The visitor to Rockstone is sure to see some open boats tied up to the landing-stage. On first making the acquaintance of these rough-looking little craft, he imagines they are merely for the use of men who want to go a-fishing for a few hours, or for anyone who has to make short river-trips. On going down to the landing-stage a few hours later--if he is in this part of the world during the early months of the year--he is surprised to find that some of those old tubs have been transformed into tent-boats, that the space beneath each awning is crowded with stacks of small cargo, such as packing-cases, hammocks, pots and pans, and that round and above the piled-up goods and chattels stretch long lengths of string laden with calabashes. He is still more surprised when he learns that a large party of balata-bleeders is about to set forth in these boats on a two, three, or four weeks’ journey. Not an inch of accommodation does there seem to be left for passengers; yet several men manage to squeeze into each boat. They pass long day after long day in their cramped quarters, smoking, gossiping, dozing, and taking their turn at the paddles. At night they go ashore, and camp in the forest; they light a fire, have a picnic, sling their hammocks, and turn into sleep until daylight makes it possible for them to get a little farther on their way to work. On days when they have to navigate one set of rapids after another, and drag the boat overland past fall after fall, it is but a very little farther they are able to push forward. The labourers who leave Rockstone by launch find little boats waiting for them when they reach the camp that is situated at the terminus of civilized travelling facilities in the wilds. They then have to rough it for the rest of their journey. [Illustration: BALATA BLEEDERS LEAVING SPROSTONS’ STELLING AT ROCKSTONE, BRITISH GUIANA. _Page 46_ Note large number of calabashes for catching the gum] On one of the riverways which leads to many grants, there is no steamer or launch to help the labourers on their way. The work of paddling the boats along this route is made specially hard by masses of grass, which drift down from the Savannahs. A way has to be hacked through the floating barriers with cutlasses. You can imagine what a difficult task this is when I tell you that the grass on the water is sometimes so firm that people can walk on it.