77. Down the Amazon

77.

Down the Amazon:

Today we depart.

The boat is a seventy-foot, Diesel-powered, steel craft with two decks and steerage below—not new, but sturdy.

I go aboard the boat early in the morning but there is no rush. Humans in the tropics pace themselves to stay cool.

When I come aboard I ask for the captain and am told in an echo from Melville: “He’s above in his cabin and he’s as black as thou art white.”

From this captain I buy a second-class ticket to Iquitos for US $8.

There are three other gringo passengers and about forty Peruvian passengers making the voyage with me. The other gringos are a handsome blond couple from Canada and a young German man. The Canadians are energetic, rich young tourists and the German is broke and hustling a long way from home.

The German comes aboard accompanied by a very homely Peruvian girl. He leaves his backpack and goes ashore with the girl and his bedroll for an hour of sex. He tells me later that she pays him for the service and that is how he earns his passage as a second-class passenger but that girl is so ugly I doubt if it was worth it.

The German is not feeling well. He retires into the steerage below decks and ties up his cheap plastic hammock. The next time I see him the whites of his eyes are banana yellow—hepatitis!

I speak to the captain about it, but he makes no move.

In the dark hole where the German lies helpless the natives have started to steal his few belongings—first his pocketknife, then his spoon and eating bowl, then his clothes. Good grief! Never get helpless when you travel second class on the Amazon! When I bring him a bowl of the rice-slop that is dinner for we second-class passengers, he offers to be my partner. He suggests we buy a small boat in Iquitos and float the rest of the way down the river to Belem and the Atlantic, a mere 2,500 miles, then we will sell the boat for a fat profit! Good grief!

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