Book: Argentina From A British Point Of View

V >> Various >> Argentina From A British Point Of View




In 1909 we find that 2,008 steamers and 137 sailing-vessels entered the
port of Buenos Aires from foreign shores with a tonnage of 5,193,542,
and 1,978 steamers and 129 sailing-vessels left the port for foreign
shores with a tonnage of 5,174,114; out of these, British boats lead
with 2,242 steamers and 37 sailing-vessels, or, say, 53-1/2 per cent, of
the total.




JUST MY LUCK!


I really have had rather bad luck. As you know, I was wrecked on my way
out from the Old Country. The good ship "Southern Cross" met her fate on
a rock in Vigo Bay, and my luggage met its fate at the same time. This
was something of a blow, but I expected to be treated a little more
kindly by fate when once my destination was reached; I would be a
stranger in a new country, and fate is proverbially kind to tyros of
every sort.

R.M.S.P. "Danube," which carried the shipwrecked passengers of the
"Southern Cross" from Vigo to Buenos Aires, arrived at the Argentine
capital towards the end of January. At the conclusion of my journey, one
of my fellow-passengers, to whom I was saying good-bye, gave me this
sound piece of advice: "Take care of yourself, and the country will take
care of you." I don't suppose I can have taken care of myself, for
within two months I was down with typhoid fever. This is how fate treats
strangers in a new country.

You know that I had the good fortune, shortly after my arrival, to find
employment with the Santa Fe Land Company, and immediately on my falling
ill, the Manager of the estancia sent me to bed, and reduced me to a
milk diet. Two days later he himself took me down to the Buenos Aires
British Hospital, and it is to this fact, and to the sensible treatment
which I received in camp, that I in great measure owe my quick recovery.
The journey to Buenos Aires was made as comfortable as possible. Even
so, however, I must have been slightly delirious, for I remember
thinking that everybody in the train was wearing a pink shirt without
either coat or waistcoat. This must surely have been a delusion.

I reached the hospital on a Sunday morning, and was promptly carried
upstairs to a private ward. Though my temperature was now as much as 104
deg., and my faculties were naturally not at their quickest, I could not
help noticing the cheery look of the ward. There were flowers on the
tables, the patients were obviously well cared for, everything was
scrupulously clean, and the British nurses looked both efficient and
attractive. The scrupulous cleanliness, together with the latest and
most approved methods of treatment, were indeed a feature of the
hospital in all its aspects.

It was a short time afterwards that one of the doctors, after carefully
diagnosing my case, ordered me to the medical ward, where there would be
greater facilities for giving me a course of baths. In the medical ward
my treatment was as kind and as careful as formerly, but my new
surroundings had for the moment a rather depressing effect. I was just
able to realise that the cases around me were more serious than in the
private ward, and that both doctors and nurses were more grave and
intent on their work. I was soon, however, to become delirious again,
and for the next few days was more or less oblivious to my environment.
After a short time I became more alive to what was happening around me.
We typhoid patients had four cold baths daily, and those patients who in
their normal existence were unaccustomed to one warm bath a week were
somewhat inclined to rebel. This was amusing. My sense of humour was
reviving. The company here was certainly more mixed than in the private
ward--consisting as it did of every class and of every nationality, from
Montenegrin to Turk, but it was not on that account any the less
entertaining. Two or three berths away a brawny Scot of monster
dimensions, who was convalescent after an acute attack of rheumatism,
would every night before getting into bed say, with a certain naivete,
and without any sense of proportion, that he was going to his "little
nest." And yet people accuse Scotsmen of a lack of imagination. On
either side of me lay a typhoid patient--each delirious. The one on my
right hand imagined he was at home drinking beer in Plymouth, and the
one on my left, an Italian workman, would persistently call for his
boots. It seemed he wished to return to his work and did not think any
other article of dress necessary. The weather at the time was certainly
hot, and this may have suggested such a daring flaunting of the
conventions. It is curious that among typhoid patients this illusion of
doing some action without sufficient clothing is rather prevalent. I
myself at one time imagined that I had been discharged from the hospital
with only the top of my pyjamas and a travelling rug. As I would carry
the travelling rug on my arm, it scarcely compensated for the lack of
other apparel. Through all these vagaries on the part of the patients
the nurses remained kind and careful as ever. This was especially
conspicuous in one case, where a patient insisted that his nurse was a
Chinese pirate, and behaved accordingly, but she gave her charge the
same excellent attention as before. At this time I began to be troubled
with the pangs of a great hunger. After subsisting for five weeks on
milk alone, my food diet began with small doses of cornflour and with
large doses of castor oil, but at last there came a chicken. I shall
never forget that first chicken, nor the nurse who brought it to me. How
I tore those bones--of the chicken, not the nurse--apart, and how I
attacked them in my fingers so that I should not leave any of the good
meat. Eventually my bed in the medical ward was required for a more
serious case than myself, and I was sufficiently well to be returned to
the private ward for a few days of convalescence. The patients here were
certainly more companionable than in the medical ward, and they suffered
from less grave complaints. They were for the most part victims of
accidents, and were all nearly well enough to leave the hospital. In the
evenings we generally had some sort of amusement among ourselves. The
_piece de resistance_ was more often than not a wrestling match between
the man with the amputated foot and the man who had undergone an
operation for sciatica. As both performers were in ordinary
circumstances compelled to use crutches, their efforts were distinctly
humorous.

It was after two months of medical treatment that I was able to leave
the British Hospital, and it was only when on the point of leaving that
I realised what we Britishers owe to this institution.

The building itself is constructed on the most approved designs, it is
fitted with every modern appliance, both medical and surgical; the
treatment is excellent, the percentage of cures remarkable--not a single
case has been lost in the medical ward during the current year; the
doctors are not only experienced, but efficient; and finally, the
nurses--but perhaps I have already dwelt with sufficient emphasis on
their virtues.

All the same, thank Heaven I return to camp in a week, and may fate deal
more kindly with me in the future.




"THE TACURU."




"THE TACURU."

PATRON SAINT: GEORGE WASHINGTON.




No. 1.

_Saturday, March 26th, 1910._


When we consider the already overstocked journalistic world, and
remember the innumerable papers and magazines which greet one at every
street corner and nestle in every armchair, we feel that an apology is
due to our readers (if any) for our temerity in swelling the overflow of
periodicals, but let us assure you our reasons for putting another paper
on the market are purely altruistic. It is no idea of mere gain, or even
a desire for notoriety that urges us to issue "The Tacuru"; we have
undertaken this responsibility because we know that the world would be
the loser did we refuse to give to the public the highly scientific
impressions formed by an extraordinarily intelligent party of pilgrims
during a unique journey into the wild uncultivated northern lands of the
Argentine, especially as some of the most intellectual (the superlative
adverb is well chosen) members of the band have promised to give their
scientific views on the lands through which we shall pass daily. Though
this expedition is only advertised to last a fortnight, yet we have no
intention of closing our paper at the end of that time, for we are
certain that once the public have been educated to appreciate the
high-class literature and useful information which it will be the aim of
"The Tacuru" to supply, we shall have created a demand and interest
which not even Halley's comet can rival, and we shall endeavour to
satisfy that demand daily. Our only fear was that lest the world should
be kept waiting for the publication of our paper, for though everything
was in readiness yesterday for an early start to-day, the elements
seemed inclined to delay us, and when rain had fallen steadily nearly
all day, The Instigator of the trip was seen to clench his jaw yesterday
afternoon, as he remarked "We cannot start till Monday." This fiat
caused dire consternation; the idea of waiting for two days when all
those carts were packed ready for our immediate outset, filled the party
with annoyance, and had it not been for the fact that The Instigator is
a man not to be trifled with, it is possible remonstrances might have
been raised. But, fortunately, each member of the party only possessed
the angelic variety of temper, so no expostulations were made, and peace
was maintained. This unequalled patience under trials was rewarded, and
great was the joy of the party when at 8 p.m. it was found that the rain
had ceased, and the moon shone forth in such a way as to influence The
Instigator to rescind his decision and declare an early start for
to-day.

Rumour has it that The Jehu and his aide-de-camp and Our Hostess sat up
till 12.30 a.m., finally arranging "places in the carriages, food
supplies, blankets required," and all the innumerable details which made
for the party's comfort.

Before we publish the impressions, contributed by one member of the
band, on to-day's trip, we think our readers might appreciate a slight
character sketch of each of our "Staff." There are nine Pilgrims.

FIRST: _The Instigator_. Well, he's right when you know him, but you do
want to know him first. What possessed him to suggest that we should
trek away north, goodness only knows, unless he was fired by a desire to
imitate the Cook-Peary journeys, or it may have been the celebrated
"Cristobal Cocktails" which inspired him to do great deeds.

We hear that coming out from England he earned a reputation on board
ship as an auctioneer, and once even sold a live lord for a few
shillings to the highest lady bidder. As a camp man he is a marvel,
never seen on horseback, but generally discovered on his hands and knees
fudging about with a thing he calls a pocket microscope, and
occasionally going off into hysterics over some clod of earth, a leaf,
or some weird microbes which he says are feeding on the alfalfa roots.
Talking of feeding, The Instigator can eat anything, his motto is "_tout
jour_"; he has the digestion of an ostrich, and says "it is just as well
to make a good meal while you are about it, for you never know when and
where you will get the next." His best friends cannot say he is musical
(save when others are trying to sleep); but he has a favourite song, and
it is that old music-hall classic entitled "Do, do, be always on the
do." However, he is a very good fellow, and notwithstanding that square
jaw of his, which seems to hint at the possibility of "a man of wrath"
existing in that silent thoughtful being, he is kindness itself to all,
and never fails to do his share of work as it comes along.

SECOND: _Our Guest_. The Wild Man discovered this _rara avis_ in a
railway carriage, babbling for "Kwilmez Beer," so he was brought along,
and he had not been long at the Estancia before he was running first
favourite in the Popularity Stakes. He was always ready for anything,
and it must have been his desire to acquire knowledge which induced him
to come with the party. The Saint has undertaken to explain to him how
colonists thrive on the 8 per cent. system, and to teach him how many
grains of maize make "ocho." We doubt whether she will succeed in the
latter attempt, for we fancy Our Guest will never leave eight grains of
maize uneaten; he is a wonder for that delicacy, and feeds on it
constantly, and we hear rumours that he intends to take some maize cobs
home with him to his native country, and proposes to feed his "team" on
it.

THIRD: _The Delineator._ This is a misnomer, he really should be called
"The Photographer," but that sounds so common, and his views are so
uncommon that we called him The Delineator instead; besides, he always
travels about with maps and charts (his own, or someone else's) and when
appealed to as to what course we should take, replies in a cold, hard
voice, "North by North, just as she goes." Like the rest of the party,
he has never travelled quite the road we are going now, but the prospect
of collecting a few new varieties of butterflies, moths, insects, and
plants caused his eyes to light up with a wild gleam when he heard of
the trip, and the yarns he spins of things unseen by the ordinary sober
mortal are ever a joy to the listener, and make them whisper, _se non e
vero e ben trovato._

FOURTH: _The Jehu._ There is but one name for a man who handles his
four-in-hand over tree-trunks, tacurus, and tussocks, as our coacher
does. He drives as not even his namesake drove; in rain, in sunshine, in
light, in darkness, over smooth ground or rough, he guides his steeds
with consummate skill and care, which is wonderful to see. After a more
than usually big bump he turns to his passengers with a cheery "All
aboard?"; then gives his attention once more to the animals of which he
is so fond, and in which he takes such pride. His knowledge of the
horses he drives is marvellous. The Jehu is a man of great perception
and information, and has a pleasant knack of being able to convey his
knowledge to others. He and The Instigator have great arguments together
which interest all listeners by day, but the discussions are not
followed with quite so much delight by those who are privileged to hear
them at night, when they often degenerate into a snoring competition.

FIFTH: _The Wild Man_--had been driven south by stress of weather and
strikes. We should like to say something nice about him, for he always
carries revolvers, knives, and cameras, but we fear that our kindest
remarks may be misunderstood by one so unused to a quiet civilisation
with no revolutions, so we refrain from all personal comments. This
product of a land of luxuriant vegetation has a quaint penchant for
collecting matchboxes (filled), old boots, deer horns, and any odd
things lying about the camp belonging to himself or other people; still
he is always cheerful and content, never grumbles, and can give valuable
information respecting the ways of the natives who look upon him as a
man and a brother.

SIXTH: _The Chaperon_--has his uses. It will be his business to see that
we are housed, clothed, and fed. The horses and peons will also be under
his care, and if anyone wants to grumble about anything The Chaperon is
the person to abuse. Tent-erecting is what he considers himself to be
very good at; but rumour has it that his best accomplishment is
hairdressing (ladies or gentlemen, English or foreign styles). His
resources know no bounds; he has been seen to fasten up a pair of
leggings with bits of stick. His powers of annexation, both mentally and
materially, are indeed marvellous. He prefers to make his bed on the
bricks or the cold, hard ground, and then enlarges on the comfort
thereof; he generally takes his food standing up, and is always on the
spot ready for any emergency when required.

SEVENTH: _The Saint_--is a lady who will give away anything in her
possession, save chicken or eggs. Just now she is making donations of
pipes, tobacco, handkerchiefs (her own or The Instigator's), and good
advice on matrimony. She is a person of importance, and is very keen on
collecting knowledge which she is always ready to impart to others;
unfortunately, some of her efforts to improve humanity have not been
absolutely successful, but she is never discouraged, and takes up the
next case on the list with equal enthusiasm. Most of us have to thank
her for some good thing or other. She will do her best to keep every
member of the party up to the mark, physically and mentally. Her
accomplishments are numerous.

EIGHTH: _My Lady_--is a general favourite; she will look after the lot
of us in her own gracious fashion. Everyone goes to her for advice,
sympathy, or help, which she is always ready to give. Even without her
tea-basket she would be an absolute necessity for the social success of
the trip, for, as the advertisements say of patent sweepers and the
Encyclopaedia Britannica, "no party is complete without" her, so every
one was glad to hear that she had agreed to accompany the northern
pioneers. Those favoured ones who have seen her "on the boards," whisper
that her histrionic genius is marvellous; we, who are not among the
fortunate number, can only say that if her acting equals her talent for
giving (when required) a really concise, lucid description of anything,
it must indeed be wonderful. Her quotations, too, are so ready and apt,
though occasionally they remind us, by their vagueness, of her namesake
and favourite book.

NINTH: _The Kid_. Why she is brought along, nobody will ever know. It
may have been as a "contrapeso" ("an addition of meat or fish of
inferior quality, thrown in to complete the weight," _vide_ Arturo
Cuyas' Dictionary), but we think she came with the sheep. Anyhow, it was
not until the first part of the journey had been accomplished that she
was discovered bleating in the corner of one of the coaches. We had a
meeting to decide whether she should come on with us or not, and
arranged to put her on the job of tidying up for the trip; but her
hopeless incompetence and ready impertinence to her superior officers,
necessitated instant dismissal without a character. However, as she is
really not worth the trouble of sending back, we locked up the tea tin,
and let her continue the journey on the condition that she will not talk
too much, awake or asleep. With any luck, we may yet lose her somewhere
in the wilds.

* * * * *

The one disappointment expressed by all the party was that Our Hostess
decided not to accompany us on the trip, but to await our return at
Cristobal.

We started out from the estancia house as soon as the ladies' luggage
could be brought downstairs, and we should like to remark, in passing,
that it was a very affecting sight to see Our Guest, The Delineator, and
The Wild Man lifting and carrying heavy boxes and baggage (with no
thought of gain) out to the peons, who, under the able direction of The
Chaperon, loaded them scientifically on to one of the four carts, which,
when ready, were sent on ahead with the nine peons who had been told off
for the trip. Cameras appeared from every available corner as we
prepared to move, and many invaluable photos of the start of the caravan
must have been secured by those who gave us such a hearty send-off. When
at last Our Hostess had put in the final cushion and rug, and provided
us with biscuits and bull's-eyes, and was satisfied that even she could
do nothing more for our comfort, we parted from her with great regret,
promising that she should receive numerous marconigrams concerning our
welfare, and our travels en route. First went off the four-in-hand
driven by The Jehu, who had four members of the party in his care; he
was followed by The Chaperon, who drove a pair, and looked after the
rest of the explorers.

There is an old saying, "Give a dog a bad name and you may as well hang
him." The truth of this saying has never been better exemplified than
in the case of the Chaco, which long held the reputation of being good
for nothing. Rumour had it that the northern land was useless; life was
impossible there for the white man; indeed, it was supposed that cattle
even could not live there on account of the mosquitoes and garrapata;
and Indians were said to be as thick as flies, and equally disturbing.

The Santa Fe Land Company has been one of the pioneers who steadily
fought down these reports, and by showing what good cattle could be bred
there, and what crops grown, has gradually opened up the possibilities
of the northern lands to colonists and investors. Slowly but surely
workers came north, first in fear and dread, but later with confidence,
and now the cry is "They come, and still they come." Before we had gone
far on our journey we had an opportunity of conversing with one lately
arrived colonist. A wonderful crop of maize attracted our notice, and we
stopped to speak to the great, jolly, strong-framed Italian who had
grown it. He has moved up from the south with his wife and family, and
his fellow-workmen. They started ploughing, and though it was late in
the season, he was persuaded to try a catch-crop of maize, with the
result that he has to-day banked $5,000, when he never expected to
secure a chance harvest. And so sure is he that the land will repay all
labour and time expended upon it that he is anxious to take up a league
and colonize it with his fellow-countrymen.

It is the same story all through the northern lands; anyone with pluck,
adaptability and grit can do what this man has done: indeed hard work
and perseverance will as amply reward the labourer in the northern lands
as they have done in the south. The sight of this great crop of valuable
maize, on land which a few months before was a mere waste, brings the
words of the Psalmist forcibly to one's thoughts, for surely of no
country could it more truly be said than of the Argentine, "Dwell in
the land, and be doing good, and, verily, thou shalt be fed"; and
perhaps there are few countries in which there are less openings for the
man whose mind is not set towards "doing good": the Argentine has little
room for the shirker.

[Illustration: _Horses awaiting Inspection._]

The rain of yesterday relieved us from the trials of dust on our
journey, but it also made the going very heavy, and instead of
travelling for the usual two hours before relieving horses, we were
obliged to make an early stop for a change. This is always an
interesting sight, for the animals are so well trained. Our total number
is 87, and when a halt is called, these animals are all lined up in a
row, generally against a wire fence. At the word of command they range
themselves, backed close against the fence in a long line with their
heads outwards. Packed tightly together they await the inspection of
their master, who chooses the animals he requires, and as they are
standing thus they allow themselves to be haltered up and led quietly
away from the line to be harnessed. Their training is wonderful, but it
is really amusing to watch the expression of the horses as they stand in
a row while the selection takes place, they seem to be saying "Please,
sir, not I this time." Where no wire fence is available, the peons
stretch a rope or lasso out, and the horses will line up against that in
the same manner. During our first change of horses, unexpected
excitement occurred. The Saint perceived a plaid horse--at least this is
what she called it, and we believed it to be German for piebald
horse--from which a peon had dismounted. This horse must have reminded
her of the circus-riders of her childhood (or possibly her action was
owing to temporary aberration); anyhow, without a word of warning, she
leapt astride the native saddle and gave a short display of how it
should be done. However, fortunately from her point of view, though
disappointingly from that of the spectators, the piebald animal had not
been trained to circus tricks, and only quietly ambled along for a few
yards, during which time the cameras came into full play. After The
Saint had been persuaded to dismount, and the horses were harnessed up,
an onward move was made, and it was not long before we met our host for
the day. He had ridden to the furthest outposts of his section to join
us, and under his guidance we were conducted to two or three spots,
where The Instigator inspected rodeos of animals in his charge.

We arrived at the Section house of Polvareda about midday, and found
that our host had prepared an alarmingly sumptuous repast for his influx
of visitors: as course followed course, roast ducks dodged the turkey,
and were pursued by plum pudding, etc., we began to wonder if our host
thought that meal would have to last us for the fortnight of our trip.
But we discovered that he came from the West of England, and had not
forgotten the ideas of hospitality current in that part of the world.
Rumour had it that he himself had been seen carrying about pails of
scalded milk at 4 a.m. This proceeding explains the delicious Devonshire
cream and butter we are enjoying.

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.