and five reptilian species, on the Pacific
slope, identical with species found on the Napo.

Breakfasting on fried yucas, roasted plantains, fish, and guayusa, we
set sail, arriving at Coca at 2 P.M. This little village, the last we
shall see till we come within sight of the Amazon, is beautifully
located on the right bank, twenty-five feet above the river, and
opposite the confluence of the Rio Coca. Though founded twenty years
ago, it contains only five or six bamboo huts, a government-house,
church, alcalde's residence, and a _trapiche_ for the manufacture of
aguardiente and sirup from the cane.[125] The alcalde was a worthless
blanco, who spent most of his time swinging in a hammock slung between
the posts of his veranda, and playing with a tame parrot when not drunk
or asleep. This spot is memorable in history. Pizarro having reached it
from Quito by way of Baeza and the Coca, halted and built a raft or
canoe (Prescott says a brig), in which Orellana was sent down the river
to reconnoitre, but who never returned. Up to this point the Napo has an
easterly course; but after receiving the Coca, it turns to the
southeast. We remained here two days to construct a more comfortable
craft for our voyage to the Amazon, a distance of at least five hundred
miles. The canoe is the only means of navigation known to the Indians.
But the idea of spending fifteen days cooped, cribbed, and cramped in a
narrow canoe, exposed to a tropical sun and furious rains, was
intolerable.

[Illustration: Trapiche.]

[Footnote 125: The _trapiche_ or sugar-mill of the Andes is a rude
affair. The cane is pressed between cogged wooden cylinders worked by
bullocks, and the juice is received in troughs made of hollowed logs.]

Our Santa Rosa canoes were about thirty feet long. These were placed
about five feet apart and parallel, and then firmly secured by bamboo
joists. Over these we spread a flooring of split bamboo, and planted
four stout chonta sticks to support a palm-thatched roof. A rudder (a
novel idea to our red-skinned companions), and a box of sand in the
stern of one of the boats for a fire-place, completed our rig. The
alcalde, with a hiccough, declared we would be forever going down the
river in such a huge craft, and the Indians smiled ominously. But when
our gallant ship left Coca obediently to the helm, and at the rate of
six miles an hour when paddles and current worked together, they shouted
"_bueno_!" Our trunks and provisio