After returning to the United States, I wrote to New York, as he had requested; but some time elapsed before an answer came, and then my worst fears were realized. Disappointed in his search for gold, he had accepted the first offer for employment that presented itself, and had become the mate of the little steamer that carried us across the river when he first embarked in his romantic speculation.
During the passage of the steamer to the upper Paraná, he fell overboard one night, and was carried into the rapids of the river and drowned.
CHAPTER V.
ASCENDING THE PLATA AND PARANÁ.
From the River Tigre I proceeded on foot to Buenos Ayres. When within a league or two of the city, I passed a fine quinta inhabited by a Scotchman, who had resided several years in the republic. Two Irishmen, mounted high upon a cart, were driving through the gate, and one of them, after scrutinizing my appearance, shouted to me, “Sure you’re an Irishman—are ye not?”
I answered that I was a North American, and belonged in Boston; when the other man inquired if I happened to be acquainted with a family by the name of Kelley, adding that the head of said family was a half brother to his wife.
I tried to show my questioner that Boston was a large place, with inhabitants so numerous that I had not yet had the pleasure of the acquaintance of his relatives; and, after giving the latest news of the great metropolis, and what was transpiring when I left it, I parted from the cartmen and pursued my journey, philosophizing on the wonderful race of the Irish, and the fact that, no matter what corner of the globe we may be in, we are certain to find this people represented, sometimes by a great many individuals.
When I reached the city of Buenos Ayres, I learned that the boat was to leave on the next morning; and, to prevent detention, the consul gave me a note addressed to the captain of the port, who at once furnished me with a passport. Persons about leaving the province are required to advertise their intended departure during three successive days in one of the three or four daily papers that are published in its principal city. This regulation is designed to prevent the departure of debtors for other “parts unknown,” without settling their accounts; but the law is no less ineffectual than inconvenient, as it has been found utterly impotent to accomplish the object for which it was designed. Before sailing, I visited the bark, to bid adieu to the rough but honest hearts that had been my associates during our long passage from Boston. I was received with joyful demonstrations. I divided the contents of my trunk among the sailors, and, after a pleasant chat with the mate, was about to leave the vessel, when the “distinguished Irish barrister’s son,” our cook, hinted that he had a word for my private ear. I followed him to the galley; closing the doors, to keep out intruders, he offered me a seat, and began the following conversation: “My dear friend, do you ever partake of that which makes men’s sinews as strong as iron bands? If so, here is the bottle just smuggled aboard by the ‘patron’ who brought you from the city. No! you won’t dhrink? I’m less bashful. Here’s to a short parting, and may you not yield your heart, as I once did mine, to any señorita on your journey.” Here he took a good pull at the bottle, and continued: “What shall I do without you? I’m puzzled to know, with no kindred intellect on board to cheer me on the homeward passage. However, I have long intended to prepare a work on the ‘Irish Karákter in America,’ that will occupy my mind, and make the time pass less tediously. It will make at laste five volumes, and I’m keeping a ‘dialogue’ (diary) for notes every day.” After he had enlarged on, and explained the character of his embryo book, I turned the subject by remarking that it seemed strange that a man of his poetic nature had never been entangled in the bonds of love. “Ah, now! ye’ve said it,” exclaimed the “doctor.” “I have passed through that experience; but the cratur, woman, has been no blessing, as the poets say, but a perfect bane, to my poor heart. It was woman who drove me from my position in society to this galley.” Here the cook was obliged to draw a pull of comfort from the bottle. “When I was only sixteen years of age,” he continued, with a sigh,—whether of love or in consequence of the strength of the liquor I was uncertain,—“my father had a frind, who was also an Irish barrister; this gintleman had a daughter like an angel. I was young and beardless, she a few years older than meself. I became so deeply enamoured that I offered her me hand and me hat (heart); at which she softly replied, ‘Mr. W., you are too young.’ I, however, pressed me suit, for women want a deal of coaxing; but she only smiled. At last, when I grew quite urgent,—for an Irishman coorts in earnest,—she referred me for an answer to the second of Samuel, tinth chapter, and the last part of the fifth verse. I turned at once to it, for I thought that by it she meant to accept me suit, and in a bashful way told me as she did; when what was my horror and shame to read the following words: ‘Tarry at Jericho until your beard be grown, and then return.’
“Would you believe it, my friend?—this little incident became known to my acquaintances, and for shame I was forced to leave the country; and for eleven years I never saw ould Ireland again.” I thought that, considering his beardless condition, the Irish girl’s answer was quite Pat to the occasion. The rum was now deeply affecting my friend’s intellect; and just as he was about to recite a “stanza,” I rose to leave, saying that I could protract my stay no longer. Embracing me affectionately, and repeating the lines about “tarrying in Jericho until your beard be grown,” he bade me adieu; and the last I heard of him was his singing at the top of his voice, “O, whiskey! whiskey is the life of man! O, whiskey for me, Johnny!” Bidding farewell to the rest of the crew, and refusing some pieces of silver which old Manuel insisted upon forcing into my pockets as fast as I could take them out, I went over the rail, and with the “patron” pushed off from the vessel towards the city.
About noon on the following day, the Uruguay, in which I had taken passage, weighed anchor, and commenced the ascent of the river against a strong current which made the old boat tremble from stem to stern. The passengers on board were a motley crowd—merchants, soldiers, gauchos, and emigrants of every size and color. One hundred men, women, and children from the Basque provinces were on their way to Paraguay. Two hundred more were soon to follow in another party, they having already arrived at Buenos Ayres. This immigration was the commencement of a plan of President Lopez, who was encouraging French immigrants to come, rightly believing that they would benefit his little republic. Among the Basques whom I saw was the wife of Montez, the president’s interpreter, on her return from a European tour. This lady, who acted as matron for her countrywomen, spoke seven languages fluently. She was enthusiastic regarding the prospects of the new colony.
Late in the afternoon we passed the islands of Martin Garcias and Los Dos Hermanos, and entered the beautiful Paraná, whose current is more gentle than that of the Plata. The country by the river is flat, until we near Rosario, where the banks come down to the water’s edge in the form of sand hills. The undergrowth was thick in a few spots, which served, a few years since, as hiding-places to the dreaded jaguar, an animal which is, however, now seldom met with south of Santa Fé.