This Thing of Darkness by Harry Thompson

Author:Harry Thompson [Thompson, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Adventure
ISBN: 9780755376056
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Review
Published: 2004-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

The mystery was solved a mere league further on: a new estancia spread itself confidently before them, clean white lines at right-angles to the shining turf. The added presence of an entire troop of cavalry, heading south from Buenos Ayres, had obviously emboldened the women-folk sufficiently for them to go out exploring for ostrich eggs.

Darwin’s party approached the estancia’s main gate in scrupulous observation of the correct etiquette. There they waited, without dismounting, until the proprietor Don Juan Fuentes was fetched.

‘Ave Maria,’ said Esteban, saluting him.

‘Sin pecado concebida,’ replied Don Juan. Conceived without sin.

After that they were permitted to dismount, and their horses were taken away to be stabled. Following a passage of stiltedly formal conversation concerning conditions on the trail, a request was made - and granted as a matter of course - for overnight accommodation within the estancia walls. Furthermore, the celebrated naturalista Don Carlos was invited, as Don Juan’s guest of honour that night, to a grand supper in the main house.

The sun blessed the estancia with its last few precious rays, then withdrew for the night. Safe inside the compound, Darwin decided to go for a stroll around this isolated outpost of civilization. The troops had lit their campfires, and were busy slaughtering a mare for their evening’s feast. The hideous squeals of the victim gave the flickering firelight a primitive aspect: a bucket had been fetched to collect the animal’s blood for drinking, and the thick crimson liquid pooled in the rusty vessel as if some Aztec ritual were being prosecuted. Liquor bottles were busily uncorked, and many a cigareto was ignited in the fire. The troops were at ease, confident. They knew that they were on the winning side, that Rosas would lead them to victory. Darwin retreated inside before the knife quarrels began.

Don Juan Fuentes’ guests assembled in their finery for supper at ten, far later than they would have done in Europe: there were cavalry officers in full dress uniform, and ladies of the house in figure-hugging gowns that flared from the hip. There were knives and forks and bowls too, the first cutlery Darwin had seen for some weeks, but the bowls held nothing but vast mounds of mare’s flesh, exactly like those the troops were busy wolfing outside. The rough-hewn tables and chairs, the jugs of water and the beaten-earth floor put him in mind of a monastic refectory. There was no glass in any of the windows, and mosquitoes clouded the wavering candlelight like motes of soot. The talk was of General Rosas, and war, and the inevitability of final victory; such was the cultural and technological superiority of the white Christian race. Only when Darwin lit a cigareto with a Promethean - the new kind, which could be struck dry against any surface - did the talk of war cease. All talk, in fact, ceased. The table was paralysed, spellbound. Darwin struck another Promethean against his teeth. A rich landowner from Cordoba offered him a whole dollar for one of these magic sticks.

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