slaves. The institution dates from 1722. At that period anti-slavery
ideas had entered the minds of a few philanthropists, and more than a
century had to elapse before the mass of the people grasped and
applied them. That freedom was a right, that the very first of the
natural rights of man was to be free and to belong only to himself,
would seem to be self-evident, and yet thousands of years had to pass
before the glorious thought was generally accepted, and the nations
of the earth had the courage to proclaim it.
In 1852, the year in which our story opens, there were still slaves
in Brazil, and as a natural consequence, captains of the woods to
pursue them. For certain reasons of political economy the hour of
general emancipation had been delayed, but the black had at this date
the right to ransom himself, the children which were born to him were
born free. The day was not far distant when the magnificent country,
into which could be put three-quarters of the continent of Europe,
would no longer count a single slave among its ten millions of
inhabitants.
The occupation of the captains of the woods was doomed, and at the
period we speak of the advantages obtainable from the capture of
fugitives were rapidly diminishing. While, however, the calling
continued sufficiently profitable, the captains of the woods formed a
peculiar class of adventurers, principally composed of freedmen and
deserters–of not very enviable reputation. The slave hunters in fact
belonged to the dregs of society, and we shall not be far wrong in
assuming that the man with the cryptogram was a fitting comrade for
his fellow _”capitaes do mato.”_ Torres–for that was his
name–unlike the majority of his companions, was neither half-breed,
Indian, nor negro. He was a white of Brazilian origin, and had
received a better education than befitted his present condition. One
of those unclassed men who are found so frequently in the distant
countries of the New World, at a time when the Brazilian law still
excluded mulattoes and others of mixed blood from certain
employments, it was evident that if such exclusion had affected him,
it had done so on account of his worthless character, and not because
of his birth.
Torres at the present moment was not, however, in Brazil. He had just
passed the frontier, and was wandering in the forests of Peru, from
which issue the waters of the Upper Amazon.
He was a man of about thirty years of age, on whom the fatigues of a
precarious existence seemed, thanks to an exceptional temperament and
an iron constitution, to have had no effect. Of middle height, broad
shoulders, regular features, and decided gait, his face was tanned
with the scorching air of the tropics. He had a thick black beard,
and eyes lost under contracting eyebrows, giving that swift but hard
glance so characteristic of insolent natures. Clothed as backwoodsmen
are generally clothed, not over elaborately, his garments bore
witness to long and roughish wear. On his head, stuck jauntily on one
side, was a leather hat with a large brim. Trousers he had of coarse
wool, which were tucked into the tops of the thick, heavy boots which
formed the most substantial part of his attire, and over all, and
hiding all, was a faded yellowish poncho.
But if Torres was a captain of the woods it was evident that he was
not now employed in that capacity, his means of attack and defense
being obviously insufficient for any one engaged in the pursuit of
the blacks. No firearms–neither gun nor revolver. In his belt only
one of those weapons, more sword than hunting-knife, called a
_”manchetta,”_ and in addition he had an _”enchada,”_ which is a sort
of hoe, specially employed in the pursuit of the tatous and agoutis
which abound in the forests of the Upper Amazon, where there is
generally little to fear from wild beasts.
On the 4th of May, 1852, it happened, then, that our adventurer was
deeply absorbed in the reading of the document on which his eyes were
fixed, and, accustomed as he was to live in the forests of South