Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

The Inca Ruins of Cuzco

Tales of Far Peru, Part 6

To reach Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas, one should branch off at Juliaca and take another train. Here, at an altitude of 11,400 ft., the atmosphere is extremely dry and clear throughout the day, but intensely cold o’ nights. To avoid the risk of contracting fever and dysentery travellers would be well advised not to drink any water without first boiling it, or diluting with a little whisky. The best thing, by the way, to drink in the Andes is old Madeira.


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Ruins of the Inca palace of Colcampata of the Manco Capac at Cuzco. Illustration from Adventures in Peru.
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Part of the uncovered Inca wall at Cuzco. Illustration from Adventures in Peru.

About 700 ft. above Cuzco is situated the fine old Inca fort of Sacsahuanan. The illustrations facing page 196 [above] give some idea of the strength of their buildings. Down below stretches the beautiful Huatenay valley. Here almost anything can be planted with the certainty of obtaining most bountiful returns. The soil acts like magic. Some of the loveliest cacti imaginable grow in wild luxuriance. It is said that Humboldt was first seized with a longing to travel when shown some specimens of these amazing plants.

Machu Picchu presents many features of interest to the antiquarian. It was visited in 1911 by an expedition sent from the United States of America, and headed by Professor Hyram Bingham of Yale. Much of the jungle that formerly cumbered the ground has been cleared away, hence the historic ruins are now comparatively easy to view. Machu Picchu is 8200 ft. up, and lies at the foot of a range of mountains bearing the same name, the river running 2000 ft. below. The climate here is simply grand.

Sixteen miles from the coast, round about Payta and Piura, the best pacers in all Peru are to be found. The price of a decent specimen of this famous breed is from 2000 sols to 4000 sols. (about £200 to £400); but for a stallion one must be prepared to pay much more.

The breed originated in the Spanish palfrey, introduced by Pizarro. It is said that up till then the Indians had never seen a horse, and were filled with amazement when one of Pizarro’s men, who had been wounded, fell from his charger. They thought man and beast were one—centaurs in fact. By the importation of the celebrated Koklani strain—the bluest blood of Araby—and high-class thoroughbreds, the pacers have been much improved.

In 1903 I brought from Chile a beautiful chestnut named Dougal. He was by Rodilard out of Clarabella, a St. Mirin mare. Don Julio Subercaseaux practically presented him to the Peruvians as a token of his friendship. I have reason to know his generosity was greatly appreciated by all classes of Peruvian sportsmen. Certainly no horse could be better qualified to add stamina to the famous pacing breed.

Catachaos, six miles from Piura, is a small town where Panama hats are made out of a very fine tough grass which grows in the vicinity. They are very nice, but not to be compared with those manufactured at Monte Christi in Ecuador and Cuenca. On the other hand, they are superior to the hats made in Colombia and Jamaica. The Catachaos hats range from 8s. each to £10. More expensive ones are manufactured, but are only made to order.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

Too Horrible for Words

Tales of Far Peru, Part 5

Lupus is a terrible disease, but Sana is even worse. Sana is a variety of pox that sometimes affects llamas, and is contracted by human beings who come in contact with their sputum. A fruitful source of infection is also the bestial habits of some of the natives. To counteract this menace, the Governments of Peru and Bolivia will not allow Indians to travel with llamas for a period of more than fourteen days unless they take their wives with them. If the natives have a spite against anyone they frequently find means to infect them with this unsavoury disease. It generally manifests itself in unsightly sores and scabs which extend all over the subject’s head till it is a mass of putridity. The Indian remedy is a simple and efficacious one, but few Europeans would care to take it. Some, in fact, would esteem it too horrible for words. Whenever the malady yields to treatment prescribed by ordinary practitioners, the disease leaves behind it remembrancers in the shape of white tufts of hair. The native method is not attended with such distinctive souvenirs.

Some doctors confuse it with syphilis. I can assure them the two maladies are quite distinct, and call for different treatment. Maybe the idea was induced by the fact that syphilis was introduced into Europe by Pizarro’s men, who, it is said, caught it from the Indians of South America.

It is just on the cards that I may bring home to England, one of these days, the carcass of a diseased llama. For I have been approached by the head of a certain tropical hospital, who thinks that if the disease could be exactly diagnosed medical science would greatly benefit. I am quite willing to go and procure a suitable animal, and fetch it over here in the form of Challona, but the cost would be a matter of £500. Perhaps some philanthropic individual will put up that sum in the interests of medical research. If so, the job could soon be carried through.

A certain Englishman of my acquaintance married a girl belonging to a tribe of Mountain Indians, and tried to smuggle her out of the Indian territory. On the border line he was stopped, and ordered to take the girl back to her people. Knowing the penalties attached to disobedience, he lost no time in complying with the command. He was not permitted to return to the outer world for some time. During his detention he got too near a herd of llamas. One of them that was obviously suffering from Sana and savage with pain, spat on his head. Before many days had passed foul-smelling ulcers made their appearance. He consulted several doctors, and they told him he had contracted syphilis. On mentioning the matter to his wife’s father, he said that if the culprit was really sorry he had broken their Indian law, he could soon be cured. The Englishman readily gave the required assurance, and was then taken in hand by the medicine man, who plastered his head with clay and other ingredients. Within a very short time he “got shot” of his malady; but to the day of his death little white tufts of hair denoted where the ulcers had been. He came to Jura for change of air while I was there, and in hopes of enjoying some guanaco hunting, brought his horse with him. During his stay there he pointed out to me a Peruvian miner who was suffering from Sana. Several ugly-looking ulcers were distinctly visible on his head. I asked Morosini to keep an eye on the fellow, and let me know if he derived any benefit from the waters. My friend told me subsequently, that three weeks’ treatment sufficed to render the Peruvian’s cuticle as clean as a baby’s. He made no mention of any white tufts of hair being left behind.

Dyspeptics find relief at Jura. I know one lady who went there on the recommendation of an eminent Italian physician, and after undergoing the cure for three months, she could digest anything.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

Good Old Humpty Dumpty

Tales of Far Peru, Part 4

Two days later I was at Jura. Almost the first person I came across there was Humpty Dumpty. I shall never forget how our acquaintance started. When I was on my way to the Challana country, and had got as far as where one has to think about leaving the Tipuani-Beni road and take to the footpath known only to a few persons that leads to a small tributary of the Challana River, all of a sudden a fellow came riding down a road on our left. He bestrode a fine black mule. Behind him, also a-muleback, came a very good-looking Indian girl, accompanied by two youngsters, one of whom she carried slung across her shoulders; the other—a mite of three summers—was perched on the forepart of the saddle. Two Indians and three cargo mules followed behind.

The stranger gave me a very breezy greeting. “Hulloa! What’s your name? Where do you come from? and where are you agoing to? I’m good old Humpty Dumpty.”

We both dismounted and had a bit of a yarn together. Dumpty said he had just come from the Beni district where he had a store, and filled in his time buying rubber for a man who was backing him up to £10,000, so there was no immediate reason for him to worry about ways and means.

Previously Dumpty had been engineer on one of the P. S. N. Co.’s boats; but had got touched with the gold fever and left his job to go to the Tipuani washings, where he and a fellow named Melville worked with Mackenzie for some time. Then he picked up with Brummagem Joe and became his agent.

When I told Dumpty where I was going, and the purport of my journey, he strongly advised me to turn back. “They will never let you in,” he said, “and you’ll be very lucky if you don’t come to harm.” At this point his wife intervened. “Prodgers is all right,” she said. “They will let him in.” She evidently knew something, but I didn’t press for information; that was forthcoming subsequently.

After we had enjoyed a nice little chat we parted, he going his way and I mine. On my return journey I met him again at the Hotel Guibert, in La Paz. I inquired after his wife. He then told me she was a Beni woman and, as a natural consequence, had to turn back so soon as they reached the Tipuani. He had married her, so I discovered, out of gratitude for curing him of lupus. She used to paint the affected places with a concoction of herbs and earths, a secret remedy of her tribe. I told Dumpty all about Jura, and persuaded him to finish off his cure there.

The following year I went to Jura, and found he had taken my advice. The baths had applied the finishing touch as I had anticipated, and his ear was quite all right. It was, in fact, as clean as a smelt.

By the way, we had an amusing deal together. He asked me to bring him out from England on my next trip a quantity of cheap jewellery for his store. He said he could dispose of it so as to make 1 per cent. profit. “That means 100 per cent. I suppose,” I exclaimed. “No,” he retorted, “1 per cent. What you charge me £1 for, I shall get £5 to £10 for!”

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

Hell for Leather

Tales of Far Peru, Part 3

When I left Antonio’s place to return to Jura, I rode El Pasha. My other horse, Luftibus, was still feeling the effects of a good gallop I had had, three days previously, after guanacos. The hunt had been arranged by Antonio partly for my entertainment, and partly for the sake of his own larder. He had nine big dogs of the crossed deerhound type, just the sort for the job we had on hand.

Our party consisted of Antonio and his two sons, mounted on good mules, a couple of Indians on horseback, and several on foot. The mounted men were all expert bola-throwers, and carried their native weapon with them coiled up ready for use on the peak of their saddles. I was the only rifleman of the company, and had my big-bore Winchester.

One of the Indians notified Antonio that there were some guanacos over the other side of some hills that stretched up to the horizon about three or four leagues away. Our way lay through delightful scenery resplendent with dazzling cacti, but we were all too much engaged in weighing up our chances of a successful hunt to pay a great deal of heed to our sublime surroundings. I rode El Pasha up to the hills and then changed to Luftibus. We were now on the feeding ground of the guanacos and vicuñas, called by the Indians for that reason Los Guanacos. To reach the other side of the mountain range we had to negotiate a rather awkward pass. It was only 12,500 ft. up, but in some respects it was a bit of a teaser. The track was an old Inca path, so narrow that we had to proceed in Indian file. First rode the Indian scout, then came Antonio, next followed my unworthy self, and behind me Poncho carrying my rifle. I took charge of the cartridges, in accordance with my usual custom.

After reaching the summit we rode downhill, a matter of six miles or more, and then came to a part of the High Flats which our scout said was much frequented by guanacos. We continued on our way for half an hour, keeping a bright look-out for any signs of our quarry. Soon we picked up the spoor, and, after following it for another half-hour, saw in the distance a big herd of guanacos. To get within range of them without giving them notice of our approach was a stiff problem. Happily Antonio knew of a convenient gulley that enabled us to outflank the timid animals. This brought us to the border of the High Flats. When we had approached within 300 yards of them, the herd scented us and took fright. I at once dismounted and, sighting my rifle at 300 yards, pulled trigger. By great good fortune I killed one of the guanacos. For my second shot I raised my sight to 500 yards, and let drive. Another member of the herd at once dropped behind his fellows and limped along on three legs, evidently hit pretty hard.

Antonio slipped his dogs, and followed “Hell for Leather,” dinging along at a good hard gallop over an expanse of ground as flat as a billiard table. For full twenty minutes I enjoyed one of the finest rides of my life. Then the dogs got to the heels of the wounded animal, and soon brought it to bay. They had been so well trained that they didn’t attempt to molest it, but simply circled round, barking until their master arrived upon the scene. Antonio at once threw his bola, and entangled the animal at the first attempt. Poncho then ran in and cut its throat.

Five miles at least was, I guess, the extent of our jolly little spin. By the time it concluded, old Luftibus knew that he had done a bit of weight carrying, for I rode about 19 stone.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

Prospecting in Peru

Tales of Far Peru, Part 2

Morosini, himself, first went to Jura to see what the baths could do for him, for he had acute dyspepsia. Under the water’s influence his complaint vanished like smoke before the wind, so he decided to stay at Jura and do a bit of prospecting. He was curious to learn what riches lay hidden beneath the mighty peaks that tower up all round. Gold, silver, copper, and tin indications were plentiful, and vast formations of limestone and quartz hinted of emeralds waiting to be won. Ultimately Morosini resolved to make Jura his permanent abode, so he bought some ground off the Peruvian Government and built himself a fine hotel. (The terms on which he secured the ground were very exceptional. In return he engaged not to charge more than 2½ sols per day for a double-bedded room, nor more than 3½ sols where a person wanted a whole room to himself. These charges included early coffee, ten o’clock breakfast and late dinner. Only lunch was extra, so the accommodation was both good and cheap.)

I once went prospecting with Morosini. Though we weren’t out long enough to get very good results, we found indications of gold in paying quantities. On another occasion my companion was Horne, M. M. Penny’s assayer. With him of course I had to take matters more seriously; still, for all that, I enjoyed myself. We used to start off every day, each carrying a bottle of beer, some soda water, native bread and cold meat; and at the end of our expeditions there wasn’t much likely ground within a fifteen-mile radius of Jura, that we had not investigated. I say “We” out of courtesy, for Horne didn’t care for the sweat of nosing around precipices, and so forth. He preferred to sit and smoke and read, while I did the donkey work. I don’t blame him, as I dare say I should have done the same had our positions been reversed. Anyhow he was able to appraise the samples I obtained on the spot.

My idea in looking round was to take time by the forelock, so that if Penny and Minchin went “off song” on tin, and decided to open out in gold and silver between Titicaca and Jura, I might have some data ready to hand. We happened upon no old mines round Jura, but about fifteen miles from the baths we came across an aged Indian, who put me wise as to the situation of several gold propositions, a bit further off in the direction of Arequipa.

This old boy was a miner by trade, and had for years, so he said, worked a mine on his own. I gathered it was of the placer variety, and located about thirty leagues from where he lived. During the three days I stayed at his house, this Indian gave me much valuable information about mining and mining propositions. At his mine, it was so cold all through the winter months, that he and his assistants had to thaw the ground, by building fires on it, before they could get at the gold. But he had evidently done himself a bit of good over the affair, for he owned lots of llamas and farmed some nice breadths of barley and wheat.

Antonio, my old Indian friend, showed me the kind of clothes he wore during his mining operations. They were made of guanaco skin with the fur inside. Underneath he wore garments knitted of llama wool. His boots came more than halfway up his calves, and were not unlike hunting boots. They were very soft and pliable, made of whole thigh pieces of guanaco skin, fur inside. Over these boots Antonio wore sandals, having very thick soles of bullock hide and tied with gut. Vicuña wool stockings completed the outfit. The Indian women round about where Antonio lives are great hands at making socks. Their workmanship is excellent; but beyond that I think they must treat their yarn in some particular way, for the articles they turn out seem to wear much longer than any other sort. Vicuña socks cost 10s. per pair; those made of llama or sheep wool, only 4s. The vicuñas and llamas easily outlast twenty or thirty pairs of European manufacture. I have never seen them offered for sale in large quantities except at Cuzco, Arequipa, or La Paz.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 14

Back to the Baths

Tales of Far Peru, Part 1

To know Peru well one must not be content to scrape acquaintance only with her barren coast-line which extends from Payta right away to Antofagasta in Chile—past Areca, Iquique, and Pisagua, all formerly part of Peru. One requires to penetrate into the interior. Her innumerable beautiful valleys and plains must be explored, ere one can form a just idea of this lovely and most interesting country. One has only to journey a very few leagues inland, to enter upon lands fertile almost beyond belief. One needs but to plant and irrigate; the wonderful soil does the rest.

Among the places not too far distant from the coast that one can visit with the expenditure of a small amount of energy, may be mentioned Chupa, Arequipa, Mollendo, Jura, Cuzco, the entrancing valley of Huatenay, and the old city of Machu Picchu.

Chupa—Spanish for “suck”—five leagues from Chala, is a great fruit-growing centre. Here are raised amazing quantities of pipless oranges, grenadillas, cherimoyas, paltas, pines, and bananas, all for shipment to Lima. They are conveyed to the coast on mules and pack donkeys, and then put up in baskets. Living is very cheap. In 1921 one could buy sheep and horses on most reasonable terms. The climate is healthy, and the atmosphere beautiful. One can ride all day long without once touching macadam roads—the bugbear of the prairie lover. The country-folk are most hospitable, and will let one have anything in the way of food and fruit at “rock-bottom” prices.

Mollendo, the port for Arequipa, is 7600 ft. above sea-level, and is noted for its fine and invigorating atmosphere. It is a very clean, healthy town, with a grand old cathedral dating back to Pizarro’s time; and there are some very interesting ruins only a few leagues away.

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Façade of Campania Church, Arequipa. Illustration from Adventures in Peru.

Jura is but a couple of hours’ train ride from Arequipa. Its noted medicinal baths, situated 9000 ft. up, are fully described in Adventures in Bolivia. What I have said about the remarkable properties of these truly marvellous baths, is only a tithe of the truth. To all I have written about Jura I would add this. No matter what your complaint, never give up hope until you have given her baths a trial.

Besides the cases noted in my Bolivian book, I was acquainted with many more. Not the least remarkable concerned a rich merchant of Iquique, who kept a large ship-chandler’s store, and also dabbled in nitrate. A martyr to rheumatism and sciatica, he had spent a vast sum of money in trying to get some relief from his complaints. He had visited French and English doctors, and had even gone as far as Russia in order to see whether certain celebrated mud baths would do him good, but obtained only negative results.

At last an English doctor said, “Why not try one of the Inca baths Prescott speaks so highly of in his history of Peru?”

Three or four occurred to the merchant’s mind: Canquenes in Chile, some distance from Santiago; Chillan, sixty miles beyond the town of Chillan; Jura near Arequipa, and Lake Huacachina, by Ica. Of these he chose Jura, and made the best of his way there without further delay, accompanied by his wife, two daughters and a man-servant. When he reached the baths, he was absolutely helpless, and was quite unable to walk without assistance.

The party took up their residence in three cottages belonging to the Municipality of Arequipa. (As regards accommodation and fittings, they were exactly similar to Piccione’s at Huacachina, being, as a matter of fact, modelled from his.) These good people remained at Jura three months. Being an Italian, the man claimed friendship with Morosini who kept the big hotel there, and mentioned my name to him. Morosini told me that the first week his compatriot had to be carried to the baths, by himself and the valet. The second week he was able to walk with hardly any assistance whatever; and the third week, to show what great strides he had made towards perfect convalescence, he danced an Italian hornpipe! In celebration of his cure he gave a dinner at Morosini’s, to which he invited all the Italians who were taking the waters.

Morosini advised him to remain at Jura another month to make assurance doubly sure. “A month!” exclaimed the rejuvenated cripple, “I mean to stay another three! Jura just suits me down to the ground.” So he bought a horse for himself, and a couple of the four-nostrilled donkeys peculiar to the district. Thenceforward he and his Chilian valet were always out and about, exploring the country round Jura, potting duck and partridges, or bent on searching out fresh varieties of cacti, which flourish here as if this and no other place was their true home.

These are indeed magnificent. No words could describe the wonderful sight they present to the eye. I used to visit, every day when I was at Jura, their chief haunts, just for the pleasure of gazing on their loveliness. Imagine blooms, bigger than saucers, all a riot of gorgeous colour. Reds, red and orange, bluish mauve, white, yellow, at a little distance they looked like gigantic beds of opals. Altogether I visited Jura eight times. I always went there to get myself in good fettle for my mining expeditions; and I invariably put in a fortnight on my way back from prospecting, to recuperate, previous to returning to England.

Four months really elapsed before the ship-chandler man bade good-bye to Jura. He said he was perfectly cured, and though, since then, he has written Morosini quite a number of letters, he has never once referred to his old malady, so we must assume the cure was permanent.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 13

Portuguee Joe

On the Cattle Boats, Part 2

Round Pullo and Coro Coro the principal industry is raising stock for Lima. Although little natural grass grows here, the soil is well adapted for maize and barley and alfalfa. It is easy to obtain three crops of alfalfa in fifteen months. Fruit also is very plentiful.

Cattle often start off to Chala in nice fat condition, but, owing to the scarcity of grass before referred to, lose weight on the way down. The cruellest part of this cattle business is, however, that the owners are absolutely callous to the poor beasts’ sufferings, and notwithstanding that they have been practically four days without food, sling them aboard the steamer by their horns and let them get on as best they can for another two days, minus food and water. I remember one noble (!) gent shipping 200 head of cattle to Callao on the Santiago, in which I had consigned twenty-two racehorses, besides two carriage horses and my arab hack. My animals were all well fed twice a day; those belonging to the noble gent got nothing. The latter stood seeing my horses being fed a couple of days, and then about twenty of them broke loose and stampeded. I permitted my lads to assist in recapturing them, on the understanding that I was indemnified against all risks. When we got to Callao the N.G. aforesaid had to pay £200 before he was allowed to unship his cattle.

In my opinion drastic alterations are required. In the first place the animals should be shipped and unshipped as in Venezuela, viz. by making use of flat-bottomed boats and gangways. Hardships would thus be eliminated. As regards feeding, this could be easily managed all the way down from the valley to within fifteen miles of the port of embarkation. Sufficient alfalfa could be loaded up on forage carts which make their own track. Owners would be amply repaid for their extra trouble and expense by the additional money their beasts would fetch.

I once bought forty-four sheep in conjunction with Captain Amy, at Pickut Harbour, Smith’s Channel. At the same time a Frenchman took 800 from the same flock, and at the same price, for Mrs. Noguera. He neither fed nor watered them aboard the ship until two days out, and then only now and then. As a consequence several sheep died on the journey, and the remainder, when they reached Iquique, fetched 2s. less per head than he gave for them. Ours had been properly cared for, and each paid us a profit of 10s. The original price per sheep put aboard at Pickut Harbour was 8s., and freightage to Iquique raised this figure to 13s. When we arrived at our destination, the Frenchman’s uncared-for animals fetched 11s. each, sold by public auction; dealers were content to pay us 23s. apiece for ours, on board. Some difference that!

There is no doubt that the reason why our sheep fetched more than twice as much as the Frenchman’s was the careful manner in which they had been looked after and cared for by the captain, his good lady, and myself. Some of them were pretty sturdy, and that’s a fact.

Talking about Mrs. Noguera, I am reminded of her late husband. Portuguee Joe was something of a character. He had been half-owner of a big whaler and sold his share for £10,000. With the money thus obtained, he embarked in sealing on his own account, and also did a bit of gold digging. All of his profits he invested in sheep lands in Patagonia and at Pickut Harbour. He died a millionaire, and left the interest accruing from his vast possessions to his widow until she married again. Mrs. Noguera eventually hitched up with a captain of the Chilian navy. Before he became a benedict, Portuguee Joe speculated with a butcher named Brown. Said he to him one day, “Give me your daughter in marriage, and I will put some money into your business.” Brown was agreeable, although his daughter was but sixteen years of age, and Joe forty; so the wedding came off. I may add that the firm of Brown and Blanchard is to-day reputed one of the most wealthy in Sandy Point.

Joe and his partner suffered not a little from the peculations of passers-by. This is how Joe put a stop to the thievish practice. He hid behind the doors of their big stall, and whenever he noticed anyone trying to annex any of the meat, he would pop out and discharge a gun loaded with black powder and rock salt at their legs. Once was quite enough, in the majority of instances! The same method was successfully adopted by W. Hunt, a Chilian nicknamed Prussian Bill, who owned the famous racehorse Thunderer.

The captain and I were offered the contract to supply the nitrate fields of that popular sportsman, the late Colonel North, with 800 sheep and from 180 to 250 bullocks every six weeks. Only lack of capital prevented our taking it up.

As with sheep so with mules. I have frequently left Los Andes via Valparaiso with a skinny, decrepit lot en route for Callao by a slow steamer. Before they reached their destination they became quite fat and well. It only shows what a little common-sense treatment will do.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 13

On the Rocks

On the Cattle Boats, Part 1

I made my way back to Lima, after completing my survey, by the same way I had come. The crossing of the forty-eight mile stretch of desert occupied one day. Then we put in two days at the ranch we visited on the outward trail. There I shot a martinette and five parrots for the pot. The valley looked beautiful, all aglow with lovely flowers, interspersed with tropical plants and ferns.

The Indians told me they had been greatly troubled by a tiger since I was last there. I have no doubt in my own mind that what they called a tiger was really a jaguar, only of a much larger species than the ordinary. I had a good hunt round for the marauder, but was not fortunate enough to come across him.

On the morning of the third day we started off early over the last stretch of desert; and after an uneventful journey, arrived at the place at which I purposed to halt, viz. a ranch which I hired of the Indian proprietor for 2s. a day. We rested two nights and a day, and then rode on to the Santa Barbara estate where I was the guest of the manager for four days.

Here I enjoyed some sea bathing, and also rode round inquiring of the West Indians employed by the Sugar Company whether they had any complaints to make. I did this on behalf of my Lima friend and Mr. Beauclerc, the British Minister. It was gratifying to learn that the workers were all satisfied with the treatment accorded them by the manager and his subordinates. All, that is, save one. This man was very cross, because his donkey had been shot by the manager’s orders. It appeared that he hadn’t taken the trouble to tie up his animal at the edge of the plantation as directed; the result was it strayed and did considerable damage to quite a lot of sugar cane. As no notice was taken of repeated warnings, the death penalty was imposed on the donkey, and duly executed. I told the grumbler that it served him right; he had only got what he deserved.

Eventually the Sugar Company had to employ Japanese labour, for the West Indians, though good workers, were bad “stickers”; after a while they developed a habit of taking a day off whenever they thought fit. As a natural consequence the mills had frequently to stand idle for lack of sugar cane.

On the way to Callao we called at Chala, a port thirty-seven miles south from Lima, which supplied every year thousands of small bullocks to Callao and Lima. Round Chala there is a great scarcity of grass, and the animals have to go short, as very little grows beside the road along which they are driven from the beautiful Pullo Valley thirty leagues away, starting not far from Coro Coro.

One of the steamers of the Grace line was named after this town. On a certain occasion when going to the Falkland Islands, intending to ship thence to Iquique, I met Captain Thompson, her skipper. He dined with me and Captain Beelindorf on the Tanis. After dinner we sat smoking and chatting for a considerable time, and Thompson tried to persuade Beelindorf to take advantage of the lovely night and proceed by Smith’s Channel. “Look,” he said, “you could read a paper by the light of the moon.”

“No,” said Beelindorf. “You can do as you like, but I’m not coming. My father is a director and shareholder of the company who owns this ship, and his last words to me were, ‘I’ve got you this job as captain of the Tanis; mind you stick to it, and obey the rules implicitly, especially those imposed by the Assurance Company.’ One of these,” continued Beelindorf, “forbids most emphatically any attempt to travel by Smith’s Channel or Magellan Straits between sunset and sunrise. Therefore I intend to stay where I am to-night.”

Thompson laughed and said he had done the trip altogether forty-two times, man and boy; there was not the least particle of danger hanging to it, and therefore he should go on. Soon after he left us and went aboard his vessel.

Next morning, as I was preparing for my bath, Beelindorf came and invited me to take coffee with him in his cabin.

“After that,” he said, “we must go and see what we can do for old Thompson. He is on the rocks!”

And on the rocks he was of a surety. We found the Coro Coro piled high and dry on a pinnacle-shaped rock, 5 ft. of which had penetrated right up into her hold. Thompson was beside himself, and it took us all our time to calm him down. Under the soothing influence of a stiff brandy and soda he recovered his balance sufficiently to explain how the Coro Coro got cast away. “We were only going half speed,” he said, “when we sighted what looked like land on the port bow. So we steered away from it, and had gone but a very short distance when the boat grounded. What we had seen and tried to avoid was simply the shadow of the land, cast by the deceptive moonlight!”

The long and short of it was that all the cargo had to be unloaded and put ashore. The Coro Coro we had to leave to her fate. Jammed on the rock she remains to this day, and affords lodgment to several Indian families. The owners never recovered a penny of the insurance money; but they forgave Thompson, I am glad to say.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 12

The Brazilian Black Stone

Indian Poisons and Medicinal Plants, Part 6

Some of the most interesting chats I had with Father Francisco in the Nasca Valley, and subsequently aboard ship, had reference to the superstitions and beliefs of the Indians. Francisco had a rich store of information to impart, and he found in me an eager and willing listener. He was no less anxious to hear my experiences in connection with this absorbing subject. The one that he seemed to find most interesting occurred to me on the occasion of my first excursion to Sacambaja to try and locate the Caballo Cunco treasure.

About four hours’ ride from Palca, a little village on top of a hill which one passes through after crossing the river that runs down the other side of the Tunani Pass, I decided to give the cargo mules a rest while I had some lunch. Near by the stone on which I sat was a big rock. I was much surprised to notice that it bore the impress of a delicate female hand. As I pondered over this strange circumstance, an old Indian woman and three younger ones came down the path and stopped opposite the rock. From the old woman I learnt that about thirty years previously, as she was sitting outside her hut not far from this rock, the Virgin appeared to her. She was dressed in white apparel and had a halo round her head. The apparition lasted but a moment and as it disappeared stooped down and pressed one of her hands on the boulder. Next morning the impression was distinctly visible. One of the girls confirmed the old woman’s tale. She had heard it from her father who had witnessed the occurrence. All the Indians in the neighbourhood believed implicitly in the truth of the narrative, and the village priest also vouched for it.

I heard of an incident that was equally inexplicable in the Island of Trinidad, B.W.I., in 1915. Among my acquaintances I numbered one, Father Ambrose, the priest of Arouca and Tunapuna. I frequently visited him. One day he told me of a strange occurrence that had taken place the previous year. He said, “You have seen in our church the figure of the Blessed Virgin?” I assented. “Well,” the Father proceeded, “on the Friday before the Great War commenced, I was engaged in seeing that everything was seemly and in good order, when my attention was attracted to the sacred figure. I distinctly saw tears trickle down its cheeks. I was so astounded that I hurried from the church, jumped on my bicycle, and conveyed the extraordinary news to several members of my flock. They followed me back and witnessed the same amazing spectacle. The flow of tears continued for twelve hours, and then stopped.” Father Ambrose, although a man of the world, was not given to exaggerate. He told me this tale in all seriousness. I bought a photo of the sacred figure, taken at the time, and inspected a document, signed by eight or ten persons, in which the details of this mysterious occurrence were recorded. Arouca is not very far from Port of Spain, and Ambrose was cousin to the Abbot of Mount St. Bernard, a cleric who had migrated with his staff from Pernambuco. Ambrose was a very well-informed man, and I gleaned much information from him concerning various matters in which I felt an interest. He was able, for instance, to give me the history of the Brazilian Black Stone—better known, perhaps, as the Belgian Black Stone—an artificial product that is claimed to be a sure remedy for the bites of snakes, scorpions, etc.

Guavas and cauchus are plentiful in most parts of South America. A wine is made from cauchus much resembling champagne Cliquot. One day the Father was looking around for some of these fruits, when a poisonous snake stung his instep. An Indian immediately took a small quantity of black powder from a box that he carried, mixed it into a paste with his spittle and smeared it on the place. Much to Ambrose’s surprise, it proved entirely efficacious. Not unnaturally he tried hard to find out what the black powder was, but didn’t succeed for two years. Then he was told by a friendly Indian what the ingredients were. Ambrose soon procured a stock, and, after puzzling his brains, managed to fix them up into small stones about the size of a shilling. These he was able to dispose of readily at a dollar a time.

The stone was used in the following manner. When a person was bitten by anything poisonous the place was pricked until a drop of blood appeared. The stone was then applied to the puncture. Within about half an hour it would draw out all the poison. To restore the stone to its original condition, one had to place it in water for twenty-four hours. Soon the poison oozed out of the stone, and came bubbling up to the surface. A thorough soaking in milk was the next and final process. After this the stone was quite fit for use once more.

I can vouch for the efficacy of this stone when used for scorpion bite. Ambrose told me of many instances where it saved people from the evil effects of snake bite. He said all the ingredients were to be found near Arouca; so, being mindful of the main chance, he decided to see whether he could not introduce the stone to a larger clientele. His idea was to form a syndicate of three—himself, a chemist, and a Belgian doctor—and place the stone on the open market in considerable quantities. Half the profits were to go to the chemist. The residue Ambrose intended to divide between himself and the medico. I do not know what measure of success attended the venture. But some of the products got as far as England, for I came across one of the stones at St. Augustine’s College, Ramsgate, and I myself have two. One I applied to my leg when stung by a poisonous insect, with very satisfactory results, and a lady of my acquaintance succeeded in warding off the ill effects of a black scorpion’s bite with one of Ambrose’s products. In appearance the stones closely resemble pieces of blue-black coal, and are not at all like the blue stone sometimes used in agricultural districts for humoury legs.

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Adventures in Peru, Chapter 12

The Women of Tierra del Fuego

Indian Poisons and Medicinal Plants, Part 5

In Tierra del Fuego twenty years or more ago, the paramount Chief refused to permit foreigners to intermingle with his race. Any of his women who connived to break this law were banished. I remember three gold diggers getting into serious trouble, through making advances to some Tierra del Fuegian women. They had come over from Sandy Point. One was English, one Austrian, and the other French. How they came to go to Tierra del Fuego was on this wise. On one of the trading ships a captain named Beelindorf held sway. He had a friend and fellow-countryman named Landorf. This man had sailed with Beelindorf on several occasions. On the first trip he told Beelindorf he had been looking for gold seventeen years, and had struck it rich. Within the previous two years he claimed to have sent £17,000 home. (Landorf always paid for two cabins, one on either side of the passage, so that no one else should come near him.) Well, he went home, came out again, and banked other £15,000 The following year he stayed only five months in Tierra del Fuego, and intended to return with Beelindorf the next trip, having put by yet another £10,000. Then he meant going home for good.

“Where do you get all this red stuff?” inquired Beelindorf. “In the very wildest part of Tierra del Fuego,” Landorf replied. “It took me fifteen years to discover. It’s all alluvial.” Beelindorf asked him the whereabouts of this bonanza, but Landorf refused point-blank. “Find it yourself,” he snarled.

Now Landorf’s good luck got noised abroad, and came to the ears of the three diggers. Deciding to have a shot at it, they interviewed the paramount Chief. That worthy said, “Yes, it is quite true; a Gringo was here last year and found plenty of gold. You are at liberty to go and do likewise; only you must find out the place for yourselves, and you must not interfere in any shape or form with the Indian women. We do not want our blood mixed.”

Of course the diggers were delighted at being thus given practically a free hand, and at first regarded the cautionary advice of the chief respecting his womenfolk. But within a while they get careless, and began to approach some of the Fuegian girls. So soon as the diggers began to talk of love the girls ran away, and reported the matter to their head men. In due course it reached the Chief’s ear. He sent for the offenders and repeated his warning, adding that if they transgressed again it would be at their own risk. The diggers were foolish enough to repeat their offence, not once but twice. Retribution swiftly followed, but in what shape or form one can only surmise. Anyhow the Frenchman and Englishman were never seen again. I may say that the latter came from a place I visited some time after these occurrences took place, and his relatives told me they had never heard of him since. The Austrian was the only one of the three about whom anything definite was ever known. The Fuegians seemed to have put him through the mill pretty thoroughly, and wound up by shaving his head. All the hairs round his forehead they pulled out one by one, and then kicked him out of their country. At Sandy Point he laid a complaint with the gentleman who officiated as Consul for the three countries interested in the matter. But he got no sympathy from the Consul. “No,” said that gentleman, “I cannot interfere. The Chief may do as he likes in Tierra del Fuego. You knew what his regulations were with regard to native women. You were thrice warned not to break them, but disobeyed. Now you must put up with the consequences.”

Another incident affords additional evidence of the attitude the Indians took up in regard to sexual matters. At the foot of the Andes in old priest was pointed out to me as a man who had been engaged on missionary work up the Beni River. One day, much to everybody’s surprise, so said my informant, he arrived back escorted by a guard of Indians. It appears he had so far forgotten his sacred office as to make overtures to an Indian girl. She declined, saying it was against the law of her country, and reported the matter to her people. They took it up with the priest; but he said, “Oh, it is all right, I’m a holy man.” “Holy man or not,” they replied, “we do not tolerate that sort of thing”; and toted him off to his Archbishop. That dignitary reported the result of his inquiry to the head of his Church. His Holiness directed that the culprit should be imprisoned in a monastery for twenty or twenty-five years, I forget which. I saw the prisoner many times and had several chats with him. He was allowed to take exercise in a park that happened to be within a stone’s throw of my establishment.

As regards the Indian law relative to taking their women out of the country without permission, I have already quoted incidents. Another occurs to mind. The foreman of a gang of rubber pickers operating on the Beni district, married one of the local girls and brought her back to Oruro. He had only returned a few weeks, when some of the Indians employed about the place began to make reference to his escapade, and hinted he would be lucky if he escaped serious consequences. The foreman got so “ratted” at what was said that he approached Penny on the subject. Few men were better versed in native customs than M. M. P. He at once recognized the dangerous position in which the man had placed himself, and, accordingly, got him a situation in Chile. There I saw the man and his wife, and talked with them several times. They were both afraid to go back home, because of the penalties that attach to the breaking of the old Indian law.

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