The Gold Diggings of Cape Horn: A Study of Life in Tierra del Fuego and Patagonia — John Shaqi
The Gold Diggings of Cape Horn: A Study of Life in Tierra del Fuego and PatagoniaSpears, John Randolph
History
The Gold Diggings of Cape Horn: A Study of Life in Tierra del Fuego and Patagonia
Spears, John Randolph
Patagonia (Argentina and Chile) -- Description and travel
One of the small boats came alongside with a grocery salesman seeking
orders, and when it went away I went along. It was a clean-lined yawl,
with able seamen at the oars, but it could not travel fast enough to
please me.
I had seen mine camps in the Rockies, and in the deserts of
California--Creede and Death Valley; I had camped with cowboys and
shepherds in Jackson's Hole beyond the Teton Mountains, on the plains of
No Man's Land, and in the forks of the Red River of the South; I was
acquainted with the life of lumbermen in the Adirondacks and the wilds
of Nova Scotia; and I had sailed from the Arsuk fiord in Greenland to
Chicago. But here was a town with pink roofs that sheltered at once the
miner, the prospector, the cowboy, the lumberman, and happy-go-lucky
Jack. What might not one expect in the way of wild life in such a town
as this?
A long wood-and-iron pier furnished a landing for passengers, and at the
head of this stood a new wood and iron hotel, two stories high, and
having a bar-room in the corner next to the pier. I registered there
under the eye of the clerk, who also served as bartender. My
observations of this man were encouraging. He was talking French to one
customer and Spanish to another as I entered. He addressed me in English
when I came in, and then a moment later opened a door behind the bar and
called for hot water in German. Judging from what I saw later still,
when a pretty girl passed, I should say he was not unfamiliar with the
sign language. He also knew how to mix hot whiskeys. After a little talk
about the variety of people in the population of the town, I determined
to take a look at the gambling-houses of the place by daylight, so I
said:
"How many sporting houses in town?"
The barkeeper smiled blandly.
"A plenty," he said; "you'll find the best looking girls in the second
house beyond the postoffice right up this street."
"I meant gambling-houses," said I, "but since you've mentioned sporting
women, how many dance-houses does this place support?"
"One. It's the house I mentioned. Both the girls like to dance, but of
course one of them has to furnish the music. They've got one of
these--how do you call them--pianos that turn with a crank, eh? It's a
fine instrument, I tell you. Of course, if you want to take a chum along
you can get a boy to turn the crank."
"Wait," said I. "What was the number of the biggest gang of cowboys you
ever saw come to town?"
"I suppose as many as twenty."
"Did they have any money?"
"You bet they did."
"And did they spend it?"
"As quick as the Lord would let 'm."
"How many men have you seen coming from the diggings with dust?"
"Half a dozen, maybe. Why?"
"Did they blow in the dust?"
"Well, rather."
"And yet there is only one dance-house in town and that has but two
women in it?"
"That's just the size of it."
"Let us return to the subject of gambling-houses. How many have you?"
"One."
"Do they have big play there?"
"That's what they do--sometimes."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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