A little before eleven, Don Frederico Dampier rode up from his house, "La Concordia," situate at the other end of the estancia. I saw him coming so went out a little way to meet him. His well-knit but spare figure looked remarkably well on horseback. We first took a turn outside, and Don Frederico pointed out certain things which needed attention. We then went inside, and he gave me the keys of two large cupboards which contained linen and household necessaries. He also gave me a book called the "log-book," in which I was to write down anything which happened, and also the work which was done each day, as it passed. By this time, Robinson had got ready some breakfast for us, after which we mounted our horses and rode round a troop of cattle called the "tamberos," or tame animals; supposed to come up to their "rodeo" every day before sundown. However, as a matter of fact, they were quite as wild as the larger herd, and it was some little time before I got them well under control. We then went on to two of the puestos, each in charge of a puestero, or shepherd, who looked after his flock of something under three thousand sheep. The first puesto we came to was in charge of a "basco" named Laborde, who had emigrated, while yet young, to Uruguay, from the Spanish shores of the Bay of Biscay. He was a fresh-coloured, good-tempered looking man, still in middle life, and he seemed cheerful and comfortable with his wife and three children round him. He gave us many particulars about his flock; how they were getting on, etc. He had been with them most of the morning; had just ridden home to get something to eat, and was going out to give them a turn towards home a little later on. He said he had not been troubled by soldiers, although he had noticed small detachments passing towards the Sierras, but they had not come near either the flock or his puesto. We then rode on to the second, kept also by a basco, called Martin, the number of sheep being more or less the same as the one previously visited. Martin was a fine, robust, good-looking man, in the prime of life; very alert and intelligent, and apparently well-versed in the ways of estancia life. We passed alongside his flock as they were quietly feeding; and we looked over three large points of cattle, and also some mares and colts as I accompanied Don Frederico a little further on his way home.
I then bid him farewell and rode back direct to the Cerro, and with one of the Indians got the tamberos, before-mentioned, up to their rodeo in the afternoon, keeping them there about three-quarters of an hour as a matter of discipline, and then as the sun fell towards the horizon on the late autumn afternoon the little flock of Southdown sheep drew towards home, to be shut in their sheepyard for the night. So I took the opportunity of looking them carefully over, and making a correct count of them; they were just over three hundred, so that I might the more easily become aware, if by ill-luck any should be missing.
The old cook, Robinson, had gone through some exciting experiences in his earlier life. When little more than a boy he sailed for the Southern seas in one of "Green's" whaling ships, fitted out for a three years' cruise beyond Cape Horn, in pursuit of the sperm whale. This was then a very profitable occupation. From captain to cabin-boy, everyone had a share in the results of the voyage, and when the good ship returned, fully loaded with her valuable cargo of sperm oil, she had a great welcome from her owner, who often went down to greet her arrival in Plymouth Sound. Eventually he rose to be a first-class hand aboard; indeed, it was his office to throw the harpoon, as he stood upright in the bow of the boat, into the whale, an act requiring not only courage, but also great judgment and skill. It was only upon rare occasions that the old man could be induced to talk of his sea-faring days. A kind of gloom always seemed to lie behind them all, and it was but by a mere chance that I happened later to find out what it meant. Like so many of the sea-faring class with him drink was the trouble, and after a bout of it he would sometimes fall into a kind of delirium, talking incessantly to himself, yet hardly aware of what he was saying. It seems he had been wrecked on the northern coast of New Zealand in the days of long ago, and there he had lived with a Maori tribe, and had wedded a Maori spouse. Then came a war with a neighbouring tribe, who proved victorious, and he saw his wife tomahawked before his eyes, while he himself was unable to render her any assistance.
Following this, he fled into the bush, where he subsisted on fern-root, and anything else he could obtain, until by great good fortune he managed to signal and attract the attention of a passing vessel, who lowered a boat and took him off.
He then worked his way back to England, and afterwards went out to the Falkland Islands Company, at Port Stanley.
Finally, he came over to Uruguay, drifted to the "Cerro del Pichinango" during the war of "Oribé," where he had remained ever since. So long as all went well, he was attentive to duty inside the house; clean and tidy in preparing the meals; indeed, never happier than when fully employed with his scrubbing brush and an ample supply of soap and water. One of his great pleasures was to hoist the Union Jack on the small standard on the top of the azotea on feast-days and holidays, when he would again lower it at sunset, the same as he would have done on board ship. His failing compelled me to keep all Caña, or white rum, under lock and key, although I was instructed to deal him out his daily allowance twice during the day; when the sun got over the fore-yard, as he was wont to express it, and at sundown. Outside he chiefly employed himself in chopping and splitting up wood for the stove in the kitchen, with his two axes, of which he took great care, and of which he was apparently very proud.
We happened to have a spell of fine weather during the first few days after I arrived at the "Cerro," so I was enabled to see things generally better than I could otherwise have done.