Through the Heart of Patagonia
by H. Hesketh-Prichard · English · Gutenberg #43366 · 734,771 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Through the Heart of Patagonia
Author: H. Hesketh-Prichard
Illustrator: John Guille Millais
Release date: July 31, 2013 [eBook #43366]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
On page 168, "Cocao" should possibly be "Cacao."
On page 210, "zipp" should possibly be "zip."
On page 268, "baling" should possibly be "bailing."
On page 278, "1 o'clock P.M." should probably be "1 o'clock A.M."
THROUGH THE HEART
OF PATAGONIA
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE HUNTING SCENE]
THROUGH THE HEART
OF PATAGONIA
BY
H. HESKETH PRICHARD
F.R.G.S., F.Z.S.
FELLOW OF THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL INSTITUTE; AUTHOR OF
"WHERE BLACK RULES WHITE: A JOURNEY
ACROSS AND ABOUT HAYTI"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOUR
AND BLACK AND WHITE BY
JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS, F.Z.S.
AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1902
PRINTED IN ENGLAND
_This Edition is for sale in the United States of America
only, and is not to be imported into countries signatory to
the Berne Treaty_
TO
C. ARTHUR PEARSON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION xiii
I. PATAGONIA 1
II. SOUTHWARD HO! 15
III. THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES 33
IV. THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES (_continued_) 50
V. THE RIVER VALLEYS 67
VI. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES 85
VII. TEHUELCHE METHODS OF HUNTING 104
VIII. THE KINGDOM OF THE WINDS 116
IX. ROUND AND ABOUT LAKE BUENOS AIRES 130
X. THE GORGE OF THE RIVER DE LOS ANTIGUOS 144
XI. SOME HUNTING CAMPS 156
XII. BACK TO CIVILISATION 167
XIII. JOURNEY TO LAKE ARGENTINO 181
XIV. THE DOWNSTREAM NAVIGATION OF THE RIVER LEONA 196
XV. A HARD STRUGGLE 211
XVI. WILD CATTLE 224
XVII. ON THE FIRST ATTITUDE OF WILD ANIMALS TOWARDS
MAN 235
XVIII. THE LARGER MAMMALS OF PATAGONIA 247
XIX. FIRST PASSING THROUGH HELLGATE 261
XX. DISCOVERY OF RIVER KATARINA AND LAKE PEARSON 277
XXI. HOMEWARD 287
A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE FUTURE OF PATAGONIA 294
APPENDIX A 301
I. ACCOUNT OF THE DISCOVERY. BY DR. MORENO 301
II. DESCRIPTION AND COMPARISON OF THE SPECIMEN. BY
DR. A. SMITH WOODWARD, F.R.S. 305
(a) DESCRIPTION
(b) COMPARISONS AND GENERAL CONCLUSIONS
III. DESCRIPTION OF ADDITIONAL DISCOVERIES. BY DR. A.
SMITH WOODWARD, F.R.S. 315
IV. DESCRIPTION OF PANGOLINS, ARMADILLOS AND SLOTHS.
BY H. HESKETH PRICHARD 330
APPENDIX B 334
ON A NEW FORM OF PUMA FROM PATAGONIA. BY OLDFIELD
THOMAS, F.R.S.
APPENDIX C 336
LIST OF PLANTS. BY JAMES BRITTEN, F.L.S., AND A. B.
RENDLE, M.A., D.SC.
GLOSSARY 341
INDEX 343
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
Tehuelche Hunting Scene (In Colour) Frontispiece
Facing page
Outfitting in a Patagonian Store 22
The first guanaco 26
A daughter of the Toldos 80
A New Cure for the Measles (In Colour) 86
A Tehuelche cacique 90
A Tehuelche matron, showing hare-lip 94
Children of the Toldos 98
Tehuelche matrons 100
A Tehuelche beauty 102
Boleadores 104
Sons of the Pampas 110
The Tehuelche Toldos 114
Onas stalking guanaco 120
Store-clad Indians 124
Tehuelche spying guanaco (In Colour) 132
Best head of Huemul (Xenelaphus bisulcus) Shot by the author 146
Rest-and-be-Thankful Camp 150
Huemul in summer coat (In Colour) 152
Descending the Barranca 158
Guanacos descending a hillside (Photogravure) 160
A Patagonian lagoon (In Colour) 168
The Italian engineers' waggon 174
Sierra Ventana 176
The drinking place (Photogravure) 186
Fiord of Lake Argentino, showing forest on Mt. Avellanada 190
End of Southern Fiord of Lake Argentino 192
The Wild Man (Photogravure) 194
The World of Ice 202
The fire 220
A glade in the Lake Rica Forest 226
The Leader of the Herd (Photogravure) 230
As it was in the beginning 232
Camp Thieves (In Colour) 244
Pearson's Puma " 252
The North Fiord 264
Our launch among the ice 270
Another view of the Glacier de los Tempanos 274
Eventide 278
The last reach 284
TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS
The pampas (showing first division) 1
One of our Gauchos 1
Among the Andes 3
A Tehuelche Cacique 7
Lakes and the distant Cordillera (showing second division) 8,9
A Patagonian Estancia 11
Argentine Gaucho 12
Half-breed Gaucho 13
J. B. Scrivenor 17
T. R. D. Burbury 20
Welsh Settlement of Trelew 21
Humphrey Jones, Jun. 23
The start on our long trek 27
Mr. Langley's Estancia on the road to Bahia Camerones 29
Frederick Barckhausen 31
A pampa round-up 34
J. B. Scrivenor (geologist) and mula 39
The big Overo, a buckjumper 41
The hunter's return 44
Felis concolor puma 45
Guanaco hounds (father and mother of the author's hound, Tom) 46
Ready to be cargoed 50
Mrs. Trelew 52
Yegua Rosada 53
The Asulejo 54
Cargoing-up 56, 57
The author's two best horses, the Cruzado and Alazan 59
Settlement of Colohuapi 64
Our brand 66
The Germans 69
River Senguerr, where disaster overtook us 71
The Old Zaino 72
The Guanaco (an intimate of the Old Zaino's) 73
The Alazan colt (nearly killed on the Senguerr) 74
Wildgoose Camp 77
Bad stalking (califate-bush on pampa) 78
Wati! Wati! (Tehuelche exclamation of surprise) 83
Indian Toldo 85
Arrowheads and knife, found near Colohuapi, Chubut (now in
collection of Mr. E. M. Sprot) 89
Beauties of Tierra del Fuego 108
Tehuelches visit Gallegos 113
On ahead 118
Horsham Base Camp 123
Lake Buenos Aires 126
Señor Hans P. Wagg, of the Argentine Boundary Commission 128
Inlet of Lake Buenos Aires 131
The horses retrieved 135
Sterile ground to north of Lake Buenos Aires 139
Lake Buenos Aires from the Cañadon of the River de los
Antiguos 145
Grassy camp 154
Young guanaco 156
First huemul camp 162
The off-saddle 165
Jones smokes the pipe of victory 166
The Indian trail 171
River Olin 172
River Belgrano 174
The home of the Indian who gave us mutton 176
La Gaviota 177
Santa Cruz 178
Residents of Santa Cruz 179
The main street, Santa Cruz 182
Ford on the River Santa Cruz 184
Estancia of Mr. E. Cattle 193
The launch, with Mr. Cattle and Bernardo on board 197
Bernardo Hähansen 207
Where the squalls came from 215
Forests under the snows where wild cattle breed 224
Edge of forest 233
Guanacos on sky-line 237
The huemul doe which touched the author. Photographed with
small camera as she retired 243
Best head of huemul (Xenelaphus bisulcus) shot by the author.
Side view 249
Head of guanaco 254
Guanaco chico (captured with lasso) 256
Red mountain wolf (Canis montanus) 260
Hellgate 262
Beyond man's footsteps 265
Glacier de los Tempanos 273
Glacier and glacial detritus 275
Cañadon of the River Katarina 281
River Katarina 283
Lake Pearson 285
Punta Arenas 292
The author 293
Skin of Grypotherium, outer view 306
Skin of Grypotherium, inner view 307
MAPS
Map showing route of Expedition through Patagonia 36
Map of the Eastern Portion of Lake Buenos Aires 172
Map of Lake Argentino and District (showing routes) 188
INTRODUCTION
Patagonia is a country about which little is known to the world in
general, books dealing with it being few and far between, while the
aspect of that quaint tail of South America and its wild denizens has
practically never before been pictorially brought under the eye of the
public. The following pages have been written with the idea of
familiarising my readers with the conditions of life in Patagonia, and
of reproducing as strongly as possible the impressions we gathered
during our journey through regions most interesting and varied, and,
as regards a certain portion of them, hitherto unvisited and
unexplored.
The original motive with which these travels were undertaken lay in a
suggestion that a couple of years ago created a considerable stir
amongst many besides scientific people, namely, that the prehistoric
Mylodon might possibly still survive hidden in the depths of the
forests of the Southern Andes. In a lecture delivered on June 21,
1900, before the Zoological Society, Professor E. Ray Lancaster, the
Director of the British Museum of Natural History, said: "It is quite
possible--I don't want to say more than that--that he (the Mylodon)
still exists in some of the mountainous regions of Patagonia." Mr.
Pearson, the proprietor of the _Daily Express_, most generously
financed the Expedition in the interests of science, and entrusted me
with the task of sifting all the evidence for or against the chances
of survival obtainable on the spot.
During the whole time I spent in Patagonia I came upon no single scrap
of evidence of any kind which would support the idea of the survival
of the Mylodon. I hoped to have found the Indian legends of some
interest in this connection, and I took the utmost pains to sift most
thoroughly all stories and rumours that could by any means be supposed
to refer to any unknown animal. Of this part of the subject I have
given a full account elsewhere.
There then remained to us but one thing more to do, and that was to
examine as far as we could--I will not say the forests of the Andes,
for they are primeval forests, dense and heavily grown, and, moreover,
cover hundreds of square miles of unexplored country--but the nature
of these forests, so as to be able to come to some conclusion on the
point under discussion. This we did, with the result that I personally
became convinced--and my opinion was shared by my companions--that the
Mylodon does not survive in the depths of the Andean forests. For
there is a singular absence of animal life in the forests. The deeper
we penetrated, the less we found. It is a well-known fact that, where
the larger forms of animal life exist, a number of the lesser
creatures are to be found co-existing with them, the conditions
favouring the life of the former equally conducing to the welfare of
the latter. Our observation of the forests therefore led us to
conclude that no animal such as the Mylodon is at all likely to be
existing among them. This is presumptive evidence, but it is strong,
being based on deductions not drawn from a single instance but from
general experience.
Still I would not offer my opinion as an ultimate answer to the
problem. In addition to the regions visited by our Expedition, there
are, as I have said, hundreds and hundreds of square miles about, and
on both sides of the Andes, still unpenetrated by man. A large portion
of this country is forested, and it would be presumptuous to say that
in some hidden valley far beyond the present ken of man some
prehistoric animal may not still exist. Patagonia is, however, not
only vast, but so full of natural difficulties, that I believe the
exhaustive penetration of its recesses will be the work not of one man
or of one party of men, but the result of the slow progress of human
advance into these regions.
I have recorded some of my observations upon the habits of Patagonian
game, and have written somewhat fully upon that most interesting
race, the Tehuelche Indians, but I have abstained from very lengthy
appendices, for these would be of purely scientific interest.
It is my hope to be able to return to Patagonia and to go further into
the many interesting subjects to which my attention was drawn. In any
book that may result from this second journey, I look forward to
including lists of various zoological, palæontological, and botanical
collections, all the materials for which have not at the moment of
writing arrived in England.
I would very cordially acknowledge the unfailing help which Dr. F. P.
Moreno has accorded to me in every way, and would specially thank him
for the photographs and maps he has allowed me to use in the following
pages. My thanks are also due to Dr. A. Smith Woodward, F.R.S., for
his kind permission to reproduce his description of the Mylodon skin
and other remains discovered at Consuelo Cove by Dr. Moreno; to Dr.
Moreno for permitting me to reprint his account of that interesting
discovery, and to Mr. Oldfield Thomas, F.R.S., for allowing me to make
use of his description of _Felis concolor pearsoni_, the new
sub-species of puma which we brought back. I further offer my
acknowledgments to the Zoological Society, in whose "Proceedings" the
two first-mentioned papers originally appeared.
My best thanks are also due to the Royal Geographical Society, who
lent us instruments and gave us every aid in their power, and also to
Dr. Rendle and Mr. James Britten, of the Botanical Department of the
British Museum, for their kindness in preparing a botanical appendix.
I must record my indebtedness to Mr. John Guille Millais for the pains
he took with his illustrations for this book. Before I started, my
friend, Mr. Millais, drew me some sketches of huemul, guanaco, and
other Patagonian animals. These I showed to the Tehuelches, and was
once taken aback by being offered a commission to draw an Indian's
dogs. He offered me a trained horse as payment. The praise of the "man
who knows" is, after all, the great reward of art.
My thanks are also due to Mr. Edward Hawes, who kindly overlooked the
proofs of this book to correct the spelling of the Camp-Spanish. And
I would add the name of Mr. Frank A. Juckes, who saw to the outfitting
of a medicine-chest.
I would not omit grateful mention of Señor Garcia Merou, the late
Minister of Agriculture of the Argentine Republic, of the late Señor
Rivadavia, the then Minister of Marine, to Señor Josué Moreno, to
Messrs. Krabbé and Higgins; also to Mr. Ernest Cattle, Mr. Theobald,
of Trelew, and to the many kind friends who live in the Argentine
Republic.
I am indebted to my friend, Alfred James Jenkinson, Scholar of
Hertford College, Oxford, for his kindness in preparing photographs
for reproduction.
Most of all I owe a debt (a debt which runs yearly into compound
interest) to my mother, who is accountable for anything that is worth
while in this book, and who has collaborated in its production.
H. HESKETH PRICHARD.
[Illustration: THE PAMPAS (SHOWING FIRST DIVISION)]
CHAPTER I
PATAGONIA
Physical features of Patagonia -- The pampas -- Climate --
Discovery of Patagonia by Magellan -- Description of the
natives -- Sir Francis Drake -- Other travellers -- Dr.
Moreno -- Coast-towns -- Farms -- Gauchos -- Emptiness of
interior -- Route of expedition.
Patagonia forms the southern point or end of the South American
continent and extends, roughly speaking, from about parallel 40° to
the Straits of Magellan. Up to very recent times the geography of this
southern portion of the New World has been in a nebulous condition.
Vast tracts of the interior of Patagonia are as practically waste and
empty to-day as they were in the long-past ages. It is certainly
curious that this land should have been left so completely out of view
when the great overspill of European humanity looked overseas in
search of new homes where they might dwell and expand and find ample
means of livelihood.
[Illustration: ONE OF OUR GAUCHOS]
Perhaps the description of Patagonia given in the earlier part of the
last century by Darwin had something to do with this omission. He
spoke of it as a land having "the curse of sterility" upon it. He
dwelt on its desolate appearance, its "dreary landscape," and it would
seem that his undervaluing of the country of which, after all, he had
but a short and curtailed experience, influenced the whole circle of
the nations, with the result that only during the last thirty years or
so have the peoples who desire to colonise been discovering how
desirable and profitable is the great neglected land of the south.
Patagonia has grown to its present condition very rapidly. Not so long
ago it was almost entirely given up to Indians and the countless herds
of guanaco. Now there are farms upon the coast, and a few settlements,
such as Gallegos with its 3000 inhabitants, and Sandy Point or Punta
Arenas, still more populous with 11,000. Behind this narrow strip of
sparsely inhabited coast-land the immense extent of the interior lies
vacant.
Patagonia strikes the traveller as huge, elemental. Its natural
conformation is stamped with these characteristics. From the River
Negro on the north it tapers gradually to the Straits of Magellan on
the south. Three great parallel divisions, running north and south, of
plain, lake and mountain, each strongly marked, make up the face of
the country. From the shores of the Atlantic the pampas rise in gently
graduated terraces to the range of the Andes, while between them are
strung a mighty network of lakes and lagoons, some connected by
rivers, others by channels, many of which shift and alter under the
influence of climate and other local causes. From the sea to the
Sierra Nevada stretch the pampas, all tussocky grass, thorn, guanacos
and mirages. On the western rim of the pampas the Cordillera stand
against the sky, a tumult of mountains climbing upwards, their loftier
gorges choked with glaciers, their hollows holding great lakes,
ice-cold, ice-blue, and about their bases and their bastions thousands
of square miles of shaggy forests, of which but the mere edges have
yet been explored.
Within its 300,000 square miles of surface Patagonia offers the most
extreme and abrupt contrasts. Flat pampa with hardly a visible
undulation, mountains almost inaccessible in their steep escarpments.
Side by side they lie, crossing many degrees of latitude, the
contrast descending to the smallest particulars, mountain against
plain, forest as opposed to thorn-scrub, rain against sun. The wind
only is common to both more or less, though it is felt to a far
greater degree upon the pampa. The contrast extends to the coasts. The
eastern coast is a level treeless series of downs with few bays to
offer shelter to shipping; the western coast, on the contrary, is
grooved and notched with fjords, and the beetling headlands loom dark
with forests.
[Illustration: AMONG THE ANDES]
Roughly speaking, the country to the east of the Andes belongs to
Argentina, that on the west to Chili: between them lies a long strip
of disputed territory. From this great dividing-line rivers flow into
both oceans, into the Atlantic and into the Pacific. On the eastern
side of the range, where our travels took us, the rivers cut
transversely across the continent to the Atlantic. Such are the
Chubut, the Deseado, the southern Chico, which joins with the Santa
Cruz in a wide estuary before reaching the ocean, and the Gallegos. At
the mouth of each of these a settlement has sprung up.
On the western side the mountains approach more closely to the sea,
some of the glaciers on the heights of the Andes actually overhanging
the Pacific. The shore is there deeply indented with winding and
intricate fjords, and dense dripping forests grow rankly in the humid
climate, for the rainfall on the Chilian side of the Cordillera is
extraordinarily heavy.
Patagonia is the home of big distances. The Boer used to boast that he
could not see the smoke of his neighbour's chimney. On the Atlantic
coastland of Patagonia it is often three, four or five days' ride to
the nearest farm. The holdings are measured not by the acre or any
analogous standard but by the square league. One farm alone in Tierra
del Fuego is 400 square leagues in extent. The distances are at first
appalling. A man accustomed to cities would here feel forlorn indeed.
One stands face to face with the elemental. As you travel into the
interior, Nature, with her large loose grasp, enfolds you. There is no
possibility of being mentally propped up by one's fellow man. Empty
leagues upon leagues surround you on every side, "the inverted bowl we
call the sky" above.
Who, having once seen them, can forget the pampas? Evening, and the
sun sloping over the edge of the plain like an angry eye, an inky-blue
mirage half blotting it out, in the middle distance grass rolling like
an ocean to the horizon, lean thorn, and a mighty roaring wind.
Out there in the heart of the country you seem to stand alone, with
nothing nearer or more palpable than the wind, the fierce mirages and
the limitless distances.
This wild land, ribbed and spined by one of the greatest mountain
chains in the world, appears to have been the last habitation of the
greater beasts of the older ages. It is now the last country of all to
receive man, or rather its due share of human population.
It must not be forgotten that this is the nearest bulk of land to the
Antarctic continent. It thrusts forth its vast mass far into southern
waters, and beyond lie a covey of islands, small and large, upon the
outermost of which is situated the famous Cape Horn.
On the Antarctic continent there is no life to speak of. In Patagonia,
the nearest large land, the human race has been, through the
centuries, represented by a few thousand nomad Indians, who in their
long rovings followed certain well-known trails, from which only a
very rare and venturesome individual thought of deviating. Far outside
these paths dwelt, according to the native imagination, dangers and
terrors unknown. You can follow the same trails to-day. Picture to
yourself a dozen or twenty field-paths running side by side,
obliterated by the fingers of the spring, and invisible under your
feet, but strangely growing into distinctness half a mile ahead,
waving onward towards the pampas. Such is the Indian trail.
People in England, one finds, are divided into two groups as to their
opinions of the Patagonian climate. One group maintains that the
country must be tropical, since it is included in the continent of
South America; the other that it is an ice-bound region, for the good
reason that it lies close to Tierra del Fuego. Oddly enough, both are
in a degree justified, for the summers there are comparatively hot,
but the severity of the winter, when snow lies deep on the country,
and cutting winds blow down from the frozen heights during those
months that bring to us our long English evenings, is undeniable.
Some day, no doubt, the land will lose its untamed aspect; it will
become, as others are, moulded by the hand of man, and expectant of
him. But now the great words of one whose eyes never rested on Andean
loneliness marvellously describes it:
A land where no man comes nor hath come
Since the making of the world,
But ever the wind shrills.
The discovery of Patagonia dates from the early part of the year 1520,
when that most intrepid of explorers, Ferdinand Magellan, forced his
way doggedly down the east coast in the teeth of continuous storms.
With his little fleet of five vessels he pushed on in the hope, which
few if any of his companions shared, of finding a strait joining the
two great oceans, the Atlantic and the Pacific. Upon what foundation
he based this belief cannot now be certainly told, but the analogy of
the Cape of Good Hope and rumours that obtained among the geographers
and seafaring captains of the day, helped, no doubt, to confirm his
own idea that some such outlet existed. As early as 1428, a map of
the world, described by one Antonio Galvao as "most rare and
excellent," showed the Straits of Magellan under the name of the
"Dragon's Tail." This map, being carefully kept in the treasuries of
Portugal, was, it may fairly be presumed, known to Magellan. Also
there were two globes, made in Nuremberg shortly before he sailed, in
which the channel between the great seas was clearly indicated.
For all that, the existence of a passage was far from being an
established fact, but Magellan undauntedly continued his voyage down
the Patagonian coast in search of it. He reached the harbour now known
as San Julian on March 31, 1520, and there proposed to winter.
Almost at once the famous mutiny against his authority broke out,
headed by those who desired to turn back, and who had no faith in the
existence of the strait. One of the rebel captains was stabbed upon
his own deck, a second executed ashore and a third marooned. The
commander of the fourth ship, the _Santiago_, was a friend of
Magellan's, who stood by his leader throughout the troubled time.
Weeks passed by, the winter settled down upon them with great
severity, and yet no sign of native inhabitants had been perceived
upon the shore. The Captain-General sent out an expedition to go
thirty leagues into the interior, but the men returned with a
disheartening account of the country, which they described as
impassable, barren of the necessities of life, and, as far as their
experience went, entirely devoid of inhabitants. But one day not long
after, a native appeared upon the beach who cut antics and sang while
he tossed sand upon his head. This man was successfully lured on board
of Magellan's ship. He was dressed in skins, with clumsy boots of the
same material, which last fact is supposed by some authorities to have
led Magellan to call the people the Patagaos, or big feet. Pigafetta,
an Italian who accompanied the exploring fleet, wrote an account of
this Patagonian's appearance. "So tall was this man that we came up to
the level of his waist-belt. He was well enough made, and had a broad
face, painted red, with yellow circles round his eyes, and two
heart-shaped spots on his cheeks." He further says the man was armed
with a bow and arrows, the bow being short and thick and the arrows
tipped with black and white flint heads. In another place Pigafetta
asserts that the least of the Patagonians was taller than the tallest
men in Castile.
[Illustration: A TEHUELCHECACIQUE]
Magellan treated the man with kindness, and soon other natives paid
the Spaniards visits. With them they appear to have brought a couple
of young guanacos, leashed together and led by a cord. They stated
that they kept these animals as decoys for the wild herds, who on
approaching the tethered guanacos fell an easy prey to the hunters
lying in ambush close at hand.
The Patagonians are said to have eaten rats, caught on the ship,
whole, without even removing the skins! However, they seem to have
been peaceably disposed towards the Spaniards, until Magellan, being
struck with their great height, resolved to take home some specimens
of the race as curiosities for the Emperor, and consequently he
entrapped two of the young men while on board his vessel. Seeing,
however, that one of these Patagonians grieved for his wife, Magellan
sent a party ashore with a couple of the natives to fetch the woman:
but on the road one of the natives was wounded, the result being that
the whole tribe took to flight after a slight skirmish with the
Spaniards, one of whom died almost instantly after being struck by an
arrow. From this event it would seem that the Patagonians of that
period used poisoned arrows, as do the Onas of Tierra del Fuego
to-day. These people do not employ vegetable poison, but leave their
arrows in a putrid carcase until they become infected.
The next navigator to visit the shores of Patagonia was Sir Francis
Drake in 1578. He also commanded a small squadron of five vessels,
and, curiously enough, had to cope with a plot against his life when
in the same harbour of Port San Julian. The story is well known. Mr.
Thomas Doughty, the chief mutineer, was given his choice of death, or
of marooning, or to be taken home for trial. He chose death, and was
accordingly executed. Drake speaks of the natives as being no taller
than some Englishmen.
[Illustration: LAKES AND THE DISTANT CORDILLERA (SHOWING SECOND
DIVISION)]
During the next hundred years various expeditions touched upon the
coasts, some captained by Englishmen, such as Narborough, Byron, and
Wallis. The two latter differ a good deal from each other with regard
to the stature of the Patagonians. Byron mentions a chief 7 ft. high,
and adds that few of the others were shorter. Wallis, on the other
hand, gives an average of from 5 ft. 10 in. to 6 ft., the tallest man
measured by him being 6 ft. 7 in. At an earlier date than either of
these a Jesuit named Falkner, being in Patagonia, mentions a _cacique_
some inches over 7 ft.
In 1783 the traveller Viedma penetrated into the interior and
discovered one link of the long chain of lakes lying under the Andes,
which still bears his name. He gave the people an average of 6 ft. of
stature. Some fifty years after this, H.M.S. _Beagle_, with Darwin on
board, touched at many points of the coast, and short trips inland
were undertaken. Darwin's journals give the first detailed account of
the country. He agrees with Captain Fitzroy in describing the
Patagonians as the tallest of all peoples.
During the years 1869-70, Captain George Chaworth Musters, of the
Royal Navy, spent several months with the nomad Indians, traversing a
great distance in their company, and becoming acquainted with many
interesting facts concerning their habits and customs. Since the
publication of his book in 1871 practically nothing exhaustive has
been written about Southern Patagonia. One or two travellers have
given short accounts of visits there, but the serious opening up of
the country is due to the initiative and energy of Dr. Francisco P.
Moreno, whose first excursion to Patagonia was made in 1873. In the
following year he carried his investigations as far south as the River
Santa Cruz. In 1875 he crossed from Buenos Aires to Lake Nahuel-Huapi
and the Andean Cordillera, between parallels 39° 30´ and 42°. In 1876
he visited Chubut, and ascended the river Santa Cruz to its parent
lake, which he proved was not that discovered by Viedma in 1782, but
another lying farther south. To him is due the earliest suggestion of
the great system of lakes which are situated in the longitudinal
depression that runs parallel with the Cordillera.
Again, in 1879, Dr. Moreno crossed the country to the Cordillera on
parallel 44°. Up to that time surveying in those regions was by no
means exempt from danger, on account of the hostile attitude of the
tribes. The amount of valuable work done by Dr. Moreno did not end
with his personal expeditions. Each summer of late years the Argentine
and Chilian Boundary Commissions have been surveying and opening up
the country. First and last Dr. Moreno must always be regarded as the
great geographer of Patagonia.
Among the gentlemen engaged on the boundary work I should like to
mention the Norwegian Herr Hans P. Waag, who, on behalf of the
Argentine Commission, penetrated from the Pacific coast up the river
De las Heras to Lake Buenos Aires, and from thence overland to Trelew.
It would be difficult to overpraise the work of this traveller.
Others, who as pioneers, travellers, scientific men, or surveyors,
have taken a part in the good work of making the interior of Patagonia
known to the world are Baron Nordenskjöld, Mr. Hatcher, and the
members of the Chilian and Argentine Boundary Commissions. I think
that in any such list as the above mention should be made of those
who first settle in a district, and who realise in greater degree than
even the pioneer explorers the difficulties and drawbacks of a new
country, and undoubtedly their hardihood is of immense and enduring
value. I would, therefore, include the name of the Waldron family, who
have taken a large part in settling the southern districts of
Patagonia and also in the colonising of Tierra del Fuego.
[Illustration: A PATAGONIAN _ESTANCIA_]
With this brief reference to the more important journeys hitherto made
in Southern Patagonia, it may be well to give here some description of
the country as it appears to-day. There are upon the eastern coasts
some settlements, as I have mentioned, and also the Welsh colonies of
Trelew, Dawson, Gaimon, besides these a very small and recent one
exists at Colohaupi, near Lake Musters, and another, The 16th October,
far away in the Cordillera. This last is the single settlement of any
size south of parallel 40° in the central interior.
A fringe of farms runs along the coast, and at the mouths of the
rivers are situated little frontier towns, such as San Julian, Santa
Cruz and Gallegos. Towards the south and along the shores of the
Strait the fringe of farms has grown broader and the country is more
generally settled, the Chilian town of Punta Arenas being an important
port. The few vast straggling farms are given up chiefly to
sheep-breeding, the main export being wool. But cattle and horses are
also raised in large numbers, for the land has proved very suitable
for pasturage. The farm buildings vary, of course, in many ways: some
are large and comfortable homesteads, others mere squalid huts, but
one and all are almost invariably roofed in with the universal
galvanised iron.
The Welsh colonists have introduced a good strain to the growing
population, and there are constant wholesome as well as vicious
importations. In a country where shepherding of one sort or another is
the chief industry, it is inevitable that some equivalent of the
cowboy of the North must be developed. The Gaucho is the Patagonian
cowboy, and he is manly and picturesque enough to be very interesting.
[Illustration: ARGENTINE GAUCHO]
The Gauchos are picturesque both in their lives and in their
appearance: a pair of moleskin trousers, long boots, and a
handkerchief usually of a red pattern, a slouch hat of black felt, and
a gaudy poncho serve them for apparel. The poncho, which is merely a
rug with a hole in the middle for the head, makes a comfortable
great-coat by day and a blanket by night.
A Gaucho may be sprung from any nation on earth. Even as the shores of
Patagonia are washed by the farthest tides of ocean, so the same tides
have borne to people her solitude a singular horde of massed
nationalities. But it is the man born in the country of whatever stock
who becomes the true Gaucho. Infancy finds him in the saddle, and he
grows there. Other men can stick on a horse, but the Gaucho can ride.
Living as they do, they form a class alone. On horseback they are more
than men; on foot, I am half tempted to say, less, for they would
rather ride fifty miles than walk two. They are farm-hands, shepherds,
horse-breakers, occasionally good working vets, and when they prosper
they buy waggons and go into the carrying trade; in fact, they form
the foundation of Patagonian life.
The coast settlements are similar to such places all the world over:
storekeepers, men who run wine-shops, traders, and the usual sort of
folk who form the bulk of dwellers on the edge of civilisation.
In Patagonia it is not difficult to leave civilisation behind you, for
between lat. 43° and 50° S. the interior, save for a very few pioneers
and small tribes of wandering Tehuelche Indians, is at the present day
unpeopled. When the line of the Cordillera is reached, you come to a
region absolutely houseless, where no human inhabitant is to be found.
Comparatively speaking, but little animal life flourishes under the
unnumbered snow peaks, and in the unmeasured spaces of virgin forest,
which cover those valleys and in many places cloak the mountains from
base to shoulder. Hundreds of square miles of forest-land, gorges,
open slopes, and terraced hollows lie lost in the vast embrace of the
Patagonian Andes, on which the eye of man has never yet fallen.
[Illustration: HALF-BREED GAUCHO]
Our travels took us over a great part of the country. Starting in
September 1900, we zigzagged from Trelew by Bahia Camerones, to Lakes
Colhué and Musters and along the River Senguerr to Lake Buenos Aires.
After spending a time in the neighbourhood of that lake, we followed
the Indian trail for some distance, then touching the Southern Chico
we reached Santa Cruz on the east coast in January 1901. Leaving most
of the expedition there, I returned with two companions by the course
of the River Santa Cruz to the Cordillera, where I remained for some
months, and in May I once more crossed the continent to Gallegos to
take ship for Punta Arenas, the only port in Patagonia where a steamer
calls regularly. I left Patagonia in June 1901. I compute that the
whole distance covered by the journeyings of the expedition cannot
have fallen short of 2000 miles.
Of the zoology of Patagonia little is known. Of the fauna and flora of
the Cordillera of the southern central part it is not too much to say
that practically nothing is known. Patagonia thus offers one of the
most interesting fields in the world to the traveller and naturalist.
With these preliminary remarks, I will beg the reader to embark with
me upon the Argentine National transport the _Primero de Mayo_, bound
from the port of Buenos Aires for the south.
CHAPTER II
SOUTHWARD HO!
Leaving England -- Start -- _Primero de Mayo_ -- Port
Belgrano -- Welsh colonists -- Story of Mafeking -- First
sight of Patagonia -- Golfo Nuevo -- Port Madryn --
Landing -- Trelew -- A pocket Wales -- Difficulties of
early colonists -- Other Welsh settlements -- Older and
younger generations -- Welsh youths and Argentine maidens
-- Language difficulty will arrange itself -- A plague of
"lords" -- Lord Reed -- Trouble of following a lord --
Itinerary -- Travelling in Patagonia -- Few men, many
horses -- Pack-horses -- Start for Bahia Camerones --
Foxes, ostriches, cavy -- On the pampas -- Guanaco --
First guanaco -- _Maté_ -- Dogs -- Farms -- Indians --
Landscape -- Mirages -- Vast empty land -- _Cañadones_ --
_Estancia_ Lochiel -- Seeking for puma -- Killing guanacos
-- Many pumas killed during winter months--Gauchos.
We arrived at Buenos Aires early in September 1900, and on the 10th we
embarked again on board the _Primero de Mayo_, one of the transports
of the Argentine Government, by which my companions and myself had
courteously been granted passages to Patagonia. The _Primero de Mayo_
is a boat of 650 tons. We carried an extraordinary amount of deck
cargo, for there were a good many passengers on board, as these
transports offered the sole means existing at that time[1] of
communication by sea with Argentine Patagonia.
We started about one o'clock. Lieutenant Jurgensen, the _commandante_,
was good enough to invite us to dine on that night with the officers
in the deck-house. He subsequently extended his invitation to cover
the entire voyage. After dinner we went out upon the deck. It was
starlight, and the _Primero de Mayo_ was steaming down the brown
estuary of the Plata.
First night out! What a penance it is! It is "good-bye" translated
into heaviness of heart, and it knows for the time no future and no
hope. You can only look back miserably and long for lost companionship
and
All dear scenes to which the soul
Turns, as the lodestone seeks the pole.
It is a time when romance fades out, and nothing is left save the grey
fact of recent partings and the misery of unaccustomed quarters.
First night out--when one renews acquaintance with the thin cold
sheets and those extraordinary coverlets whose single habitat in the
world appears to be upon the bunks of steamers. Our fellow passengers
also seemed very much under the same influence of greyness. They had
packed themselves round the saloon-table, and were keeping the
stewards busy with orders.
There were not only a good many people, but peoples, on board; all
nations in ragged ponchos with round fur caps or those pointed
sombreros that one associates with pictures of elves in a wood. As
wild-looking a crew were gathered for'ard as ever sailed Southward Ho!
Germans, Danes, Poles, and heaven knows what other races besides; each
little party formed laagers of their possessions and resented
intrusion with volley-firing of oaths. There was one laager in which I
found myself taking a particular interest; it was made up of two men,
a woman, and her brood of children. Their only belongings appeared to
consist of four ponchos, a _maté_ pot and kettle, and a huge basket of
cauliflowers. They crept in and entrenched themselves between the
cauliflowers and the port bulwark in the waist of the ship. From there
they did not move, but sat swaying their bodies during the entire
voyage. Was Patagonia an Eldorado to which those people were
journeying? On that dark night, as the ship slid groaning and creaking
over the brown waters, the dark scene, lit by stray blurs of light,
called up a memory of Leighton's picture, "The Sea shall give up its
Dead."
Among the passengers was the Governor of Santa Cruz, Señor Don Matias
McKinlay Tapiola, who speaks English very well. There were also one or
two gentlemen interested in sheep-farming in Patagonia. Of these, Mr.
Greenshields, whose _estancia_ or farm we visited later, owned the
credit of having broken new ground in colonising a part of the country
some one hundred and fifty miles south of the Welsh settlement of
Trelew. The earlier sheep-farms lay about Punta Arenas, eight degrees
to the southward, and there the men of the south swore by the south,
and much difference of opinion existed as to how sheep would flourish
in the more northerly region chosen by Mr. Greenshields. But it seemed
that his daring was likely to be richly repaid, and that many, when
they heard of his success, would follow his example.
[Illustration: J. B. SCRIVENOR]
At length it was bedtime, and we turned in with the comforting
reflection that when we woke "first night out" would be over.
Next morning land had sunk from sight and there was a light
ground-swell, but the _Primero de Mayo_ was rolling heavily, a trick
that Government transports possess and seem to regard in the light of
a privilege all the world over. The evenings and the mornings followed
each other in grey but serene regularity, till on the 12th we turned
coastwards, heading for Puerto Belgrano, and ran between low, green,
hummocky banks up a stretch of shallow, mud-coloured water to our
anchorage. It was a reddish sunset with lightning playing continuously
upon the horizon, and while we were at dinner a thunderstorm broke
with heavy rain. That night we were permitted the privilege and
amusement of choosing the morrow's _menu_. We chose a truly British
repast; roast beef, jam-roll and plum-pudding figuring amongst the
items. There are no employments too trifling to help one to pass the
time on board a ship doing service as a coaster. As to the
arrangements made for our well-being on the transport, the Minister of
Marine had, I was informed, kindly given most generous orders with
regard to our treatment.
In the morning we disembarked forty-two sailors for the four
men-of-war lying at anchor in the bay. Then we sailed away again for
the south with a warm sun upon the crowded planking and a cold wind
blowing aft. It was at this time that I altered my original plans and
decided on landing at Puerto Madryn, our next stopping-place, instead
of at Santa Cruz, which lies some seven degrees of latitude farther to
the south. Upon hearing that winter had not yet relaxed its grip on
the country south, it became clear that the horses down there would be
thin and in poor condition, with the spring sickness upon them, and
therefore quite unfitted to start upon such a journey as lay before
us. The new scheme also promised a saving of time, as the _Primero de
Mayo_, owing to the necessity of calling at various little places on
the way down to Santa Cruz, would be a good deal delayed; besides, the
horses we required could probably be got together more quickly at
Puerto Madryn.
We had a number of Welsh with us on the transport, who were on their
way home to the Welsh settlements of Trelew, Gaiman and Rawson. In the
evenings of the voyage it was their custom to forgather and sing
psalms in Welsh, psalms the sound of which took one's memory back to
the Scottish hills and the yearly ante-communion preachings in the
open-air. The surrounding greyness aided the idea--grey sea, grey sky,
grey weather.
By the way, on board we learnt a fact, or so we were assured it was,
about the South African War, which is certainly not well known even
among those who love the Boer. One night at table, one of the diners
solemnly declared that at Mafeking the English ate the flesh of the
Kaffirs and were thereby enabled to hold out for so long. He was not
attempting to hoax us, he really believed the fable himself, poor
fellow! I did not gather the gentleman's name.
Coming on deck on the morning of the 15th, we saw, drawn across the
western sea-rim, a low brown line. Above it a sky of steel-blue
gleamed coldly and below a wash of grey sea. This was our first view
of Patagonia. All day we crept along the grim, quiet, solitary-looking
cliff, until at last the _Primero de Mayo_ was swallowed up in the
vast embrace of the Golfo Nuevo. It was between evening and night when
we approached our harbourage, Puerto Madryn. The half-lights were
playing above it, and the afterglow of the sunset still shone feebly
behind the land. We saw only raw cliff capped by dark verdure--the rim
of the vast pampas which roll away in rising levels league upon league
towards the Andes.
The sea was cold, the wind was cold, the land looked forlorn and
a-cold. Presently from it a little boat put out containing a figure
wrapped in a long military cloak. This was the sub-prefect, who thus
welcomed us to these desolate shores, for Patagonia from the sea is a
desolate prospect indeed. It would be difficult to give an adequate
idea of the dismal aspect presented by Puerto Madryn upon that
evening. Suffice it to say that the settlement consists of half a
dozen houses and a flagstaff; the first crouch on the lip of the tide
and the second shivers above on the bare pampa-rim.
There seals and divers haunt the sea, a few guanaco-herds live upon
the coast-lands, and there, in inhospitable fashion, the little colony
of human beings clings, as it were, upon the skirts of great
primordial nature. In the evening lights the cliffs showed curiously
pallid above a strip of dead sand and shingle, only the sky and the
water seemed alive.
Next morning we hoped to get our baggage ashore and were moving early
with that object in view. But the trend of public opinion in Puerto
Madryn appears to be towards the conviction that there is no sort of
reason for hurry under any circumstances. Hence the cargo disgorged
itself slowly, and after interminable waiting we found our particular
share of it would not be reached that night. It was, in fact, not till
the afternoon of the second day that we achieved a partial recovery of
our belongings from the holds and took the first consignment of it
ashore. The morning had broken clear and fine, but mid-day brought a
change. And by the time we had our boatload completed and rocketed
away shorewards at the tail of the _Primero de Mayo's_ steam-launch, a
beam sea was flying in spray high over us.
There was an anxious moment when the launch slipped the towing-cable
and the sailor in the bows flung a rope, which dropped short of the
black wooden jetty, and we were swept some boat-lengths away by a big
broken sea. To be swamped at the moment of landing!--the thought was
too disastrous to be dwelt on; half our rifles and a box of
instruments were on board. It cost us a long hour and a half of hard
work before everything was safe ashore. And while we toiled a dozen
seals came and stared at us with their doglike faces, and lazy, solemn
eyes.
[Illustration: T. R. D. BURBURY]
When all our property had been brought to land, luckily without
mishaps of any kind, I left Scrivenor with our _peones_ to bring up
the heavy baggage and went on with Burbury to Trelew by the miniature
train which plies to and fro between the Welsh colony and the coast.
From Trelew a ten-days ride takes you beyond the farm of the last
settler and into the waste places of the pampas.
Trelew is a new and pocket Wales, but very much Wales all the same. To
prove the accuracy of this statement it is only necessary to say that
the waggon which set us on the first leagues of our way belonged to a
Jones, that another Jones accompanied the expedition to the
Cordillera, that I negotiated with a third Jones for a supply of
mutton to take with us for use on the first part of our journey, that
I was introduced to several Williamses and did business with various
Hugheses. And all this in a day and a half.
Trelew itself is a bare settlement of raw-looking houses and shanties,
which has started up on the emptiness of the pampas. It cannot lay any
claim to picturesqueness, and a pervading impression of being
unfinished adds a suggestion of discomfort to the place. All round
about the mud houses the pampa rolls away to the distances, harsh,
stony, overgrown with little humpy bushes of thorn and dotted here and
there with wheat-land. All through and over the settlement you are
never out of hearing of three languages--English, Welsh and Spanish.
[Illustration: WELSH SETTLEMENT OF TRELEW]
For thirty-five years the Welsh have lived in this little colony of
their own founding. Exactly all the reasons which led them to forsake
their far-off homes for Patagonia it would serve no purpose to set out
in detail, but the root of the matter appears to have lain in the fact
that they objected to the laws relating to the teaching of English in
the schools; and, having the courage of their convictions, they came
several thousand miles across the sea to escape the _régime_ they
disliked. At present, however, they seem to have slipped from the
frying-pan into the fire, for they like still less the Argentine code,
by which every man born in the Republic is subject to conscription and
Sunday drilling.
Some time ago the colonists of Trelew appealed to England to intercede
for them with the Argentine Government with a view to obtaining
release from these disabilities. But as the Welsh had of their own
free will deliberately placed themselves under the Government of the
Republic, it was impossible for England to interfere, and this fact
was notified to the suppliants, much to their disappointment and
disgust. Even when I was there they remained rather sore over the
matter, complaining that England had taken all the money subscribed
for the expenses of the appeal and given them no redress in return.
The difficulties and hardships which must inevitably have beset the
commencement of their settling in Patagonia, contrasted with their
present condition, show the Welsh to be splendid people. The resolute
spirit that drove them to emigrate across the seas has served to make
their township there, though perhaps not particularly inviting to look
at, a flourishing one in its quiet pastoral way. They have laid a
railway, as has been said, to the coast at Puerto Madryn and
established a telephone. Spanish and Welsh live here as neighbours.
The Spaniard keeps the store while the Welshman farms, growing a
certain amount of grain, but his chief business lies in breeding
horses, cattle and sheep.
The Welshmen are not wanting in keen business quality. Any one who has
tried to buy horses in Trelew will bear me out in this statement. The
mere fact that a stranger has arrived in their colony, who wants to
invest in horseflesh, awakens all their commercial instincts, and they
are not at all behind the rest of the world in knowing how to form a
combine for the purpose of plundering the Philistines. Quite right
too. A man who can resist making a bargain over a horse whenever he
gets the chance is, like "the good young man who died," over-perfect
for this corrupt old world.
From their first settlement the Welsh have spread south through the
coast-towns of Patagonia, and six weeks' journey from Trelew they have
formed another settlement in the Cordilleras to the north-west which
they have called the "16th October Colony." Thither waggons are always
trekking, and waggon-drivers and others who return bring with them
glowing and rosy descriptions of the young settlement of the interior.
The adaptability of the Welsh to the peculiar needs of colonisation is
very remarkable. They have certainly stepped into the "larger life"
with success.
[Illustration: OUTFITTING IN A PATAGONIAN STORE]
The influence of the new conditions of existence, so different from
that of the Welsh peasant in his own country, is very noticeable in
several ways. The older and the younger generation are unlike each
other now, and will probably continue to become more so as time
goes on. Physically the younger people are far better developed than
their elders, red-faced, open-eyed, straight-backed boys in big felt
hats, each with a bright-coloured handkerchief knotted round his neck
and the guanaco-wool poncho hanging from his shoulders. They are very
picturesque and look their best on horseback. In this matter of riding
also there is a wide difference between the styles of the old and the
young men. The latter, who are Patagonian born, seem to be part of
their horses, but the elders, however excellent long practice has made
them, never attain to the proficiency of their sons.
[Illustration: HUMPHREY JONES, JUN.]
Although the colony of Trelew is to-day in a more or less flourishing
condition and very Welsh, a grave danger menaces it. In fifty years
time how will it be with the racial element? Will there be as many
Welsh then as now? I fear not, and the result is difficult to foresee.
The danger takes the form of the dark-eyed Argentine maiden, who is
rather apt to "make roast meat of the heart" of the Welsh youth. While
the Welsh girls do not take very readily to Spanish-speaking husbands,
the Welsh boys fall very much in love with the daughters of the South.
So it is to be concluded that the language difficulty will settle
itself, or, at any rate, become more easy of arrangement with each
succeeding generation. If the girl you love speaks only Spanish, it is
quite obvious you must learn Spanish in order to be able to talk to
her, and, under the circumstances, you will not find the task a very
hard one. Then children nearly always show a preference for the
mother's tongue and speech in contradistinction to that of the father.
Probably, if these prophecies were uttered in Trelew, the men of
to-day would scoff at them. But onlookers often see most of the game.
In 1865 the Welsh, in deep sorrow, left their own land to escape the
tyranny of the English law, as they considered it, which sought to
force upon them the English language. Their desire was to preserve
their own tongue. And flying from Scylla they will fall (and to some
degree have already fallen) a prey to Charybdis. But it is a very
pleasant Charybdis, typified by a dark-haired, dark-eyed, lissom
maiden, who will bear them sons no longer of the old pure-bred Welsh
stock, but of a mixed race. And so the effort of the forefathers, who
fared overseas to found a new home, shall be made null and void.
Now and again it is the fate of frontier towns to be stirred to their
depths by some incursion from the old world they have left behind
them. Trelew was still recovering from such an experience when we
arrived there. The settlement, in short, had been suffering from a
plague of lords. First appeared an aristocrat, who wished to travel in
the interior, and he bought up horses with a lavish hand, and
generally made preparations which, no doubt, filled the purses of the
inhabitants. This gentleman's projected tour, however, fell through
for some reason, and he departed whence he had come into the unknown
world outside of Trelew's daily cognisance.
Presently after him followed a second "lord," who gave his name as
Lord Reed, and who was received with open arms by an enthusiastic
community. A run of lords appeared to be setting in, and was regarded
by the Trelewians as a distinct dispensation in their favour, which it
was their happy duty to work out thoroughly to their own advantage. By
some mistake Lord Reed had left his ready money behind him, and,
therefore, borrowed pretty extensively from the kind-hearted Welshmen.
After a time Lord Reed vanished, and upon inquiry being made it was
discovered that no such title as Lord Reed was to be found in the
Peerage of Great Britain. When this fact became established, more than
one Welshman is reported to have gone out after Lord Reed with the
family gun, and, I believe, he was finally caught with a lasso! But
the incident was not without its bearing on our personal affair, for
the Bank of Trelew would have nothing whatever to say to my Cook's
letter of credit. In vain I recited my credentials, and gave such
proof of genuineness as was in my power to give. They would none of
me. The bank evidently argued that it was easier to pretend that you
were a _bona-fide_ traveller than that you were a lord. Lord Reed too;
it was rather a taking title. I could not at first understand where
the humour of the question, put to me by several people I met in
Trelew, of "Are you not Lord Prichard?" came in. In fact, it was
disconcerting; but later on, when I heard the above story, I did not
grudge the colonists any fun that might be got out of the situation,
for certainly Lord Reed, taken all in all, had been far from a subject
of pure amusement to them.
We remained six days at Trelew making those last few purchases which
were necessary with the small stock of extra money that I had left
myself as a margin. It was directly owing to Lord Reed that I finally
set forth into the interior with but thirty dollars in Argentine notes
and large drafts on Cook and Son, which were quite useless. Although
the wilderness does not seem a likely field for spending money, yet,
before our travels were at an end, I was glad to sell horses to supply
the needs of our party.
The journey which lay before us to Lake Buenos Aires was about six
hundred miles in length, and this distance might be subdivided into
three stages: the first, from Trelew to Bahia Camerones, where the
expedition became complete; the second, from Bahia Camerones to the
Lakes Musters and Colhué; and the third, to Lake Buenos Aires itself.
My instructions gave me an entirely free hand, within reasonable
limits, as to the number of men I might take with me.
I had from the first been convinced that the smallest number possible
would also be, in our case, the wisest. The immense extent of the
country to be traversed, and the difficulties which must inevitably
lie in our way to hinder and delay us, as well as the practical
emptiness of the country, which requires that an expedition shall be
self-supporting, were salient facts; and our plans had to be made and
modified in relation to these facts. The mobility of the party was the
main point to aim at. Hence it was necessary to cut down the
_personnel_ of the expedition to as low a number as possible, and it
was further most important to have plenty of horses and to spare.
The difficulty of feeding several men when travelling through such a
country was obvious, and therefore not to be thought of, as, besides
the four horses each individual needed for riding, the extra animals
for carrying provision and bedding, clothing, tents, &c. had to be
taken into account. No pack-horse should be allowed to carry his load
two days consecutively, and, in fact, one day's work in three is
enough. If waggons are taken, each should be allowed three teams of
six horses each.
With such ideas in view, those arrangements were made which, in fact,
enabled us to cover the distances we achieved. Any expedition of this
sort is killing work for the horses, and it stands greatly to
Burbury's credit that we lost but one out of nearly sixty during the
months we spent in Patagonia, and that one was a colt that died of
eating poison-shrub.
There is not the slightest doubt that the policy that spells success
in Patagonian travel is summed up in the words, "Cut down your men and
your stores, and take enough horses to enable you to move lightly and
rapidly."
On September 21 we left Trelew in the afternoon. The weather was
magnificent. Our caravan at this period consisted of a couple of
waggons as well as the horses. Two _estancieros_, Messrs. Greenshields
and Haddock, accompanied us, as our way led past their farms. I sent
the waggons ahead and rode on afterwards with Burbury and Humphrey
Jones senior. When we came to the place fixed on for our first camp we
found the men had gone on, for there was no water there. We pushed
forward in the dark, and presently the fire of the encampment
glimmered out in front of us; it seemed to be quite near, but it took
a good while to reach. We heard an occasional fox, and as we sat round
the fire a few birds passed in the dark, calling. The first night in
camp is like the first night at sea, a gloomy time.
[Illustration: THE FIRST GUANACO]
The next day we again had a bright sun with a strong west wind. We
chased some pampa foxes and an ostrich (_Rhea darwini_) and killed two
of the former. Jones and Burbury caught a cavy (_Dolichotis
patagonica_). So we marched on over the rolling downs day after day,
sometimes catching a glimpse of the sea, sometimes journeying across
pampas where the far horizons met in pale blue sky and puffed white
clouds above, and below grass and endless scrub. We saw Cayenne plover
(_Vanellus cayennensis_) at an early stage of our travels.
[Illustration: THE START OF OUR LONG TREK]
I have already mentioned the herds of guanaco that roam the interior.
This animal belongs distinctively to South America, and is to be found
nowhere else in the world. Darwin writes of it as follows: "The
guanaco, or wild llama, is the characteristic quadruped of the plains
of Patagonia.... It is an elegant animal in a state of nature, with a
long slender neck and fine legs." In colour the guanaco is of a
golden-brown with white underparts, the hair upon the sides being
somewhat long and fleecy. Enormous herds of from three to five hundred
live upon the pampas, and we were aware that we should chiefly depend
for meat on those we might chance to shoot during many months to come.
One evening, when I was riding ahead with the troop of horses, I saw
my first guanaco. Coming round a bend of the winding _cañadon_, I
looked up and perceived him. The sight was highly picturesque. It was
an old buck standing alone on the top of a cliff some two hundred feet
high and looking down at me. He was posed against a background of pale
green glinting sunset. I had hardly time to unsling my rifle before he
bounded away. We saw many thousands afterwards, but somehow in the
nature of things I shall never forget that first one.
On the coast-farms, which, it must be recollected, are many of them
scores of square leagues in extent, the guanaco grows comparatively
tame, becoming used to the passing of mounted shepherds; but in other
parts of Patagonia, noticeably in the valley of the River Chico of
Chubut, through which we passed later, they are very wild, allowing no
human being to approach within half a mile. This is owing to the
Indians, who hunt them perpetually in that district.
Once in camp in Patagonia life is very enjoyable, though perhaps the
enjoyment varies with the amount of game to be seen. Up at sunrise,
when the sun pokes its big bald lemon-coloured head out of the
bed-clothes of the sky. Then some early camp-man stirs and rises, and
waddles down to the wet grey ashes of yesternight's fire, and soon a
weak trail of smoke goes rocketing away in the wind. The big pot is
put on and breakfast is made and eaten. Then the cargo is packed, and
the horses are rounded up by a Gaucho or two, riding bareback. We
saddle up and the caravan moves off on its leagues-long march.
Marches vary from fifteen miles to forty, and when the afternoon sun
waxes less strong the horses are off-saddled and turned loose, the
waggons unpacked and the camp-fires lighted. _Maté_ eternally, a
roast, tea afterwards and a pipe, and then the sleeping-bags. _Maté_
or _yerba_, I must explain, is the great drink of the pampas, and is
most invigorating. A cup or tin is half filled with the yellow powdery
leaves, to which is added a little cold water, followed by hot. It is
drunk through a _bombilla_ or tube, the maker of the decoction taking
the first pull, and afterwards it passes from hand to hand, and I must
add from mouth to mouth, round the circle. It is the greatest insult
to refuse to partake, and when the originator of the brew happens to
be an old and rather unappetising Tehuelche lady, the effort to take
your turn and look pleased is often something of an ordeal.
Day after day went by in much the same manner, but few remembrances
remain with me more vividly than the pampa fox and cavy hunting which
we enjoyed during those early times of our expedition. Four lurchers
of sorts and my big greyhound, Tom, trotted behind our horses, and
when game was sighted we went after it at full gallop. In that keen
air nothing can be more exhilarating than such a chase over the
broken ground of the pampa, where we were often successful, but among
hummocks and hills the quarry frequently made good its escape.
[Illustration: MR. LANGLEY'S _ESTANCIA_ ON THE ROAD TO BAHIA
CAMERONES]
On the 25th we passed a farm that was quite English in
appearance--wire-fences enclosing sheep and lambs on downs that
descended in undulations to the sea. By evening we were in broken
country patched with red rock. The horses were rather troublesome;
Hughes, one of the Gauchos, rode an untamed mare and gave a good
exhibition of horsemanship. Among the sheep and the hills an Indian
rode down from the high ground; he wore a poncho of red and black,
tinted like autumn trees. His camp consisted of a little fire of three
or four sticks, by which squatted his _china_. He took his place
beside her, and watched our line of waggons and horses wind away out
of sight.
From Trelew to Camerones the country was for the most part like the
bare deer-forests of the Scottish Highlands, brown bracken being
replaced by _espinilla_ (thorn, a general term) and the green shrub
called by the Welshmen "poison-bush," the same blue sky above, the
same occasional lochlike lagoons. For the first two days or more the
pampas stretched to the rim of the horizon, empty and somewhat harsh
even in the sunlight. Now and then mirages like squadrons of cavalry
hovered along the edges of them. A few guanaco and ostriches, a
sprinkling of cavy, and many pampa foxes seemed to eke out an
existence there. It was a land of vast prospects, a scene laid forth
with a sort of noble parsimony, which--as in the case of a miser so
miserly that for the very exceedingness of his vice you respect
him--was yet stupendous in its one or two grandly simple salient
features, and drove the spectator to that admiration which verges
upon fear. Picture one such characteristic vision of Patagonia. As far
as eye could reach a spread of wind-weary grass, roofed by a
wind-blown sky, an eagle poised far off, a dot in the upper air.
Nothing more.
A man alone within this vast setting seemed puny. Lost here, without a
horse, he would be the most helpless of things created. It was across
this gigantic primordialism that our way led us. Three times we made
our camp upon the bare pampas, three times in one or other of the many
_cañadones_ before reaching Bahia Camerones. You may be voyaging at an
easy jog over the pampa, seeing the land roll apparently quite level
to the horizon, when suddenly you come upon a spatter of white sand, a
track leading between the shoulders of the pampa, you dive down and
are lost to sight in a moment; then, perhaps, for four miles or for
fourteen you are riding a couple of hundred feet below the level
spread of the pampa, and as you pass the guanaco on the cliff tops
watch you uneasily. To be lost in such a land is the simplest possible
matter.
On the 27th we arrived at the Estancia Lochiel, where Mr. Greenshields
most kindly entertained us. This _estancia_ is situated at the head of
a _cañadon_, which drops away to the sea eight leagues distant. It
consists of a small colony of wooden houses with corrugated iron
roofs. The Lochiel Sheep Farming Company, of which Mr. Greenshields is
manager, have 15,000 sheep and forty square leagues of camp. "Camp,"
you must understand, in Patagonia means land.
The day after our arrival Scrivenor and Burbury accompanied Mr.
Frederick Haddock to his farm, eight leagues away, in order to bring
back the horses I had purchased by contract in Trelew. I remained
behind as Mr. Greenshields' guest, for a puma was reported by the
shepherd to have killed five sheep upon the edge of the farm during
the previous night.
Macdonald, the Scotch shepherd, Barckhausen and I set out to see if we
could find the puma. On my way to the spot I shot my first guanaco. He
appeared upon the skyline doing sentinel, possibly against the very
puma we were after. We rode under the hill on which the guanaco was
watching, and he began to move uneasily. At the bend of the hill was a
small hollow, and, as we rode through this, I told my companions to
ride on and threw them my _cabresto_ (leading-rope of a horse). I slid
off the horse and crawled up the hill. Upon the bare face of it was a
thicket of poison-bush, and into this I ultimately made my way. The
sentinel guanaco was there above me, stretching out his long neck, and
every now and then giving his high neighing laugh. When one hundred
and twenty yards off he saw me, and I had to snap him quickly. Swing
went his neck, and away he galloped with his swift, uneven gait. I
thought I had missed him, when, to my delight, he began to slacken
speed, and finally lay down in an ungainly attitude, his long neck
crooked in a curve in front of him. I crawled nearer, and up he got
and was off again. I ran down to my horse and mounted, and Macdonald
let Tom, my hound, loose. We galloped the guanaco up. He was very sick
indeed, and inside of three hundred yards Tom pulled him down again.
The Mauser bullet had hit him two inches behind the shoulder about
half way down the body. It had not come out. How he managed to get so
far I cannot understand. We then went onwards, and saw by the way
several herds of guanaco. I did not shoot any more, however, as they
were uncommonly tame, and there was, of course, mutton at the
_estancia_. We reached the spot on the hills above the puma's kill,
low thorn bushes, vast mountain and blue sea, but no sign of the puma
was to be found. These animals will often travel four or five leagues
after a kill.
[Illustration: FREDERICK BARCKHAUSEN]
By the way, when you fire at a guanaco they will sway their heads
downwards with an odd sort of ducking motion. Not one individual but a
whole herd will do this at any unaccustomed sound. The effect is most
curious.
While at Bahia Camerones our party was completed. We took with us
five Gauchos, who are active, handy men as a rule. The population of
the country is largely composed of Gauchos; in fact, they form the
foundation of Patagonian life.
They live by the horse, and the horse lives by them. They drive mobs
of cattle or of horses for owners across three degrees of latitude to
sell them. They have been born in the camp, live in the camp, and will
very likely die there also. In Patagonia they treat their horses in a
method very different to that which we employ in our crowded country.
There nature gives grass, water, and the horse; man tames the animal
as little as possible from his wild state, and forces an alliance with
nature. At night the mares are hobbled and the horses turned loose;
while the Gauchos light their camp-fire and drink _maté_ through the
_bombilla_.
At the first light next morning they take it in turn to bring in the
troop, which they do with an astonishing swiftness. Sometimes, of
course, the horses "clear," and then it is that the Gauchos in charge
find them by tracking.
In a country intersected by deep _cañadones_, which offer a secure
hiding-place in their many hollows, this is a difficult matter. The
tracks perhaps run easily through a belt of soft marsh, and then are
invisible upon a pampa of shingle and thorn.
A true Gaucho must be able to do a number of things--to back an
untamed colt, to lassoo, to use the _boleadores_, which are heavy
stones attached together by a hide rope, and are to the Patagonian
what the boomerang is to the Australian aborigine. He must be able to
cook, to make horse-gear from the pelts of beasts, to find his way
without a compass from point to point, by instinct as it were.
The Gaucho shares with the poet the honour of being born, not made.
This proves that Gaucho work is Art, with a big A. Take, for instance,
the power of driving single-handed a big mob of wild horses and
keeping them compact. No one who has not tried it can imagine what
heartbreaking work it is to a beginner. One learns to do it after a
fashion in time, but never like the man who has been bred to the
craft.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Since writing the above I learn that a German line has put
steamers upon this route.
CHAPTER III
THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES
Leave Bahia Camerones -- Horses wild -- Decide on taking
one waggon -- Bell-mare -- Names of horses -- Breaking-in
of horses -- German _peones_ -- Horses stray -- Gaucho
trick -- Watching troop at night -- Four languages --
Signalling by smokes -- Searching for horses -- Favourite
words and phrases -- Nag of the baleful eye -- _Cañadon_
of the dry river -- Bad ground -- Flies -- Ostrich eggs --
Shooting guanaco -- River Chico of Chubut -- Puma's visit
at night -- Condor -- Lady killed -- Singing in camp --
Stormy night -- Breakdown of waggon -- Guanaco on stony
ground -- Long chase -- Guanaco's death.
I will not bore my readers with all the technicalities of our
preparations for the real start.
Suffice it to say that our total belongings were stowed upon a waggon
and on the backs of four pack-horses. We had in all sixty horses, and
eight men. About forty of these horses had been running wild upon the
pampa for eight months previous to our acquiring them. During that
time they had been lost and had only been recaptured shortly before
our arrival in Trelew. The purchase of them was, however, the best
speculation I could make under the circumstances, since all the
animals were good and sound. Had I bought by small instalments in
Trelew, not only would every man within journeying distance have very
naturally attempted to palm off upon me the worst and most vicious
animals he possessed, but the horses, not being used to one another's
company, would have been impossible to keep together at night upon the
pampas, as the various sections composing such a _tropilla_ would
inevitably have scattered to the four points of the compass.
Patagonian horses, which are descended from those brought over by the
Spaniards in the sixteenth century, are never stabled, but are turned
out rain and snow in their troops. These troops or _tropillas_ consist
of any number from six animals to thirty, and to each is assigned a
_madrina_, or bell-mare, which is never ridden, and which is trained
to be caught easily. At night she is hobbled, and her troop remain
round about her. Naturally a well-trained _madrina_ is one affair,
while a badly-trained one is quite another. In my mob of horses I had
four troops, two good madrinas and one bad one, while the fourth was a
_rosada_, whose sole object in life seemed to be to get away from her
own troop and to kick any one who came within ten feet of her.
[Illustration: A PAMPA ROUND-UP]
When you desire to put a strange horse or colt into a troop, it is
necessary to couple him to the _madrina_ for some days, after which he
will remain with the troop. The _madrina_ should never be driven in
hobbles, a mistake that is often made when bringing in the horses of a
morning. A horse used to hobbles can travel in them four or five
leagues in a single night, so the reason why the mares should not be
allowed ever to become used to travelling in hobbles is obvious. The
_madrina_ has a bell attached to her neck, and the last sound heard
before you sleep is the soft tinkle of these bells and the comfortable
sound of feeding horses, unless the troop happens to take it into
their head to make off, in which case you will have a long ride upon
their tracks in the morning.
The horses throughout the Argentine Republic are known by their
colours (for which the Spanish language supplies an extraordinary
variety of terms signifying every tint and shade), and to these names
they answer. Some of the names are melodious and pretty--_alazan_,
which means chestnut, _cruzado_, the name given to a horse that
possesses alternate white feet, the off fore and the near hind foot,
or the other way round. There is a theory among the Gauchos that a
_cruzado_ will never tire. I cannot do better than give a list of the
names of the horses of my own _tropilla_, though, of course, there are
many others:
_Alazan_, chestnut.
_Asulejo_, bluish-grey and white in patches.
_Bayo_, fawn.
_Blanco_, white.
_Cruzado_, with crossed white feet.
_Gateado_, yellow with black stripe down back.
_Horqueta_, slit-eared.
_Moro_, grey.
_Oscuro_, black.
_Overo_, piebald or skewbald.
_Pangaré_, brown or bay with fawn muzzle.
_Picaso_, black with white blaze and white legs.
_Rosado_, red and white in patches, roan.
_Rosillo_, strawberry.
_Tordillo_, grey.
_Tostado_, toast-coloured.
_Zaino_, brown or dark bay.
The taming of these horses is a business of which an account may not
be uninteresting. The methods used are of a very rough description.
The colt is caught from the _manada_, or troop of mares in which he
was born, with a lasso, a head-stall is put on him and he is tied up
to the _palenque_, or centre-post of the corral. Here he is left for
twelve hours or so, during which he generally expends his energies in
trying to pull the _palenque_ out of the ground. He is then saddled
up, generally with an accompaniment of bucking, and the Gaucho who is
to tame him climbs upon his back. Another mounted Gaucho is near by to
"ride off," which he does by galloping between the colt and any
dangerous ground or object. Probably the colt will begin by bucking,
but if he does not do so during his first gallop it by no means
follows that he will turn out to be free from the fault. Indeed it is
quite probable that he may be soft and fat after his easy youth upon
the pampas, and not till about the fifth or sixth gallop will he show
such vices as are in him. At first he is ridden on the _bocado_, which
is a soft strip of hide tied round the lower jaw. This answers to the
heavy snaffle which is the first bit a colt has to submit to in
England.
The Gauchos of Patagonia are not nearly patient enough with the mouths
of their mounts, spoiling many by harsh treatment. Different colours
in horses are supposed to indicate different temperaments; thus they
say a _Moro_ colt is generally docile, while a _Picaso_ has the
reputation of being very much the reverse.
The horses of Northern Patagonia--such as were ours, for they came
from the banks of the Rio Negro--are reputed to be more spirited than
those bred in the south. But this theory is possibly owing to the fact
that the average Gaucho of the north is a better rider than his
brother of the south. The horses are, I fancy, much the same.
Many Patagonian horses are what may be called "quick to mount,"
starting at a canter as soon as their rider's foot touches the
stirrup. This also is the fault of the breakers-in. There are few
tricks more annoying or, upon a hillside, more dangerous.
After this short description my readers will be able to understand
more fully the happenings which I am about to describe.
On October 3 we set out from Mr. Greenshields', and at the moment of
starting Fritz Gleditzsch, a German from Dresden, whom I had brought
with me from Buenos Aires, and whom I had engaged on the best
recommendations, came to me and told me that he could not go farther
because he had had no meat to eat upon the previous night. As the
meat-shed was situated about two hundred yards from where my men were
encamped, and as he had free access to it, I began to understand that
Fritz was something of an old soldier. Had I been able to get another
man to replace him on the spot I should have done so, but with my
large troop of horses I was more or less in the hands of my _peones_,
a not uncommon difficulty to overtake the traveller in Patagonia, and
one upon which many _peones_ count.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING ROUTE OF EXPEDITION THROUGH PATAGONIA.]
The real reason for Fritz's recalcitrance turned out to be the
arrival in my camp of a compatriot and erstwhile companion, Hans
Hollesen, who had applied to join the expedition. I took them both
along, for, having paid Master Fritz's way from Buenos Aires, I did
not relish the notion of obtaining no return for the outlay, and I
knew that, once we passed Colohuapi, I should be master of the
situation.
I heard months afterwards from a New Zealander, who had been on board
the _Primero de Mayo_ with Fritz, that that gentleman was looking
forward to a soft job, and had boasted that he would certainly desert
us if we marched more than ten miles a day.
Our first march was about three leagues, and we made our camp beside a
small shallow lagoon upon which a couple of ashy-headed geese
(_Bernicla poliocephala_) were swimming. I shot them both for the pot.
It was about six o'clock when we camped, and Burbury, who was in
charge of the horses, took every possible precaution to prevent their
straying, a very likely contingency upon their first night in the open
pampa. In spite of the fact that the horses were watched all night,
morning found us with but thirty-seven out of the whole number. Soon
after daylight Burbury, with some of the men, rode out to recover
them. They returned unsuccessful. During the morning a wandering
Gaucho came into camp and said he had seen some horses in a _cañadon_
near by. The Welshmen rode out there but came back disappointed, as
the horses were not ours. At eleven o'clock next morning I sent three
of the men back to Mr. Haddock's, from whose _estancia_ the lost troop
had been acquired, the probabilities being that they had headed back
for home. But shortly after Burbury and the Germans returned with the
horses, which had travelled about nine miles, and were discovered
calmly feeding in a _cañadon_. It was Burbury who discovered them by a
smart piece of Gaucho work.
Next night, October 6, we watched the horses in turns. It was a cold
night lit by a moon. We had some reason to believe that our Gaucho
friend of the day before had not been altogether innocent in
connection with the straying of the horses. Such a man will ride
quietly through the scattered horses feeding in the gloom and
stampede them. He will follow a small mob and drive them into some
fold of the hills, such as, no doubt, he knows a dozen of, and hide
them there until, after several days, a reward is offered by the
owner. The Gaucho will then ride casually into the camp, drink a
_maté_, hear the story, and remark that he is well acquainted with the
country round. If asked whether he can give any opinion as to the
whereabouts of the lost horses, he says, "_Quien sabe?_" but suggests
they may be in a "_cañadon muy limpio_," to which horses often stray.
In reply to any question as to where the _cañadon_ may lie, he
replies, "Over there," and waves his hand half round the compass. He
may add that he is looking for seven mares of his own that strayed
away last Friday week or he would himself undertake the office of
guide. If any hint of payment be given, he goes on to say that, since
his mares have been lost so long they may remain lost a little longer,
while he guides and aids the travellers in their search, not, of
course, for the money's worth, that will not recompense him for the
mares, which may wander away altogether out of the province because of
his delay in looking for them, but because he would do a kindness to
persons for whom he has conceived a liking. So he acts as guide, and,
after a decent interval, finds the horses and pouches his reward. It
is an excellent trade, as there is no risk and plenty of emolument to
recommend it, and, in fact, it is a common enough trick in Patagonia.
I sat most of the night by the fire--except when my turn came to ride
round the horses, which we had placed in a small hollow--writing up my
diary by the light of the fire, and watching the men ride in and out
of the moonlight and the shadows. As the night advanced the cold
increased. The moon left us about 3.30 A.M. and it became very dark.
As I circled on my beat I passed by a wild cat. Morning found the
horses all right. We had, however, to delay a little to allow of our
men returning from Haddock's.
On October 7 we fared forth once more upon our way, and the ill-luck
that had attended us at this first camp was with us up to the last
moment of the three days we spent there, for as the waggon began to
move off an _alazan_ fell beneath the front wheel, which passed clean
over his near fore leg. Strangely enough, owing to some inequality of
the ground, the waggon, although very heavily laden, did not hurt the
animal. He was not even cut, and when we got him up he resumed his
journey as if nothing had happened, and eventually turned out one of
our best horses.
[Illustration: J. B. SCRIVENOR (GEOLOGIST) AND MULA]
We now made two or three good marches in succession, but on October
10, in spite of all precautions, the horses belonging to the black
mare's troop deserted her.[2] Upon this, finding that until the horses
of the different troops became more used to each other, it would be
almost impossible to keep them together on the open pampas, where, as
a further disadvantage, the grass was poor and sparse, and the horses
had to scatter a great deal to feed, I decided to cut across to the
Rio Chico of Chubut and march along the river valley, the tall cliffs
of which would serve as a barrier to prevent the _tropilla_ straying.
Never was such an awful place as these pampas in which to lose
anything, or, worse still, to get lost yourself. You ride a hundred
yards or so and you are in some deep-mouthed _cañadon_, lying flush
with the pampa, and out of sight of your companions in an instant.
On the expedition we spoke four languages--Spanish, English, German
and Welsh, but English was more used than the others.
On one occasion we had to light a couple of fires to signal some of
the men who were out looking for horses; one of these spread rather
much, but was easily put out with a spade. It is strange how small an
area burns in that part of the country, even with a high wind to help
the flames. The weather was windy and bitterly cold.
I extract the following from my diary:
"_October 10, evening._--I write this by the camp-fire. The men take
it in turns to cook. Two armadillos (_Dasypus minutus_) have been
caught by the Germans. They are strong little beasts; you can hardly
pull one, which has half buried itself in the ground, out with both
hands. We roast them whole with hot stones and they taste like
chicken. Fritz and Hollesen went for the horses this morning and found
three of the Trelew troop gone, the Tordillo, the Zaino, and the
Blanco, and this although one was _maneado_ and the other two tied
together. This is a great hindrance. We got the waggon ready on the
interminable pampa and decided to strike down at once for the Rio
Chico by way of a large _cañadon_ four and a half leagues long. This
will add some days to our journey to Colohuapi. But if we continue
losing and searching for horses, shall we ever get there? One day we
cover twenty-one miles, the next nothing, because of strayed horses.
Nor can you _soga_ them up, for the grass is poor and they must have a
large range. Here we are in this huge country looking for horses upon
and about a pampa intersected by many _cañadones_, each of which would
take an entire week to explore thoroughly. At breakfast I decided to
march, sending Jones, who is a good tracker, off to see if he could
find the horses where he found them yesterday.
"We have a big buck-jumper, a piebald, which is a strong horse suited
to the waggon. It took an hour and a half to get him harnessed, and we
started on the back track, for the _cañadon_ we must strike lies a
league behind us. Barckhausen was to ride an untamed black horse with
the strangest light blue glimmering eyes, which for some reason makes
me repeat over and over to myself the lines of Q.:
"His glittering eyes are the salt seas' prize,
And his fingers clutch the sand.
"Rather far fetched, but so it always is. One notices how much in
camp-life a man gets into the habit of a 'Punch, brothers, punch'--a
haunting phrase which he applies to everything. In one case it is some
grim and grotesque oath that he mentally lives on, sometimes it is a
line of a hymn, sometimes it is a bit of an advertisement. There are
few books in the camp, and mine not out yet from the tin box. The
Welshmen have a Bible in their own language; Hollesen has a paper of
short stories about missing heirs and such like; Scrivenor has
'Pickwick.'
[Illustration: THE BIG OVERO, A BUCKJUMPER]
"But to return to Barckhausen. The nag of the baleful eye would not be
caught, and had to be chased about the pampa by Hughes and myself.
Finally, Jones got a lasso on him, and he danced at the edge of the
lagoon with four men at the other end of the lasso. We tied his legs
in slip-knots and pulled him over, and when quieter saddled him. He
bucked around with the saddle. At length Barckhausen got up and rode
him the whole afternoon. It was a terrible job driving the horses, and
that even though we were in the _cañadon_.
"On each side of us were bare, bald grass hills, rolling in hummocks
and their sides sprinkled with thorn-scrub. In the centre, winding in
sharp bends, a dry river bed. Towards evening, after travelling all
the afternoon down the _cañadon_ since one o'clock, I rode on and
found the bed of the river held water in four places. Near the third
of these we camped. Saw an ostrich and a few sentinel guanaco. Caught
an armadillo. The scenery here consists of alternations of pampa and
_cañadon_, _cañadon_ and pampa, and over all the tearing wind, which
seldom drops.
"I have given out two tins of jam and one of Swiss milk, one of coffee
and milk and some vegetables. Sometimes we soak our biscuit and bake
it. It is very good treated so. I am writing this by the fire at seven
o'clock. Coldish.
"Jones has not turned up yet, and must have had to sleep out in
nothing save a blanket, poor chap! He was to have cut our tracks and
followed them up.
"_October 11._--All our _tropillas_ right this morning, and at 8.30 I
rode out of the camp and met Jones, who had found the three strayed
horses about a league from the old camp.
"We started and made our way down the empty river-bed, which now
broadened and was pebbly, like a Scotch trout-stream. Before we left
Mal Espina _estancia_ the foreman told us the road down the _cañadon_
was very clear--'_muy limpio_,' and only four and a half leagues in
length, but we have been in it two days and are in it still. About 5,
as I was riding ahead with the troop of horses, I came upon the track
of wheels in deep scrub. I went back to the waggon and found it on the
left bank of the river-bed. Upon one side were thorn-bush and sand,
and upon the other a swampy _vega_ of wet grass. Through this the
track led, and into this the waggon lumbered, then two of the horses
foundered in the black mud and the waggon sank. Of course that put an
end to our day's journey, and I sent on Jones to bring back Burbury
and the troop. We were in a land of many flies, chiefly sand-flies,
which buzzed and stung horribly. Jones had tied up the horses on the
Rio Chico and we could not reach them to-night. Fritz found sixteen
eggs in an ostrich's nest and Hollesen found one. The one was fine but
the sixteen were chickenny.
"We all turned to, unloaded the waggon and pulled it out with some
toil from the marsh, and before dinner loaded it up again.
"By evening we reached the _cañadon_ of the Rio Chico and camped upon
the banks.
"_October 12._--With an effort got away by nine o'clock. I rode on
down the _cañadon_, as we had no meat and some was wanted. We appear
to be now entering a good game country. Saw five ostriches. I rode the
big Tostado. He loped lazily across stony ridges, which crawl to the
foot of the purple hills that are on the other side of the Chico. Two
herds of guanaco fled while I was on the horizon. I cantered a long
way, it seemed very far, over the rolling ridges of pebble and
thorn-bush. Mirages smoked and danced on the horizon. I came at length
to the waggon-track which runs through the wild gorge of the Chico,
and is only used about once or twice a year. I rode down this track,
and at the side found a single ostrich egg. Shortly after I sighted
the horses, which Jones had tied up here and there. I left my belt and
the egg, and went back into the scrub to seek for that game which I
could not find. Saw one guanaco, but it had seen me first, and would
not let me approach within a quarter of a mile. Sighted the horses and
waggon far away on the high ground and rode to meet them. Put them in
a new troop and got away again at one o'clock. Found that if I could
not shoot a guanaco we must open our reserve of tinned meat, and I did
not wish to begin upon it so soon. Rode on ahead of the troop
revolving these matters. My horse was extra lazy. I was thinking of
the ostriches I had observed when I saw over a ridge to the left the
ears of a guanaco. There was a dry nullah-bed which curved in beneath
the ridge. It was pebbly and sparsely set with thorn. I lay down and
crawled until I came to some water, and then I looked again. I could
see the first guanaco, an old buck, peering with his long neck
swaying, and looking at the Tostado which I had tied up. To tie up
your horse in view is the most successful thing you can do in this
country of long-necked game, and of game which is so often pursued
with dogs and on horseback. Sometimes the most ordinary game takes,
from the circumstances surrounding its pursuit, a reflected interest
not its own. So it was in this case; nor, indeed, is the guanaco
always an easy quarry, in fact it is a shy animal in the districts
where it is hunted by Indians.[3] I crawled along, just a thorn-bush,
and that a lean one, between me and detection. I had set my hopes on a
low green belt of poison-scrub, and this I attained at last. From it I
saw a foot of the big buck's neck and the heads and ears of six more.
I had made up my mind to take a fine bead shot, but he gave me no
chance of doing so. I had only time to snap him as he saw me. The
bullet smashed his neck. As the others ran away I put two shots out of
four into one, and killed it as it entered the scrub of thick, thorny,
califate bushes that lived hardily there in the valley. I went on
after shooting the guanaco and left Fritz and Hughes to cut up the
meat. We made a league and a half through the gorge of the Chico when
up came Fritz and said the waggon was broken down by, so he explained,
a "horse falling on the pole" within a hundred yards of where I had
shot the guanaco. This was a disaster indeed. Here were we just doing
a good march when this wretched breakdown occurred. We turned the
troop and went back only to find the waggon, a league away, coming
merrily towards us. They said it could go no farther, but after
repairs it achieved a league and a half more.
[Illustration: THE HUNTER'S RETURN]
"Passing along we agreed it was a good country for lions (_F. c.
puma_, locally called lions). We encamped beneath a high cliff, sixty
feet of moss-grown basaltic rock beside the muddy river, where it
winds through the marshes. In the night the dogs began to bark, for a
lion came into camp. We could hear it moving by the dead camp-fire
among the pots and pans. Burbury fired his revolver in its direction;
he was sleeping on the outside of the tent. This morning we have found
the lion's lair, twenty yards up in the rock above our camp. Fritz
said last night, 'And if you hear me cry out, it is the lion, he zomp
on me.'
[Illustration: _FELIS CONCOLOR PUMA_]
"Fritz is very jocular sometimes: 'Aha, my little horse, he zomp!' and
'Mine little bitch, you go and catch a guanaco.' To-night he was
roasting an ostrich egg and it exploded and shot him all over with
yellow yolk. He remarked, 'He is goot, this egg, but he smell a bit of
skunk.'
"_October 13._--Mending waggon, no wood. At ten o'clock waggon mended
but needed a rest in the sun till the hide of guanaco we had bound it
with should dry. So I decided to take to-day as our Sunday and march
to-morrow. Burbury is making a plum-duff. Served out tobacco this
morning.
"Mock Sunday and at rest, a time for dreaming. Away at home the trees
are browning. How one's heart turns to them and dreams of them! The
men born out here wonder how we can look forward to the happiness of
going home, perhaps for the sight of some village church hidden in
English lanes and fields. Half the charm of this life we are living
out here lies in thinking of our return to the land that gives us all
comfort and a silent welcome of green springs. Went out to-day after
the lion and found tracks, but the ground was too hard for following
them up. He lives in a valley of grey dead bush. As we went away from
the dead guanaco yesterday, a condor (_Sarcorhamphus_ _gryphus_)
appeared and dropped on the carcase almost before we left it.
[Illustration: GUANACO HOUNDS. (FATHER AND MOTHER OF THE AUTHOR'S
HOUND, TOM.)]
"_October 14, Sunday._--We got away at nine o'clock and came fast. The
muddy narrow Chico flowing through a land which looks as if it led
over the edge of the world. It reminds one of a flowering wilderness.
Last night we tied up the dogs, and dear old Tom howled till I had to
get up and correct him. When up I let poor little Lady loose, the last
service I was ever destined to do for her, for to-day the waggon went
over her belly, and she lies dead on the track a few leagues back. She
was six months old, always cheerful, and wagging her whip of a tail,
always up to the march. Half an hour before she died I saw her hunting
a young fox, her first. She had brown eyes and I had got fonder of her
than I knew. Tom used to drive her from her food, biting her, and from
the softest bed, and I am now glad to think I sometimes made him give
way to her. Just before Lady's death, I shot a cavy (_Dolichotis
patagonica_) with the Mauser. He gave me a nice shot sitting up on
his haunches, near the track on the skyline of a low bare ridge.
Yesterday we had a very fine _puchero_ or stew, pickled eggs given me
by Pedro at Camerones and two plum-duffs made with waggon-grease by
Burbury, who is quite a _chef_ at plum-duff. After our meal we had out
the concertina and found that Burbury knew 'The Church's One
Foundation,' and Jones a melancholy Welsh hymn.
"The two best of my horses have sore backs.
"We spent an hour trying to get the waggon up a steep ridge 100 feet
high, and had to unload and all work at it. Made a long seven leagues
and encamped at the foot of a ridge with 200 yards of dead bush
between us and the yellow Chico. Going very pebbly, the ground here
and there burnt up and arid. It is always in such places that the
mirages are most common.
"_October 15._--Got off 8.40. At 11 unloaded waggon, which was in
great danger of turning over. Scrivenor photoed it. At 2.20 waggon
horses unfit to go farther. Camped by the Chico; shot a yellow-billed
teal.
"_October 16._--Out of humour all day, first, because, I found one of
the cameras put unprotected into the waggon among the tins of potted
meat, &c. Wearily, wearily we wend our way towards the blue distant
hills of our desires. Even as in life we wend towards distant
ambitions, and, coming up to them, find new ones arise upon the
horizon beyond, and so we travel all our days, looking longingly
ahead. This valley of the Chico is a wild place, conical hillocks of
sand have now taken the place of the bush-covered ones. The Chico
remains yellow and winds greatly. Purple hills crown the distance. It
is all high-coloured and clear-shaded as in a picture.
"To-day, coming round a bend of the Chico glen, I saw seven guanaco
feeding in the valley. They had seen me and begun to move, so I
galloped round the ridge, and as I jumped off my horse one passed and
halted within seventy yards. The herd made a pretty picture standing
on the bare, desert-brown hillside in the tearing wind. I clean missed
the buck with the first shot, and only killed him as he ran off,
hitting him low behind the shoulder. The wind was blowing hard to-day
and full in our faces.
"A windy night, the sand of the river-bed driving and filling
everything. Presently we shall crawl into our sleeping-bags and, with
our feet to the wind, bid any weather defiance. A pipe is a mighty
ally. Here am I in the little 4 ft. tent which Burbury and Scrivenor
have pitched to sleep in, wrapped in a poncho a-reek with the smoke of
Indian camp-fires, enjoying a pipe and writing this, and as it grows
too dark to write and the wind roars and bellows louder down the
river-bed, I shall sit here watching the red glow of my pipe and
dreaming.
"_October 17, 9 o'clock._--A month hence from to-day will be my
birthday. Where shall we be? At the Lake Buenos Aires, I hope. Several
horses this morning have sore backs, and Burbury, excellent fellow,
has been doctoring them.
"How the face of this country changes with the weather! Bleak and
windy even in warm sunlight, though fine and bracing; in evil weather
it wears an aspect of forlornness. The farther you penetrate into
Patagonia the more its vast emptiness weighs on you and overwhelms
you.
"_Eleven o'clock._--Where shall we be a month hence? Where, indeed?
To-day we had a great disappointment, and I hardly know how to write
of it. The natural difficulties of the country are very great, but
with care, in spite of boulders and hard-going, it seemed as if I
could get my waggon up to the foothills, and I looked forward to
bringing back many specimens in it. But after 300 and odd miles of
travel a particularly hummocky valley proved too much for its
endurance. When the horses tried to move it this morning it broke up
altogether, and here it lies!
"Total day's march, 200 yards. Burbury and Jones have ridden on
towards Colohuapi, where there are some pioneers' huts, to try and get
wood and bolts. What is to be done? I do not know. Take to
_cargueros_? We could bring back no specimens to speak of in that
case. One must wait and see what Burbury can get from the people at
Colohuapi. The camp is in a valley and is surrounded by bare mud cones
100 feet in height, a few bushes shiver in the throat of the upper end
of the gorge. In the gorge and round our camp-fire spreads a growth of
rank lean weed, full of yellow flowers, and a few small wind-polished
stones lie at the base of one of the ant-heaplike hills.
"'Oh, the dreary, dreary moorland! Oh, the weary, weary shore' (of the
Chico)! I took my gun down to the river and shot five widgeon (_Mareca
sibilatrix_) and six martinetas (_Calodromas elegans_).
"Late in the evening Scrivenor and I went up over the ridge of bare
hills rather with the idea of shooting, if possible, a condor we had
seen poised high up. Sight at back came off Scrivenor's Mauser.[4] We
went on and saw a herd of guanaco, one much nearer than the rest, and
we crawled towards him. The stones were a penance. The only cover was
thorn, and little of that up there on the high pampa above the valley
where our camp is. At two hundred yards I shot and hit him, but he
went on, and presently swayed his neck and lay down. I crawled up and
had a shot at his neck. Thereafter followed periods of cantering in a
rickety way, followed by periods of lying down, and at last we went
round over a rise and crawled down on him. I thought he was dead but
for the shadow of his neck, and I crawled on with but one cartridge
left in my gun. As I neared him, up he got and I fired again and hit
him. He was growing very weak. Scrivenor shouted that he had no
revolver, and so here were we with only our knives. I followed the
guanaco and Scrivenor went round. I was upon him first but my knife
was weak. Scrivenor, startled from his usual calm, and with a shout,
leaped at the guanaco and caught him round the neck. So we bore him to
earth and slew him. I examined him for wounds and found four. Two of
the shots were vital, yet he had led us a chase of two and a half
miles, and we had to carry the meat back to camp. Arrived there, and
preparing a meal by the fire, in came Burbury and Jones. They had met
a Gaucho trekking to Colohuapi, who told them that Colohuapi was yet
twenty-five leagues away and that there were no bolts or wood to be
had there. I went to bed and smoked, feeling pretty sad. There is but
one thing to do. We must jettison some of the cargo and sew up the
rest in the skins of guanacos, and go forward with pack-horses."
FOOTNOTES:
[2] When a mare is in foal--as was the case with the black mare--her
troop will often desert her and wander away, but when the foal is born
the horses become very much attached to it.
[3] Darwin describes the guanaco as "generally wild and extremely
wary."
[4] This happened in the case of two Mausers I had with me. One came
off at the third shot from the mere recoil--a serious business.
CHAPTER IV
THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES--(_continued_)
First march with pack-horses -- Difficulties -- Friendship
among horses -- The melancholy Zaino -- Revolt of an old
philosopher -- Shifting cargoes -- Reach River Chico --
Guanaco-shooting -- A glimpse of a puma -- Pumas and sheep
-- Arrival at Colohuapi -- Hospitality of pioneers -- The
value of horse-brands.
Morning (19th) came to us very grey with a pallid sun, and ushered in
the first day of the new system. We found it necessary to use sixteen
horses as _cargueros_ or pack-horses. In the early dawn we caught the
chosen animals, and tied them up to the smashed waggon. It is one of
the inconveniences of pampa travel that bushes strong enough to hold a
horse which is at all restive are few and far between. In that
particular spot there was absolutely nothing in the way of a bush,
however small, which could by any chance have borne the strain.
[Illustration: READY TO BE CARGOED]
So we tied them up to the waggon and they immediately proceeded to tie
themselves and their headropes into still more complicated knots: they
made cats' cradles, reef-knots, sliding nooses, a dozen knots one knew
and a dozen one had never dreamed of. Of the sixteen horses, half had
never had a cargo on their backs until that day; we had meant to break
them in, but the waggon succumbed too soon to the hardships of the
way, and before we had had time to carry out our intentions.
During the three days we remained in camp among the strong-scented
yellow flowers where the waggon lay, all hands had been hard at work
sewing up stores into the skins of guanacos, which I had killed for
food on the march. The proper arranging of packs for horses is a very
difficult matter; shape, size and weight have all to be considered.
Each cargo should be divided into three portions, the balance of the
two sides being carefully adjusted, and the centre piece, that which
surmounts the pack-saddle, should not be more than twelve inches high.
There should be at least two rugs and a sheepskin underneath the
saddle. As we had not enough sheepskins, the pelts of guanaco were in
some cases made to serve our purpose. Several different forms of
pack-saddle have each of them points to recommend them, but to my mind
the form used on the cattle-plains of North America is preferable to
any other, and is more easily loaded, as the horse can be led between
the two side-packs, which are hung along upon hooks attached to the
wooden frame of the saddle. The whole cargo is best kept in place by
means of a couple of _cinches_ or girths. This form of pack is,
however, but little used in the Argentine Republic. With such
pack-saddles Hähansen and I, at a later date, travelled one hundred
and fifty miles, during which it was not necessary to stop more than
once or twice to readjust the cargoes.
During the whole of our subsequent wanderings, the horses entered so
much into our lives that some descriptive remarks having regard to the
peculiarities of each will perhaps not be out of place. Any one who
has been thrown very much into a close association with horses can
hardly have failed to notice the extraordinary friendships which these
animals not infrequently form between themselves.
Among our troop there was a pale bronze-coloured horse to which the
Spanish language assigns the term _Gateado_. This creature's whole
life was spent in close attendance upon the largest horse in the
_tropilla_, a piebald, called by us the Big Overo. The Big Overo was a
buck-jumper, and when we wanted to catch him, he and the Gateado, his
intimate, were wont to evade us together. If we could catch the Big
Overo by craft, the Gateado was as good as captured also; but if,
unluckily, our first attempt upon the Big Overo failed, both animals
made a point of charging about the camp and frightening all the other
horses. On one occasion, when it was judged well to give the Big Overo
a lesson, Hughes _bolassed_ him and after a gallop of a couple of
hundred yards he came to the ground in an inextricable tangle.[5] The
Gateado remained by his side and allowed himself to be caught without
any struggle. After a time the intimacy between these horses grew to
such a pitch that we gradually dispensed with a rope for the Gateado,
knowing that if the Big Overo was once tied up his friend would stand
beside him and allow us to put on his cargo quietly. This odd
friendship finally reached such an extreme that when the Big Overo was
_sogaed_ out for the night, the Gateado was in the habit of giving up
his hours of feeding in order to satisfy the claims of friendship. The
feeling was mutual, for the Big Overo manifested almost as many proofs
of his preference.
[Illustration: MRS TRELEW]
Another case of friendship was struck up between two of the
_madrinas_, but this was an essentially feminine affection, all upon
one side. The Rosada would follow the Trelew mare, who was in foal,
and would hardly allow her to feed in peace. Mrs. Trelew, as the men
nicknamed the round-barrelled old black mare, objected very strongly
to the advances of her admirer, and once they had a regular quarrel
owing to Mrs. Trelew kicking the Rosada with such force as to nearly
break her ribs, which the latter rather resented. The Rosada was a
vicious unbacked brute within five yards of whose heels it was unsafe
to approach, and she, in common with the long-maned Little Zaino,
acquired the execrable habit of attempting to kick any one who on
horseback ventured to come near. This is a trick that is very rare
even among the most untamable and vicious horses, which, although they
will kick a man on foot, will seldom do so when he is mounted.
[Illustration: YEGUA ROSADA]
Then there was the Old Zaino, a melancholy animal of the sardonic
school. He was the worst of all the horses. I remember once Burbury
making me laugh very much by saying in a moment of indignation: "You
haven't been a colt these thirty years, you evergreen son of a
buckjumper!" This horse had a way of coming to standstill in the very
centre of the troop on the march, and, after regarding us with a
patient but baleful eye, he would solemnly buck all his cargo off and
attempt to kick it to pieces. At one time he was used as a
riding-horse, having, indeed, a turn for speed, but his paces were so
rough and his trick of rearing as one was mounting so uncomfortable
that we were compelled to make him one of the _cargueros_.
But perhaps the horse that caused us the most amusement was the
Asulejo. He was a sort of uncertain dapple-grey in colour, and to look
at him you would say that a more quiet, lazy, say-nothing-to-anybody
little bit of old age did not crop the grass in Patagonia. Often and
often did we feel sorry for that little animal and lighten his load.
One afternoon, as we came along with the waggon, he seemed to be
thinking more and more of the past, of the time when he had the power
to make his riders sit tight and used to be a creature of some
truculence. He had upon his back a light cargo of cooking-pots, and it
took the undivided attention of one man to keep him at a walk. We
fixed our camp upon an open plateau of coarse grass and thorn beside a
lagoon in a shallow hollow. The cargoes were pulled off and the cook
of the night made a grateful smoke ascend. I took a shot-gun and went
after some geese for the morrow's breakfast. It was, perhaps, an hour
and a half later, and a good league from camp, that I heard the
neighing of horses, and was surprised to see seventeen of our troop
hurrying off, as it were, upon some unknown errand. And well in front
of them--could I believe my eyes?--was the horse we knew as the
Asulejo, but his eye was brighter and he neighed in the joy of his
heart as he trotted friskily along! He was the obvious leader of the
revolt. No sooner did he see me than he fell behind, trying to look as
though one of the younger animals had lured him from the path of duty,
but that pretence did not serve, and after driving him back into camp
we put _maneas_ on him, upon which he recognised with the philosophy
of age that he could not fight against the inevitable, and so retired
into the lee of a thorn-bush, where he lay down to dream, no doubt, of
the days when things were different and he had been a scampering
three-year-old on the banks of the River Negro.
[Illustration: THE ASULEJO]
However, to return to our journey, and our earliest attempt at
marching without a waggon. It was first and last one of the most
trying days that we experienced. To begin with, the eight fairly
well-behaved horses were cargoed up, and then the wild ones were taken
in hand. The first of these happened to be the Gateado. His load was
flour and tinned beef. He allowed himself to be saddled up with no
more than the usual accompaniment of blowing and snorting. He even
suffered his cargo to be slung and the noose to be slipped along the
_cinch_ until it was in place.
Every horse needs two men to put on his cargo. One ties the knot and
hauls while the other takes in the slack. The latter has to hold up
his side of the cargo with his shoulder, and to do this must get
pretty nearly under the animal.
In our case, although we jettisoned a portion of our
belongings--including, I am sorry to say, a number of birds which I
had spent my evenings in skinning, and which I truly grieved to leave
behind--some of the packs were of necessity rather unwieldy. This,
indeed, is almost always the case during the earlier stages of any
expedition.
The behaviour of the Gateado was similar to that of many of the
_cargueros_. He waited until his man was well under, and then he came
into action with a series of diabolically well-aimed, one-legged
kicks. Having after a little got rid of us by this means, he went on
to buck all his cargo off, and then stood with his saddle cork-screwed
round under his belly. Jones held on to the head-rope, or no doubt the
Gateado would have completed his performance by clearing off into the
low hills or hummocks which surrounded the place.
Most of the others were, in their separate ways, as bad as the
Gateado. Some bucked, some reared, some would not be approached, but
all agreed in one thing--all, when cargoed up and ready for the start,
solemnly lay down and rolled on their cargoes. If they got them loose,
the wretched animals rose again and bucked them within reach of their
heels, after which they extricated themselves by kicking.
That morning was, indeed, a study of shifting cargoes. They came off
all ways, bucked off, kicked off, rolled on. Some stuck out to port of
the horse and some to starboard, a few hung disconsolately beneath the
_carguero's_ body. Again and again we did our part, and again and
again the horses defeated us by their horrible tricks of lying down
and rolling. Meantime the sun had risen, and heat and flies were added
to the long tally of the day's disagreeable items. A very heavy wind
was also blowing, which made it exceedingly difficult to place the
saddle-cloths upon the horses' backs. I have often noticed that, when
saddling up a colt or wild horse, it is well to make use each day of
the same saddle-cloths, as he grows used to these, and does not fear
them, especially if you allow him to bite and smell them.
[Illustration]
At length, however, shortly after midday the horses began to get worn
out. The cargoed ones ceased to struggle and lay still, tongues out,
fat-barrelled, like a troop on a battle-field, humped with cargo and
grotesquely dead. In the fighting-line, I remember, remained only a
horse named Horqueta (the slit-eared), and the indefatigable Gateado.
Horqueta's cargo consisted of a pair of tin boxes, for, bucking apart,
he was a fairly steady pack-horse. He and the Gateado were the last to
be finished, the others having yielded after the long struggle of the
forenoon.
All would now have gone well had it not been for the fact that the
handles of one of the tin boxes upon Horqueta were loose. The moment
we let him go he began to buck and the unlucky handles to beat a
devil's tattoo upon the body of the tin box. He made off into the
troop of cargoed horses, and the noise he brought with him proved too
much for their nerves. They scrambled up to their feet and four of
them broke away in different directions. Five minutes later we
surveyed once more a scene of scattered cartridges, flour, oatmeal,
sacks of beans, clothes, skins bumped out with tinned provisions, and
I don't know what else. They lay in confusion among the grass and
bushes in the valley, and up and down the slopes of the conical mud
hills. The Germans were reduced to inarticulate oaths, and the
Welshmen looked out of heart.
But to camp upon a failure is the worst of business and of policy, and
so the men were laughed into a good humour, and we all went at it once
more, the ammunition and our other goods were collected and the
cargoes were fixed up yet again.
It was ten minutes past three o'clock by my watch when we rode slowly
up the cliff that lay between Waggon Camp and the River Chico of
Chubut. We reached the top without mishap, chiefly, I think, because
the horses were now fairly exhausted with their exertions. At the top
of the rise we stopped and looked back; our broken waggon lay dark and
low among the coarse yellow weeds, the afternoon sun, still warm, beat
upon the bald hills, and that was the last we saw of our unlucky camp.
The procession moved slowly on, and we did not rest until twilight, by
which time we had travelled between twelve and thirteen miles. Our
march now lay along the banks of the Chico. The going was soft, and
more bushes began to appear on the landscape. That night we celebrated
our first _carguero_ journey by serving out cocoa for all hands.
The night we struck the River Chico was a very cold one, the
temperature falling 12° below freezing-point. These figures, however,
give no idea of the cold, as one of the characteristics of Patagonia
is the prevalence of tremendous winds. And when these blow from the
direction of the Cordillera, they bring with them chilly memories of
the snows over which they have passed. Wind, of course, increased the
rigours of the cold, and I remember that during the night on which we
felt the cold most severely the temperature did not fall below 35°.
The next morning we got off about 10.30, having less trouble with the
_cargueros_. I went on in front to choose our way, which here passed
over very bad ground.
At the midday halt it was found that only part of a haunch of guanaco
had been brought on from the last camp. I therefore galloped on ahead
with a shot-gun and shot thirteen ducks, of which only six came to
hand, as several fell among the reeds in the marshes which fringe the
river. Of these six ducks, four were brown pintails (_Dafila
spinicauda_) and two were Chiloe widgeon (_Mareca sibilatrix_). In the
afternoon I exchanged the shot-gun for the rifle, as a few more
guanaco-skins would be very handy for various purposes and meat was
wanted. About four o'clock, when riding behind the troop, I saw a
guanaco among the hills to the east. I was fortunately mounted upon
the Cruzado, who had by this time learned to stand to shot and to
remain standing when his reins were dropped over his head. He was
infinitely the best shooting-horse in the troop, and I used always to
ride him when game was wanted, although, owing to his being a large
horse, his canter was not suited to riding behind the _tropilla_. He
had come to us with a very bad name for throwing himself back, which
is one of the nastiest tricks a horse can possess. But this he soon
gave up, and except that he always remained rather hard to catch in
the mornings, was what an advertiser would call "a thoroughly
confidential horse." I am glad to think that when I left Patagonia he
became the property of Burbury.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR'S TWO BEST HORSES, THE CRUZADO AND ALAZAN]
The Cruzado seemed to enter into the spirit of the chase, and in the
present instance went off at a fast canter towards the hills. The
guanaco had moved from his point of vantage upon the top of a conical
hill of mud, and had probably, according to the custom of these
animals, sought another eminence. I thought he had seen me, in which
case he would at once have made for the highest point within reach,
but, as I came into the throat of the gorge where there were some mud
hills, I saw him again upon the side of a large hummock one hundred
feet or so in height. I immediately tied up my horse.
The guanacos of the valley of the Chico were very wild owing to the
fact that the Tehuelche Indians hunt them there during the months of
October and November. This valley was once celebrated for the
abundance of its game, but of recent years the herds seem to have
moved westwards and northwards. This guanaco was the first we had seen
that day.
I crawled up the hill, sinking to my knees at every step into the dry
mud. When half-way up I saw the ears of the guanaco appear against the
sky-line. I lay down, and he remained still and utterly unconscious of
my presence for some minutes. He was watching my companions, who, with
the horses, were moving off into dimness down the valley. Presently he
ran forward one or two steps and gave out his high-pitched neighing
laugh in a sort of strange defiance at our retreating troop. He was a
very old buck with dark markings on his face. He was about fifty yards
away, and when I fired he reared and fell backwards. I threw out the
cartridge, and at the same instant seven guanacos, startled by the
report, dashed across the valley and galloped along parallel to me on
the other side of the _cañadon_ at about one hundred yards distance. I
fired at the second one because it looked fat, and brought it to the
ground. The guanacos now turned in great affright and raced past me
again, when I dropped two more. This brought them to a standstill, as
they had not yet made out where the shots were coming from, and no
doubt I might have been able to shoot the entire herd, but we had now
enough skins. When I rose the remaining four sprang down into the
valley and disappeared up the opposite _barranca_.
I now went to the top of the hill, where I had fired at the old buck,
and found that the bullet had broken his neck. He was, as I had
surmised, a very old animal, and bore upon him traces of an encounter
with a puma. The skin of his neck was immensely thick and his teeth
were worn down. One of the other guanacos, which had fallen upon the
far side of the valley, proved to be a year-old doe, so it was
unnecessary to take any of the meat of the buck. I now signalled, and
Burbury soon joined me to help in cutting up.
When we overtook the horses we found that the hounds, Tom and Bian had
killed a cavy (_Dolichotis patagonica_), so that we had a good stock
of meat. The cavy is excellent eating, resembling English hare. I was
told that Tom had not covered himself with glory, for, although he
proved himself very fast, and turned the hare, it was Bian that killed
it. Bian was a rough, yellow lurcher, who stood the rough ground and
hard experiences of our journey very much better than Tom, although
the latter was a well-bred hound with a pedigree to back his
pretensions. Bian belonged to young Jones.
During the day we observed enormous flocks of Chilian widgeon (_Mareca
sibilatrix_) as well as some grey teal (_Querquedula versicolor_).
On October 22, as we had expected, we arrived at Colohuapi, the
farthest settlement in the heart of Patagonia. Near by lie twin lakes
Colhué and Musters. About one o'clock, coming over a rise, we saw the
Lake. As the sun was shining it was very blue, and upon the far side
rose the hills. The mournful whistle of waterfowl in countless flocks
was to be heard. A breeze from the north-west was blowing across the
lake, and there was that peculiar wet smell in the wind which can only
be derived from a passage across wide waters.
This day the Gateado bucked off his cargo of tinned meats and was
unfortunate enough to give himself a deep wound in the pastern. Jones
tied it up with his handkerchief, and the horse was so lame that we
thought it would be necessary to leave him behind at Colohuapi. As it
turned out, however, being of a very strong constitution, he improved
rapidly, and was with us to the very end of our journeyings.
Our march on this occasion was upwards of twenty-seven miles, and at
the end of it I rode ahead to choose a place for a camp. Earlier in
the day Burbury, who was riding the Colorado, a half-broken colt that
had had only a few gallops, got into difficulties, and I relieved him
of a bag which he was carrying. I had tied this bag to my saddle, but
just before we camped it came loose, and, thinking I was not going to
have any other chance of shooting, I slung it over my rifle, which I
was carrying across my shoulder as usual in a sling. I had chosen a
valley to camp in and turned round to jog quietly back to meet the
troop, when with the tail of my eye I caught sight of an animal which
I thought was Tom, but it looked too large, and I turned my head to
see it more fully. There, fifteen yards behind my horse, staring at
me, switching its tail slowly from side to side, and standing full up,
was a fine male puma (_F. concolor_). I rolled off my horse, which,
fortunately, had neither seen nor winded the puma, and began to
unsling my rifle. In the middle of the operation, when I already had
the hindering bag upon the ground, the puma, which up to that moment
had continued to lash its tail and stare at me, turned round and loped
off at the cumbrous and uncouth canter habitual to these animals. At
one hundred and fifty yards it stopped for an instant, but was off
again at once. I attempted to mount my horse with the idea of
galloping down the puma, an easy thing to do, as these animals never
run far, and are readily blown, but the horse, which happened to be a
mule-footed _oscuro_, known as Mula, became quite unmanageable. I at
once coo-ed and was joined by young Humphrey Jones, who in eighteen
years' residence in Patagonia had never seen a puma, and as he had
strong sporting instincts, was extremely anxious to encounter one. We
followed the track of the lion--as the puma is locally called--but
after topping the hill it led along a bare slope and was lost in a
clump of high dry bush, where it was quite hopeless to find the
creature. We rode back into camp very disappointed.
Just as Mr. Selous remarks that hunters sometimes spend years in
Africa before they come upon their first lion, so many a man is as
long in Patagonia before he comes across his first puma. The puma is a
very furtive and cowardly animal, and though we saw so few during our
months of travel, I have no doubt that many a puma watched our troop
passing across the pampa from the safe cover of rocks and bushes.
Seeing or not seeing pumas is purely a matter of luck, and the tales
concerning pumas having attacked men, which abound in the country, are
generally fabrications. A puma with young will attack man if he
stumbles upon her and her family, and my friend Mr. Waag told me that
on one occasion a puma in the Cordillera had shown evident signs of
attack. In the majority of cases, even when wounded, the puma will
only snarl and spit, and the Indians, as well as the Gauchos, despatch
it with the _bolas_.
The puma is a terrible foe to the sheep-farmer, levying heavy toll
upon flocks, and often enjoys a long career of sheep-killing before
strychnine or the bullet puts an end to its existence.
The snow is directly responsible for the death of a great many pumas,
for when it is lying on the ground the animals can easily be tracked.
At this season the shepherds of the _estancias_ near the coast attempt
to clear the ground of their very unwelcome visitors, the weapon most
commonly used being the .450 revolver, and the shot is often taken at
a distance of less than ten paces. The puma is very easy to kill,
especially if the first shot is well placed. It is the first shock
which tells in the case of these animals.
Great sport could, no doubt, be had with the puma were he hunted with
a pack of dogs that would bay him and distract his attention. The
average hound of the country is, however, far too wise to pit himself
against such an animal, and will often even refuse to acknowledge the
scent.
That night the lake, as seen from the camp, was wonderfully beautiful.
The waters were leaden-grey bounded by faint blue hills, with soft
mists of an unearthly green clinging about them. The only sounds to be
heard were the wash of the ripple on the shore and plashing of
wildfowl.
On October 23 we made as early a start as possible, and pursued our
way over very level pampa, which had not yet been hardened by the sun
of spring. We put up an ostrich (_Rhea darwini_) from _his_ nest, and
found three eggs. Presently there appeared in the centre of the pampa,
ahead of us, three little huts of earth and three black cattle. Save
for one gorge through which the River Senguerr flows, and through
which we afterwards took our way, a perfect circle of hills of greatly
varying heights surrounded the small settlement. The huts belonged to
a Welshman named William Jones, who, with his wife and six children,
had trekked out here some six or eight months previously.
One of the three huts, which was untenanted, Mr. Jones put at our
disposal, and after taking off the cargoes, Burbury and Scrivenor
accompanied me across to William Jones' home. Mrs. Jones received us
with hospitality and treated us to _maté_ with milk, tea and scones,
and we got a sight of ourselves in the looking-glass. The wind of the
pampas had removed all the skin from our faces, and we were a good
deal unlike the individuals who had started from Trelew some four or
five weeks before.
[Illustration: SETTLEMENT OF COLOHUAPI]
That night the men slept inside the hut, but it was too warm for my
sleeping-bag, so I took up my bed and went out, passing the night on
the lee side of the hut. Perhaps what delighted us most was the fact
that in the shelter of the hut we were able to smoke our pipes in
peace, safe from the buffeting of the wind.
At dawn Mrs. Jones kindly sent her children over with a pail of milk.
It would be impossible to imagine any more healthy specimens of the
Welsh race than these sun-kissed, clear-eyed youngsters. Ruddy and
brown and strong, the air of the wilderness had need of no better
proof of its splendid health-giving qualities. I gave the children
chocolate from our store, a luxury to which they were not accustomed,
and which they enjoyed immensely.
William Jones had brought his wife and family to Colohuapi in a
waggon, following the banks of the River Chico from Trelew. His
journey had, however, been made late in the year, when the marshes
were dry, and his waggon had been more suited to the hardships of the
way than was ours.
Two other Welshmen with their wives lived higher up the valley, and
the full strength of the colony was made up by a Swede named Oscar,
who acted as _comisario_, and an Argentine who had settled on the
other side of the river. To the last-named gentleman Burbury paid a
visit on the following day.
Now set in another era of preparation. We purchased sheepskins and
laid in a stock of mutton, and on the 25th once more made a start.
Before taking leave of Colohuapi I should like to record my
appreciation of the great kindness which the settlers there extended
to us especially Mr. and Mrs. William Jones, the latter of whom was
thoughtful enough to bake us a large loaf to speed us on our way. On
the eve of our departure we gave a small dinner, at which the _menu_
was as follows: Mutton _puchero_, made with desiccated potatoes and
cabbage; stewed apple-rings and milk; lime-juice tablets; chocolate
food; and two tins of sardines. I was very sorry not to be able to add
a bowl of punch to the feast, but the fact was I had with me but three
bottles of brandy, and those for purely medicinal purposes.
The country round about Colohuapi is very suited for cattle-breeding,
but, of course, the chief difficulty encountered by the colonists are
those connected with transporting their produce to the market, as the
district is not yet in any way opened up. But I hope and believe that
a prosperous future lies before the young settlement, and much of the
good to come should certainly fall to the lot of the Welshmen William
and Walter Jones, whose pioneer efforts deserve great reward. At
present it is a hard life that the colonists are obliged to lead,
divided as they are by more than a couple of hundred miles from their
nearest white neighbours. One could not help being struck by the
solitary aspect of the two or three small huts, set as they are at
present on the edge of the hill-encircled empty plain.
Just as we were off from Colohuapi, the _comisario_ rode up and
proceeded to make the necessary examination of our horses. In this
connection very strict laws obtain throughout the northern provinces
of the Argentine Republic. In a country where horse-breeding is
carried on upon so extensive a scale, and where, besides, the animals
are allowed to wander freely upon the wide spaces of the pampas, a
strong check must be placed upon any infringement of the law of
property. A strict system of registration and surveillance as to
brands upon horses must be kept in force, and is, in fact, one of the
first steps towards security.
The brand, which I had registered in Trelew, and which was invented by
Burbury, represented the rising sun. It was an excellent brand, as it
had not much "fire" about it, and was very different to any other mark
we came across. Another point to be considered in choosing it was that
it would be a difficult one to fake. Our branding took place at Bahia
Camerones, Mr. Greenshields being good enough to allow us to use his
corral for the purpose. Our half-wild horses did not permit us to
operate upon them without a struggle. A few days after the operation
the burns caused by the iron had quite healed.
[Illustration: OUR BRAND]
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Except in very rare cases the _boleadores_ should not be used to
catch horses. For a kicking animal they are, however, a good
corrective.
CHAPTER V
THE RIVER VALLEYS
Arbitrary distribution of animals in Patagonia -- Trouble
with Gauchos -- Indian guide -- Germans turned back --
_Cañadon_ of River Senguerr -- Bad weather -- Old Zaino
again causes damage -- Loss of clothes, ammunition, &c.,
in the river -- Shooting upland geese -- River Mayo --
Hailstorm -- A day's sport in Patagonia -- Shooting a wild
cow -- Was it a wild cow? -- Musters' account of wild
cattle -- First meeting with Tehuelche Indians.
In consequence of the visit of the _comisario_ we were somewhat late
in starting from Colohuapi, but nevertheless made a good march of
about fifteen miles, and camped in the valley, after driving the two
horses past a bend of the river that would prevent them from
attempting to break back towards their pasture at Colohuapi. The day
was very warm indeed and the night rather cold, the thermometer at
midday and at night being respectively 74° F. and 37° F.
We were now upon the banks of the River Senguerr, the Senguel of
Captain Musters.
The extraordinary tameness of the upland geese in the neighbourhood of
Colohuapi was very remarkable; they allowed one to approach within
eighty yards before bestirring themselves. After the first day's march
beyond Colohuapi we never saw again any specimen of the Patagonian
cavy (_Dolichotis patagonica_), although round the shores of the lakes
Musters and Colhué these animals abound. It is strange that the
habitat of the cavy should be so sharply defined, considering that
there appears to be no apparent reason, such as alteration of the
nature of the ground or vegetation, to account for the fact. The
armadillo (_Dasypus minutus_), which is found in numbers on the north
bank of the River Santa Cruz, is entirely absent from the south bank,
nor, to my knowledge, has a single specimen ever been secured there.
This instance of the distribution of the armadillo agrees with other
facts of the same kind which are common to Patagonia. The rivers
running from west to east across the continent mark the limit of the
distribution of some of the mammals. Thus I am assured the jaguar
(_Felis onca_) is not to-day found south of the River Negro. And the
puma does not exist in Tierra del Fuego, the dividing water in this
latter instance being the Straits of Magellan. The guanaco, however,
is distributed throughout the whole of Patagonia and also in Tierra
del Fuego. I met with this animal deep inside the Cordillera, and
indeed once, with consecutive shots, I killed a huemul and a guanaco.
About this time it became apparent that neither Fritz nor Hollesen,
the German Gauchos, were very much in love with the hard work and
hardships which they conceived lay before them. It was a favourite
trick of theirs to fall out of the troop on the plea of fixing a
cargo, and then, as soon as we were lost to sight, to sit down and
smoke their pipes; in fact, they had determined to take things easy.
On the evening of our leaving Colohuapi Hollesen asked me for some
cartridges for his revolver, saying that when working under the
Argentine Boundary Commission he had had a quarrel with an Indian
concerning the Indian's wife, and that he feared meeting him, for the
man had sworn to be revenged.
During the night the dogs ate about ten kilos of mutton which we had
brought with us from Colohuapi, although it was wrapped up in a tent,
so the next morning we were forced to breakfast upon an old gander,
that made a very tough and tasteless _puchero_. Our next march was
about six leagues, and that evening an Indian rode into our camp and
offered to guide us across the pampa to Lake Buenos Aires. He was a
Tehuelche, and he told us that some of his tribe were encamped in the
valley of the River Mayo at its junction with the River Chalia. All
the following day, leaving the river and guided by the Indian, we rode
across bare stony pampa devoid of game, and in the evening, after
passing three lagoons, we made our camp round a spring of water. As,
owing to the depredations of the dogs, we had no fresh food, I took
the gun and attempted to stalk a couple of upland geese.
[Illustration: THE GERMANS]
As I was returning unsuccessful, Burbury met me and told me that the
Germans had again been giving him trouble. I was prepared for the
news, as I had noticed they were inclined to shirk work of late,
constantly lingering behind and in every way making themselves
objectionable. On an expedition where there is naturally plenty of
work for every one, it is useless to have men who growl at doing their
fair proportion of it. They were also trying to influence the other
Gauchos, for this trick of deserting at a critical time, when their
services cannot be replaced, is a very old one with _peones_, who on
such occasions can sometimes force their employers into giving them
disproportionately high wages. I was, of course, resolved not to yield
to their demands but to push forward, even if they left us. I
consulted with Burbury, who agreed that we could manage without their
help, though it would leave us awkwardly short-handed.
On arriving at the camp I asked the Germans the reason of their late
behaviour, but they could give me no satisfactory answer, but burst
into a tirade about an inoffensive companion, Barckhausen, which was
obviously only an excuse to cover their real designs. I told them they
must in future behave properly or else leave my camp next morning.
After a certain amount of talk and bluster Fritz said that not only
Hollesen and he but the Welsh _peones_ would in that case turn back.
During the course of the evening I spoke to Jones, who informed me
that Fritz had persuaded him to desert, but on my pointing out that
this would not be a very wise proceeding, he at once threw in his lot
with us.
In the morning, finding I was of the same mind, the Germans again
informed me of their wish to turn back. I therefore gave them food to
last them upon their journey to civilisation, as well as the worst
buck-jumper of the troop, and told them to leave the camp as soon as
possible. Fritz, after some further talk and after remarking to
Hollesen in German that they had better have stayed after all, climbed
on to the horse and rode away.
The Germans at the outset had been admirable workers, apart from their
cunning, which tinged most of their conduct. Yet perhaps, if they had
gone on with us, we might have paid for Hollesen's misdoings with the
Indians, by getting into trouble with the tribe who had saved his life
and whom he had so scurvily requited. As it happened, a few days later
we came upon the very tribe with whom he had had to do.
I will now take some extracts from my diary:
"_October 28._--The Germans left us this morning. I think we shall be
all the better without them. Immediately on their departure I
determined to march to the _cañadon_ or valley of the River Senguerr,
giving up the route suggested by the Indian, as it was likely that the
horses would stray upon the pampa. It was necessary to decrease the
weight of some of our cargo, which we at once set about doing. The
reason for this was that, having so few men, each pair of us would
have to look after six _cargueros_, or pack-horses, and we were
consequently obliged to lessen their number.
"While we were getting ready a thin rain and a yelling wind came down
the _cañadon_ as we started to catch the horses. The salt marsh over
which the Germans had gone lay behind us, and ahead were shallow
lagoons around which the tussocks whistled in the wind. But I think we
none of us noticed the inclemency of the weather, we were soaked to
the skin as we worked, and in an hour and a half--a record as to time
in cargoing up even with the aid of the men who had gone--we had
loaded the last _carguero_ of the twelve, and with extra ropes hanging
to the saddles, a brandy bottle protruding from each of the pockets of
Barckhausen and with Jones perched high and stirrupless upon a sack of
beans, we set off."
Providentially, not a single cargo shifted, although we covered
something like fourteen miles. I should have mentioned that one of the
reasons which weighed with me in again seeking the _cañadon_ of the
River Senguerr was the fact that four of the horses had strayed in the
night. It was our intention to camp as soon as we reached a suitable
place in the valley and to scour the country for the lost horses.
This, however, turned out not to be necessary, as we came right upon
the truants grazing in the mouth of a small rift in the cliff of the
_cañadon_. One of them cantered out with a neigh to meet the troop
upon the hillside.
It rained so heavily in the night that we put up the tent and were
glad of its warm shelter. Morning came with pearl-grey mists in the
valley. We worked like slaves, and our hands became very sore with the
new cargo-ropes.
[Illustration: RIVER SENGUERR, WHERE DISASTER OVERTOOK US]
The next day, had I but known it, marked the last of our misfortunes,
for after that we enjoyed as good luck as we had hitherto experienced
the reverse.
We spent most of the morning in slowly marching a couple of leagues,
and then Scrivenor, who was leading, came back to say that our way was
barred by a sheer cliff, close under which the river ran. Burbury,
however, was of the opinion that it would be easier to proceed than to
attempt to scale the tall _barranca_, which was our only alternative
choice. We straggled across the half-dry marshy grass that fringed the
river-bed, which here winds greatly.
Presently we climbed on to a steep slope on the cliffs, where directly
below us the river ran with a current of about three knots. The
passage along this slope was very difficult, and we were driving the
horses with infinite care. The face of the cliff was scarred with the
traces of a landslip. One of the horses, the Old Zaino, so called not
because of any weight of years, but on account of the gravity of his
demeanour, climbed up and up, in spite of all our efforts, among the
shifting earth and loose stones until he was some hundred feet above
the main body of the troop. He was a tall, ewe-necked animal, and
always bore an exasperating expression of insulted dignity. He was
carrying a cargo of flour.
When he had, in his own opinion, managed to get sufficiently ahead of
his companions, he stopped dead and looked down upon us with a baleful
eye as we toiled beneath him. Then suddenly, but methodically, he
began to descend towards us in a succession of devastating bucks. No
cargo, tied with ropes, could withstand such treatment. The _cinch_
gave way, and he and his pack arrived simultaneously in the middle of
the troop.
[Illustration: THE OLD ZAINO]
He cannoned against a black horse carrying ammunition and oatmeal, and
it began to slide down the cliff towards the river on its haunches.
The remainder of the horses stampeded, some fell, some got into
impossible positions.... For several minutes the big black horse hung
within measurable distance of violent death upon the rocks below, but
Barckhausen made a great effort to save him, and succeeded, though the
cargo was kicked off in a most perilous place. Only a guanaco track
led along the steep hillside, and over the edge of the slope our
belongings dropped into the river a hundred feet below. Each lifted a
small cloud of spray as it fell and floated serenely away on the
current or sank from sight. The water was dotted with the various
packages. All Burbury's clothes, some of mine, flour, oatmeal, a case
of corned beef, six hundred rounds of ammunition, and the
concertina--these were among our losses.
A salvage-party was at once despatched to attempt the rescue of such
of our goods as were still swimming, while the rest of us collected
the horses and returned with a sufficiency of ropes to enable us to
get down the cliff, for upon the ragged edge left by the landslip and
overhanging the river some of our things had lodged. We felt that we
were for the time being out of luck. We had not long lost the waggon,
and now followed the losing of important stores and the yet more
important ammunition. We knotted together eight of the cargo-ropes,
and while Scrivenor and I were doing this, Barckhausen retrieved one
of the boxes of ammunition, and told us that there were a couple more
farther down, and out of reach, he feared, which had stuck in the soft
earth of the landslip. However, with the aid of the rope I managed to
bring both up to safe ground.
[Illustration: THE GUANACO (AN INTIMATE OF THE OLD ZAINO'S)]
"During this time we could see Burbury and Jones far away in the
valley, where the river narrowed and the current swinging near the
bank offered a hopeful chance of catching the floating articles. They
succeeded in dragging ashore most of the packages, but Burbury's
clothes, which were in a brown waterproof bag, sank, the bag, I fancy,
having filled with water. Our total losses thus amounted to 200
12-bore cartridges, a tin of Mauser ammunition, a 25-kilo bag of
oatmeal, and the clothes. On the whole we could not help thinking
things might have been very much worse.
"The horses had meantime come to a standstill in a patch of high grass
farther along beneath the _barranca_, and there we rounded them up and
re-cargoed.
"When this was done it was found that we had another place, almost as
difficult as that upon which we had come to grief, to surmount. This
time, however, Burbury led a horse in front, and the others followed
meekly in his track. We had wasted several hours in negotiating the
first _barranca_, and it was soon time to camp. As we had no meat, I
went to see if I could not kill some geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_),
which I had observed upon a neck of land, that stretched out into the
river. There were five geese, and I was lucky enough to kill two,
both females, which are very much more tender than the males. On one
side of the camp was a chain of small lagoons, evidently formed by the
overflow of the river, and in one of these I saw a flock of brown
pintails. These were easily stalked behind the rushes, and the
discharge of two barrels of the 12-bore left five upon the water. At
dark a storm of rain blew up.
[Illustration: THE ALAZAN COLT (NEARLY KILLED ON THE SENGUERR)]
"_October 30._--This cargoing work is very wearisome, and has got upon
our nerves. Even in one's sleep one sees the reeling, writhing mass of
kicking and struggling _cargueros_ on the white and ragged-sided
_barranca_.[6] Got off at 10.30 and reached the River Mayo, a very
small stream here, flowing through a wide valley lined by bare steep
cliffs 200 feet or so in height. We are all becoming quite expert with
the cargoes; Burbury and Barckhausen, and Jones and I work in pairs.
The newness has now worn off the ropes, and hauling on them does not
any longer cut our hands. Still an occasional cargo shifts, and the
horse, wildly refusing to be caught, gallops away kicking at his
cargo. Thus did the Alazan to-day, scattering Mauser ammunition among
the bushes, and kicking the spout from our last kettle, so that we can
only fill it half full.
"There is comparatively little game in this bit of country, few
guanaco, and those very wild because of the Indians, whose beat we are
now approaching. When there is rain, which fortunately is not often,
we have to carry our change of clothing upon our saddles to dry them.
To-day Jones was very much loaded up with his extra breeches and top
boots, that were wet, a gun-cover, fifty rounds of ammunition dropped
by the Alazan, two ducks, a telescope, and a water-bottle!
"_October 31._--Soon after we started a big cloud blew out of the
south and brought with it a heavy hailstorm, which whistled before a
driving wind. The horses would not face it, but huddled together in
the centre of the valley. We encamped early as we needed meat. Jones
and I left the camp here among the sand-dunes in the valley and went
a-hunting. We rode up a _cañadon_, in the centre of which our horses
foundered in some very bad ground. Getting out of this we struck a
stretch of desolate pampa, across which we cut towards the big
_cañadon_ of the Mayo in order to explore the route which we must
follow upon the morrow. To my surprise we presently came to a clear
stream, flowing through another wide _cañadon_, which joined the Mayo
from a south-westerly direction. Can this be the River Genguel? The
Indian guide told us that it would take us a month to get from here to
Lake Buenos Aires. If it is the Genguel, however, we should arrive at
the lake in ten marches--a very different matter. It would be as well
to halt to-morrow for the day, so that an observation may be taken to
determine this point, and also to enable us to go hunting, as we have
but one duck in the camp, and, since our losses at the Senguerr
_barranca_, it is more than ever necessary to save our stock of tinned
provisions.
"To-day the Old Zaino, this time fortunately not carrying a cargo,
again attempted to repeat his trick of the Senguerr _barranca_, but
was circumvented by Burbury and Barckhausen.
"_November 1._--To-day Scrivenor shot the sun 70° 56´ W. long, and 45°
39´ S. lat. So the river we saw yesterday is the Genguel, which is
excellent. Jones and I went out to shoot for the pot. As there were no
guanaco in the neighbourhood, he took the Paradox and I my 12-bore,
and we confined ourselves to following some flocks of upland geese
which we had observed in the valley. I will describe the day's sport
at length, as it was very typical of Patagonian wild-fowl shooting in
a fairly good district.
"We rode our horses, of course, I taking the Cruzado and Jones
'J.V.E.' a small brown animal, so called because he bears that brand
upon his flank. The first geese we came upon were a party of five
standing upon an island in the Mayo. As it was impossible to stalk
these birds we tried driving, and I sent Humphrey Jones, who, by the
way, was a very keen sportsman, to attempt to drive them over me,
where I had taken up my quarters in some bushes upstream above them on
the bank. Jones meantime made a large circle and galloped up towards
them. When he was within about 200 yards they rose, and honking
indignantly made straight up in my direction, flying, however, a
little too wide. They went down again about a quarter of a mile away,
and we repeated our tactics, I remaining where I was. I could not help
thinking how much time was saved by Jones being on horseback. Had he
been on foot it would have taken him a long time in that bare valley
to fetch a circle big enough. As it was, in five minutes the birds
were again on the wing, and this time they gave me a chance and I
brought down two; one, however, falling on the other side of the
river, had to be abandoned."
Any one who travels through Patagonia cannot fail to be struck by the
enormous quantities of upland geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_) which
abound in the vicinity of the rivers and lagoons. At this time a great
many of the birds are paired, but at a latter date in the valley of
the Coyly we once made a camp round which the country in all
directions was covered by thousands of these geese. After our shot
Jones rejoined me and we proceeded to the edge of a small lagoon,
where he told me he had seen some ducks. On approaching it I examined
the birds through my telescope and discovered them to be brown
pintails (_Dafila spinicauda_). I held the horses while Jones enjoyed
the stalk, which ended in his killing two of the birds, to retrieve
which it was necessary to wade into pretty deep water.
We now rode towards the valley of the Genguel, and there flushed
innumerable snipe, at which we did not shoot, as we could not afford
to waste ammunition on so small a bird. We next descried a flock of
nineteen geese, which were peculiarly wideawake and would not allow us
to approach for a long time, and presently we deserted their pursuit
in favour of that of a single old gander that was standing upon the
shingle beside the river. I got up quite close to this bird and had a
rising shot at him as he flew across the stream. I killed him quite
dead, but it seemed impossible to retrieve him, and we were rather
disconsolately watching his body drift away when it struck us that
Jones, who was very clever with the lasso, might manage to recover it
at a point where the current brought it within reach of our side. We
therefore galloped parallel to the bird along the bank, and after one
or two ineffectual efforts, Jones succeeded in getting the lasso round
him, and so dragged him in.
[Illustration: WILDGOOSE CAMP]
"We next had lunch which consisted of _maté_. As we sat waiting for
the kettle to boil, several blue-winged teal (_Querquedula
cyanoptera_) passed over us and went down in a small marsh towards the
Genguel. After these Jones had another stalk, and killed two. As he
was returning a couple of geese flew over at about thirty-five yards
distance, and he dropped the female quite dead. It is extraordinary
what an amount of shot these geese will in a general way carry off
with them. For all my shooting in Patagonia I used No. 4 shot and 26
gr. of ballistite. The gun which I used most was a 12-bore moderately
choked in both barrels, and this I found answered every purpose of
wild-fowl shooting in Patagonia excellently.
[Illustration: BAD STALKING (CALIFATE-BUSH ON PAMPA)]
"At reasonable ranges a number of black-necked swans (_Cygnus
nigricollis_) fell to this weapon.
"After picking up the goose, we again turned our attention to the
nineteen that I have mentioned earlier. They then went on a good
distance downstream, and here, under cover of the rushes, we stalked
up within twenty yards of them, and shot three as they rose. One of
the flock swung back, and both of us fired at him, bringing him down.
Thinking we had enough geese, we decided to follow the ducks, which we
did in a rather desultory manner. We bagged two more, both pintails,
before we returned to camp in the evening, having had a very pleasant
day's sport."
Although I never attempted to make a big bag upon any day during the
time I spent in Patagonia, yet, no doubt, an enormous quantity of
geese could be shot in a single day. Quite close to the settlements a
couple of hundred might be secured by two guns in a day, and during
the migration a far greater number.
The whole of the valley of the River Chico is excellent for
wild-fowling, and I expected the numbers of birds to increase as we
drew nearer to Lake Buenos Aires. And certainly in the _cañadon_ of
the River Deseado I was not disappointed, but of that I will write in
its due place.
On November 2 we resumed our march, still following the valley of the
Mayo, past the scenes of our sport of the previous day. A little after
midday Jones saw a whitish object among some bushes at the edge of the
river and asked my leave to go and see what it was. Presently he came
riding back to say it was a wild cow and that he had observed her
through the glasses. She was nearly a mile distant, and, taking my
rifle, I rode off with Jones and we stalked her to about 200 yards. We
again examined her carefully through the telescope, and seeing that
she was five or six years old and unbranded, the fact of her belonging
to a wild herd rather than being a truant escaped from the settlements
two hundred miles away appeared to be certain. It was with
considerable keenness that we crawled up nearer, as wild cattle afford
the best sport of all Patagonian animals.
These wild cattle have some of them been wild for many generations,
their remote ancestors probably being the herds which the Spaniards
originally possessed in the Valdez Peninsula on the east coast during
the earlier occupation of Patagonia. Since then from time to time
numbers of cattle escape from the coast-farms and run wild, and,
joining the older free herds, breed wild. Such herds are still to be
found in considerable numbers among the foot-hills of the Cordillera.
Musters in his book gives an account of meeting with a wild bull. "We
had expected before reaching this point to have found cattle in
considerable numbers, but the warmth of the day had probably driven
them into the thickets to seek shelter..... Presently ... after riding
about a mile, I espied two bulls. Two men were sent round to endeavour
to drive the animals to a clearing where it would be possible to use
the lassoo.... At the end of five minutes ... a yell from the other
side put us anxiously on the alert, and we had the gratification to
see one of the animals coming straight towards our cover. Alas! just
as we were preparing to dash out, he turned on the edge of the plain,
and after charging furiously at his pursuer dashed into a thicket,
where he stood at bay. We immediately closed round him, and
dismounting, I advanced on foot to try and bring him down with a
revolver. Just as I got within half a dozen paces of him, and behind a
bush was quietly taking aim at his shoulder, the Indians, eager for
beef, and safe on their horses at a considerable distance off,
shouted, 'Nearer, nearer!' I accordingly slipped from my cover, but
had hardly moved a pace forward when my spur caught in a root, and at
the same moment _el Toro_ charged. Entangled with the root, I could
not jump on one side as he came on; so, when within a yard I fired a
shot in his face, hoping to turn him, and wheeled my body at the same
instant to prevent his horns from catching me, as the sailors say,
'broadside on.' The shot did not stop him, so I was knocked down, and,
galloping over me, he passed on with my handkerchief, which fell from
my head, triumphantly borne on his horns, and stopped a few yards off
under another bush. Having picked myself up and found my legs and arms
all right, I gave him another shot, which, as my hand was rather
unsteady, only took effect in the flank. My cartridges being
exhausted, I returned to my horse and found that, besides being
considerably shaken, two of my ribs had been broken by the encounter.
"The Indians closed round me, and evinced great anxiety to know
whether I was much hurt. One, more courageous than the rest, despite
the warning of the cacique, swore he would try and lasso the brute,
and, accordingly, approached the infuriated animal, who for a moment
or two showed no signs of stirring; just, however, as the Indian was
about to throw his lasso, it caught in a branch, and before he could
extricate it the bull was upon him. We saw the horse give two or three
vicious kicks as the bull gored him. At length he was lifted clean up,
the fore-legs alone remaining on the ground, and overthrown, the rider
alighting on his head in a bush. We closed up and attracted the
bull in another direction, then went to look for the corpse of our
comrade, who, however, to our surprise, issued safe from the bush,
where he had lain quiet and unhurt, though the horse was killed. This
little incident cast a gloom over our day's pleasure, and lost us our
Christmas dinner, as Orkeke ordered a retreat to the spot where we had
left our mantles, although we tried to persuade him to attack the
beast again, or, at any rate, remain and eat some of the dead horse,
and try our luck next day, but he was inflexible.... On our way across
the plain previously described, wild cattle were seen, and one chased;
but he, although balled by Orkeke, contrived to slip the _bolas_, and
escaping to cover, stood to bay, where he was left master of the
field."
[Illustration: A DAUGHTER OF THE TOLDOS]
In the present instance, however, nothing at all exciting was in store
for us. My first bullet struck the cow behind the shoulder a little
high, she went down upon her knees, and a second shot brought her to
the ground. On our approaching she staggered to her feet, whereupon
Jones gave her a shot in the brain. We then set about grallocking and
skinning our quarry, and were delighted to find that she carried a
good deal of fat. We were at the time running very short of this
essential article of diet, for, as has been said, the guanacos supply
none at this season of the year, when they are still in poor condition
after the hardships of the winter.
When we had finished cutting up the meat, we packed it as well as we
could upon our saddles and rode away. The amount of meat with which we
had laden our saddles made them extremely uncomfortable; this was very
much so in my own case, as I was riding a little black horse whose
temper was not of the sweetest, and which had been but seldom ridden
since our start, and was consequently very fresh and skittish. We had
spent a long time over our task of cutting up the cow, and the troop
had gone far ahead. After riding about an hour we saw a white bull
upon the hillside above us, but on using the telescope perceived it
carried a brand upon its flank. We therefore left it in peace.
A little later, as we were riding under the western _barranca_ of the
_cañadon_ of the River Mayo, we came upon some fairly fresh tracks of
sheep. This fact, taken in conjunction with the appearance of the
white bull, made me begin to wonder whether it was possible that the
cow I had shot might not prove to be a tame one. We pushed on more
rapidly, the tracks growing sharper and more distinct. Presently the
tracks began to run into beaten lines, and such always mean in
Patagonia that man is not far off. As we rode we discussed the chances
as to who the owners of the sheep would turn out to be, and this we
found sufficiently exciting, as we had beheld no strange face for many
a day.
Very soon, as we rode round a curve of the cliff, we came in sight of
five armadillo-shaped tents lying snugly in the valley. We had not
expected to come upon the Indians, who, so our guide had told us, were
in the valley of the River Mayo, until some time later, but this was
undoubtedly the encampment to which he had alluded. A number of sheep
and of horses, together with a small herd of cattle, proved them to be
an unusually rich tribe.
The remainder of our party, on sighting the huts of the Tehuelches,
had halted and were waiting for my arrival. We now rode together in
the direction of the tents, and, while we were yet afar off, the
hounds about the squat tents broke into a chorus of barking. As we
drew nearer we could see that the tall figures, wrapped in
guanaco-skins, were standing in the openings of the _toldos_, on the
look-out for the arrival whose presence had been heralded by the dogs.
The sun was setting by this time over the high cliffs of the
_cañadon_, and the _toldos_ threw lengthened shadows upon the ground.
When we came within a short distance, the Indians stepped forward,
finely developed men, of a swarthy brown, with high cheek-bones, their
coarse black hair falling round their faces, and tied about the brows
with a red band. The tents seemed to be full to overflowing of old
women and lean hounds, all huddled together upon the ground, and a
crowd of curious faces peeped forth. The _toldos_ were made of
guanaco-skins, sewn loosely at their edges, and supported squarely on
awkward-looking props or posts, forked at the top to admit the
ridge-poles. The skins were fastened to the earth outside with wooden
pegs. These dwellings appeared to be anything but weather-proof, for
at the seams and lower edges were gaping slits, through which the sky
or the ground was visible. As to the shape of the _toldos_, if you can
imagine a very squat, deep-draught boat, cut off at rather beyond the
half of her length, and turned upside down, you will have some idea of
their appearance. On the roof, and about the wooden props, pieces of
guanaco-meat had been hung out to dry in the sun. Within, as I have
said, upon the skins which strewed the floor the dogs and grandmothers
of the tribe were mingled.
[Illustration: WATI! WATI! (TEHUELCHE EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE)]
It was our first experience of a Tehuelche encampment, and perhaps the
most remarkable feature of it was the presence, in one form or
another, of the guanaco. Some of his flesh was cooking at a fire
outside the tents, the _toldos_ themselves were composed of his pelts,
the ponchos which some of the women were weaving were made from his
wool, the boots were formed of his neck-skin, some of the horse-gear
of his hide, the men's _capas_ of his skin, while dogs, men, and women
alike were fattened upon the food he provided. As I stood there,
examining all these things, my mind kept running upon the cow which I
had killed, and which I was now more than half afraid might have
belonged to the Indians. If such proved to be the case, I knew that
they would resent it very bitterly, and even perhaps attempt to make
some sort of reprisals upon our horses. The idea of saying nothing
about it, were my surmise as to the chance of its having been their
property correct, struck me as being the least troublesome course to
pursue; but nothing is more abhorrent than dealing in this way with
aboriginal tribes. Personally, I should look upon picking the pocket
of a civilised person as, in comparison, almost a meritorious action.
I may as well say at once that I told them of the matter of the cow
through the _vaqueano_ or guide whom I hired from their tents, and
offered to pay for it if it happened to be their property. The
_vaqueano_, however, said that no cow of that colour belonged to their
herd, and, taking into consideration that she was six years old and
unmarked, I made my mind easy on this point.
I shall now break off from the thread of my narrative and give a
description of the Tehuelches, detailing the facts which I gathered
about them during my residence in Patagonia. I will only preface it by
saying that few peoples are more interesting to study than the
Tehuelches, of whom various travellers have given such widely
differing accounts.
FOOTNOTE:
[6] Any traveller, settler or cattleman who is acquainted with the
vagaries of _cargueros_ will understand our position. Some of the
horses which we used as _cargueros_ had never before had a saddle upon
their backs.
[Illustration: INDIAN _TOLDO_]
CHAPTER VI
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES
Indian method of curing measles -- Driving out the devil
-- Magellan -- _Patagon_ -- Long boots -- Reports of
travellers -- One of the finest races in the world --
Nomadic -- Hunters -- Decreasing in numbers --
Introduction of horses -- _Bolas_ -- No history -- Keen
bargainers but not progressive -- Features -- Good teeth
-- Women -- Morality -- Young and old women -- Half-bloods
-- _Paisanos_ -- Reserved in character -- Habits --
Infants' heads bandaged -- Dance -- Wives bought -- Price
of a wife -- Marriage ceremony -- White man in _toldos_ --
Bad influence -- Connections of white men and Tehuelche
women -- Dress and adornment of women -- Work -- Lazy race
-- High wages -- Ceremonies and customs -- Religion --
Gualicho -- Fear of Cordillera -- Fat hunger -- Tehuelche
lives on horseback -- Esquimaux and Tehuelche -- Primitive
peoples and their habits -- Food -- Tobacco -- Pipes --
Language -- Tribal government -- Physical strength --
Decreasing numbers -- Men of silence and men of uproar --
Courtesy of a Tehuelche.
Snow lay in the hollows so deep that only the lean crests of the
higher bushes could thrust themselves through its surface. The wind,
which had driven the snowstorm of the morning away to the east, swept
drearily down out of an evening sky where neither sun nor sunset hues
were to be seen, nothing but a spread of cold and misty grey, growing
slowly overshadowed by the looming promise of more snow.
In the middle of the level white pampa two figures upon galloping
horses were visible. As we came nearer we saw that one was that of a
man clothed in a _chiripa_ and a _capa_ in which brown was the
predominating colour. He was mounted on a heavy-necked powerful
_cebruno_ horse, his stirrups were of silver, and his gear of raw-hide
seemed smart and good. As he rode he yelled with all his strength,
producing a series of the most horrible and piercing shrieks.
But strange as was this wild figure, his companion, victim or quarry,
was stranger and more striking still. For on an ancient _zaino_ sat
perched a little brown maiden, whose aspect was forlorn and pathetic
to the last degree. She rode absolutely naked in the teeth of the
bitter cold, her breast, face and limbs blotched and smeared with the
rash of some eruptive disease, and her heavy-lidded eyes, strained and
open, staring ahead across the leagues of empty snow-patched plain.
Presently the man redoubled his howls, and bearing down upon the
_zaino_ flogged and frightened it into yet greater speed. The whole
scene might have been mistaken for some ancient barbaric and revolting
form of punishment; whereas, in real truth, it was an anxious Indian
father trying, according to his lights, to cure his daughter of the
measles!
It appeared that the girl had taken the disease in an extremely acute
form, and Indian belief and reasoning run something on these lines:
First fact--The child was possessed by a devil of great power and
ferocity, who set up such a trouble inside her body that it came forth
through her skin in blotches and spots.
Second fact--A devil is known to dislike noise and cold. All devils
do. Hence the ride of the unlucky patient without a shred to protect
her from the strong west wind snow-fed with bitter cold, and the
almost incredible uproar made by the old gentleman upon the dark brown
horse.
If one concedes the premises, it must be admitted there was method in
his madness.
[Illustration: A NEW CURE FOR THE MEASLES]
The above account was given me by Mr. Ernest Cattle, an accurate
observer, whose knowledge of the wild districts of Patagonia is
unique.
Such is the Tehuelche Indian of Patagonia to-day, and facts tend to
show that he has in very few particulars departed from the customs,
manner of living and modes of thought which distinguished his
forefathers in the dawn of authentic Tehuelchian history. The earliest
mention of the natives of Patagonia occurs on the occasion of the
discovery of the country by Magellan in 1520. They were described as
men of huge stature, giants in fact, and the very name Patagonia is
said to be derived from the epithet "_patagon_," or "large feet,"
which the Spaniards bestowed upon them on account of the enormous
tracks their footsteps left upon the sand of the seashore. The
Tehuelches are not, as it happens, a large-footed though they are a
tall race, but, considering the curious persistency of habit, which is
one of their chief characteristics, the idea taken up by the Spanish
is easily explained. The Tehuelches wear boots of _potro_ (colt-skin)
or guanaco-skin, which project in a narrow point some inches beyond
the toes. There can be little doubt, judging by all else we know of
them, that their ancestors of Magellan's day wore the same shape of
foot-gear. The impressions left by such boots would very naturally, on
being observed by voyagers, take their place as indications of a race
of giants. In connection with this idea I may mention that several
early writers united in giving a very bad name to the Tehuelches. No
reputation could be more totally unmerited. From reading such accounts
one would be left with the conviction that the Tehuelches are
blood-thirsty and barbarous savages. This is certainly not the case
now, and I do not believe, judging from all I saw of them under
various circumstances, that such accusations could ever have been
deserved. Some travellers appear to have fallen into the error of
confounding them with other Indian races of South America, whose
characteristics and history differ absolutely from the people of whom
I am writing.
We see here how easy it is for travellers to make mistakes. More than
one writer has charged them with the habit of eating raw flesh;
whereas they cook the meat for food, but on occasion they will eat raw
fat and drink the warm blood of the ostrich, which facts, no doubt,
have given rise to the above misstatement.
Although not giants, the Tehuelches are certainly one of the finest
races in the world. Most of them average 6 ft., some attain to 6 ft. 4
in. or even more, and in all cases they are well built and well
developed. Physically, the men are splendid fellows, who look yet more
nobly formed and proportioned because of the ample folds of the skin
_capas_ and _ponchos_ in which they wrap themselves. Their way of
life tends to muscular excellence, but even taking that into
consideration the development of the arms, chest, and, in fact, the
whole body above the loins is extraordinary. But the lower limbs are
sometimes disappointing, being, in fact, the lower limbs of a race of
riders.[7]
The Tehuelche Indians of Patagonia are essentially nomads, living
chiefly upon the proceeds of their hunting, and, in a less degree,
maintaining themselves upon sale or barter connected with their
limited holding of domestic animals. Agriculture or tillage is
absolutely unknown among them. The hunting-ground is farm enough for
them, and they pitch their tents of skin where they will, or change
their quarters at the dictates of necessity or whim. They always break
camp if a death occurs among the tribe, for the spot is then
considered accursed. And they are, of course, also largely influenced
in their movements by the wanderings of the guanaco herds, which form
their principal quarry.
There are five existing camps of Indians to be found in Patagonia. I
visited two of them and a third small outlying group. Their numbers
have sadly decreased since the days of the opening 'seventies, when
George Chaworth Musters made his abode in the tribal _toldos_ and
followed with them in their wanderings. He speaks of two tribes of
Tehuelches, the northern and the southern, only distinguishable by a
slight difference of dialect, and who met and intermarried, although
they did not object to espousing opposite sides in a quarrel. Other
tribes whom he mentions did not inhabit the part of the country of
which I am writing.
The Tehuelches proper appear to have been fairly prosperous and
numerous in his day, but even then he says, speaking of them:
"Supplies of rum procured in trade at the settlements ... and disease,
small-pox especially, are rapidly diminishing their numbers." Things
have undoubtedly gone from bad to worse in this unhappy direction, and
I am inclined to think that the number of Tehuelche Indians surviving
at this period can be little over a few hundreds in number. Rum is
undoubtedly their chief foe. Drink to the uncivilised man is a danger
against which he is provided with no defence, either social or moral.
Having once tasted its fatal pleasures, he has no reason for
forbidding himself an indulgence his animal nature craves.
[Illustration: ARROWHEADS AND KNIFE, FOUND NEAR COLOHUAPI, CHUBUT.
(NOW IN COLLECTION OF MR. E. M. SPROT)]
Since the day on which the Spanish adventurers first sighted the
Patagonian coast, perhaps the one "event" in the history of the
Indians may truly be said to be the introduction of horses into their
land. Otherwise they seem to have altered little in their way of life.
Magellan says they came down to the ship clad and shod in
guanaco-skins; they are clad and shod in guanaco-skins to-day. Their
tools and knives were sharp-edged flints; I have seen the Indians skin
their quarry with precisely the same weapons.
Bows and arrows were indeed in use among the tribes when the Spaniards
visited the coast; these have now been superseded by the _boleadores_,
an innovation which in its present form came into fashion after the
Indians began to know the value of the horse. The _bolas_ is the
weapon of the Tehuelche. With it he kills his game, and with it also
he catches wild colts, and finds it useful in his simple process of
training. The _bolas_ is made up of three thongs of raw hide fastened
together at one end, the other free ends having attached to them
stones or bits of pot-iron sewn up in skin. The Indian throws his
weapon with marvellous accuracy at any animal he may be pursuing, and
the thongs coiling instantly round the legs or neck of the creature,
bring it to the ground, or, at any rate, entangle it hopelessly.
It may well be judged that this race have no history. They remain in
touch with the methods and customs according to which their
forefathers were wont to live centuries ago, and who in their turn had
derived them from still older generations. Though most of the men now
possess cheap store knives of steel, I have seen, as I said before,
many a quarry skinned with the prehistoric flint knife. They are an
intelligent people, indeed keen where bargaining is concerned, as long
as they are sober; yet they seem to be entirely lacking in that
quality which would enable them to forget the past with its
traditional usages and methods, and to follow even remotely the
sweeping onward rush that, like a tornado, carries with it the lagging
races of mankind. Although the men possess unusual strength, they do
not in the least know how to apply it. Their faces are somewhat flat,
although the features are more or less cast in the aquiline mould, and
fairly regular. The hair is coarse and lustreless, its blackness
relieved by a fillet or handkerchief of scarlet. Their teeth are
excellent, toothache being almost unknown in their tents. Although
they bathe, I have never observed among them any article that would in
any way correspond to the tooth-stick of other nomadic peoples. Their
beautiful teeth are perhaps due to their habit of chewing a gummy
substance that exudes from the incensio bush. Musters, in his book,
says they use this as a dentifrice.
[Illustration: A TEHUELCHE CACIQUE]
The women are not, according to our European ideas, beautiful, and
such comeliness as they may sometimes possess in youth blossoms and
fades quickly. They are, however, strong, and much of the camp work
falls to their share. The older women can boast of a brand of ugliness
all their own. Age to these ladies brings several vices in its
train. Most noticeable is a craving for strong waters, a weakness from
which the younger women are entirely free.
The morality of the Tehuelches is, on the whole, admirable.
Unfaithfulness in the wife is rare, and not often bitterly revenged. A
point as regards the morality of the women is to my mind rather
luminous. While the younger _chinas_ are unexceptionable in their
moral virtues, the older women cannot be so highly commended. They are
rather apt to wander from the stricter paths of decorum. When the
husband of one of these elderly houris dies, as soon as the due period
of mourning is past, the bereaved one will take up with any male in
her tribe for either a longer or a shorter period. For ugliness sheer
and unrivalled these grandmothers of the tribes stand alone. Also, as
they get on in years, these ladies often run to fat. I remember one
immense woman in the _toldos_ on the pampas between Lake Argentino and
Gallegos, who had put on flesh in a manner and to an extent almost
unbelievable.
The younger women, while the flush of girlhood is still upon them,
possess a certain comeliness which I can only describe by the
adjectives "savage" and "stolid." Yet the abundant coarse black hair
hanging round the heavily quiet faces, in which the features, though
flattened, are still slightly aquiline, the wide-open, patient eyes,
the healthful colour, and the strong, white, even teeth, which their
slow smiles disclose to you, make them, on the whole, a personable
race.
The half-bloods, as is usual, often possess real beauty, the alien
strain giving them that vivacity which the pure race seems to lack.
Some of the pictures show an unsightly slit of the lip in the case of
a few _paisanos_.[8] This hare-lip is by no means universal, but is an
hereditary peculiarity that appears in many of the members of one
special household. The arrival of a stranger in the camp makes the
women retire shyly within themselves, and it is only by chance--as it
is in the case of wild animals--that the new-comer ever sees the
unaffected and natural character shine out. When in contact with
whites the Tehuelche man also becomes reserved, the whole expression
of his countenance changes, and he is very suspicious of being laughed
at, a point on which he is very susceptible, and which he deeply
resents.
I cannot but think that the constant accusations of uncleanliness that
have been brought against the Tehuelche Indians are due to the single
fact that their dogs are allowed to live in the _toldos_. The result
in a country where scab is common may be left to the imagination. But,
apart from the crawling things which inhabit his _toldos_, the Indian
is fairly cleanly, bathing each day and swimming in the lakes and
lagoons. The women make excellent mothers, and the father is
inordinately proud of his offspring, especially of his sons. Of how
many races can so many good things be truthfully said?
They have a singular custom of bandaging the heads of infants in such
a manner as to produce a flattening of the back of the skull. It might
be worth the while of physiologists to go deeper into the matter, with
a view to discovering how far this alteration in the brain-space
determines the character of the individual operated upon. Interesting
results might thus be obtained and some vexed problems solved.
A certain stage in the life of each girl is celebrated by a festivity
in the camp. An ornamented _toldo_ is put up temporarily for the
girl's occupation, and the young men of the tribe march round it
singing while the women howl, probably with a view to exorcising any
evil spirit who may be lingering about the camp.[9] The ceremony is
followed by a feast, and the evening winds up with a dance. The men
alone take part in this, and it consists in circling round the fire,
pacing sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly. A few dance at a time,
accompanying their movements with a constant bowing or nodding of the
head, which is adorned with tufts of ostrich feathers. When one party
is tired out another takes its place.
Wives, of course, are bought and sold, but when a lady is purchased by
a suitor whom she happens to dislike, there is trouble for the
bridegroom, and conjugal obedience is only enforced after struggles,
of which the not infrequent result is that the mark of the lady's
teeth remains permanently upon her lord.
The price of a wife varies, as must be expected in the natural course
of things. Strangely enough, a girl's value often depends upon the
number of her brethren, who must receive two horses apiece. To buy a
bride with means or rather animals of her own, an heiress in fact, who
comes of well-to-do people, as much as a hundred mares have been
given--or shall I say paid.[10]
When desirous of carrying on matrimonial negotiations the would-be
bridegroom must always employ a go-between. To omit this ceremonial
method of approach would be an outrage on etiquette. I conclude,
though I do not know it for a fact as regards Patagonia, that the
go-between in that country gets his pickings from both sides as his
congener does elsewhere.
The marriage ceremony is delightfully simple. After the preliminary
bargaining has been successfully brought to a close, the happy
bridegroom mounts his horse and rides to the _toldo_ of his intended
and hands over his appointed gifts, receiving those of the parents in
return. He then carries back his bride amid the cheers and cries of
his friends, and in the evening there is a feast. Musters remarks that
on these occasions the dogs are not permitted to touch the meat or
offal of the animals killed, as it is considered unlucky if they do
so.
The gifts which are exchanged between the parties form in a more or
less degree a marriage settlement, for in case of divorce her parents'
gifts accrue to the wife. Polygamy is allowed but not much practised
among the tribes.
Few phenomena are to my mind more unaccountable than the action of the
white man who "goes fantee."
"Went fantee, joined the people of the land,
Turned three parts Mussulman and one Hindoo,
And lived among the Gauri villages,
Who gave him shelter and a wife or twain."
This singular mental or moral warp which results in a man "going
fantee" is by no means uncommon in Patagonia. Of course, as may be
imagined, a certain proportion of such men fall to this condition at
the end of the career variegated. Others prefer ruling in Cathay to
serving in any other community more dignified; others again take
daughters of the land to wife because their trade lies with the
Indians.
There is, however, one very strong objection to this latter course of
marrying, Tehuelche fashion, a _china_ of the _toldos_, and that is
that all the relatives of the lady in question are apt to quarter
themselves upon the bridegroom. Occasionally the white man objects,
but I imagine that the cases of those who object successfully are
rare. But there is one _estanciero_ in Patagonia who is the father of
two buxom daughters by a Tehuelche wife. These girls are now grown up,
and their tribe was encamped during the winter of 1900 not two hours'
ride from the dwelling-place of their father. Yet I am assured the
father never aided the tribe or his own offspring in any way, although
that winter was so severe that starvation visited the _toldos_ of the
tribe. A man of this mettle is, however, not frequently to be heard
of, and cases of a quite laudable affection having existed between a
white man and a _china_ are on record.
But, at the same time, it must be repeated that the influence of the
white who goes to live among the Indians as one of themselves, almost
without exception, makes for evil. I have already spoken of the
offspring of the mixed unions. The Tehuelche blood gives to the faces
of the half-breed women an expression of sad patience, while the
Spanish connection adds certainly to their gift of beauty.
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE MATRON, SHOWING HARE-LIP]
The women have very simple ideas of adornment. They generally take the
form of silver necklets and the red fillet bound in their hair.[11]
Their dress is composed of the picturesque guanaco-skin _capa_, or
mantle, worn with the wool inside. Woman, to tell the truth, holds no
such bad position among the Patagonian Indians. She does the cooking,
but little else that can be called hard work, except the taking down
and pitching of the _toldos_ when the tribe break camp. They carry on
a slack industry in the form of weaving _ponchos_ from guanaco
wool. Some species of earth is used for dyeing the wool, but the
resulting colours are dull. In this particular the Tehuelches differ
from the Indians of the northern pampas, whose dyeing materials are
derived from herbs, and give brighter tints. These _ponchos_ and
saddle-rugs made by the _chinas_ are much prized and sought after as
curiosities, hence the makers demand very high prices for them--even
up to thirty or forty dollars each.
The women also spend some of their time in sewing together the skins
of guanaco or ostriches into rugs, using sinews for thread. Rugs of
this kind and bunches of ostrich feathers form the staple commodities
which they offer at the settlements for sale.
The hair of the adult animal, being harsh and coarse, is of less value
in the market than that of the young guanaco; therefore the hunters
endeavour to secure chiefly the pelts of the young guanaco, some of
the rugs being even made from the skin of the unborn, which is cut out
of the mother a few days previous to the date when they would
naturally be dropped. At certain seasons enormous numbers of these
pelts are to be seen drying, pegged out, beside the Indian _toldos_.
The time of year during which the hunting of guanaco _chicos_, or
little ones, is carried on includes the latter half of October and the
month of November.
I am afraid it must be confessed that the Tehuelches are a very lazy
race. Nearly everything which makes any demand upon their
energies--with the exception of hunting--seems too much trouble for
them to do. Few individuals become even comparatively rich, and even
then live none the better for it. One could never guess whether a man
were rich or poor by his dress; he carries no sign of improved
circumstances in his person or bearing. The owner of two thousand
beasts will come into camp and sit by your fire, putting in a plea
with the humblest for a cupful of _maté_. Occasionally an Indian will
act as a guide across the empty distances of the p
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