We continued our journey with great industry, generally travelling
about forty miles a day. My Indian guide had the usual taciturnity of
his race, but occasionally he entered into conversation, and I then
discovered that he had led a life of adventure, and possessed the happy
talent of describing what he had seen. I had by this time acquired a
knowledge of the Spanish language, and I therefore found his narratives
quite a resource during the tedious hours during which we seemed to be
creeping like snails over the almost interminable plain.
He had frequently officiated before as a guide over the road we were
now travelling, and he gave me an account of several occurrences in
which he had taken part, which might have graced the pages of romance.
It appears that the Pampas are inhabited by a peculiar race of men,
called Gauchos. These are the descendants of Spaniards of wild and
irregular character, who had fled from civilized society and settled
upon the plains, subsisting almost entirely by hunting and rearing
cattle. The son followed the vocation of the father, and thus several
succeeding generations of hunters had been scattered over these
prairies. At the time of which I am speaking, they consisted of
considerable numbers of people, though they lived apart from each other
in families, dwelling in small huts, and spending the greater part of
their time on horseback. These men generally respected travellers, but
occasionally they would take to the highway and commit desperate acts
of robbery.
There were small bands of Indians, also, whose homes were along the
southern borders of the Pampas, but possessing fleet horses, they
occasionally made incursions even into remote portions of the plains,
and after having struck a sudden blow upon some unprotected family,
they would speed to another and another, marking their route with blood
and conflagration. Of these wild and savage people, my guide told me
various anecdotes. I have not space to recount them, but in order to
give an idea of the scenes which are constantly occurring in this
remote region of the world, I will repeat one of the tales which he
told me.
A few years previous to the period of which I am speaking, a wealthy
Spanish gentleman, with his daughter about eighteen years of age, was
travelling from Chili to Buenos Ayres. They were in a carriage drawn by
four horses, and were attended by several servants, two of whom were on
horseback. One night, as they were passing through a thicket of tall
grass, a terrible cry burst upon their ears, and at the same moment
about a dozen savages sprung from their lurking places, and immediately
assailed the travelling party. The servants who were armed discharged
their pistols, but they were speedily torn from their horses; the
coachman was knocked from his seat, and the two post-boys in their
fright ran away. The gentleman in the coach threw open the door and
rushed out; but at the moment, he was laid prostrate, by a blow, upon
the earth.
Frightened at the sounds around them, the horses in the carriage began
to rear and plunge, and then, suddenly springing forward, ran with
all their might. In a few moments, they were lost to the view, but the
rattling of the wheels was heard for a time, and was then suddenly
terminated by a heavy and crashing sound.
The pockets of the travellers were soon rifled, and the Indians then
departed in pursuit of the coach, leaving two of the servants who had
been engaged in the fray dead upon the spot, and the Spanish gentleman
himself stunned by the blows he had received.
At the distance of two miles, the savages found the coach overturned,
and reduced to a mere wreck. The young lady within, overcome with
terror, was in a state of insensibility. Being taken out, she was
speedily restored. The coach was then rifled, and the lady being placed
on horseback before one of the savages, the party pushed forward across
the prairie in a southerly direction.
In the course of four days, they reached their settlements, and the
young lady, whose name was Donna Marina, was committed to the charge
of a daughter of one of the savage chiefs. Worn out with fatigue and
anxiety, she seemed at first indifferent to her fate; but in the
course of a few days, having recovered her health and spirits, she
became desirous of knowing the fate that awaited her. She then learned
that a messenger was to be despatched to Buenos Ayres, where, it
was ascertained, her father had arrived, proposing to surrender his
daughter for a ransom of 5000 dollars.
Understanding from the savage maiden under whose care she was placed,
that no personal injury to herself was intended, she became tolerably
calm. But it chanced that there was among the Indians a fiery young
warrior, whose father was a Spaniard, his mother being an Indian. He
was born at one of the Spanish huts in the vicinity of Buenos Ayres,
and in his early days had acquired a taste for the refinements of
civilized life. But his natural daring and love of adventure had led
him to join the wild inhabitants of the Pampas, among whom he had now
become a celebrated leader.
At this period, he was in the bloom of early manhood, and was
remarkable alike for the symmetry of his form, the grace of his
movements, and the manly beauty of his countenance. Among the women
of the tribe, he was an object of universal regard, on account of his
fine appearance, and even the stern old warriors could not withhold
their admiration at his achievements in the foray and the field. Thus
an object of universal adulation, it may well be supposed that the
young warrior, whose name was Yorika, had a pretty high estimate of
himself. He was not of the party who had captured the fair Marina; but
when he heard of the beauty of the maiden, he sought an opportunity to
see her. His wishes were easily gratified by means of a little flattery
bestowed upon her keeper. Vanity had led the youthful Indian to seek
the interview, but a deeper sentiment led him frequently to renew it.
The beauty of the captive stole into his heart, and doubtless, her
gentle manners awakened his recollections of scenes that had been
familiar in his childhood. At all events, he was deeply enamored of
the Spanish maiden, and did not hesitate to avow his passion. His
overtures, however, were sternly repelled; and, stung to the quick,
the fiery savage determined to obtain by force the maiden he could not
win by affection.
During these events, the messenger had communicated with the father
of Donna Marina at Buenos Ayres, and brought a favorable answer to
the proposition of ransom. In two days a gentleman was to arrive at
a designated point to pay the required sum and receive the captive.
Preparations were immediately made to carry the treaty into effect,
and in due time four men were despatched with Donna Marina to meet the
Spanish agent. Yorika had been designated as one of this party, but he
excused himself, seeming to disdain a service which offered so little
of enterprize or adventure.
The party set forward, and at the place of meeting found the person
whom they expected, already in attendance. The negotiation was speedily
settled, the money paid and the captive surrendered. The savages, and
the Spanish maiden, now under the charge of her affianced lover, also
departed. The latter were mounted on horseback, and by the light of a
summer moon they made their way across the plain. Rejoicing in their
reunion after the distressing events which had transpired, they rode
side by side, their hearts being often too full for utterance.
At length their path led them into a shallow vale thickly overgrown
with wild thistles. As they were passing through this, a pistol was
fired, and a ball whizzed near the breast of the attendant of Donna
Marina. A moment after, the athletic form of Yorika rose from the
thicket and sprung like a lion upon the object at which his pistol
had been aimed. The Spaniard was immediately pulled from his horse,
and a desperate conflict ensued. The superior strength of the Indian,
however, prevailed, and he soon pressed the form of his antagonist
beneath him. He drew his dirk, and was about to plunge it into the
breast of his foe.
At that critical instant, the Spaniard brought his pistol to bear, and
discharging it in the breast of the Indian, laid him prostrate upon the
earth. Bruised and bleeding, he rose from the ground and made his way
to Marina. At first, the girl shrunk back with horror, imagining that
it was the victorious Yorika, who had come to claim her as his own. But
when her reason was restored, and she learned the truth, she expressed
her joy and gratitude alike for the safety of her lover and her own.
Such was one of the tales of my guide, which beguiled the weariness of
our journey over the Pampas. He related several narratives respecting
the jaguar, which is a kind of tiger infesting the thickets which
border upon the road. One day, as we were passing through an immense
forest of thistles, ten feet in height, and spreading out like an
interminable sea on every side, he pointed to a spot where a traveller,
on descending from his horse, had been seized and torn in pieces by one
of these furious beasts.
Day after day, we continued our monotonous course. Although it was
winter, the weather by no means answered to the common idea of that
season. We had occasional rain, but it was seldom colder than during
our April or May. Few incidents occurred to break the uniformity of
our journey. One day appeared like another, and as we had no objects
by which we could mark our progress, we seemed, like a ship in the
waste of waters, to stand still in the midst of the shoreless desert.
As we stood alone upon the bosom of the mighty prairie, stretching out
on every side, and blending itself with the sky, we seemed dwindled
into insects. Never have I felt such a sense of nothingness as in the
presence of that mighty plain. In measuring myself by the gigantic
scale which the Pampas presented, it seemed that I might be blotted
from existence like the veriest moth that fluttered in the breeze. It
was not until I turned my mind upon my plans and prospects, my hopes
and fears, that my bosom began to swell again with those powerful
emotions which seem to give importance to our existence and enable us
to triumph over the despondency which often besets the heart, and might
otherwise sink us in despair.
The sense of loneliness, the yearning for society, the longing to be
restored to the sympathy of human beings which beset one in these
solitudes, can only be understood by experience. I doubtless felt
these the more from my youth and the want of that stern habit of
self-reliance which is acquired by men who pursue a life of hazard and
adventure. But I was becoming trained in the school of experience, and
day by day was learning to sustain myself with my own thoughts, plans
and prospects.
We met few travellers upon the road. Four men on horseback, and a
company with two vehicles, were all that we encountered in a distance
of more than 500 miles. The latter consisted of some five and twenty
persons. They had a baggage cart, which was a capacious, rude
uncouth-looking vehicle, with cane sides and a roof covered with
hides. The body was balanced upon two prodigiously high wheels for the
convenience of passing through rivers. The other vehicle was a long
coach, called a _galera_, and resembled the modern omnibus; the seats
ran sideways, and the door was at the end. To each of these carriages
there were four horses, and a postilion to each horse. Such is the
ordinary equipment of travellers upon the Pampas.
The post houses upon the road were miserable tenements, generally of
mud, and affording scanty accommodation. The lazy inhabitants seem to
offer the commonest civility with reluctance or languid indifference.
We occasionally met with huts inhabited by squalid Indians, who
seemed sunk in indolence and apathy. They were nearly naked, yet they
possessed a gentle and kindly character. The herds of cattle upon the
plains furnish them abundance of meat, and they parted with it freely,
seeming to be almost indifferent whether they received compensation or
not.
At the end of twenty days, we reached the verge of the Pampas, and
now began to ascend the highlands, which rise by gradations for the
distance of nearly two hundred miles, at the foot of the Andes.
Industriously pursuing our journey, we rose step by step, and at last
reached a village situated in a deep gorge at the foot of mountains
that seemed to reach the skies. Here we sold our horses, and purchased
mules, these animals being considered safer in climbing the dizzy
precipices, over which our road now lay.
Being duly equipped, and having rested three days, we departed and
began to creep up the frowning battlements of the Andes. Sometimes we
seemed lost in deep and dark ravines; sometimes we threaded our way
amid rocks that lifted their shaggy pinnacles over our heads, which
seemed to threaten us with destruction, and sometimes, we reached a
lofty peak from which we could see the rugged valley stretched out
behind, and still loftier pinnacles rising up to the heavens in front.
How striking the contrast between these savage mountains and the level
prairie!--yet the emotions they excited were nearly the same; the
same overpowering sense of vastness in nature; the same oppressive
sense of my own insignificance, visited me here as upon the Pampas.
There was, indeed, something exhilarating in the mountain air, and the
consciousness of danger frequently experienced as we wound along the
edges of the mountains with a yawning chasm of five hundred feet below,
imparted something of a romantic interest to our journey. The scenery,
too, was often amazingly grand, and when at last we reached the highest
ridge of the Andes, and I gazed upon its glittering peaks covered
with everlasting snow, I experienced a sensation which I shall never
forget. They seemed indeed like bluish-white clouds piled up to the
very heavens. They appeared like the ghosts of mountains, dreamy and
mist-like, rather than those eternal barriers of snow-capped granite
which they really are.
Winding for several days along the devious path, amid the wilderness
of rocky peaks and cliffs, we began to emerge from the labyrinth, and
the western slope of the Andes soon opened before us. Creeping over
a succession of ridges, we finally reached the undulating plain, and
from an eminence, we caught a distant view of the Pacific. Proceeding
through a country of great fertility we arrived at the place of our
destination, thankful indeed that I had reached it in safety.