Our interpreters could give us no details about the age of these baskets and vessels. However, the majority of the skeletons did not seem to be more than a hundred years old. Among the Guareca Indians there is a legend that the brave Atures, chased by the cannibalistic Caribs, hid in the cataract rocks, where they died out, leaving no trace of their language. The last survivor of the Atures could not have lasted much longer, for at Maypures you can still see an old parrot that 'nobody understands because', so the Indians say, 'it speaks the language of the Atures'.

Despite the small size of our boat, and the boasted skill of our pilot, we often ran aground. The bottom was soft so there was no danger of sinking. At sunset we preferred to lie at anchor. The first night was beautifully serene, with countless shooting stars all falling in the same direction. This area is completely deserted, while in Columbus's time it was inhabited by great numbers of fishermen. These Cuban inhabitants used a small fish to catch the great sea-turtles. They tied this fish to a long cord of the revés (the Spanish name for the echeneis). This 'fisher-fish' fixed itself on the shell of the turtle by means of its suckers. The Indians pulled both sucker fish and turtle ashore. It took three days to pass through this labyrinth of Jardines and Jardinillos. As we moved east the sea got rougher.

The araguato of the Caripe region is a new species of the genus Stentor that I named Simia ursina. I prefer this name to the one referring to its colour. Its eyes, voice and gait make it appear sad. I have seen young araguatoes brought up in Indian huts. They never play like the little sagoins. Their seriousness was described naively by Lopez de Gomara at the start of the sixteenth century: 'The aranata of the Cumaneses has the face of a man, the beard of a goat, and a serious bearing, honrado gesto. The closer they resemble man the sadder monkeys look.

It is difficult to give an idea of the dreadful noise made by thousands of these birds in the darkness of the cave. It cannot be compared to the noise of those crows who live together in nests in our northern pine forests. The guàcharo's piercing scream reverberates against the rocky vault and echoes in the depths of the cave. The Indians showed us their nests by tying torches on to long poles. They were some 50 to 60 feet above us in holes riddling the ceiling in the form of funnels. The further we penetrated into the cave with our copal torches the more the frightened birds screamed. If for a few moments the din around us quietened we heard the plaintive cry of other nesting birds in other parts of the cave. It was as if differing groups answered each other alternatively.

We spent the night on a dry, wide beach. The night was silent and calm and the moon shone marvelously. The crocodiles lay on the beach so that they could see our fire. We thought that maybe the glow of the fire attracted them, as it did fish, crayfish and other water creatures. The Indians showed us tracks in the sand from three jaguars, two of them young; doubtless a female with cubs come to drink water. Finding no trees on the beach we stuck our oars in the sand and hung our hammocks. All was peaceful until about eleven when a dreadful noise began in the jungle around us that made sleep impossible. Among the many noises of screeching animals the Indians could recognize only those that were heard separately; the fluted notes of the apajous, the sighs of the abuate apes, the roar of the jaguar and puma; the calls of the pecarry, sloth, hocco, parraka and other gallinaceous birds. When the jaguars approached the edge of the jungle our dog, who up to then had been barking continuously, began to growl and hid under our hammocks. Sometimes, after a long silence, we again heard the tiger's roar from the tops of trees, and then the din of monkeys' whistles as they fled from danger.

In this same jungle we at last were able to solve the problem of the supposed fossil rubber that the Indians call dapicho. The old Indian captain Javita led us to a small stream that runs into the Tuamini. He showed us how to dig some 2 to 3 feet deep into the muddy ground between the roots of two trees: the jacio and the curvana. The first is the hevea or siphonia of modern botany, which yields rubber; the second has pinnate leaves; its juice is milky but very diluted and barely sticky. It appears that dapicho is formed when the latex oozes out from the roots, especially when the tree is very old and begins to decay inside its trunk. The bark and sapwood crack to achieve naturally what man himself must do to gather latex.

The fresh north-east wind blew us at full sail towards the boca de la tortuga. At eleven in the morning we landed on an island, which the Indians of the Uruana mission regard as their own, situated in the middle of the river. This island is famous for the fishing of turtles or, as is said here, the cosecha, or annual harvest of eggs. We found a group of Indians camping in palm-leaf huts. This camp-site had over 300 people in it. As we had been used, since San Fernando de Apure, to seeing only deserted beaches, we were struck by the bustle. Apart from Guamos and Otomacs, seen as two wild and untamed tribes, there were Caribs and other Indians from the Lower Orinoco. Each tribe camped separately, and could be recognized only by the different paints on their skins. We also found, among this noisy reunion, some white men, mainly pulperos, the small traders from Angostura, who had come upstream to buy turtle-egg oil from the Indians. The Uruana missionary, from Alcalà de Henares, came to meet us, extremely surprised to see us there. After inspecting our instruments, he exaggeratedly described the hardships we would suffer going further upstream beyond the cataracts. The purpose of our journey seemed very mysterious to him. 'How is anyone to believe, he said, 'that you left your homeland to come up this river to be eaten by mosquitoes and measure lands that do not belong to you? Luckily we were armed with recommendations from the guardian father of the Franciscan missions, while the brother-in-law of the Barinas governor accompanying us soon resolved the doubts that the whites there had about our dress, accent and arrival on the island. The missionary invited us to share a frugal meal of bananas and fish with him. He told us he had come to camp with the Indians during the harvesting of the eggs 'to celebrate open-air mass every day, to get oil for the lights in his church, and above all to govern this Republica de Indios y Castellanos where individuals wanted to profit selfishly with what God had given to everybody'.