On the morning of the 24th the sun rose bright and clear in a cloudless sky, compensating with its splendor the discomforts of the night; its reflected light glancing upon the waters discovered far to the south a broad ripple, indicating the sought-for channel. The river’s stream was soon gained, and followed in a southwesterly course until the river’s limits were defined by partially submerged trees growing upon its banks. Having at Santa Anna filled every available portion of the vessel with fuel, sufficient for a run of four days, the boat was enabled to keep on her course under a full head of steam, without anxiety from the dull prospect offered for replenishing.
May 25th, at sunrise, after a good night’s run, we discovered a headland above the surface of the water covered with fire-scathed trees, from which the captain, for a surety, concluded to add to his diminished supply of fuel. The labor of taking in wood from this source was by no means pleasant, but the sailors with good-will made the “virtue of necessity” cheerful with songs and jokes, the “passengers,” suitably clothed, contributing with the zest of energy their labor for its stowage, so that by eight o’clock we were again under way. With the exception of this wooded bluff nothing but sky, water, and foliage had met our eyes since leaving Santa Anna, the monotonous compound making us well content with cabin associations.
On the 28th at sunrise, our ears were gladdened with the cry of “Land ho!” Rushing on deck, with the expectation of a greeting from well defined banks, we were disappointed, as the contrasted elements of the previous day still prevailed. Seeing that we were a little inclined to be vexed, at what we considered to be an ill-timed joke, the man at the wheel, an old river navigator, pointed to a mud bank that closed our view with the bend of the river, at the same time directing our attention to the eddy cast from it far out toward a line of trees on the opposite shore. From these indications he assured us that in a half hour’s time we should hear the songs of birds to make us lively. Doubling the muddy cape we were greeted with the screams of parrots, while other birds of gay plumage were crossing and recrossing the river singly and in flocks, causing, in apparent salutation, a lively line of demarcation between the land enclosed current and the smooth waters of the flood below. The welcome sight raised our spirits into a sympathetic mood of song, which was unfortunately too nearly allied to the screaming discord of the parrots to evoke other than a mirthful disposition for repartee which expended itself in humorous comparisons, favoring the advent of genial omens.