It was no easy matter to put all things in readiness for an expedition up the river. It was like preparing for a family movement to the Oregon. In addition to Mr. Bradley, two other gentlemen were to accompany us: Mr. McCulloch, the proprietor of a saw-mill at the Barra de Rio Negro, who had lately come down, with a raft of cedar-boards, to within a few days’ sail of the city; and Mr. Williams, a young gentleman from Newark, New Jersey, staying, like ourselves, at Mr. Norris's, and who desired a further acquaintance with the wonders of the interior.

The boat in which we were to make our cruise was called a galliota, a sort of pleasure-craft, but well adapted to such excursions. It was thirty feet in length, having a round, canoe bottom, and without a keel; its greatest width was seven feet; the after part was a cabin, lined on either side, and at the remote end, with lockers for provisions and other matters. Upon each locker was scanty room for one sleeper, and two could lie comfortably upon the floor, while another swung above them in a hammock. In front of the cabin-door was a tiny deck, and beyond this, covering the hold, and extending to within two feet of the extreme bow, was the tolda, covered with canvass, and intended for the stowage of goods or baggage. On either side of this tolda was a space a foot in width, and level. Here, in most awkward positions, were to sit the paddlers.