During the revolutions, and while the country was in the midst of civil war, an elder brother of this Moreno became a general, and perpetrated the most horrid deeds of cruelty. With a band of soldiers he traversed that portion of the country, cutting out the tongues of hundreds of cattle, and leaving the animals to become the prey of the wild beasts and birds. He visited a great number of estancias, and slaughtering the owners, male and female, placed in their stead his own submissive tools.
At the close of the war, justice cried out against him, and the villain fled the country, leaving a part of his ill-gotten possessions in the hands of his brother.
Four or live miles beyond Moreno’s, we passed a white-washed casa (house) belonging to another man equally bad with our late host.
We now entered a thinly-wooded country, with thorn trees and cacti, in which large flocks of palomas—a species of turtle dove resembling our own species—were abundant. Just before reaching the River Las Vacas we came upon a hut of cornstalks, out of which, to our surprise, walked an unmistakable son of Erin. He commenced at once with, “Sure, and is it yerselves that’s afoot? Where be your hosses? Walk into the house and be seated.”
Hurrying into the house, he commenced an onslaught upon a lot of fowls and two or three dogs, driving them out: we entered with him. He was a perfect specimen of the “Irish-born citizen.” He had originally come to the country as cook to an English bark. He had much to say about the travels and dangers that he had gone through. Speaking of the conduct of Great Britain in meddling with the affairs of the Banda Oriental, he expressed his dissatisfaction in the most forcible language.
“The English and Frinch intervinshun,” said he, “kilt me, as it did all the furriners. Before it I owned two thousand head of cattle and hosses, and had plinty of land, and was comfortable. I had a wife, though I didn’t have time to get married to the crathur; and lucky was I that I hadn’t, for she run off wid me money and half of me property. I hears that the Turks are fighting the queen, and are like to succeed. God bless them if they do. I hope she may be taken.”
We left him as soon as possible, and pushed on to the River Las Vacas, which we soon reached, and crossed in a boat. We remained two days in the little town on its banks, during which time Ned made many inquiries for certain localities, but without success. Finding that nothing could be learned here, we hired horses, and set out on our return to the San Juan River, following along the coast of the Plata. Every few minutes would Ned halt and repeat the three Spanish words that he had studied for many weeks, and could now pronounce correctly. Turning to our guide, an old lame gaucho, he would say, half inquiringly, “Los Tres Hermanos?” but at each time the old man shook his head.
At last we came upon a high bluff, and the gaucho, halting, pointed with his finger to two small islands, green with heavy foliage that fringed their shores, and exclaimed, “Los Dos Hermanos!” But those were not the islands that Ned was seeking. “Los Dos Hermanos,” or “The Two Brothers,” were islands of greater size than those which my friend sought.
“Los Tres Hermanos” or “The Three Brothers,” had been described to him by the dying man as “three small pointed rocks;” but Ned could not find these. He had consulted every chart that he could procure, but not one had the three rocks upon it. Could it be that “The Two Brothers” had been confounded with some other islets?
But I will not dwell upon our unsuccessful search. Suffice it to say that we both returned to the Tigre in the same steamer that had brought us across the Plata. I left Ned busily at work upon a small boat, in which, when finished, he intended to cross the river, and, disguised as a roving naturalist, to skirt along the river coast in search of “Los Tres Hermanos.” When I parted from him, he said, gayly, “Good by, my friend. You have yet to travel a long road before you reach North America. I shall be there some months before you.”