Blanco y Colorado: Old Days among the Gauchos of Uruguay

Chapter XI: Part III: La Estancia Esperanza (2)

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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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Blanco y Colorado: Old Days among the Gauchos of UruguayChapter XI: Part III: La Estancia Esperanza (2)

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