How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex (19 page)

The expedition embarked at the crack of dawn eager to put some distance between themselves and any pursuers. Just minutes after leaving shore, Antonio cried out and pointed toward a wild tapir crossing the waterway in front of the lead canoes. Kermit and Cherrie both scrambled for their rifles, but they were once again too late. The beast crossed to shore and sped off into the brush.

The expedition didn’t progress very far. Only a kilometer and a half farther downriver and after several severe twists and turns, they encountered another set of impassable rapids, and the paddlers directed their canoes toward shore.

The camaradas immediately began to unload the provisions and prepare for portage. Colonel Rondon sent Lieutenant Martin back to watch for any sign of the Wide Belt natives, while Rondon and Lyra, along with Kermit and Antonio scouted both sides of the river ahead. Paishon—with Roosevelt’s concurrence—sent two men out to collect
palmito
to placate the laborer’s pervasive hunger.

Rondon reported another river merging from the west even larger than the Rio Kermit, the tributary they had just discovered a few days before. The new river flowed into the Rio Roosevelt at approximately the mid-point of the rapids. “Judging by the size of this newest tributary,” Rondon said to Roosevelt. “I feel it impossible that the Rio Roosevelt flows directly into either the
Gy
-Paraná
or the Tapajos Rivers; although it could go into an affluent of the
Madeira,
which runs alongside the Tapajos.”

“What about the
Aripuanã,”
Roosevelt asked.

Rondon grinned. “Once again, Colonel Roosevelt, you impress me with your knowledge of Brazilian topography.”

“Sadly the English map I carry is woefully incomplete, failing to label the tributary by name.”

“Yes,
senhor
, nothing but the mouth of the Aripuanã has ever been charted by any modern geographer. And yet I have spoken to some rubber-gatherers who have ascended sections of the river, but they reportedly only progressed so far before turning back to the river’s mouth once again.”

Lieutenant Martin returned from his scouting assignment by late afternoon. He reported finding no sign of any natives stalking the expedition, and a collective sigh of relief was felt across all levels of the expedition’s team. The camaradas made camp just below the rapids, tucked away in a tiny bay with a pleasant white sand beach. The campsite was carved from a section of river where the water flowed wide and strong, and where they could easily embark once the portage was complete.

The men slept soundly that night for the first time in a week. Colonel Rondon left nothing to chance, posting armed guards around the camp’s periphery until sunrise.

The morning of the twenty-fifth of March brought clear skies and a vivid sunrise. Colonel Roosevelt noted in his journal that they now had been navigating the newly christened Roosevelt River for nearly an entire month. After receiving Rondon’s daily orders, the camaradas bore the last of the canoes past the rapids and down to their campsite. Kermit and Lieutenant Lyra supervised the tiring chore, but both men pitched in to help with the heavy lifting at every opportunity.

Theodore Roosevelt reveled in the pleasant morning. He bundled his spare clothes and strolled down to the white sand beach below camp. George Cherrie stood knee-deep in the tea-colored water, sloshing his own extra trousers through the sluggish current.

“A fine day,” Roosevelt said. “And a most lovely spot, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Colonel, a welcome respite…” Cherrie pointed upward into the trees. “Did you notice?”

“Yes, of course, parakeets of many hues and large toucans, colorful and pleasing to the eye. Magnificent!”

“Behold the Amazon jungle displayed in full splendor for your explicit enjoyment, Mr. President.”

“And yet I must apologize, George, for I bear a bit of disagreeable news. Kermit and Lyra have sent me on a mission to ask you to assist with slogging the largest canoe.”

Cherrie nodded and waded toward shore. “Of course, Colonel, allow me a moment to stow my laundry.”

“Give them to me.”

“You?”

“Yes, George, I’ve waited nearly a month but I feel it about time I demonstrate some of my accumulated and previously hidden skills. Let me have your worst. Hand them over.”

Cherrie smiled. “As you wish, Colonel, perhaps someday I will tell my grandchildren how I once had my skivvies laundered by the President of the United States!”

Roosevelt laughed.

Roosevelt applied a tad of lye and soaked the garments in the murky river. He wrung the clothes tightly and laid them out upon the rocks where the sun’s rays managed to penetrate the forest’s canopy. Standing alone amid his thoughts, Roosevelt relished the sights and sounds of the forest; his eyes danced upon the gently swirling water as it slid past him and out of sight to the north.

His brief, peaceful interlude was interrupted upon noticing Lieutenant Martin’s approach. Martin settled his bony frame upon a large flat rock and set his rifle aside.

“Mr. Martin, what brings you here? Have you seen any sign of the Wide Belts?”

“I can report with great relief to myself and all others that I have seen no indication of pursuit of any kind. And yet, as I have stated repeatedly, I would caution against letting down our guard.”

“That is wise council, Lieutenant, and one for which you can rest assured we will continue to abide.”

“Brilliant, Colonel, simply brilliant.”

Roosevelt wiped his brow. “Is there anything else, Mr. Martin?”

“Why yes, Colonel Roosevelt. I am sincerely interested in hearing your opinion regarding our little chat with the Wide Belt chief.”

“Yes?”

“And the chief’s father, who appears to be one of the last men to see—”

“—witness a large and yet to be identified creature?”

Martin hesitated briefly. “Yes, you may say so if you wish.”

“That is what I believe, Mr. Martin.”

“And yet you do suppose there is some kind of unknown beast lurking in the jungle ahead, do you not? The narrative comes from three different sources, and now we have met an actual eyewitness?”

“Many years have passed since the chief’s father last encountered this animal, and these indigenous peoples do partake in many hallucinogenic festivities. His memories could very well be dreams manifesting as reality, conjured in the feeble mind of a woefully malnourished man.”

“Colonel Roosevelt, just imagine the impact on the scientific community if the existence of this creature can be substantiated with solid evidence. The Museum of Natural History will bask in glorious praise from all quarters.”

Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “Well, I do have little doubt Osborn himself would be tickled beyond comprehension upon such a find.”

“Then you will support sending out an exploratory expedition when we reach the Wide Belt’s sacred land?”

“I cannot promise such…”

“But you do hold great sway with Rondon, correct?”

“Not as much as you may imagine, Lieutenant. And you must always remember that I have a greater responsibility to get our men through this mission and back home safely.”

“Yes, of course…”

“And now I have a question specifically for you, Lieutenant.”

“Yes.”

“What motivates you to risk your life on the slim chance of being successful in this quest?”

Martin laughed. “That is a fair question, and one I have not articulated to anyone’s satisfaction, it appears.”

“Yes, you can say we officers are boundlessly curious. Perhaps you seek riches, gold…?”

“I am a scientist, Mr. Roosevelt.”

“Diamonds?”

Roosevelt noticed a tiny flicker in Martin’s eyes. “My own curiosity rules my existence, Colonel. I need no other creature comforts; although I admit the desire to share the spotlight with my colleagues like most other ambitious intellectuals.” Martin smiled devilishly. “And we both know the lure of the people’s accolades, do we not?”

Roosevelt smirked. “I will see what I can do.”

The camaradas retired early, leaving Roosevelt, Rondon, and George Cherrie to mind the campfire. Roosevelt inhaled the sweet odor of smoldering brazil-nut and palm. Roosevelt pulled himself close, speaking in little more than a whisper. “Lieutenant Martin came to me yesterday and once again pleaded his case to investigate the Wide Belt’s legend.”

Rondon shook his head. “The Arawuua beast?”

Roosevelt nodded. “I gave him my word that I would present his request to be considered in earnest.”

“The creature is unquestionably a product of countless generations of native lore,” Cherrie said. “I doubt it has walked the earth for several centuries—most likely hunted to extinction by the chief’s ancestors.”

“Yet there could be a slim chance it may still exist in isolated pockets. And no temperate area on earth can claim to be more isolated than the deep Amazon.”

“Still, Colonel, the chances of finding a new, giant species of crocodile or caiman is practically non-existent, especially in the short time we will have to search.”

“I am the least physically-able of us all,” Roosevelt said. “And I personally stand willing to take this leap of faith for purposes of scientific discovery.”

“But will the rank-and-file concur,
senhor
Roosevelt?” Rondon said. “We have already asked the men for heroic courage and strength on this mission. Delaying their journey home even by a few days could be the difference between life and death.”

Roosevelt thought for a moment before replying somberly. “Yes, I have once again allowed myself to wander from the expedition’s stated goals, and I humbly apologize to you both.”

Theodore Roosevelt stared in the fire’s glowing coals amid Rondon’s and Cherrie’s telltale silence. He could not determine whether he was relieved, saddened, or deeply disappointed.

The following morning, Lieutenant Lyra instructed their best three paddlers to guide the unburdened canoes to the base of the rapids where they presently camped. Paishon found the surrounding forest well-stocked with brazil-nuts,
palmito
, and even huge nests filled with honey-comb. A group of camaradas caught a half-dozen piranha and the men feasted within the shade of the towering rubber trees under a blazing noontime sun.

George Cherrie returned to camp following a short excursion to collect some new feathered specimens. He displayed a puzzled look and conveyed a curious tale. Along the rapids, the lanky naturalist had discovered a rock outcropping scarred by strange markings. Cherrie led Roosevelt, Rondon, and Lieutenant Martin to the spot.

Theodore Roosevelt gazed up in helpless wonder. He noticed two sets of distinct markings etched in stone: one set faced the land, the other faced the river. The markings tilting toward land consisted of four evenly-spaced dotted circles and four figures of squiggly lines.

“Curious…” Cherrie said.

“No doubt, very ancient,” Rondon added.

Lieutenant Martin moved closer. “These are distinct tribal symbols. I have only seen such markings used by people native to the Bolivian highlands. These are extremely rare amongst the remote peoples of the deep Amazon.”

“What do they mean?” Roosevelt asked.

“The symbols facing the land signify that certain death lies ahead by way of the forest, and the symbols facing the water mean—”

 
“I think we can all hazard a guess, Lieutenant,” Roosevelt interrupted, his words dripping with measured sarcasm. “And thank you for your earnest assessment.”

The men dined that evening on fresh fish and delicious wild pineapple. Many of the camaradas admitted feeling nearly rejuvenated, although several of the men remained weakened with fever and crippled with swollen feet from ferocious insect bites or festering cuts made while trekking across the razor-sharp jungle floor. Lieutenant Lyra assigned a single sentry in four-hour shifts and the remaining men slept soundly, listening to the usual chatter of nocturnal Amazonian creatures going about their business beneath the starry southern sky.

Roosevelt awakened early on the following day eager to complete his notes before the camaradas broke camp and the expedition moved onward and into the unknown. He wrote in his diary for March twenty-seventh of their encounter with the Wide Belts and of their harrowing escape from the hostile natives, and he noted Cherrie’s discovery of the strange rock carvings beside the river.

Roosevelt carefully tucked away his papers and ink, and then he watched the camaradas hurriedly extinguish the campfire and pack up camp. Lieutenant Martin returned from an early morning scouting assignment, whereupon Roosevelt motioned him over.

“I don’t quite know how to break this to you gently, Lieutenant, so I’ll just come right out and say it directly: the officers have decided not to investigate the Wide Belt’s legend. They believe we should continue through these lands and complete our mission with utmost haste.”

Martin took a moment to presumably collect his thoughts. “It stands without saying that I feel this is a colossal blunder on the expedition’s part.”

“And it very well may be, but we appear to have little choice at this point. The men are in such desperate shape with sickness and so near starvation. Any delay could be catastrophic to—”

“The loss within the scientific realm could be staggering, Colonel.”

Roosevelt lowered his eyes sympathetically. “Yes, perhaps, but I will promise to throw my weight behind another mission when this expedition is completed. I will pledge to return to these lands and perform a thorough autopsy of this legend.”

“But that could take years, Colonel, perhaps decades to organize. The beast may very well be extinct if we delay any further. Clearly, the time to act is now! We have the manpower, and we have the guns and ammunition in our possession. The world’s greatest scientific discovery is within our grasp. I beg of you, Mr. Roosevelt, don’t throw it all away.”

“I’m afraid searching for the beast is presently out of the question, Mr. Martin. And our answer in this regard is resolute.”

Martin’s eyes flashed anger. “Such foolishness I have not seen—”

“Careful, Lieutenant!” Roosevelt raised his finger.

Martin sighed. “Is that all, Colonel?”

Roosevelt replied with a stern glare.

The flotilla was extraordinarily brief on this morning, following a late breakfast made up of only a small fraction of their provisions in addition to some honey and milk-root leftover from the previous day. Roosevelt noticed the land rising to steep hills covered in lofty trees and dense green vegetation. The river they were presently descending appeared to split the hills, rushing off and downward to the north and west. Upon observing the moderately-sized mountains, Roosevelt turned to Cherrie and gestured wordlessly.

“Rapids,” Cherrie responded glumly.

“A logical conclusion,” Roosevelt replied.

Theodore Roosevelt calculated they had advanced a mere three kilometers from their last camp when they were once again forced to shore by turbulent water. Colonel Rondon and Lieutenant Lyra surveyed the situation quickly and determined that the canoes could run the rapids if the vessels were emptied and sent down piloted by two skilled paddlers.

Paishon chose his best camaradas, and the dugouts were navigated down a long series of rapids between the tropical hills. The final two dugouts, lashed together for stability, were the last to be conveyed. Paishon chose himself to captain the creaky vessel along with Antonio, Luiz, and Julio.

The camaradas, in good spirits following the successful and timely completion of moving the previous canoes, pushed the double-wide craft onto the hurrying water. Roosevelt and Rondon watched closely from shore while the camaradas paddled deftly down the channel and into the misty air below.

Suddenly the canoe skidded right, and before the men could correct their course, the two canoes careened sideways and into a cluster of overhanging branches near shore. The men jostled and ducked upon the light impact, but the boats stood fast, braced between the onrushing water and the steadfast limbs.

Lieutenant Martin arrived at the scene a few minutes later. He waded into the water and assisted each of the crew from the jammed dugouts. Free of the men’s weight, the two canoes thrashed against each other and rapidly filled with water. Martin requested Luiz’s knife, and he and Paishon hurriedly severed the dugout’s lashings, relieving some of the outward pressure. Free from each other’s weight, the boats stabilized.
Good
, Roosevelt thought, observing from upstream.
At least for the moment both canoes are apparently not in danger of thrashing each other to pieces
.

Colonel Rondon instructed Kermit and Lyra to retrieve two coils of rope from their provisions. Teddy Roosevelt, Kermit, and Lyra arrived at the shoreline near the distressed vessels a short time later. Kermit looked the situation over and stroked his bearded chin.

“There!” Lieutenant Martin shouted, pointing to a small rock island ten meters upstream. “We can free the canoes from there.”

Kermit and Lyra waded to the island and let out their ropes into the current. Martin and Paishon tied the lines to the first vessel’s bow and stern. Kermit, Lyra, and four other camaradas anchored themselves on the rock island and pulled with all their might, but the boat barely budged.

“I need more men,” Martin cried. “Rondon, Colonel Roosevelt… everyone!”

Colonel Rondon and Theodore Roosevelt removed their shoes and trousers and stepped carefully into the waist-deep water. The remaining camaradas positioned themselves around the beleaguered canoe, grasping the vessel firmly alongside the two commanders.

“Pull!”

Kermit, Lyra, and their crew pulled with all their might while Martin and the others shoved the canoe out of the thicket’s grasp until it floated freely, pointing upstream. Following several mighty heaves, they pushed and pulled the dugout up and onto the tiny island. Kermit and Lyra freed the ropes and tossed it back to Martin. Martin skillfully positioned the men again, and they freed the second canoe, dragging it safely upon land.

The men, all breathing heavily, cheered Martin for his keen engineering and decisive deeds. Even Kermit and Lyra both offered sincere praise for the English Lieutenant’s bold actions.

“A fine job, Mr. Martin,” Roosevelt said, pulling on his worn trousers. “I’m sure the men are all pleased we can advance before sundown.”

“Yes,” Martin replied dryly. “I’m certain all are eager to forge ahead.”

Roosevelt detected an odd twinge in Martin’s normally sarcastic tone. Realizing this as an unusual departure from the Englishman’s usual distant approach when interacting with his fellow camaradas, Roosevelt took particular note.

The camaradas completed moving the supplies and equipment overland by mid-afternoon, and they were once again ready to proceed downriver. Abruptly, the skies darkened with ominous thunderheads, and Roosevelt and George Cherrie took cover beneath a broad tree. The ensuing rains were the worst Roosevelt had encountered since arriving in Brazil. The sky opened like a waterfall, pounding the green earth in massive waves, such that he and Cherrie could barely discern the opposite riverbank.

It was late afternoon before they could even think of launching on the Rio Roosevelt once again. They made barely a mile in the rain before pulling ashore and setting up camp in the sopping jungle. Soaked to the bone, the men huddled beside the smoldering campfire. They tried unsuccessfully to dry some of their saturated clothing during the ceaseless downpours, finally abandoning all hope of a restful night’s sleep amidst the shrouded and sodden night.

Roosevelt woke late on the twenty-eight day of March. Crawling out of his tent and into the dripping rainforest, he noticed George Cherrie already by the fire sipping coffee. The camp appeared abandoned.

“And a good morning to you, Colonel, I’m glad to see you wake before noon.”

“I’m afraid I forfeited any restful sleep with those dreaded rains.”

“As did all of us, more or less… I can only report the downpours relenting sometime near dawn.”

Roosevelt sniffed. “Pour me a cup, George. It could very well save my dreary life.”

Teddy Roosevelt sipped the bitter brew. He closed his eyes savoring each moment while the caffeine began to surge through his half-century-old veins. “And, might I ask, where are the others?”

“Rondon and Lyra escorted Kermit and Antonio downriver on a little scouting trip.”

“And the camaradas…?”

“Scavenging for food.”

“Good, good.”

“Martin has suddenly decided to step forward and coach the men on finding edible plants. He claims to know some varieties they have overlooked in the past, putting his
Nhambiquara
experience to practical use.”

“Martin? I wonder what precipitated this abrupt interest in the camarada’s wellbeing.”

“Perhaps he has finally linked his own chance of survival with that of his fellow workers? Come to think about it, Colonel, I reason Martin the only man amongst us who could survive this jungle alone, don’t you agree?”

“But why did he wait over a month to do so?” Roosevelt shook his head. “George, there are things this man does that simply defy common sense.”

Cherrie raised his brow and took another sip of coffee. “Colonel, there was quite a stir amongst the camaradas after Rondon departed.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Antonio spread word of the Wide Belt’s legend and the men are clearly on edge. I noticed most carried guns and extra ammunition into the jungle this morning.”

“The dissemination of this knowledge was inevitable, George.”

“Yes, I suppose it is, Colonel. And I’m glad the camaradas are off on their little mission. One can never underestimate the benefit of keeping the rank-and-file occupied in circumstances like these.”

“Indeed, however, I must note that one must always be vigilant of what they are occupied with, Mr. Cherrie.”

Lieutenant Martin returned with the camaradas shortly after noon. The men bore many species of plants and slabs of honey, and all of the laborers appeared content and in high spirits. Roosevelt commended the Englishman on his valuable contribution to the expedition, to which Martin responded with a polite nod between subtle glances toward Julio de Lima.

Colonel Rondon and his contingent returned to camp two hours later. Rondon immediately pulled Roosevelt and Cherrie aside. “I’m afraid I bear very discouraging news. Several kilometers ahead, the river falls through a steep gorge that appears to run for several miles. The rapids are home to a handful of high waterfall and will be impossible to run in our canoes. More disheartening is the fact that the dugouts cannot be portaged along the steep vertical cliffs of the gorge. If Mr. Kermit cannot determine a way to lower the boats through the most treacherous passages, our only hope will be to clear a route to convey our supplies over the mountain itself and then rebuild our canoes on the opposite side.”

Roosevelt shook his head. “A long and impassible gorge…? Is that not what the Wide Belt’s chief forewarned?”

“Yes, Colonel Roosevelt, the area appears to exist in fact, not merely legend.”

Cherrie said, “Then we may also be forced to contend with other matters, will we not?”

“
Sim
, Mr. Cherrie,” Rondon said. “Although the odds remain slim, there is a chance the land ahead may be stalked by a dangerous creature.”

Theodore Roosevelt thought this a stunning admission from both men.

The sun set over the western forest and the officers settled in around the campfire as the cook distributed their rations. The camaradas huddled away from the fire, whispering in small groups. Roosevelt could sense an unease permeate the entire camp.