Argentina from a British Point of View Part 6

Rain fell heavily as we landed at Buenos Aires, two typical _gringos_ (greenhorns), not knowing a word of Spanish. I went to a first-cla.s.s hotel, whose proprietor I had met in England. My first attempt to speak Spanish was in a tram. I asked the conductor to stop; getting out I said, "Mucha grasa" (much fat), instead of "muchas gracias" (many thanks)--then called the man a fool for laughing.

We stopped in Buenos Aires a week and our bill came into hundreds of dollars, which took a big slice off our small means.

We then went to an estancia (farm) in the Province of Cordoba. The estancia was fifty-one miles square, owned by an Argentine family. The manager was a North-American, well known in camp life.

The estancia consisted of three sections, one where I went, another where my brother was, and the other the headquarters.

I was under a young Scotchman. The camp was fifteen miles, with 3,000 cows, 2,000 steers, and 500 mares. There was my companion, one peon (man), a boy, and myself. My house was made of mud walls and floor, a zinc roof, with a little straw. It was cool in summer, but very cold in winter. There was one room for ourselves, where we slept and ate, one for the cook (when we had one), and a kitchen. Under my bed I had a snake's hole; a long black snake came out in the night, and, on hearing a sound, would go back. I did everything to kill it, but with no success. Also I had two kittens which slept in my bed. One night I felt something soft by my feet. I thought it was the kittens, but, putting my hand down, I found my feet covered with blood. I jumped out of bed, and found a young hare half eaten and my sheets covered with blood.

The first thing I had to do was to skin a cow, and it made me feel very uncomfortable to look at the horrid sight. The next day I was sent to fetch the fat from a dead cow. When I got there I could not see any fat and wondered what it was. I saw the intestines and carried them bodily on my new recado (native saddle). My horse got excited and I arrived dead beat. I told my companion I had the fat: then he burst out laughing and said I had got the intestines. Needless to say my recado was the worse for wear.

The food was different from what I was used to, and I felt ill for a time.

In the summer I was up at between three and four, having "mate-cocido"

(cooked Paraguayan tea--the native drink) with a hard biscuit; at eleven, breakfast of puchero (big pieces of meat boiled in a pot), then maize with milk and a biscuit. Sometimes tea at four, but very seldom; supper consisted of an asado and mate at seven or eight o'clock.

I had charge of two valuable stallions--they had a stable of mud and straw.

At branding time the capataz (foreman) came up with his men for a week.

Up before three o'clock, quite dark, we branded 6,000 calves, and I enjoyed it.

The Boss seldom came; when he did, his trap would be sure to run over a piece of wire, and then we heard of it; nothing missed him.

Then our cook began stealing provisions from the store box. We changed the locks three times, and each time she bought a key to the same. One night I asked her for some coffee. She said there was none. I could see she had some in a small bag, and I went to fetch it. She took up a knife and threatened me. I soon twisted the knife from her. Our food was bad, my companion was careless, and frightened of her. One day he had a row, and she got the sack, using strong language. We then did our own cooking for eight months: the first one home from camp had to begin cooking.

The meat we got was often green and bitter. All the time we had puchero and asado, and an occasional ostrich egg.

Ostriches swarmed everywhere, and it was good sport la.s.soing them. I found one nest with fifty eggs, laid by different birds. My cooking was rather a failure at first, the smoke was so thick we could not see each other. I was told to cook maize for dinner. I made a big fire, and cooked for three hours, and was then told I had the stallions' maize.

Another time it was very dark; our candles, made of old clothes and grease, had run out. I had made some good soup, and put the pot near the table, then, walking by, put my foot in it: the hot grease made me hop, and took the skin off my foot. Our table was an old greasy box; we had no plates, nor forks, just a big knife. Sometimes, coming in very tired from a hard day, we had no strength to chop wood and make a fire; we just went to bed. Many days we only had an asado and mate. Mate I am very fond of--it is so refreshing and sustaining.

My brother was only eight miles away: his section was under alfalfa, and he had a comfortable house. One dark night, going home from his place, I followed a fence until I came to a cross fence. I was going slowly, when, all of a sudden, my horse stopped dead, and I shot over the fence, the bridle and halter came off, and away went my horse, leaving me to continue five miles on foot.

Bizcachas (like a big badger) were numerous. One day we dug a two-metre hole, and next day found eight live ones. They have teeth one and a-half inches long.

Our nearest village was eighteen miles away, where I met some English friends, and played tennis or had some other amus.e.m.e.nt. I used to start back at 2.30 a.m. to be in time for work. One night I had to cross a big field, without a path or fence for a guide. It was dark, and lightning hard. I made for a light, which I thought was the house. Going for some time, I came to a fence--I was lost. I unsaddled and lay down to sleep, the rain was pouring hard, when I heard a donkey braying, so I shouted, and was answered by a man in a puesto (out-station). The light I saw was a village twelve miles away.

My companion was very slack, and the patrons came up and sacked him.

Then I went to the estancia house for a month, breaking in colts for driving. I felt rather sad at leaving my rough work. It was hard work, but I never had better health.

My Boss then earned $15 per month, and his wife cooked for the men. Now he is one of the richest men in the country.

There was no opening there, so the Boss sent me to a New Zealander who had half a league of camp, all fine stock, good alfalfa and splendid water. He had a big house and I expected I would live well. My first work was to dig up locusts' eggs for a week under a hot sun, with the ground very hard. The Boss was a man of forty-two, very red-faced and extremely rich, but as mean as possible.

Our meals took about six to eight minutes, fast eating; he would watch every mouthful. At tea he would take a lot of milk and give me a little; he finished soon, while I burnt my throat. He allowed me a slice of biscuit for each meal. His cook only got $10 a month.

In the winter we were in bed by six to seven.

His clothes were a disgrace to any peon. He had native trousers that b.u.t.ton at the foot, with top boots, no socks, his heel and big toe were sticking out, no vest, only a shirt and an old hat, where the grease of many years was visible.

He was a splendid worker--I have not seen a better one. We used to catch locusts in a big zinc box pulled by two horses; the locusts were put into sacks, and after being left standing for four days, were carted to the village, where he got 10 cents a kilo. The smell in carting these dead locusts was simply terrible. Then I helped pick ten square of maize, which at first took a little skin off my hands. At branding time we la.s.soed each calf to cut off the horns. I had to sit on their necks, and got smothered in the face with hot blood. The Boss was very proud because his monthly account only came to $12 for four of us: biscuits, sugar, tea, and other things. He sent his clothes once in three months to be washed. He had few friends, no one ever came to visit him, and every Sunday he shut himself in his room. He bought the place for $90,000 and sold it for over double. He was a thorough campman, but so mean. One cold winter 500 cows died of starvation; rather than sell them at a low price he let them starve. The last thing he said was, he was "going to New Zealand to marry an ugly lady, but she has plenty of money." His countrymen called him a disgrace to his country and the meanest in the Argentine.

Then a kind friend found me a place on a well-known estancia in the same province. The manager, the second-manager, and the book-keeper were all Irish, born in the country. I had a good horse, which I rode fifty miles to the estancia.

The second told me to have my food with the peons (men), which was rather disheartening. I tried to eat in the kitchen, but the French cook kicked me out, and for ten months I fed with the peons; they were very good fellows. The second and the book-keeper had meals together. The second-manager did no work: up at half-past eight, he went to the train, had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until tea-time, then went to see the train pa.s.s again and have another drink, and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was only getting a hundred a month.

The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing factories. The trucks were rotten. One night we finished at 11 p.m., after a hard day's work, three of us unloaded 300 quebracho posts in under three hours. I had a French gardener in my room who did nothing else but spit and talk politics.

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--Ma.s.s 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 Ma.s.s, 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 la.s.soed 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 pa.s.sed 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).