Sousa was a guest at this meagre but greatly-appreciated evening feast. Afterwards, Roger drew him aside and said, 'Senhor, I have very urgent business in Rio which has already been too long delayed. At the moment the wind is not favourable to ships heading south; so, if you could sell me horses and a guide, I'd reach the city more swiftly by taking the coast road. How say you?'
The Portuguese hesitated. ‘I could fulfil your needs; but there are certain risks. The road is rough, and you might encounter hostile Indians.'
'I'll take that risk,' Roger replied, 'so, when you go ashore, I will go with you.'
He then wrote a brief note to Lisala, which read: My love, do not be worried by my leaving the ship. I'll see you in Rio. Going below, he pushed it under her cabin door. An hour later, Sousa climbed down the rope ladder to his ketch. To the surprise of those who were seeing the Portuguese off, Roger followed him. Laughing up at them as he descended, he said:
'I've stolen a march on you. Senhor Sousa has invited me to spend the night in his house; so I will be the first to see something of our new country.' A little envious, but admiring his initiative, they waved him away.
Sousa lived in a long, low, wooden building which was also his store, where he bartered gaudy trinkets with the Indians in exchange for rare woods, alligator skins and other commodities. When they reached it, one of the half-castes was called in and, over drinking horns of mate—which Roger found similar to rather nasty tea—a bargain was struck. For two of his pieces of gold the half-caste and an Indian would convey him to Rio.
Soon after dawn the next morning they set out, the Indian riding a hundred yards ahead, to warn them of danger, and the half-caste with a lead mule loaded with a bivouac and provisions.
The road was no more than a track and, for the greater part of the way, ran through dense jungle. The trees were taller than any Roger had ever seen. Looped from their branches hung gigantic creepers; huge ferns and smaller trees bearing strange fruit grew so thickly in between that the sides of the track formed impenetrable walls of greenery. For long stretches the trees met overhead so that, in spite of the blazing sun above, the way was lit only by a mysterious twilight. The air was humid and, in spite of the shade, it soon became intensely hot.
Occasionally they forded shallow streams and after a while Roger suggested they should strip at one of them and refresh themselves with a dip. But his companion would not let him because, in addition to danger from alligators, there lived in them swarms of tiny piranha fish that would attack a man and tear every shred of flesh from his bones in a matter of minutes.
The silence, broken only now and then by the calling of a bird or rustic made by an animal in the undergrowth, was most oppressive. Once they saw a jaguar crouched on the branch of a tree; but the half-caste scared it off with a shot from his musket. From other trees twenty-foot-long pythons hung lazily, head down, and to pass them they put their horses into a gallop.
Strings of orchids dangled from roots in the forks of many of the trees; bright-plumaged macaws flapped squawking across the track; and huge butterflies flitted from bush to bush. But Roger, dripping with sweat as though he were in a Turkish bath, constantly tormented by mosquitoes and saddle-sore from moisture trickling down between his legs, was suffering far too much discomfort to enjoy these beauties of nature.
They halted to feed and bivouac on the edge of Indian villages in which the natives were semi-civilised and friendly.
Late in the afternoon of the second day, to Roger's intense relief, they rode into the outskirts of Rio. It was the 23rd January 1808, eight weeks to the day since he had, unexpectedly and most unwillingly, left Lisbon. Never in all his hazardous life had he experienced such prolonged misery. Owing to seasickness and lack of good food during the long voyage, he had lost both weight and vigour; his two-day ride had resulted in his face becoming swollen with insect bites, and he was suffering from sunburn on his hands and neck. But now, at last, he could hope for better times and a resumption of the delights that Lisala was so eager to give him.
His first impression of Rio was its staggering beauty. The broad estuary on the inner side of which it lay was so long that its discoverer, Andre Goncalves, sailing up it on the first day of the year 1502, had christened it the River of January.
The cloudless azure sky, reflected in the waters of its many bays, made them a heavenly blue. Slopes covered with the bright green of palms and other tropical vegetation rose from them. In places spurs of high land ran right down to the sea. The spurs led up to a panorama of lofty hills, beyond which were range after range of mountains, lavender-hued as they faded into the far distance.
But as they advanced into the city itself, Roger's elation at the sight of this beautiful setting swiftly evaporated. He had expected it to resemble a second-rate town in Spain or Portugal, with straggling suburbs of poor dwellings; but, as the capital of one of the greatest colonies in the world, to have a broad main street, a spacious, tree-shaded square and a few fine buildings in the centre. It had none of these things.
The only square, which gave on to a stony beach littered with wreckage and refuse, was of bare, hard-trodden earth, with not a tree upon it. The principal street was mean and narrow. The only building of any size was the Viceroy's Palace, a low, ugly block from which the white paint was peeling and with narrow, dirty windows. Near it was the Telles Arch, an evil-smelling passageway, in which a score of scrofulous beggars were lounging. The other streets leading from it were even meaner and no more than alleyways between rows of high houses with greenish balconies and steep grey roofs. The only drainage consisted of gutters, cleansed from time to time by downpours of tropical rain; but, as the weather had been fine for the past week or so, they were now choked with garbage and excrement thrown out of the windows. The stench beggared description.
Roger's guide took him to the only inn. It was run by a Frenchman named Philippe, a robust and cheerful individual, who gave him a hearty welcome and showed him up to a passably well-furnished room. Already Roger had noted that the cafe on the ground floor was clean and bright, and was deeply thankful for having been brought to this little oasis of civilised living in a town of such unbelievable poverty and squalor.
Having thanked his guide and sent him and the Indian off with handsome pourboires, Roger ordered hot water to be brought up, so that he could have a most welcome bath, and sent for a barber to shave him. During the voyage he had grown a full beard. Now he had it shaved off, but retained his side-whiskers. It was weeks since he had looked in a mirror. On doing so it suddenly struck him that the reddish tint with which he had dyed his hair in Lisbon had grown out. But no-one aboard the Nunez appeared to have noticed that.
He then sought out the landlord, ordered the best bottle of wine available, and invited him to share it. Nothing loath, Philippe produced a dust-encrusted bottle of Madeira and took his guest into his own small parlour. When they had settled down, Roger asked:
'Would you like to make a large sum of money?'
'But naturally.' The Frenchman spread out his hands and grinned. 'Providing, Senhor, that it is within the law. Even a week in the prison here is as good as a death sentence. Each newcomer picks up from some other prisoner typhus, smallpox or cholera, and the poor devils die like flies.'