dark days in chile. an account of the revolution of 1891. (1892)

8/12/2019 Dark Days in Chile. an Account of the Revolution of 1891. (1892)

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DARK DAYS IN CHILE

AN ACCOUNT OFTHE REVOLUTION OF 1891

BY

MAURICE H. HERYEYSPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF THE TIMES

WITH FIFTEEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDONEDWAED AENOLD37 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.

blislur to the Ettfci1891-1892

All rights reserved


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6245"

BarKroft LibraryUniversity of CaliforniaWITHDRAWN

PEEFACE

WHATEVER may be the verdict in store for thisvolume, it may at least claim the merit of beinga faithful record of the writer s experiences, observations, and convictions. With the exception ofthe last chapter, the book is based upon notesmade regularly and methodically in Chile. Andthat the author s views upon the merits of thepolitical questions at issue are not those commonly held by his fellow-countrymen is entirelydue to the conflicting sources of information uponwhich those views are respectively based. WhetherJose Manuel Balmaceda was a bloodthirsty tyrantor a well-meaning, if also ill-advised, patriot, willnot be decided, either in or out of Chile, until


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vi PREFACEmen s minds shall have overcome the bitter partisan feeling begotten by civil war.

My thanks are due to Messrs. Laird Bros., forkindly lending photographs of the Imperial andother vessels built by them, for the purposes ofillustration ; and to the proprietors of Black andWhite, for permission to reproduce some sketchesthat appeared in its pages.

MAURICE H. HERVEY.LONDON, November, 1891.


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CONTENTS.CHAPTEE I.

OUTWARD BOUND. PAGEModern Journalism A Voyage at Short Notice ThePortugal My Fellow-Travellers Discipline v. Gallantry Dakar A Moribund King and his SubjectsEio de Janeiro Monte Video Buenos Aires AContrast 1

CHAPTEE II.ARGENTINA.

An Interview with President Pellegrini The Man withthe Iron Mask British Preponderance A Good TimeI form an Opinion upon the Argentine SituationGo on to Chile Pellegrini s Opinion of BalmacedaSensational Telegrams The Andes reported infestedby Bandits I engage a Fighting Secretary And takea Frenchman under my Wing - 14

CHAPTER III.CROSSING THE ANDES.

A Long Rail Journey Travelling en Prince MendozaA Lift to Uspallata Fifty Miles on a Cowcatcher Scenery Uspallata A Lost Child onmy Hands Roughing it A Facetious MuleteerA Dry Stage An Independent Yankee RioBlanco Las Vacas A Goatherd-subscriber to the

Times Montes Corrales Monte de Los Penitentes AMule Race Corresponsal wins Val de la TolorziaCajou del Rio de Las Cuevas Puente del Inca APosada A Night in a Menagerie The Juncal VolcanoThe Summit of the Cordillera A Slippery DescentLake Portillo A Primitive Hostelry The Soldier sLeap The Meeting of the Waters Juncal A WildDrive Santa Rosa de Los Andes - - - 30


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viii CONTENTSCHAPTEE IV.

CHILE AND ITS CONDITION.PAGE

Santiago A State of Siege Kevolutionist Opinions ofPresident Balmaceda Wanted, Evidence I hear theother Side of the Question An Interview with Balmaceda His Views A Eeview of the Situation A Sketchof Chilian Society Chile and British EnterpriseColonel North and his Mission Dr. Russell uponChile and the Nitrate Fields Realized Prophecy-Revolutionary Tactics I arrive at Conclusions Rightor Wrong ? - 62

CHAPTER V.THE TKOUBLES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.

How to correspond Telegraph Lines closed Mailssupervised An Ultimatum to the Government Pozoal Monte A Review of Government Troops Opinionin the Provinces My Lost Child gets into TroubleValparaiso Opinion there An Expedition against theRevolted Fleet A Tempting Offer I accept MyFighting Secretary deserts me And follows in theFootsteps of my Lost Child Stick v. Bayonet Political Memoranda The Times and I Go, but wireFacts only An Interview with Rear-Admiral Hotham

I refuse Good Advice - - - - 112

CHAPTER VI.MY FIEST CRUISE WITH THE SQUADRON.

A Difference of Opinion Practice makes Perfect ThePlan of Operations A Compromise En route for Cal-dera We lose our Consorts Stirring News Fever onBoard A Warning The Sinking of the Blanco En-calada The Quartermaster s Yarn Valparaiso Captain Moraga s Account of the Blanco Exploit OneGood Turn deserves Another The Revolutionists tryOrsini Tactics A Chilian Heroine The Elections - 158


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CONTENTS ixCHAPTEE VII.

MY SECOND CRUISE.PAGEThe Plan of Operations Troops for Coquimbo Sceneson Board Coquimbo British Naval Station LaSerena Moraga s Advice to Admiral Hotham Enroute for Iquique Coaling at Sea I tranship to theCondell A Contrast A Desperate Adventure The

Last Watch Captain Cook Moraga the Wolf UnMauvais Quart d Heure In Iquique Harbour TheUnion Jack saves the Eebel Transports An AlarmA Difficult Torpedo-shot Moraga s Dilemma TheIronclad Cochrane bears down A Harebrained Exploit What the Prisoners said and did Northwardto sink the O Higgins in a Peruvian Port A Sea-Lawyer The Huascar and the Magellanes A NavalSkirmish Adios Moraga the Lamb A Clever Euse

Captain Cook saves us A Naval Duel declinedWe rejoin the Imperial Bombardment of IquiqueBombardment of Taltal An Attack in Boats Captureof Taltal A Banquet and a Bill Coquimbo Valparaiso - - 189

CHAPTEE VIII.MY THIRD CRUISE.

A Spell Ashore Chilian News from Abroad Balmacedabelieves in Moral Effect At Sea once more A Tempting Bait A Narrow Escape Pisagua bombardedIquique bombarded Tocopilla captured Nitrate-duties for Balmaceda The British Vice-Consul sOpinion Antofagasta bombarded A Deserted VillageChanaral The Condell in Peril Eeprisals AStarving Population Mr. Sherriff s Account TheImperial becomes an Emigrant Ship A delayed Telegram Farewells - - - 224

CHAPTEE IX.HOMEWARD BOUND.

How I missed the Liguria A Hot Ten Minutes AFriend in Need Travelling made Easy A MeetingConcepcion Coronel I catch the Liguria The Old


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CONTENTSStory Magellan Straits A Wreck Monte VideoEio de Janeiro Bahia A Negro Polyglot Pernam-buco Lisbon The Errazuriz Plymouth Home,Sweet Home - - - - - -252

CHAPTEE X.THE TRIUMPH OF THE REVOLUTION.

Back from the Grave Smart Paragraphing Newsfrom Chile The Gumming Incident The InvasionA Close Shave Barbosa the Eash The Battle ofColmo or Concon The Attack upon Vina del MarStrategy The Insurgent Army receives AccessionsBalmaceda a Bad Strategist The Battle of PlacillaResults Sauve qui pent The Lynch caught NappingA Eevel of Fiends How the Triumph was celebrated in Santiago Balmaceda vanishes SefiorMontt and the Eump Convey, the Wise it call AModel Correspondent Balmaceda s alleged SuicideProspects of Future Peace The Trouble with theUnited States How to bring about a ConservativeEeaction Conclusion ----- 268

Note on the Chilian Constitution - - 310Appendix A. The Transandine Eailway - 315

,, B. The Value of Torpedoes in Naval Warfare 320C. Chilian Characteristics and Customs - 327


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LIST OP ILLUSTEATIONSPAGE

POKTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR - FrontispiecePUKNTA DEL INCA, ON THE ROUTE OF THE TRANSANDINE RAILWAY - - 33

ATTACK ON THE COCHRANE BY TORPEDO-BOATS - 75BOMBARDMENT OF IQUIQUE - 79JOSri MANUEL BALMACEDA - 87REVIEW OF TROOPS AT VALPARAISO - 117THE ARMED CRUISER IMPERIAL 5 - 133DON CLAUDIO VICUNA - 149CAPTAIN CARLOS MORAGA - 161A CHILIAN HEROINE - 183THE TORPEDO VESSEL CONDELL - 199THE HUASCAR - - 235CHILIAN SOLDIERS - 247AFTER THE BATTLE - 285RUINS IN VALPARAISO - - - 297


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DARK DAYS IN CHILECHAPTER I.

OUTWARD BOUND.Modern Journalism A Voyage at Short Notice The PortugalMy Fellow-TravellersDiscipline v. Gallantry DakarA Moribund King and his Subjects Kio de Janeiro MonteVideo Buenos Aires A Contrast.PERHAPS few persons who daily scan the greatLondon journals for foreign intelligence ever pauseto reflect upon the marvellous foresight, energy, andexpense necessary to produce results which can bepurchased by the readers for a few pence. Let them,however, but consider the number and the lengthof the telegrams, from all parts of the world, published in any ordinary number of, say, the Times,supplemented, as these are, by descriptive lettersfrom correspondents, and they will be constrainedto admit that modern journalism spares nothing tomaintain its position in the vanguard of modern progress. Let but aught of public interest occur inthe most distant quarter of the globe, and forthwith

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DARK DAYS IN CHILEan envoy is despatched to inquire into the matter.Thus it fell to the writer s lot, early in the presentyear, to be selected for service in South America,when the vexed question of Argentine finance andthe recent outbreak of civil war in Chile hadbecome topics of considerable interest to Englishreaders. My orders were clear and concise. Iwas to get to Buenos Aires as quickly as possible, and I was to report upon what I saw tothe best of my judgment. A few inquiries madeit plain that the first steamer would leave Bordeaux upon the 4th of February ; and withintwenty-four hours of receiving my instructionsI had bidden farewell to my friends, and wasen route for Paris. There I had but barelytime for an interview with General Mitre, thepopular candidate for the presidency of Argentina, to telegraph the results of the said interview to the Times, and to catch the night mailfor Bordeaux. I had even less time to sparehere, for I arrived at 8 a.m., and the MessageriesMaritimes steamer Portugal, lying some thirtymiles down the Garonne, was due to sail twohours later. I followed the mail-bags, well knowing that she could not start until they wereaboard, was politely accommodated upon themail-tender, and got safely on deck at least tenminutes before the good ship steamed away fromLa Belle France.A fine boat of 4,500 tons is this same Portugal,


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OUTWARD BOUNDand fairly well up to date in the matter of speed.By the captain and his officers I was treated fromthe first, and throughout the voyage, with the mostmarked courtesy, the commissaire making himselfespecially amiable in the important matters ofa most comfortable cabin (all to myself) and aseat of honour at table. Doubtless the facts thatI was the only Englishman on board, and specialcorrespondent du grand journal Anglais, combined to secure for me all these attentions, ofwhich I shall always have the most pleasantrecollections. Fortunately, French is almost asfamiliar to me as my mother -tongue, so thatwithin a very few hours I felt thoroughly cliez moi.

Life on board an ocean-going steamer has beendescribed so often and so well, by far clevererpens than mine, that I need not dwell at anygreat length upon this portion of my late experiences. A few points of comparison betweenEnglish and French mail services may, however,be of interest to intending travellers. Nor canI wholly overlook my fellow-passengers.As regards accommodation, attendance, management generally, there is little, or nothing, to choosebetween the two both are as good as can reasonably be expected.With respect to the important (to many personsthe all-important) subject of the cuisine, the systems differ widely in accordance, of course, withnational usage. Upon the English vessels three


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DARK DAYS IN CHILEsolid meals (breakfast, lunch, and dinner) are provided, whereas their French rivals, condensingbreakfast and lunch into one repast, supply buttwo. People, as a rule, eat a great deal too muchon board ship, where the opportunities for exerciseare so limited, and the temptations to lie down, orsit, so great. And, for this reason, the Frenchplan is probably the better. Again, the Frenchdishes are far daintier and lighter than their English equivalents, and consequently better suited tomost stomachs at sea.

But in one noteworthy particular the Englishregulations show to distinct advantage : separationof the second-class from the first-class passengers.Upon the Portugal both classes had equal accessto the promenade deck, and as we had the misfortune to carry a troup of theatrical artistes, maleand female, bound for Rio de Janeiro, the presenceof certain members of the band, travelling secondclass, was a very distinct nuisance. So intolerable,in fact, did the noisy, and at times indecorous,behaviour of these young women become, that eventhe commissaire s sense of

gallantry gave way.After several ineffectual warnings, he had no alternative but to relegate the most obstreperous fairones to confinement in their cabins ; after whichthere was a marked improvement in the behaviourof those still left at large. The directors of theMessageries Maritimes would do well to rectify thisserious defect in their otherwise excellently con-


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OUTWARD BOUNDducted service. It is at present a very distinctobstacle in the way of securing the patronage ofEnglish travellers who do not believe in liberty,fraternity, equality and least of all on board ship.A few pleasant companions are essential to one sexistence at sea ; and it so chanced that a trio offoreign financiers needed a fourth to make up thatbest of all evening pastimes, whist. Into this littleset I at once dropped, and we contrived to sustaineach other s spirits admirably up to the very endof the voyage.One never-failing source of amusement lay in

-die masher-like propensities of the eldest of thetrio. Monsieur P , a gentleman of considerable means, had brought his confidential valet withhim, and (there being nothing else to do) made it apoint to change his attire at least half-a-dozen timesin the course of the day. How many suits he hadbrought with him was a problem we others attempted in vain to solve. Day after d.ay thechanges went on, and, apparently, the same suitnever did duty twice. To me, who affect flannelsuntil dinner-time in warm latitudes, there wassomething almost fascinating in these chameleon-like mutations. You might be pacing the deckdiscussing the latest phase of the Baring^failurewith Monsieur P , clothed in some rare shadeof gray. An idea would suddenly strike him.You would excuse him for a little moment ? Andin an incredibly short space of time he would


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DARK DAYS IN CHILEreappear clad in immaculate white. Yet if, anhour later, you discerned a blue velveteen coat inthe saloon, you would discover the owner of thatcoat, carefully preparing an absinthe, to be Monsieur P . Of jewellery, also, he had enoughto stock an average shop, and rang in the changeswith equal originality and effect. No vulgarityabout the man. Having an extraordinary tastefor dress, and the means of gratifying it, he clearlyhumoured his fancy for his own satisfaction. Unfortunately, there were no young ladies on board,with the exception of the artistes already referredto, and of these Monsieur P had an utterabhorrence. His only rival was a young Peruvianaristocrat a charming boy enough ; but, in thematter of permutations and combinations, Monsieur P- - was master of the situation. I haveeven seen his youthful competitor wearing thesame striped jacket two days running, rather thando which Monsieur P would, I am persuaded,have retired permanently to his berth.

Early upon the morning of February 8th thePortugal anchored off Lisbon, and, there beingample time, most of us went ashore. But beyondan excellent breakfast at the Braganza Hotel withthe local agent of the Times, the visit to the Portuguese capital scarcely repaid the trouble oflanding.Upon the 12th we reached Dakar, one of the

few French possessions upon the West Coast of


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OUTWARD BOUNDAfrica. It does not impress the visitor as a veryflourishing township, although the harbour is afairly good one and the outlet, as we wereinformed, for a considerable amount of inlandtrade. The market - square presented a livelyenough scene, a perfect babel of uncouth criesproclaiming the excellence of the very uninviting-looking beef and evil-smelling fish offered for saleby the gaudily-attired native women. There are afew stores, nearly all kept by Frenchmen ; somefairly commodious barracks, and a neglected-looking post-office, in telegraphic communicationwith Europe. But by far the most attractivesight is a neatly-planned boulevard, well worthy ofa more imposing settlement. Dakar boasts (orthen boasted) a King/ the most decayed specimenof monarchy I ever saw, with, perhaps, the exception of the Port Moresby sovereign, Boe-Vagi.His Dakar majesty s name I do not remember, norcan I find it amongst my jottings ; but this canscarcely be deemed an irreparable loss to contemporary history. It would seem to be the generalcustom of European Powers, when a slice ofuncivilized territory is annexed, to pension off theheretofore reigning chieftain and allow him toretain the shadow of his former authority ; and itis, at least, a more decent policy than the oldSpanish system of extirpation. The pensionallowed to the titual Roi de Dakar would appearto be inadequate, since a small present of money is


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DARK DA YS IN CHILEgreedily accepted at the close of an audience. Itdoes not seem to be in the fitness of things that anominal monarch, although he be but a deposedsavage, should be reduced to gleefully pouching acouple of francs backsheesh. Our Dakar royaltyhad evidently not long to live, and we understoodthat, upon his death, the King farce would bediscontinued, he being the last of his line. Meanwhile his nominal subjects treat him with a certainamount of rough respect and kindness, making himpresents of fish and vegetables, and occasionallyenlivening the monotony of Court life by creatinga fearful diD, which is the local equivalent for aconcert. The King speaks a few words of French,an accomplishment of which he is justly vain, andhis guttural Merci, monsieur (accompanied byan outstretched palm) would extract largesse fromthe most penurious of visitors.The men are remarkable for length of limb andleanness, in strong contrast to the women, who areextremely obese, short, and, it must be said,abominably ugly which is, doubtless, one reasonwhy garrison life at Dakar is regarded with suchdisfavour in the French service.

The voyage to Rio de Janeiro, which we reachedupon the 21st, was uneventful: a monotonousexistence made tolerable by tobacco, iced drinks,scandal, and an occasional concert wherein ournoisy artistes showed to better advantage. Ourstay at Rio was but brief, and quarantine con-


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OUTWARD BOUNDsiderations forbade our landing. But here ourtheatrical nuisances left us, and, I hope, had a goodtime and full houses, for Rio just then wasbooming.My diary up to the 26th is a complete blank,

and for that date contains the bare entry: Arrivedat Monte Video. Here, however, \ve had ampletime to land, and, as it happened, to stay one nightashore. There is always a certain pleasure in playingcicerone, and, being here thoroughly at home, Iexperienced considerable satisfaction in introducingmy newly-made friends to the prettiest town inSouth America. That, beyond all dispute, MonteVideo emphatically is. Picturesquely situated uponthe northern bank of the huge estuary geographically known as the River Plate (how reconcileone s idea of a river with a width of one hundredand twenty miles ?) ; laid out upon a plan whichadmirably harmonizes the cuadra system of Madridwith the Parisian boulevard ; adorned with memorial statues and fountains which are veritablechefs-d oeuvre ; boasting of streets full of shopswhich, whether in the matter of appearance or ofdearness, are very good seconds to Regent Streetor the Rue de Rivoli ; admirably supplied as tohotel, police, and cab service ; essentially cleanand well drained, and the centre of a flower andfruit province : what more can one reasonably askfor ? Anyhow, we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves,and unanimously voted Monte Video charming.


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io DARK DA YS IN CHILEIt was possible to gain a few hours by tran

shipping to one of the river-boats which ply toand from Buenos Aires. But inasmuch as transhipping one s baggage is a distinct bore and thesaving in time trivial, most of us decided to proceednext day with the Portugal. And in due coursethe big ship ploughed her way across the shallowriver, and we dropped anchor off Buenos Aires.

I had left the Argentine capital but six monthsbefore, soon, indeed, after the short but bloodyrevolution of July. Matters had then been in abad way ; but with the fall of President Celmanit had seemed probable that a change for thebetter would take place. The victorious UnionCivica had set itself, or, perhaps more accurately,had promised to set itself, to the tasks of economyand reform ; and including, as it did, amongst itsleaders men of known ability and integrity, therereally appeared to be grounds for hope. But,alas these sanguine expectations had been basedupon the assumption that the foreign creditorwould be forbearing, and allow the distracted Republic

time to reorganize its chaotic finances ; norhad the nature of the Stock Exchange bearbeen sufficiently taken into account. Of course,so long as money-markets exist, the warfare between bears and bulls will endure, since itmust ever be the object of the speculative buyerof stocks to buy cheap, and that of the speculative holder to sell dear. But, surely, below a


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OUTWARD BOUND ncertain point it is little short of insanity to prolong bearing tactics, lest securities should becomeabsolutely worthless, and the entire game collapsefor want of material to work upon. Yet this iswhat has actually, over and over again, occurred,and stocks, by no means intrinsically valueless,have been beared into an everlasting moratorium.And this is also what occurred with respect toArgentine securities. In vain did the ( bulls,having, upon this occasion at least, common-senseand logic upon their side, endeavour to stem thedownward current ; in vain did some of the leading financial newspapers (and notably the Worldin its money columns) counsel moderation andpatience. The l bears were masters of the situation ; they held the knife at the throat ofArgentine credit, and they slashed away ruthlessly. They scouted the proposals made by thereformed Argentine Administration as mere devicesto put off an inevitable crash ; yet better proposals it was not possible to offer, with any reasonable prospect of fulfilment. Paper-bonds, gold-bonds, cedulas, were proclaimed from the housetops to be mere waste-paper, and a panic-strickenpublic believed the tale. As a natural resultArgentine securities became practically unsaleable,and any further loans an impossibility. The greathouse of Baring, holding these and kindred securities to the extent of a score of millions of poundssterling, found it hopeless to unload in the face of


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1 2 DARK DA YS IN CHILEa closed market, tottered, and would have fallen,with a crash which would have shaken the commercial world, but for the timely intervention ofthe Bank of England and its associates. Now,evidently, were the l bear gospel correct andArgentine securities worthless, no such intervention would have taken place. The mere fact thatit did take place afforded proof positive that, inthe estimation of the highest authorities uponfinance in England, the securities were intrinsicallygood, even though time might be needed to realizeupon them ; which was precisely the argumentadvanced throughout by the World, and a few ofits clearest-headed contemporaries.With these considerations clearly before me, Iwas not surprised to find the general condition ofaffairs in Buenos Aires worse upon the last day ofFebruary (when we landed) than it had been sixmonths before. Trade practically at a standstill ;shops, by the hundred, closed, or plastered withselling-off advertisements ; the streets swarmingwith beggars ; the erstwhile pandemonium -likeBolsa, a mere gossiping resort for seedy-lookingbrokers ; the native banks degenerated into vulgarpawn-offices, and their foreign rivals intent onlyupon raking in outstanding liabilities ; the besthotels deserted, and places of amusement unableto open their doors : all these, and countless other,1

signs of the times spoke but too plainly of widespread insolvency. And when I mentally com-


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OUTWARD BOUND 13pared the Buenos Aires of 1891 with its prototype a few short years ago, my heart saddened towitness the change that had come to pass. Then,nay, but two years ago, the Argentine metropolis was one of the liveliest, gayest, cheeriesttowns in the world. Could this out-at-elbows looking place be the same Buenos Aires which hadformerly eclipsed Paris in the brilliancy of itsnocturnal illuminations? Was this now -closedtheatre the same that had re-echoed to Patti swondrous voice at a profit to the diva of onethousand pounds a night ? And where were thecountless luxurious equipages, horsed by high-stepping English bays or Russian blacks, that usedto throng the route to Palermo Park ? Gone, allgone gone like the money (or the credit) whichprocured them ; gone like the hopes of foreignbondholders, who had supplied the money orgiven the credit ; gone (as I was credibly informed)temporarily to Rio de Janeiro, where a greatboom had arisen, and where, no doubt, a stillgreater crash will, in the fulness of time, eventuate.But, ah me, poor Buenos Aires


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CHAPTER II.ARGENTINA.

An Interview with President Pellegrini The Man with theIron Mask British Preponderance A Good Time I forman Opinion upon the Argentine Situation Go on to ChilePellegrini s Opinion of Balmaceda Sensational TelegramsThe Andes reported infested by Bandits I engage a Fight

ing Secretary And take a Frenchman under my Wing.MINDFUL of the fact that Argentina and its affairslay primarily within the scope of my mission, Iworked hard for the next few days endeavouring toobtain clear ideas as to the actual situation a taskmaterially lightened as \vell by the very nature ofthat mission itself, as by the numerous letters ofintroduction with which I had come provided.Local English opinion was well-nigh unanimous :the country itself was sound and progressiveenough ; all that was needed was time and confidence in the future. This sounded a very old storyto one so long familiar with the country, but itfaithfully reflected local British belief, and wastherefore entitled to some credence. Moreover, thereports from the provinces had been encouraging ;good seasons and abundant harvests seemed to be


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ARGENTINAthe order of the day. But an interval, possibly along interval, must necessarily elapse before metropolitan trade could be expected to revive under thebeneficial effects of these agricultural blessings.And hence Buenos Aires would probably remaincommercially stagnant for some time to come.Upon the whole, this appeared to be a not unreasonable forecast provided always that Governmentcould be relied upon to persevere in the paths ofrectitude. I had many interviews with Ministers,and especially with the Finance Minister, SenorLopez(whose

clever son, Dr. Lucio V. Lopez, appearedto perform most of his father s duties, by the way),and so far as reports, statistics, and apparent candidstatement of facts could carry conviction, thereseemed to be no room for doubt that the exhaustedexchequer was being nursed to the best advantage.Nor can I here omit to acknowledge my indebtedness to the courteous kindness of Mr. H. ChevallierBoutell, manager of the River Plate Trust LoanCompany, who was indefatigable in his efforts to procure for me the best and most reliable information.

I paid my first visit to the President in companywith Senor Lopez, who very judiciously selectedthe four o clock tea leisure-hour for the purpose.(It may be parenthetically noted that afternoon teahas become even more firmly established an institution in South American upper circles than inEngland.) Dr. Pellegrini, a tall, well-built, intellectual-looking man, somewhere about fifty years of


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1 6 DARK DAYS IN CHILEage, received me with great cordiality,introduced meto such of his guests as I did not already know, andproceeded straight to business. He untwisted mevery neatly as to London opinion upon a vastvariety of points, every now and then glancing towards General Roca (then Minister of the Interior),as though for approval or inspiration. The gallantGeneral s face is the most illegible countenance Ihave ever beheld : dead-white in colour, rigid asthough carved in marble a face which affordsabsolutely no clue as to what is passing throughthe brain ; a face such as Napoleon s may havebeen in his most baffling moods. Only at rare intervals did a movement of an eye-lid, or the ghostof a smile upon the firm-set lips, indicate his appreciation of some point scored by his more voluble chief.For physiognomical purposes his features might aswell be hidden altogether, and I mentally dubbedhim l the Man with the Iron Mask/

It speedily became apparent that the proposedpositions were being reversed that the interviewerwas being converted into the interviewed. However,my turn came at last, and I poured my questionsin hot and strong. I am bound to say that I w^asmet very fairly : no evasion, very little hesitation.Without entering into details which have no directbearing upon the subject of this work, I may saythat when I took my leave I was more than eversatisfied that the reins of government had falleninto honest and cautious hands.


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ARGENTINA 17I was curious to hear General Roca speak insomething longer than monosyllables, and, in saying

good-bye, asked him the facts of his attemptedassassination by a boy, a short time previously.The young scamp fired at me through thepanels of my carriage. I jumped out, seized him,thrashed him with my cane, and gave him intocustody. He is either mad or has been laid on tokill me/

Certainly this was the most concise possible narrative of an exploit which for many days had filledwhole columns of the local press.No one could fail to be impressed by the factthat, go where one would, the best-dressed men, andthe frequenters of such fashionable resorts as stillcontrived to keep open, were Englishmen. In fact,but for English patronage, it is doubtful if even asingle first-class restaurant could have kept open :once more emphasizing the bankrupt condition ofthe sons of the country/ for your Argentine lovesfine clothes and the vanities of life. Of course theexplanation was simple enough. The Englishmanis paid his salary in gold, and the worse the financialcrisis, the more paper dollars he gets for thesovereign. The Argentine is paid in paper-money,his salary remaining the same however high thegold-premium may soar. Prices rise, of course,during a crisis, but never so fast or so high as thegold-premium. Consequently,

whereas the unfortunate native finds his margin for menus plaisirs

2


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1 8 DARK DA YS IN CHILEentirely swept away, the Englishman actually gainsby the rise.

And, apart from this, it is clear that the wholeof the industrial enterprises in the country arerapidly passing into English or, at least, intoforeign hands ; to such an extent that, but for theenduring character of the Spanish language, andthe well-established fact that the children of English parentage born in Spanish-speaking countriesare almost invariably passionately fond of theirnative soil, one would feel tempted to predict thatArgentina is destined, sooner or later, to become aBritish possession. Certain it appears to be thatthe Spanish race there is doomed, to be replacedby a new and more energetic race of Argentines, ofwhom the dominant section will be of Anglo-Saxonblood, but of strongly anti-English sympathies.The language will never die out, for the simplereason that no one familiar with the rich, softidiom of Spain would ever willingly exchange itfor the harsh, comparatively coarse idiom ofBritain.My particular inquiries into the actual economic

state of affairs naturally threw me much into thesociety of my fellow-countrymen, and from themI experienced nothing but unlimited kindness andhospitality. With my work thus made easy forme, and so admirably dove-tailed with enjoyment,I should be ungrateful indeed did I not confess tohaving had a really good time during my brief


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ARGENTINA 19stay in Buenos Aires. Given, too, all these exceptional facilities for obtaining the very best information, superadded to an already fairly accurateknowledge of the country, and it is plain that onecan arrive very speedily at definite opinions. Brieflystated, mine formulated themselves thus : Thatthings were in a bad way, and likely so to remainfor some time to come ; that General Mitre would

: shortly arrive, and would be enthusiastically re-j

ceived in Buenos Aires by the dominant UnionjCivica ; that his candidature for the Presidencywould be supported by the existing Government ;that he would in due course be elected unless a

split later on occurred in the Union, in which caseHeaven only and General Roca knew what mighthappen ; that there seemed no prospect of any

1 disturbance in the near future ; and that the bestthing I could do would be to hurry off to Chile.All of which, having been duly cabled to London,brought forth the laconic order, Go on to Chile.This telegram reached me at the very momentwhen I was discussing the Chilian question withan Argentine brother-pressman, who had been bewailing his hard fate in not having been sent ascorrespondent to the scene of strife. I had endeavoured to console him by pointing out thealleged dangers of the expedition ; but such dangersbeing to him, as I gleaned, the very salt of existence, I had duly sympathized with him in hisdisappointment.


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20 DARK DA YS IN CHILENow, it should be stated that there were at thistime, at the Darsena del Sur, two small warships

which had excited great interest. They were ofthe class known to British naval men as torpedo-catchers, were named respectively the AlmiranteLynch and the Almirante Condell, and were aboutto proceed to Valparaiso, the naval stronghold ofthe world-famed tyrant and dictator Balmaceda.It was, moreover, reported that several of thewarships which had espoused the side of Congresswere lying in wait for them at the mouth ofMagellan Straits, with the amiable intention ofthere blowing them out of the water. But theChilian commanders had openly ridiculed any suchpossibility : if attacked by any single ironclad, theirvessels were heavily-armed and carried (betweenthem) ten torpedo-tubes ; if by a squadron, thenthey could show a very clean pair of 18-knotheels, and laugh at pursuit. To my mind it washighly improbable that the revolted fleet shouldallow two such dangerous craft to pass throughthe straits without some effort to sink them, and Iwas naturally anxious to witness that rarest of allspectacles nowadays, a naval engagement. So Iconsulted some of my friends as to the possibilityof proceeding to Valparaiso on board one of thetorpedo-catchers. Never was proposition worsereceived. Go ? Of course I could go : theywould be but too glad to have the correspondentof the Times on board. But had I considered


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ARGENTINA 21that by so doing I should be identifying myself,so to speak, with the cause of the tyrant ? No ;this view of the matter had certainly not presented itself to me. It seemed hard lines to misswhat promised to be a very novel and interestingscrimmage, merely because people might accuseme of sympathizing with a man whom I knewonly, by report, as a savage, and whose portrait Ihad never even seen. It seemed still harder linesto have to bump across the Andes on mule-backwhen there was a chance of a sea-passage on boardan 18-knot boat. But my friends verdict was sounanimous that I regretfully gave up the idea.

1 Go, from a great journal to its special correspondent, means Go at once ; and that I lost no timein obeying my orders is proved by the fact that,although the telegram only reached me upon theevening of March 5th, I was en route withineighteen hours by the first transcontinental train,in fact. Late at night I betook me to the premisesof the leading journals to obtain a few presswrinkles as to the journey, telegraphing, and otherdetails, and also, naturally, to hear the latest newsfrom the disordered country I was about to visit.It appeared that I could get as far as Puente delInca (upon the Argentine side of the Cordillera)easily enough ; that thence I might, if I chose torisk it, get across into Chilian territory ; but thatBalmaceda had closed all telegraphic communication between Chili and the Argentine. The Buenos


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ARGENTINA 23if anything, rather a worse source of informationthan Puente del Inca.) And what wondrousmessages must have inundated Europe from thesetwo telegram factories for many months I myself was taken in by one but by one onlywhich bore every appearance of being official andgenuine, and which I repeated to London. Oneof Balmaceda s crack regiments (the 5th of theLine, I think it was) was reported to havemutinied, murdered its officers, and gone overen masse to the insurgents. Yet, before I hadwell reached Chile, this very regiment had beencut to pieces at Pazo Almonte by the rebels Wonderful, truly, are the ways of press telegraphagencies Parisian journalists adopted a systemequally reliable, and far less expensive ; they simplyand persistently invented their Chilian news intheir printing-offices.As one result of a rather restless night ofbroken sleep, during which, I remember, stumblingmules, precipices, and lurking brigands figured extensively, I paid an early visit to my literaryfriend who had been so grievously disappointed inhis hopes of visiting Chile. I had decided upontaking him with me in the capacity of fightingsecretary, special despatch-bearer in emergencies,or for any similar jobs to his taste that might turnup. I found him at home, and gradually (in orderto enjoy, to the full, his anticipated rapture) mademy proposal. I was not disappointed ; he was


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24 DARK DAYS IN CHILEdelighted with the idea so far as I had gone.Go with me ? Of course he would. A journeyacross the famous Cordillera ? The one thing helonged for. Such an opportunity might neveroccur again. And Senor Guillermo incontinentlyproceeded to overhaul his wardrobe, and to makeselections therefrom. I watched him in silencefor some minutes, and then the thought uppermostin my mind found tongue.

Tell me, amigo mio, how are you off for firearms ? I suppose you have a regular assortmentfor handy use ?1 Firearms replied Senor Guillermo. I don tthink that at present I have any. I had a littleAmerican revolver, but someone stole it out ofmy pocket. It didn t much matter, because itwouldn t go off

I fairly gasped. A fighting secretary who, atsome bygone period, had possessed a little revolver,an American revolver, and who knew so littleabout firearms as to be guilty of the ludicroustautology of adding that it wouldn t go off Didthe man suppose that the Yankee toys exported toBuenos Aires ever went off? It was staggering.But, worst of all, he had allowed some personunknown to abstract this harmless but, withal,intimidating weapon from his pocket One swatch or one s purse, yes cela pent arriver desfois. But one s revolver in South America


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ARGENTINA 25The thing was past belief. Yet, stay ; an ideastruck me.

Never mind/ I said, you can stick to thenational cucliillo, and I ll look after the artillery.

Senor Guillermo held up a pair of trousers tothe

light (doubtlesswith a view to

calculatinghow

many hours mule-riding they might reasonably beexpected to stand), and answered very solemnly :

Senor Corresponsal, I never use a knife exceptat meal-times.

This was too much. He spoke in much thesame tone as a dyspeptic uses when, bidden topartake of a sherry and bitters, he informs youthat he never touches anything between meals.

1 You see, proceeded my new secretary, extending his critical inspection to sundry other garments,1 before I turned my attention to the Press, I wasa professor of philosophy, and, long ago, decidedthat fighting is utterly inconsistent with the teachings of that admirable science. Moreover, it isevident that an unarmed man is really in lessdanger of being forced into a quarrel than hewho carries weapons, a fact which, I am givento understand, is thoroughly recognised in yourown enlightened country. And, lastly, to attemptarmed resistance to a gang of bandits (should anysuch present themselves, which I think most unlikely) would be sheer folly.

It was hard to take all this in at once, and


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26 DARK DA YS IN CHILEespecially hard to have discredit thrown uponone s bandits.

Why, I asked, do you doubt the existence ofthese gentry, in the face of your own correspondent s telegram ?

Simply, answered Senor Guillermo, because Iknow Pedro, who sent it, very well. He is a manwho rightly esteems his personal comfort above allthings. He has often complained in his letters ofthe overcrowded condition of the small posada atPuente del Inca, whereby prices are enhanced andaccommodation curtailed. The obvious and onlyremedy must be to deter any more intendingtravellers, by means of a judicious scare ; and whatso likely to do this as a well -flavoured banditreport ?Your friend Pedro is a man fertile of resource,I assented, if not of unimpeachable veracity. Itrust we shall find the posada depleted upon ourarrival. Hasta lueyo f And I left my philosopher-secretary contentedly equipping himself for thejourney.

Upon returning to the Grand Hotel, I wasapologetically asked by the proprietor if it wouldseriously inconvenience me to allow a Frenchgentleman of his acquaintance to travel with meto Chile. Naturally, I requested an introductionto my proposed fellow-traveller, and, finding himin every way eligible, at once consented. Severalother intending travellers interviewed me with the


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ARGENTINA 27same object, but turned out to be unprepared tostart at such short notice. I should, otherwise,have had to captain a small caravan.Few as were my remaining hours, my Englishfriends found time to rally round me for a sumptuous farewell lunch at the Strangers Club. Rightroyally they entertained me. And true though it bethat Scheiden thut Well, when the Scheiden takesplace under such cheering influences, the sting whollydisappears. Then as many farewell visits as I couldcrowd into the remaining interval. From our Resident Minister, the Hon. F. Pakenham, whom Ifound vigorously engaged at lawn-tennis at Palermo,I received many valuable hints about Chile, towhich he had been previously accredited ; but heconfessed his inability to enlighten me upon thepolitical merits of the Revolution. My last visitwas paid to the President, with whom, as before,I found General Roca. His Excellency waspolitely sorry that I was so soon leaving BuenosAires, but added that, of course, from a journalisticpoint of view, Chile was at that moment a moreinteresting field for operations.Has your Excellency formed any opinion as to themerits of the quarrel between President Balmacedaand Congress ? I ventured to inquire.

No/ replied Dr. Pellegrini ; I am not sufficiently well posted in Chilian affairs to enable meto arrive at any very definite conclusions. ButPresident Balmaceda personally I know very well


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28 DARK DA YS IN CHILEindeed; we are old friends; and whether he be rightor wrong in the attitude he has taken up, I haveno hesitation in saying that he is one of the mostfinished gentlemen I ever met. Ask General Roca;he knows more about the matter than I do.

But the Man with the Iron Mask was veryguarded in his brief utterances, as, indeed, healways is. In his judgment, President Balmacedahad no sympathy with the attempts made toincrease the powers of Congress at the expense ofthose of the Executive, and would resist theseattempts to the bitter end. Possibly he believedthat a ruler, aided by ministers of his own selection,was better able to govern than a roomful of wrangling deputies. But, concluded the General, thatBalmaceda ever had any intention of supplantingexisting Republican institutions by an army-supported dictatorship I do not think probable. Heis not the man for a coup d etat?*With many kindly expressions of goodwill fromthe President and his Prime Minister, I hurriedoff to the railway-station, barely in time to catchthe train. Mr. Christopher Hill, the courteous

* I cannot recall the exact impressions left on my mindwhich induced me to enter the following remarks in my diaryunder the date of this interview :March 5th, Memo. If ever a South American communityshould grow weary of the so-called Eepublican political jumble,which has invariably proved so total a failure south of theequator, and should revert to the One-man-rule system, thatcommunity will be Argentina,, and the One Man General Koca.Perhaps the Napoleon-like face and manner of the man inspired the thought more than his words.


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ARGENTINA 29manager of the Buenos Aires and Pacific lines, hadmade all things comfortable for me and my twocompanions, and good-naturedly accompanied us ashort distance. We were fairly en route for theAndes.


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CHAPTER III.CROSSING THE ANDES.

A Long Bail Journey Travelling en Prince Mendoza A Liftto Uspallata Fifty Miles on a Cow-catcher SceneryUspallata A Lost Child on my Hands Roughing It AFacetious Muleteer A Dry Stage An Independent YankeeEio Blanco Las Vacas A Goatherd-subscriber to theTimes Montes Corrales Monte de Los Penitentes A MuleEace * Corresponsal wins Valle de la Tolorzia Cajou delEio de Las Cuevas Puente del Inca A Posada A Nightin a Menagerie The Juncal Volcano The Summit of theCordillera A Slippery Descent Lake Portillo A primitive Hostelry The Soldier s Leap The Meeting of theWaters Juncal A Wild Drive Santa Eosa de Los Andes.

FORTY consecutive hours in a third-class railway-carriage would, it may be supposed, be a test ofendurance and of epidermis which few persons wouldbe able to undergo ; but forty hours in a suite ofluxurious Pullman cars glide by smoothly enough.Monotonous, of course ; nothing to see from the carwindows on either side but the flat grassy pampasuntil quite towards the end of the journey. Howone longs, after a time, for the sight of even a hillock to vary the dead-level of those interminableplains An isolated farm-house, usually as primitivein appearance as mud walls can make it, becomes an


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CROSSING THE ANDES 31object of interest, and a herd of cattle excites theliveliest satisfaction ; but even monotony is not\vithout charm, provided it does not last too long.And certainly one who has endured a three weekscalm upon the Line, on board a sailing ship, islittle likely to suffer from want of scenery on thePampas. The service and the accommodationleave little to be desired upon this railway, and thecuisine is very tolerable. Mr. Hill, the generalmanager of the line, had considerately provided mewith a four-berthed dormitory to myself, which wasconvertible, by the dexterous hands of an attendant,Into a snug sitting-room, during the day. The onlyserious inconvenience was the dust, which, despiteall precautions, found its way inside in largequantities.My secretary was in high spirits, finding matterfor admiration even in our desolate surroundings.Where, he would ask, will you find a country

so level, and of such vast extent ? For hundredsof kilometres not a hillock and not a stone. Besides,observe how well we are treated Travelling witha " corresponsal " is, I see, synonymous with travelling en prince

Ah, Guillermo, said I, wait until we get outside those mules. They will respect neither the" corresponsal " nor his secretary. Which foreboding proved, indeed, true enough.We reached Villa Mercedes at 2.30 p.m. nextday, whence, after an hour s halt to stretch our


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32 DARK DA YS IN CHILElegs, we started for Mendoza, where we arrived atseven o clock next morning.Here it became necessary to engage an arriero(muleteer-guide), a boy, and twelve mules to transport ourselves and our baggage across the Andes.And here there befell us a piece of luck whichsaved us nearly sixty miles of mule-riding, inorder to understand which, a few words must besaid about one of the greatest railway engineeringenterprises of even these go-ahead days. Thosereaders who may be interested in such matterswill find full details in an Appendix.^At the foot of the great range of the Andes,which separates Argentina from Chile, upon theArgentine side, lies the town of Mendoza. Similarly at the foot of the same range, upon theChilian side, lies the town of Santa Rosa de LosAndes, or, as it is generally termed, more simply,Los Andes. And this range is one of the mostimpassable in the world. The distance to betraversed, following the only possible track formule or man, and well-nigh the whole of whichhas been cut out of the solid rock, is a little over150 miles, the highest peak crossed being some13,000 feet above sea-level. The mule -track,narrow and often dangerous as it is, was deemeda triumph of engineering skill, and the route vidthe Uspallata Pass has long been famous.

Then there arose a clamour for telegraphic com-* See Appendix A : The Transandine Railway.


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PUENTK DEL INCA, ON THE ROUTE OF THE TKANSANDINB RAILWAY.


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CROSSING THE ANDES 35munication between the two towns, so as to bringSantiago and Valparaiso in direct contact withBuenos Aires. Two Chilian gentlemen of Englishdescent, Messrs. Juan and Mateo Clark, undertookarid successfully carried through this enterprise.And then, having taken careful stock of theOengineering difficulties to be overcome, they staggered the scientific world by boldly proclaimingthe possibility of driving the iron horse over theCordillera At first the idea was received withridicule ; but Messrs. Clark stuck to their guns,converted both the Argentine and the ChilianGovernments to their views, obtained the necessary concessions, and the still more necessarycapital, and boldly went to work upon their trulycolossal scheme.

Now, when we arrived at Mendoza, uponMarch 8, the iron road had just been completed as far as Uspallata, and it was thereforepossible for ourselves and our mules to proceedthus far (about fifty-five miles) upon our mountainjourney by train. Mr. N" , Messrs. Clark sagent at Mendoza, courteously placed a specialcarriage at our disposal, himself accompanying us,together with several young English engineers.It was arranged that the mules should follow bya special train reserved for the conveyance of troopstowards the frontier.

At Blanco Encalada, the first stopping-place,some twelve miles up the line, I discovered four


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36 DARK DA YS IN CHILEof the engineers perched upon the cow-catcher ofthe locomotive, there being just room for thisnumber.Now then, sir/ cried one, if you want to getfresh air, and a good view of the Cordillera, takemy place here. But keep your head cool goinground the curves and through the tunnels.

I surveyed the narrow ledge upon which I wasinvited to balance myself, tested it, and, findingthat the protruding bars of the cow-catcher affordedsome purchase for the heels, accepted the offerwith a great show of alacrity, but with considerable inward misgivings. My secretary tried hardto dissuade me, but to no purpose. A shriek fromthe engine, and we were off.

Oh, the wild delight of that glorious ride The sun shining brightly overhead ; the exhilarating sensation of rushing through the clear, crispair ; the distant panorama of the snow-clad Cordillera towering above mountains of well-nigh everyimaginable hue ; the spice of danger thrown in toadd, as it were, zest to the whole sublime scene For the first few miles, it is true, the initial senseof insecurity predominated. I was too busilyengaged in holding on (or perhaps I should saysitting on, since there was nothing to hold on

by), in staring at the stony track along which wewere speeding, and in imagining what would happenif some huge boulder should have rolled upon theline, to bestow much attention upon Nature s


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CROSSING THE ANDES 37masterpieces of scenic effect. The first bridgewhich we crossed, about 200 yards in length,fairly made nie start : there, deep, deep below usrushed the river Mendoza, into whose icy watersit would be so easy to fall did but one s heels slip.Involuntarily I leaned well back, but coming, bythis movement, into uncomfortable contact withthe front portion of the furnace, I, as involuntarily,jerked myself forward again.

Sit still, sir/ said my right-hand neighbourwarningly ; it s not safe to throw yourself abouton this perch until you re a bit used to it.This entirely coincided with my own conviction ;but, in truth, after that first bridge my nervousness entirely disappeared. At our next halting-place, Cacheuta, Seiior Guillermo rushed forwardto ascertain at what particular spot I had realizedhis prediction, and fallen off. He embraced me asone returned from a forlorn hope he even hinted ataccompanying me upon the next stage ; but whetherit was that my engineer friends drew a line between a correspondent and his secretary, or thatthey feared two new chums would jostle oneanother off, or that no one cared to resign his seat,certain it is that one of them told an anecdotewhich effectually choked off Senor Guillermo,and very nearly drove me back to the railway-car.Guillermo had remarked that, after all, there didnot appear to be much danger of falling off.Falling off exclaimed the engineer ; not


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38 DARK DA YS IN CHILEmuch fear of that, because a fellow can see plainlyenough what would become of him if he did, andsticks tight. But other accidents may happen.For instance, a few days ago a tourist rode withus on the cow-catcher, just as the correspondent hasbeen doing. But he had quite enough of it afterone stage ; and the speaker laughed as at somehumorous recollection.

* How was that ? I asked. I could ride thereall day, travelling through such scenery.How? Well, I ll tell you/ was the reply.1 In the first place, he was a particularly nervoussort of fellow, clutching at one or other of usevery other minute ; and, secondly, he charged acow

Charged a cow cried Guillermo ; what onearth did he do that for ?

Just because he couldn t help it. You see,cows have a habit of straying on to the track, andare very stupid and slow in getting out of the wayof a train. Sometimes, indeed, they get into acutting, or upon a narrow ledge, and cant savethemselves ; and sometimes they are overtakenround one of the sharp curves. We fellowsalways keep a sharp look-out for the brutes, and ifwe see that it s going to be a case of " fresh beef,"we skip round to the side-ledge of the engine, andhold on by the boiler-rail until the job is over.Upon the occasion I m speaking of, just as wewere turning a corner, we came right upon a tubby


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CROSSING THE ANDES 39old cow. There was barely a second to think andact, and my churn and I used it to the best advantage, leaving the stranger to Providence. We gotone glimpse of his huddled-up figure . . . therewas a thud . . . and in another instant the frontpart of the engine was in a fearful mess. Ourman looked as though he had been rolled througha slaughter-house. Goodness knows how he contrived to hang on, but he did somehow. Ofcourse, the engine at once slowed down, and wegot him off to the guard s van, where he was veryglad to change his clothes in favour of a suit ofblankets. I don t think that chappie will everagain ride on a cow-catcher/

I registered a mental vow that if / did it shouldnot be in the middle seat. In medio tutissimus ibixevidently did not hold good of this sort of travelling.

Time was allowed us at Cacheuta to see thelocally-famous baths of La Boca del Rio. Theseare thermal springs of high temperature, which,oddly enough, rise within a few feet of the riverMendoza ; which latter, being fed by melted snow,is always icy cold. These baths are accreditedwith wonderful medicinal properties, and it seemsbeyond doubt that they are of great value in casesof nervous and rheumatic disorders.My request for a side -seat having been acceded

to, with the proviso that, if we should run foul ofa cow, I was to look smart, and give the middlei>


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40 DARK DA YS IN CHILEman a chance/ we started once more upon ourwinding, upward course. And winding enough, inall conscience, this course is. At a place calledLa Media Luna (the Half-Moon), the curve isa perfect semicircle, flanked by a precipitous descent, which makes the novice hold his breath.Then a new experience a tunnel. The sensationof shooting a tunnel, perched upon a cow-catcher,is like nothing else that I ever felt. One seemsto have for ever taken leave of the glorious sunlight, and to be pushed, as it were, through thevery bowels of the earth, by the panting monsterbehind one. The din and the darkness so add tothe weirdness of the effect that one instinctivelyfeels for one s neighbour s arm, in order to be intouch with a fellow-mortal. Upon emerging oncemore into daylight, the scene appeared granderthan ever so grand, so sublime, that no feebleword-painting of mine can reproduce it, even inoutline. The snow-mantled Cordillera in the background appeared still more stupendous the nearerwe approached ; the underlying mountains stillbrighter in hue, with every conceivable shade ofcolour represented green, purple, orange, black,red, and thousands of nuances for which there areno verbal equivalents ; the bridges (of which wecrossed eight) seemed longer and higher, and theriver below swifter and more boisterous ; thetunnels (five in number), if possible, gloomier andmore awe-inspiring. Upon one side towered a


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CROSSING THE ANDES 41sheer wall of rock, which one could have touchedwith the outstretched hand, and upon the otherlay a precipitous descent of many hundreds of feet ;the track hung upon a mere ledge of rock wideenough for the narrow-gauge line and no more.Then came cuttings so deep and narrow as tosuggest the idea of tunnels with the roofs cut off;and occasionally, when a light cloud passed acrossthe face of the sun, one could drink in and steepone s soul in the exquisite gradations of hue thatswept across the many-coloured hills My companions had been over the ground sooften that for them these localities had lost the

charm of novelty ; but they thoroughly enjoyedmy enthusiastic admiration of all that I saw, asgood-natured fellows always do, when they see thattheir efforts to give pleasure are crowned withsuccess. And they actually produced beer (noneof your Argentine she-oak/ but the genuine red-triangle Bass s pale ale, dear to the heart of all trueBritons), and we drank the health of our Queen,and of the Times, and of Messrs. Clark, and of ournoble selves, until of that delicious beer thereremained not one drop. Fortunately, the cowsgave us a wide berth, and in the fulness of timewe reached Uspallata without other mishap thanthe loss of a hat (luckily not mine). The line wentno further,* and here we had to stay overnight,

* It has since been pushed on to Eio Blanco, twenty-milesfurther.


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42 DARK DA YS 2N CHILEawaiting the arrival of the niules. After lunchour kind friends bade us farewell, and started uponthe return journey to Mendoza. Before doing so,however, Mr. N informed me that a Frenchlad, some sixteen years of age, had been waitinghere some days for an opportunity to join someparty proceeding to Chile. Would I take chargeof him ? The boy himself asked me so prettily toallow him to accompany me, that I had not theheart to refuse ; but scarcely was the train out ofsight when I discovered that my protege had noclothes but those he stood in, no mules, and butvery little money. Evidently I should have tosupply him with these necessary adjuncts to travel,and until I heard his story I felt annoyed athaving too easily given my consent. Then Irelented ; the more so as I at once saw that hiswas one of those hypersensitive, shy natures thatmust fasten on to some stronger will than theirown, or come to hopeless grief. I had even somedoubts as to his perfect sanity, doubts by no meansshared by Senor Guillermo, who assured me thatmy lost child was clearly as mad as a hatter.Briefly his story was this : His parents, well-to-doBelgian bourgeois, had sanctioned his making avoyage to Buenos Aires, for his health, in anEnglish ship, and under the care of the captain.Arrived at his destination, having a month to waitfor the return voyage and 20,000 francs to hiscredit, he took it into his head to see something


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CROSSING THE ANDES 43of Argentina, packed up a portmanteau, drew somemoney, and started off inland, finally reaching"Mendoza. Here a wild desire seized him to crossthe Andes and have a peep at Chile, and this hefurthermore contemplated doing on foot ; so leavinghis portmanteau in Mendoza, he took train toUspallata. Here his pedestrian plan had beenfrightened out of him, and he had stuck afraid togo forward, yet utterly unwilling to go back. Ithoroughly believed the lad s story, and I mayadd that I have since verified it in every detail.I tried hard to persuade him to return, butthis he tearfully but resolutely refused to do. Hewould follow me on foot, if need be ; but followme he would. Finally, I agreed to take himas far as Puente del Inca, where he was toawait the return of my muleteer from Chile ;and to this arrangement he temporarily consented.

There is not any regular posada at Uspallata,though there is a canteen at the station and afairly good general store where a few travellers canget a shakedown at a pinch. For us the boy incharge of this latter place made special efforts,evidently realizing that the credit of the townshipwas at stake. Upon returning from a refreshingbut intensely cold plunge into an adjacent lagoon,it was evident, from the bustle going on, thatpreparations upon an unwonted scale were in fullswing. My lost child (whose name, by the way,


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44 DARK DA YS IN CHILEwas Robert) whispered me that in all his three daysexperience he had seen nothing at all like it. Atintervals there had reached his ears shrill screamsas of fowls in their death agony, and he wasalmost certain that he had recognised the squeals ofa youthful porker in extremis. But, most wonderfulof all, he had seen a peon laying a table-cloth Robert s powers of observation had not misledhim. When we, later on, sat down to dine, thetable-cloth was there, and we were regaled withchicken soup, roast fowl, and sucking pig, thewhole washed down by some very fair Mendozawine. I had been warned that our experiences ofroughing it would commence at Uspallata, butmethought I could rough it upon this scale for alengthy period. To sleep upon, there werestretchers resembling elongated camp-stools, whilstthe stock-in-trade furnished a liberal supply ofblankets. The couch reserved for me was evenadorned with what I took to be a sheet, but whichRobert at once recognised as that crowning luxury

the table-cloth.Next morning we were aroused betimes by our

muleteer, who pressed us to lose no time in makinga start. To him I confided my wish to take.Robert with me if possible. Certainly, he couldride one of the spare mules if a saddle could beprocured. But, as regarded the senor s baggagethis, I informed him, need not weigh upon hismind, inasmuch as the young gentleman had


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CROSSING THE ANDES 45brought none. Whereupon the muleteer scratchedhis head and remarked :

Of course the senor knows best. But it wouldbe very bad for our business if everyone travelledwith one shirt/And Jose proceeded to load up his mules, whilstwe breakfasted upon the debris of the last night s

banquet the protean table-cloth, which had reappeared upon the board, being removed by generalrequest.*1 The reckoning paid, a stirrup-cup partaken of, a saddle borrowed for Robert, and wewere ready for the road.

Does your excellency ride well ? queried ourguide, who had a true Spanish habit of conferringbrevet-rank upon his patrons.

Moderately well, I replied cautiously, myAustralian and other experiences having, long ago,taught me the unwisdom of vaunting one s horsemanship in a foreign land.

i Ah I thought so, senor ; most Englishcaballeros can ride. That is why I have picked outEl Ministro there to carry you, indicating a gauntanimal of exceptional stature for a mule. He sthe best macho I ve got, and used to be one of thequietest. But ever since he carried Senor Godoy,

* The reader will doubtless remember the analogous experiences of a guest at a French country auberge, who wasaroused at an early hour, with a request that he would at onceget up. Why should I get up ? Because, replied thega^on, I want to lay the table for breakfast, and monsieuris sleeping upon the table-cloth. 1


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46 DARK DA YS IN CHILEthe Chilian Minister for Londres (that s why he scalled El Ministro), he has become proud, and playstricks occasionally. I dare say he will go quietlyenough with your excellency, but be careful of hisheels just at first when you mount him/

This last piece of advice proved not uncalled for.No sooner did El Ministro feel my foot in thestirrup than he lashed out savagely, to the accompaniment of a succession of shrill squeals. However, at the second attempt I got safely into thesaddle, and, having no intention of risking my neckupon the brute if I could not master him, plungedmy spurs into his lean ribs. A battle royal ensued,to the great delight of the onlookers ; but in theend El Ministro gave in, nor did he ever afterwardsgive me any trouble.

Quite an imposing cavalcade did our partypresent as we passed by the station en route forRio Blanco, distant some twenty odd Englishmiles. At the head rode the muleteer s boy upona small gray mare, to whose headstall was fixed aloud-sounding and not unmusical bell, the mulesbeing trained to follow a bell-mare just as sheepfollow a bell-wether. Then came the four membersof my party in no particular order, behind us thebaggage - mules, the spare mules, driven by thearriero, bringing up the rear. Hampered as wewere by the baggage, our pace was necessarilyslow ; indeed, it took us seven hours, without ahalt, to accomplish the twenty miles.


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CROSSING THE ANDES 47For a couple of hours our way lay through a

wide plateau, and then we entered a ravine,hemmed in by towering alps of awful grandeur,which endured to the end of the stage. The daywas exceptionally warm, and towards noon one sideas began to take the form of liquid refreshments.I. therefore proposed a brief halt for this purpose.But then came the trouble. No such refreshmentswere to be found. I had several times enjoined onmy secretary to be especially careful upon thispoint ; in fact, to consider it pro tern, as his onlyduty. I had myself purchased the necessary fluids.It now appeared that in the excitement of departure they had been left behind. Then I waxedwroth, and I said unkind things of my secretaryand of philosophers generally ; and wrath begatworse thirst, and I was fain to ask the arriero toprocure me even a drink of water.

Impossible, seiior, replied Jose, until we reachthe posada at Rio Blanco,

But, my good man, I remonstrated, we aretravelling parallel with the river.

1

Si, senor, but we can t get down to it.This was but too true. There was the icy-cold,foaming current rushing along a hundred feetbelow ; but the descent was sheer.

I am especially sensitive to thirst, and, I believe,suffered more than the others. But it chancedthat a dog a rather well-bred collie had followedus, and in noting its distress I well-nigh forgot my


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48 DARK DA YS IN CHILEown. Poor brute how it scoured the ground fora stray puddle, where none existed How, everand anon, it rushed to the precipitous bank andgazed, with hanging tongue, at the foaming torrentbelow, as though minded to make one spring anddie in water At last, at a spot where the ravinewidened considerably, I perceived a white speck,half a mile away, which I at once knew to be atent. With a vicious plunge of the spurs, Theaded my mule towards the welcome object, mycompanions pursuing the even tenor of their way,but the collie sticking close to El Ministros heels.It is surprising how fast a mule can gallop, for ashort distance, over rough ground. In a couple ofminutes I had reached the tent. No one there ;the owner, doubtless a railway-navvy, was away atwork. But there was a cask of water and a pannikin, and I filled a tin wash-basin for the dog.My wants were soon satisfied, and, oh, how delicious that water was I left a dollar in thepannikin to express my thanks, and the collie,having drunk its fill, looked up into my face withits great brown, loving eyes to express its thanks,and away we scampered, helter-skelter, to rejointhe cavalcade. I told my companions of my discovery, but they were too lazy or not thirstyenough to profit by it.Some miles further on we observed a man skulking about in most mysterious fashion close to theriver-bank. Presently he noticed us, and waved


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CROSSING THE ANDES 49his arms as though he desired to speak with us, atthe same time staggering in our direction ; whereupon we rode towards him. A queer- lookingobject He turned out to be an Americanmechanic, on his way to Chile on foot. He washalf dead with thirst, and had been trying to spyout a track down to the river. Could we givehim some water ? I explained our own situation,and offered him a lift, upon a spare mule, to theposada, then about six miles distant. But this he,not very politely, declined. He did not want mymule He wanted water, and if I had none,why, there was an end of it. Perhaps he couldafford a mule as well as I could, or better. If hepreferred to walk, what business was that of mine?So I left him, for an ill-conditioned, cantankerousbrute, to leave his bones upon the river-bank, if theFates so willed it. But he did not. He turnedup at the posada some hours after us.At Rio Blanco (so called from the milk-whitecolour of the water which here comes rushing downfrom the mountains) we stayed overnight. Theaccommodation, although rougher than at Uspal-lata, was yet tolerable ; and I remember that certain bottles of lager-bier, cooled in the river, wereespecially good.Next day (March 10th), having a journey offorty-six miles to accomplish before nightfall, ourarriero insisted on a very early start. Whilst hewas saddling and packing the mules, Jose incidentally

4


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50 DARK DA YS IN CHILEmentioned that he had driven the animals severalmiles the evening before, to the nearest browsingground, had slept amongst them, under the stars,rolled up in his poncho, and had but just broughtthem back. A pretty hard life, that of the Andinemuleteer.

And, senor, said Jose, with a grin, I have re-christened El Ministro. He will now be known asEl Corresponsal.

I suppose, I answered, if he should evercarry Balmaceda across the range, he will becomeEl Prcsidente f1 Quien sabe, senor ? More unlikely things havecome to pass. But take my advice, and don t talkabout Balmaceda like that when you get into ChileMacho oo ay Macho / And we slowlystarted upon our way.We reached a sort of farmhouse posada atPunta de Las Vacas at about mid-day, and herewe fell into most hospitable hands. - The place

appeared to be kept by three young fellows,evidently fairly well off, to judge by the numberof cows, horses, mules, goats, pigs, fowls, and dogs(of which last there must have been at least fifty),which we saw. One of the proprietors, who, asI understood, was specially interested in goat-breeding, at once explained the reason of the unwonted efforts made on our behalf.He had, by dint of study and with occasionalhelp from stray Englishmen, learnt enough English


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CROSSING THE ANDES 51to understand the written language fairly well, andderived most of his knowledge of contemporaryhistory from the Times weekly edition, to whichhe was a subscriber. Hence he esteemed it a highhonour to entertain a corresponsal of the grandiario. And when the arriero began to grumbleat the delay in preparing lunch, he bade him begonewith his baggage-mules, for that he would himselfconduct the Senor Gorresponsal s party to LasCuevas later on. By this arrangement, we hadample time to do justice to the abundant fare setbefore us, and for an hour s rest afterwards. Thecollie was recognised as the property of an Englishengineer ; and though the animal tried to followus, it was speedily lassoed and chained up. Ourhost s chums started with us, to see us a part ofthe way, but eventually accompanied us the wholedistance.

Unhampered by the baggage-mules, we were ableto cover the ground at a good pace, whilst ourguides enlivened the journey by pointing out themost interesting freaks of Nature, which hereabound.

To the right arose dark jagged masses of hornblende and schist, the smoother lower portions ofwhich, seamed and scored, gave ample evidence ofglacial action. These are known as the MontesConales.

Further on, upon the other side, stood the mostextraordinary rock formation I ever beheld. Upon


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52 DARK DA YS IN CHILEthe slope of a distant hill was an almost perfectcounterpart of a huge monastery, whilst lower downcertain other groups of rock exactly representedprocessions of pilgrims ascending the hill. Thename Monte de Los Penitentes very happily describes the impression produced upon the beholder;yet, we were assured, upon near approach the illusionentirely disappears. Truly

Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,though I never before so fully realized the truth ofCampbell s well-known line.We wasted so much time admiring Los Penitentes that it was deemed necessary to quicken ourpace ; and, all being in excellent spirits, a race to aboulder about a mile distant was proposed andagreed to. We were here in a wide valley, and thegoing fairly good, so we got into line. I fired myrevolver as a signal, and away we went. It soonbecame evident that our guides mules were fresherand better than ours, with the one possible exception of my tall moke, now christened El Corre-sponsal) and even he was sadly outpaced for half thedistance. Now, I had noticed that he had startedunder me when I fired, and it occurred to me thatif I fired again, behind him, his mulish brain mightbe startled into further efforts. The idea was aninspiration. Hearing the report, apparently in theimmediate vicinity of his hind-quarters, the brutefairly bounded along, and passed the rearmost? of


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CROSSING THE ANDES 53my three rivals. It cost two more explosions toget him past the next man. And now there remained but the leader, some ten lengths ahead, withabout a hundred and fifty yards yet to be covered.1 noted with satisfaction that he was spurring mercilessly to maintain his lead. Then, when fiftyyards from the goal, I fired my last two remainingshots in rapid succession. In a frenzy of frightCorresponsal plunged forward, swept past the leaderlike a whirlwind, and won by half a dozen lengths,about the same distance separating second andthird. As for the others, they were working theirpassages at intervals, Robert (whose saddle, itafterwards appeared, had turned round early in therace) whipping in. There was a general laughwhen I explained my novel method of stimulatinga mule, which was redoubled when, upon my ownconfession, I disqualified Corresponsal, and awardedthe race to the second animal.

Our rapid progress was delayed in the Valle dela Tolorzia, owing to the very uneven nature of theground. Here the strata seen are twisted and contorted in every conceivable direction, as thoughNature had given them birth during an extraviolent convulsion. Here, too, as at MontesConales, the evidences of ice action are plainlyvisible.

Late in the afternoon we overtook the baggage-mules at Puente del Inca, a marvellous naturalbridge, over which the railway will later on pass.


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54 DARK DA YS IN CHILEBeneath this bridge are grottos, adorned with innumerable stalactites, and containing thermal springs,which enjoy a high medicinal reputation both inArgentina and in Chile. Much to the surprise ofSenor Guillermo, his friend Pedro had departedwith the other correspondents for Chile, whence, aswe afterwards learnt, they almost immediately returned. We would fain have stopped here overnight, but our muleteers insisted upon pushing on toLas Cuevas, alleging that the distance from Puentedel Inca to the summit of the Cordillera was toogreat for the mules to perform before 10 a.m., atwhich hour dangerously strong winds commence tosweep the frozen pinnacle. Our Las Vacas friendsconfirmed this statement ; and so, with barely timefor refreshment and an all too brief inspection of thebe-auties of the Inca s Bridge, we made a start forLas Cuevas, the baggage-mules again preceding us.The sun had set ere we reached the Cajon delRio de las Cuevas a chasm of unknown profundity and as there is scarcely any twilight inthe Andes, the last mile of our journey waseffected in total darkness.

Trusting entirely tothe instinct of our mules, though the track here isknown to be extremely dangerous, we safelyarrived at last at the posada. The dinner wasquite good enough for hungry travellers to dojustice to it ; but when the question of sleepingaccommodation was broached, and we were shownour quarters, we knew that at least we wrere in


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CROSSING THE ANDES 55for roughing it with a vengeance. It was a shedused apparently as a lumber-room, hen-roost, dog-kennel, and asylum generally for such animals aspreferred a roof to the open air. However, withthe help of a liberal supply of blankets, we madethe best of it. Having prepared what appearedto be a cosy corner, I was just about to extinguish the light and turn in, when I espied acolony of fowls roosting just above my head.Now, there are obvious and valid objections tothese neighbours, and, as I did not care toabandon my corner, I decided to dislodge theenemy. First my own boots and then otherpeople s boots, and then every missile I couldfirst lay hands on, were hurled in rapid succession at those intrusive birds. With wild criesthey flew, fluttered, and fell about the room.The dogs, inside and out, hearing the din, joinedin with great spirit ; two goats, hitherto unnoticed,careered wildly about the place all was noise andconfusion.

1 Mon Dicu / cried Monsieur L , wakingwith a jump, whilst Robert and my secretary satrubbing their eyes in bewilderment. Mon Dieu quest ce quil y a done f

I explained as well as I could, for laughing.Mais cest infdme / cried the irritated French

man, making a wild grab at a fugitive fowl hotlypursued by a terrier. A la porte toute la bande /And, opening the door, he, assisted by the other


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56 DARK DA YS IN CHILEtwo, and by the dogs, which vastly enjoyed theimpromptu fowl-hunt, made frantic efforts to expelthe disturbers of his slumbers. As for me, I coulddo nothing but roar with laughter. If the rowwas bad before, it was now ten times worse.

Pero, por Dios, caballeros, que hay f exclaimedthe owner of a shock-head appearing at the door.He speedily understood the situation and dulyapologized. But, said he, who could expectthat the caballeros would mind a few fowls VA few fowls cried Monsieur L ; why,it s a veritable menagerie However, the intruders were at length expelled,and we finished the night in peace.With all his efforts, Jose found it difficult to getus away by seven o clock next morning, and at thelast moment Robert tearfully objected to returning to Puente del Inca (as per agreement), andbegged so hard to be allowed to go on with methat, as usual, I gave way.The ascent to the Cumbre, the topmost point ofthe Cordillera, and more than 13,000 feet abovesea-level, is naturally very steep, and the track ismade as tortuous as possible to ease the mules.Hence it was nearly ten o clock ere we reachedthe summit, an ice-bound plateau, and commencedthe descent upon the Chilian side, which is farsteeper than the other. Indeed, so precipitous isthe fall, that even the mules could with difficultykeep their footing, and for a short distance it was


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CROSSING THE ANDES 57deemed prudent to dismount and descend on foot.The traveller readily understands how completelyimpassable this track is in the winter-time, whenburied beneath many fathoms of snow. It maybe noted that the pass is, ordinarily, quite safe,so far as snow is concerned, between the monthsof October and May, and is frequently traversedby ladies. The Andine mules are so marvellouslysurefooted that accidents are of rare occurrence.So the most timid reader, who may deem sublimescenery worth a long voyage, need be under nospecial apprehension about crossing the Cordilleraat the right season.About 3,500 feet from the summit lies theLaguna del Portillo, as dreary a sheet of wateras the world, perhaps, contains, but, surroundedon all sides by lofty hills, picturesque in its verydesolation. It is, of course, fed by the snow,which melts in the summer-time. Near the lakeis a rough stone shanty, for the shelter of wearyor weather-beaten travellers.

Beyond this is a precipitous descent, adorned bya thundering cascade, and known as the Salto delSoldado, or Soldier s Leap. The name was due tosome unfortunate deserter, the guide said, who preferred death in this form to recapture. In wildgrandeur, it scarcely comes up to Govett s Leap inthe Blue Mountains of New South Wales.

The junction of the rivers Blanco and Mendozaoccurs in a valley of unsurpassed beauty. One


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58 DARK DAYS IN CHILEcould watch for hours the milk-white waters ofthe Blanco rushing along to unite with the clearstream of the Mendoza, amid a profusion of luxuriant, if somewhat stunted, vegetation. It hasnothing in common with the Vale of Avoca, butis, on a wilder scale, quite as effective a meeting ofthe waters.

The most conspicuous landmark from theCumbre, looking in the direction of Chile, is ElJuncal, a huge extinct volcano, towards which wehad been slowly making our way. At the foot ofEl Juncal is a

capitallittle

pos

dark days in chile. an account of the revolution of 1891. (1892)

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