LA ESTANCIA ESPERANZA.
We rode quietly along, for we had about twelve and a half leagues in
front of us, until we reached our journey's end. "Napoleon" appeared
quite happy; not the least upset by the prospect of a change in his
surroundings. I had brought some cold meat and biscuit, and a little
coffee and sugar, so that we might enjoy a light meal between eleven and
twelve o'clock, and also let the horses rest and graze for a while. We
made a little fire by the side of the track, and then sat down until our
coffee got warm. After that, we made good progress, so that we arrived
at La Esperanza about three o'clock in the afternoon, where I received a
very kind welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Jardine, who were at home at the
time. When I had unsaddled, the former told me to turn my three horses
into a large paddock, enclosed with wire fencing, where he said they
would be all right. Justiniano, however, kept his grey, and tethered him
out for the night, so that he could then get it early next morning, when
he was to return to the Cerro. Mr. Jardine's house was both roomy and
comfortable. It stood facing a picturesque river, less than half a mile
distant, with woods on either bank. In front was a wide verandah, which
also went further back in the middle, thus dividing the house, as it
were, into two wings, united at the back by bedrooms, which lay behind.
As you entered Mr. and Mrs. Jardine's apartments were on the right, and
a large dining-room, with a kitchen and sundry outbuildings attached,
lay to the left. Quite at the far end of the house to the right stood a
high tower, with a comfortable sitting-room below, and a bedroom above.
Beyond this again was a flower garden, with numerous fruit trees, and
this joined on to another garden at the back, where both flowers and
vegetables abundantly flourished. In front of the verandah, looking
towards the river, was a wide open space. A brick house, with its roof
of red tiles, a storehouse, and an office stood fairly removed on the
right, while further away in front was a "galpon," or woolshed, with
ranchos for employees adjoining, but these latter were at the same time
so situate as not in any way to incommode the house itself, neither did
they shut off the view of the woods and river beyond. Mr. James Jardine,
or Don Diego, as he was mostly called, was a thin spare man, of middle
height, and something over forty years of age. He was a great sportsman,
and devoted to shooting; indeed, during the winter months he occupied
himself in scarcely any other way. He really took but little interest in
the work of the estancia, as he left this to his managing partner, Mr.
Alexander Maclean, otherwise known as Don Alejandro, who, at the time of
my arrival, was away in Monte Video, but was expected to return in about
a fortnight. Mrs. Jardine was not very strong; she usually had her
sister, Miss Denman, living with her, who, at the time I came, was away
on a visit. There were two little boys, one five years old, called
Peter, and the other two and a half, whose name was John. They were
altogether a very happy family, greatly preferring the freedom of the
camp to the conventions of town life.
The Estancia Esperanza comprised somewhere about eleven thousand acres,
but within this area were included three or four "banyados," or small
lakes, and a certain amount of land, which was often covered with water
during wet weather, but affording at the same time very useful
pasturage. There were twelve hundred head of cattle, and a "manada" of
mares and colts, beside something over thirteen thousand sheep. These
were distributed at five puestos, more or less two thousand and five
hundred at each, while perhaps five hundred fed at the estancia itself.
Both cattle and sheep were each under the charge of a "capataz," or
foreman, who carried on all work connected with them, the sheep being
under the superintendence of a Scotchman, named John Gordon, and the
cattle and horses of a native, who would then be more than fifty years
of age. His name was Ramon Duran, a first-rate camp man, who knew his
business thoroughly. Owing to the war, which had so recently ended, the
estancia was short of riding horses. Mr. Jardine was much surprised when
I told him I had succeeded in saving mine, for he had nearly had to part
with the only horse he ever really cared to ride, a good-looking
"rosillo alazan," or chestnut roan; indeed, he said it was more good
luck than any care and management on his part which had enabled him to
keep him. Meanwhile, all was well, he said, which ended well. Spring was
now coming on, and September came in fine and warm. I went for a ride
round the estancia, and came back along the bank of the river. It was
pleasant riding here, and I could well imagine that later on in the
summer the flowering creepers would be very beautiful. As I passed, it
was drawing on to sunset; I noted the cry of a "carpincho," or
water-pig, whom I had suddenly disturbed, while the shrill call of the
"pteru-pteru," or plover, made itself heard on the plain beyond; and a
flight of water-fowl, among whom I noticed a white egret crane, came
quickly swooping down at the side of some marshy land, mostly covered
with reeds, where doubtless they had their home. When I again reached
the house I was glad to find my box and portmanteau had arrived, a
cartman who was returning to La Esperanza having come across them at the
Hotel Oriental in San Jose, and brought them along in his cart.
"Napoleon" had already found a corner in the verandah, underneath the
tower, in which to sleep. He was a very good-tempered dog, and I had no
fear that he would be at all likely in any way to alarm the children.
Next morning I walked down to the corral, to see the riding horses
brought up, a good many of which had evidently been left by soldiers
during the war. During the next couple of weeks the flocks from the
puestos were being passed through the sheepyards at the estancia; the
lambs had to be marked, and various matters attended to. I also went to
my first "para rodeo" of the cattle. We had horses tied up the night
before, and made an early start. I rode my rosillo, and went with Ramon
Duran to the far end of the estancia, looking towards the river Plate.
It was a beautiful morning, and the air was delightful as we galloped
along. I soon perceived the cattle were well in hand. They came up very
well to the "rodeo," and were easy to keep there. The first fortnight in
October proved very fine and warm. Meanwhile, Miss Denman had returned,
as also had Mr. Alexander Maclean, from Monte Video. I found him to be a
big, burly, and apparently good-natured looking Scotchman. He proposed
that I should take charge of the accounts, and also lend a hand in the
ordinary routine work of the estancia. He took me into the office and
shewed me the books, explaining how they had been kept. I had hitherto
been occupying one of the bedrooms opening on the garden, which lay
behind the house, but I now moved up into the bedroom above the tower.
This was very agreeable, for there was a splendid look-out from either
of the two windows, and I could imagine what it would appear on some
clear night in summer, when a full moon was shining, the heat of the
day over, and you could gaze far and wide in every direction, beyond
lake and wood, and river, away to the distant horizon, which alone would
appear to end the undulating plains of Uruguay. There was a very nice
American wagonette at the estancia. It had four wheels, and was fitted
with a pole, and drawn by a pair of small bay horses, with flowing manes
and tails. Their brown harness was both light and strong, with brass
mountings, so that altogether it was really a very pretty turn-out. A
young Scotchman, who acted as coachman, sat in front, while those inside
sat facing each other behind. When the weather permitted, Mrs. Jardine
much enjoyed a drive down to Beatty's puesto, which was at the far end
of the estancia, and she liked to take her sister and the children with
her. Accordingly, one afternoon, they all made a start, inviting me to
go with them. So I mounted "Carnival," whom I happened to have caught
up, and "Napoleon" went with us. There were one or two wide tracks
leading from La Esperanza, on either side of it, which had developed
into quite respectable roads for driving on. Partly from having been
beaten down by carts, and partly from the nature of the soil, they
seemed to have caked down quite hard and firm, so that ruts and bad
places were few, and the carriage was able to pass smoothly and easily
along. Mrs. Beatty was a nice woman, with an engaging manner. She had
two children, Susan, a little girl of nine, and David, a fine little
fellow of five. She had unfortunately lost her eldest boy, who would now
have been about fourteen, a little more than a year ago, owing to an
accident with a horse, which had kicked him and seriously hurt him
internally. This was a great grief to his mother; his name was Robert,
and he had come out with his parents from Scotland. Mrs. Beatty welcomed
us warmly when we arrived. It made quite a small picnic for the
children, for she always insisted on their staying to have tea and some
of the nice little Scotch cakes she made. So we took the horses out of
the carriage, and tied them up under the "euremada," for the sun was now
getting to be quite hot after mid-day. Beatty himself was a quiet,
rather solemn-looking man, with a red complexion, and sandy-coloured
hair. It was pleasant as we returned in the late afternoon, and as we
passed along, we saw one of the blue silver foxes some distance ahead of
us, already come out of his lair, preparing for an evening stroll. We
made too much noise for him, however, and he soon made off, followed in
full chase by "Napoleon," but naturally to no purpose. The sun was fast
declining when we reached the estancia; however, I was pleased to hear
both the ladies and children tell Mr. Jardine, who was in the verandah,
they had enjoyed their drive, and had all of them spent a very pleasant
afternoon. The next morning we had a heavy thunderstorm, with sharp and
continuous flashes of lightning, which lasted upwards of an hour, and
was then followed by torrential rain. This went on the greater part of
the day.
Shearing began on the tenth of November. There was only a small gang of
six professional shearers employed. The remainder were made up of
natives living in the neighbourhood, of which there were a good many,
who not only could shear well, but had been accustomed to come year
after year. The "galpon" was not nearly so large as that at the Cerro,
in fact the room available was if anything too restricted for the number
of sheep which had to be shorn. More time, therefore, was needed to
complete the business. On November 20th a spell of bad weather set in
which caused delay, as the sheep naturally were wet and could not easily
be got dry again. However, a week later it cleared up, and after that
work progressed satisfactorily. The shearers were very quiet, and
orderly, and although they did not shear very fast, they did their work
well. The month of December, however, was half through before the
shearing was completed, and the shearers, having received the money due
to them, finally took their departure. No festivities took place, as was
so often customary at the end of shearing, but it was generally
understood that a race or something of the kind would be held later on,
probably on one of the days between Christmas and the New Year. John
Gordon, the "capataz" of the sheep, had a nice bay horse, about five
years old, belonging to himself, which had been born and grown up, and
also been tamed on the estancia. His owner considered him to be
something of a racer; indeed, had so high an opinion of him, I really
believed him to think he would easily run away from anything likely to
be put against him. When some talk was taking place about having a race
one evening at dinner, I said I should not mind matching my old "saino"
against Gordon's bay, provided the distance was anything over a mile.
Don Alejandro told Gordon what I had said, and he was quite willing to
ride his horse against mine, and as it happened we were both just about
an equal weight. I had seen the bay several times, a good-looking horse,
with a white star on his forehead, and two white hind fetlocks, and I
reflected I had probably made a mistake in putting my "saino" against
him. However, as the race was only to be for prizes given by Mr. Jardine
and Don Alejandro, and there was to be no betting between Gordon and
myself, nor indeed did I intend to bet with anyone else, I did not see
any harm would be done, and if it gave any pleasure to the people on the
estancia to see a bit of a gallop, all I had to say was I hoped they
would enjoy the amusement of it, and that the best horse would win. The
time being so short, it was obvious nothing could be done in regard to
training either horse, beyond giving him half a dozen gallops or so,
just to clear his wind; and it was agreed that both horses should run
the race as they were, without giving them any maize or special
preparation. The "saino" had improved a good bit in condition since he
came to La Esperanza. A rest had done him good, especially as to his
forelegs, which I felt sure had been a bit shaken. He had also got his
summer coat, and this added to his appearance. We now knew the distance
was to be a mile and a quarter, on the track leading from the estancia
towards Beatty's puesto, and the finish was to end as close to the
_former_ as possible. I caught the "saino" up for three hours every day,
and gave him a brush over, and saw to his feet, taking him out for a
gentle canter, and every other day I gave him a gallop on the course,
but not at full speed; in fact, I only put him to this twice until the
day of the race arrived, and then for not more than a quarter of a mile
at a time. Gordon did much the same with his bay, only while I rode my
horse late in the afternoon, he rode his early in the morning, when
no-one was much about to see how he performed. New Year's Day was
appointed for the race to be run, at three o'clock in the afternoon, the
day being, of course, a holiday. There was a pretty general feeling at
the estancia that the bay horse would win, and the odds were greatly in
his favour. I knew, of course, that bets would be made on the race. I
never knew a race in South America when they were not, but beyond the
prizes that were given, I myself, as I have before mentioned, did not
stand to win anything. These were to be an excellent English saddle and
bridle complete, and a breech-loading revolver, of a good make, with a
box containing a hundred cartridges to fit. New Year's Day proved fine
and still; the sun shone from a blue sky, interspersed here and there
with light "cirrus" cloud, but the air was fresh and cool, so it was not
too hot; just the day, indeed, for everyone to enjoy a holiday. News of
the race, of course, got about, and I was told that some natives who
were interested in racing were coming to look on, probably inspired by
curiosity to see how the Englishmen managed it. As Gordon and I rode
quietly down, soon after half-past two o'clock, to the starting point,
there seemed quite a little crowd gathering where the finish was to take
place. Two friends of Gordon came with us to see us off. The start was
quickly made, neither horse giving the slightest trouble. The bay took
the lead from the first, and made the running throughout, the "saino"
being in close attendance. When, however, we were about three hundred
yards from the finish, and I fancied the bay seemed flagging a little,
for I saw that Gordon was using his whip, I also made a call upon the
"saino" which he immediately answered, and stretching himself out, shot
forward like an arrow from a bow, winning easily by a couple of lengths.
The natives at once came to inspect the winner, and one, who seemed
somewhat of a principal man among them, asked me if I would like to part
with him, offering me forty dollars for him. I asked him if he was
buying him to keep or to sell again, and also if he would be sure and
treat him all right. He promised to keep him, and to do this, so we rode
back to the estancia. I unsaddled the "saino," the man paid me over the
forty dollars, and he then took the horse straight away with him. I knew
if I refused the offer, that it would not probably be very long before
the old "saino" would be missing, for I had noticed one or two natives
present, men who did not look too particular, shewing a somewhat
peculiar interest in the horse, now they had seen how he could gallop.
As a matter of fact, I had no real fancy for racing, and I thought it
better to pass on the "saino" to an owner who did like it, and to a man
who evidently appreciated the horse's good qualities, and would
therefore be likely to take good care of him. I happened to hear of him
again some time later from a man I met casually. He told me the horse
had done a good bit of racing in a quiet way, and had been quite
successful, and had done well for his new owner, so that he also would
probably continue to do well by him. I received many congratulations
upon the result of the race, and it seemed to be the general opinion
that the native, when he bought the "saino" from me, got very good value
for his money. In the middle of January the weather became very hot, and
this lasted a little over a fortnight, and then came a succession of
thunderstorms, with severe lightning, which rapidly cooled the air. I
watched one of these with much interest about 9 p.m. through the windows
of my room above the tower. Just an ordinary display of nature's
fireworks, but how grand they were! as the vivid flashes shot like
rockets in every direction through the overheated atmosphere of a summer
in the Southern Hemisphere.
Meantime, Mr. Jardine had received a letter from a Mr. Treherne, a
friend of his residing in Buenos Aires, saying he purposed coming up to
Monte Video for a little rest and change, and that if it were possible
he should very much like to see him. Thereupon, he at once wrote
inviting him to come and spend a few days at La Esperanza, and he asked
him to fix his own day to travel to San Jose in the diligence, and to
let us know, so that we might send in to meet him. Accordingly word came
to expect him on February 4th, so I went in with a boy, mounted on a
chestnut, and a nice little grey horse belonging to the estancia, and
"Carnival" to welcome him. I also had a little business to arrange at
the Policia, and I wanted if possible to have a short interview with the
chief of police. So we started just before three o'clock, arriving at
the Hotel Oriental not long before the diligence was expected. When it
came it brought Mr. Treherne with it. He was rather a delicate-looking
man, getting on towards fifty, his hair fast turning grey, and with the
manner of the student rather than the man of affairs. He had only
brought light luggage in a pair of canvas saddle bags, which the boy
could easily sling across his "recado." I got him a comfortable bedroom
at the hotel, and a smaller one for myself. We then had dinner. At eight
o'clock next morning, I went to the police station, transacted my
business, and before leaving was fortunate in obtaining ten minutes'
conversation with the chief of police, a tall, grizzled-looking man, who
was, however, very courteous, and polite. I had two or three small
commissions to attend to for Mrs. Jardine, and some medicine to get at
the chemist's for John, and then, having partaken of coffee and bread
and butter, we were all ready for a start at half-past nine. I asked Mr.
Treherne which horse he would prefer to ride, "Carnival" or the grey. He
preferred the former, and we were soon jogging along through the
outskirts of the town. My companion was not much of a horseman, but
"Carnival" knew his business, and carried him smoothly and easily along;
he was fortunately very safe on his legs, and knew well how to pick his
way over rough ground; indeed, all the rider need do was to sit quiet
and hold the reins, for "Carnival" himself would do all the rest.
Mr. Treherne expressed great pleasure at seeing Mr. and Mrs. Jardine
again, telling them he had a capital journey, and that the beautiful air
of the open country, as he rode along, had given him quite an appetite
for luncheon. He was very fond of plants and flowers, and, indeed,
something of a botanist as well. During his stay he expressed a wish to
see the coastline and shores of La Plata, and said how greatly he would
enjoy an expedition there some fine day, when it was not too hot. Mr.
Jardine could not accompany him, but he asked me to do so, and we
arranged for an early start, as the shore of the estuary lay a good long
way beyond the furthest point of the estancia in that direction, so that
going there and back made a certain distance to ride. I again offered
him "Carnival," as he seemed to like him so much, and I rode a bay horse
belonging to the estancia.
When we got beyond our own camp we passed through a kind of open wood
with thinly-scattered "tala" trees. These were not large, much in shape
of a prickly shrub, although on or near the banks of a river these trees
grew much larger, and their wood was greatly used both for fencing and
firewood. As we progressed the soil got poorer, until at last we came to
what were really sand-dunes.
These were undulating, and of large extent, and as we passed along my
companion noticed every here and there rather a deep dell, with shrubs
growing in it. Here the sand was deep, so we dismounted and led our
horses, and leaving his with me, and going down into one of these, he
was surprised to find it quite bright with flowers, "Petunias," and
"Lantana," whose improved relations, he said, were great favourites in
English gardens. We then were able to remount our horses, and so
proceeded slowly on to the shore of the Estuary de la Plata. Here the
outlook was most attractive. Nothing, not even a sail, visible on the
wide waters, shining like silver in the sunshine on that early summer
afternoon. A wide expanse of sand like the sea-shore stretched east and
west, golden in colour, and hard and firm to ride on. Bordering this,
along the edge of the dunes, were a row of large cacti, the kind you
see in flower-pots in England, but here ten to fifteen feet high, with
beautiful crimson blossoms in full bloom, hanging in profusion on the
edge of their pendant branches. Here we unsaddled and tied up the horses
beneath their shade. I soon had a fire lighted to keep off the flies,
and also to warm some coffee I had brought with us. Our luncheon, too,
was welcome, and we enjoyed it greatly. After a rest and a smoke we
again saddled up, and had a good gallop on the sands, which the horses
seemed to enjoy every bit as much as we did. We returned by a somewhat
different route, turning towards the river bank, and following it during
the latter portion of our ride. When crossing the camp, I pointed out
the patches of verbena, some scarlet and some white, which in places
quite covered the short grass, looking very bright and pretty. We now
kept close to the woods, but the undergrowth was too thick and tangled
to allow anyone easily to get inside. Mr. Treherne was much interested
to see quite large trees apparently covered with flowers, but on nearer
approach he found they did not belong to the tree itself, but were the
blossoms of a creeper, which completely enveloped it. Some of them were
quite brilliant in colour, in marked contrast to the festoons of grey
lichen moss, which hung from other trees in close proximity. He
dismounted and succeeded in getting some semi-tropical orchids, which it
gave him pleasure to take back with him. We were also fortunate in
seeing a family of the "carpincho," or water-pig; a mother and her
little ones. They were a pretty brown colour, with thick, somewhat
bristly coats, in form like a large guinea-pig, with short legs, and
webbed feet. On hearing us they all sprang into the river, and swam
hurriedly away, their heads only showing above the water. When taken
young they make rather amusing pets, and become very affectionate and
domesticated, though at the same time they will occasionally go down and
join their wild companions for a swim in the river, provided it be near
enough, returning back to the house afterwards.
The summer's day was drawing to its close as we rode up to the estancia,
unsaddled the horses, and let them go. When Mr. Treherne took his
departure I lent him "Carnival," and accompanied him to San Jose. We
arrived during the afternoon and, as I had some business to attend to, I
left him at the hotel to rest after his ride. I also took the
opportunity of calling upon Colonel Gonzales, who was then in residence
at a house he owned in the town. A tall, aristocratic-looking man,
descended from one of the old Spanish families, who had originally
colonised Uruguay, he was now a widower with two daughters, the
Senoritas Augusta and Isabella. The former resembled her father, having
a somewhat pensive expression, a clear, pale complexion, and dark hair.
She had a quiet, gentle manner, and her sister was wont to describe her
as "muy religiosa" (very religious). She herself, on the contrary, was
vivacious, and amusing, with brown hair and a bright complexion. I was
accorded a kind and friendly reception by the colonel, who said he hoped
when again in the town I should not fail to come and see them. Soon
after I got back to the hotel we saw the arrival of the diligence from
Paysandu; this was always an event in the day, and it was timed to start
before six o'clock next morning for Monte Video. The horses were quickly
taken out, and the passengers emerged, weary and hungry, and entered the
hotel. Then dinner was served, when we were fortunate in securing a
small table beside one of the large windows opening on the street to
ourselves. We then had some coffee and a cigarette, and afterwards
walked out to listen to the band which played in the "plaza" when the
evening was warm enough. The musicians occupied a small stand in the
centre, around which the audience walked on a wide path, or sat about on
seats or chairs, as seemed most convenient. Just opposite to the "plaza"
stood the Cathedral. The moon was shining brightly, and here and there
an officer in uniform, or some other "caballero" in close attendance
upon a Senorita wearing the very becoming "mantilla," added to the
picturesqueness of the scene. Returning to the hotel, we went to bed,
for we had to be up early in the morning, when I duly saw Mr. Treherne,
together with his belongings, take his seat in the diligence, and with
many thanks for the little I had been able to do for him, he bid me
farewell, saying he hoped at some future time he might have the pleasure
of seeing me again at his home in Buenos Aires. Among the usual loud
exclamations and cracking of whips, the diligence then started, and was
soon out of sight in a cloud of dust, as it rolled and swung forward on
its long journey. I then mounted "Carnival" and led a bay horse I had
been riding, and although travelling somewhat slowly, reached the
estancia a little before ten o'clock. During the next week I received a
letter from the wounded Colonel Antonio Martinez, saying he had taken
office in the new Blanco Government, and was now living in Monte Video.
He gave me his new address, and told me that if he could do anything for
me, and I would write and let him know, it would give him great
pleasure. I accordingly wrote and thanked him for his letter and his
kind thought, and told him I was no longer living at the Cerro del
Pichinango, but was now at La Estancia Esperanza, some six leagues
distant from the town of San Jose. Thereupon, shortly afterwards, I
received another letter from him, saying he had a great friend, Don
Carlos Mendoza, the recently appointed "Gefe Politico" (or Governour of
the Department), and that he had written to give me an introduction to
him, and to say that he had asked me to call upon him at his residence
in San Jose the next time I happened to find myself in the town. I wrote
and thanked him, expressing my gratitude, and saying it would give me
great pleasure to avail myself of an opportunity which he had been so
very good as to propose. We were now getting well on towards the end of
March, and the weather was much cooler, but fine and pleasant, as is so
often the case during the early autumn. About ten days later, two young
brothers, Elliott by name, turned up at La Esperanza, about an hour
before sundown. They were riding out from Monte Video to a small
estancia belonging to a friend in the province of Colonia. They had a
peon with them, who was leading an extra horse, and who was also engaged
to act as guide, and they had ridden on that day from an estancia about
twelve leagues distant, inside where they had been put up for the night,
such being in these old-fashioned times a very common custom when
travelling through the country. Seeing that they hailed from across the
border, and that Don Alejandro and Mr. Jardine both happened to know
something of their people at home, they were not only made welcome for
the night, but were invited to stay until the beginning of the week
following, so that they could rest their horses, see something of the
estancia, and then proceed on their journey. They were in appearance one
very like the other, with fair hair, blue eyes, and youthful, rosy,
complexions. They had only lately landed in Monte Video, and after
learning farming for a couple of years in the south of Scotland, had
come out to Uruguay, having between them a moderate capital, with the
intention of renting land, purchasing sheep and cattle, and so setting
up as estancieros in a small way. There was only apparently about two
years difference in their age; indeed, it would be difficult to surmise
which was the elder. They had come out full of ideas and of hope for the
future, being but little aware that the experience they might have had
on the land at home would be of but little use to them in Uruguay,
seeing what kind of a country it then was. But they were evidently a
pair of cheery happy-go-lucky young fellows, and as I looked at them at
dinner, and listened to their pleasant and interesting conversation, I
could not help wondering what was destined to be their future. That
evening, it was a Thursday, we were all smoking in the dining-room, when
the talk turned upon the native method of taming young horses. Not
thinking of its being taken seriously, I happened to say that I should
not mind mounting a "potro," but I dare not say how long I should stay
on his back. "Bravo! Don Guillermo," said Don Alejandro, with a laugh,
"you shall mount one. We will have one tied up to-morrow afternoon, and
you shall give him his first gallop on Saturday morning." I felt
somewhat disconcerted, but did not like to draw back, and so it was
arranged, and not long afterwards we all retired to rest. Accordingly, a
portion of the "manada" was driven up into the corral, and with them was
a colt, which must have been nearly six years old, of a muddly roan
colour, with a flowing mane and tail, which had seldom come up before,
having never been touched since he was marked late as a foal. A lasso
was quickly thrown round his neck, and another round his hind legs, and
falling helpless to the ground, a halter was put over his head and made
fast with a stout thong of hide to a firm post. This would be about an
hour before sundown, and here he had to remain during the night. This
rough and ready treatment in handling a colt was quite a novelty to the
two young men, who had never even imagined anything of the sort, and I
feel sure they were looking forward with both interest and amusement to
his having his first gallop on the next morning. I looked him over as he
was being tied up, and came to the conclusion he was probably a bit of a
tartar, although, as is well-known, appearances are often deceptive. Of
course, the news of what was to happen became known, and about ten
o'clock on Saturday morning, nearly everyone seemed on the look-out to
see me start off. When we came to fix my "recado" he gave but little
trouble, although I noticed he seemed sulky, with a nasty sullen look
out of the corner of his eyes. He was now led away outside the
buildings, where all four legs were tied together by a long hide thong,
in such a manner that by giving one pull it all became instantly undone
and fell to the ground. I now mounted, Ramon Duran coming on his horse
alongside as "padrino," to accompany me, and help to guide the horse. A
native pulled loose the leg-ropes, and I was at last ready for a start.
The colt stood still a moment, wondering what had happened, and then
made a violent plunge forward and started buck-jumping with all his
might. He seemed to bend himself almost double, with his head and legs
nearly touching underneath. I sat on for a time, while the bucking
process continued, and then he threw me clean over his head, but I fell
clear of him, and at once got up from the ground, none the worse for the
fall. After getting my breath, I got on him again, with Ramon Duran
close alongside me, but he again started buck-jumping, even more
violently than before. I kept my seat until I felt my legs quite numb
with the continued strain, and then I suddenly let loose the slight hold
I had and came off a yard or two away on my feet. So I felt comforted;
for this, even among the Indians, did not count as a fall. Ramon said he
was "un diablo ungobernable" (an ungovernable devil), and urged me not
to mount him again, but so soon as my legs had regained their feeling I
persisted in doing so. This time he tried it on, but not so severely,
and I managed to hold tight, punishing him at the same time with my
"rebenque," or hide whip. I thus got him into a gallop straight ahead,
Ramon following as close as he could behind, and with the open camp in
front of me, I kept him at it until he completely succumbed, and in fact
would now go any way I wished. For the moment he had enough, and I rode
him back to the estancia, past the buildings and the people, who had
gathered to see the fun, right up in front of the house. I received
quite a small ovation, it was anyway very much more than the occasion
deserved. I then dismounted, and the colt was collared to a mare, so
that he could feed, and be got hold of easily again when wanted. The two
Mr. Elliotts, who I am sure were very good-natured, both told me how
pleased they were I had come to no harm, thanking me, and saying that
what they had seen was quite a revelation to them. The end of it was
that they all drank my health that evening at dinner, and next morning
Mr. Jardine instructed the carpenter to cut out a round medal from a
piece of lead with my initials on it, which was duly presented to me.
Indeed, I believe I possess it somewhere or other to this day.
On Monday morning the Elliotts resumed their journey towards Colonia,
having, I am sure, enjoyed their little visit, and we all felt pleased
to have been able to entertain them. The autumn had now come, and Mr.
Jardine was beginning to think about his shooting, and looking over the
guns and ammunition. The season had been a favourable one, partridges,
or rather quail, were already getting into good condition, and it would
not be long before the duck-shooting commenced. In shooting "quail," the
custom was for two or three sportsmen to walk in a line, about fifty
yards apart, and so catch the birds as they rose in front of them from
the long grass, where they lay concealed. They were fairly plentiful,
and, if the birds rose well, as they often did, afforded good sport,
although to make a good bag often involved a fair amount of walking. Don
Alejandro was fond of shooting, besides being well above an average
shot. I sometimes made up a third and, although the same could certainly
not be said of me, yet sometimes I was more successful than I had any
reason to expect. Mr. Jardine liked to shoot two or three days a week
during the winter, so that opportunity to improve was not lacking. The
quail, although inferior both in size and flavour to an English
partridge, were a pleasant change of diet, and made an excellent curry,
both for breakfast or dinner, a dish which was always much appreciated.
A few days later, poor little Peter contracted a somewhat severe chill,
and as on the next day he seemed worse rather than better, and his
mother was anxious about him, I offered to ride in to San Jose to get
him a supply of medicine, and also to execute some other little
commissions which were needed, so I saddled up "Carnival" soon after
mid-day and reached the town a little before four o'clock. I finished
the shopping I had to do, and then took the opportunity of making my
call upon Don Carlos Mendoza, the new Gefe Politico at his town
residence, facing the "plaza," or square. On reaching the house, I sent
in my name, and was at once admitted. Don Carlos received me in his own
room, and as I entered rose to greet me, and expressed his pleasure at
making my acquaintance. He was a short man, apparently about forty years
of age with an alert manner, and a very pleasant expression. "Colonel
Antonio Martinez wrote to me about you," he said with a smile. "He is
'muy amigo mio,' 'a great friend of mine,' and is now holding a rather
important appointment in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs." After a few
minutes' conversation, he took me into the "sala," where he presented me
to his Senora, a stately-looking lady, who, I afterwards learned, was a
member of one of the oldest Spanish families in Monte Video. Five
minutes later a pretty-looking girl, who might be about fourteen,
entered the room. The Senora said, "This is my daughter, Carmen, and I
have a son Alfonso, who is younger, and is now away at school." Don
Carlos appeared to be well-acquainted with Europe, having been educated
in Paris and Madrid, and both he and his wife had paid more than one
visit to the French Riviera. The Senora asked me how I liked South
America, and I told her very much, but added, "You see this is the only
year of peace I have known since I came out from England, three years
and a half ago." Meanwhile, coffee and cakes were brought in, and some
delicious liqueur, and half an hour later I made my adieux. Don Carlos
said I must certainly call and see them again, and asking me if I was a
smoker remarked, "Here is a cigar from Habana for you," and accompanying
me to the door, shook hands, saying, "Hasta la vista, Senor" (until we
meet again).
On reaching the hotel, I had some dinner, and much enjoyed the Habana
cigar, which I knew to be too good a one to light and smoke in the open
street. I went early to bed, with the request that they would call me at
sunrise next morning. This they did, having also prepared me some
coffee. So I saddled up "Carnival," and reached the estancia just before
nine o'clock. I was pleased to hear from Mr. Jardine that Peter was
better, having fortunately passed a good night. One afternoon I and
Ramon Duran had ridden down to look up some cattle not far from Beatty's
puesto. As we were returning he told me there was a big dun-coloured
bull, not bearing the estancia mark, which for some time had taken up
his abode among the "tarlas," at the far end of the camp, within easy
reach of the river bank. He made a constant disturbance among our
cattle, his object no doubt being to cut some of them off, and so get
control over them, and then form a small point of his own. Ramon
suggested that we should lasso him and kill him, and so get rid of the
nuisance once and for all. He asked if I would like to go down and
assist, and I said I should very much. However, we came to the
conclusion it would be better to have three horsemen for the job, so the
matter remained for the moment in abeyance. The next day he told me he
had seen Robert Mackie, a young Scotchman, who had come out to Uruguay
as a boy, and was already something of a camp man, accustomed to
lassoing on the "rodeo," and working amongst cattle, who wished to join
us in our little adventure. He, moreover, described him as "un joven muy
guapo," "a very capable youth," so it was agreed we should all three go
in search of the bull on Saturday afternoon. Ramon was to ride his
favourite "picaso" (a black horse, with a white blaze and two white hind
fetlocks), while Mackie would saddle up a "moro" (or blue roan), which
he often rode, as it was well-trained, and a first-rate horse at that
kind of work. I was to ride my "rosillo," so we were all to be
well-mounted. Our first idea had been that if we came across the bull we
should all three try and get round to the far side of him, with the
object of driving him in among a point of our own cattle, but on
consideration we determined to approach him from the direction we were
ourselves riding, and then by acting quickly and suddenly, try and get a
lasso round him before he had time to reach his favourite woods. We were
riding quietly along, when we made out the bull standing feeding by
himself, quite a long distance inside the camp, and away from the
woods, whereupon we widened out our line into a kind of semi-circle,
Ramon being on the left, with Mackie in the centre, while I took the
right, so that we might approach as near to him as possible without
causing any alarm. This method seemed to answer for, as it happened, we
managed to get closer up to him than we had any reason to expect.
Suddenly, however, up went his head, and he saw us coming, when he
immediately made off as fast as he could. We then followed at full
gallop, and Mackie, who was in the centre, pushed ahead of Ramon and
myself, for the "moro" was a fast horse, and his rider both young and
eager. Running his horse close up behind the bull, he threw his lasso,
the loop of which, instead of going round the horns of the animal, as it
should have done, passed over his head and round his neck, thus giving
the bull a much greater power of purchase than he would otherwise have
had. Then a most unfortunate thing happened. Mackie had his foot out of
the stirrup on the lasso side, which was not by any means unusual, but
he also had his leg rather far forward, and as the coils of the lasso
went out swiftly, owing to the speed at which the bull was now running,
one of them caught his right leg, entangling it just below the knee. It
was now a question of speed between the horse and the bull, with a man's
life hanging in the balance. Ramon and I could do nothing, for if either
of us pressed forward we should only help to increase the speed of the
bull. So we both slowed down, edging off one to the left and the other
to the right, which was the only thing to do. Fortunately, the "moro"
rose to the occasion. He never made a mistake, in spite of the ground
being rough and uneven, but shooting forward at an increased speed, he
enabled Mackie to get his leg free from the coil of the lasso, and so
saved the situation. Ramon had called to Mackie to take out his knife
from its sheath and cut the lasso, but when he put his hand behind him
both knife and sheath had fallen from his belt during the gallop. Now
Mackie was able to bring purchase, with his lasso, to bear upon the
bull, who was also by this time getting a bit pumped, and compelled to
slacken his speed, so that in a couple of hundred yards more he was able
to bring him to a standstill. Ramon now came up and threw his lasso
round the bull's hind legs, when both the lassos straining at the same
time, and in opposite directions, the bull, now completely mastered, was
compelled to fall helpless to the ground. Ramon then dismounted his
"picaso," still carefully keeping up the strain of the lasso, as a good
horse is trained to do, and taking out his knife from his belt gave the
bull his "coup de grace." Mackie and Ramon were not long in taking off
the hide, which they slung across the back of the "moro," behind
Mackie's recado, when we returned quietly to the estancia, reaching it
just after five o'clock.
Winter had now come, bringing with it continued bad weather, accompanied
by cold winds and constant showers of heavy rain. This went on more or
less until the third week in June, when it cleared up; but the beginning
of July ushered in rain heavier than before, the river overflowed its
banks, and low-lying land was mostly covered with water. Fortunately, at
La Esperanza, there was plenty of higher ground for stock to feed on,
for the constant rain day after day, so filled the "banyados," usually
quite small pieces of water, that they developed into something much
more like an inland sea, flooding all the surrounding land for a foot
deep, and in some places even more. The cattle were well able to look
after themselves, but as the floods increased considerable care was
necessary to keep the sheep from being surrounded by water, for when
danger threatens they are stupid animals, easily frightened, and apt to
get drowned. The bad weather continued until the middle of July,
moderating during the third week, although still very unsettled.
However, on the morning of the twenty-fifth, I started to ride to Colla,
to receive a considerable sum of money which was owing to the estancia.
Mr. Jardine wished me to take his "rosillo alazan" (or chestnut roan), a
good horse, above the ordinary height, which he said would help to keep
me out of the mud. The morning was fine, and I made an early start, for
I wished to reach my destination without delay. Instead of using my
"recado," I put the saddle which had been given as a prize at the
Christmas race on the "rosillo," this being the kind to which he was
accustomed. The river alongside the estancia had mostly run down, but
when I reached the "Cufre," I found it more or less in flood. As,
however, the water only reached up to the flaps of the saddle, I got
across quite dry, always a comfort when travelling on horseback. The
horse carried me well, and I reached Colla about three o'clock in the
afternoon, the track being less soft and slippery than I expected. I put
up at the Hotel de la Paz (Hotel of Peace), and then went out to receive
the sum of money for which I had come. It was all in paper notes, some
of them very dilapidated, and I was obliged to look them over carefully
to assure myself they were all good currency. This reminded me of a
little incident which had once happened to me when paying an account.
The man receiving it was a native in good circumstances, but he could
neither read or write. As I handed over a bundle of notes to him he
said, "El buey es bueno pero la oveja no vale por nada," "The bullock is
good, but the sheep is worth nothing," referring to the pictures of the
animals printed on the notes I was about to pay him. To him nothing
else mattered. Having given a receipt for the money, I rolled up the
notes and put them into the large pockets of my carpincho skin belt, and
when I got into the street, I took out my revolver, just to see that it
was all right. I then returned to the hotel to see my horse was
comfortable, had some supper, and went early to bed. It was then fine,
with a young moon shining brightly, but I had not long got off to sleep
when I was awakened by a loud banging and knocking at my door. Thinking
it might be someone come after the money, I first got hold of my
revolver, before going to see, but it was nothing more than a visitor
who had been drinking too much wine and failed to find his proper
bedroom. It somehow seemed to me that the name of the hotel did not
clearly describe its character. I awoke to find the sky dull and cloudy,
and a very cold wind blowing from the south. I succeeded in getting some
hot coffee, with bread and butter. I then saddled up, paid my bill, and
made a start. When I got away from the town, I found the track very
muddy and slippery. The "rosillo" was a good horse, who could pick his
way carefully, and I was obliged to travel slowly. As I passed along,
the country on either side looked dreary and desolate. Such cattle as I
saw stood grouped with their backs to the cold wind, while the sheep
were mostly huddled together, their fleeces wet and sodden with the
rain. When I reached the river Cufre, I found the water high and
swollen, having evidently come down a good deal during the night. I
entered it as far up the bank as the pass would permit, so as to leave
me as much room as possible to land on the other side, in case the water
should be deeper in the middle than I expected. This turned out to be
the case, for my horse lost his feet for a moment, gave a violent
plunge, and I got wet through right up to my waist. However, he was not
really nervous, and recovering himself, succeeding in making a landing a
little lower down, so that we both reached the opposite side with
nothing worse than a bit of a ducking. My first thought was about the
money. My "carpincho" skin belt, which contained it was, of course,
having been under water, soaked through and through; it was all in paper
notes, many of them much worn and dilapidated, and I knew if I left them
where they were they would soon turn into pulp, and become quite
worthless. Moreover, to make things worse, it all of a sudden commenced
to rain. Looking round, about half a mile distant on some higher ground
to the right, I saw what appeared to be a small place belonging to a
native. There were only two or three mud ranchos, with half a dozen
poplar trees standing near them, but from one of the low chimneys I saw
smoke rising. I thereupon determined to make straight for it, and see if
I could get permission to dry the notes by the fire. It was not a very
pleasant idea, as I was, of course, quite ignorant as to who might be
inside, and my revolver, in case I were attacked for the sake of the
somewhat large sum of money I carried, was now probably useless, owing
to having been so saturated with water. However, I made up my mind to
take the risk, and rode up. A dog barked loudly as usual, and a dark,
middle-aged woman came to the door. I told her what had happened, and
asked permission to dry the notes, saying I should be glad to pay for
the use of the fire. To this she kindly agreed; indeed, from her manner
I thought she seemed sorry for the plight in which I found myself. "You
seem very wet, Senor," she said, "would you not like to dry some of your
clothes as well?" I thanked her, but declined, saying they did not
matter, as I wished to continue my journey without unnecessary delay,
but I asked if I might lay my revolver down by the side of the fire as
I feared it might be a bit damp, in case I should happen to need it
before reaching home, for I had a good long way to go, and it might get
dark. She smiled at this, and said I was fortunate to have come up to
the house when I did, for only half an hour before three native Gauchos
had ridden away, all fully armed, and two of them, she remarked, would
murder anyone with any money as soon as look at them, for they were
notorious bad characters, and had been in the hands of the police more
than once already, supposed to have been connected with something of the
kind. While she was talking, I succeeded in getting the notes fairly
dry, and rolled them up in my pocket handkerchief, and placed them
carefully in the large inside breast pocket of my jacket which, however,
was scarcely big enough to hold them, but I was able to manage it by
packing them tightly together, and now they were once more dry this did
not matter. I realised it would have been more prudent to have done this
before I entered the river. One is always apt to think of things only
when it is too late! I thanked the woman for what she had done for me,
and gave her a small present. "Muchas gracias Senor y adios" (many
thanks, Sir, and good-bye). "Keep a sharp look-out on anyone you may
happen to meet," she said, as I remounted and rode away. Fortunately,
the rain had now ceased, and even a gleam of cold and fitful sunshine
seemed every now and then to struggle to make itself felt at the edge of
a heavy cloud. The track was extremely muddy, and slippery, but the
"rosillo" took it all in good part, for he well knew he was going home.
When we came to our own river, next to the estancia, I found it
considerably higher than on the previous day, but we managed to get
across all right, and I rode up to the house as the cold afternoon was
passing, and the winter light was just beginning to fade.
One morning at breakfast, early in August, Mr. Jardine told us he had
heard from Mr. Herbert Fraser, and his brother Frederick, two young
Englishmen, now staying in Monte Video, where they had broken their
journey for a time, their intention being to go on by sea to Valparaiso,
through the Straits of Magellan. They had brought letters of
introduction to him from England, and he proposed to invite them out to
La Esperanza for a short visit, so that they might have a little
shooting. They arrived during the week following by diligence at San
Jose, and the carriage was sent in there to bring them on to the
estancia. They brought their own guns and cartridges with them, and
seemed keen about sport. They were the type of young men with ample
means to be found travelling for pleasure, not quite knowing at any
particular time what they would do next. The morning after they arrived
we drove in the wagonette to the end of some large swamps, on one side
of the estate, with a boy in attendance to look after the horses, and on
reaching the first lagoon we sent the Frasers to the further end, Mr.
Dampier and I wading among the reeds along either side, with two men in
the centre acting as beaters. The water generally did not come above our
knees, but the thick weeds caused slow progress. There are three sorts
of duck, the native names for which are the "picaso," the "baroso," and
the "ovaro" duck. The first is the largest, with handsome black and
white plumage, the "baroso" is a description of pintail, male and female
being of a uniform brown colour, with yellow bills. The "ovaro" duck,
known for its beautiful variegated plumage, is not nearly so common as
the other two. It is also very wary, but when bagged is the best for the
table. First rose half a dozen "picaso" ducks, and Mr. Dampier and I
each getting a shot, one fell to each barrel. Next came a brace of
teal, both easy shots, which I missed badly, but my companion brought
down his bird. A flight of "barosos" came flying cross ways, but
wheeling round, passed over the heads of the Frasers at the farther end,
who brought down three of them in first-rate style. A little further on
a pair of swans rose hurriedly, out of range for us, but although a long
shot, one fell to our friend's gun, tumbling into the water with a
tremendous splash. We then shot over some grass land for partridge,
walking in line and beating them up, and in less than two hours we
bagged nine brace. We afterwards went on to two of the other lagoons,
where we met with success, so we drove home well-contented with our
day's sport. Among the larger birds the ostrich merits the first place.
It is not a true ostrich, but a "rhea," and its feathers and plumes are
comparatively but of small value. Of large waders, several species of
herons are found. Storks and the little egret are common, while the rosy
spoon-bill and flamingo, although very shy, are seen occasionally. There
are two kinds of eagle, and many different species of hawk. Snipe are
plentiful during the winter months, being found in swampy lagoons and
small streams; they are usually fat, and excellent eating. There are two
kinds of teal, a blue and a brown, both of which are abundant. Golden
plover and sandpipers abound, and as you ride along the spur-winged
plover, or "pteru-pteru" rises with its shrill cry, and wheels round and
round over one's head. Quite a number of small birds inhabit the
country, and the plumage of some of them is very beautiful. There is the
scissor-bird, with its curious tail; the oven-bird, which will make a
round nest of mud, often as large as a man's head, on the top of a
gatepost, quite close to a house where people are constantly passing;
and others, with all the varying shades of yellow and black. Large
flocks of the small green grey-breasted parakeet take up their abode in
the woods, and make the whole place resound with their chatterings. A
species of wood-dove is also very common, and affords good sport.
Amongst the numerous spiders is the "tarantula," which is alarming, and
its bite venomous, also another equally large grey spider, which is very
pugnacious, and will jump up at you when disturbed. There is also a
minute insect of the nature of a harvest-bug, called the "bicho
colorado" (or red insect), which abounds during hot weather in summer,
but disappears during the winter, and when the temperature is cold. It
is a great nuisance, burying itself in one's skin, and causing great
itching and irritation, and often producing sores on the human body by
no means easy to heal. Mosquitos and flies of course are numerous,
particularly near woods, and especially near water. There are several
kinds of snakes, amongst them the coral snake, which is venomous, and a
pretty little green snake, which hangs by its tail from the branches of
a tree, so exactly like the green pod of a flowering creeper that it is
difficult to tell one from the other. The Frasers stayed a fortnight at
La Esperanza, getting several days' good shooting. They then returned to
Monte Video, apparently well pleased with their visit.
September had now come, the sunny spring-time of the Southern
Hemisphere. It was more than a year since I left the Pichinango, and I
made up my mind to return to England. When I bade good-bye to Mr.
Treherne at San Jose, he told me to be sure and write and let him know
whenever I should think of doing so, as he thought it would be a great
pity were I to leave South America without seeing Buenos Aires. So I
wrote him a letter to say I should be leaving La Esperanza towards the
end of the month, with the intention of taking my passage in some
steamer, leaving shortly for Europe. About ten days later, I received a
reply suggesting that I should pay him a few days' visit at his quinta,
(or villa, with a garden), situate in the then outskirts of Buenos
Aires, and fix the day of my arrival just as I might find to be most
convenient. I wrote at once to say what pleasure it gave me to take
advantage of his kind proposal, promising to write again when I could
tell him exactly when I hoped to arrive. He also mentioned that the
S.S. "Dido" would be leaving Buenos Aires on or about October
11th, in case I should think her a likely ship to suit me. On the Monday
following I rode "Carnival" in to San Jose, and I took the opportunity
to call again upon Don Carlos Mendoza, whom I was fortunate enough to
find at home. We had some interesting conversation as to the prospects
of the new Blanco Government, and the future of the country, and when we
parted he expressed the hope that some day or somewhere he might have
the pleasure of seeing me again. He was a nice man, and gave me the
impression of being intellectual and cultivated, and I felt very glad to
have had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. Colonel Gonzales and
his two daughters were away paying a visit to their estancia. I got back
in good time next morning, for "Carnival" carried me well. He was a
good, reliable horse, and I felt sorry to think my rides on him were so
soon to come to an end. I now fixed up my plans for departure, and wrote
again to Mr. Treherne that I expected to leave La Esperanza on Tuesday,
September 28th, for San Jose, go on from there by diligence to Monte
Video, and travel by what was known as the river steamer, on the last
evening of the month, arriving at Buenos Aires early the following
morning. The first thing I did was to send my "rosillo," whom I had with
me during the war, back again to the Pichinango, where for some years he
led a pleasant, easy life, and ultimately died at a good old age Mr.
Jardine said he should like to have "Carnival," and that he would take
good care of him. For this I was glad, for I felt sure the horse would
suit him in every way. I gave my dog "Napoleon" to Ramon Duran, who
promised to treat him well. He was first-rate with cattle, and I wished
him to go where he would be appreciated. Meanwhile, I sent my luggage to
the Hotel Oriental in a cart which was going out to San Jose, keeping
only what I could easily carry on horseback. When the day came to say
good-bye, I thanked them all for their kindness and for having done so
much to make my stay at La Esperanza such a pleasant one. Early in the
afternoon I saddled up the grey, taking a boy on another horse with me
to bring him back. And so ended a year which will always be to me a very
enjoyable recollection. It was a fine afternoon, and as we rode quietly
along the sun felt quite warm, so that we did not reach the hotel until
just about five o'clock. I found my belongings there waiting for me, and
not long afterwards the diligence arrived from Paysandu. It had come in
somewhat earlier than usual, for the roads were now good, and probably
the team of horses which were being quickly taken out, were better than
usual. Immediately afterwards dinner was served. I chose a quiet seat,
and sat on for a while just to smoke a contemplative pipe with my
coffee, and to ponder over the events of the day. I had been very happy
at La Esperanza, and one cannot help feeling regret when an agreeable
time has come to an end. I then went to bed, instructing them to call me
the first thing in the morning. I was up betimes, and able to see the
boy start back to the estancia with the horses, and also to see to my
things before the horses were harnessed up to the diligence, and all
ready for a start. There were only half a dozen passengers, so there was
plenty of room, and we rolled and rumbled along much as we had done now
nearly four years previously, when I went out to Guaycoru to stay with
my friend, Robert Royd, at Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo, little knowing all
that lay before me. When we reached Monte Video, I made my way to the
Hotel Oriental, feeling somewhat weary and tired, but a good sleep was
all that was needed to make me feel completely restored. I had a little
business to attend to during the day, and the late afternoon found me on
board the river steamer, soon about to get under weigh, with her bows
heading in the direction of Buenos Aires. It was more or less a twelve
hours' run, and I came on deck next morning to find we were just about
to let go our anchor; although still some distance from the shore. There
were various methods of landing at the port of Buenos Aires in the good
old days. The big ocean steamers lay at anchor in the estuary, from
eight to ten miles distant from the land. Passengers were passed first
into a tug, then into an open boat, whence they sometimes had to be
shifted into a cart; indeed, it was not uncommon to carry them ashore on
men's backs. However, a small steam launch came alongside and took the
passengers aboard, afterwards transferring us to an open boat, so we
reached the landing-place quite comfortably. I then got a carriage,
which carried me and my belongings on to "Bella Vista," that being the
name of Mr. Treherne's quinta. He came to meet me as I drove up, with a
very kindly welcome and many enquiries after Mr. and Mrs. Jardine and
all at La Esperanza. It was a roomy, comfortable house, with two wide
verandahs, facing north and west. The garden was just entering upon its
spring beauty, and would soon be a blaze of colour. The mimosa trees
were just coming into flower, as also the paradise trees, with their
purple blossom. That of the wistaria was already out, hanging in
profusion all along the verandah, while a little further away was a
long low hedge, thickly covered with "plumbago," and here and there a
pomegranate. There were several kinds of palms and flowering cacti, and
on the house itself was a magnificent magnolia, already covered with
buds. The rose trees were an especial care, and some were even now
beginning to flower. Moreover, there was provision for ample watering
during hot weather. Breakfast was served at 11.30 in the wide verandah.
Early in the afternoon my host took me into the town. I went first to
the shipping office, and was afterwards to meet him at the "Strangers'
Club," where he kindly said he would introduce me. I found the
S.S. "Dido" to be a steamer of moderate size, bound for
Antwerp, calling at Rio de Janeiro and Lisbon, and also at Southampton,
to land her English passengers. She did not carry many, but hearing she
was well-found, and reputed to be a good sea-boat, and finding a
comfortable cabin was at disposal, I at once decided to take my passage
in her. So the whole matter was easily settled. I found the "Club" very
comfortable and well-arranged. Those who knew Buenos Aires at the time
of which I write would indeed wonder at the beautiful city they would
find to-day. The streets were then rough and ill-paved. The drainage was
scanty and bad, and when it rained heavily the water poured like a
torrent down the principal streets. But even then there were beautiful
shops, and well-appointed carriages, with silver-mounted harness, so
beloved of Spaniards, were quite a distinctive feature, and a great
contrast to the rough and, uneven roads over which they were compelled
to travel. The great net-work of railways which now traverses the
republic was then a thing undreamed of, for the Buenos Aires Great
Southern Railway, first among its fellows, then extended but a short
way into the open country. Beyond it the wide "Pampas," the home of the
roving Indian, with troops of wild mares, together with deer and
ostrich, rolled into distance like waves of the sea, stretching one upon
another far away into the great unknown. My visit proved agreeable, and
I felt sorry when it came to an end. However, on Saturday, I was
informed that the S.S. "Dido" had to pick up a late consignment
of cargo at Monte Video, and would not leave Buenos Aires until late on
Monday afternoon. Further, that the tug which was to take passengers on
board, would leave the landing stage punctually at three o'clock, on
October 11th. Mr. Treherne went with me to the place of embarkation, and
we were both ready waiting there nearly half an hour before the
appointed time. The tide was favourable, and there happened to be plenty
of water. All was now ready to shove off, so I said good-bye to my host,
with many thanks for his kindness, stepped on board the tug, and we at
once got under weigh. The afternoon was beautifully fine as we hauled up
alongside the steamer, which, her blue Peter flying at the fore, was due
to reach Monte Video at daylight on the following morning. Dinner was
served in the saloon at five o'clock. We were then steaming along in
smooth water, so everything was steady. There were five passengers for
Southampton besides myself. One of them, Mr. Philip Payne, took his seat
beside me at table. He was a young man, perhaps a little older than I
was, of middle height, with an active figure, with light brown hair, and
grey eyes. I found out he was the son of a country clergyman and, after
learning a little farming in England, had come out to South America with
the well-known Henley Colony. When this undertaking, owing to Indian
raids, and other circumstances, turned out to be a complete failure, he
went round to Chile, through the Straits of Magellan, and at the end of
the previous summer had come back again to Argentina, across the Andes,
on mules, with a troop of Indians, then considered to be something of an
adventure. When I came on deck next morning, a lighter, with cargo was
already alongside, and the city of Monte Video lay glistening in the
bright sunshine, much as I first saw it four years ago. I did not go
ashore, for we were due to leave soon after mid-day, and the early
afternoon found us again under easy steam, with a light breeze and a
calm sea, and the ship's head pointing northwards. I now made the
acquaintance of the other four passengers, a Mr. and Mrs. West, with
their son Herbert, aged fourteen, and daughter Rose, a girl of ten. He
told me he was an engineer by profession, and had come out to Argentina
in delicate health, hoping the climate might benefit him, and that he
might obtain suitable employment. Neither of these had been fulfilled,
and I felt sorry to see him returning to England after a time which must
have been to them one of disappointment. Mrs. West, too, looked anything
but strong. Their son Herbert, was lame, having had a somewhat serious
accident to his hip, but his parents hoped that if he went under proper
treatment in England the difficulty would be overcome. Four days later,
early in the morning, land was sighted, and by eight o'clock we were
passing beneath the famous "Sugar Loaf," a high, conical-shaped hill,
which guards the entrance to Rio de Janeiro. As we steamed slowly up to
our anchorage the city lay to the left, its houses rising tier after
tier up the hillsides, the whole overshadowed by the great "Corcovado,"
a mountain which lay behind. To the right the magnificent harbour, with
many a beautiful island and many a beautiful bay, stretched some ten
miles southward towards "Petropolis." We were not due to sail until
evening, so Payne and I had ample time to go on shore. We first amused
ourselves walking through the town and making some purchases at the
famous feather flower shop in the Rua d'Ouvidor. We then took the
tramway and drove out to see the wonderful Avenue of Palms, supposed to
be perhaps one of the finest in the world. Gay plumaged birds were
flying to and fro, and bright coloured butterflies were hovering hither
and thither, as we slowly walked between the long line of beautiful
trees, the lovely plumes of which, as they hung down in clusters, fairly
shimmered in the hot sunshine of that early afternoon. We got back on
board soon after four o'clock, both of us ready for a wash and brush up,
and for dinner when the bell rang. The sun had already set as the
S.S. "Dido" was fast getting clear of the land, and I stood on
deck and watched the shadows of the distant mountains in the fading
light, and I realised I was now taking my last look at South America.
Four Brazilian passengers had embarked at Rio de Janeiro for Lisbon, for
which port we had also taken in a certain amount of cargo. We had fine
weather and a good voyage, sighting land on November 8th, and passing up
the Tagus soon after nine o'clock. We let go our anchor lower down the
river than we might have done, and at some distance from the town.
Lighters at once came alongside to take off the cargo, and the four
Brazilian passengers were landed in the agents' boat. All this took
place with very little delay. Indeed, our captain wished to get to sea
again as soon as possible. So neither Payne nor I thought it worth while
to go ashore. We got under weigh soon after three o'clock, and it was
not long before a thick fog came on, which compelled us to slow down.
Later in the evening the fog grew thicker, so that the ship had to be
stopped for a time, and all through the night we made very slow
progress. The following day the fog came on again, even thicker than
before, but cleared towards evening, so that we could proceed on our
course something under half speed. The morning of Wednesday was again
foggy, clearing towards the afternoon, but the sky remained heavy and
overhung with thick cloud, so that no observation could be obtained, and
the ship had be navigated only by dead reckoning. The West family seemed
very depressed, but my friend and I were accustomed to difficulties, and
we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit. The two
following days the sun was again obscured by cloud, but we were able to
go ahead full speed. On Saturday evening the captain considered we might
be somewhere abreast of Ushant, but here we fell into what are known in
the Channel as thick belts of fog. These are always very confusing and
misleading, as the thick mist comes down like a curtain, enveloping
everything, and rising and falling very rapidly. The ship had constantly
to stop, and never could steam more than four knots an hour, and very
often less. These conditions prevailed during Sunday, and we crept along
gradually, as it were, feeling our way. Every precaution was taken, a
sharp look-out was kept forward, a sailor being also stationed in the
fore-top, while two men were continually in the chains, taking the depth
of the water, and the foghorn was kept constantly going as well. About
five o'clock, the dinner bell had just rung, Payne and I were standing
by the port rail, looking over the side, near the after hatchway. A
curtain of fog which had come thickly down was just lifting, when a cry
rang out from the look-out forward, "Breakers ahead." Then came the
order from the captain on the bridge, "_Hard a port!_" A second later
the fog lifted further, and there alongside rose the precipitous rocky
face of the "Bill of Portland." It looked almost as if you could throw a
biscuit ashore. There was no wind, and the sea was gently lapping up
against the base of the high cliff. Payne put his hand on my shoulder,
"Look there," he said, "that is the place to swim for, where you see the
grass growing down almost to the water's edge." In a moment it was all
over, land and sea being once more completely enveloped in fog.
Fortunately the ship had sufficient weigh on her to enable her to answer
her helm, and she at once came round to starboard, when all danger was
past. Mr. and Mrs. West were down in the saloon, and knew nothing of
what had happened, nor did we either of us mention one word about it. We
made slow progress during the night, but when daylight appeared, the sky
was clear, and when I came on deck about nine o'clock, we were just
about to pass inside the "Needles." We then steamed leisurely up the
Solent, the tide was favourable, so that we got alongside the landing
stage, and were able to go ashore soon after eleven. I then bid good-bye
to my friend Payne, and having collected my belongings, got them
conveyed to the railway station, where I took the first train to London,
and so ended my experiences of "Old days among the Gauchos of Uruguay."
THE END.
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| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the |
| original document have been preserved. |
| |
| Title Page: The tilde over the u in Gauchos |
| is represented like so: Ga[~u]chos |
| |
| Typographical errors corrected in the text: |
| |
| Page 22 soliders changed to soldiers |
| Page 22 spoonsful changed to spoonfuls |
| Page 29 knowledged changed to knowledge |
| Page 59 Dr. changed to Mr. |
| Page 67 lover changed to lower |
| Page 68 fenecs changed to fences |
| Page 70 attentiton changed to attention |
| Page 71 somewhate changed to somewhat |
| Page 76 Dcember changed to December |
| Page 94 Nothting changed to Nothing |
| Page 94 togethed changed to together |
| Page 98 he changed to the |
| Page 101 Gaiten changed to Gaitan |
| Page 115 terrior changed to terrier |
| Page 116 cartmen changed to cartman |
| Page 116 believed changed to believe |
| Page 120 th changed to the |
| Page 135 is changed to in |
| Page 136 in added between standing and each |
| Page 146 workisg changed to working |
| Page 150 wih changed to with |
| Page 156 it in changed to in it |
| Page 167 interefering changed to interfering |
| Page 180 in added between growing and it |
| Page 187 One changed to On |
| Page 189 me changed to we |
| Page 197 waggonette changed to wagonette |
| Page 198 specie changed to species |
| Page 203 allong changed to along |
| Page 204 myslf changed to myself |
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