I am far from supposing, however, that with those who read literature of this kind the debilitating effect attributed to it by some critics necessarily ensues. Some at least of the heroic virtues have survived. For a man to die for his country may not be the highest form of heroism, but in every age it has drawn forth the instinctive admiration of his fellows; and it is not at Iquique that one should think of making light of it. These waters, which, during the late war, witnessed the fight between the Esmeralda and the Huascar,[15] would, in another age of the world, have become as famous as those of Salamis.
THE SEA-FIGHT AT IQUIQUE.
On the morning of May 4 we called at Huanillos, a small place of recent growth, not marked on any map that I have seen. It lies within a few miles of the mouth of the Loa, which, as laid down on maps, appears to be a considerable stream, rising in the Cordillera and traversing in a circuitous course the Bolivian part of the Atacama desert. I naturally inquired why the mouth of such a river had not been selected as the site of a port. I was informed that, in spite of the maps, no water flows through the channel of the river, and that what can be obtained by digging is brackish and unfit for drinking. Whether this arises from the fact that the trials have been made too near the shore, within reach of the infiltration of sea-water, or that all the water traversing the region inland becomes impregnated with saltpetre, I am unable to decide; but it seems probable that careful examination of the water, some of which undoubtedly finds its way underground from the Cordillera to the Pacific coast, might add considerably to the resources of the country. The cost of conveying water direct from the mountains to certain points in the interior, and thence to the coast, would possibly be repaid by the saving in fuel now used for the distillation of sea-water, to say nothing of the probability that some portions of the surface would become available for cultivation. The experience of the Isthmus of Suez, where a constantly increasing area near the course of the freshwater canal has become productive, should, I think, encourage the attempt.
SCENERY OF THE MOON.
About midday we reached Tocopilla, another place of recent creation, consisting of a large establishment with several chimneys and the usual group of sheds for the workmen. Steep rocky slopes rise close behind, and it seemed possible to see something of the conditions of life on this part of the coast without going beyond sight and hearing of the steamer. Being told that our stay was to be short, but that the steam-whistle would be sounded a first time exactly a quarter of an hour before our departure, I shouldered my tin vasculum and went ashore. Passing the houses, I at once steered for the rocky slopes behind. Here at last I found what I had often heard of, but in whose existence I had almost ceased to believe—a land absolutely without a trace of vegetable life. Among the dolomite peaks of South Tyrol I had often been told that such a peak was absolutely bare of vegetation, but had always found a fair number of plants in clefts and crevices. I had been told the same thing at Suez of the burnt-up eastward face of Djebel Attakah, where even on the exposed rocks I had been able to collect something; but here I searched utterly in vain. Not only was there no green thing; not even a speck of lichen could I detect, though I looked at the rocks through a lens. Even more than by the absence of life, I was impressed by the appearance of the surface, which showed no token that water had ever flowed over it. Every edge of rock was sharp, as if freshly broken, and on the steep slope no trace of a channel furrowed its face.[16] The aspect is absolutely that of the scenery of the moon—of a world without water and without an atmosphere. I saw no insect and no lizard, no living thing, with the strange exception that on the rocks nearest the houses there were several small birds, which appeared to be rather shy, and which I was not able to approach. I was afterwards told that these birds live on the grain which they are able to steal or to pick out from the manure in the stables, where a few horses and mules are kept for the needs of the place. Assuming this to be correct, the arrival of the birds at such a place remains a mystery.
A passenger who had spent some time at this singular place further told me that the horses, constantly fed on dry grain, and receiving but a scanty ration of distilled sea-water, usually become blind, but do not otherwise suffer in health. He added a story to the effect that some palings which had been painted green were found a few days after covered with marks of teeth, and with the paint almost completely removed. The mules, attracted by the colour, had sought the refreshment of green food, and had vainly gnawed away the painted surface.
However singular the aspect of nature in this place might be, it could not long detain a naturalist. A world without life is soon found to be monotonous; and after clambering about for some time, and satisfying myself that there was nothing to be found, I turned to the shore, where broken shells and other remains of marine animals presented at least some variety. Seaweeds appeared to be scarce, but some were to be seen in the little pools left among the rocks by the retreating tide.
Just as I was about to collect some objects which might have been of interest, the steam-whistle of the Ayacucho summoned me to return to the ship. As I was by this time at some distance from the landing-place, I hurried back under a blazing sun, and reached the ship within less than twenty minutes, only to find that haste was quite superfluous, as we did not start until more than an hour later.
ANTOFAGASTA.
The sun had already set when we reached Cobija. This was, I believe, the first place inhabited on this part of the coast. Before the late war, Bolivia held the coast from the mouth of the Loa to the Tropic of Capricorn, a tract of about one hundred and sixty miles, rich in mineral wealth, the whole of which, along with the adjoining provinces of Peru, is now annexed to Chili. Cobija, which was a place of some importance, is now much reduced, and little business seems to be carried on there.