THE native troops organized by Lord Glenarvan consisted of three men and
a boy. The captain of the muleteers was an Englishman, who had become
naturalized through twenty years’ residence in the country. He made a
livelihood by letting out mules to travelers, and leading them over the
difficult passes of the Cordilleras, after which he gave them in charge
of a BAQUEANO, or Argentine guide, to whom the route through the Pampas
was perfectly familiar. This Englishman had not so far forgotten his
mother tongue among mules and Indians that he could not converse with
his countrymen, and a lucky thing it was for them, as Lord Glenarvan
found it far easier to give orders than to see them executed, Paganel
was still unsuccessful in making himself understood.
The CATAPEZ, as he was called in Chilian, had two natives called PEONS,
and a boy about twelve years of age under him. The PEONS took care of
the baggage mules, and the boy led the MADRINA, a young mare adorned
with rattle and bells, which walked in front, followed by ten mules. The
travelers rode seven of these, and the CATAPEZ another. The remaining
two carried provisions and a few bales of goods, intended to secure the
goodwill of the Caciques of the plain. The PEONS walked, according to
their usual habit.
Every arrangement had been made to insure safety and speed, for crossing
the Andes is something more than an ordinary journey. It could not
be accomplished without the help of the hardy mules of the far-famed
Argentine breed. Those reared in the country are much superior to their
progenitors. They are not particular about their food, and only drink
once a day, and they can go with ease ten leagues in eight hours.
There are no inns along this road from one ocean to another. The only
viands on which travelers can regale themselves are dried meat, rice
seasoned with pimento, and such game as may be shot _en route_. The
torrents provide them with water in the mountains, and the rivulets in
the plains, which they improve by the addition of a few drops of rum,
and each man carries a supply of this in a bullock’s horn, called
CHIFFLE. They have to be careful, however, not to indulge too freely in
alcoholic drinks, as the climate itself has a peculiarly exhilarating
effect on the nervous system. As for bedding, it is all contained in
the saddle used by the natives, called RECADO. This saddle is made of
sheepskins, tanned on one side and woolly on the other, fastened by
gorgeous embroidered straps. Wrapped in these warm coverings a traveler
may sleep soundly, and brave exposure to the damp nights.
Glenarvan, an experienced traveler, who knew how to adapt himself to the
customs of other countries, adopted the Chilian costume for himself
and his whole party. Paganel and Robert, both alike children, though of
different growth, were wild with delight as they inserted their heads in
the national PONCHO, an immense plaid with a hole in center, and their
legs in high leather boots. The mules were richly caparisoned, with
the Arab bit in their mouths, and long reins of plaited leather, which
served as a whip; the headstall of the bridle was decorated with
metal ornaments, and the ALFORJAS, double sacks of gay colored linen,
containing the day’s provisions. Paganel, DISTRAIT as usual, was flung
several times before he succeeded in bestriding his good steed, but once
in the saddle, his inseparable telescope on his shoulder-belt, he held
on well enough, keeping his feet fast in the stirrups, and trusting
entirely to the sagacity of his beast. As for Robert, his first attempt
at mounting was successful, and proved that he had the making in him of
an excellent horseman.
The weather was splendid when they started, the sky a deep cloudless
blue, and yet the atmosphere so tempered by the sea breezes as to
prevent any feeling of oppressive heat. They marched rapidly along the
winding shore of the bay of Talcahuano, in order to gain the extremity
of the parallel, thirty miles south. No one spoke much the first day,
for the smoke of the DUNCAN was still visible on the horizon, and the
pain of parting too keenly felt. Paganel talked to himself in Spanish,
asking and answering questions.
The CATAPEZ, moreover, was a taciturn man naturally, and had not been
rendered loquacious by his calling. He hardly spoke to his PEONS. They
understood their duties perfectly. If one of the mules stopped, they
urged it on with a guttural cry, and if that proved unavailing, a
good-sized pebble, thrown with unerring aim, soon cured the animal’s
obstinacy. If a strap got loose, or a rein fell, a PEON came forward
instantly, and throwing off his poncho, flung it over his beast’s head
till the accident was repaired and the march resumed.
The custom of the muleteers is to start immediately after breakfast,
about eight o’clock, and not to stop till they camp for the night, about
4 P. M. Glenarvan fell in with the practice, and the first halt was just
as they arrived at Arauco, situated at the very extremity of the bay.
To find the extremity of the 37th degree of latitude, they would have
required to proceed as far as the Bay of Carnero, twenty miles further.
But the agents of Glenarvan had already scoured that part of the
coast, and to repeat the exploration would have been useless. It was,
therefore, decided that Arauco should be the point of departure, and
they should keep on from there toward the east in a straight line.
Since the weather was so favorable, and the whole party, even Robert,
were in perfect health, and altogether the journey had commenced under
such favorable auspices, it was deemed advisable to push forward as
quickly as possible. Accordingly, the next day they marched 35 miles or
more, and encamped at nightfall on the banks of Rio Biobio. The country
still presented the same fertile aspect, and abounded in flowers, but
animals of any sort only came in sight occasionally, and there were no
birds visible, except a solitary heron or owl, and a thrush or grebe,
flying from the falcon. Human beings there were none, not a native
appeared; not even one of the GUASSOS, the degenerate offspring of
Indians and Spaniards, dashed across the plain like a shadow, his
flying steed dripping with blood from the cruel thrusts inflicted by the
gigantic spurs of his master’s naked feet. It was absolutely impossible
to make inquiries when there was no one to address, and Lord Glenarvan
came to the conclusion that Captain Grant must have been dragged right
over the Andes into the Pampas, and that it would be useless to search
for him elsewhere. The only thing to be done was to wait patiently and
press forward with all the speed in their power.
On the 17th they set out in the usual line of march, a line which it was
hard work for Robert to keep, his ardor constantly compelled him to get
ahead of the MADRINA, to the great despair of his mule. Nothing but a
sharp recall from Glenarvan kept the boy in proper order.
The country now became more diversified, and the rising ground indicated
their approach to a mountainous district. Rivers were more numerous, and
came rushing noisily down the slopes. Paganel consulted his maps, and
when he found any of those streams not marked, which often happened, all
the fire of a geographer burned in his veins, and he would exclaim, with
a charming air of vexation:
“A river which hasn’t a name is like having no civil standing. It has no
existence in the eye of geographical law.”
He christened them forthwith, without the least hesitation, and marked
them down on the map, qualifying them with the most high-sounding
adjectives he could find in the Spanish language.
“What a language!” he said. “How full and sonorous it is! It is like
the metal church bells are made of--composed of seventy-eight parts of
copper and twenty-two of tin.”
“But, I say, do you make any progress in it?” asked Glenarvan.
“Most certainly, my dear Lord. Ah, if it wasn’t the accent, that
wretched accent!”
And for want of better work, Paganel whiled away the time along the
road by practising the difficulties in pronunciation, repeating all the
break-jaw words he could, though still making geographical observations.
Any question about the country that Glenarvan might ask the CATAPEZ was
sure to be answered by the learned Frenchman before he could reply, to
the great astonishment of the guide, who gazed at him in bewilderment.
About two o’clock that same day they came to a cross road, and naturally
enough Glenarvan inquired the name of it.
“It is the route from Yumbel to Los Angeles,” said Paganel.
Glenarvan looked at the CATAPEZ, who replied:
“Quite right.”
And then, turning toward the geographer, he added:
“You have traveled in these parts before, sir?”
“Oh, yes,” said Paganel, quite gravely.
“On a mule?”
“No, in an easy chair.”
The CATAPEZ could not make him out, but shrugged his shoulders and
resumed his post at the head of the party.
At five in the evening they stopped in a gorge of no great depth, some
miles above the little town of Loja, and encamped for the night at the
foot of the Sierras, the first steppes of the great Cordilleras.