On awaking at sunrise the next morning, we found ourselves
gliding upwards with the tide, along the Bahia or Bay, as it is
called, of Goajara. This is a broad channel lying between the
mainland and a line of islands which extends some distance beyond
the city. Into it three large rivers discharge their waters,
namely, the Guama, the Acara, and the Moju-- so that it forms a
kind of sub-estuary within the grand estuary of Para. It is
nearly four miles broad. The left bank, along which we were now
sailing, was beautiful in the extreme; not an inch of soil was to
be seen; the water frontage presented a compact wall of rich and
varied forest, resting on the surface of the stream. It seemed to
form a finished border to the water scene, where the dome-like,
rounded shapes of exogenous trees which constituted the mass
formed the groundwork, and the endless diversity of broad-leaved
Heliconiae and Palms--each kind differing in stem, crown, and
fronds--the rich embroidery. The morning was calm and cloudless;
and the slanting beams of the early sun, striking full on the
front of the forest, lighted up the whole most gloriously. The
only sound of life which reached us was the call of the Serracura
(Gallinula Cayennensis), a kind of wild-fowl; all else was so
still that the voices of boatmen could be plainly heard from
canoes passing a mile or two distant from us. The sun soon gains
great power on the water, but with it the sea-breeze increases in
strength, moderating the heat which would otherwise be almost
insupportable. We reached the end of the Goajara about midday,
and then entered the narrower channel of the Moju. Up this we
travelled, partly rowing and partly sailing between the same
unbroken walls of forest, until the morning of the 28th.