Evening Star Newspaper, February 23, 1930, Page 98

ry # sfectly true, but its publication under the cir- THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, FEBRUARY 23, 1930. Jungle Flight From a Devil’s Paradise Hozw an American Doctor With an Indian Baby in His Arms Escaped the Murderous Revenge of the Peruvian Rubber Hunters. Five Hundred Miles in a Canoe—New Evidence of Putumayo Horrors. EDITOR’S NOTE: Dr. Dickey here concludes his remarkable series of articles on his adventures in South America. In his last article he told of the -appalling atrocities committed in the Putumayo district where the rubber hunters were ex- ploiting the native Indians. The exposures made by Sir Roger Case- ment brought om a temporary re- form, and Dr. Dickey returned to " the rubber company’s plant as the official doctor. BY HERBERT SPENCER DICKEY, M.D., AND HAWTHORNE DANIEL. —y HE new manager, Meave, went mad with the lust for cruelty and the whole ghastly regime began again. Murder, as is obvious from the Casement report, was nothing to the brutes of the Putumayo, and had I suggested that I wanted to leave, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have been killed. It is possible, of course, that in that I am wrong, but I certainly was convinced of it at to a canoe hidden in a little stream that ran close to his hut, which lay about an hour’s walk from La Chorrera. Every few days I strolled down to Keysha's hut, carrying with me tins of beef, condensed milk, and other odds and ends neces- sary for an extended trip. I decided to wait until the next arrival of the company’s steamer Liberal, before attempt- ing my escape, and when the Liberal appeared she brought an additional reason for my prompt exit. This surprising arrival was a copy of the London Daily Mail, overseas edition, sent to me by a British friend at Manaos. the front page was an article, made up of what purported to be excerpts from a letter written by me to Sir Roger Casement, which Casement had read before a “select com- mittee” of Parliament. The fact was that this so-called letter was taken directly from a manu- script I had sent Casement months before—a manuscript that I had asked him to hold and under no consideration to publish. It may be, of course, that he had not received my message concerning it—either that or he had definitely gone mad. Everything I said in the manuscript was per- cumstances verged on calamity. Among other things, I connected two of the officials of the Peruvian Amazon Co. with several murders— one as an accomplice after the fact, and the other as having guilty knowledge of the death of Robuchon, the French explorer, who, in his explorations of the Putumayo, had found out too much about conditions there and conse- quently hal disappeared mysteriously. ‘These two men were still connected with the company, and were at Iquitos. If I had had any doubts regarding the desirability of my prompt departure from La Chorrera, this sur- prise eliminated them completely. Fortunately I had the only copy of the Daily Mail that ar- rived at La Chorrera and I was sure nobody there knew yet of the accusations I had made, There was & means of communication be- tween Iquitos and the Putumayo other than the river. It was a hard trail that made its way by land and by small streams, but it had been used on important occasions—such as the necessity of tipping off employes that warrants were out against them—and I had no doubt that the officials at Iquitos would consider my > defection an occasion sufficiently important to warrant the use of that trail.e I consequently did not waste any time after the Liberal had left, carrying with her the greatest amount of rubber ever collected in any three months in the company’s history—a re- sult that showed that forced labor, floggings and other brutalities were not exactly out of style. The steamer was hardly out of sight down the Igaraparana when I sent my houseboy to my friend Keysha with a message. The mes- sage was one word—“Hareek: "—hurry. The boy did not know what it meant, but Keysha did. We had arranged that long before. I waited for three hours for the boy to re- turn. When he did not appear in that time I knew that something was wrong, so I set out to look for him. FPirst I stuffed two hundred pounds in British five-pound notes into my pocket. Then I took my pump gun from its rack and set out. Besides the money in my pockets there was one other important item. As I view the mat- ‘ter today I ¢an 'see reasons why I should not ‘have- ,butfll!ie!twu—‘tp!htmtleot t?‘“ 0¥ \".fs . syt 00 O 22 4 - thoughts. ever, than met the eye, for the bottle contained, in addition to its normal contents, two grams— over 30 grains—of cyanide of potassium. I suppose that months of constant mental strain—for I had never in all that time been ing this runaway trip, I considered the factor of my possible capture very thoroughly, and de- cided that in case I were set upon by the Peru- vians I would do my best to engage them in versation before they killed me. And the way of attracting their attentions—know- animals as I did—was to offer them a I hoped, by my Borgia methods, giE ¥ ; Ee some scoundrsl might be hiding nearby waiting with his Winchester pointed at me. I was afraid. Never in my life have I been more frightened, and I left the boy there and walked rapidly toward the hut of my Indian friend, wondering what had happened and whether or not I would be able to escape. It was dark when I reached Keysha's hut. T called, but not loudly, and no one answered. I fumbled about and lighted a lantern that was among my secreted stores, raising it in order look about. Still there was no sound, but as turned, my eyes fell on a fearful object. My as it held the lantern, shook violently fear, and the shadows in the silent hut vered as if in sympathy, for there, staring me hideously in the face—silent—motionless— ghastly—was Keysha’s dead body hanging from the rafters! I shrank back and turned to run, but stopped abruptly as I heard a half-stified wail from the corner. as yet could not walk—was smothering in the dust. I had not thought of the child until I heard the wail, but then I remembered. The baby’s parents had been murdered some months before—how or why or by whom I do not know—and Keysha had gone into the jungle, to wherever the family had lived, and had brought the baby back with him. Now whoever had hung Keysha had apparently merely kicked the baby into the corner and kicked a lot of filth over him. I pulled the child out and he wailed again, I ran out to the stream to see if my canoe was still in its place. It was, and I thanked God fervently for that. Keysha, according to our agreement, had sunk it beneath a pile of logs, and Keysha—obviously—had died y I was not shot I do not know. I made a mark standing there in the dark with lighted lantern in my hand. Perhaps the devils, not knowing of the canoe and merely that Keysha and I had a secret, did that I contemplated escape, or per- thought that they might get me far- station, and so have a more plau- tell when they blamed the Boras -and the Andokes with my death. That was no new thing to happen. I had heard several times of the lowest type of Peruvians—and there were minds, apparently, there was deeply ingrained the idea that there was a vast difference be- tween murdering an “infidel”—an infidel or un- baptized savage—and murdering one who had received the benefits of baptism. The first were “animales.” The second were “Cristianos ™ And Keysha had been baptized, as the medal- lion at his bare throat plainly showed when the light from the lantern fell upon it. But at that moment I had no time for such I hurriedly emptied my cance of water, carried my hidden supplies from the hut, and put them aboard. Then I went once more “* to 100k 4t the baby boy. I was troubled as well I saw my houseboy imprisoned. His ankles were held closely in the stocks and he lay backward on the ground, badly injured. frightened. The child would certainly die were left there. I dared not go and leave mercies of that merciless place. Yet not handicap my escape with a baby. parents had been murdered. Now his death I never could repay him, but there, after putting out my lantern, I picked up that naked Indian baby and carried him through the utter blackness of the jungle down to my canoce. There was not a sound about us save blackness of its tunnel beneath the trees. Five hundred miles downstream travel lay before me—500 miles before I could reach safety—500 miles of jungle and winding rivers, and possible pursuit and fear. I hesitated and thought I heard a suspicious sound behind me in the darkness. I put my hand across the baby’s mouth and listened for a moment, tensely, while my heart beat heavily in my throat until it almost seemed to sound like the insistent throbbing of a native drum. The devils might leap upon me any moment, I - knew, but despite that knowledge I could not bring myself to move. How long I stood there listening I do not know, but the sound was not repeated, and presently the squirming of the baby roused me - to action A giant firefly glided slowly over the canoe, faintly Ughting the leaves that marked the end of a tralling branch. For a moment more I stood silent—watching. The firefly, its brilliant light still glowing, passed out over the smooth surface of ‘the stream, and I saw its reflection clearly in the blackness of the water. Down- stream it flew, almost as if to lead me on my way. *? Quickly I put the baby among the supplies that were piled at random in the narrow dug- out. I picked up my paddle and shoved off, I fear—and dipped into a mixture of con- densed milk and water. The baby took to it with delight, and from then on the problem ~was simple, although before those endless 11 days and nights had passed it seemed to me that I had dipped that flannel rag into the with the child, when, after having waited for a week at the customs post, an up river steamer arrived. I took the steamer—still with the baby, for I could hardly leave him at the cus- BY this time I had decided that South Amer- ica had lost its attractions. I had seen—or for a large sugar plantation at La Romana, on the same island. . For over two years I remained at the pest, the crossing of South America from Guayaquil to Para, . S0 Mow, TR N YL et wig e