• Abstract and Figures
• Public Full-text

THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF J. Lorenz Sporer IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA W. H. HUDSON " Author of "Idle Days in Patagonia," The Purple Land," "A Crystal Age," Etc. IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA BY W. H. HUDSON AUTHOR or "THE PUBPLE LAND," "A CRYSTAL AQE,' "A SHEPHERD'S LIFE," ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY ALFRED HARTLEY AOT J. SMIT NEW YORK E. P. BUTTON <fc CO, 681 FIFTH AVENUE PUBLISHED 1917, BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY of Smttfca $rtntrt in tfjt nitrt fetatefi College Library PR CONTENTS CHAPTER I. PAGE AT LAST, PATAGONIA! ....... 1 CHAPTER II. HOW I BECAME AN IDLER ...... 18 CHAPTER III. VALLEY OF THE BLACK RIVER ..... 31 CHAPTER IV. ASPECTS OF THE VALLEY ...... 42 CHAPTER V. A DOG IN EXILE ....... 57 CHAPTER VI. THE WAR WITH NATURE ...... 72 CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN PATAGONIA ....... 91 CHAPTER VIII. SNOW, AND THE QUALITY OF WHITENESS . 108 CHAPTER IX. IDLE DAYS . 121 vi CONTENTS CHAPTER X. PAGE BIRD Music IN SOUTH AMERICA 140 CHAPTER XI. SIGHT IN SAVAGES 158 CHAPTER XII. CONCERNING EYES 179 CHAPTER XIII. THE PLAINS OF PATAGONIA 201 CHAPTER XIV. THE PERFUME OF AN EVENING PRIMROSE 229 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait of Author Frontispiece PAGE At last, Patagonia! ....... Chafiar trees ........ Serpent with a Cross ....... Swallows congregating ....... An Indian burial-place ...... The river by moonlight ...... Snow at El Carmen ....... Black vulture ........ Cow and pigs ........ Major and the flamingo ...... Upland geese ........ Damian gives himself up ...... Damian's wife ........ Ctenomys magellanica ....... Calodromus elegans ....... Dolichotes patagonica ....... Calandria mocking-bird Cyphorhinus cantans ....... Gaucho with spectacles ...... Viewing a distant object ...... Magellanic eagle owl ....... The Plains of Patagonia Wakening at dawn ....... The evening primrose ....... vii IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA CHAPTER I AT LAST, PATAGONIA! HPHE wind had blown a gale all night, and I had -* been hourly expecting that the tumbling, storm-vexed old steamer, in which I had taken passage to the Eio Negro, would turn over once for all and settle down beneath that tremendous tumult of waters. For the groaning sound of its straining timbers, and the engine throbbing like an overtasked human heart, had made the ship seem a to and it was tired of the living thing me ; struggle, and under the tumult was peace. But at about three o'clock in the morning the wind began to moderate, and, taking off coat and boots, I threw myself into my bunk for a little sleep. Ours, it must be said, w^as a very curious boat, reported ancient and much damaged; long and narrow in shape, like a Viking's ship, with the passengers' cabins ranged like a row of small wooden cottages on the deck: it was as ugly to look at as it was said to be unsafe to voyage in. i 2 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA To make matters worse our captain, a man over eighty years old, was lying in his cabin sick unto death, for, as a fact, he died not many days after our mishap; our one mate was asleep, leaving only the men to navigate the steamer on that perilous coast, and in the darkest hour of a tem- pestuous night. I was just dropping into a doze when a succes- sion of bumps, accompanied by strange grating and grinding noises, and shuddering motions of the ship, caused me to start up again and rush to the cabin door. The night was still black and starless, with wind and rain, but for acres round us the sea was whiter than milk. I did not step out close to between cabin door ; me, half-way my and the bulwarks, where our only boat was fas- tened, three of the sailors were standing together talking in low tones. "We are lost," I heard one say; and another answer, "Aye, lost for ever!" Just then the mate, roused from sleep, came run- ning to them. "Good God, what have you done with the steamer!" he exclaimed sharply; then, dropping his voice, he added, "Lower the boat- ' ' quick ! I crept out and stood, unseen by them in the obscurity, within five feet of the group. Not a thought of the dastardly character of the act they were about to engage in for it was their inten- tion to save themselves and leave us to our fate- entered my mind at the time. My only thought was that at the last moment, when they would be AT LAST, PATAGONIA! 3 unable to prevent it except by knocking me sense- less, I would spring with them into the boat and save myself, or else perish with them in that awful white surf. But one other person, more experienced than myself, and whose courage took another and better form, was also near and lis- tening. He was the first engineer a young Eng- lishman from Newcastle-on-Tyne. Seeing the men making for the boat, he slipped out of the engine-room, revolver in hand, and secretly fol- lowed them; and when the mate gave that order, he stepped forward with the weapon raised, and said in a quiet but determined voice that he would ishoot the first man who should attempt to obey it. The men slunk away and disappeared in the gloom. In a few moments more the passengers began streaming out on to the deck in a great state of alarm; last of all the old captain, white and hollow-eyed from his death-bed, appeared like a ghost among us. He had not been long standing there, with arms folded on his chest, issuing no word of command, and paying no attention to the agitated questions addressed to him by the passengers, when, by some lucky chance, the steamer got off the rocks and plunged on for a the surf space through seething, milky ;. then, very suddenly, passed out of it into black and com- paratively calm water. For ten or twelve minutes she sped rapidly and smoothly on; then it was said that she had ceased to move, that we were stuck fast in the sand of the shore, although no 4 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA shore was visible in the intense darkness, and to m6 it seemed that we were still moving swiftly on. There was no longer any wind, and through the now fast-breaking clouds ahead of us appeared the first welcome signs of dawn. By degrees the darkness less intense of grew ; only just ahead us there still remained something black and un- changeable a portion, as it were, of that pitchy gloom that a short time before had made sea and air appear one and indistinguishable; but as the light increased it changed not, and at last it was seen to be a range of low hills or dunes of sand scarcely a stone's throw from the ship's bows. It was true enough that we were stuck fast in the sand; and although this was a safer bed for the steamer than the jagged rocks, the position was still a perilous one, and I at once determined to land. Three other passengers resolved to bear me company; and as the tide had now gone out, a^d the water at the bows was barely waist deep, we were lowered by means of ropes into the sea, and quickly waded to the shore. We were not long in scrambling up the dunes to get a sight of the country beyond. At last, Pat- agonia! How often had I pictured in imagina- tion, wishing with an intense longing to visit this solitary wilderness, resting far off in its primitive and desolate peace, untouched by man, remote from civilization! There it lay full in sight be- fore me the unmarred desert that wakes strange feelings in us; the ancient habitation of giants, AT LAST, FATAGOXIA! AT LAST, PATAGONIA! 5 whose footprints seen on the sea-shore amazed Magellan and his men, and won for it the name of Patagonia. There, too, far away in the in- terior, was the place called Trapalanda, and the spirit-guarded lake, on whose margin rose the battlements of that mysterious city, which many have sought and none have found. It was not, however, the fascination of old legends that drew me, nor the desire of the desert, for not until I had seen it, and had tasted its flavor, then, and on many subsequent occasions, did I know how much its solitude and desolation would be to me, what strange knowledge it would teach, and how enduring its effect would be on my spirit. Not these things, but the passion of the ornithologist took me. Many of the winged wanderers with which I had been familiar from childhood in La Plata were visitors, occasional or regular, from this gray wilderness of thorns. In some cases they were passengers, seen only when they stooped to rest their wings, or heard far off 1 1 ' ' wailing their way from cloud to cloud, impelled by that mysterious thought-baffling faculty, so un- like all other phenomena in its manifestations as to give it among natural things something of the supernatural. Some of these wanderers, more es- pecially such as possess only a partial or limited migration, I hoped to meet again in Patagonia, singing their summer songs, and breeding in their summer haunts. It was also my hope to find some new species, some bird as beautiful, let us say, as 6 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA the wryneck or wheatear, and as old on the earth, but which had never been named and never ever seen by any appreciative human eye.

Load more

  308

Copy Link