THE HARBOUR OF ARICA.
On June 7th, 1880, Arica was the scene of a furious battle and a terrible massacre. At one end of the town, and directly on the sea front, is a promontory, which rises six hundred feet above the sea almost precipitously. On this rock, which is known as the Morro, the Peruvians had erected a powerful battery to defend the harbour. The Chileans, however, landed a force of four thousand men several miles below at night. In the morning the Peruvians found themselves attacked in the rear with no means of escape. As their guns were pointed to the sea they were useless to defend against those back on the landward side. Although short of small arms and ammunition, the Peruvians made a heroic defence and engaged in a hand-to-hand contest that lasted for an hour. At the end of that time the commander leaped over the precipice into the sea, and his body was crushed to a pulp among the rocks. Several hundred of his soldiers followed him, preferring to die that way to having their throats cut by the Chileans. For months afterward their bodies could be seen lying where they had lodged on the jutting rocks below. It is claimed that seventeen hundred Peruvians were killed, as this was the total strength of the garrison and no prisoners were taken. On a slab near the slope of the rock is an inscription in whitewashed stone, “Viva Battalion No. 4.” It was placed there by the victorious Chileans to commemorate the heroism of the enemy.
Arica is in the province of Tacna, which is the most northerly province in the republic, and is about the size of New Jersey. Agriculture in this province is very limited, and there has not been much of mineral development. There are some veins of copper and lead, and some scattered deposits of nitrate as well that have not been worked. A railroad from Arica runs back to the city of Tacna, the capital, which is one of the oldest railroads in South America. It is quite an important town, and is situated in a valley made fertile by irrigation. A railroad is now being built across the Cordilleras from this city to connect with the Bolivian railways. When that is completed it is believed that this line will be the best one, as it is the shortest, and every traveller is anxious to escape as much of the dust in crossing the desert region as possible. It is only a little over three hundred miles from Arica to La Paz. This road will add to the importance of Arica, for it will be one of the main arteries of commerce from Bolivia to the outside world, but it is not likely to help Tacna any in its growth.
The next province adjoining Tacna is Tarapacá, which is one of the wealthiest sections in the Americas because of its nitrate deposits. It contains the richest nitrate region in the world. From Arica the cliffs rise up almost perpendicularly from the sea for the first day’s journey. Pisagua, the first port as you travel “up” the coast, is a city of about five thousand. This port does not differ much from a mining town in the States. Although considerable shipping is done here, Pisagua fades in importance beside its more important rivals.
“We do not want rain in Iquique.”
This statement was made to me by the manager of the nitrate trust, who lives in that prosperous city of thirty thousand or more inhabitants, and which is one hundred and eleven miles south of Arica. It was the first time I had ever heard of a community that did not desire rainfall. Water used to be brought by boat from more favoured regions, and was peddled through the streets at so much a quart or gallon. At times it is said to have sold as high as two dollars per gallon. A pipe line one hundred and fifty miles long now supplies this necessary liquid to this city, and it is sold by the metre instead of being put up in pint or quart bottles.
A walk through this city on the edge of the sea, with bare, brown and rugged hills for a background, showed not a blade of grass, except on the public squares and in a few diminutive courtyards within the houses, where the hand of man supplied the necessary water for growth. It is little wonder that lawn-mowers are a drug on the market in Iquique. The sun is fierce, and its unrelenting rays, absorbed and reflected by the vast area of desert waste, inflame the air to almost furnace heat. The streets are dusty and the fine particles get into your ears and nostrils, and you can almost taste it on your tongue. Many of the houses have a piazza on top, or a second roof, to break the force of the sun’s rays. The Arturo Prat Square has been made quite attractive, and is ornamented with a very creditable statue of that hero. Business around the shipping quarters is always lively, as it is bound to be where such an enormous export and import trade is carried on. In 1891, during the revolutionary fighting between the Balmacedists and Congressists, the custom house was the scene of a stubborn battle. The town was set on fire and confusion and disorder reigned supreme. At the present time Iquique is an important port and more than one thousand vessels enter it each year.
The dreariness and unattractiveness of the surroundings is hard to describe. Street cars with girls as conductors, good stores, the telephone and other modern conveniences, and even comfortable clubs do not make up for the lack of green vegetation. The groceries are filled with condensed milk from England, sardines from France, sausages from Germany, cheese from Holland, jellies and jam from Britain, and macaroni from Italy. But fresh vegetables and meats are at a premium, and unnatural tastes are developed. Many English live in Iquique. They are great brandy drinkers, and show discrimination “in not exhausting the wealth of the nitrate beds by taking too much soda in their brandy,” as one writer says. Nevertheless the people are happy, for wealth lies at their very doors and rain would cause great loss. By reason of this Iquique has grown until it is second only to Valparaiso in commercial importance. It has grown with a swiftness than can only be compared with our own western towns. In the first days of the saltpetre era nothing went slow and the town spread like magic. Much of the population is a rough one and hard to govern, but the authorities have done well. The battles that have been fought with fortune in Iquique and on this coast have cost many lives and much privation. A few have acquired fortune, but more have not even obtained a modest competence in return for the deprivation and sacrifice endured. Whatever has been gained at the cost of much labour and privation has been fully earned by some one—and perhaps by one who did not reap the reward.
