In Hostile Territory, Part 2 - The Scramble for the Amazon and the Lost Paradise of Euclides da Cunha - page 263

On arrival that evening at the headwaters of the Cavaljani, I thought the enterprise was lost. The
way words were spoken, the irreparable despair, the sarcastic side comments let me know that the
nextdaytherewasonlyonemovement,thevertiginousreturn,rollingtothestraitsandwaterfallsthat
had been so taxing to overcome, ending our efforts in retreat.
The next morning I sought them out, bent on the impossible task of convincing them to make yet
one more sacrifice. They were huddled in a circle around a dying campfire and received me without
rising, with the impunity of their misfortune. Two of them trembled with fever. I spoke to them:
Honor. Obligation. The Fatherland and other magnificent words, resounding stentoriously, monoton-
ously, uselessly.
They remained impassive.
I silenced myself in an exasperated sadness. And as if to increase my misery, I noted exactly there,
crossing on the right, were the Peruvians, who were readying themselves for departure. We broke
camp and took the gear back to the canoes. Soon the oars and the tanganas —long canoes raised by
the rowers—briskly harpooned the air.
And crossing past the groups, the Peruvian sergeant, with a grave and solemn step, cut perpendic-
ularly across the beach in the path of the leading canoe as though he were in a public plaza in front of
a formation. Taking his right arm, he unrolled the Peruvian flag, which should have been raised at the
moment of embarkation, but which my arrival had hastened.
A stiff southeasterner blew. The lovely cloth of red and white quickly extended itself, ruffling in
the wind.
And it occurred to me to point out the contrast to my beaten-down comrades. But on my return,
I didn't recognize them. All were standing at attention. The simple image of a foreign standard tri-
umphantlyraisedlikeachallengegalvanizedthem.Inonerush,withoutanyorders,theywerealready
preparedfordeparture.Insecondsourflag,whichhadbeenrolledupontheground,wasnowvertical
in its turn in one of the canoes, proclaiming itself in front of our eyes.
The divine promises of hope! . . . 2
Figure 17.6. The Peruvian Commission unfurling its flag at a varadouro .
. . .
It is certain that we would not have been able to move forward to the varadouros with our motley
fleet, which had arrived at that point only through unrelenting toil, if an unforeseen circumstance had
not favored us. Shortly after the arrival of the Peruvian Commission, which had two hours' advant-
age on us, the mail boats appeared from Iquitos—four small ubás , lightly modeled, which could be
dragged through the varadouros . Sr. Pedro Buenaño resolved to requisition them, judging that his
own ubás were inadequate for the shallow waters of the Cavaljani. The mail would wait at that point,