Above the Anaveni river, between the Uniana and Sipapu mountains, you reach the Mapara and Quituna cataracts, commonly called by missionaries the Raudales. These natural weirs crossing from one side to the other offer the same picture: one of the greatest rivers in the world breaks into foam among many islands, rocky dykes and piles of granite blocks covered in palms. (102)

In Esmeralda, as in all missions, the Indians who refuse to be baptized but who live in the villages have remained polygamous. The number of wives differs according to the tribe; those who have most are the Caribs and those tribes that still carry young girls off from enemy tribes. Women live as slaves. As men exert absolute authority no women dare to complain in their presence. In the homes an apparent peace reigns, and the women vie to anticipate the whims of their demanding and bad-tempered master. They look after children, whether their own or another's. Missionaries say that this peace, the result of collective fear, breaks down when the master is away for a long time. The squabbling does not end until he returns and silences them just with the sound of his voice, or with a simple gesture, or by some other more violent means. As these unhappy women do all the work, it is not strange that in some tribes there are few women. Then you find a sort of polyandry. With the Avanos and Maypures several brothers share one wife. When an Indian with several wives becomes a Christian the missionaries force him to choose the one he wants to keep and to reject the others. The moment of separation is critical: the new convert finds that each wife has some special quality: one knows about plants, another how to make chicha, the drink made from cassava root. Sometimes an Indian would rather keep his wives than become a Christian; but usually the man lets the missionary choose for him, as part of his fate.

Of all body complaints those that persist without change are the worst; against them the only cure is patience. It is likely that the emanations of the Casiquiare jungle infected Bonpland with such a serious disease that he almost died when we reached Angostura. Luckily neither he nor I suspected this at the time. The view of the river and the hum of insects became monotonous; but our natural good temper did not snap, and helped us survive this long journey. We discovered that eating small bits of dry cacao ground without sugar and drinking a lot of river water appeased our hunger for several hours. Ants and mosquitoes annoyed us more than hunger and humidity.

At dawn on the 16th of July 1799 we saw the green, picturesque coast. The mountains of Nueva Andalucia, hidden in clouds, bordered the horizon. The city of Cumana, with its fort, stood in coconut groves. At nine in the morning, after forty-one days at sea, we anchored in the harbor. The sick crawled on deck to comfort themselves with the vision of a land where they hoped they would be cured.