THE START FOR CAPE NEGRO--RIDING ALONG THE STRAITS--
CAPE NEGRO--THE FIRST NIGHT UNDER CANVAS--UNEXPECTED
ARRIVALS--OUR GUESTS--A NOVEL PICNIC--ROUGH-RIDING--
THERE WAS A SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT.
Early in the morning the horses were driven up and saddled, some
trouble being experienced with the pack-mules, who were slightly
restive, taking rather unkindly to their loads at first.
As our guides were busy hunting up the requisite number of horses, and
finishing their preparations for the journey, we took another man with
us for the time that we should have to remain at Cabo Negro, as well
as a little boy, a son of Gregorio's, to help to drive the horses
along. After a hurried breakfast we got into the saddle; the
pack-horses were driven together, not without a great deal of trouble,
for they were as yet strangers to each other, and every now and then
one or two would bolt off, a signal to the whole troop to disperse all
over the place, so that nearly an hour had elapsed before we had
got well clear of the colony, and found ourselves riding over an
undulating grassy stretch, _en route_ for the pampas.
[Illustration: THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN.]
Our way lay over this plain for about an hour, and then, having forded
a small stream, we entered the outskirts of the beechwood forests that
line the Straits. The foliage of the trees was fresh and green, the
sky clear and blue, the air sun-lit and buoyant, and everything
seeming to augur favourably for the success of our trip, we were all
in the best of spirits.
Our road presently brought us down to the Straits of Magellan, along
whose narrow strip of beach, in some places barely three yards broad,
we had now to ride in single file. Along the coast the land terminates
abruptly, and the trees and bushes form an impenetrable thicket, which
comes down almost to the water's edge. Point after point shoots out
into the sea, each bearing a monotonous resemblance to the other,
though, as we advanced, the vegetation that covered them grew more and
more stunted and scanty, till at last the trees and bushes disappeared
altogether, and after a three hours' ride we found ourselves
journeying along under the shadow of some steep bluffs, on which the
only vegetation was a profusion of long coarse grass. Innumerable
species of gulls and albatrosses were disporting themselves on the
blue water, and seemed little alarmed at our approach, lazily rising
from the water a moment as we went past them, to resume almost
immediately their fishing operations. All along the beach, carried
there by the sea from the opposite side, I noticed great quantities of
the cooked shells of crayfish, the remains of many a Fuegian-Indian
meal. The Tierra del Fuego itself was distinctly visible opposite, and
at different points we could see tall columns of smoke rising up into
the still air, denoting the presence of native encampments, just as
Magellan had seen them four hundred years before, giving to the
island, on that account, the name it still bears.
At Cabo Negro we stopped for a moment at a little farmhouse, and
partook of some maté, which was hospitably offered us by the farmer's
wife, and then mounting again, we galloped over a broad grassy plain
where some sheep and cattle were grazing, till we came to a steep,
wooded hill. On its crest, under some spreading beeches, we resolved
to pitch our camp, water being near at hand, and the position
otherwise favourable. In a short time the pack-horses were relieved of
their loads, and neighing joyfully, they galloped away to graze in the
plain we had just crossed. Our tents were pitched, and having made up
our beds in them, so as to have everything ready by night-time, we
began to set about preparing dinner. Wood being abundant, a roaring
fire was soon blazing away cheerily, some meat we had brought from
Sandy Point was put into the iron pot, together with some rice,
onions, etc., and then we lay down round the fire, not a little
fatigued by our day's exertions; but inhaling the grateful odours
arising from the pot, with the expectant avidity of appetites which
the keen Patagonian air had stimulated to an unusual extent.
By the time dinner was over night had set in. The moon had risen, and
the clear star-lit sky gave assuring promises of a continuance of fine
weather. A slight breeze stirred the branches overhead, and in the
distance we could hear the lowing of the cattle on the plains, and the
faint tinkling of the bells of the brood-mares. The strange novelty of
the scene seemed to influence us all, and the men smoked their pipes
in silence. Before going to bed I went for a short stroll to the
shores of a broad lagoon which lay at the foot of the hill on which
our camp was pitched. Its waters glittered brightly in the moonlight,
but the woods which surrounded it were sombre and dark. Occasionally
the sad plaintive cry of a grebe broke the silence, startling me not
a little the first time I heard it, for it sounds exactly like the
wail of a human being in pain. Going back to the camp I found my
companions preparing to go to bed, an example I was not slow to
follow, and soon, wrapt up in our guanaco-fur robes, with our saddles
for pillows, we were all fast asleep.
It had been agreed that the next morning one of our party should go
back to Sandy Point, to see how the guides were getting on, and Mr. B.
having volunteered to perform that task, I rose at an early hour to
get him his breakfast and see him off on his journey. Then, whilst my
brother and husband went out with their guns to shoot wild-duck, I
busied myself writing a few last letters to friends at home. This
done, I rode down to the Straits, and had a plunge into the water, but
it was so cold that I got quite numbed, and with difficulty managed to
dry and dress myself. Late in the afternoon the sportsmen returned,
bringing an excellent bag with them, and we speedily set about
plucking a few birds, and making other preparations for dinner. Just
as, that meal being over, we had settled ourselves comfortably round
the fire, prepared lazily to enjoy the lovely evening, our
camp-servant, who had been on the look-out for the return of Mr. B.,
reported that a troop of about ten horsemen were coming our way. As
Indian traders do not go out to the pampas in such large parties, he
was quite at a loss to imagine who the people could be who were riding
out so late at night, especially as they had no pack-horses with them.
We all got up and went to have a look at these mysterious horsemen. As
they approached the foot of our hill we could see that they were all
armed with guns and rifles, a circumstance which began to suggest
unpleasant recollections of the last Sandy Point mutiny. Could it be
that another outbreak had occurred, and that these men were escaping
to the pampas? If so, they might possibly make a descent on us in
passing, and supply any deficiencies in their own outfit from ours.
This was a rather startling state of affairs, and we were hurriedly
holding counsel as to what was the best course to take under the
circumstances, when our dogs suddenly started up, and began barking
furiously. Then came the sound of horses' hoofs, and brushing through
the tall furze, two horsemen galloped straight towards our camp,
followed, as the sound of voices told us, by the rest of the party. In
another second the two foremost ones reined up in front of us, turning
out to be, not bloodthirsty mutineers, but Mr. Dunsmuir and Mr.
Beerbohm. A few words explained all. The party was composed of some
officers of the "Prinz Adalbert," a German man-of-war, which had
anchored at Sandy Point that morning, Mr. B. having gone on board and
invited them out to our camp for a day's shooting. Delighted at this
solution of the situation, we hurried to welcome our new guests, who
now arrived tired and hungry after their long ride. Among their number
were H.I.H. Prince Henry of Prussia, who was on a cruise in the "Prinz
Adalbert," and her commander, Captain Maclean.
Fresh logs were added to the blazing fire, meat was set to roast, soup
put on to cook, and every preparation made for a good supper--an easy
task, as the officers had brought plentiful supplies of all kinds of
provisions with them. We then lay round the fire, the new-comers
evidently quite charmed by our cosy sylvan quarters, and by the
novelty of the strange picnic, which they had little anticipated
making in Patagonia, of all places in the world.
I was much amused at Mr. B.'s account of how the expedition had been
initiated. He had got into Sandy Point at about nine o'clock, and at
ten the "Prinz Adalbert" was signalled in the offing.
As soon as she had cast anchor he went on board, having been
previously acquainted with the captain, and at breakfast explained his
presence in such an out-of-the-way part of the world as Sandy Point,
by an account of our intended trip, and finally asked the captain and
the officers to come out to our camp and try for themselves what
open-air life in Patagonia was like. He had little difficulty in
persuading them to accept his offer, and whilst the officers made
their preparations, he went on shore to hunt up ten horses, the number
required. This was an easy matter; but it was another thing to find as
many saddles, for, though many people in Sandy Point own numbers of
horses, few have more than one saddle, and such being the case, they
are loth to lend what at any moment may be of pressing necessity for
themselves. However, by dint of ingenious combinations, some kind of
an apology for a saddle was fitted to each horse, and the whole party
at last set off on their trip in high spirits, and very well pleased
with everything. Each officer carried a blanket or rug with him, and,
as some shooting was expected, a gun and some ammunition. For the
first two hours all went well, the air was warm and sunny, the scenery
novel and interesting, and a zest was given to the expedition by its
unconventional character and the suddenness with which it had been
improvised.
But after a time the hard action of the horses and the roughness of
some of the saddles began to have their effect, especially as many of
the officers were little accustomed to riding. Occasionally Mr. B.
would be asked, at first in tones of implied cheerful unconcern, "How
far is it to the camp?" To this question he would reply by a wave of
the hand in the direction of one of the many points which shoot out
along the Straits, saying, "A little beyond that point." Then, as
point after point was passed, and the answer to inquiries still
continued, as before, "A little beyond that point," gradually the
laughter and chat which had enlivened the outset of the trip grew more
constrained, occasional lapses of complete silence intervening. Now
and then one of the riders would move uneasily in the saddle and
sigh--and on the faces of many (especially of those who rode
stirrupless saddles) fell in time an expression of fixed resignation
to suffering, which was not unheroic. Mr. B. observed all this, and
his conscience began to smite him. At starting, in an amiable
endeavour to put everything in a rosy light, he had slightly
understated the distance to our camp, and now the terrible
consequences of his rashness were already visiting him. The
quasi-martyrs whom he was leading, it was but too evident, were only
bearing up against suffering by the comforting consciousness that they
_must_ be close to the camp. He could not undeceive them; he felt
himself woefully wanting in courage enough to break the truth; and yet
the only alternative was to go on repeating the now to him, as to
everybody else, hateful formula, "A little beyond that point." His
victims could only imagine one thing--that he had lost the way, though
in fact he knew the road and its length only too well. Never, as he
said, had it been so palpably brought before him that the way to hell
is paved with good intentions; and his intentions, when mystifying the
party as to the length of the road, had been of the best.
However, all things come to an end, and at last, with a feeling of
deep relief, he was able to point out our hill to the weary
saddle-worn band, whose advent, as possible mutineers, had thrown us
into such a panic.
By the time Mr. B. had finished his story supper was ready, and that
important fact having been duly announced, our hungry guests fell to,
and made a hearty meal. The strain which their number put on the
capabilities of our _batterie de cuisine_ was fortunately relieved by
a profusion of tinned provisions of all kinds which they had wisely
brought with them, and under those Patagonian beeches, together with
the native mutton, were discussed _asperges en jus_, which had
attained their delicate flavour under the mild fostering of a Dutch
summer, _patés_ elaborated far away among the blue Alsatian mountains,
and substantial, though withal subtly flavoured, sausages from the
fatherland itself. After supper pipes were lit, and the wine-cup went
round freely, the woods resounding with laughter and song till nearly
midnight, by which time most of the party were beginning to feel the
effects of their day's exertions, and to long for bed. In one of our
tents we managed to make up four couches, on which the Prince, the
Captain, Count Seckendorff, and another officer respectively laid
their weary limbs, and went to sleep as best they might. The Captain,
a strong stout man, had suffered more than any one from the ride, and
it must have been a moot question in his secret heart whether the
day's enjoyment had not been somewhat dearly purchased.
The others kept up the ball still later, and it must have been quite
two o'clock before the last _convive_ rolled himself up in his
blanket by the fire, and silence fell over our camp. At about that
hour I peered out of my tent at the scene. Round a huge heap of
smouldering logs, in various attitudes, suggestive of deep repose, lay
the forms of the sleepers whom chance had thus strangely thrown
together for one night. Our dogs had risen from their sleep, and in
their turn were making merry over whatever bones or other fragments of
the feast they managed to ferret out. A few moonbeams struggled
through the canopy of leaves and branches overhead, throwing strange
lights and shadows over the camp, and the weird effect of the whole
scene was heightened by the mysterious wail of the grebe, which at
intervals came floating up in the air from the lake below, like the
voice of an unquiet spirit.