The Purple Land

by W. H. Hudson

  CHAPTER VI

  I spent several days at the colony; and I suppose the life I led therehad a demoralising effect on me, for, unpleasant as it was, every day Ifelt less inclined to break loose from it, and sometimes I even thoughtseriously of settling down there myself. This crazy idea, however, wouldusually come to me late in the day, after a great deal of indulgence inrum and tea, a mixture that would very soon drive any man mad.

  One afternoon, at one of our convivial meetings, it was resolved to paya visit to the little town of Tolosa, about eighteen miles to the eastof the colony. Next day we set out, every man wearing a revolver slungat his waist, and provided with a heavy _poncho_ for covering; for itwas the custom of the colonists to spend the night at Tolosa when theyvisited it. We put up at a large public-house in the centre of themiserable little town, where there was accommodation for man andbeast, the last always faring rather better than the first. I verysoon discovered that the chief object of our visit was to vary theentertainment of drinking rum and smoking at the "Colony," by drinkingrum and smoking at Tolosa. The bibulous battle raged till bedtime,when the only sober member of our party was myself; for I had spent thegreater part of the afternoon walking about talking to the townspeople,in the hope of picking up some information useful to me in my searchfor occupation. But the women and old men I met gave me littleencouragement. They seemed to be a rather listless set in Tolosa, andwhen I asked them what they were doing to make a livelihood, they saidthey were _waiting._ My fellow-countrymen and their visit to the townwas the principal topic of conversation. They regarded their Englishneighbours as strange and dangerous creatures, who took no solid food,but subsisted on a mixture of rum and gunpowder (which was the truth),and who were armed with deadly engines called revolvers, inventedspecially for them by their father the devil. The day's experienceconvinced me that the English colony had some excuse forits existence,since its periodical visits gave the good people of Tolosa a littlewholesome excitement during the stagnant intervals between therevolutions.

  At night we all turned into a large room with a clay floor, in whichthere was not a single article of furniture. Our saddles, rugs, and_ponchos_ had all been thrown together in a corner, and anyone wishingto sleep had to make himself a bed with his own horse-gear and toggeryas best he could. The experience was nothing new to me, so I soon mademyself a comfortable nest on the floor, and, pulling off my boots,coiled myself up like an opossum that knows nothing better and isfriendly with fleas. My friends, however, were evidently bent on makinga night of it, and had taken care to provide themselves with three orfour bottles of rum. After conversation, with an occasional song, hadbeen going on for some time, one of them--a Mr. Chillingworth--rose tohis feet and demanded silence.

  "Gentlemen," he said, advancing into the middle of the room, where, byoccasionally throwing out his arms to balance himself, he managedto maintain a tolerably erect position, "I am going to make awhat-d'ye-call-it."

  Furious cheers greeted this announcement, while one of the hearers,carried away with enthusiasm at the prospect of listening to hisfriend's eloquence, discharged his revolver at the roof, scatteringconfusion amongst a legion of long-legged spiders that occupied thedusty cobwebs above our heads.

  I was afraid the whole town would be up in arms at our carryings on, butthey assured me that they all fired off their revolvers in that room andthat nobody came near them, as they were so well known in the town.

  "Gentlemen," continued Mr. Chillingworth, when order had been at lengthrestored, "I've been thinking, that's what I've been doing. Now let'sreview the situation. Here we stand, a colony of English gentlemen: herewe are, don't you know, far from our homes and country and all that sortof thing. What says the poet? I daresay some of you fellows rememberthe passage. But what for, I ask! What, gentlemen, is the object of ourbeing here? That's just what I'm going to tell you, don't you know. Weare here, gentlemen, to infuse a little of our Anglo-Saxon energy, andall that sort of thing, into this dilapidated old tin-pot of a nation."

  Here the orator was encouraged by a burst of applause.

  "Now, gentlemen," he continued, "isn't it hard--devilish hard, don't youknow, that so little is made of us? I feel it--I feel it, gentlemen; ourlives are being frittered away. I don't know whether you fellows feelit. You see, we ain't a melancholy lot. We're a glorious combinationagainst the blue devils, that's what we are. Only sometimes I feel,don't you know, that all the rum in the place can't quite kill them. Ican't help thinking of jolly days on the other side of the water. Now,don't you fellows look at me as if you thought I was going to blubber.I'm not going to make such a confounded ass of myself, don't you know.But what I want you fellows to tell me is this: Are we to go on all ourlives making beasts of ourselves, guzzling rum--I--I beg your pardon,gentlemen. I didn't mean to say that, really. Rum is about the onlydecent thing in this place. Rum keeps us alive. If any man says a wordagainst rum, I'll call him an infernal ass. I meant to say the country,gentlemen--this rotten old country, don't you know. No cricket, nosociety, no Bass, no anything. Supposing we had gone to Canada withour--our capital and energies, wouldn't they have received us withopen arms? And what's the reception we get here? Now, gentlemen, what Ipropose is this: let's protest. Let's get up a what-d'you-call-it tothe thing they call a government. We'll state our case to the thing,gentlemen; and we'll insist on it and be very firm; that's what we'lldo, don't you know. Are we to live amongst these miserable monkeysand give them the benefit of our--our--yes, gentlemen, our capital andenergies, and get nothing in return? No, no; we must let them know thatwe are not satisfied, that we will be very angry with them. That's aboutall I have to say, gentlemen."

  Loud applause followed, during which the orator sat down rather suddenlyon the floor. Then followed "Rule Britannia," everyone assisting withall the breath in his lungs to make night hideous.

  When the song was finished the loud snoring of Captain Wriothesleybecame audible. He had begun to spread some rugs to lie on, but,becoming hopelessly entangled in his bridle-reins, surcingle, andstirrup-straps, had fallen to sleep with his feet on his saddle and hishead on the floor.

  "Hallo, we can't have this!" shouted one of the fellows. "Let's wake oldCloud by firing at the wall over him and knocking some plaster on to hishead. It'll be awful fun, you know."

  Everybody was delighted with the proposal, except poor Chillingworth,who, after delivering his speech, had crept away on all fours into acorner, where he was sitting alone and looking very pale and miserable.

  The firing now began, most of the bullets hitting the wall only a fewinches above the recumbent Captain's head, scattering dust and bits ofplaster over his purple face. I jumped up in alarm and rushed amongstthem, telling them in my haste that they were too drunk to hold theirrevolvers properly, and would kill their friend.

  My interference raised a loud, angry remonstrance, in the midst of whichthe Captain, who was lying in a most uncomfortable position, woke, and,struggling into a sitting posture, stared vacantly at us, his reins andstraps wound like serpents about his neck and arms.

  "What's all the row 'bout?" he demanded huskily. "Getting up rev'lution,I s'pose. A'right; only thing to do in this country. Only don't ask meto be pres'dent. Nor good enough. Goo' night, boys; don't cut my throatby mistake. Gor bless you all."

  "No, no, don't go to sleep, Cloud," they shouted. "Lamb's the causeof all this. He says we're drunk--that's the way Lamb repays ourhospitality. We were firing to wake you up, old Cap, to have a drink--"

  "A drink--yes," assented the Captain hoarsely.

  "And Lamb was afraid we would injure you. Tell him, old Cloud, whetheryou're afraid of your friends. Tell Lamb what you think of his conduct."

  "Yes, I'll tell him," returned the Captain in his thick tones. "Lambshan't interfere, gentlemen. But you know you took him in, didn't you,now? And what was my opinion of him? It wasn't right of you fellows, wasit, now? He couldn't be one of us, you know, could he now? I'll leaveit to you, gentlemen; didn't I say the fellow was a cad
? Why the devildoesn't he leave me alone then? I'll tell you what I'll do with Lamb,I'll punch his damned nose, don't you know."

  And here the gallant gentleman attempted to rise, but his legs refusedto assist him, and, tumbling back against the wall, he was only able toglare at me out of his watery eyes.

  I went up to him, intending, I suppose, to punch _his_ nose, but,suddenly changing my mind, I merely picked up my saddle and things, thenleft the room with a hearty curse on Captain Cloudesley Wriothesley, theevil genius, drunk or sober, of the colony of English gentlemen. I wasno sooner outside the door than the joy they felt at being rid of me wasexpressed in loud shouts, clapping of hands, and a general discharge offirearms into the roof.

  I spread my rugs out of doors and soliloquised myself to sleep. "And soends," said I, fixing my somewhat drowsy eyes on the constellation ofOrion, "adventure the second, or twenty-second--little does itmatter about the exact number of them, since they all alike end insmoke--revolver smoke--or a flourish of knives and the shaking of dustfrom off my feet. And, perhaps, at this very moment Paquita, rousedfrom light slumbers by the droning cry of the night-watchman under herwindow, puts out her arms to feel me, and sighs to find my place stillvacant. What must I say to her? That I must change my name to Ernandesor Fernandes, or Blas or Chas, or Sandariaga, Gorostiaga, Madariaga, orany other 'aga,' and conspire to overthrow the existing order of things.There is nothing else for me to do, since this Oriental world is indeedan oyster only a sharp sword will serve to open. As for arms and armiesand military training, all that is quite unnecessary. One has only gotto bring together a few ragged, dissatisfied men, and, taking horse,charge pell-mell into poor Mr. Chillingworth's dilapidated old tin-pot.I almost feel like that unhappy gentleman to-night, ready to blubber.But, after all, my position is not quite so hopeless as his; I have nobrutalised, purple-nosed Briton sitting like a nightmare on my chest,pressing the life out of me."

  The shouts and choruses of the revellers grew fainter and fewer, andhad almost ceased when I sank to sleep, lulled by a solitary tipsy voicedroning out in a lugubrious key:

  We won't go--home till morning.