government to those who travel for the progress of science.

The mail-boats (correos) that cross from La Coruìa to Havana and Mexico had been due for over three months. It was thought they had been attacked by English ships near by. I was in a hurry to reach Cumanà and cross to Veracruz so on the 26th of August I hired an open boat called a lancha. This lancha smuggled cocoa to the island of Trinidad, so its owner was not afraid of the enemy ships blockading the Spanish ports. We loaded our plants, instruments and monkeys and hoped that it would be but a short journey from the mouth of the Neveri river to Cumanà. But no sooner were we in the narrow canal that separates the mainland from the rocky islands of Borracha and Chimanas than we bumped into an armed ship, which ordered us to stop, and fired a round at us from far off. The boat belonged to a pirate from Halifax. By his accent and build I recognized a Prussian from Memel among his crew. Since I had been in America I had not once spoken my mother tongue, and would have preferred a more peaceful opportunity to do so. But my protests were to no avail, and we were led aboard the pirate ship. They ignored the passports issued by the governor of Trinidad allowing cocoa smuggling, and considered us a lawful prize. As I spoke English fairly well I was, able to bargain with the captain, and stopped him from taking us to Nova Scotia by persuading him to put us ashore on the nearest Coast. While I was arguing about our rights in the' cabin I heard a noise on deck. A sailor rushed in and whispered something to the captain, who left quite upset. Luckily for us an English warship (the Hawk) was also passing by. It had signaled the pirate boat, but on receiving no answer had shot a round of artillery and sent a midshipman aboard. He was a polite young man who led me to hope that our lancha with its cocoa would be released. He invited me to accompany him, assuring me that Captain John Gamier of the Royal Navy could offer better accommodation than the ship from Halifax.