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William C. Tetley
Published by Good Press, 2021
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In the morning we started early. The sun was just rising above the horizon as we left the outskirts of San José, and made for the open plain, unbroken, save by the dull grey line which alone seemed to mark the "camino real," or Government road. At eleven o'clock we stopped at a pulperia, or store, for some breakfast, and for fresh horses, which were ready waiting for us. They were a wilder lot this time, and a chestnut and a piebald especially gave trouble, at first refusing to be harnessed. Once started, however, they had nothing for it but to settle down, aided by a free application of the driver's whip. Just before two o'clock we reached Guaycoru, where my journey by diligence ended; this being the nearest point to my friend's estancia. Gathering together my saddle, bridle and light baggage, I entered the pulperia, or store, to enquire in what direction my friend's estancia lay, and how far off it was. The pulpero, or storekeeper, fortunately could speak a little French, which was a great help. He was very polite, pointed out the direction, saying it was only between five and six miles distant, and was situate at the far end of some rocky country which stretched out before us. He offered to supply me with a couple of horses, one for myself and another for my baggage, and to send a rather ruffianly-looking mulatto, half Spanish and half negro, his face badly pitted with small pox, to act as guide, and also to bring back the horses. He soon appeared with a bay, a grey, and a piebald, and I at once occupied myself fitting my saddle and bridle on the former, and not apparently to his satisfaction. The headstall of the bridle was too long, the girths of the saddle too short; but at last I got them to meet, and, slinging my belongings over the back of the piebald and mounting his grey, my attendant made a start, and I followed a few paces behind. Our departure being watched with great interest by the pulpero and his family. We had not gone far when we got in among the rocks, or "sierras," as they were called, lying in long large masses, not very high except in places; although, often rising well above one's head as you rode along through the breaks between. Owing to the shelter thus afforded, this district was noted as being the resort of robbers. The lay of the land favoured these gentlemen, as they could easily hide both their horses and themselves among the rocks during the day, and then go out with the moon at night to kill a young cow, or steal a horse, as their fancy took them. They were not a pleasant lot to have to do with, and I could see that my not understanding Spanish alone prevented my dark-skinned guide from duly expatiating upon the dangers of the road. Meanwhile, the sun was declining, and there was no wind. You could hardly hear a sound, and a weird creepy kind of feeling came over me as we entered a passage between two large rocks, higher and steeper than hitherto, which seemed to twist and turn so that I could not help wondering when and where we were going to come out. Every now and then we came across a few cattle, which made off hurriedly as we approached, and when we happened to see a horse or two they instantly got out of sight round some turn of the rocks, evidently well-known to them, but which seemed to me an all but impossible path. And so we kept jogging along, until the rocks got smaller and fewer, and at length we came out into a piece of open country, where a large flock of sheep were quietly grazing, their faces apparently set, as their custom is at eventide, towards home. About half a mile in front of us was the estancia whither we were bound, quiet and peaceful as I first saw it in the rays of the now setting sun. An azotea, or flat-roofed house, whitewashed outside; near it two large "ombus," a tree much valued for its shade; to the left three or four "ranchos," or huts, the walls of mud, the roofs of a reed called "paja"; on one side a yard for sheep, and on the other a large corral, in which to shut in horses and cattle; it did not look imposing, but I saw it all with interest as being for me a resting place, and with pleasure, for I had now reached the end of my long journey. My friend, Robert Royd, saw me riding up, and came out to welcome me. He had a fall from his horse, and sprained his knee, so was prevented coming in to Monte Video to meet me, as he had hoped to do. I was glad to see him again. I had known him in England when life held out a different prospect for him, and we had neither of us heard of Uruguay. How he came to be located at Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo he could hardly have told you himself. He went out for a voyage to Monte Video, took a fancy to the country and its climate, and to the open-air life, made up his mind to set up as an estanciero in a small way, and here he was. I had now to make the acquaintance of another person, Mr. Henry Marsh, called by the natives Henriquez. He had exchanged life in a merchant's office in London for a similar position in Mexico, where he had met with misfortune. He had drifted down the coast, first to Pernambuco, and afterwards to Monte Video, where he at length found himself without money or friends. Royd happened to come across him, and taking a fancy to him, brought him up country to look after a flock of sheep. He was a pleasant little man, a regular cockney through and through. He became somewhat plaintive whenever he talked of the past, and was apt to be nervous and over-anxious; but he was willing and obliging, and always glad to help in any way he could. He professed to understand and rather to like Spaniards, but he was really in mortal fear of a native, and he never went out far without a large revolver, and also a big knife stuck in his belt behind, neither of which formidable weapons would he have been at all willing to use. When I arrived, a Frenchman, whom we called Pedro, was acting as cook. He was not at all fond of soap and water, nor did he take much pride in the culinary art, for he apparently gave us an endless succession of mutton chops. But however early you wanted to make a start in the morning, he was always ready with hot coffee, and would get you some food at almost any hour of the day. So as our movements were often erratic, there were compensations. A native "peon," or servant, and a boy to get up horses, completed the establishment. As regards the stock, there were the flock of sheep before mentioned, about nine hundred in number, and another larger one of about fifteen hundred, towards the other end of the estancia, at a "puesto," as it was called in the direction, but to the West of the pulperia of Guaycoru, where I had first arrived in the diligence. The country was open there, being outside the "sierras," and a young Englishman called Charles Bent had arranged to take charge of this flock not long before I came upon the scene. He was a nice young fellow, with fair hair and blue eyes. He had a quick temper, but a kind heart. Having learnt farming in England in the usual kind of way, he came out to Uruguay. He had some capital, which he invested in sheep, and renting land up towards the Rio Negro, started on his own account. But he was without South American experience, and he had also bad luck: many of his sheep were stolen, others died of disease, and after about three years his money had vanished, and he was compelled, like others, to earn his living; so he took to the usual occupation of looking after a flock of sheep. He was always tidy and neat in appearance, and had a nice sheep dog, called "Bob," which he had brought with him from England, then little more than a puppy, of which he was very fond. There were seven hundred head of cattle on the place, which fed in a semi-wild state among the rocks, on a stretch of country some three and a half miles long, and half to three-quarters of a mile broad, known as the estancia; as also did a troop of mares and colts, mostly pretty wild. These latter were often difficult to come across, and to run them up into the stone enclosure, or "manga," near the house was no easy matter. We had seventeen riding horses of varied quality, mostly brought up into the wooden corral near the house every morning, so that we might each catch up a horse for the needs of the day. The cattle were very apt to stray outside the boundary of the estancia, and so get mixed up with those belonging to neighbours, often causing annoyance. This was much more the case on the Eastern than on the Western boundary, which was fortunate, as the natives living on that side were not only more friendly, but had better places themselves, and were therefore able to give us more help in keeping the cattle apart. On the Western side the rocks became ever a greater feature of the landscape, with but little open land between, thus forming a suitable resort for "matreros," i.e., people in hiding, of doubtful reputation, with no character whatever to lose. Here was where we had reason to apprehend trouble, should a revolution break out. We each took a turn to "repuntar," or drive in the cattle, which fed together in groups, and the same thing took place with the mares and colts. They also had to be continually turned inwards, and gathered up every now and again into the "manga," or stone enclosure to be looked over. When you had been some time at this work, it was wonderful how keen your eyesight became, and how it adapted itself to your needs. For instance, you could make out cattle and horses at a distance, when the ordinary observer would hardly know they were animals at all. Moreover, your eye became accustomed to tell you whether they were your own or your neighbour's, by their manner of feeding when grouped, their apparent number, and their behaviour when disturbed. Early morning and late afternoon was the time for this work, especially in warm weather, as both horses and cattle were glad to take advantage of the shelter of the high rocks during the heat of the day. We had three dogs, which helped us greatly, as they yelped and barked and chased the cattle to their heart's content. I rather took to this work; there was a kind of excitement about it, as you never quite knew whom you were likely to come across, or what was likely to happen before you got home. At evening, too, if you chanced to be late, there was a certain weirdness about it all: the huge masses of rock casting their grey shadows as the sun fell towards the horizon, and then when it had fully set, a great silence seemed to fall upon everything. Scarcely a sound could be heard in any direction. The "pteru-pteru," or wild plover, ceased his shrill cry, and both bird and beast, active during daylight, quietly sought their rest. Not so, however, those of the night, for when the short twilight was over, and darkness had fairly set in you could hear strange sounds and noises, as if something or other was at work, never seen nor heard during the day, and the short bark of the wild fox would sound out sharp and clear as he sallied forth in search of his prey. Then, indeed, you feel truly glad when the welcome light of the estancia house tells you that you are nearly home. Your horse, too, knows that he is near, that his work for that day at any rate, is done, and he looks joyfully forward to joining his companions, and to a peaceful time till morning. It was usual, once a week, to gather up all the cattle together upon a spot selected for that purpose, where a high post is fixed in the ground, around which when collected the cattle revolve. Upon such an occasion, those who had furthest to go were on horseback soon after dawn, each taking an appointed route, and as he returned driving the cattle in front of him. On this estancia there were special difficulties to contend with, as the high masses of rock enabled here and there a point of cattle to break back unseen, or if you did see them, probably it was at a place where it was difficult to follow them. But the horses were truly wonderful, as they carried you at a gallop over the rocky and uneven ground. They seldom made a mistake; bred among the sierras, they were quite at home there, and you soon learnt to give them their head, and to trust that all would be well. With us this weekly gathering together of the cattle never seemed entirely satisfactory. They never came up together all at one time. One portion or another seemed always to be missing. The long, narrow position of the estancia, and its rough and rocky character probably accounted for this. Moreover, we were always short-handed, and we could not keep any consecutive line as is done in more open country. This was therefore a day of disappointment, and we could not help fearing some of the cattle had been stolen; certainly we did not know where to find them. Royd took this a good deal to heart, for when he bought the herd this trouble had not been anticipated. The fact was the cattle had got rather out of hand, and we also feared animals were being killed on the camp, by "matreros," or fugitive soldiers, of whose existence in the district we were at the time unaware, but who afterwards proved themselves dangerous neighbours. Our sheep never seemed to suffer; on the contrary, they did well; nor was Charles Bent troubled in any way. For this we were thankful, and kept up our spirits accordingly. As to the troop of mares and colts, they had things pretty much their own way. They could gallop like the wind, and go faster over the rough ground than we could, and we were obliged to try and run them up to the manga, or stone enclosure, just as we happened most easily to come across them. The summer, with its long hot afternoons, was now passing, and the early autumn, perhaps the most pleasant time of the southern year, was close upon us. As the weather got cooler, I was continually out among the sierras looking after cattle, and I almost always went alone. I had happened to fasten over a black bowler hat a white "pugaree," with its ends hanging down behind to protect the back of my neck from the sun, and late one afternoon when following a path among the rocks with which I was well acquainted, my horse took a wrong turn. In a few moments, passing from beneath the shadow of a large grey rock to my right, I suddenly found myself in a small open space, about one hundred yards long by thirty wide, where the grass grew green and long, and a tiny stream trickled; quite an oasis in a small way. Here, seated on the ground, their horses saddled and feeding near them, were five men, apparently soldiers, for each had a broad red band round his black felt hat, and a lance stuck in the ground, from which hung the red banner. A fire was already lighted, over which was a large roast, part of a young cow they had lately killed. A kettle was almost on the boil, and they were evidently about to enjoy a meal. Their "arms" and "ponchos" were piled in a heap, but each held either a knife or a short dagger in his hand, and I noticed that two at least carried revolvers in their belts. They were a rough-looking lot, as much surprised to see me as I was to see them. For the moment I hardly knew what best to do. I was quite unarmed, but did not wish to appear nervous or frightened; nor could I make a satisfactory retreat. So I sat on my horse, perfectly still, and then they all got up and surrounded me, gesticulating violently, and pointing to the white covering of my hat, which seemed to be the cause of the annoyance. My feigned composure somewhat calmed their excitement. They told me to hand over my hat and, placing it on a point of rock about fifteen paces distant, succeeded in putting a bullet through it with a revolver, to their great amusement and satisfaction. Meanwhile those who were not shooting tried to frighten me; making signs with their knives that it was all over with me, but seeing I was an Englishman they fortunately had no real motive to hurt me; had they wished to do so, I was completely at their mercy. Being "colorados," soldiers belonging to the Red Party, they chose to assume that the white covering on my hat was a Blanco device; but of course, they knew this was not so. Finally, they allowed me to depart unharmed, returning to me my hat, minus its white covering which they tore in pieces, but still with the bullet hole in it as a proof of what happened. The matter was not much in itself, but it shewed that mischief was brewing, and that it was becoming unsafe to ride about in the rocks alone, more especially if unarmed. From that day forth I also started a revolver, to the proper loading of which I saw carefully before going any distance away. When I got home and related what happened, it did not tend to reassure poor Royd, who was rather in low spirits about things in general. He had moreover heard that afternoon from a passing traveller there was a rumour a revolution had actually broken out. However, a week passed, and we heard no more of it, so we followed our usual occupations, leaving matters to declare themselves. A few days later, when running up a point of mares, we managed to include three colts which hitherto had always eluded us. They were all chestnuts, very wild, very fast, with long flowing manes and tails. Two of them had a broad white blaze, each with two white hind feet. The third was larger than the others, with long, sloping quarters; rather a light chestnut, with a white star on his forehead and nothing more. He had good shoulders and a smooth easy way of slipping along which greatly took my fancy. So I bought him for a nominal sum and handed him over to a decent little native named Severo to break in for me. When he returned the horse to me I found he quite justified my expectations, and although still a bit raw he was easy and pleasant to ride; and I called him Carnival. I also took rather an interest in Severo, who was a beautiful rider, with a good seat and light hands. He could speak a few words of English; where he had learned them I did not know, but he seemed anxious to be communicative, and to teach me a few words of Spanish when I went to see how my horse was getting on. He had lately married, and lived in a rancho, or native hut, only a short distance from our Southern boundary. When I arrived I was invited to sit down on their only chair, placed in the centre of the room, Severo himself sitting on a little wooden stool, while the bride served Matè, a liquid made by pouring boiling water on a couple of spoonfuls of "yerba," a kind of tea grown in Brazil; a favourite beverage among the Spaniards. The Matè is really the gourd in which the tea is served. You suck it into your mouth through a bombilla, or silver tube, which latter, if you are not careful, is apt to get so hot as often to burn your lips. This beverage and the offer of a cigarette is the orthodox form of native hospitality.
One morning a party of soldiers showing Red colours galloped up unexpectedly and took Severo prisoner, with a view to making him serve in the Government forces. Remonstrance was in vain! He had to saddle up his best horse and to start at once. His poor young wife was in despair, and she rode up in tears to tell Royd of her trouble. It was useless to attempt to get him back, so we comforted her as best we could, with the hope that her husband would manage to make his escape at the first convenient opportunity. If he belonged to any political party it was to the "Blancos," with whom his wife's people had always been mixed up. This made the enforced separation a greater trial to both of them. It was fortunate for me that "Carnival" had already been returned to me, or he also would probably have fallen into their hands. That same afternoon a party of "Colorados" called at the estancia to take our "peon," or native servant, for a soldier, but he saw them coming in time, and got away among the rocks and hid himself before they arrived, so they were obliged to go away without him. It was evident the Reds were taking up men not only for the ordinary strengthening of the Government forces, but for some special purpose. This, and the persistent rumour we were constantly hearing of a revolution having broken out in the direction of the "Rio Negro," put us upon our guard, and we took such measures as we could to look sharply after our stock, more especially our horses, and to avoid being taken unawares. We also looked up our arms and ammunition, and considered what we could do for the best in case of any serious and sudden trouble. The position of Uruguay was at this time probably unique in the usual stormy history of a South American republic. Torn by faction and internal strife, peace alone seemed wanting to ensure its progress and prosperity. The many natural advantages, such as a good climate, abundant water, grassy plains, and the beautiful woods which bordered the rivers, rendered it especially suitable for pastoral purposes. Agriculture was as yet almost unknown, except in the immediate neighbourhood of the towns, and was then of the most primitive description. But the land itself was fertile in many districts, consisting of a rich black loam, where crops of wheat and maize would give excellent results, and an abundant yield could be anticipated in suitable situations from a virgin and not easily exhausted soil. The Flores war, which had lasted for three years, had ended in the temporary subjugation of the Blanco, or White Party, and the placing in power of a "Colorado," or Red government. This was not in sympathy with the majority of the people, more especially those engaged in pastoral pursuits, such as the raising of sheep and cattle, headed by the large native land owners, mostly "Blancos," and therefore bitterly opposed to the "Colorados," or "Reds." These latter often had a majority in and near the provincial towns, and especially in Monte Video, the capital. They were led by what may be termed professional politicians, their soldiers being partly made up of paid foreigners, forming fairly efficient infantry, together with a large number of natives, whom they pressed in their service when in power. Some of these, too, received payment, so long as their party possessed sufficient funds, while a great number got very little except their food and arms. Their bands of irregular horse comprised anyone and everyone who had nothing to do, together with what might be termed the scum of the townsmen, who had nothing whatever to lose; least of all their reputation. Moreover, there were certain families, Reds by tradition, whose heads occupied the government posts when the "Colorados" were in power, and whose minor members and hangers-on swarmed in the Public Offices. There were also certain "estancieros" throughout the country, especially up towards the Brazilian frontier, many of them influential and wealthy, whose politics had always been Red, and who were supporters of the "Colorado Party." But they were not nearly so united either in heart or sympathy as were the Blancos, nor did they cultivate the same enthusiasm. The Blancos included the descendants of most of the old Castilian families, who had been the original Spanish Colonists, and they possessed, therefore, a certain aristocratic element, if you could justly so term it, as being part of the inner life of the republic. Their importance and influence, and comparative wealth, accrued mainly from landed property and the countless herds of sheep and cattle which spread themselves far and wide, finding good and abundant pasturage on the rolling and grass-covered plains. While therefore the "Reds" were enabled to maintain themselves in power by means of an ample supply of money, so long as they could control the resources of the republic, popular sympathy in general was with the White Party; indeed, so great was the disaffection and discontent at this particular time, it needed but a spark, as it were, applied to gunpowder to set the whole country in a flame. It only required a real leader, who commanded the full confidence of the native population, to come upon the scene, and to raise high the standard of revolt, for the people to flock to his banner far and wide throughout the country. Thus, as it were in a moment, in a South American republic, is a revolution born and made. Nor can this be wondered at when you consider that intrigue and revolution is but a natural attribute of all populations of purely Spanish descent, and when you come to mingle an Indian and Italian and foreign element, and then try to purify the whole by an admixture of the unruly blood of Spain, the result means a state of general unrest, and a condition of affairs in which the seeds of revolution are for ever present. Another incentive is that during a revolution, horses are looked upon as munitions of war, and may be taken from their owners as required, to be returned and paid for as Providence may permit. Sheep and cattle, too, required for food, may be commandeered by armed troops as necessity requires, a nominal receipt for their value being usually given by the officer in charge, which in all probability will never be paid. All this naturally gives an opportunity to the less honest and self-respecting classes of the community to live a free, roving, careless kind of life at other people's expense. Although natives will tell you they hate the law of conscription which obliges them to serve for a time in the army, this is by no means always really true. Moreover, many of those who are poor are apt to look upon time of war as a means of relief from the necessity for honest toil, always distasteful to the Spaniard of South America. They, moreover, manage to console themselves fairly well for a temporary absence from their home, with a dim and ill-defined hope that if only they have good luck they may possibly come out of it all considerably better off than they went in. One afternoon, a "tropero," or buyer of cattle, rode up to the house to enquire if we had any fat bullocks to sell. He told us he was making up a large troop round about the neighbourhood to take in to Monte Video. Of course, he was full of news about the revolution, and he should not be surprised if war were to break out at any time. As he offered Royd fifteen dollars each for any bullocks which were fat, the latter thought it best to turn anything he could into cash. So it was arranged we should have a gathering together of the cattle on the following day, so as to allow the purchaser to part out what he wished, and he also arranged to stay the night with us. He was a pleasant man, well-dressed, and the silver fittings of his native saddle and bridle were quite magnificent. A little before dawn next morning found us all on the move. The cook had already got hot coffee. Our horses had been tied up the night before, and we saddled up just as day was breaking, and one after another slipped quietly away, each of us taking his appointed line in the general drive up of the herd. The tropero himself did not go, but his two young men lent a hand, we, of course, finding them horses. This morning things went better with us than usual, and twice when the wildest of the bullocks made a rush and tried to break back they were effectively stopped and disappointed. Altogether we had a very good "para rodeo," but few of our cattle apparently remaining behind. Next followed the parting out of the fat animals. A short distance away from the general herd, which kept revolving round a large post placed in the centre of the "rodeo," about a dozen tame animals were stationed, guarded by a couple of young natives. Each fat bullock, as it was selected by the "tropero," was then run out of the herd into this little group, the tropero and his head man commencing operations by running them out himself. It was all very neatly done. They rode quietly in among the cattle, which we kept rounded up on every side. Fixing their attention upon a fat bullock, they placed their horses close up to it, one on either side, and so ran it out with a sudden rush in the direction of the tame animals. Sometimes it refused to be so dealt with, and persistently broke back at all costs. Then the lasso was brought into play, and after it had been lassoed and bullied about it generally thought better of it and did what was required. For this particular work the rider must possess not only skill, but he must be well mounted. His horse must be fast and active on his legs; he must be intelligent, so as to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the work, and he must also have plenty of courage. At the same time he must exercise caution, and thoroughly know his business, otherwise either he or his rider, probably both, may get caught on the horns of the bullock and so come to serious grief. But it is wonderful to see how a good horse will himself enjoy it, and with what marvellous perfection and accuracy he will perform his part. The rider, too, must have good nerves, and above all a firm seat, and an accurate eye for judging distance. As a rule, however, if he is really well mounted, the more he trusts to his horse and the less he worries him the better. Meanwhile, to Royd's gratification, the tropero parted out fifty fat bullocks; quite a good parting for our comparatively small herd, but, as a matter of fact, our cattle did wonderfully well among the rocks if only they were left quiet. They had plenty of clear water, and the grasses which grew there were sweet and nourishing, while in summer time they greatly enjoyed both the shade and shelter. On the following day, Friday, I rode over to the pulperia, or store, at Guaycoru and, as several things were wanted, I took the boy with me, mounted on an old grey horse, across the saddle of which a pair of large saddle bags were slung, in which to carry them. We had not long arrived at the pulperia when a native rode up, mounted on a fine "oscuro," or dark brown horse, with a long flowing mane and tail, his reins, breastplate, and stirrups all mounted in solid silver. He was a good-looking man, something over thirty years of age; a slight but firmly knit figure as he sat on his horse, with the easy, graceful seat of one born almost in the saddle. His wide black "bombachos," or loose trousers, tucked inside high boots, ornamented with silver spurs. The broad-brimmed felt hat, the long "facon," a two-edged dagger, stuck in his belt, and a white silk handkerchief tied loosely round his neck, all betokened the "Spanish caballero," the free, independent life of the horseman on the open plain. Quickly dismounting, he carelessly strolled into the "pulperia," with the usual "Buenos tardes Señores," "Good afternoon, gentlemen." But as he passed me I noticed that he was fully armed, and had also an alert watchful look about him, and the thought passed through my mind that here at any rate was no ordinary man. He talked a few moments to the pulpero, somewhat earnestly, and then came forward, raising his hat, and offered me a cigarette, remarking something about the heat of the afternoon. Soon after, I and the boy, having collected our purchases, mounted our horses to return. Just as we rode round the edge of the outbuildings a dark-skinned individual in somewhat tattered garments rose from a low seat where he had been sitting smoking, and came hurriedly forward. "Did you speak to the Señor with the 'oscuro,'" he asked. "Yes!" I replied, "what about him?" The mulatto smiled and showed his white teeth, and then said, almost in a whisper, "You do not know him! Mamerto Godez! Cuidado! (Beware)."
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