DOWN THE WESTERN SLOPE OF THE ANDES.--A LONG IMPRISONMENT IN THE
SNOW.--"THE SOLDIER'S LEAP."--SANTA ROSA.--SANTIAGO.--ARRIVAL AT
VALPARAISO.
[Illustration: THE CONDOR.]
Several condors were wheeling in the air above the little party, but,
besides these huge birds of the mountains, there were no visible signs
of animal life. In the last half-hour of the ascent Frank had felt the
effect of the rarefied atmosphere of his great elevation. He breathed
with difficulty, and as he took the air into his lungs its lightness was
very unsatisfying. There seemed to be a heavy pressure upon his chest,
and several times a faintness came over him which threatened to end in
unconsciousness. He tried to think of other things, and in this way
preserved his senses, and kept from falling out of the saddle.
But if the youth suffered from the rarity of the atmosphere while making
no exertions, what must it have been with the animal he rode? The breath
of the mule came quick and fast, and was expelled from the nostrils with
a loud sound; the animal could hardly take a dozen steps without halting
to rest; and it was the same with all the other beasts of the train.
Frank declared afterwards that he never witnessed a more notable
instance of patience and perseverance on the part of the much-derided
hybrid than in that ride over the Andes. He forgave the animal for his
eccentricities and insubordination near Mendoza, and promised never
again to despise a mule.
Before beginning the descent it was necessary to make a careful
adjustment of the saddles, to prevent their slipping forward, as the
road is quite as steep as the one up which they had just been climbing.
Every strap was tightened and fastened, and when all was ready, and the
mules had fully recovered their breathing powers, the column began its
march into Chili.
"Down, down we went," wrote Frank in his journal, "along a series of
zigzags cut into the steep slope of the mountain at an angle of nearly
forty-five degrees. The vast area before us, bordered by the distant
ocean, was broken into mountains and valleys, dotted with forests and
stretches of open country, sprinkled with towns and villages, and seamed
and streaked with the tortuous paths of rivers which have their sources
on the sides of the Andes, and are fed from the melting snows. The
contemplation of such an expanse of the world's surface lying at my feet
told more plainly than my sufferings with the rarefied air the great
elevation I had attained. I was at a height of more than two miles, and
the summits of mountains that would be considered lofty almost anywhere
else were far below me. The ocean seemed near and far; its horizon
appeared at an almost limitless distance, and at the same time I could
half believe that a stone thrown from my hand would fall on the shore.
"We halted at the first hut, and remained an hour for lunch and rest.
While we were waiting, Federico told me how he was once caught at this
very casucha in a _temporale_, or snow-storm.
"It was rather late in the autumn, and he was going alone from Mendoza
to Santa Rosa, having been hired by a merchant of the former place to
take an important message over the mountains. He had passed the summit
in safety, and reached this casucha just at sunset, when he saw a
temporale sweeping down from the north. He dismounted in front of the
casucha, and just as he had loosened his saddle and thrown it to the
ground the mule sprang from him, dashed down the path, and was out of
sight in a moment. The storm came, and he entered the building for
safety; he afterwards ascertained that the mule tumbled over a
precipice, and was killed by the fall into the chasm below.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN THE SNOW.]
"All night the snow whirled around the little dwelling, and in the
morning the drifts reached to the top of the doorway. Road, cliff, and
chasm were obliterated, and it would have been certain death to go on.
There he remained day after day; the storm continued, and was so violent
that, for much of the time, he could not see a dozen yards away. The hut
was without a door, the cold was intense, and his little store of
charcoal was of no use to give warmth to the wind-swept building.
"He was threatened with death by starvation, as his stock of provisions
was small. He ate as little as possible consistent with supporting life;
hour after hour he sat and gazed at his possessions, wondering whether
they would hold out until he could venture to descend from his mountain
prison. On the seventeenth day the last mouthful was consumed, and on
the morning of the eighteenth he had the option of dying for want of
food or risking his life among the cliffs and chasms which lay beneath
him and the wide stretch of forest and fertile land visible below.
[Illustration: A NATURAL HIGHWAY.]
"Enfeebled by his privations and trembling with the cold, he crawled
from the hut and began the perilous descent. Slowly he crept forward,
feeling with a stick every foot of the path, hugging closely against the
cliff, standing sometimes on the edge of precipices, where another inch
would have carried him sheer downwards for thousands of feet, cutting a
pathway through the drifts, picking his way over streams covered with
ice that threatened to crumble beneath him, fainting at times from loss
of strength, and lying helpless for minutes which seemed like hours. He
finally passed below the snow-line and reached the smiling valley, where
he found relief.
[Illustration: CUTTING STEPS ALONG THE MOUNTAIN.]
"He tells me that once during this journey he actually slipped over the
edge of a precipice, but caught with his hands on the rock, and saved
himself from death. I drew the story from him with considerable
difficulty, and his face was ashy pale as he narrated his experiences in
those dreadful eighteen days. Since that time no amount of money could
tempt him to venture over the mountains in the season when the
temporales may be expected."
"We halted for the night," continued Frank, "at a hut called Guarda
Vieja, or 'Old Guard,' where we found scanty herbage for the mules and
poor shelter for ourselves. The animals were fed with the last ration of
grain that had been brought for their use. Federico said there was no
further need to keep it, as the next forenoon would take us to an
abundance of food for man and beast. We supped heartily, and rejoiced to
think we should sleep the next night in Santa Rosa, unless prevented by
accident.
"Near this place was the scene of one of the battles in the struggle
which made Chili independent of the mother country. Revolutionists,
under General San Martin, crossed the mountains from the Argentine side,
and were exhausted with the fatigue of their long march and privations,
while the Spaniards were fresh, and had a good position. The battle
resulted in the defeat of the Spaniards, notwithstanding the advantages
in their favor.
"Descending from this point, we found the road in some places a mere
shelf on the side of the mountain, hanging over a furious torrent that
rushes along far below. In one place the sides of the chasm are not more
than fifteen feet apart; this spot is called 'The Soldier's Leap,' and
the tradition is that, in the battle I have just mentioned, one of the
Spanish soldiers escaped from his enemies by springing from one cliff to
the other.
"At one place we crossed a chasm by a suspension bridge that shook
beneath us at every step. When the wind blows up the valley the bridge
sways so much that its passage is absolutely dangerous, and the
traveller must wait till the blast is over. There was just a gentle
breeze when we arrived, and Federico said it was safe enough to venture
across, but we must be careful where we placed our feet.
[Illustration: BRIDGE OF THE APURIMAC.]
"It was almost identical with the bridge of the Apurimac, described by
Mr. Squier in his work on Peru, as it was constructed of the same
materials, and was about one hundred and fifty feet wide. There were
four cables--two of twisted withes of a very tough and flexible plant,
and two of braided rawhide. The latter were smaller than the others, and
served partly for supports and partly to prevent a passenger from going
over the side. The floor is of sticks and canes laid transversely, and
also parallel with the length of the bridge, so that it looks like a
sort of very coarse matting.
[Illustration: LOOKING ACROSS THE BRIDGE.]
"I got down and walked over the bridge, partly through Federico's
advice, but largely from my own inclination. I was uncertain what the
mule might take into his head to accomplish during the transit, and did
not regard it a good place for experiments. But the mules really behaved
admirably; nothing could exceed their docility, and the most antiquated
cart-horse was never more demure than they. A mule knows pretty well
when and where to indulge in hilarity; he realizes that a swaying bridge
a hundred feet above a mountain torrent is not to be used as a
quadrupedal dancing-hall.
"Turning a bend of the road beyond this bridge, we saw, far up a gorge,
a stream that came out of a cavern, like an enormous spring. This is the
one mentioned by Lieutenant Strain as having its source in the 'Lago
Encantada,' or Enchanted Lake, more than a mile away. It was a mystery
for a long time to the Indians, and a puzzle to several scientific
visitors, what became of the water that flowed into the lake, as it had
no apparent outlet. There was evidently a complete closing of the gorge
which formerly drained the lake, by the fall of a vast mass of earth and
rock, through the action of an earthquake; the water forced a
subterranean passage and the mystery was explained. The Indians regard
with awe everything they do not understand, and therefore concluded that
the removal of the water was due to supernatural agencies.
[Illustration: BY THE ROADSIDE.]
"We soon entered a cultivated region, where the warm air was a pleasant
relief to the chilliness of the upper elevations of the mountains. The
descents were rapid, but no longer perilous, the bridges more
substantial, and the roads wider. Grass and trees abounded; farms and
farm-houses dotted the country; signs of population were everywhere
evident; and the perils of our travels among the snow were things of the
past. The houses grew into villages, and finally, just at sunset of the
fifth day of our journey, we drew up in front of the posada at Santa
Rosa and made our last descent from the patient and weary mules.
"Santa Rosa is a long and rather straggling town with about five
thousand inhabitants; like most Spanish-American towns, it has a large
plaza, where the principal business is centred. A noticeable feature of
the place is the stream of pure water, from the mountains, flowing in
nearly every street; it comes from the melting snows of the Andes, and
the supply is unfailing. The plaza was thronged with people when we
arrived, and some of them looked curiously at the stranger within the
gates. There was not the least sign of rudeness, but, on the contrary,
an air of politeness which one does not always find in such an
out-of-the-way spot as this.
[Illustration: COURT-YARD OF THE POSADA.]
"The lodgings of the posada were passable and endurable; they were
excellent by comparison with the casuchas and open air of the mountains,
but when contrasted with a good hotel, in a civilized land, they did not
amount to much. Manuel found me a room which had a bed in it, and also a
table and two rickety chairs. The bed was a rawhide stretched across a
frame, when green, and then allowed to dry, so that it seemed quite as
hard as a pine floor, if not harder. On the rawhide lay a thin mattress
filled with straw; there was a pair of sheets on the bed, but no
pillows, and I sent Manuel in search of some.
"He returned with the announcement that all the pillows in the house
were engaged, but I could have some the next night if I spoke for them
at once. As I was to leave in the morning I declined the engagement,
and used my overcoat and one of my blankets on which to rest my head
during the night.
"At dinner we said farewell to charqui, as the meal consisted of fresh
beef stewed with onions and potatoes, with an abundance of _Chili
Colorado_ (red peppers), followed by one of those mysterious compounds
known as a Spanish omelette. Bread was fresh from the oven, and, though
dark and tough, it was not to be despised; during and after dinner the
maté-pot was produced, and I drank freely of the refreshing beverage. I
slept soundly in spite of dreams of home, Mendoza, the Andes, the
pampas, the Amazon, Fred and the Doctor, and all sorts of things at
once. It was a relief to wake and know exactly where I was.
"Before going to bed I settled with Federico, giving the balance of what
was due him, and making a small present in addition. The train was to
leave at eight o'clock; Manuel called me at six, in time for breakfast,
and with plenty of leisure to reach the station before the advertised
hour.
[Illustration: A PEDLER OF FORAGE.]
"Truth compels me to add that I saw little of the country between Santa
Rosa and Santiago, as I intrusted my ticket to Manuel and slept nearly
all the way. I have an indistinct recollection of glimpses of fig and
orange orchards, farm-houses and villages, vineyards and wheat-fields,
level plains interspersed with rolling or hilly country, and above all
the towering peaks of the Andes, and the lower summits of the
Cordillera. I do not wonder that I slept, as I had a good deal of
fatigue to make up for.
"Santiago, the capital of Chili, with its population of two hundred and
odd thousand, seemed to me like a return to Paris or New York. Here is a
city with broad and regular streets, lighted with gas, lined with
spacious sidewalks, and equipped with horse-railways; with great squares
ornamented with fountains and statues; with hospitals, schools, asylums,
and other public edifices by the dozen and almost by the hundred; with a
great cathedral; with handsome bridges over the river that supplies it
with water; with banks, commercial houses, post and telegraph offices,
insurance companies and other paraphernalia of trade; with a public
library of forty thousand volumes and many rare manuscripts; in a word,
with all the attributes of a great city. From the railway station I went
directly to the hotel, and was welcomed with so much politeness by the
proprietor that I was almost ready to exclaim with Shenstone:
"Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,
Where'er its stages may have been,
Must sigh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome at an inn."
[Illustration: THE ALAMEDA.]
"The Alameda, or promenade, is beautifully shaded, and a favorite resort
of the population. Most of the dwellings are low, on account of
earthquakes, but they are surrounded by spacious court-yards and
furnished with great liberality. The city seems to exist in spite of
disadvantages. It has had numerous earthquakes, many of them disastrous,
in the period covered by its history, and on several occasions it has
suffered from inundations. But it has a delightful climate, the
thermometer averaging 68° in summer and 50° in winter, so that it is
never very warm nor very cold. Heavy and frequent rains fall in winter,
and any one who is not fond of rain should not come here in that season.
"Aside from the earthquakes, and also the wars in which Santiago has
suffered, one of the most tragic days it has ever known was the 8th of
December, 1863. On that day three thousand people, mostly women, were in
the church of La Campania; a cry of fire was raised, and there was a
rush for the outer air. The doors opened inwardly; the assemblage
pressed against them, and no persuasion could induce them to fall back
and allow the doors to be swung on their hinges. Panic-stricken, they
crowded forward; the fire increased; suffocating smoke filled the place;
and two thirds of that three thousand were burned, trampled, or
smothered to death. The memory of that terrible day is still fresh in
the minds of the people, and will be long preserved.
"I rode past the church where this calamity occurred, but did not care
to enter it, as there was nothing interesting in its architecture, and I
have no feeling of morbid curiosity. I was more interested in the
streets and the houses, the long rows of tall poplars that lined the
streets, and the flower-gardens visible at almost every step. The poplar
was introduced from Mendoza; the inhabitants say that along with the
poplar came the goitre, as not a case of the disease was known until the
exotic shade-trees were planted and began their growth in their new
home.
[Illustration: A STREET SCENE.]
"In the middle hours of the day I found the streets almost deserted, but
they are busy enough in the morning and towards sunset. Daybreak brings
a crowd of peons from the country with vegetables, fruit, chickens,
milk, and other edibles for sale; their shouting is loud and continuous,
as they cry their wares from house to house or walk up and down the
market-places. A great quantity of freshly cut _alfalfa_ (a variety of
clover) is brought from the country and sold for feeding stock. It is
piled on the back of mule or horse so that the animal is completely
covered; you might easily imagine yourself looking at a haycock which
had suddenly acquired the power of locomotion. There are droves of
pack-mules; trains of carts with their wheels cut from a log, and
creaking as if in dire distress; priests in sombre black, and men and
women in variegated garments, all combining to form an animated picture.
As the sun rises above the Andes and ascends in the heavens the crowd
thins away, and long before noon there is an almost painful air of
stillness over the whole scene.
"Santiago lies in a valley between two ranges of the Andes chain, and
about eighteen hundred feet above the level of the sea. Consequently it
has both sunrise and sunset over the mountains; the former on the great
range and the latter over the western Cordillera. There is an
interesting period of the sunset--beginning when the city first comes
under the shadow of the western mountains, and ending when the last rays
leave the snow-capped mountain peaks in the east. The colors of the
rainbow are perceptible in a sunset under favorable conditions; the
tints change with the shadow, and we have yellow, vermilion, violet,
green, purple, and other hues, in succession and combination, closing
with a bright blaze and halo from the crests of the mountains. The last
light of day comes reflected from these mountains in the east, and not
from the west, where we are accustomed to see it in other cities and in
other parts of the globe. Nature seems to be reversed in this most
southerly capital of the continent.
"I found the markets not unlike those of Lima. The products of two zones
are attainable in this Andean situation, though there are fewer tropical
fruits and vegetables than in the capital of Peru. There are
strawberries, grapes, figs, peaches, pears, quinces, apples, nectarines,
cherries, apricots, plums, oranges, lemons, citrons, and chirimoyas--the
latter far inferior to those of Lima. The fruits mostly in demand and
largely consumed are water-melons and musk-melons; both are delicious,
and grow to a great size, and they are as cheap as they are good.
"But I fear I shall weary you with this description of the city, and,
besides, I must be moving to Valparaiso to meet the steamer bringing Dr.
Bronson and Fred. The time-table says the voyage occupies twelve days;
it is now ten days since I saw them leave Buenos Ayres, and to-morrow
will be the eleventh day. To-morrow I will go to Valparaiso by the
railway; it is a ride of four hours, or perhaps five, if the train is
not in a hurry, and then I can get everything in readiness to welcome
them to the soil of Chili."
Frank went by the train the next morning, and soon after noon he arrived
at the seaport. He found a bustling, active city, with a population of
more than one hundred thousand, of whom less than three fourths were
native Chilians. According to the statistics Valparaiso contains 15,000
German inhabitants, 7000 British, 4000 French, 2000 Italians, and 500
Americans, and a great deal more than half its commerce is in foreign
hands.
The city is on a bay which opens towards the north so capaciously that
it was formerly swept by all winds from between north-northeast and
west-northwest; ships anchored with springs on their cables, and were
ready to put to sea at any moment to avoid the chance of being driven on
shore. A mole, which was incomplete at the time of Frank's visit, gives
more security, and when finished will make a fairly good harbor for
Valparaiso.
The name of the city indicates "Vale of Paradise," but Frank was unable
to see where the appearances justified such a pleasing title. The bay is
bordered by rugged hills, that, for more than half of the distance
around the semicircular beach, leave only room enough for a single row
of houses near the water. The fronts of some of these hills are so
steep that you may almost step to them from the back windows of the
upper stories of the dwellings.
Facing the other half of the bay is a triangular plain of sand, formed
by the _débris_ of the streams flowing from the hills, and the washings
of the surf on the shore. The city is built on this sand, along the
narrow beach, and up the sides and over the tops of the hills. It
forcibly suggests a struggle for position where nature is in a repellent
mood.
"Valparaiso makes me think of Algiers," wrote Frank in his note-book,
"but I miss the grand archways of the _Boulevard de la République_ and
the old castle which once sheltered the Dey and held his treasures. I
think of Beyrout, with the Lebanon range in the background, but the
Lebanon is dwarfed almost to insignificance by the mighty Andes; I think
of Quebec, but the heights of Abraham and the walls of the old-time
stronghold of France in America are not faithfully reproduced; and,
finally, I remember Gibraltar, nestling at the base of the famous
'Rock.' There is a resemblance to all these places, but when we study
Valparaiso in detail we find many points of difference.
"Valparaiso has suffered from earthquakes; twice it has been nearly
destroyed by them, and there is hardly a week in the year without a
shock. For this reason the houses are mostly of one or two stories,
especially in the resident portion, and every inhabitant is ready to
flee to the open air at a moment's warning. I don't want to become a
permanent dweller in this city until earthquakes are done away with."
[Illustration: CUSTOMS GUARD-HOUSE, VALPARAISO.]
The city has theatres and churches, schools and hospitals, a
custom-house and a government palace, great warehouses for the reception
and storage of goods, street railways, gas, steam fire-engines, fine
shops, poor hotels, and a fairly good police system. It has a large and
increasing commerce, and is destined to grow in wealth and grandeur as
time goes on, unless the earthquakes make an end of it--a contingency
not pleasant to contemplate. It was bombarded by the Spanish fleet in
1866, and, though few lives were lost, there was an immense destruction
of property, of which nine tenths belonged to foreign merchants.
[Illustration: SPANISH-AMERICAN COSTUMES.]
About three o'clock on the afternoon of the day following Frank's
arrival the flag on the custom-house signalled the approach of the
English steamer. Our young traveller, accompanied by Manuel, engaged a
boat, and as the great ship came to her anchorage he was rowed
alongside, and exchanged greetings with his old companions and friends.
We will now make a flying leap over the Andes, and accompany Dr. Bronson
and his nephew in their voyage from Buenos Ayres through the Strait of
Magellan.