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.

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 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. 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, 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 HÔtel Oddo, as there were some business men to interview on the subject of Nitrate Concessions, one of whom was a gentleman who is now well known in London, namely SeÑor 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 SeÑor 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, 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 extraordinarily 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 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 specimens 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 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 into our train and returned to the coast the better it would be,—the alternative being to be marooned in an officina, where no work was going on, for an indefinite period. Luckily our little special was lying in a siding close by, and off we went just in time, for already the strikers had commenced their march on Iquique. Indeed within a very few hours after the time that our train had returned to that town, many hundreds of them (having very wisely come to the conclusion that marching through the Pampas in midsummer was exceedingly thirsty work), had seized what railway stock they could lay their hands on, and, as many as there was room for, made the journey to the coast by train.

Of course, as is the case in all strikes, in all countries, the usual ineffective promise of protection by soldiers and police was given to the many men who wished to go on with their extremely well-paid work, but the threats and blows of the strikers proved far more effective than Government promises; the line of least resistance was duly taken, and the would-be workers joined the strike. As long as the strikers were on the Pampas they did not behave particularly badly; they did not in the least dislike the managers and staff at the officinas, under whom they worked, and in no case, as far as I know, was any violence or ill-treatment extended to them during the time of their forced inactivity and species of imprisonment, while the railway was in the hands of the strikers; and when our train crawled slowly through them, stopping constantly to avoid accidents, they neither derailed it, nor attempted to take possession of it, either of which they could have easily done, and contented themselves with a certain amount of booing and hissing, which broke no bones. Naturally, any establishment that contained food or drink was at once looted, but beyond that next to nothing in the way of damage to property was attempted.

However, as may be readily imagined, the members of our little party were not sorry to be back on the coast again, to settle down at the Casa Clarke until events had arranged themselves. We had no sooner returned to Iquique on the evening of the 14th, before the news reached us that the strike had become general so far as the Nitrate Fields were concerned, and on the next day some 4000 men, apparently well organised, could be seen marching down from the hills towards the town. It was fairly evident by this time that there was going to be serious trouble, and it is not to be denied that the strike leaders, one of whom was said to be a well-known Spanish anarchist, had chosen their moment well. To begin with, the Intendente of the Province, SeÑor Carlos Eastman, was at Santiago, where he had gone to present his resignation to the President; the General commanding the district, General Silva Renard, and his second in command, were both away in Santiago, leaving the troops in temporary charge of a comparatively inexperienced officer, and he, like all temporary commanders, was extremely averse to taking the responsibility for decided measures; and, by way of making the list of absentees complete, the Prefect of Police was also in the Capital. In addition, as I have mentioned before, the stevedores were also out on strike, so one way and another the position was extremely unpleasant.

At first, the Acting Commandante of the Troops seemed as if he were disposed to enforce order, and when the first lot of strikers from the Pampas arrived in the vicinity of the town, they were headed off by troops to a camp that had been prepared for them on the race-course, and there seemed some prospect of the men returning to the Pampas in trains which the Nitrate Railway Company were very ready to place at their disposal.

Apparently this attitude was only a bluff, for what eventually happened was, (in spite of the assurances given by the Acting Commandante of the Troops and the Acting Intendente of the Province, that the strikers would be prevented from entering the town by the military), that on the next day, the 16th of December, the Pampas strikers, and the transport-workers strikers of the town, joined together, took complete charge of the town, and stopped not only all traffic, but all work of every description, all the shops having been forced to close, and, meanwhile, reinforcements of strikers were hourly arriving from the Pampas, some on foot and others in trains that they had commandeered.

It is hardly necessary to say that, during these days, Reggie Morris and myself, living, as we were, at the English Consulate, knew from hour to hour what was going on, from our host, for we occasionally saw him when he came to his house to snatch a morsel of food. He displayed the greatest energy, and, had his advice been taken by the Authorities, in all probability a great deal of inconvenience, to say nothing of bloodshed, would have been saved. But whenever he requested the Acting Commandante to take certain measures with regard to the railway, which belonged to a British company, his proposals were invariably first accepted, and then never carried out, and when he attempted to confer with the Acting Intendente he was always informed that this great official was either too busy or else asleep, and referred to some one else, who was generally a lawyer interested in local politics.

For the inside of a week the town of Iquique was in a state of subdued chaos. Nothing happened; there were no tramways running, no cabs, no shops open, and, oddly enough, next to no disorder. The market was open for a short time in the morning, whither our intrepid hostess used daily to drive her pony cart, returning with the day’s provisions. There was absolutely nothing to do all day, and, judging from our own feelings, the inhabitants of Iquique must have been slowly dying of intense boredom. As for ourselves, except for an hour or two in the evening when we mounted our host’s ponies and went for a gallop down the coast and round the race-course, occupation we had none.

But meanwhile things were beginning to move at Santiago. Noel Clarke had been in constant telegraphic communication with Mr. Rennie, then the British ChargÉ des Affaires, and received at last the welcome intelligence that the real Intendente, SeÑor Carlos Eastman, accompanied by General Renard, were leaving Valparaiso in the Chilian warship Zenteno, with reinforcements of troops. Very shortly afterwards, another Chilian cruiser, the Esmeralda, arrived, but without the troops, that she was expected to bring.

Though there was but little actual disorder in the town, a number of the more respectable families began to get alarmed, principally owing to the panic-stricken attitude of their servants, a number of the women having taken refuge on board the merchant ships in the harbour. There was some cause for anxiety, the real danger being that of fire. A town like Iquique, largely built of wood, where rain is unknown, and where the water supply depends upon a pipe-line from the hills, is particularly open to danger of conflagration when in the hands of some thousands of strikers, many of whose pockets are known to be stuffed full of dynamite.

The only other amusement, besides the evening ride, was to attend the meetings held by the strikers. Spaniards of all shades are passionately fond of oratory and of the sound of their own voices. I suppose the inherent beauty and sonority of their language fascinates them, and the speeches were endless. I, alas! have very little knowledge of Spanish, so did not understand much, but I gathered from those who knew the language that their eloquence was principally employed in condemning the Government, vituperating the employers, and, what was novel in Chile, preaching an anti-European doctrine.

However, the climax was approaching.

On the 19th, the Zenteno arrived with Don Carlos Eastman, General Renard, and a welcome reinforcement in the shape of the O’Higgins Regiment.

The Intendente duly landed, the streets being lined with troops. All the strikers congregated to witness his arrival, their total number in the small town of Iquique being estimated at anything between 12,000 and 16,000 men.

On the following day the Intendente received a deputation consisting of the committee of the strikers. He then called a meeting of the employers, and finally had a private interview with Noel Clarke, as doyen of the Foreign Consuls at Iquique.

On the morning of the 21st, a state of siege was proclaimed in the town, proclamations to that effect being posted, and notices in the local papers. One more attempt was made by the Intendente to induce the strikers to return to their work, but his note received an insolent answer couched in a sort of semiofficial language, which pointed to the fact that it was more of an attempt at a revolution, than a mere strike of workmen, that was confronting the Chilean Government. Fortunately for Chile, and for the Europeans who were in that country or had interests there, Don Carlos Eastman was a man who was not to be trifled with by an ignorant mob of strikers, headed by a band of anarchists and revolutionaries. The time for action had come, and was quickly seized. Owing to the overcrowding of the town by these thousands of strikers; (in addition to the danger of conflagration already alluded to,) there was a distinct risk of an epidemic breaking out, from the said overcrowding, and the filthy and insanitary habits of the men from the Pampas. Measures had to be taken to remove these unwelcome guests from the town, and they were taken at once.

The General in command of the troops was commanded by the Intendente to surround the strikers in the principal square, the Escuela Santa Maria, where they were holding one of their everlasting meetings, and order them to leave the town; warning them that if they had not moved off before the clock struck four, force would be used. Meanwhile, every effort was made by the officers present, from the General downwards, to persuade the strikers to retire, but all their eloquence was only met, by counter-abuse and violent and revolutionary speeches by the men’s leaders, who then retired to the building which was used as the headquarters of the committee. The General then ordered all peaceful inhabitants to withdraw. Advantage of this was taken by some of the strikers, who left the ranks of their comrades. At the last stroke of four, fire was opened on the building that sheltered the committee, and on the strikers, by a couple of machine-guns. The firing lasted about a minute, and then, without any further fuss, a long column of strikers marched out of the town to the race-course, flanked on either side by troops, and almost immediately began to entrain to go back to their work on the Nitrate Fields.

While the firing was going on we were all on the roof of the Casa Clarke, about a quarter of a mile from the Escuela Santa Maria, but as soon as it was over Morris and I went down into the street to watch the procession pass.

The Chileans are a fine fighting race, and, to use the old “ring” expression, took their “gruel” like men. I heard afterwards that they had begun to return the fire with revolvers and carbines, but machine-gun fire was too much for them, and in about a minute there were about four hundred of them down, of which some one hundred and twenty or so were dead. When they passed us in the street, though every now and then a badly wounded man would fall down in his tracks, there were no complaints or curses at the troops. They simply realised that the leaders had lost, and that they had to pay for it. As usual, not a single one of these same leaders, who were pretty well known to the authorities, were found amongst the killed or wounded, and all attempts to get hold of them failed. Somehow or another, with the aid of their sympathisers in the town, they all succeeded in getting clear away.

I do not propose to deduce any moral from this rather detailed account of a strike of a few thousand workmen in a South American Republic; but in these days, when we all live, in this country, under the perpetual threat of strikes of all sorts and descriptions, up to a General Strike, it may be of interest to any one who happens to read these pages, to learn, how officials who are not afraid to act, (though living in a thoroughly democratic country under a Republican form of Government,) can restore law and order, when they are threatened with revolution, under the guise of labour discontent.

With the return of the Nitrate workers to the Pampas, the worst of the strike was over; but Iquique was still distinctly non-normal during the rest of my short stay there.

I was very anxious to get down the coast to Antofagasta to visit the Leonor property and report on it before returning to England, where I was due for duty on the 1st of February; but the difficulty was to find a steamer that was going down the coast, as, owing to the strike of the stevedores, they could not take in cargo. However, I eventually succeeded in getting a passage in a tramp steamer that was going in the right direction. The next difficulty was to get on board, as there was still a transport strike going on, and consequently no public conveyances were available. I wrote to the Intendente and explained my situation as regards having to be back in England by a certain date, and he at once came to the rescue. As far as water transport was concerned, I was quite all right, as Captain Wilson, commanding the Chilean Cruiser Zenteno, was an old comrade of mine and promptly produced a steam pinnace to put me on board my steamer. I shall never forget my triumphant exit from Iquique. At the hour of my departure a most forlorn old pony-victoria, dragged by two equally forlorn mules, turned up at the door of the Casa Clarke, this equipage being surrounded by one of the best turned out and smartest escorts, (of Lancers), that I have ever seen. My luggage naturally filled the inside of the little carriage to overflowing, as well as the so-called box-seat, so away I went, sitting on the top of my pile of luggage, with the escort round me, amidst the laughter and jeers of my kindest of hosts and hostesses, and of my Chairman, who was remaining at Iquique, to finish off his interrupted visit to the officinas of the Tarapaca district.

The rest of my journey was quite uneventful. My steamer took me to Antofagasta, where I passed a few busy days inspecting the Leonor property, that had been recently acquired by the Company on whose board I sat. Our mining surveyor, who had reported on it, had, through no fault of his own, rather let us down. A sufficient proportion of nitrate was present all right, but, unfortunately, the rock that it was mixed up with proved on working to be abnormally hard, and was constantly breaking our crushing-engines, so eventually the property was not looked upon as a first-class paying proposition and was sold. When I was there, the crushing had hardly begun, and the report I sent to my Chairman was more concerned with the buildings of the officina, the managing officers, and the water supply.

I succeeded in hitting off another steamer going south, and a few days afterwards was in Valparaiso. There I only waited for the Transandine train, which, as it turned out, entailed three or four days’ delay,—days very pleasantly spent at Vigna-del-Mar, a charming suburb a few miles out of the town where all the rich merchants have their villas, and where there is also about the best hotel in Chile. Amongst other attractions, it boasted of a race-course, and a little club, where I believe very big baccarat occasionally went on; altogether “Vigna,” as it was always called, was an extremely pleasant place. My journey back over the Andes was extremely like the outward trip, the only difference was that from the Pacific side the pass was crossed over in a four-horsed carriage instead of mule-back. I infinitely preferred the mule, as it was sickening to have to witness the everlasting flogging of the good and willing horses by their brutal drivers. I had another short stay at Buenos Ayres while waiting for the mail boat, and eventually returned to England in the last days of January, just in time to take up a month’s duty as Equerry-in-Waiting.