One Island Is Set Apart As A Burial
Ground, One Is For Infected Patients, And The Other, At Which We Were
Landed, Is For Suspects.
On that desert island, with no other land in
sight than the sister isles, we were given time to chew the cud of
bitter reflection.
They gave us little else to chew! The food served
up to us consisted of strings of dried beef, called charqui, which
was brought from the mainland in dirty canvas bags. This was often
supplemented by boiled seaweed. Being accustomed to self-
preservation, I was able to augment this diet with fish caught while
sitting on the barren rocks of our sea-girt prison. Prison it
certainly was, for sentries, armed with Remingtons, herded us like
sheep.
The three weeks' detention came to an end, as everything earthly
does, and then an open barge, towed by a steam-launch, conveyed us to
Montevideo. Quite a fresh breeze was blowing, and during our eleven
hours' journey we were repeatedly drenched with spray. Delicate
ladies lay down in the bottom of the boat in the throes of
seasickness, and were literally washed to and fro, and saturated, as
they said, to the heart. We landed, however, and I took passage up to
Asuncion in the "Olympo."
The "Olympo" is a palatial steamer, fitted up like the best Atlantic
liners with every luxury and convenience. On the ship there were
perhaps one hundred cabin passengers, and in the steerage were six
hundred Russian emigrants bound for Corrientes, three days' sail
north.
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