Patrick O'Brian - The Wine-Dark Sea

'You astonish me,' cried Stephen.

'I too was dumbfounded,' replied Eduardo. 'Yet such is the case. In the season of the year the people of the village climb up to the cave, take all the young they can reach - mere balls of fat - and melt them down for oil, a pure transparent oil which they use for lamps or for cooking. They showed me the cauldron, they showed me the brimming oil-jars, astonished at my ignorance. I went far into the cave, wearing a broad hat against their droppings, and while they screeched and clattered over my head - it was like being in the midst of a huge swarm of bees, gigantic bees, and a din so that one could hardly think - I saw a small forest of wretched light-starved dwarvish trees, sprung from seeds they had voided.'

'Pray tell me of their eggs,' said Stephen, for whom this was a cardinal taxonomic point.

'They are white and unshining, like an owl's, and they have no sharp end. But they are laid in a well-shaped rounded nest made of... what is it?' he asked a hovering lay-brother.

'There is a gentleman who would like to see the Doctor,' said the lay-brother, handing a card. It bore an agreed name and Stephen excused himself.

'He is cooling his horse outside the gatehouse,' said the lay-brother.

There were two or three other people doing the same after their ride up the last steep hill and Stephen had to look quite hard before he made out Gayongos in military uniform, cavalry moustache and a great slouch hat, which surprised him, disguise being almost unknown at this level of intelligence; but he had to admit that although unprofessional it was effective. Gayongos had a powerful, well lathered stone-horse in his hand: the animal had clearly come up the road at a great pace.

'A man called Dutourd has reached Lima from Callao,' he said in a low tone as they walked the horse up and down. 'He is running about saying that he was ill-treated as a prisoner in the Surprise: ill-treated and robbed, that Captain Aubrey is not what he seems, that the Surprise is not a privateer but a King's ship, and that you are probably a British agent. He has found out some of the French mission and he harangued them in a loud voice in Julibrissin's crowded coffee-house until they became uneasy and walked off. Then he told another tale about an ideal projected republic. He makes a great deal of noise. His Spanish is incorrect but ready enough. He says he is an American, and he had a privateer sailing under American colours.'

'How did he get away, I wonder?' asked Stephen inwardly: the probable answer came at once. 'It is vexing,' he said to Gayongos. 'And at an earlier time it might have been most inconvenient, even disastrous; but now it is of no great consequence. The French will never take him seriously - will never compromise themselves with such a talkative enthusiast: with such a fool. He is incapable of keeping quiet. Nor will anyone else. In any case, I believe things have moved too far to be affected by his vapours. Consider: any complaint, any representations that he may make would have to be dealt with by the civil authorities. In a matter of twenty-four hours or so a military government will have taken power and until independence is proclaimed the civil authorities will not exist.'

'Yes,' said Gayongos. 'That was my view: but I thought you ought to be told. How did the meeting go?'

'It was decided not to admit Castro.'

Gayongos nodded, but his face was somewhat doubtful as he remounted. 'What shall I do with Dutourd?' he asked. 'Shall I have him suppressed? He makes such a noise.'

'No. Denounce him to the Inquisition,' said Stephen, smiling. 'He is a most infernal heretic.'

Gayongos however was not much given to merriment and there was no answering smile on his face as he set off in a shower of small stones and a cloud of dust for San Pablo, to give his journey another face. The dust drifted westward, perceptibly slower than it would have done a few hours earlier.

'Their nest is made of mud,' said Eduardo; and while Stephen was digesting this he prepared a ball of coca-leaves, passed his soft leather bag, and observed, 'The wind is dropping somewhat.'

'So it is indeed,' said Stephen, glancing at a group of people, who had just come into the cloister: early pilgrims were beginning to arrive in both monasteries. 'I hope you will not find your journey to the llama-farm too arduous.'

'Oh, not at all: though I thank you for your kindness. I am accustomed to the mountain, even to the puna, the very high mountain; though I confess that such a blow, at this time of the year and on this side of the Cordillera, is almost unheard of. How I wish it would drop a little more - and from the sky I believe it may - so that you might be induced to come at least as far as Hualpo, our main llama station.'

'Fortified by coca-leaves, I should have no hesitation in setting out within the next quarter of an hour,' said Stephen.

'Once their virtuous principle is infused into my whole being, I shall bare my bosom to the blast with perfect equanimity. It will not be long; already I feel that agreeable insensibility invading my pharynx. But first pray tell me about the llama. I am pitifully ignorant of the whole tribe - have never seen a living specimen and only very few indifferent bones.'

'Well, sir, there are only two wild kinds, the vicuna, a little orange creature with a long silky fleece that lives high up, close to the snow, though sometimes we see a few above Hualpo, and the guanaco. We see some of them too - where would the puma be, were it not for the guanaco? - but they are more usual in Chile and right down to Patagonia. They are more easily tamed than the vicuna, and they are the ancestors of the llama and the alpaca, the llamas being bred for riding and carrying burdens, and the alpaca, smaller animals that we keep higher up, just for wool. Both give quite good meat, of course, though some say not nearly as good as mutton. In my opinion, mutton...'He coughed, blew his nose, and rolled another ball of coca-leaves; but to a reasonably attentive, sympathetic listener it was clear that the Inca - for Eduardo was of the pure blood - regarded sheep as an unwelcome Spanish introduction.

This became more apparent later in the day, when they rode eastward across the plateau, and rounding a knoll studded with the tallest many-branched cactuses Stephen had yet seen, came upon a flock gathered in a sheltered hollow, grazing close together, all facing one way. For the last few miles Eduardo had been talking away with the greatest animation, telling Stephen of a white-muzzled bear he had once met in a coca-grove and pointing out a variety of small birds (this country, though bare, was very far from being the desert of the coastal plain), but his cheerful face changed on seeing the flock running away, all in the same direction. 'Sheep. Well may they be called sheep,' he said indignantly, and putting his fingers to his mouth he uttered a piercing whistle which set them running faster still. This brought the Indian shepherds out from behind the rocks and while one, with the dogs, brought the sheep to order, the others raced towards the horses, calling out in submissive tones. But Eduardo rode on, and it was some minutes before he recovered his gaiety, describing the lake of Chinchaycocha, no great way farther to the east, but something of a climb, being at thirteen thousand feet: it was surrounded by reed-beds and it had a wonderful population of water-fowl. 'But unhappily,' he said, 'I know their names only in Quichua, the language of my people: I have found no learned descriptions, with Latin names, genus and species. For example there is a splendid goose we call huachua which has dark green wings, merging to violet..."

The plateau broke away in broad sloping terraces to a stream far below, and here the country was richer by far, with stretches of a crop called quinua, a species of chaenopodium, and fields of barley with dry-stone walls - stone in great plenty, lying in shattered heaps - and on the edge of one field a stray sheep. 'Sheep again,' said Eduardo with disapproval. Down the stream, far on the right hand, there was an Indian village, but he turned to the left, telling Stephen a little anxiously that although the lofty slope on the other side looked high it was not really very steep or far, that the llama-farm was only just over the top - really a little low for llamas - and this path would get them there much quicker.