[CHAPTER XIX]
THE URUGUAY RIVER
A great waterway—The river compared with the Paraná—Some questions of navigation—The lower stretch of the Uruguay—The stream from Montevideo upwards—Montevideo—The docks—An imposing array of Mihanovich craft—Breadth of the river—Aspects of the banks—Various types of vessels—The materials of their cargoes—The meeting of sister steamers—The etiquette of salutations—Fray Bentos—The Lemco factory and port—A notable spot—The paradise of the eater—The islands of Uruguay—Method of their birth and growth—The responsibility of leaves and branches—Uncertainty of island life—The effects of flood and current—Sub-tropical bergs—The vehicles of wild creatures—A jaguar visitation in Montevideo—Narrowing of the stream—Paysandú—The home of ox-tongues—The second commercial town of the Republic—Some features of the place—Variety of the landscape—The Mesa de Artigas—An historical table-land—A monument to the national hero—Salto—A striking town—Pleasant landscape—The Salto falls—The ending of the lower Uruguay—A rocky bed—Some minerals of Salto—Alteration in the colour of the water—The beauty of the upper Uruguay.
As a waterway the Uruguay River is of infinite service to the Republic whose western coastline it serves. It is true that, compared with the Paraná, the stream suffers somewhat both as regards length and navigable facilities. Both rivers have much in common, in that either has its source in the mountain ranges that fringe the coast of Brazil, and either flows first to the west, then southwards until the junction of the pair forms the broad River Plate. But, whereas the Paraná rises in latitude 22° south the first waters of the Uruguay do not come into being until 28° south. The latter, in consequence, has to content itself with a course of a thousand miles, rather less than half the length of its neighbour.
The lower stretch of the Uruguay holds an obstacle to navigation that is unknown in the corresponding waters of the Paraná. At Salto, some two hundred miles above the mouth, falls extend from the one bank to the other, and thus bar the passage of all vessels. Above this place, however, is the starting-point for the lighter draught steamers that continue their northward course for many hundreds of miles.
As though to compensate for the barrier, the first two hundred miles of the Uruguay represent a particularly noble highway of waters, far broader and more imposing, indeed, than the equivalent stretch of the Paraná. Ocean-going vessels here penetrate to Paysandú, and beyond it to the Lemco port of Colón on the Argentine shore, while the really magnificent steamers of the River King, Mihanovich, produce their finest specimens to ply to and fro here. But, as the banks of the stream contain not only some of the most fertile lands in the Republic but much of interest beyond, it is worth while to follow its course, beginning at Montevideo itself, which, as a matter of fact, is somewhat to anticipate the waters of the true Uruguay.
By the quayside of the capital are grouped three or four of the Mihanovich craft, large, two-funnelled vessels with an imposing array of decks surmounted by an unusually spacious promenade that crowns the whole. One of these is bound for Salto—or rather for the Argentine town of Concordia that lies opposite that port—but just now it is not advisable to be tied hard and fast to her broad decks, since she must call at Buenos Aires on her way, and at many other spots outside Uruguay and the scope of this book.
We will therefore perform the strange feat of making a break in the trip ere it is begun. In any case it is necessary to leave the quay over whose broad, paved surface of reclaimed land the cabs are rattling, and where the policeman and porters stand, and where, moreover, a strong group of Salvationists are singing lustily, surrounded by a motley but attentive group such as the precincts of a port attract. But the graceful Triton shall churn her way out into the open without us, since we will cling so far as possible to the Uruguayan shore, forging upwards through the yellowing waters, to halt at Sauce with its willow-covered lands and Colonia with its rocky beach, until Carmelo is passed, and at Nueva Palmira the River Uruguay has been fairly entered. Even then, however, it is necessary to accept the fact more or less on trust, and to confide in the accuracy of the map rather than in that of the eyesight. For the faint line that has recently appeared on the horizon to the left might as well stand for a distant streak upon the waters as for the low-lying Argentine shore that it actually represents.