Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart Pasha — John Shaqi
Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart PashaHobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
History
Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart Pasha
Hobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
Adventure and adventurers; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Blockades
We got on board all right, but such a terrible row was made about the
affair that the ship to which A. belonged had to go to sea the next day,
and did not appear again at Rio de Janeiro.
I, though not belonging to that vessel, was not allowed to land for many
months.
CHAPTER IV.
RIO DE JANEIRO.
One word about Rio de Janeiro. Rio, as it is generally called, is
perhaps one of the most lovely spots in the world. The beautiful natural
bay and harbour are unequalled throughout the whole universe. Still,
like the Bosphorus, the finest effect is made by Rio de Janeiro when
looked at from the water. In the days of which I write yellow fever was
unknown; now that fearful disease kills its thousands, aye, tens of
thousands, yearly. The climate, though hot at times, is very good; in
the summer the mornings are hot to a frying heat, but the sea breeze
comes in regularly as clockwork, and when it blows everything is cool
and nice. Life is indeed a lazy existence; there is no outdoor amusement
of any kind to be had in the neighbourhood. As to shooting, there are
only a few snipe to be found here and there, and while looking for these
you must beware of snakes and other venomous reptiles, which abound
both in the country and in town. I remember a terrible fright a large
picnic party, at which I assisted, was thrown into while lunching in the
garden of a villa, almost in the town of Rio, by a lady jumping up from
her seat with a deadly whip-snake hanging on her dress. I once myself
sat on an adder who put his fangs through the woollen stuff of my
inexpressibles and could not escape. The same thing happened with the
lady's dress; in that case also we caught the snake, as it could not
disentangle its fangs.
In the country near Rio there are great snakes called the anaconda, a
sort of boa-constrictor on a large scale. Once, while walking in the
woods with some friends, we found a little Indian boy dead on the
ground, one of these big snakes lying within a foot or so of him, also
dead; the snake had a poisoned arrow in his brain, which evidently had
been shot at him by the poor little boy, whose blow-pipe was lying by
his side. The snake must have struck the boy before it died, as we found
a wound on the boy's neck. This reptile measured twenty-two feet in
length.
By the way, a well-known author, Mrs. B----, tells a marvellous story
about these snakes. She says that they always go in pairs, have great
affection for each other, and are prepared on all occasions to resent
affronts offered to either of them. She narrates that a peasant once
killed a big anaconda, and that the other, or chum snake, followed the
man several miles to the house where he had taken the dead one, got in
by the window, and crushed the destroyer of his friend to death. I
expect that some salt is necessary to swallow this tale, but such is the
statement Mrs. B---- makes.
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