The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expeditionRoutledge, Katherine
History
The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expedition
Routledge, Katherine
Easter Island; Oceania -- Description and travel; Voyages and travels
The Brazilians of Rio appear to have more European blood than those who
live further north, though a mixture of Indian or Negro is viewed with
the same equanimity. The idea of government is democratic, and in theory
at any rate the President will give an audience to the humblest
Brazilian. The senators are paid £7 a day while sitting, so that an easy
way of defraying debt is to prolong the session. The Central Railway
belongs to the Government, and is regarded as giving billets for its
supporters: engine-drivers, for example, are paid at a rate of from £700
per annum, the consequent large deficit on the working of the line being
made good by the Treasury. There had been no political excitement very
recently at Rio, but one old man was pointed out to us who, as governor
of a northern state, had held his position by force and fraud until
about a year previously, when he had been escorted by armed men on board
ship and told that if he returned he would be shot.
We left Rio Harbour at daybreak on Wednesday, July 23rd, after a visit
of nine days, and to our relief found a good sailing breeze outside. As
Buenos Aires, at which we were bound to call for stores and letters, was
still some 1,100 miles distant, it was decided to break the voyage, and
the Sailing Directions were studied for some out-of-the-way
stopping-place _en route_. We had found by experience that little
anchorages were preferable: not only was there more confidence in the
water supply than in the case of big towns, but there was no trouble
with authorities, and bills of health, and the temptations of a big port
were avoided. The smaller places also, if in some ways less interesting,
were more attractive. The little bay of Porto Bello was selected, but
when its neighbourhood was reached the following Sunday the weather had
become rather thick and there was some difficulty in finding our way. At
tea-time our Navigator came down somewhat amused to tell us that, during
our afternoon siestas, _Mana_ had wandered in and out of a wrong bay,
about twenty miles north of our destination; a small steamer in front of
us had also obviously been in need of a signpost or kind policeman.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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