VII.
IN THE THROES OF REVOLUTION.
The railroad had now been extended from Arequipa to Puno. A revolutionhad broken out and insurgents were cutting the telegraph wires.
I was engineer on a combination locomotive and coach and as thislocomotive will be in the scene of more than one tragedy, I willdescribe it. It was specially designed for the president and officersof the road, weighing only eight tons. On the same frame with theengine, in fact, a part of it, was built a beautiful black walnutcoach, with a seating capacity of from twelve to eighteen persons. Ithad two side doors and one in front, which, when opened, communicatedwith the engineer. There were windows hung with beautiful damaskcurtains, the carpets were of rich velvet, and a center table andseveral cupboards under the seats completed the furnishings. It wasin reality a palace on wheels, named The Arequipena, meaning a nativeof Arequipa. I mention the design of the combination engine-car forthe reason that, on a duplicate of The Arequipena, later occurred oneof the most perilous and tragic events of my life.
The stretch of road from Julica to Cabanillas was level and straight,except about two miles from Cabanillas station, where a heavy side cutand sharp curve was the only obstruction to the view for miles. I wasgoing at the rate of forty miles an hour, when, on nearing this curve,I beheld a large Rogers locomotive with a train of coaches comingtoward me. I cannot describe the thoughts that went through mybrain--there was a terrific crash--flying debris--a hissing ofsteam--mingled with the groans of the wounded and dying.
I was thrown out of the way of the wreck and near the edge of a river,and when I regained my senses a priest was bending over me, bathing myforehead. I gradually realized what had happened and went to myengine. There was scarcely a vestige left of The Little Arequipena,only a piece of the boiler and two pairs of driving wheels. The shockwas so great that the little coach was hurled over the other engine,which was not damaged much.
I saw several persons bending over some one, and, on going closer,found William Cuthbert, our traveling engineer, stretched on theground dying. Five soldiers were dead beneath the ruins. One officer,with his legs broken in two places, begged that others be cared forfirst. The road-master was in agony, his lower limbs frightfullyburned by escaping steam; all the others were more or less seriouslyinjured, except myself. When relief came our dead and wounded weretaken to Arequipa.
We had been sent out to repair the wires, and orders had come to methat we should be given the right of way. The engineer who collidedwith me told me that the commander of the government forces hadordered our superintendent to furnish transportation for his troopsto Puno at once, and when informed that it would be impossible to senda train until we were heard from, he threatened to place thesuperintendent in jail unless his orders were complied with. No one onthe other train was hurt. They had six coaches full of soldiers, thepriest who assisted me being among them.
The day after our arrival at Arequipa the funeral of William Cuthberttook place. The procession was the largest that I had ever witnessedat any funeral in Arequipa, natives as well as foreigners takingpart.
It was a long time before I recovered from the shock, not alone of thecollision, but the death of William Cuthbert who always had been readyto befriend me and who had given me much valuable information. He liesburied in the cemetery at Arequipa, in a vault. A marble slab waserected to his memory.
The general manager sent for me one day to come to his office inArequipa, and after talking over the cause of the collision, I toldhim that I considered him to blame for allowing any engine and trainto go out without knowing first where we were, and that it would havebeen better to have gone to prison, that if he had been sent there theAmerican government would have demanded his freedom, and he would havebeen honored. As it stood, he was to a certain extent responsible forthat dreadful affair. After some more words I left the office,realizing that I had incurred the displeasure of the head officer. Iconcluded to leave, which I was sorry to do, as I looked upon Arequipaas my only home.
I visited Valparaiso and again met Cockney Spider. He was still at hisold business, conducting a runaway sailors' boarding house. A fewweeks later found me in Panama, an engineer on the Panama andAspinwall railroad. The climate, I believe, is the most wretched inthe world, and tropical vegetation grows the rankest. In a few monthsI was stricken with the yellow fever, but thanks to my robustconstitution I soon recovered. About this time I met an official ofthe government railway at Ilo, who desired me to return and accept aposition as engineer on the road. I told him of my troubles in thattown with the officials. He met me soon afterwards, with a contractduly drawn up for eighteen months' service and a guarantee that Ishould not be molested by any petty official.
When I arrived at Ilo, imagine my surprise to find that the man whorowed me ashore was the Italian who caused my arrest. He offered toshake hands but I refused. When I went to the hotel many of my oldnative friends came to see me, and informed me that after I had leftthey discovered the person who did the shooting. It was done by one oftheir own number, who managed to get away.
It was very gratifying to thus have my innocence established, but itdid not recompense for the time I had spent in jail and the loss ofmoney.
I had been running a train out of Ilo about a month, when one night Iwas invited to a "wake." Having never attended one, I accepted theinvitation. At one end of the room stood a large table, and upon itthe body of a child two years old. On its head was a wreath offlowers. The child was dressed in white; in its tiny hands was abouquet of flowers; the feet were encased in small white slippers;lighted candles surrounded the body. At either end of the table wereseveral old women, who were employed by the family as mourners, andthey kept up a continual low moaning sound. Occasionally they wouldstop to partake of wine, and start again, more dismal than ever. Theroom was large and on each side were seated ladies and gentlementalking and laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves. The parents ofthe dead child appeared to have surpassed the expectations of theirfriends and made a great success of the "wake."
There is a custom in Peru that when several persons are gatheredtogether there is constant drinking. A large bottle of wine orwhiskey is placed on the table with one glass. A lady or gentlemanwill fill the glass and drink to the health of some one present. It isbad form to leave any liquor in the glass, so it is always drained,refilled and presented to the one whose health has been drunk. It isan insult to refuse to drink, after one has drank to your health andthe person accepting the glass drinks to the health of some one else.In this manner the glass is constantly on the move. On this occasion,the wine was on the table with the corpse.
About one o'clock in the morning not seeing any disposition on thepart of the guests to retire, I bade our friends good night.
I had barely reached the street when I heard firing and saw peoplerunning. Suddenly there came a volley of musketry, and a woman droppeddead a few feet in front of me. Almost immediately the streets weredeserted, but I could hear the cries of "Vivia Pierola," and I knewanother revolution had broken out.
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