Orkeke conversed with him for some time—very leisurely and unconcernedly, I thought, considering the gravity of the issue of the negotiations—and then, turning to me, he asked me to tell his friend, who understood Spanish, what I wanted.
I began. 'You have plenty horses?'
'Yes, plenty.'
'Quien sabe, you lend me two?'
Here a long pause, during which I anxiously endeavoured to read the answer to my question in the face of the Indian. But its expression was a blank. Presently he suggested:
'How much you pay?'
'Oh, plenty sugar, plenty biscuit, plenty silver dollar,' I exclaimed, gesticulating to an unlimited extent, and radiant with satisfaction, as now I thought the matter had taken a practical and final turn.
'Bueno! But how send back horses to Indian?'
'Guillaume come back with horses and presents from colony in six days.'
Here another long pause. The Indian seemed to be looking at some object on the hills fifty miles away, apparently oblivious of my presence. As he did not offer to resume the conversation, after a while I suggested cheerfully:
'Very well, all is settled; you go and fetch the horses, whilst I prepare my things and get ready to leave.' To my surprise he did not respond to my suggestion as readily as I had expected. I presumed I was going too quickly for him, and accordingly I modified my proposal this wise: 'Quien sabe, when will you fetch horses for me?'
No answer: the object on the hills still claimed his undivided attention. I waited patiently, wonderfully patiently, for a reply; though now and then, in the course of the quarter of an hour's silence which ensued, I did feel that it would have been an unspeakable relief to have given my nonchalant friend just one little cut with my whip. We cannot all have the dispositions of saints.
I contented myself, after the lapse of time mentioned, with repeating, 'Quien sabe, when will you fetch horses for me?'
Then fell on my ears 'some words, which were warning of doom!'—'Mi caballo, muy flaco, muy cansado.'
After having had my hopes raised to the highest point of expectation, to see them thus suddenly dashed to the ground for some mere whim, and without a show of reason, was more than flesh and blood could stand; I regret to say that I lost my temper, and hurled at the passive Indian a shower of furious imprecations. I am bound to say, however, that they did not seem to have the slightest effect upon him, and merely provoked a chorus of mocking laughter from the squaws. I went away in high dudgeon, and my reflections, after I had cooled down a little, were not rendered any pleasanter by the confession I had to make to myself, that I had no business to lose my temper, as, after all, the Indian had a perfect right to do as he chose with his own. Still, it was rather exasperating that, much as I wanted them, with two thousand horses grazing in the ravine around me, I could not obtain two.
Fortunately, relief was near at hand. I was just discussing with Guillaume what was to be done next, when Orkeke came up to us, and said that a scout had just arrived, and had told him that a white man was camping at a lake some eighteen miles away, and that, for a consideration, he would lend us a couple of horses to take us so far.
In half an hour the horses were driven up; and having made some small presents to Mrs. Orkeke and her family, I hastily left, fearing lest, acting on some new caprice, Orkeke might, at the last moment, find some pretext for taking the horses away from us again.
CHAPTER XV.
At last we said good-bye to the Indians, and set out, accompanied by a man who was to take the horses back, en route for a lake called the 'Laguna del Finado Romero,' after an ill-fated white man, who, like ourselves, had lost his horses in the pampa, and, unluckier than we had been, had failed to fall in with anyone on the road, and had finally died of starvation near the lake that now bears his name.
Our horses were lean, overworked, and broken-winded, and we were obliged to ride bare-backed, as the Indians had refused to lend us saddles; but we cared little for such slight drawbacks, in the joy of once more being able to look forward with certainty to a speedy arrival at our destination.
We had only been on foot for three days, but, looking back, it seemed to me an age since I had last bestrode a horse; and the pleasure I experienced, as we broke into a tolerably swift gallop, was heightened by the remembrance of those unpleasant days during which we trudged wearily along on foot, esteeming it a great triumph if we successfully scaled some pigmy hill without having to lie down two or three times to take breath, and when we hardly dared look at the vast expanse of plain before us, lest we should lose courage at the sight. Contrasted with that period of our journey, our present situation was all couleur de rose. Our sorry nags seemed gifted with the fleetness of the wind, their distressed puffing sounded in our ears like the proud snorting of the fiery steed scenting the chase, and their irregular pace, half gallop, half stumble, seemed as soft and pleasant as the gentle amble of a pampered park hack.
After about three hours' sharp riding, we reached the lake, beside which was pitched the tent of the white man of whom the Indians had told us. The barking of the dogs warned him of our approach, and he came out to meet us, not a little astonished at our appearance, as the Indians had told him that the Gallegos had risen, and, of course, he had not imagined that anyone could have come from Santa Cruz. He kindly welcomed us into his tent, where the first thing that struck my eye, as smacking pleasantly of civilisation, was an empty preserved-milk-tin. Our new host, whose name was Emilio, was an old acquaintance of Guillaume's, and he very kindly offered to lend us horses to continue our journey to Sandy Point with, as the Indian was returning with those we had come on.
As the weather looked very threatening, and big rain-drops were already beginning to fall, we thought it best to defer our start for another day, feeling that, in one way and another, we had had quite enough wettings lately.
The tent we now found ourselves in seemed 'fitted up' with all modern conveniences; indeed, Emilio appeared to be, as he in reality was, rather an amateur than a professional ostrich-hunter, and his neat riding-suit and general clean appearance made me, for the first time, painfully conscious of the strange scarecrow figure I must have made in the eyes of a civilised human being. The pampa had dealt rather roughly with my wardrobe. I was hatless, shoeless, and coatless, having tossed away or lost all these necessary articles of wear at various periods of my peregrinations. My shirt and trousers were tattered and torn; my hair, which had been a stranger to the comb for weeks, was long and matted; and my face, from continual exposure to sun and wind, had become of a deep Tehuelche brown. Fortunately, no excuses for my appearance were necessary; and, having dismissed our Indian friend with his horses, we sat down in the tent to discuss some maté and a pipe, over which luxuries Emilio satisfied my voracious appetite for news of the war in the East, with such items of information as he had picked up lately in Sandy Point.
Touching the dinner-hour, which was now approaching, he told us that his companion had gone to the settlement ten days ago to fetch provisions, and as he had not yet come back, he (Emilio) had run short of everything, and had not so much as a biscuit in the place—a piece of information which gave me a shock, which I trust I bore with more outward composure than my inner feelings warranted. However, when dinner was served, matters turned out to be better than Emilio had represented, and our hearts were gladdened over a puchero of guanaco meat, seasoned with onions, pepper, and salt, and other old acquaintances, whose want we had lately so often and so feelingly deplored.
Darkness came on soon after dinner was over, and we were accordingly not long in turning in. All through the night there was a heavy downpour of rain, and as I listened to it pattering on the canvas of our tent, snugly rolled up in my warm capa, I thought, with a shudder, in what a different plight I should have then been had we not had the good fortune to meet the Indians. Instead of lying warm and dry under the shelter of the tent, we should doubtless have been stretched somewhere on the muddy ground, in damp clothes and soaking furs, hungry and sleepless, and exposed to the inclemency of the weather, without even the means of making a fire.
The next day the rain cleared off at about ten o'clock, and Emilio, who was anxious to know what had become of his companion, resolved to accompany us, leaving his tent and horses in charge of a servant. On the previous day I had felt little inconvenience from riding barebacked, the satisfaction of having a horse at all far outweighing the consideration of any minor discomforts. But to-day I could no longer remain callous to the inconvenience and pain of bumping up and down hour after hour on the back of a not over well-conditioned horse. After the first few miles, the sensation experienced became extremely unpleasant, and gradually developed into a species of mild torture—to culminate, after galloping some thirty miles, in the most excruciating anguish the mind can conceive of. However, we were not to be stopped by mere pain, and jogged along as best we could.
The country we now traversed began to differ essentially from the regions I had hitherto passed through. The monotonous alternation of plains and ravines gave way to a not less monotonous succession of soft swells or undulations. The height of the crests of these undulations was about twenty feet, and the soil which covered them, judging from the appearance of the grass, seemed of a more fertile nature than that of the country farther north. As yet, however, there was no appearance of any new species of bush. Occasionally an ostrich would start up at our approach; but already we began to miss the familiar sight of the guanacos, which are, until one arrives as far south as we now were, an inevitable feature of a Patagonian landscape.
After emerging from this undulating tract, the transit of which occupied several hours, we came into an irregularly-formed country, abounding in fresh-water lakes, which were covered with wild geese and ducks. Here the calafaté bushes seemed to grow stronger and healthier-looking; and the now green grass, growing in abundance everywhere, gave an unaccustomed look of fertility to the country. We were not far from Cape San Gregorio, and occasionally we could catch a hazy glimpse of the sea.
Meantime evening came on, and we began to look about for a favourable place to camp at for the night. In casting about we observed a thin column of smoke arising from a small gorge some little way ahead. Thither we accordingly rode, and presently came upon a young fellow who was just making a fire, he having evidently arrived a few minutes ago. His horses were grazing about the cañon. He started up at our approach, and greeted us very cordially, Guillaume being an old acquaintance of his. He turned out to be a Frenchman, and had formerly been cook to the Governor of Sandy Point, but had subsequently taken to ostrich-hunting and trading with the Indians as more congenial pursuits.
He was a very pleasant and lively companion, and we had a very cheerful evening together. Besides, at dinner he gave us some specimens of his art, which stamped him as a master, or at least I thought so then. I actually found a laurel-leaf in the puchero of this epicurean ostrich-hunter, and presently he turned out an omelette aux fines herbes, which might have been prepared in a royal kitchen, instead of in the desert, over a smoky, green-wood fire, by the doubtful light of a few stars. As he kindly offered to lend us horses to go on with, there was no necessity for Emilio to accompany us any further, especially as, through our new acquaintance, he had got news of the coming of his absent companion. Before we went to bed, therefore, I thanked him for his kindness, and said good-bye to him, as Guillaume and I intended starting at about three o'clock in the morning, in order to get to Sandy Point the same night. We purposed starting thus early as there was an arm of the sea to cross, which, if we happened to reach it at high-water, might detain us for several hours. I also took leave of our host, and then we all went to our beds, to sleep through what I hoped was to be my last night on the pampa.
When the position of the stars seemed to indicate its being about three o'clock, Guillaume and I, after a hasty cup of coffee, bridled the horses that had been lent to us, and waving a silent adieu to our sleeping companions, we rode off through the darkness towards the Cabeza del Mar, or 'Head of the Sea,' which we hoped to reach at low-water. We were not so well mounted as the day before, as we soon discovered to our cost. My horse, in particular, was a lean, raw-boned animal, with a terribly rough gallop, and as the trail had now become swampy and full of holes, it would occasionally stumble and throw me forward in a most punishing manner, and I suffered even more than the day before from the want of a saddle. Meanwhile, the darkness slowly gave way to dawn, and by the time the sun had risen, we reined in our panting horses, on whom the steep hills and heavy ground had told severely, at the rocky shores of the Cabeza del Mar. The water was at ebb-tide, and we had to wait an hour or two before we could cross over. Cabeza del Mar, marked on the Admiralty charts as Peckett's Harbour, is an inlet of the sea which runs for some distance into the interior.
Having crossed over without any accident, we again continued our journey at a gallop. The ground was very soft, and for miles was half under water. At one spot my horse sank into a quagmire, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that I finally got it out again. Altogether, our horses, which were very thin and in wretched condition, began to show signs of distress as the hours wore on, and at times we were apprehensive lest they would not be able to reach Sandy Point. Still we splashed on through mire and water, without sparing whip or spur. Now and then we caught sight of the sea, and when the rising wind swept away the mist which obscured the horizon, the snow-clad peaks of the distant Cordilleras showed plainly against the blue sky. We hailed them with delight, for we knew that at the foot of the last spur lay Sandy Point.
Presently we passed a stunted clump of beeches, standing in the midst of the bare plain, like an advanced picket of the dense forests which, a little farther south, clothe the sides of the straits and the broad slopes of the Cordilleras. After having passed so many weeks without having seen any vegetation but the grass and low scrub of the pampas, the sight of these beeches was indescribably refreshing and cheering, and produced the same exhilarating effect on us as the sudden appearance of land after a long sea-voyage does on the traveller, weary of the eternal sameness of sea and sky.
On we went, leaving the beeches behind us, over a broad grass-covered plain, now half under water and a mere swamp, the distant hills growing gradually more and more distinct. By this time I had grown as tired as my horse, and had left off the use of either whip or spur, as it seemed to take no notice of them, just jogging along at its own pace, a kind of slinging shuffle, varied now and then by a lurch forward, as if about to fall—an ending to our ride which would not have surprised me in the least, considering the condition of the poor animal and the distance we had gone since morning. But the Patagonian horses are wonderfully hardy, and can do an astonishing amount of work in a condition which makes it seem doubtful whether they will be able to carry their own weight. This was the case with those we were now riding, which were mere skin and bone; and yet we had been already nine hours on the road, scaling steep hills, and staggering over swampy, heavy ground of the most trying nature.
Time went on. The beeches became more frequent, and finally we arrived at the foot of a thickly wooded hill, which seemed to mark the commencement of a totally new region; for whereas hitherto all vegetation had been scarce and stunted, it now became comparatively varied and luxuriant. Following a beaten track, we rode up the hill through a glade of beeches, which were just bursting into leaf. On reaching its summit I paused, for suddenly flashed on my gaze, lying at the foot of the hill on whose crest I now stood, the shining waters of the Straits of Magellan. With avidity I feasted my eyes, wearied of the eternal monotony of the pampa horizon, on the varied and sunlit scene before me. In strange contrast to the bare plains I had just left was the bold outline of the winding coast, which sank abruptly down, green with dense foliage, to the very edge of the foaming water, whilst in the background rose the gigantic ridges of the Cordilleras, their sharply-cut and snow-clad peaks standing plainly defined on the for once cloudless sky.
On the opposite side of the straits the tall cliffs of Terra del Fuego were plainly visible; and presently, emerging from a bend in the coast, a little schooner came skimming down, with all her sails set and her colours flying, bound, no doubt, for the neighbouring Falkland Islands.
But time was precious, as we wanted to get to Sandy Point before night-time; so off we started again, down the precipitous side of the hill, the bottom of which we reached after many a slip and stumble, the melting of the snows having carried away whole lengths of what had been a beaten pathway. The farmhouse of Cabo Negro now came in sight, and near it, grazing at their ease in the fresh young grass, were herds of horses and cattle. As their familiar lowing fell on my ears, my heart quite warmed towards the sleek-coated, gentle-eyed cows, and I bestowed a kindly greeting on them in passing, quite as if they had been human beings. But to me at that moment they represented something more than mere milk and butter in perspective (though that consideration was not altogether absent from my mind). In their staid, respectable demeanour, so different from the wild capers and antics of my late friends, the guanacos, I recognised the softening influences of civilisation, and in my present mood I was only too glad to be able to hail its presence under any symbol, even though it were but in the lowly guise of a simple-minded cow.
On reaching the farmhouse we dismounted for a while, in order to give our horses the rest they sorely needed. The owner, Lieutenant Gallegos, received us very kindly, and asked us into the house to take some refreshment. Whilst the meal was being prepared, I explained to him the circumstances which had brought us into the strange plight in which he beheld us, our saddleless nags and our dilapidated appearance having naturally aroused his curiosity. He was not surprised to hear of the unusually high flood at Gallegos, as, on the melting of the snows, there had been great inundations all round the colony, and an unprecedented snowfall during the winter. The winter itself had been of unusual duration, for although it was now almost summer-time, until a few days since, like ourselves, they had experienced regular wintry weather. In the meantime a repast had been served, and I sat down actually on a chair, and ate off a plate with knife and fork, feeling quite awkward and bearish, as if I had till then never enjoyed such luxuries. However, this feeling soon wore off, and before I had finished my meal I felt quite at home again. As soon as we had exhausted our respective budgets of news, we said good-bye to Lieutenant Gallegos, and remounted our horses, who had profited by the short respite allowed them, and had become tolerably fresh again.
Our path now lay along the Straits of Magellan. The water almost washed our horses' feet as we rode along the narrow path, for the mainland falls almost vertically down to the waters edge, and is covered with a dense, impenetrable mass of trees and bushes—the latter chiefly of the magnolia species—and one is forced to keep on the meagre strip of stony beach, which in some places is hardly three feet broad. This narrow track was further occasionally obstructed by trunks of beech-trees and other drift-wood, torn probably from the land on the opposite side, and swept thither by the sea in its angry moods; and sometimes a still more formidable hindrance would present itself, in the shape of a landslip, with a whole slice of virgin forest torn away with it, the trees, bushes, and creepers still green and flourishing. In those cases, where the soil had already been washed away by the sea, all the less durable vegetation having long mouldered away, a prey to the wind and waves, only the dead trees remained, looking sad and ghastly in their untombed nakedness—some fallen, others still upright, but leaning against each other in forlorn helplessness, their white, bare roots firmly interlaced, and their long, dry arms rattling against each other in the wind, like the bones of so many skeletons.
Following its numerous bends, we rode along the beach for about three hours: and then, in measure as we approached the long sandy strip of land which stretches out into the sea, and which has given the name of Sandy Point to the settlement, the beach got broader, the fall of the land less abrupt, and the forest gradually lightened, till, reaching the Government sawmill, which is situated at about six miles from the colony, we came to an open plain, studded here and there with beeches, across which we galloped for some time; and finally, having forded one or two small streams, we at last arrived in sight of the town itself.
CHAPTER XVI.
The colony of Magellan was founded by the Chilian Government in the year 1851. The population of Sandy Point, including the convicts and garrison, and the Swiss settlers of Agua Fresca, numbered, at the time I am speaking of, about eight hundred souls. The town lies at the foot of a high ridge of hills, facing the straits. It contained a fort, a church, and some tolerable-looking Government buildings, but, excepting one or two streets in the lower part of the town, the rest of the place had a poor, straggling appearance, the houses being mostly one-storied wooden shanties, and the streets grass-grown and hillocky, with here and there the stump of a beech-tree sticking up from the ground. But to me, as I rode through it, just before sundown, tired and fagged with my day's ride, it looked pleasant and cheerful enough, for it held out promises of shelter, rest, and good cheer, after a long, weary time of exposure and hardship, and it was, besides, a connecting link with the outer world, to reach which had been my only thought for weeks—weeks which, as I looked back on them, in the variety of sensation and incident which had marked their course, seemed almost so many years.
I rode slowly up the main street, letting my eyes wander leisurely over the unaccustomed sights which everywhere met my gaze, and which I greeted inwardly one by one, as it were renewing an old acquaintance. The shops with their many wares displayed in the windows, the knots of drinkers standing at the bars, which in Sandy Point grace every establishment, be it a butcher's, or a baker's, or a tailor's; the little children playing about the streets; the housewives taking in their little washing from the clothes-line, and doing a great deal of gossip over it, as is their wont; the cows coming lowing down from the woods with their calves, and going to their respective homes to be milked; the loungers in collars and neckties (strange sight), who stared at me as I went past—everything and everybody came in for a share of my attention. Each one sight helped to confirm the complacent feeling of security from further danger which had come over me since I passed the Cabo Negro farm-house. The turn in the long lane had come at last, the chapter of accidents was over, and, like the heroes of the fairy tales, I was to live happy ever after. Alas for human foresight! Could I have foreseen the events which in a few hours were to take place, in all probability I should then and there have turned my horse round and ridden with all speed back to the pampas. But if coming events do cast their shadows before them, it is very seldom that our imperfect mental vision can perceive them, and certainly there was no forecast of the horrors of the coming day in the atmosphere of the settlement of Sandy Point, on the evening of that 10th of November. People came and went, and laughed and talked with each other, just as usual, little thinking that by that time to-morrow they would be flying from their pillaged and burning homes, with their wives and children, and that the colony, now so tranquil and peaceful, would to-morrow be delivered into the hands of a set of sanguinary ruffians, free to indulge in their worst passions unchecked.
There are no inns at Sandy Point, visitors being of rare occurrence, so we put up at the house of an Austrian, named Pedro, who had formerly been an Indian trader, and now kept a small shop. After having indulged in the luxury of a warm bath and a shave, and having made some suitable changes in my raiment, I sat down to dine with Pedro. The havoc I made amongst cheeses, fresh butter, bread, jam, etc., was tremendous. I think—and it is an important consideration which, strange to say, has escaped even Brillat-Savarin—that every man who has any pretension to considering himself a gastronome, should make it a supreme duty to give his palate a complete rest, at least once a year, and subsist for a month or two on as poor a diet as is compatible with keeping body and soul together. His temporary self-denial will be more than repaid by the renewed sensibility of his palate which will result from such a course, and he will return to his favourite dishes with that fresh zest and exquisite enjoyment which is vouchsafed to most people only in the palmy heyday of their schoolboy appetites.
After dinner I lost no time in going to bed. I had been fifteen hours, not in the saddle, but literally on horseback, and I was weary enough, as may be supposed. I felt, as I lay down on my bed, that I had well earned a good night's rest, and was but little prepared for the rude awakening in store for me.
Towards midnight I was aroused by a noise which at first I took for thunder, but which on repetition, to my astonishment, proved to be the report of cannon. While I was still listening and wondering what could be the matter, Guillaume came hurriedly into the room and cried: 'The convicts and the soldiers have mutinied, and are firing on the lower town.' I was too sleepy to be able to quite seize the situation, and this startling piece of news only elicited a growl from me to the effect that I thought they might have waited till the morning, and I fell back, and was just dozing off again, when a volley of musketry, discharged at that moment close to our door, followed by a loud shriek, thoroughly awoke me, and I jumped out of bed and hurriedly put on my clothes.
As soon as all was quiet outside the house, I went to the door and cautiously opened it. It was still dark, but daybreak, to all appearance, was not far off. The streets near Pedro's house were quite deserted, but in the direction of the plaza there was a great commotion, and the shouting of many voices, the rattling of horses' hoofs over the paved streets, the deep growl of cannon, or the sharp report of a Remington, broke ominously on the silence of the night. Curious to know what was going on, Guillaume and I slipped into the street and stole towards the plaza, in order to question any person we might happen to meet as to the exact nature of the disturbance. Presently, in running along, I stumbled over something, and on turning back to look I found, with a shudder, that it was the dead body of a man, probably the one whose shriek we heard a short time ago. We had not gone far, when we saw somebody hastening our way as fast as his legs could carry him. We detained him for a moment, though he was as impatient to be gone as the wedding guest in the ballad, and he told us that the convicts and soldiers had mutinied, and had killed the governor of the colony, the captain of the garrison, and all the officers, and were now engaged in fighting among themselves. With this information we went back to the house, wondering what the upshot of the whole affair would be—a matter which it was rather difficult to foretell, as the Chilian man-of-war generally stationed at Sandy Point was at that time surveying the straits some distance away, and till she arrived the convicts and soldiers would be masters of the situation.
Our evil star, as I remarked to Guillaume, was still in the ascendant; indeed, it was a most peculiar instance of a continued run of bad luck, that on the very night of our safe arrival amongst civilised people, after having overcome not a few obstacles which had risen one after the other to frustrate our plans, an event should occur whose ultimate consequences might cause us to regret that we had ever crossed the Gallegos. Besides, it was not as if it were one of the ordinary accidents that may reasonably happen at any moment; far from it, the event in question was of so unusual a nature as to fairly make it improbable that it could happen even once in half a century. This being the case, it was rather provoking that, given all the antecedents of my journey, it should just happen at the very moment of my passing through Sandy Point.
There were as yet, however, no grounds for apprehending anything serious. It was probable that the mutineers, having obtained their liberty, would make use of it to escape as quickly as possible to the pampas, though what they were to do when they got there was best known to themselves. With these and sundry other unpleasant reflections passing through my mind, I lay down on my couch, and went to sleep again. When I awoke it was broad daylight. On opening my eyes I was startled by the sight of a drunken convict, who was leaning against the door of my room, holding a box of sardines in one hand and a piece of bread in the other. His Remington rifle, which, judging by the smell of powder it emitted, had been discharged several times, lay on the table beside my bed. He glared stupidly at me as I got up and went past him into the shop, which I found full of convicts and soldiers, who were eating and drinking and squabbling, and brandishing their Remingtons about in such a clumsy way that I expected at any moment to see some accident happen. They told me that they had killed the governor and all his family, and that they were now going off to the pampa to escape to the Argentine Republic. They professed to have no intention of harming any of the colonists, all they required being that they should be allowed to take whatever they wanted free of payment. They were continually quarrelling among themselves, the chief object of their dispute being the honour, to which every one seemed to lay claim, of having killed the governor—the truth being that he had not been killed by anyone, having escaped on horseback shortly after the revolt broke out. When one crowd left, another would come in, and so on all the morning, till very soon all the drinkables and eatables in Pedro's shop had disappeared.
Most of the mutineers, both soldiers and convicts, were Chilotes, as the people of the island of Chiloe are called. To do them justice, I must say that I have never seen a more repulsively ugly and wretched-looking race than these same Chilotes, at least, if I am to judge of them by the numerous specimens I had the pleasure of seeing at Sandy Point. They are of low stature and light build, their complexion is swarthy, their foreheads low, and the general expression of their faces is one of brutish stupidity blended with savage ferocity. I think there is, on the whole, very little to choose between them and the Fuegians, who, I believe, are commonly admitted to represent the lowest type of humanity extant.
Meanwhile the day wore on, but the mutineers did not seem in any hurry to quit the colony. It was impossible to leave the house to obtain any news of the revolt, as they were amusing themselves by firing random shots in all directions, during which pastime not a few of their own number were accidentally killed. About this time they commenced a wholesale pillage of the shops, at which task they were assisted by the women and the Chilian colonists generally. I do not think the latter actually took part in any of the acts of violence subsequently committed, but at the commencement of the revolt they certainly fraternised with the mutineers, and, in company with the latter, plundered and drank freely. Some colonists who lived opposite Pedro's house were busy all day long in carrying loads of wearing apparel and goods of all descriptions from the various shops into their dwellings. What they were ultimately to do with all their spoils, I suppose they hardly knew themselves, though, if they had not been too drunk, they might have reflected that so soon as order had been restored to the colony, a general search would be made, and they would not only be compelled to disgorge their plunder, but the fact of stolen goods being found in their possession would necessarily implicate them as having taken part in the mutiny. But the whole uprising was marked by the same utter absence of forethought, and the same incomprehensible indifference to inevitable consequences. If any pre-concerted plan of action had originally existed, it was certainly not acted upon, and to this fortunate circumstance it is owing that all their intended victims escaped with the exception of the captain of the garrison.
Towards three o'clock I was agreeably surprised by the sudden appearance of the German steamer in the offing, and I immediately began to make preparations for leaving by her, as I supposed that the mutineers would offer no objection to my taking my departure. My hopes were doomed to be disappointed, however. When the steamer arrived abreast of the English consul's house, which is situated about five miles further up the straits, a little cutter put off from the shore, evidently with the intention of acquainting the people on board the steamer of the mutiny. I watched with anxious eyes to see what the steamer would do. Having parleyed for a while with the people in the cutter, she moved slowly on again towards the colony. Presently the boat of the captain of the port put off from shore and went out to meet her. She had hardly got alongside, when a sudden report was heard, and a cannon-ball, fired from the fort, struck the water just under the steamer's bows. It was quickly followed by another, which fell rather wide of the mark. In the meanwhile, the steamer got out of range as quickly as she was able, and keeping well on the opposite side of the straits, she soon passed the colony, and gradually disappeared from sight, taking the boat of the captain of the port with her.
It appeared that the latter had been manned by several mutineers, who, disregarding the maxim anent honour among thieves, had made off with their own and their companions' share of certain moneys which had been plundered from the military chest. They had hoped to palm themselves off on the authorities on board as peaceful citizens, who had made good their escape from the dangers of the revolt, but the captain took the liberty of doubting their representations, and put them all into irons. They were eventually brought back to Sandy Point by an American man-of-war, which met the German steamer a few days afterwards.
Partly from rage at having been duped by their comrades, and partly from pure love of mischief, the mutineers had endeavoured to shell the steamer, and their first shot was very nearly attended with disastrous success.
I consoled myself for the disappointment I had just experienced, by the thought that the Pacific steamer for Monte Video, the Cotopaxi, was due on the following day, and I was determined that I would not miss her in the same way. There was no other steamer after her for another fortnight, and it would indeed be a fatality if, after all the efforts I had made in order to reach Sandy Point in time to take her, she should actually pass by before my very eyes, without my being able to go on board.
As it was possible that she might arrive at any moment, I resolved to go immediately to the English consul's house, in order to go on board with him, for I did not doubt that he would put off to warn her not to approach the colony.
Without losing any time, therefore, I started off with Guillaume. On the way we met several bands of mutineers, who were in a very advanced state of intoxication. They told us that they were going to set fire to the town, and leave that night for the pampas; but though they were always threatening to shoot one another, they did not molest us in any way. I noticed that they were all dressed in new clothes, and some even had as many as three waistcoats on.
When I arrived at the English consul's house, I found there was no one in it except the foreman of the sawmill, a Scotchman, who had but recently arrived at the colony, and who was by no means tranquil in his mind as to the turn events had taken. He told me that Dr. Dunsmuir, the consul, had gone off in his cutter to meet the German steamer, but that he had not yet returned, probably owing to a strong head-wind which was then blowing. I remained, therefore, to await his coming, and Guillaume went back to the colony, to see how matters were going.
CHAPTER XVII.
I found McGregor, my new companion, in a state of despondent dread lest a party of mutineers should arrive from Sandy Point 'and murder us a'.' I endeavoured to convince him that there was no danger, as indeed I believed there was not; but he refused to be comforted, and grew so gloomy at the thought of the terrible fate in store for him, that at last I gravely said: 'Well, I see there is no use in hiding the truth from you. We are in a most dangerous plight, and if bad fortune does lead the soldiers here, we are as likely as not to get our throats cut.' This lugubrious intimation had the effect I anticipated. Feeling that nature unaided was not strong enough to sustain him under the present critical circumstances, McGregor applied himself so assiduously to a jar of whisky that was fortunately at hand, that in a very short time he became quite cheerful, and even warlike, and sang 'Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled' with astonishing vigour and persistency, till, yielding to the soft influences of his native stimulant, he at last sank into that sweet, calm slumber from which the awakening is 'hot coppers.'
Meanwhile, evening came on apace, but no signs of the consul, and I began to fear that he had been blown too far out to sea to get back again that night. To pass away the time, I inspected the house, which was one-storied, and consisted of two large front rooms, a sitting-room, and a bedroom, behind which were two smaller compartments, one used as a larder, and the other as a kitchen. From the back-door one had only to step out to find one's self in a dense beech forest.
Just as it was getting dark, I heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and Guillaume galloped up to the house, breathless and excited. He told me that matters had taken a very serious turn in the colony; the mutineers had committed several acts of violence, and a general massacre being apprehended, great numbers of the colonists were flying to the woods. He himself had had a very narrow escape. He had been seized by a party of mutineers, who were making preparations for leaving for the pampas, and who wished to requisition his services as guide to Santa Cruz. All his remonstrances were in vain, and they plainly intimated to him that he had to choose between accompanying them and having a bullet put through him; he was compelled, therefore, to appear to assent. In order to gain time, he asked that he might be allowed to go to Pedro's house to fetch some clothes, and his request being granted, two soldiers were sent with him to prevent any attempt he should make to escape. They were, fortunately, so drunk, however, that they had hardly been a few minutes in the house when they lay down and soon fell fast asleep. Profiting by this lucky circumstance, Guillaume lost no time in jumping on a horse which happened to stand in Pedro's yard, and in a few seconds he placed himself out of danger of pursuit.
All this news was the reverse of reassuring, and I began to think that McGregor's fears were, after all, not wholly unfounded. The consul's house was only a few yards off the road which led from Sandy Point to the Swiss colony at Agua Fresca, and at any time we might expect an unpleasant visit from some of the soldiers, who were continually going that way in search of horses or plunder. To make matters worse, neither Guillaume nor I had a revolver, and although we searched all over the house, we could not find an arm of any description. If attacked, therefore, we had no means of defending ourselves—a consideration which did not tend to allay our apprehensions.
After supper we made preparations for passing the night. McGregor, who in the meantime had awakened, made up a bed for himself on the floor; and although I advised him not to, he would insist on taking off his clothes. I lay down on a sofa to take a short nap, pending the consul's arrival, which I hoped would not now be long delayed. I soon fell asleep, but at about midnight I awoke, roused by the pattering of rain on the roof. I got up and looked out at the weather. The night was pitch-dark, and the rain was falling in torrents; there was a stormy wind blowing, and I could plainly hear the hoarse roar of the waves on the beach. I went back to the sofa, but lay tossing about for a long time, unable, tired as I was, to go to sleep again.
An hour went by, and I was just dozing off, when I thought I heard a slight tap at the door. Hurriedly lighting the lamp, I got up and looked out. Something touched my hand, and looking down, I saw a little boy standing close to me. His first words were:
'My mamma is waiting at the bottom of the garden, and wants to know whether she may come in.'
'Certainly, my boy,' I said. 'But who is your mother?'
'My father is the governor, and we have had to run away from the town, for the soldiers are burning the houses and killing everybody.'
With that he ran away into the rain and the darkness, and came back after a second or two, followed by a lady, with several children and two maid-servants.
I immediately took them into the bedroom, and handed an armchair to Mrs. D——, the governor's wife, who was pale with exhaustion and suffering, and almost in a fainting condition. As soon as she was sufficiently rested to be able to speak, she told me that on the previous night, shortly after twelve o'clock, she had been startled from her sleep by the discharge of cannon, with which the mutineers had signalised the commencement of the revolt. Her husband immediately rushed into the street. He had hardly been gone two minutes, when suddenly a hail of mitrailleuse bullets began to crash through the house, riddling the very walls of her bedroom. By a miracle, in the midst of this deadly fire, she had time to collect all her children, and escape with them unhurt into the street by a back-door. In a few seconds more the house was in flames, and as she hurried away, she could hear the jubilant shouts with which the mutineers greeted the supposed successful slaughter of her husband and his family. She managed to escape to a little house on the beach, where she had remained hidden during the day without having been detected. But towards night the uproar and fighting amongst the mutineers increased, several houses were set fire to, and fearing that any moment a passing soldier might burst into the house and discover her, as soon as it got dark she had decided on attempting to reach the English consul's house. By chance she had learned during the daytime that her husband had escaped, and that in all probability he had gone to fetch the Chilian man-of-war Magellanes, now at Skyring Water, to put down the revolt.
I told her that Mr. Dunsmuir would, in all probability, not be back that night, but that, in the meantime, I should be glad to render her any assistance that she might require.
The children, the eldest of whom was the little boy who had come to the door first, and he was only seven, were dressed in whatever clothes the servants had hurriedly been able to snatch up on the night of the first alarm.
The poor things were in a terrible plight. They had been more than two hours on the road from Sandy Point, and were drenched to the skin with the rain and mire. They had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. I took them in some tea; but rest being what they chiefly required, with the help of mattresses and rugs, etc., we managed to make some tolerably comfortable beds for them. Having done this, we withdrew to the sitting-room, there to consult as to our plan of action, should the mutineers come to the house.
In the midst of the discussion, there was another knock; and on the door being opened, two more fugitives from the colony, an Irishman and his wife, made their appearance. Both seemed to have had recourse to strong stimulants to support their courage, and under the circumstances they were certainly not a desirable addition to our party.
During all this time McGregor had preserved a cheerful, unconcerned demeanour. He had been particularly active in his attentions to the D—— family, to the extent of insisting, with well-meant but misplaced zeal, that all should swallow a drop of whisky before going to bed. He found the new-comers did not require so much pressing.
Guillaume and I were sitting by the fire in the kitchen, trying to get a little sleep, of which we were sorely in need, when suddenly there was a loud banging at the front-door, followed by a loud chorus of oaths and vociferations. We immediately ran into the sitting-room, and Guillaume went to open the door, whilst I took the lamp into the kitchen. I had hardly put it down, when I heard a crash in the front-room, the house was filled with shrieks, and the Irish couple, McGregor, and, as I thought, Guillaume, rushed madly past me into the forest. Seized with the panic, I followed them for a moment; but reflection returning, I went back to the house, ashamed of my want of courage. I found half a dozen drunken soldiers in the sitting-room, parleying with Guillaume. Owing to the darkness, they had fortunately not discovered the other room, where Mrs. D—— was concealed; and in order to divert their attention from it, we induced them to go into the kitchen. There we plied them with more whisky, in the hopes of quickly reducing them to a state of complete inebriety. The transition phase was not a very pleasant one, inasmuch as they never let go their carbines, and frequently, half in joke, half in earnest, they pointed them threateningly at us. At times, too, they would wander into the sitting-room, and then moments of terrible suspense ensued for us, lest they should open the door of the bedroom. We were careful always to follow them, and had made up our minds, in the event of their attempting anything of the kind, to suddenly throw ourselves upon the two men nearest us, seize their carbines, which were sixteen-repeating Winchesters, and open fire on the lot. There was every chance in favour of the success of such a measure, as the mutineers were already so drunk that they could hardly stand, and if taken by surprise, would have been too bewildered to offer any resistance.
The tension of these moments was heightened by the probability that at any moment Mrs. D——'s babies might begin to cry, and thus reveal the secret of the room. Miraculously enough, however, they kept quiet, and we always managed to get the men back to the kitchen without the dreaded crisis occurring. It seemed as if they never would leave. Twenty times they got to the front-door, and we began to breathe afresh, thinking they were at last off; but twenty times, for some reason or other, they would come back again. From their conversation it was very hard to find out what they exactly wanted. Those who were still sufficiently sober to speak articulately, at times told us that they were going to start off to the pampa immediately, and at others that they intended holding the colony against all comers. At one moment they would be maudlinly affectionate; at another, they would lengthily discuss which mode of killing us was preferable—shooting us or cutting our throats. Of course we were always on the alert, and ready to make good our objections to either of these methods.
At last we had the indescribable satisfaction of seeing them depart for good. Guillaume followed them at some distance, to give the alarm in case they should come back, whilst I ran to the bedroom to tell Mrs. D—— that for the moment the danger was over. What she must have suffered all this time may be imagined. For two hours, every second of which must have seemed an eternity to her, she had been expecting to see the door burst open at any moment, and herself and her children at the mercy of the mutineers, of whose murderous intentions towards her she had had terrible proof in the bombarding of her house on the night of the commencement of the revolt. But her courage had not given way, as it might well have done under even less trying circumstances; and I found her, though pale and prostrate, thoroughly calm and collected. I hurriedly told her that at any moment the mutineers might come back, and that we had better leave the house, and fly to the woods.
We accordingly set out immediately. I took two of the smaller children in my arms, the maids each carried one, and the others walked by the side of their mother; and Guillaume, who had returned after having seen the soldiers safely off to the bottom of the garden, brought up the rear, carrying a mattress and some rugs and blankets. We then dived into the forest. It was still raining, and the night was as dark as could be. At every step we would meet with some mishap, now stumbling over the fallen trunk of a tree, and now slipping into some boggy hole. The children, who had hitherto behaved admirably, having borne hunger and cold and fatigue without a murmur, could now hardly be kept from crying. I carried a little girl of about four years old; her shoes and stockings had been lost in the hurry of collecting the rugs and bedclothes, and her uncovered feet were icily cold. But though I could hear her sob now and then on my shoulder, she was too brave to cry aloud. How the two babies lived through all this exposure was a miracle.
After having walked for about half an hour, for we could make but slow progress, we came to a spot which seemed far enough from the house to be safe, and there we spread out the two mattresses on the wet ground, under the lea of the trunk of a fallen beech-tree. The whole party managed to lie down on this rough bed, and, having covered them over with the rugs and blankets Guillaume had brought, we left them, to go back to the house to fetch some provisions and some more coverings, for there was no knowing how many days we might be compelled to pass in the woods.
We went very cautiously towards the house, as we could hear voices in the kitchen, and feared lest the soldiers might have returned already. The strains of 'Scots wha ha'e,' which pleasantly smote on our ears, reassured us, however, and we went boldly forward. We found that the Irish couple and McGregor had returned. They were toasting their happy escape with more whisky. McGregor was delighted to see that we were still alive, and said he had run away at the approach of the soldiers because 'I dinna speak Spanish, ye ken.'
We were cold and exhausted with the night's exertions, so whilst Guillaume went to see whether the coast was clear, McGregor set about making coffee, and I busied myself collecting provisions and other necessaries for taking with us to the woods.
Guillaume soon came back, bringing three carbines, which he had found at the bottom of the garden. From the marks in the ground, he surmised that, under the influence of their deep potations, the soldiers had probably lain down to sleep there, and on awakening had forgotten their arms. This was indeed a prize. Each carbine still contained some six or seven charges. As McGregor would have nothing to do with a weapon, Guillaume and I kept one each, and hid the other away in a bush near the house. As good luck, like bad, seldom comes singly, whilst rummaging about the bedroom in search of the little girl's stockings, I found a revolver. This might prove a more valuable weapon under certain circumstances than the carbine even, and with it safe in my coat-pocket I felt quite a different man.
We were just pouring out the coffee, having made all preparations for finally leaving the house, when Guillaume, who was always on the look-out, rushed suddenly in, and shouting, 'Run for your lives!' seized me by the arm, and dragged me out of the house. We had just time to snatch up the carbines and dash into the woods, when we heard the soldiers banging at the front-door. We did not stop till we had got some distance into the forest. Guillaume told me that there were about a dozen soldiers, amongst whom, doubtless, the three whose carbines he had taken. What they would do on not finding them anywhere in the house, we did not know, but it was not impossible that in their rage they might set fire to the house, and perhaps follow us into the woods. We now deeply regretted having tarried so long in the house, as we had now no provisions to take back to our charges. Whilst debating what to do, we were startled by the sharp crack of a rifle, discharged close to us, followed by the sound of approaching voices; and fearing the soldiers were in pursuit of us, we hurried as fast as possible to where we had left Mrs. D——.
On reaching the spot, we found she had risen, anxious on account of our long absence, and startled by the shot she had just heard. Without saying that I thought we were being followed, I told her that it was perhaps better that we should go still further into the forest, and, without losing a second, we gathered up the children, and again commenced our pilgrimage, plunging deeper and deeper into the dense mass of underwood, till we had got so far that pursuit seemed impossible.
By this time all the younger children were crying bitterly for want of food. A tin of preserved milk, which I had put in my pocket, had dropped out somehow, and it now became almost a matter of life and death that the babes should have some nourishment. Feeling the urgency of the case, Guillaume and I again started towards the house, hoping that the soldiers had given up their search for us, and had perhaps gone back to Sandy Point. We crept along with beating hearts, starting at the crackling of the branches under our feet, and fearing to find a foe concealed behind every tree, till we at last got to the open near the house. Under cover of some bushes, we crept close up to it. By the hum of voices we could tell that the soldiers were still inside, and presently one came out of the house and stood peering into the wood for a short time, standing so close to us that we could hear his breathing. After he had gone inside, we profited by the opportunity to slip back into the wood, and having made a circuit, we ensconced ourselves on an eminence on the other side of the house, where we were more secure, and where we could better watch the coming and going of our enemies.
There we lay hour after hour, and still they did not leave; they were in warm quarters, and the whisky was doubtless too strong an attraction for them. What, I began to think, if they should not leave all day? Our only chance would be to steal into the house after dark, and risk the rest. But it was doubtful whether the younger children could live till then without some nourishment. The tin of milk I had lost would have saved all anxiety, and I half made up my mind to start off and follow the path I had taken from the house to the woods, on the desperate chance of perhaps finding it again. Fortunately, matters did not reach that pitch, for at last, after having impatiently waited for about three hours, we saw ten or twelve soldiers leave the house, mount their horses, and ride off in the direction of Sandy Point. We immediately quitted our watchtower, and ran as fast as we could towards the house; but to our horror, just as we got to the door, we heard voices within again. We were desperate by this time; besides, it was too late to turn back, so, holding our guns in readiness, we cautiously approached the doorway. Then an anticlimax; for suddenly the Irishwoman, followed by her spouse, rushed out and almost received our fire.
On hearing Guillaume's shout of warning, they had waited a moment too long, and before they could get out of the place the soldiers were upon them. They had furiously demanded the missing carbines, but of course they were not to be found anywhere, whereupon they threatened to burn the house down. Here again the whisky saved the situation. They lingered so long over the cask that they quite forgot to look for the carbines, much less to go off in pursuit of us. Two or three of them went a few yards into the wood, and fired off a single shot at random, but they probably thought it would be dangerous to risk themselves too far, and they accordingly went back to their comrades. They stayed as long as the whisky lasted, and then went off again.
We lost no time in collecting a quantity of provisions, tins of preserved meats and soups, milk, ham, eggs, etc., etc., to which I added some plates, saucepans, knives, spoons—in fact, everything necessary for a prolonged sojourn in the woods. I told McGregor to come with us, if he liked, as to all appearance the mutineers seemed in no hurry to leave for the pampas, and sooner or later he might get into trouble. The Irish couple, having found a case of sherry, seemed to think their lines cast in a very pleasant place, and as the soldiers had as yet not done them any grievous harm, they made up their minds to stay.
Loaded with the remaining blankets and with the provisions, we made our way back as quickly as possible to Mrs. D——, who, as we had been away for more than four hours, had become quite alarmed lest some mishap had befallen us. We turned out the provisions, soon made a fire, and having dissolved some milk for the younger children, we commenced to prepare a substantial meal, of which everyone stood in great need. We were just beginning to feel a little more at our ease, the children had been able to dry their clothes and warm themselves by the fire, some meat we had set to roast was nearly done to a turn, and, feeling secure now from all danger, we were able for the first time to quietly talk of the late events and discuss the probability of the speedy arrival of the Chilian man-of-war—when two women came running through the woods towards us, pale and frightened, calling out as they got near, "The soldiers, the soldiers! Run for your lives!"
We all started to our feet in dismay. It was perhaps already too late to fly. We were at all events armed, and could at least make a good stand if necessary. Meanwhile we hurriedly lifted the children in our arms, and leaving everything else behind us, we again "moved on," turning our heads at every second, to be prepared should the soldiers arrive. No one appeared, however; and it seemed merely a false scare of the women. The forest had become so dense that occasionally we had to pick our way through thick underwood. The ground was a mere swamp, full of treacherous holes, and the rain and moisture clinging to the leaves of the bushes drenched us all to the skin as we brushed through them. But still we kept on, determined to place such a distance between the road and our camp as to leave us perfectly at ease as regards the mutineers, who would certainly never take the trouble of looking so far into the wood for anybody, even if they were to stop another month round the colony.
When we reached a small open in the thicket, where the ground was tolerably dry, we set down the children, and returned on our tracks to fetch the mattresses, coverings, and food we had left behind. We found everything just as we had left it, and not a sign of anyone having been near the place. The women who had run past us had, perhaps, heard some branches crackle, and had immediately concluded that the mutineers were coming. However, there was nothing to be done but to carry everything to our new camping-place—no easy task, as both Guillaume and myself were completely done up with our continued exertions, and the mattresses and various other articles were in themselves heavy enough.
We had hidden our charges so well that we could not find them ourselves; and only after a great deal of searching, quite by accident, we happened to stumble on the place again. To keep off the wet, which was dropping from the trees, we rigged up a kind of tent over the mattresses with some blankets, and under its shelter the whole party lay huddled together. We then tried to make a fire, but as the wood was wet it could not be got to burn, and only blinded us with smoke. After a great deal of blowing, we at last succeeded in raising a fair glow, by the aid of which we managed to cook a meal, which was actually eaten. And quite time it was, too, as the children had had nothing but the milk for nearly forty-eight hours.
It was now about four o'clock. I became anxious to know what was going on in the colony, and whether there was any possibility of the mutineers leaving soon. Leaving McGregor in charge of the camp, Guillaume and I made our way down to the road, and keeping under cover of the wood, slowly proceeded in the direction of the colony, in the hopes of meeting some one who could give us some news. We had not gone very far when we saw a stout little man coming running along the road at full speed. Guillaume recognised him as one of the bakers at Sandy Point, and called to him to stop, as he ran past us. As soon as he could find breath to speak, he said that a short time before the house where he lived had been attacked by the soldiers, two of his companions had been killed, and he had only saved himself by jumping out of a window, just as the mutineers were standing in the doorway of his room, with fixed bayonets, inviting him to pass through their midst. There was hardly anyone left in the colony, most of the inhabitants having taken refuge in the woods. He had seen several dead bodies lying about as he had hurried away, but having never been out of his house since the commencement of the revolt, he could give us little information as to the doings of the mutineers.
We went back to the consul's house with him. The Irishwoman was still there, and was sleeping peacefully in an armchair; her husband we found lying in the kitchen, with several severe head-wounds. A pillaging party had evidently gone through the place, for drawers were upset, crockery smashed, curtains torn down, and general disorder prevalent everywhere. The baker was in a hurry to be off to the woods, for after his recent narrow escape he had a wholesome, but perhaps excessive, dread of being suddenly seized by the mutineers again.
But though we had plenty of provisions of all kinds, there was neither bread nor biscuit in the house, so I asked him—flour, eggs, and butter being at hand—to make the dough for some cakes, which could be baked up in the woods at our leisure. Very reluctantly he agreed to do so, on condition that Guillaume should watch the road, to give timely warning of the approach of danger. Presently Guillaume called me, and on going out I saw a dense cloud of smoke rising in the direction of the colony. The convicts had evidently set fire to the town, a prelude, perhaps, to their departure. There was no wind, and soon a heavy downpour of rain commenced; but we had little hope that a stick would be left standing in the whole settlement, which was built exclusively of timber. The dough being ready, though I think it had not been kneaded very carefully, we went back into the wood, losing our way as on the former occasion; and had it not been for the familiar strains of 'Scots wha ha'e!' with which McGregor was cheering the children, and which at last guided us to the camp, we might have wandered about for hours.
We were now quite a large party, the possibility of being again disturbed by the mutineers was out of the question; and if only we had been able to make a good blazing fire, than which there is nothing so cheering to the spirits, we might, comparatively speaking, have felt fairly comfortable. But whatever wood we could collect was quite wet, and it was difficult to get it to burn sufficiently to cook the dinner by.
Under shelter of the improvised tent we had managed to rig up, and with the aid of the few coverings procured from the consul's house, Mrs. D—— and the children were fortunately kept tolerably dry and warm, and overcome with the anxieties and exertions of the day, they were able to forget their troubles in sleep. As for myself and the other men, we tried for some time to do likewise, but having no coverings, the cold and wet effectually kept us awake, and we passed the night huddled round the smouldering logs, listening to the monotonous pattering of the rain on the canopy of leaves above us, and longing wearily for the morning.
It broke at last, and with it came better weather. As soon as the sun was well up, I went down to the house to see if there was anything new. On reaching a point from which the settlement was visible, from the changed aspect of the town, it was evident that the fire had done great ravages. It was, however, too far off for me to recognise whether many of the houses were left standing, which, considering the nature of their construction, was not probable. A thin column of smoke was still rising from one part, but the fire itself seemed spent. I then looked down the straits towards Dawson's Island, but as yet there was no sign of any coming steamer. The Pacific steamer Cotopaxi was due on the day before, and as it is very unusual for the vessels of that line to be behind time, I concluded that she had been met by the English consul, and was possibly awaiting the arrival of the Chilian man-of-war, whose coming could not now be long delayed, before approaching the colony.
On my way back to our forest sanctuary, I stumbled on a knot of Chilian women, who told me they had escaped from the colony the previous night, for fear of being taken to the pampas by the mutineers, who were making preparations for leaving immediately. They all had big bundles of clothes with them, and, strange to say, all wore brand-new shawls and gowns. I had not the slightest doubt but that they had done their share in the general plundering. It was good news, at all events, to hear that the mutineers were at last really off, of which the burning of the colony was the best proof.
After breakfast I started off with Guillaume, with the intention of going to Sandy Point, if possible, and discovering the real state of affairs there. But on reaching the road just below the consul's house, to our surprise we found it thronged with fugitives from the settlement, who were issuing from all parts of the woods, where they had been hiding. On looking seawards, the reason became apparent. Steaming along at full speed, and already nearly opposite the house, we saw the long-expected Magellanes, the Chilian man-of-war. I immediately ran back to take the welcome news to Mrs. D——, that her troubles were now over. For the last time we carried the children through the wood down to Mr. Dunsmuir's house, which, by the time we got there, was crowded with women and children, carrying such of their household goods as they had been able to take with them in their flight.
As soon as the Magellanes arrived in front of the house, a boat was sent off to the shore, in which Mrs. D—— and her children embarked to meet her husband, who was safe on board. Shortly after, another larger boat came to fetch off the other women and children.
Here a rather ludicrous scene ensued. Just before the boat touched land, the people on shore were suddenly seized with panic at the sight of some dark bodies advancing on the road from Sandy Point, and which they thought were the soldiers coming towards them. Immediately the air was filled with shrieks, and, throwing down their bundles, they all rushed into the water to meet the advancing boat. The sailors had to keep them off with their oars, or they would have swamped the boat. Meanwhile, the foe came nearer, the shrieks grew louder, some of the men even sharing in the general weakness, till at last the coming squadron of horsemen resolved itself into a herd of cows, who came trotting leisurely down the road, ignorant of the panic their presence had created.
The women and those of the men who chose to go were at last brought safely on board, and the Magellanes steamed slowly up the straits towards the colony. Guillaume and I had already started off some time before, and we arrived at the first house in the settlement almost as soon as she arrived abreast of the pier.