In the early part of that same year I had joined the Board of Directors of the Leonor Nitrate Company, and as I was anxious to make myself familiar with the manufacture of Nitrate, at the end of 1907 I accompanied a very old friend of mine, Mr. Reginald Morris, to Chile, for a trip to the Nitrate Fields. Reggie Morris was on the Board of a number of Nitrate Companies and Chairman of the Leonor, and had been out on business to Chile before, so my excursion was made under the most favourable auspices. We started from Southampton on a fine ship, the s.s. Avon, belonging to the Royal Mail Steamship Company, and, after coming in for a very heavy gale in the Bay, arriving successively at Vigo and Lisbon to pick up some 400 emigrants, proceeded on our journey, calling at Madeira, Bahia and Rio de Janeiro on our way,—almost the same route that I had already gone by under sail, the first time I went to sea in the old training frigate, Bristol, some thirty-six years before. There were a number of Argentine passengers on board, most of whom, (as they adore Paris), we had picked up at Cherbourg, where the ship stayed for a few hours after leaving Southampton.
[334]
Nothing of the smallest interest happened on our journey out; the only salient fact that remains in my memory is, that I came to the conclusion that Argentine children, with which the ship swarmed, were the most unruly and badly-brought-up specimens I had ever come across. They made day and night hideous with their noise; their parents and governesses could not exert even the smallest control over them, and I solemnly wished that there had been a new Herod on board to massacre these “innocents.” I just had sufficient knowledge of Spanish to recognise “swear words,” and the language used to the stewards and servants by these afore-mentioned “innocents” would have shocked any of the topmen of my sailing-ship days.
About the middle of the month we arrived at Rio, and were two full days there, so we left the ship and spent the night at a delightful hotel high up the Corcavado Mountains, which is reached by its own little funicular railway. It was midsummer in South America, and I shall never forget the gorgeous views over the harbour from this mountain hotel. It happened to be full moon at the time, so we and our fellow-passengers strolled about in the garden for hours after dinner, quite unable to go to bed, so beautiful was the scene. By the vivid light of a full tropical moon the whole of that wonderful panorama that is Rio Harbour was plainly visible in every detail; indeed so vivid was the moonlight that it was almost possible to see colour in the hibiscus that grew like weeds in the garden of the hotel. The next day[335] we had a long morning drive in a most up-to-date motor-car that had been lent to us by Mr. Sheppard, which took us for miles on fine roads bordered by that tropical vegetation that is perhaps more gorgeous at Rio than almost anywhere.
The mention of our drive in Mr. Sheppard’s car reminds me that that gentleman, who is so well known in South America as being, amongst other things, Managing Director of perhaps the most successful industry outside the United Kingdom, was a sort of “Fairy Godmother” to us during our stay at Rio. He met us when we arrived, provided us with motors and steam-launches, entertained us most hospitably, and finally put us on board and saw us off.
By the 25th of November we were comfortably lodged at a very good hotel in Buenos Ayres, where we had to wait until the train,—which in those days, I think, only ran twice a week as an express,—could take us on our way to the frontier.
We were most hospitably received by the Argentine gentlemen for whom we had letters, and were made honorary members of the Jockey Club, a palatial residence about twice the size of Stafford House. Things are done on a large scale in the Argentine. I discovered that the entrance fee for members of the Club was ￡300! One of our hosts was a charming man—Don Carlos Tompkinson, a descendant on one side of that well-known old Cheshire family. He himself was a great racing man, and to my delight made arrangements for us to go out to luncheon at M. Correa’s stud farm, a few miles outside the Capital.[336] M. Correa was the gentleman who had purchased the King’s horse, Diamond Jubilee, for ￡30,000, a year or two before. His stud farm was an enormous establishment, and, in addition to Diamond Jubilee, there were two other very high-class stallions standing there, one of them being that good French horse, le Sancy. To show the scale that M. Correa’s horse-breeding was done on, I happened to say to him that ￡30,000 was a high price, but I supposed that so many subscriptions would be taken to Diamond Jubilee that no doubt the horse would be a paying asset, when, to my surprise, he told me that he took no subscription, and that his three horses were never mated except with his own mares, of which he owned the best part of a hundred.
A few days elapsed and we were in the train that crosses the great Argentine plain that reaches to Mendoza, a fair-sized town at the base of the Andes. At Mendoza we changed to the funicular railway, that in those days only reached as far as Los Quevas, where we found the work on the Transandine Tunnel in full blast. The tunnel has long since been completed, and the line now runs through it direct to the Capital, Santiago de Chile.
At Los Quevas there was a sort of rest-house where we passed the night, and at six the next morning we mounted our mules and rode over the pass, and though it is almost the lowest of the Andes passes, even there a height of 13,000 feet is reached. I had looked forward immensely to the ride, which I expected to enjoy, but all enjoyment was made, more or less,[337] impossible, for, like every one else, I suffered from mountain sickness, which, though it only took, in my case, the form of a splitting headache, was sufficiently disagreeable to discount considerably the pleasure of riding over the Andes.
At this altitude we had, of course, easily reached the snow line, and felt the cold considerably, having been fairly roasted in the train only the day before; but in spite of all these trifling inconveniences, it was an interesting ride, and the scenery was very wild and grand. The mules were good beasts, but, being generally in the habit of carrying packs, preferred to walk on the extreme edge of the mountain paths that we had to ascend, and until one became accustomed to it, there was something rather uncanny in proceeding in single file with one’s outside leg well over the edge of the precipices. But it is quite useless to attempt to argue with a mule, and we soon got used to it. At almost the extreme summit of the pass there is a colossal statue of Our Saviour, which marks the boundary between the two countries of Argentine and Chile, and the descent at once commences. The mules carried us as far as the Chilean village of Huncal, and there the passengers, with their luggage, were trans-shipped into a number of rattletrap carriages which drove at a furious speed down the mountain side to the first railway-station on the Chilean side, where we took train to Santiago, at which place we arrived on the 1st of December.
At Santiago we settled down for a few days at the H?tel Oddo, as there were some business men to[338] interview on the subject of Nitrate Concessions, one of whom was a gentleman who is now well known in London, namely Se?or Augustine Edwards, for he and his charming wife, Madame Edwards, have, for some time past, been representing Chile, at the Chilean Legation in Grosvenor Square. Another leading personage amongst the business men of Chile, whose acquaintance I was fortunate enough to make out there, was Se?or Merry del Val, a brother of the well-known Cardinal of that name, another brother of the same family being Don Alfonso Merry del Val, the Spanish Ambassador at present in London.
Santiago is quite an attractive town, beautifully situated at the base of the Andes, and with every sort of comfort in the shape of a good hotel and an excellent club. At the time, I was much struck with the enormous number of unfinished churches that abounded in the Capital, and naturally wanted to “know the reason why.” I was told,—but whether it is true or not I have not a notion,—that as long as a church is in construction money is sent from Rome to assist in the building expenses, this grant obviously coming to an end when the sacred edifice is completed. Oddly enough, apparently no church ever is finished, so the grant goes on almost to perpetuity. Se non è vero, è ben trovato.
We succeeded in getting a day’s racing at Santiago before leaving for Valparaiso to embark for Iquique, the principal Nitrate Port on the Chilean coast. There is so much Spanish blood in the Chilean nation that great punctuality is not to be expected; but even then,[339] it was rather more than one could bargain for, to find that the first race advertised for 2.30, did not start eventually until a little after five!
It was an easy journey to Valparaiso, and after a short stay there we embarked on a coasting steamer that duly conveyed us to Iquique, where we arrived on December 9th, and where the real work of the tour was to commence.
On arriving at Iquique we were met by Mr. Noel Clarke, who, besides being British Consul, was also the head of a large firm which did general trade all along the coast, and was intimately connected with the Nitrate business. Noel Clarke was destined to have a very busy time during the next few months, as will be explained later. Meanwhile, he and his very charming wife took us in at their house near the outskirts of the town, where we lived during our stay at Iquique, in the greatest comfort and in the pleasantest surroundings.
Iquique was not a bad sort of town at all. It boasted of some very respectable public buildings, and, being largely inhabited by English merchants, naturally possessed the inevitable club, race-course, and polo-ground. Its principal source of prosperity really consisted in the anchorage, where steamers and the large sailing-clippers could lie very comfortably waiting for their cargoes of nitrate, the long sea-coast of Chile being, on the whole, very badly off for harbours.
While on the subject of the coast, I must say something about my impressions of the Pacific. I had sailed, in my time, on most seas, but this visit was my first experience of the Pacific Ocean, and I found it extra[340]ordinarily attractive. Though I have never seen it except when it was completely acting up to its name, I have no doubt but what occasional terrific gales occur there, as elsewhere. But what delighted me was the bird and beast life of the coast (I wonder whether a sea-lion is correctly described as a beast?), and the eternal and enormous rollers that never ceased to tumble in. What caused these huge waves remained a mystery to me, for, after days of absolutely flat calm, without a breath of wind, they still came rolling in as majestically as ever. As a general rule, the little patch of smooth water that is to be found inside the protection of the breakwater, that exists at all the ports, is only deep enough for lighters and small craft generally, so the steamers anchor outside and land their passengers in boats. It is quite an exciting moment when the boat reaches the narrow entrance. The usual practice is to wait just outside the passage to the breakwater until three unusually heavy rollers have expended themselves. The three very large ones are invariably followed by a succession of small ones, advantage of which has to be taken at once, and a dash made for the entrance. Meanwhile, sea-birds of every sort and description are wheeling about in a cloudless sky or pursuing their prey in the bluest of seas, and the amiable sea-lions and sea-cows, and such like, loll about on the rocks all around and survey the scene with perfect placidity.
A very few days after our arrival, we started for the Pampas, to pay a round of visits to the different Nitrate establishments in which Morris was interested, and to give me an opportunity of learning something about the[341] industry before visiting, and reporting on, the Leonor, to which place I subsequently had to travel from Antofagasta, a port some little distance to the southward of Iquique. The first part of our journey was done on horseback, the place we were to visit being only some twenty miles from the coast. All the rest of our tour of inspection was done in a small special train, that had been placed at our disposal for that purpose by the courtesy of the Railway Authorities at Iquique.
We (our hostess and host, Morris and myself) started off one afternoon about four, so as to escape the great heat of mid-day, and arrived at our first halting-place in time for dinner after a most delightful ride. The next day, of course, was spent in inspecting the establishment, and, as far as I was concerned, in getting a more finished knowledge of the business. The caliche, as the stuff is called that is extracted by a species of surface mining, is put into crushers and subsequently boiled, the residue turning into a white powdery substance that is the nitrate of sodium required. There is nothing very mysterious about the business, the only real peculiarity of the nitrate fields is that, fortunately for the industry, rain is absolutely unknown there, for a couple of days’ heavy rain would wash all the sodium out of the ground, and the Pampas would then be a desert without the saving presence of an important industry. During the few days I was up in these parts I visited several establishments that were in the hands of English Companies; without exception they were completely run by young Englishmen. These youths,—for they were very little more,—were typical speci[342]mens of Public School boys, who, after being knocked into shape at a Public School, and only being possessed of limited private means, had started as clerks in the various business houses on the coast, and then, as soon as they were considered qualified, had been sent up country to assist in running an officina. At some of these factories there were probably upwards of 600 workmen, mostly Chilénos, men who are of a really fine fighting race, and apt to be extremely turbulent. It made one feel proud of one’s countrymen, to see the admirable way that these young fellows handled their workmen. I fancy what tended more to preserve law and order than anything else, was the introduction of football, to which game the Chileans took very kindly; and when they realised what hard plucky men they were working under,—and nowhere, probably, are these qualities quicker detected than they are at football,—turbulent as they were by nature, and terribly inclined to be too ready with a revolver, it was extraordinary how little trouble they generally gave. One of the questions invariably asked by the visiting Directors was, whether the men had any complaint to make about their treatment by the employers, and whether they made any claim for an increase in wages. In every case that came under my notice the invariable answer was that there were no complaints, and this fact is fully corroborated by a Foreign Office dispatch that I read many months after I had returned to England.
In view of what happened a day or two afterwards, this absence of any apparent motive for trouble becomes a curious and interesting fact. That there had[343] been considerable labour difficulties recently, we knew as soon as we had arrived at Iquique. There had been a strike on the Nitrate Railway Works just before our arrival, but that had been settled, and there was a strike of stevedores at Iquique still in progress, when we left the coast for the Pampas, but as far as the labourers of the various officinas that we hoped to visit, were concerned, we had no reason to suspect any mischief, and our first two or three visits of inspection were made in a time (apparently) of profound peace. It was somewhat of a surprise when, on the 14th of December, only three days after our arrival, it became extremely evident that a serious strike had begun in the Nitrate District, and that the sooner we got............