I drew rein at the foot of the cross. Then I looked at my watch by the light of a match-it was twelve o'clock midnight! I looked at my aneroid barometer-it marked fifteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. I was much higher than the summit of Mont Blanc. All around was a snowy world of perpetual ice-the roof of these "glimpses of the moon," which luminary came out brilliantly for a space and lighted up the savage landscape, flinging strange shadows from the snow-cornices of peaks upon their white façades and terraces, and carrying the eye to where, far, far away, the horizon was lost in the drifting wrack of snow and sky. Lost in contemplation of the scene I rode on, and after a space was interrupted by the voice of one of my assistants. "Señor," he said, "the choza is no longer there"; and gazing disappointedly down upon a plateau far below, where he said it had formerly stood, we observed nothing but bare grass and snow. A black shadow came over the face of the moon, and the pelting rain and snow once more closed in upon us. We had already been twelve hours in the saddle. The Peruvians had sustained their energies with draughts at their bottle of aguadiente, or native brandy, and I did not disdain a mouthful myself. Eight hours at least lay between us and the nearest village-eight hours more of snow and benumbing cold, cramped and weary. I was soaked to the skin; hunger assailed me, and as I rode along I savagely attacked the ham-bone with my teeth. When for a space the snow ceased falling I descended from the saddle and jogged along for miles on foot, leading my mule by the riata, or halter, so in this way restoring the circulation to my cramped limbs; and being a good pedestrian I soon outdistanced my companions. Again I mounted; again the sky grew black, the trail disappeared, and the roaring of a mountain torrent somewhere-perhaps a thousand feet below -fell on my ears. I drew rein suddenly, for I found I was upon the verge of empty space. The mule snorted with fear, and planted his hoofs resolutely upon the rock; and well was it we both acted so, for we had gone off the trail and were poised on the edge of a frightful precipice, as I observed a moment later when the moon came out. Turning cautiously I gave the mule the rein, and with native sagacity At he found the trail again, and I waited for the Peruvians. Two of their animals had failed, and they were walking-a method of advance which the Spanish-American abhors. least I had the advantage of being at home equally in the saddle or on foot, although I denied myself the motivepower of the brandy flask! At last a faint flush appeared in the east as we reached the lowlands-the old sun-god of the Incas had not forgotten his snowy world: "the day-spring from on high had visited us." Before us was a village, and never have I beheld the primitive habitations of man with such satisfaction as then. In the rural official's house we found shelter and fodder and food, and my name was known there (as indeed it was in many parts of Peru, from my travels and articles in the Lima papers). Having given directions for the care of the horses and my own valiant mule, I threw myself upon my rugs and horse-cloths, with my saddle for a pillow, and weary for the moment of the Andes and of the world I was soon in the land of dreams. Y XV CHILE: THE LAND OF THE ENGLISH OF SOUTH AMERICA TARAPACÁ―a name fraught with meaning and history on this vast southward-stretching littoral; these arid, surf-beat reaches of the Great Pacific Coast. I can never pass the barren shores of Tarapacá and Antofagasta without conjuring up the recollection of Grau and Prat: the heroes of the Huascar and the Esmeralda, who, in their death-grappling off this coast, found a sailor's grave and lie fathoms deep below the Pacific rollers. Who were Prat and Grau? you will possibly ask, kind reader. Their names are laurelcrowned in memory on this coast, and will never fade from the minds of their Chilean and Peruvian countrymen. The story of the Huascar is of warning value to all nations whose safety depends upon sea-power, as did the Peruvian of last century, and as does the Chilean to-day-(to say nothing of Great Britain !). The naval fight between the Huascar, the renowned Peruvian ironclad, and her Chilean antagonist during the Pacific War in 1879, was the first clash of armoured vessels which had ever taken place, and was of interest to all the maritime nations of the world. Off these barren coasts of Tarapacá and Antofagasta Admiral Grau of the Huascar kept the whole Chilean army at bay for months, until the Chileans put their own powerful ironclads in order and hunted the brave and persistent Peruvian unit down to the death. When the Huascar was captured Peru, bereft of sea-power, was at the mercy of her antagonist, and the terrible tale of humiliation and bloodshed which her own acts and the avarice of Chile combined brought upon her form the most bloody and terrible pages in the whole history of the Great Pacific Coast. Had Peru possessed a single first-class ironclad even, the issue of the war might have been very different. As it was, the Chileans, who had kept up their navy, invaded Peru, cap 1 See my Peru. |