Kitabı oku: «Across Patagonia», sayfa 9
In the morning we rode up a tall hill, from which we could get a good view of the interior. At the same time we were able to assure ourselves that it would be useless, slightly provisioned as we were, to attempt to penetrate any farther, the country before us being still more thickly wooded than that we had already traversed.
For some distance we could catch glimpses among the hills of bright green valleys, with whose excellent pastures our nimble friends the wild horses were doubtless well acquainted; and farther on rose a forest of white peaks, one towering above the other, till the tallest faded, hazy and indistinct, into the skies. I would fain have dived into their farthest mystery, but it was not to be; so, with a sigh of regret, we turned our horses' heads in a homeward direction. We got back to the camp late in the evening, having taxed our horses' powers to the utmost to accomplish our return trip in one day. Our account of the wonderful blue lake and the strange country beyond excited the envy of those who had remained behind, and led to a discussion as to the practicability of our entering the mountains, bag and baggage. But the difficulties in our way were too many and formidable, and reluctantly we were compelled to abandon this seductive plan.
CHAPTER XVIII
WE THINK OF RETURNING – GOOD-BYE TO THE CORDILLERAS – THE LAST OF THE WILD HORSES – MOSQUITOES – A STORMY NIGHT – A CALAMITY – THE LAST OF OUR BISCUIT – THE UTILITY OF FIRE-SIGNALS.
A few more days spent in the Cordilleras brought us near the time when it was necessary to begin to think of returning to Sandy Point. Our provisions were beginning to sink rapidly; tea and coffee and sugar we still had plenty of, but the biscuit bags were getting ominously low, and all our other dainties had already been consumed; and many of our camps were painfully remembered in connection with this or that article of food, which had been partaken of there for the last time. Thus, near "Los Bargnales" we had finished our last tin of butter; "Los Morros" witnessed the broaching of our last tin of preserved milk; and here, in the Cordilleras, we ruefully swallowed our last dish of porridge. Guanaco meat is good, so is ostrich meat; good, too, is an open-air, gipsy life in a bright climate, with lots of sport and pleasant companionship; but the goodness of all these things is materially enhanced by the accompaniment of good cheer, and materially depreciated by the lack of it. Thus, when our daily menu began to consist of a series of ingenious changes on the monotonous theme of ostrich and guanaco meat, varied only by baked biscuits, our thoughts somehow began to run in the groove of home; and we often found ourselves talking of "dear old England" and its roast beef in a strain of affectionate longing. Somehow the air of Patagonia did not seem so bracing and inspiriting as at first; we began to grow sceptical on the subject of guanaco and ostrich hunting; we discovered that the wild duck were too tame to give real good sport, and that snipe-shooting in a country where these birds get up in flocks, is simply a matter of loading and pulling the trigger. Discomforts and hardships, of which we once made light, we now began to take as serious matters, and our tempers, once so sweet and accommodating, had begun to grow acrid and touchy. We all felt more inclined to dwell on the weight of our individual opinions, and less disposed to value those of our companions. Once we had avoided discussions, as liable to disturb the harmony which reigned among us; now we welcomed them as pleasant irritants, and even went out of our way to provoke them. The result was that one day, on somebody's suggesting that perhaps we had better think of returning; after a little opposition, as a matter of course (for in our then mood it was quite sufficient for anybody to propose a plan for everybody else to immediately gainsay it), we unanimously agreed that, considering that we had seen a good deal of Patagonia, considering, too, that our provisions were nearly exhausted, and that our horses were very stale, it was better to start at once.
So one morning the packhorses were driven up, and the familiar occupation of loading them gone through. It had now become a much simpler matter than formerly, and we were enabled to comfort ourselves with the reflection that the loss in our larder was a gain as regards the time economised every day in packing up.
Before leaving our pretty camp we carved our names on one of the trees, and erected a cairn, on the top of which we left a bottle – the only emblem of civilisation we could spare. Then, mounting, we turned our backs on the Cordilleras, and set out towards the ravine we had entered by, whose name, among the traders, is "The Wild Horse Ravine." As we were riding along, a solitary horse suddenly appeared on the crest of a hill, and, after eyeing us for a moment, came tearing down towards us at a frantic gallop, with a loud neigh, and perhaps dangerous intentions. Our troop of horses scattered in all directions; Gregorio and I'Aria got out their "bolas," prepared for emergencies, and we curiously awaited the sequel of the incident. Nearer and nearer came the untamed steed, without abating his speed one jot, and evidently determined to charge right at us. We began to feel uncomfortable, but put our trust in Gregorio's deftness, though it was perhaps well it was not put to the test. When within about ten yards of us the wild horse suddenly stopped, stood still for one second, and then turned, and, with two sets of "bolas" whizzing harmlessly round his ears, went bounding away as fast as he had come, never stopping till he reached the top of the hill he had first appeared on. This was the last we saw of the "Bagnales."
Late in the afternoon we crossed the ravine where we had camped before entering the Cordilleras. Here we were assailed by a thick cloud of mosquitoes, who annoyed us and our poor horses horribly, buzzing round us, and biting viciously wherever they could settle. For a time nothing was to be heard but angry exclamations and objurgations, mingled with occasional cries of fiendish joy as one of us succeeded in destroying half a dozen of our thirsty tormentors with one slap of the hand. But from the fury of their numbers there was no refuge, opposition only increased their virulence, and those who were fiercest and most energetic in driving them off were always surrounded by the thickest cloud. Relief only came when we got out of the ravine into the plain, and there one puff of wind swept our enemy clean away in a second, not one mosquito remaining to curse at or to kill.
Thankful for our release from this annoyance, we were not disposed to grumble very much at the oppressive heat to which we were exposed during the whole of the day, though the sun beat down on us from a cloudless sky with overpowering force, and our burnt and blistered faces smarted painfully under its fiery rays. We camped that night near a broad lagoon, and for the next few days continued our journey over the plains, without anything of note occurring. Hitherto we had been pretty fortunate as regards the weather, and the nights especially, with hardly an exception, had been calm and fine. But one march before reaching Coy-Inlet River we camped in a broad valley, where our experience of Patagonian nights was unpleasantly varied. Shortly after we had gone to bed, the misgivings which the threatening aspect of the sky had called up, as we took a last glance at the weather before turning in, were more than realised. The wind began to pipe ominously through the grass, and before long it was blowing a regular gale. A sudden squall carried our tents clean out of their pickets, and sent them whirling through the air. A scene of the most uncomfortable confusion ensued. It was pouring with rain, pitch dark, and the wind was blowing with such force that it was hard to keep one's legs. Rugs, and clothes, and smouldering embers were being blown in all directions; everybody was blundering about in the darkness, tripping up over something, or falling against some one else; and the howling of the wind, the rush of the river, the chorus of loud imprecations in various languages, and the unearthly moaning and whimpering of the dogs, made up as wild a scene of noisy confusion as could possibly be imagined.
Several vain attempts were made to set up the tents, but the wind was too strong; and at last, perfectly drenched through, we had to give up the attempt, and crawl into whatever furs first came to hand, to wait till the storm should pass over. This it did not do till about four o'clock in the morning, just as it was getting light. It was too late or early to go to bed again then, so we crept out, sleepy, and damp, and miserable, and drank hot coffee round a smoking fire, till the sun got up and warmed us thoroughly.
We were to camp that evening by the Coy-Inlet River, and as it was a good way off we set out soon after breakfast. We passed several herds of guanaco, and also a herd of about eighty or a hundred ostriches. I had never seen so many together before. We gave chase to them, but the dogs got so excited, running first after one ostrich and then after another, that at last they all got away. A calamity happened to us that afternoon. The mare who carried the two little bags with all that remained of our greatest treasure – our biscuits, suddenly took fright at something, and galloped wildly away. We followed her course with anxious eyes and beating hearts, not daring to go after her, lest it should aggravate her fears. For a time the pack sat firmly, and we began to breathe, but even while we watched, oh, horror! it began to incline towards one side, and then gradually slid over. The moment the mare felt it underneath her she began to kick out, and galloping quicker and quicker, in a very few seconds she was packless and pacified. Then only did we gallop forward to know the worst, and the worst was bad indeed. A long trail of broken biscuits, sown in the grass, marked the course the unfortunate mare had taken, and when we got to the bags only a few small handfuls remained. We tried to gather together what we could, but the biscuit, by long travel, had broken into fine dust, and it was quite impossible to pick much out of the long grass it had fallen into. Our last kettle had also severely suffered in the fracâs, a big hole appearing in its side when, after a long search, it was at last found. Guillaume talked hopefully of being able to mend it, but failing this desirable consummation, farewell the cheering cup of maté; farewell the morning bowl of grateful coffee; farewell content – the camp-life's chiefest comfort gone! Slowly and mournfully we tied up what was left of the biscuits in a small canvas bag, which Gregorio secured to his saddle, and then, after having devoted a quarter of an hour to grazing on all fours on such fragments as could be found among the grass, we continued our journey, reflecting on the vanity of all things.
We arrived at Coy-Inlet River that evening, and fording it, camped near the bank. It rained again during the night, but as there was little or no wind, it did not matter much, and excepting a pervading sense of dampness, we suffered no great discomfort. Continuing our march that day over the plains that lay between Coy-Inlet River and the Gallegos, we saw the smoke of numerous fires in the distance; but there was no response to the fires we lit in answer, and so we concluded that they were only old fires, which were still smouldering. The next day one of our party had an opportunity of practically testing the value of fires as a means of signalling one's whereabouts in the pampa. He had got up early in the morning, and had gone out on foot at about five o'clock with his rifle, to try and stalk a guanaco. At ten o'clock he had not returned. As we had only a short march to make that day, it did not matter if we started a little later than usual, so we lay about, waiting for his return. Eleven, twelve o'clock came, but still no signs of him. He had now been away more than seven hours, and I began to think that something must have happened to him. We therefore rode up on the plains to look for him, lighting fires at intervals, to show the position of the camp, and anxiously scanning the horizon to see whether he had also made a fire. But though we rode about for a long time nothing was to be seen, and we went back to the camp, wondering what could have happened. Just as we were in the middle of a perplexed discussion as to what steps to take in the matter, to our relief he suddenly came into the camp, blood-stained and tired, and carrying the head and ribs of a guanaco on his back. Shortly after leaving the camp he had wounded a guanaco, which went off, however, and led him a long dance for two or three hours, without his being able to come within range of it again. In despair, he at last fired a couple of shots at it from a long range, but, as it seemed, without reaching his mark. These shots exhausted his ammunition, our supply of ball-cartridges being very low, and he having only allowed himself three rounds. Loath to abandon the wounded animal, he had followed it pertinaciously over ravines and hills, always vowing to himself that beyond a certain point he would follow no farther, but always being lured on by the signs of exhaustion the guanaco was showing, to go just a little farther. At last he had the satisfaction of seeing it lie down, and with a shout of triumph ran forward to despatch it with his hunting-knife. But at his approach the guanaco jumped up again, and slowly as it ran, it was enabled to outdistance its relentless pursuer, who was already thoroughly done up with his exertions; but feeling that with patience he must conquer at last, he felt less inclined than ever to abandon his prey. Already numerous hawks and condors were circling over the doomed guanaco, and the thought that the fruit of his labours would only go to provide a feast for these hateful marauders was an additional incentive to persevere. At last success rewarded his efforts. Waiting till the guanaco lay down once more, he approached it by degrees, and then, when within twenty yards or so of it, made a dash towards it. It stumbled in trying to get up, and he had just time to rush up and catch it by the ear, and with a happy stroke of his long hunting-knife end its sufferings. It was only when he had cut it up, and laden himself with the best parts, that he began to reflect that in the excitement of the chase he had quite forgotten in which direction the camp lay. He had followed the guanaco now to the right, now to the left, often having to run to keep it in view, and all he knew was that several hours must have elapsed since he started in its pursuit. He lit several fires, but he only had a few matches, and the fires unfortunately soon went out, so that he had no means of showing us his own whereabouts. However, he struck out in a direction in which he imagined the camp must lie, and kept wearily trudging on under his load, which, tired as he was, he was naturally loath to part from. After he had gone a good distance he looked around, and then the skyline behind him appeared to be singularly like that he remembered having seen on leaving the camp. But then the skyline to the left, somehow, had the same look too. Which was the right one? He was just revolving this puzzling question in his mind, in no very pleasant humour, when he caught a glimpse of the smoke of the fires we had lit, and happily not far off, in the direction he had instinctively chosen from the first as the right one. The sight gave him new vigour, and though he had still a good distance to go, he managed to reach the camp at last, without having to throw away the meat which had cost him such a hard day's work.
CHAPTER XIX
ISIDORO – AN UNSAVOURY MEAL – EXPENSIVE LOAVES – GUANACO SCARCE – DISAPPOINTMENT – NIGHT SURPRISES US – SUPPERLESS – CONTINUED FASTING – NO MEAT IN THE CAMP.
We rode down a broad valley, which led to the Gallegos River, where we were to camp for the night. On reaching its farther end we were suddenly surprised by the sight of an Indian camp, composed of three tents, which were pitched on the other side of the river. Having little curiosity to make the acquaintance of their inmates, we continued our journey along the river towards our intended camp, but Gregorio and Mr. B. rode over to see them. They rejoined us an hour afterwards; Mr. B. had found an old friend, an Argentine Gaucho, named Isidoro, who had accompanied him on a former trip, and whom, curiously enough, he had parted from a year before, on exactly the same spot where he now met him. I was glad to hear that Isidoro was going to pay us a visit the next day, as I had heard a great deal about him, and was anxious to make his acquaintance. We camped near the river, seven or eight miles away from the Indian camp, and consequently, we hoped, rather too far to attract a call from these people, the disagreeable experience of their visit whilst we were at Cape Gregorio being still fresh in my mind.
Early in the morning we saw a man riding in the direction of the camp, who, I was told, was Isidoro. He presently appeared among us, and, except for his moustache and beard, and the superior cleanliness of his dress, he might have been taken for an Indian. He was warmly welcomed by the guides, amongst whom his unequalled proficiency in all that pertains to the pampa craft, and his personal character, had gained him great prestige. Isidoro did not stop long, as he was going to hunt with the Indians that day; so, after having taken a few cups of maté, and smoked a pipe or two in silence, he said good-bye, and took his departure.
As he rode away, I could not help admiring his manly bearing and his perfect seat on a splendid, well-bred looking horse, which seemed not unworthy of its master. He wore his guanaco capa with a certain foppish grace that one might have looked in vain for in Gregorio or any of the others, and every article of his accoutrements, from his carefully coiled lasso to the bright-coloured garters round his new potro-boots, was perfectly finished and natty.
After he had gone, my husband and myself started off guanaco-hunting. We soon killed a guanaco, and were busily engaged in the laborious operation of cutting it up, when we heard a grunt, and looking up, saw an Indian behind us on horseback. He watched our clumsy efforts for some time in silence, occasionally breaking out into loud laughter, and then dismounting, took out his own knife, and with a few adroit and easy cuts, did the whole trick in no time. He rewarded himself for his labours by cutting out the kidneys and the heart, and eating them raw and bloody, there and then! This disgusting repast over, he smacked his lips, mounted his horse, and rode away, grinning eloquently, and leaving us wondering and horrified.
The evening after our halt at Gallegos we camped in a stony, rocky region, where there was very little grass, but plenty of quail, several of which we shot, though we found them to be very dry and unpalatable. It poured all the next day, so we were compelled to remain where we were, much against our will. To have to lie all day in a little tent, with a dreary bit of gray landscape to look out upon, while the rain patters on the canvas in a remorseless, dispiriting monotone, is one of the most severe trials one's patience can be put to, and ours came very badly out of the ordeal, Patagonia being by no means complimentarily alluded to in the course of these weary hours. However, towards sundown, it cleared up, and we were able to have a turn and stretch our limbs in the open air before it got dark.
Two days after leaving this camp we struck the Indian trail to Sandy Point, and on the third we camped opposite Cape Gregorio, not far from the place whence we had made our visit to the Indians. Here we intended halting for a couple of days to take in a good supply of meat before starting for Sandy Point, as neither guanaco nor ostriches were to be met with, except by a mere chance, any farther south, and all our other provisions being exhausted, we had now to rely solely upon the product of the chase for our food.
In the morning two traders passed through our camp, and we were delighted to find that they had a small bag of bread, which they were taking to the Indians. They sold us twenty small loaves, each about the size of a penny roll, for five pounds; and I think they got the best of the bargain, for the bread was half mildewed and scarcely eatable, and so heavy, that even the stomach of an ostrich could scarcely have compassed its digestion with impunity. Famished as we were, we preferred to give it to the dogs, who showed their good sense by turning up their noses at it; and unless the foxes rashly experimented upon it after our departure, for aught I know these expensive loaves may still be lying in a fossil state on the Patagonian pampas!
We all went out guanaco-hunting that day, but were not very successful. I'Aria managed to run down a young one with his dog, and Mr. B. shot one; but as he killed it some twenty miles away from our camp he could only bring the head and the two sides, not daring to load his dead-beat horse with more.
But meat had to be procured somehow, so next day, whilst the others went on along the trail with the packhorses, my husband, Mr. B., myself, and Gregorio, went out hunting again, intending to catch up the others before the evening. We rode for several hours towards Cape Gregorio, but although we saw several ostriches, they got up very wild, and pursuit of them was always out of the question. Guanaco, there were none to be seen. This was very dispiriting; if we did not manage to kill anything here it was still more unlikely that we should be able to do so farther on. Our companions were relying on our efforts, and to have to join them empty-handed would have been in itself vexatious enough from a sportsman's point of view, apart from the serious and practical consideration that we could scarcely go on to Sandy Point, which was quite three days' march away, without food. So we kept riding on towards Cape Gregorio, in the hopes of still being able to find something. We presently sighted some guanacos grazing at the base of a ridge of hills, and whilst Gregorio went after an ostrich, which sprang up at that moment, we three spurred our horses, and separating, so as to attract as little attention as possible, rode towards them.
I soon lost sight of my companions, who disappeared down some of the many gulches that led to the valley where the guanaco were grazing. Fervently praying that one of us might be successful, I hurried on. When I got into the valley, to my chagrin I saw that the guanaco, already aware of danger, were moving slowly up the valley, not at a great distance from where I was, but still a good way beyond rifle-range. Mr. B., who was a long way to the left, was much nearer to them, and my husband was in a similar position to the right. As we approached, the guanaco trotted up among the hills and disappeared. We had no option but to follow them, entering on the range of hills at different points, as the herd would probably scatter as soon as we came close upon them.
I came upon them of a sudden, and, as I had surmised, they all broke into different directions. I took a flying shot at one, but missed, and presently a report on each side of me showed that the others had had a shot too. I was soon joined by my husband, who had also been unsuccessful, but Mr. B. did not turn up, and we began to hope that he might have killed something. We presently saw him galloping full speed up a distant hill after a guanaco, which was no doubt wounded, but which seemed to be going too gamely to admit of our being very sanguine as to his chance of ultimately getting at it. We waited for some time, but he did not reappear, and so we went down into the valley to look for Gregorio. He soon came in sight, and, unfortunately, as empty-handed as we ourselves were. Matters were now getting serious. The day was far gone, and to catch up our companions on our jaded horses would have been a hard task, unless we started at once. We were therefore obliged to relinquish all hope of getting any guanaco ourselves that day, our only consolation being that Mr. B.'s prolonged absence boded that he at least had been successful.
We waited for him a little, but as he did not come, knowing that he could find the way to the place where the others were to camp, we rode on, lighting fires at intervals, to show our whereabouts. Our horses were so tired that we could scarcely get them into a trot, and to our dismay we suddenly found it was getting dark. The sky had been clouded all day, and we had had no sun to judge the time by, the result being that we were two or three hours out in our calculations. It is very easy to guess the time within half an hour or so, under ordinary circumstances, but the excitement of our various runs after guanacos and ostriches had so absorbed us that the hours had slipped by unperceived. We thus found ourselves face to face with the uncomfortable knowledge that, it being quite impossible to catch up the others, we should have to go to bed in the open, and unless Mr. B. had killed his guanaco, supperless. The unpleasantness of this at any time disagreeable contingency was increased on this occasion by the prospect of our getting wet through into the bargain, for the aspect of the sky was very threatening, and it was only in keeping with our day's luck that there should be a downpour of rain during the night. But there was absolutely nothing to be done but give in to the inevitable as cheerfully as we could, so we dismounted and unsaddled our horses, carefully tethering them to some bushes, lest they should stray away in the night, and then we sat down to await Mr. B's coming, the numerous fires we had lit on the way making us quite sure he would be able to find us. But it grew darker and darker, the tooth of hunger got fiercer and fiercer, and still he did not come. What could have happened? Surely he must have run down the guanaco, or given up the chase hours ago. Perhaps he has met with some accident! That's impossible! With these and other reflections we beguiled the anxious moments, hoping against hope that before long a goodly rib of guanaco would be roasting at the blazing fire we had prepared in rash anticipation of its advent. But time went on; already we could scarcely distinguish the bushes in the distance, the hills faded away altogether into the darkness, and our missing companion did not come. Having strained our eyes blind, peering into the gloom, we now sat silently, straining our ears to catch the slightest sign of an approaching footstep; but our hopes grew gradually fainter and fainter, and at last we were obliged to give them up altogether. Gregorio fortunately found a small piece of guanaco meat in one of his saddle-bags, which we cooked and ate, a small mouthful being all each of us got. Mingled with our regrets for our enforced fast were speculations as to what Mr. B. was doing at that moment. Had he killed his guanaco, and (horrible thought!) was he at that very moment perhaps roasting its head in the ashes? or was he in a worse plight than ourselves, – supperless as well as companionless? Our thoughts reverted to the other party too, who no doubt were in some anxiety as to what could have become of us. I did not sleep very sound that night, nor did my companions, as may be imagined. Just as day broke the dogs gave tongue; there was a crashing among the bushes, and Mr. B. rode up, with an eager, hungry look on his face, which boded no good. "Have you got anything to eat?" were his first words, to which our despairing answer was, "Good gracious! haven't you?" And our faces grew longer and more disconsolate than ever, as the hopes of a good breakfast, which had hitherto sustained us, were remorselessly shattered on both sides.
There was nothing to be done but immediately saddle and ride off to join our companions. On the way Mr. B. told us how he had followed the wounded guanaco till he had run his horse to a complete standstill, and like us, having been overtaken by darkness, had been obliged to stop where he was till morning.
After several hours' ride we got to the place where the others were camped, and found them very much alarmed at our protracted absence, though they had naturally supposed that we had been taken a long distance out of our way by the chase. We lost no time in making a hearty meal on what remained of the guanaco meat, which being finished, there was no food of any kind in the camp.
