THE EARTHQUAKE.
With a rapidity that was truly alarming the black haze in the west crept
upwards over the sky, the sun was engulfed in a few minutes, and before
half an hour, accompanied by a roaring wind and a whirl of dust and
decayed leaves, the storm was with us and on us, the whole _estancia_
being enveloped in clouds and darkness.
The awful earth sounds still continued--increased, in fact--much to the
terror of every one of us. We had retreated to the back sitting-room.
Moncrieff had left us for a time, to see to the safety of the cattle and
the farm generally, for the Gauchos were almost paralyzed with fear, and
it was found afterwards that the very shepherds had left their flocks and
fled for safety--if safety it could be called--to their _puestos_.
Yet Gauchos are not as a rule afraid of storms, but--and it is somewhat
remarkable--an old Indian seer had for months before been predicting that
on this very day and night the city of Mendoza would be destroyed by an
earthquake, and that not only the town but every village in the province
would be laid low at the same time.
It is difficult to give the reader any idea of the events of this dreadful
night. I can only briefly relate my own feelings and experiences. As we
all sat there, suddenly a great river of blood appeared to split the dark
heavens in two, from zenith to horizon. It hung in the sky for long
seconds, and was followed by a peal of thunder of terrific violence,
accompanied by sounds as if the whole building and every building on the
estate were being rent and riven in pieces. At the self-same moment a
strange, dizzy, sleepy feeling rushed through my brain. I could only see
those around me as if enshrouded in a blue-white mist. I tried to rise
from my chair, but fell back, not as I thought into a chair but into a
boat. Floor and roof and walls appeared to meet and clasp. My head swam. I
was not only dizzy but deaf apparently, not too deaf, however, to hear the
wild, unearthly, frightened screams of twenty at least of our Gaucho
servants, who were huddled together in the centre of the garden. It was
all over in a few seconds: even the thunder was hushed and the wind no
longer bent the poplars or roared through the cloud-like elm-trees. A
silence that could be felt succeeded, broken only by the low moan of
terror that the Gauchos kept up; a silence that soon checked even that
sound itself; a silence that crept round the heart, and held us all
spellbound; a silence that was ended at last by terrible thunderings and
lightnings and earth-tremblings, with all the same dizzy, sleepy,
sickening sensations that had accompanied the first shock. I felt as if
chaos had come again, and for a time felt also as if death itself would
have been a relief.
But this shock passed next, and once more there was a solemn silence, a
drear stillness. And now fear took possession of every one of us, and a
desire to flee away somewhere--anywhere. This had almost amounted to
panic, when Moncrieff himself appeared in the verandah.
'I've got our fellows to put up the marquee,' he said, almost in a
whisper. 'Come--we'll be safer there. Mither, I'll carry you. You're not
afraid, are you?'
'Is the worruld comin' tae an end?' asked old Jenny, looking dazed as her
son picked her up. 'Is the worruld comin' tae an end, _and the marmalade
no made yet_?'
In about an hour after this the storm was at its worst. Flash followed
flash, peal followed peal: the world seemed in flames, the hills appeared
to be falling on us. The rain and hailstones came down in vast sheets, and
with a noise so great that even the thunder itself was heard but as a
subdued roar.
We had no light here--we needed none. The lightning, or the reflection of
it, ran in under the canvas on the surface of the water, which must have
been inches deep. The hail melted as soon as it fell, and finally gave
place to rain alone; then the water that flowed through the tent felt
warm, if not hot, to the touch. This was no doubt occasioned by the force
with which it fell to the ground. The falling rain now looked like cords
of gold and silver, so brightly was it illuminated by the lightning.
While the storm was still at its height suddenly there was a shout from
one of the Gauchos.
'Run, run! the tent is falling!' was the cry.
It was only too true. A glance upwards told us this. We got into the open
air just in time, before, weighted down by tons of water, the great
marquee came groundwards with a crash.
But though the rain still came down in torrents and the thunder roared and
rattled over and around us, no further shock of earthquake was felt. Fear
fled then, and we made a rush for the house once more. Moncrieff reached
the casement window first, with a Gaucho carrying a huge lantern. This man
entered, but staggered out again immediately.
'The ants! the ants!' he shouted in terror.
Moncrieff had one glance into the room, as if to satisfy himself. I took
the lantern from the trembling hands of the Gaucho and held it up, and the
sight that met my astonished gaze was one I shall never forget. The whole
room was in possession of myriads of black ants of enormous size; they
covered everything--walls, furniture, and floor--with one dense and awful
pall.
The room looked strange and mysterious in its living, moving covering.
Here was indeed the blackness of darkness. Yes, and it was a darkness too
that could be felt. Of this I had a speedy proof of a most disagreeable
nature. I was glad to hand the lantern back and seek for safety in the
rain again.
Luckily the sitting-room door was shut, and this was the only room not
taken possession of.
After lights had been lit in the drawing-room the storm did not appear
quite so terrible; but no one thought of retiring that night. The vague
fear that something more dreadful still might occur kept hanging in our
minds, and was only dispelled when daylight began to stream in at the
windows.
By breakfast-time there was no sign in the blue sky that so fearful a
storm had recently raged there. Nor had any very great violence been done
about the farmyards by the earthquake.
Many of the cattle that had sought shelter beneath the trees had been
killed, however; and in one spot we found the mangled remains of over one
hundred sheep. Here also a huge chestnut-tree had been struck and
completely destroyed, pieces of the trunk weighing hundreds of pounds
being scattered in every direction over the field.
Earthquakes are of common occurrence in the province of Mendoza, but
seldom are they accompanied by such thunder, lightning, and rain as we had
on this occasion. It was this demonstration, coupled with the warning
words of the Indian seer, which had caused the panic among our worthy
Gaucho servants. But the seer had been a false prophet for once, and as
the Gauchos seized him on this same day and half drowned him in the lake,
there was but little likelihood that he would prophesy the destruction of
Mendoza again.
Mendoza had been almost totally destroyed already by an awful earthquake
that occurred in 1861. Out of a population of nearly sixteen thousand
souls no less than thirteen thousand, we are told, were killed--swallowed
up by the yawning earth. Fire broke out afterwards, and, as if to
increase the wretchedness and sad condition of the survivors, robbers from
all directions--even from beyond the Andes--flocked to the place to loot
and pillage it. But Mendoza is now built almost on the ashes of the
destroyed city, and its population must be equal to, even if it does not
exceed, its former aggregate.
* * * * *
With the exception of a few losses, trifling enough to one in Moncrieff's
position, the whole year was a singularly successful one. Nor had my
brothers nor I and the other settlers any occasion to complain, and our
prospects began to be very bright indeed.
Nor did the future belie the present, for ere another year had rolled over
our heads we found ourselves in a fair way to fortune. We felt by this
time that we were indeed old residents. We were thoroughly acclimatized:
healthy, hardy, and brown. In age we were, some would say, mere lads; in
experience we were already men.
Our letters from home continued to be of the most cheering description,
with the exception of Townley's to aunt. He had made little if any
progress in his quest. Not that he despaired. Duncan M'Rae was still
absent, but sooner or later--so Townley believed--poverty would bring him
to bay, and _then_--
Nothing of this did my aunt tell me at the time. I remained in blissful
ignorance of anything and everything that our old tutor had done or was
doing.
True, the events of that unfortunate evening at the old ruin sometimes
arose in my mind to haunt me. My greatest sorrow was my being bound down
by oath to keep what seemed to me the secret of a villain--a secret that
had deprived our family of the estates of Coila, had deprived my
parents--yes, that was the hard and painful part. For, strange as it may
appear, I cared nothing for myself. So enamoured had I become of our new
home in the Silver West, that I felt but little longing to return to the
comparative bleakness and desolation of even Scottish Highland scenery. I
must not be considered unpatriotic on this account, or if there was a
decay of patriotism in my heart, the fascinating climate of Mendoza was to
blame for it. I could not help feeling at times that I had eaten the
lotus-leaf. Had we not everything that the heart of young men could
desire? On my own account, therefore, I felt no desire to turn the good
soldier M'Rae away from Coila, and as for Irene--as for bringing a tear to
the eyes of that beautiful and engaging girl, I would rather, I thought,
that the dark waters of the laguna should close over my head for ever.
Besides, dear father was happy. His letters told me that. He had even come
to like his city life, and he never wrote a word about Coila.
Still, the oath--the oath that bound me! It was a dark spot in my
existence.
_Did_ it bind me? I remember thinking that question over one day. Could an
oath forced upon any one be binding in the sight of Heaven? I ran off to
consult my brother Moncrieff. I found him riding his great bay mare, an
especial favourite, along the banks of the highest _estancia_ canal--the
canal that fed the whole system of irrigation. Here I joined him, myself
on my pet brown mule.
'Planning more improvements, Moncrieff?' I asked.
He did not speak for a minute or two.
'I'm not planning improvements,' he said at last, 'but I was just thinking
it would be well, in our orra[11] moments, if we were to strengthen this
embankment. There is a terrible power o' water here. Now supposing that
during some awful storm, with maybe a bit shock of earthquake, it were to
burst here or hereabouts, don't you see that the flood would pour right
down upon the mansion-house, and clean it almost from its foundations?'
'I trust,' I said, 'so great a catastrophe will not occur in our day.'
'It would be a fearful accident, and a judgment maybe on my want of
forethought.'
'I want to ask you a question,' I said, 'on another subject, Moncrieff.'
'You're lookin' scared, laddie. What's the matter?'
I told him as much as I could.
'It's a queer question, laddie--a queer question. Heaven give me help to
answer you! I think, as the oath was to keep a secret, you had best keep
the oath, and trust to Heaven to set things right in the end, if it be for
the best.'
'Thanks, Moncrieff,' I said; 'thanks. I will take your advice.'
That very day Moncrieff set a party of men to strengthen the embankment;
and it was probably well he did so, for soon after the work was finished
another of those fearful storms, accompanied as usual by shocks of
earthquake, swept over our valley, and the canal was filled to
overflowing, but gave no signs of bursting. Moncrieff had assuredly taken
time by the forelock.
One day a letter arrived, addressed to me, which bore the London
post-mark.
It was from Archie, and a most spirited epistle it was. He wanted us to
rejoice with him, and, better still, to expect him out by the very first
packet. His parents had yielded to his request. It had been the voyage to
Newcastle that had turned the scale. There was nothing like pluck, he
said; 'But,' he added, 'between you and me, Murdoch, I would not take
another voyage in a Newcastle collier, not to win all the honour and glory
of Livingstone, Stanley, Gordon-Cumming, and Colonel Frederick Burnaby put
in a bushel basket.'
I went tearing away over the _estancia_ on my mule, to find my brothers
and tell them the joyful tidings. And we rejoiced together. Then I went
off to look for Moncrieff, and he rejoiced, to keep me company.
'And mind you,' he said, 'the very day after he arrives we'll have a
dinner and a kick-up.'
'Of course we will,' I said. 'We'll have the dinner and fun at Coila
Villa, which, remember, can now boast of two wings besides the tower.'
'Very well,' he assented, 'and after that we can give another dinner and
rout at my diggings. Just a sort of return match, you see?'
'But I don't see,' I said; 'I don't see the use of two parties.'
'Oh, but I do, Murdoch. We must make more of a man than we do of a
nowt[12] beast. Now you mind that bull I had sent out from England--Towsy
Jock that lives in the Easter field?--well, I gave a dinner when he came.
L250 I paid for him too.'
'Yes, and I remember also you gave a dinner and fun when the prize ram
came out. Oh, catch you not finding an excuse for a dinner! However, so be
it: one dinner and fun for a bull, two for Archie.'
'That's agreed then,' said Moncrieff.
Now, my brothers and I and a party of Gauchos, with the warlike Bombazo
and a Scot or two, had arranged a grand hunt into the guanaco country; but
as dear old Archie was coming out so soon we agreed to postpone it, in
order that he might join in the fun. Meanwhile we commenced to make all
preparations.
They say that the principal joy in life lies in the anticipation of
pleasure to come. I think there is a considerable amount of truth in this,
and I am sure that not even bluff old King Hal setting out to hunt in the
New Forest could have promised himself a greater treat than we did as we
got ready for our tour in the land of the guanaco, and country of the
condor.
We determined to be quite prepared to start by the time Archie was due.
Not that we meant to hurry our dear cockney cousin right away to the wilds
as soon as he arrived. No; we would give him a whole week to 'shake
down,' as Moncrieff called it, and study life on the _estancia_.
And, indeed, life on the _estancia_, now that we had become thoroughly
used to it, was exceedingly pleasant altogether.
I cannot say that either my brothers or I were ever much given to lazing
in bed of a morning in Scotland itself. To have done so we should have
looked upon as bad form; but to encourage ourselves in matutinal sloth in
a climate like this would have seemed a positive crime.
Even by seven in the morning we used to hear the great gong roaring
hoarsely on Moncrieff's lawn, and this used to be the signal for us to
start and draw aside our mosquito curtains. Our bedrooms adjoined, and all
the time we were splashing in our tubs and dressing we kept up an
incessant fire of banter and fun. The fact is, we used to feel in such
glorious form after a night's rest. Our bedroom windows were very large
casements, and were kept wide open all the year round, so that virtually
we slept in the open air. We nearly always went to bed in the dark, or if
we did have lights we had to shut the windows till we had put them out,
else moths as big as one's hand, and all kinds and conditions of insect
life, would have entered and speedily extinguished our candles. Even had
the windows been protected by glass, this insect life would have been
troublesome. In the drawing and dining rooms we had specially prepared
blinds of wire to exclude these creatures, while admitting air enough.
The mosquito curtains round our beds effectually kept everything
disagreeable at bay, and insured us wholesome rest.
But often we were out of bed and galloping over the country long before
the gong sounded. This ride used to give us such appetites for breakfast,
that sometimes we had to apologize to aunt and Aileen for our apparent
greediness. We were out of doors nearly all day, and just as often as not
had a snack of luncheon on the hills at some settler's house or at an
outlying _puesto_.
Aunt was now our housekeeper, but nevertheless so accustomed had we and
Moncrieff and Aileen become to each other's society that hardly a day
passed without our dining together either at his house or ours.
The day, what with one thing and another, used to pass quickly enough, and
the evening was most enjoyable, despite even the worry of flying and
creeping insects. After dinner my brothers and I, with at times Moncrieff
and Bombazo, used to lounge round to see what the servants were doing.
They had a concert, and as often as not some fun, every night with the
exception of Sabbath, when Moncrieff insisted that they should retire
early.
At many _estancias_ wine is far too much in use--even to the extent of
inebriety. Our places, however, owing to Moncrieff's strictness, were
models of temperance, combined with innocent pleasures. The master, as he
was called, encouraged all kinds of games, though he objected to gambling,
and drinking he would not permit at any price.
One morning our post-runner came to Coila Villa in greater haste than
usual, and from his beaming eyes and merry face I conjectured he had a
letter for me.
I took it from him in the verandah, and sent him off round to the kitchen
to refresh himself. No sooner had I glanced at its opening sentences than
I rushed shouting into the breakfast-room.
'Hurrah!' I cried, waving the letter aloft. 'Archie's coming, and he'll be
here to-day. Hurrah! for the hunt, lads, and hurrah! for the hills!'
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[11] Orra = leisure, idle. An orra-man is one who does all
kinds of odd jobs about a farm.
[12] Nowt = cattle.