CHAPTER XV.
At last we said good-bye to the Indians, and set out, accompanied by a man who was to take the horses back, en route for a lake called the 'Laguna del Finado Romero,' after an ill-fated white man, who, like ourselves, had lost his horses in the pampa, and, unluckier than we had been, had failed to fall in with anyone on the road, and had finally died of starvation near the lake that now bears his name.
Our horses were lean, overworked, and broken-winded, and we were obliged to ride bare-backed, as the Indians had refused to lend us saddles; but we cared little for such slight drawbacks, in the joy of once more being able to look forward with certainty to a speedy arrival at our destination.
We had only been on foot for three days, but, looking back, it seemed to me an age since I had last bestrode a horse; and the pleasure I experienced, as we broke into a tolerably swift gallop, was heightened by the remembrance of those unpleasant days during which we trudged wearily along on foot, esteeming it a great triumph if we successfully scaled some pigmy hill without having to lie down two or three times to take breath, and when we hardly dared look at the vast expanse of plain before us, lest we should lose courage at the sight. Contrasted with that period of our journey, our present situation was all couleur de rose. Our sorry nags seemed gifted with the fleetness of the wind, their distressed puffing sounded in our ears like the proud snorting of the fiery steed scenting the chase, and their irregular pace, half gallop, half stumble, seemed as soft and pleasant as the gentle amble of a pampered park hack.
After about three hours' sharp riding, we reached the lake, beside which was pitched the tent of the white man of whom the Indians had told us. The barking of the dogs warned him of our approach, and he came out to meet us, not a little astonished at our appearance, as the Indians had told him that the Gallegos had risen, and, of course, he had not imagined that anyone could have come from Santa Cruz. He kindly welcomed us into his tent, where the first thing that struck my eye, as smacking pleasantly of civilisation, was an empty preserved-milk-tin. Our new host, whose name was Emilio, was an old acquaintance of Guillaume's, and he very kindly offered to lend us horses to continue our journey to Sandy Point with, as the Indian was returning with those we had come on.
As the weather looked very threatening, and big rain-drops were already beginning to fall, we thought it best to defer our start for another day, feeling that, in one way and another, we had had quite enough wettings lately.
The tent we now found ourselves in seemed 'fitted up' with all modern conveniences; indeed, Emilio appeared to be, as he in reality was, rather an amateur than a professional ostrich-hunter, and his neat riding-suit and general clean appearance made me, for the first time, painfully conscious of the strange scarecrow figure I must have made in the eyes of a civilised human being. The pampa had dealt rather roughly with my wardrobe. I was hatless, shoeless, and coatless, having tossed away or lost all these necessary articles of wear at various periods of my peregrinations. My shirt and trousers were tattered and torn; my hair, which had been a stranger to the comb for weeks, was long and matted; and my face, from continual exposure to sun and wind, had become of a deep Tehuelche brown. Fortunately, no excuses for my appearance were necessary; and, having dismissed our Indian friend with his horses, we sat down in the tent to discuss some maté and a pipe, over which luxuries Emilio satisfied my voracious appetite for news of the war in the East, with such items of information as he had picked up lately in Sandy Point.
Touching the dinner-hour, which was now approaching, he told us that his companion had gone to the settlement ten days ago to fetch provisions, and as he had not yet come back, he (Emilio) had run short of everything, and had not so much as a biscuit in the place—a piece of information which gave me a shock, which I trust I bore with more outward composure than my inner feelings warranted. However, when dinner was served, matters turned out to be better than Emilio had represented, and our hearts were gladdened over a puchero of guanaco meat, seasoned with onions, pepper, and salt, and other old acquaintances, whose want we had lately so often and so feelingly deplored.
Darkness came on soon after dinner was over, and we were accordingly not long in turning in. All through the night there was a heavy downpour of rain, and as I listened to it pattering on the canvas of our tent, snugly rolled up in my warm capa, I thought, with a shudder, in what a different plight I should have then been had we not had the good fortune to meet the Indians. Instead of lying warm and dry under the shelter of the tent, we should doubtless have been stretched somewhere on the muddy ground, in damp clothes and soaking furs, hungry and sleepless, and exposed to the inclemency of the weather, without even the means of making a fire.
The next day the rain cleared off at about ten o'clock, and Emilio, who was anxious to know what had become of his companion, resolved to accompany us, leaving his tent and horses in charge of a servant. On the previous day I had felt little inconvenience from riding barebacked, the satisfaction of having a horse at all far outweighing the consideration of any minor discomforts. But to-day I could no longer remain callous to the inconvenience and pain of bumping up and down hour after hour on the back of a not over well-conditioned horse. After the first few miles, the sensation experienced became extremely unpleasant, and gradually developed into a species of mild torture—to culminate, after galloping some thirty miles, in the most excruciating anguish the mind can conceive of. However, we were not to be stopped by mere pain, and jogged along as best we could.
The country we now traversed began to differ essentially from the regions I had hitherto passed through. The monotonous alternation of plains and ravines gave way to a not less monotonous succession of soft swells or undulations. The height of the crests of these undulations was about twenty feet, and the soil which covered them, judging from the appearance of the grass, seemed of a more fertile nature than that of the country farther north. As yet, however, there was no appearance of any new species of bush. Occasionally an ostrich would start up at our approach; but already we began to miss the familiar sight of the guanacos, which are, until one arrives as far south as we now were, an inevitable feature of a Patagonian landscape.
After emerging from this undulating tract, the transit of which occupied several hours, we came into an irregularly-formed country, abounding in fresh-water lakes, which were covered with wild geese and ducks. Here the calafaté bushes seemed to grow stronger and healthier-looking; and the now green grass, growing in abundance everywhere, gave an unaccustomed look of fertility to the country. We were not far from Cape San Gregorio, and occasionally we could catch a hazy glimpse of the sea.
Meantime evening came on, and we began to look about for a favourable place to camp at for the night. In casting about we observed a thin column of smoke arising from a small gorge some little way ahead. Thither we accordingly rode, and presently came upon a young fellow who was just making a fire, he having evidently arrived a few minutes ago. His horses were grazing about the cañon. He started up at our approach, and greeted us very cordially, Guillaume being an old acquaintance of his. He turned out to be a Frenchman, and had formerly been cook to the Governor of Sandy Point, but had subsequently taken to ostrich-hunting and trading with the Indians as more congenial pursuits.
He was a very pleasant and lively companion, and we had a very cheerful evening together. Besides, at dinner he gave us some specimens of his art, which stamped him as a master, or at least I thought so then. I actually found a laurel-leaf in the puchero of this epicurean ostrich-hunter, and presently he turned out an omelette aux fines herbes, which might have been prepared in a royal kitchen, instead of in the desert, over a smoky, green-wood fire, by the doubtful light of a few stars. As he kindly offered to lend us horses to go on with, there was no necessity for Emilio to accompany us any further, especially as, through our new acquaintance, he had got news of the coming of his absent companion. Before we went to bed, therefore, I thanked him for his kindness, and said good-bye to him, as Guillaume and I intended starting at about three o'clock in the morning, in order to get to Sandy Point the same night. We purposed starting thus early as there was an arm of the sea to cross, which, if we happened to reach it at high-water, might detain us for several hours. I also took leave of our host, and then we all went to our beds, to sleep through what I hoped was to be my last night on the pampa.
When the position of the stars seemed to indicate its being about three o'clock, Guillaume and I, after a hasty cup of coffee, bridled the horses that had been lent to us, and waving a silent adieu to our sleeping companions, we rode off through the darkness towards the Cabeza del Mar, or 'Head of the Sea,' which we hoped to reach at low-water. We were not so well mounted as the day before, as we soon discovered to our cost. My horse, in particular, was a lean, raw-boned animal, with a terribly rough gallop, and as the trail had now become swampy and full of holes, it would occasionally stumble and throw me forward in a most punishing manner, and I suffered even more than the day before from the want of a saddle. Meanwhile, the darkness slowly gave way to dawn, and by the time the sun had risen, we reined in our panting horses, on whom the steep hills and heavy ground had told severely, at the rocky shores of the Cabeza del Mar. The water was at ebb-tide, and we had to wait an hour or two before we could cross over. Cabeza del Mar, marked on the Admiralty charts as Peckett's Harbour, is an inlet of the sea which runs for some distance into the interior.
Having crossed over without any accident, we again continued our journey at a gallop. The ground was very soft, and for miles was half under water. At one spot my horse sank into a quagmire, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that I finally got it out again. Altogether, our horses, which were very thin and in wretched condition, began to show signs of distress as the hours wore on, and at times we were apprehensive lest they would not be able to reach Sandy Point. Still we splashed on through mire and water, without sparing whip or spur. Now and then we caught sight of the sea, and when the rising wind swept away the mist which obscured the horizon, the snow-clad peaks of the distant Cordilleras showed plainly against the blue sky. We hailed them with delight, for we knew that at the foot of the last spur lay Sandy Point.
Presently we passed a stunted clump of beeches, standing in the midst of the bare plain, like an advanced picket of the dense forests which, a little farther south, clothe the sides of the straits and the broad slopes of the Cordilleras. After having passed so many weeks without having seen any vegetation but the grass and low scrub of the pampas, the sight of these beeches was indescribably refreshing and cheering, and produced the same exhilarating effect on us as the sudden appearance of land after a long sea-voyage does on the traveller, weary of the eternal sameness of sea and sky.
On we went, leaving the beeches behind us, over a broad grass-covered plain, now half under water and a mere swamp, the distant hills growing gradually more and more distinct. By this time I had grown as tired as my horse, and had left off the use of either whip or spur, as it seemed to take no notice of them, just jogging along at its own pace, a kind of slinging shuffle, varied now and then by a lurch forward, as if about to fall—an ending to our ride which would not have surprised me in the least, considering the condition of the poor animal and the distance we had gone since morning. But the Patagonian horses are wonderfully hardy, and can do an astonishing amount of work in a condition which makes it seem doubtful whether they will be able to carry their own weight. This was the case with those we were now riding, which were mere skin and bone; and yet we had been already nine hours on the road, scaling steep hills, and staggering over swampy, heavy ground of the most trying nature.
Time went on. The beeches became more frequent, and finally we arrived at the foot of a thickly wooded hill, which seemed to mark the commencement of a totally new region; for whereas hitherto all vegetation had been scarce and stunted, it now became comparatively varied and luxuriant. Following a beaten track, we rode up the hill through a glade of beeches, which were just bursting into leaf. On reaching its summit I paused, for suddenly flashed on my gaze, lying at the foot of the hill on whose crest I now stood, the shining waters of the Straits of Magellan. With avidity I feasted my eyes, wearied of the eternal monotony of the pampa horizon, on the varied and sunlit scene before me. In strange contrast to the bare plains I had just left was the bold outline of the winding coast, which sank abruptly down, green with dense foliage, to the very edge of the foaming water, whilst in the background rose the gigantic ridges of the Cordilleras, their sharply-cut and snow-clad peaks standing plainly defined on the for once cloudless sky.
On the opposite side of the straits the tall cliffs of Terra del Fuego were plainly visible; and presently, emerging from a bend in the coast, a little schooner came skimming down, with all her sails set and her colours flying, bound, no doubt, for the neighbouring Falkland Islands.
But time was precious, as we wanted to get to Sandy Point before night-time; so off we started again, down the precipitous side of the hill, the bottom of which we reached after many a slip and stumble, the melting of the snows having carried away whole lengths of what had been a beaten pathway. The farmhouse of Cabo Negro now came in sight, and near it, grazing at their ease in the fresh young grass, were herds of horses and cattle. As their familiar lowing fell on my ears, my heart quite warmed towards the sleek-coated, gentle-eyed cows, and I bestowed a kindly greeting on them in passing, quite as if they had been human beings. But to me at that moment they represented something more than mere milk and butter in perspective (though that consideration was not altogether absent from my mind). In their staid, respectable demeanour, so different from the wild capers and antics of my late friends, the guanacos, I recognised the softening influences of civilisation, and in my present mood I was only too glad to be able to hail its presence under any symbol, even though it were but in the lowly guise of a simple-minded cow.
On reaching the farmhouse we dismounted for a while, in order to give our horses the rest they sorely needed. The owner, Lieutenant Gallegos, received us very kindly, and asked us into the house to take some refreshment. Whilst the meal was being prepared, I explained to him the circumstances which had brought us into the strange plight in which he beheld us, our saddleless nags and our dilapidated appearance having naturally aroused his curiosity. He was not surprised to hear of the unusually high flood at Gallegos, as, on the melting of the snows, there had been great inundations all round the colony, and an unprecedented snowfall during the winter. The winter itself had been of unusual duration, for although it was now almost summer-time, until a few days since, like ourselves, they had experienced regular wintry weather. In the meantime a repast had been served, and I sat down actually on a chair, and ate off a plate with knife and fork, feeling quite awkward and bearish, as if I had till then never enjoyed such luxuries. However, this feeling soon wore off, and before I had finished my meal I felt quite at home again. As soon as we had exhausted our respective budgets of news, we said good-bye to Lieutenant Gallegos, and remounted our horses, who had profited by the short respite allowed them, and had become tolerably fresh again.
Our path now lay along the Straits of Magellan. The water almost washed our horses' feet as we rode along the narrow path, for the mainland falls almost vertically down to the waters edge, and is covered with a dense, impenetrable mass of trees and bushes—the latter chiefly of the magnolia species—and one is forced to keep on the meagre strip of stony beach, which in some places is hardly three feet broad. This narrow track was further occasionally obstructed by trunks of beech-trees and other drift-wood, torn probably from the land on the opposite side, and swept thither by the sea in its angry moods; and sometimes a still more formidable hindrance would present itself, in the shape of a landslip, with a whole slice of virgin forest torn away with it, the trees, bushes, and creepers still green and flourishing. In those cases, where the soil had already been washed away by the sea, all the less durable vegetation having long mouldered away, a prey to the wind and waves, only the dead trees remained, looking sad and ghastly in their untombed nakedness—some fallen, others still upright, but leaning against each other in forlorn helplessness, their white, bare roots firmly interlaced, and their long, dry arms rattling against each other in the wind, like the bones of so many skeletons.
Following its numerous bends, we rode along the beach for about three hours: and then, in measure as we approached the long sandy strip of land which stretches out into the sea, and which has given the name of Sandy Point to the settlement, the beach got broader, the fall of the land less abrupt, and the forest gradually lightened, till, reaching the Government sawmill, which is situated at about six miles from the colony, we came to an open plain, studded here and there with beeches, across which we galloped for some time; and finally, having forded one or two small streams, we at last arrived in sight of the town itself.