Book: Argentina From A British Point Of View

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The Boss took me to learn shearing. I had to shear, gather the wool,
sort it and pack it up. Each man got five cents a sheep, but it was hard
work, all done by hand.

Then I cut alfalfa for a fortnight--a nice easy job.

A Catholic priest came to stay for eight days--Mass every day at 7 a.m.
and 8 p.m., sometimes three a day. No work at all. Everyone had to
go--the book-keeper did not, so he got the sack. I, as a Protestant,
went to the sermons, which were very good. It was wonderful; these rough
campmen went away quite tamed for a time. The last night the Boss got
married at half-past twelve at night to a native lady. Another time,
while we were at Mass, someone came to say the gardener was dying--we
raced down, the priest in front ready to hear his confession, but when
we got there the gardener was calmly smoking his pipe, greatly
surprised.

An inspector of locusts stopped all the summer. He did nothing but eat,
sleep, and drink whisky. We had locust-killing machines of every
description, but we did not kill ten kilos.

The days I enjoyed were when we started out early to part some animals
in a herd of over a thousand. At eleven we would have an asado and mate,
and give our horses a drink, then finish parting, and get home at
half-past seven. The horses look wrecks, and no good, but they work all
day--mostly galloping--and are splendid stayers.

The Boss's brother, a very nice man of fifty, married a servant of the
Boss, a girl of eighteen.

Great excitement is caused by races. The Boss was keen, and the men
talked of nothing else for days. Every Sunday there are races. Once I
rode my horse bareback in three races of 200 metres, and won a bottle of
beer, a packet of tobacco, and a knife.

Then I was put in charge of fine stock. I had ten Durham bulls, two
thoroughbred stallions, one Pecheron, eight rams and twelve pigs. I had
a boy under me. I also had to saddle up the Boss's and the Second's
horses, and harness the traps. Sometimes I had to wait till eleven at
night, very tired, to unsaddle the Second's horse, as he had been making
love to the Stationmaster's sister.

The work was very interesting and hard, even on Sundays or feast days,
watering, cleaning the animals, and curing any foals that were ill.

I then moved to another room near the stable, with a newly arrived
Italian who knew no Spanish nor English, also an Irishman just arrived.
They could not speak to each other. The Irishman slept on the floor
every night, and poured kerosene all over him to keep insects away. One
day he poisoned five pigs, giving them the dip-water to drink. He had
few clothes. He would turn them inside out, and often had three pairs of
trousers and two shirts on.

One day the Boss was out: the men were taming some wild colts in the
corral. I took French leave and went. I got on five. None had had a
saddle on before or even been handled. We lassoed them, pulled them down
and put on the bridle. Then five men held a long rope and one put on the
native saddle, with stirrups big enough to get your toes in. Then they
tied a red handkerchief round my head. I mounted gently but quickly.
Then the rope was taken off and away the colt went as fast as possible,
with one man on each side to shove you either way, all the time bucking
and plunging. I did not fall, but one stirrup broke. One laid down and
would not move. It tried to bite everyone. When they go fast and buck at
the same time it is very hard to stick on.

On the 25th of May, the great holiday in this country, I went to an
estancia to see some friends. On my way back we had to cross a deep
river. The coachman drove across, but one wheel went into a big hole and
the jerk sent me out on my head, where the wheel passed over my hair,
missing my head by inches. I was senseless. A crowd of women came and
began weeping--they thought I was dead--then I was taken in a procession
to the chemist, who sent me to a hospital, where I found my collar bone
broken. I did nothing for three weeks.

This estancia is a splendid one for learners, because there is a little
of everything. Once I had a month with the threshing machine, sleeping
out with the mosquitoes, and getting meat nearly raw for food; but a lot
of money can be made from the harvest.

Then, after a few weeks' holiday to England, we came back, and I went
down south with my brother to sow alfalfa seed. We had a caravan on
wheels, and learned how to plough and sow. We went to a camp
race-meeting, where every estancia has its own tent, there is racing all
day and dancing at night.

I often look back upon these jolly times. Work was exacted with anything
but kindness, but the life was simple and very healthy, and many
pleasant reminiscences are talked over when it is my luck to join others
around the camp fire before falling to sleep with nothing but a
bullock's head as a pillow and a "recado" as a blanket and the glorious,
starry sky above one.




THE SOCIAL SIDE OF CAMP LIFE.


To an outsider, life in the camps or country might be considered very
slow: the distance between the estancias being so great, the ordinary
form of social life is quite impossible; for instance, when one goes to
pay a call on a neighbour, even a first call, it means going for the
day, starting in the cool of the morning and returning in the evening,
and so allowing the horses to have a rest. Of course, if everyone had a
motor-car, this might not be necessary; but as yet they are very few and
far between. This is no doubt owing to the bad roads; in most districts,
after a few hours' rain, the roads are flooded, and what is worse still,
"pantanosa" (thick, sticky mud).

Most estancieros keep open house, and are only too pleased when people
"drop in," which they do at all times and for any meal, almost without a
"by your leave." An estancia house has to be very elastic, and ready to
provide, at a moment's notice, board and lodging for unexpected guests.
This is quite the nicest way of entertaining one's friends--no fuss of
preparation, and, more often than not, a very jolly evening of cards,
music, or games.

It is a delightful country for men, a healthy, open-air life, with
plenty of hard work and hard riding; each man has from four to six
horses allowed him for working purposes, and then, as a rule (talking of
the English mayor-domo), he has two or three polo ponies of his own.
Sunday is the great day for polo; there is very little time in our busy
Argentine even for a practice game during the week, so Sunday means a
merry meeting of friends wherever there is a polo club in the district,
people going in six or seven leagues (or even more) from one side of
the town to meet friends who have come an equal distance from the other
side, a thing they might not do for months if it were not for the polo
club. Each lady takes her turn in providing tea on these polo Sundays,
and there is great competition as to who makes the best cakes,
especially as it often falls to the lady herself to make these luxuries.

Wherever there is a polo club the most exciting event of the year is the
Spring Race Meeting, two days' racing, often followed by a polo match or
tournament with neighbouring clubs, and always as many dances as
possible, as it is the only time in the year when enough girls can be
collected together; every estancia house has its own party, as many as
can be crowded in, including friends from Buenos Aires and Rosario, who
delight in these camp meetings, and she is a proud hostess who can count
a few girls amongst her party. I may as well add here that girls are
almost "non est" in the camp, many districts for leagues and leagues
round not being able to boast of one English girl.

[Illustration: _Tennis Party at Vera_.]

Most clubs hold a Gymkhana Meeting in the Autumn, which makes one more
excitement in the year: it is a very merry meeting as a rule, with
always a dance or two if enough girls can be found. During the Winter
season (from April 1st to September 1st) the shooting is very good in
most parts, and many good shooting parties are given where there is
enough game to make it worth while asking one's friends. The bag
consists of partridges, martinetta (similar to the pheasant) and hares
(which are not considered worth picking up); when there are a number of
guns, dogs are not used, but two men on horseback drag a wire through
the grass (several in a line, if a big party), which forces the birds to
rise, and the guns walk behind. Peons on horseback, carrying sacks, keep
close up to them and pick up the birds as they fall, and close on their
heels comes a big brake, into which are emptied the contents of the
sacks as they get too heavy. The ladies of the party follow in all sorts
and conditions of vehicles, cheering on the shooters and dispensing
much-needed refreshments. A shoot is always followed up by a jolly
evening, after a hot bath and a good dinner. The men, forgetting how
tired they are, are quite ready to sing, dance, or play bridge until the
small hours. Another great event not to be forgotten is the visit of the
Camp Chaplain: he goes from one district to another holding services,
every Sunday in a different place. In a well-populated district he would
hold one about every two months, but to some places, where there are
next to no English people, he would probably only go about once or twice
a year. Church Sunday is quite an event, and again gives one an
opportunity of meeting friends from a distance. The parson is very
lenient with us as a rule, and does not object to any form of amusement
in the afternoon, such as polo, tennis, cricket, football, or golf, and
encourages the young men to come to _Church_ (usually a room hired for
the occasion) in costumes suitable for such. Our poor Camp Chaplain does
not have an easy time; distances are so great that more than half his
time is spent on the train.

[Illustration: _Carnival at Vera_.]




CARNIVAL IN THE ARGENTINE.


Carnival falls every year during the week before the beginning of Lent.
It is a general holiday, and much fun and amusement are crammed into the
few days which precede the dull season of fasting.

Carnival is more observed in camp towns than in the bigger cities, where
the custom of celebrating it is very much on the wane, and where the law
forbids water-throwing and other such damp forms of amusement, which are
winked at by the more lenient authorities in local towns.

It is really quite a pretty sight to see a camp town during carnival.
The one main street, which does not boast of pavements, and is generally
a yard deep in dust, is gaily decorated with bunting and festoons. Small
stands are put up every ten yards or so, in which the "caballeros" take
up their positions and pelt the "senoritas" with confetti and
"serpentinas" (blocks of different coloured paper which look like rolls
of tape about 30 or 50 yards long). The elite of the "pueblo" drive
round in the procession; ladies, some in the very latest creations, and
some in beautiful fancy dresses, parade round in flower and ribbon
bedecked carriages. A prize is generally given to the best decorated
conveyance, and to the best fancy costume, which causes a lot of
competition and jealousy amongst the fair sex.

On an estancia, carnival is celebrated in a much more drastic fashion.
On one place, the giddy members of the household have a very rowdy time
of it, and make things very lively for the unwary. On one occasion, they
determined to give the mayor-domo his share of the general drenching
which he had missed; so when he rode in at midday, after a long and busy
morning's work in the camp, he was welcomed with a volley of buckets of
water, which were emptied over him from the top of the house, where the
delinquents had taken up their advantageous position.

Another time a certain young damsel, a guest in the same house, saw from
the window her hostess entertaining one of the boys, a fresh arrival
from England, who had ridden over from a neighbouring estancia. Prompted
by her daring friends she was induced to take up a jug of water, and
stealing up behind his chair, emptied the contents of the vessel over
the visitor's head, and then bolted; the injured party, after recovering
his self-possession, rose to the occasion and gave chase, and after a
desperate struggle, and in spite of penitent apologies, she was borne
off by her captor and deposited in the first tub he happened to see,
which turned out to be a freshly painted rubbish barrel.

There is not much respecting of persons on these occasions, the girls
generally combine against the boys, who, as a rule, come off best. The
most binding promises are made on both sides, who vow not to throw
anything larger than a "globo" (a small balloon filled with water, which
bursts when it touches anything solid) or "poms" (leaden squirt full of
scent); but in the excitement of the fray which follows all is
forgotten, and buckets of water, the garden hose, and even the ducking
of some in water troughs, are the final outcome.

The scene after an afternoon or evening's battle is very funny; girls,
with their hair lying in dripping masses over their faces and shoulders,
their dresses, generally the oldest of thin cotton ones, clinging
hopelessly to their wearied forms, present a truly comic sight. When
they are all tired of strife, they retire by common consent to the
house, where, after discarding their soaking garments and taking a warm
bath, they are ready to discuss the glories of the day over a
much-wanted dinner.




HORSE-RACING IN THE ARGENTINE.




HORSE-RACING IN THE ARGENTINE.


In this country a great deal more racing goes on than in Europe, and it
is not confined to the moneyed classes only. Even the "peones" hold
their small meetings and match their grass-fed ponies. Estancieros and
mayor-domos have camp race-meetings once or twice yearly at all the
larger polo clubs, and at Palermo and Hurlingham every class of society
in Buenos Aires may be seen on the stands.

At Palmero race-meetings are held frequently, almost weekly in fact, on
Sunday afternoons; and the stands are generally well filled. On days of
festival, when there is a special programme, the place is crowded, and
these occasions correspond, more or less, with the more important
meetings in England.

The course is of earth, and perfectly flat, so that the only thing which
interferes with the view is dust. The stands are magnificent and the
different grades of society are divided by railings, while at the back
of each may be seen the row of offices of the "Sport," which is the
betting system of the country.

This consists of tickets, which are sold at a fixed price, with the name
of one of the entries. After the race there is a great rush to the
offices, made by those who have bought the winner, to collect their
winnings, which are the total receipts, minus a small percentage,
divided by the number of those who bought the winner. In this way a very
hot favourite will pay very little more than the original purchase
money, while an outsider who wins will pay his backers perhaps ten, or
even twenty times their deposit. There is also private betting, of
course, but no public bookmakers.

The horses are of very good quality, though not up to the standard of
the classic races in Europe. A number of youngsters are imported yearly
from England and the United States, and among them usually some good
selling-plate winners, and one or two that have been placed in
first-class flat races. The country also produces some excellent horses,
and they are improving every year; the stud farms are already well known
in Europe as some of the best in the world. Of these, the most
important, perhaps, is the "Ojo de Agua," so-called from its famous
spring, which waters all the stables as well as dwelling quarters. It is
the home of the famous Cyllene, whose offspring we expect to see winning
races in the near future; Polar Star, scarcely less known, and
Ituzaingo, a native of this country, are his present companions; while
the remains of Gay Hermit, Stiletto, Pietermaritzburg, and Kendal, all
of whom are well known among turf circles at home, rest beneath its
soil. There are several other equally famous stud farms, such as the
"San Jacinto," the present home of Val d'Or, who won the Eclipse Stakes
from Cicero, the Derby winner of that year; at another, Diamond Jubilee,
whose list of victories is long, resided for the latter part of his
life.

Nor are the jockeys unworthy of their mounts, and some very fine riding
may be witnessed both at Palermo and Hurlingham.

In contrast to these races, run on a well-ordered course, and watched
from luxurious stands, are the native "cancha" meetings, held, probably,
at some country public-house, and run on a "cancha," consisting of a
soft piece of road, or along a fence where there are no holes. The races
consist of matches arranged between two ponies, over short distances.
The start is made only by agreement of both the jockeys, and thus many
hours are wasted in their manoeuvres to get the advantage of one another
at the start. If the judges have money on the loser, the race is often
given a dead heat, and has to be run again. The pony of most endurance
has usually the best chance of winning, though the race itself is short,
as his rival may be tired out by repeated false starts. Large sums of
money often change hands at these meetings, as the native is a born
gambler, and understands this primitive method of racing better than the
more complicated systems of the regular course. Owing to this, and to
the competitors' efforts to cheat one another, not infrequently knives
are drawn during the heated discussion which follows the race.

The ponies are, for the most part, taken straight off the camp, though
in some cases they have been fed on maize and trained. They are ridden
either bareback or with the native "recado," and catch-weights: as may
be gathered from the method, it is usually "owners up."

Between these two extreme classes of racing in this country are the
English camp race-meetings, which are held by all the larger polo clubs
once or twice a year. Being of rare occurrence, and as some, if not all,
of the faces are open to members of other clubs, these are among the
chief social gatherings in camp life: in many cases there is a small
polo tournament attached, as it is the best opportunity for those who
come from a distance, and could not come twice. Therefore it usually
means a two or three days' holiday, and often a dance, or some
entertainment in the evenings. Old friends exchange reminiscences, and
new acquaintances are formed; while the ladies also make the best of the
opportunity to put on their smartest frocks and hats.

The races themselves, too, are the source of considerable talk and
excitement: both horses and jockeys are well known by sight or
reputation to the chief part of the company, and any "dark horse" or new
arrival, is inspected with care and anxiety by his rivals.

The class of horse entered varies between the three-quarter bred and the
"criollo" with no pretence to breeding at all, who often carries off the
short polo pony sprints. Occasionally there may be a thoroughbred
entered who has been found wanting at Palermo or Hurlingham, but these
are few and not always successful, as the longest races do not often
exceed about a mile and a-half. As the weights correspond to
steeplechase weights at home the jockeys are practically always
amateurs, and a large percentage of "owners up" is always found. Young
mayor-domos who have never ridden at a meeting before often find
themselves ranged alongside of Grand National riders at the start, and
some amusing incidents have occurred, though there is some very good
amateur riding to be seen as well.

The betting is on a smaller scale generally than at the native meeting,
and is often conducted by someone setting up as a public bookmaker; at
other times a "sport" is formed after the fashion of Palermo. Also the
auction of all entries before the start of the races in the American way
is a great favourite; the total receipts for each race are divided
proportionately between those who bought the winner and "placed" horses.

There is opportunity for a little horse-dealing too, and many good polo
ponies to send home or play in the tournaments have been picked up in
this way. The shorter races for ponies under polo height give an
opportunity to the polo player, and the mayor-domo who cannot train his
ponies for longer distances, to try the mettle of their mounts against
outside and purer blood.

Nowadays most of the entries are trained to some extent, though not
many go to regular training establishments. To have a reasonable chance
of running well in the longer races, however, it is necessary to have
your mounts in stable exercised regularly and fed on corn. It is only
quite lately, however, that even so much training has been adopted at
all generally. In the old pioneer days of English estancias, when these
clubs were formed, they raced ponies taken straight off grass and kept
fit by riding the regular rounds of camp and stock.

There are many tales of the great "rags" that happened in those days,
and curious incidents of racing, too. On one occasion a winner of a polo
pony race was objected to as over height. The measurement was to be
taken after the end of the meeting; and it must be remembered that all
ponies out in the camp are unshod. The man who had come in second went
round to the stables before the measuring and noticed in the winner's
stall a number of large pieces of hoof recently chopped off. The pony
passed with an inch off his forefeet and nothing was said, though it had
been obviously over height. That evening at bridge the owner happened to
win considerably from the man who had lodged the complaint, who, when
the score was to be settled, threw down some pieces of hoof on the table
saying, "Take back your dirty chips."

Nowadays, of course, things are not quite so rough and ready, and most
of the clubs are affiliated, and run under Hurlingham or the Jockey Club
rules, so that good sport and good feeling prevail. In fact the camp man
looks forward to these occasions as the best bits of sport and amusement
that he will get during the year.




SUNDAYS IN CAMP.





SUNDAYS IN CAMP.


In no place is Sunday more looked forward to and enjoyed than in camp.
Holidays on the estancia come but seldom, and were it not for the
welcome break that gives the campman a day of rest every week, his life
would be a round of work, and probably make him the proverbial "dull
boy." All the busy working-days are so filled with the various duties
that when evening comes and dinner is over the tired worker has little
inclination for reading or any other relaxation, the thought of that
early bell which rouses him before sunrise makes him take advantage of
every hour's sleep he can. At an hour when the townman is thinking of
beginning the evening's amusement at theatre or concert, the campman is
sleeping the sound sleep that fresh air combined with hard work never
denies. But on one evening an exception is made to these early hours,
and that is Saturday. With the pleasant feeling of a week's work
completed and the morrow's rest before them, our campmen begin their
weekly holiday by an extra hour or two at billiards or music, or perhaps
a rubber of bridge, turning in with a fervid "Thank goodness,
to-morrow's Sunday." Then the pleasure of waking at the usual hour (4
a.m. or even earlier in summer) and remembering that it is the blessed
Day of Rest, and having time to enjoy the extra hours, then the luxury
of dressing at one's leisure, choosing the collar and most becoming tie
and adjusting them with care, and coming out in spotless white duck or
smart riding breeches, ready to enjoy whatever sport is in season;
tennis is mostly played all the year round; and when birds are plentiful
a shoot on the lagunas attracts the sportsman, the "bag" making a
welcome variety to the dinner table; snipe, partridge, hares, and many
varieties of duck are common in a season that has not been too dry.
Then, to those lucky ones who have a polo club within reach, Sunday
during the winter season is a day of real enjoyment.

The game, which in England can only be played by men of means, can on
the estancia be enjoyed by all at little expense, the useful little
Argentine horses being easily trained to the game. Sometimes one finds a
few enterprising golfers who, with not a little trouble, make a few
"greens" and do a couple of rounds just to keep their hand in, but it is
not a general camp game. It will be seen, however, that the Day of Rest
is not one of idleness, but rather a healthful and beneficial change of
exercise.

Church service enters but seldom into the camp Sunday--such privileges
are rare, although now camp parsons are more numerous than a few years
ago--but at best one can only count on one or two services a year. When
a Church service _is_ held he would be a carping critic indeed who is
not satisfied and pleased with the earnest attention with which the
service is followed and the vigorous singing of hymns and chants in
which all the boys join so lustily; it is a reminder of Home to them,
and the familiar service is thoroughly enjoyed.

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