The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 750 - 358

The local government provided some supplies to the nearby Indian tribe, such as giving them all the old and weak horses. They made a living by making saddle blankets and other horse gear. These Indians were considered assimilated, less fierce, but as a result, they also became unprincipled and lazy.

Fortunately, the young people in the tribe were making progress; they were willing to work. Recently, a group even participated in a distant seal-hunting voyage, where the captain said that these young Indian lads performed exceptionally well.

When we arrived in town, they were enjoying the fruits of their labor, strolling leisurely in lively and clean clothes. Their taste in dress was enviable, I assure you that any of these young Indians could serve as a model for a copper statue, his robe would be sufficiently elegant.

However, Eld seemed more interested in these Indian lads than I was, as we hadn’t seen a living soul for five or six days before reaching El Carmen. So as soon as Eld got to the village, he went to the only tavern in town to drink and boast with these lads.

I don’t know how that fellow managed to become one with the Indians, as they obviously didn’t speak the same language, but after two or three beers, it seemed all they needed was a shameless smile or a vulgar obscene gesture to understand each other.

Eld was even invited by the Indian tribe to participate in their traditional celebration, but Colonel Fitzroy, concerned the Indians might harm him, disagreed with Eld departing the camp on his own. But Eld assured everyone that he didn’t care about his lousy life; he was simply keen on bringing back a couple of Indian girls.

Although we had someone keep an eye on the lad, he still managed to slip away from the camp unnoticed that night and thoroughly enjoyed himself with his new friends. Although he didn’t manage to bring back any Indian girls as he’d hoped, when he returned the next morning, all his clothes and hat had been replaced with Indian-style apparel.

And so, the town suddenly acquired a Briton-styled Indian gentleman, and our group gained a British jungle fighter in Indian fashion. Everyone said Eld might have been snatched by the Indians, but he argued that he had slept with five the previous night and his clothes were love tokens left for the girls.

Most people in the camp didn’t believe Eld’s story, but Colonel Fitzroy did. He was so angry that he ordered Eld to be confined for a day, stating that if Eld could give away his clothes today, tomorrow he might give guns to those Indian lasses.

And if the guns from our fleet were to end up in the hands of those Indian women, the Royal Navy would lose an expedition team and acquire an Indian infantry in return. As a captain of the Royal Navy, Colonel Fitzroy insisted that his authority was not extensive enough to autonomously restructure the composition of the troops.

Amid the chaos in the camp, I took a ride to the Great Salt Lake fifteen miles away to clear my mind. Sparkling white and boundless, the Great Salt Lake lay at the very center of the brown and barren plain, two and a half miles long and one mile wide. In winter, it’s a shallow saltwater lake, and in summer, it turns into a snowy salt flat.

Every year, the lake produces tens of thousands of tons of salt bricks, large cubic crystals with a high degree of purity. The prosperity of the region is almost entirely dependent on it.

Mr. Trenham Rix, a local salt merchant, kindly analyzed its composition for me. He found that the salt contains only 0.26% gypsum and 0.22% dirt. Strangely enough, this pure salt is not as good for curing meat as the sea salt from the Cape Verde Islands. They even have to import sea salt from Cape Verde to mix with the local salt. Pure salt turned out to be of inferior quality to impure salt, which was unexpected for everyone.

However, the salt issue didn’t preoccupy me for long, as I found flamingoes resting on the shores of the lake, beautiful and fascinating creatures. Here you could see them wading and foraging, probably targeting the worms burrowing in the mud, which in turn might feed on protozoa or diatoms.

Just as I was contemplating the habits of these beautiful creatures, I saw a group of cavalry passing by the shore. They were the troops of General Rosas, the Supreme Commander of the armed forces of Buenos Aires. Due to the Indian nomadic tribes recently increasing their raids on large estates near the settlements, General Rosas specially formed this force to sweep a straight line of territory five hundred miles from Buenos Aires to Port Blanca.

And when we were crossing the Colorado River, we happened to pass their headquarters. Nearly all of their soldiers were cavalry. However, I believe there has never been such an army that looks so much like a band of thuggish robbers. Most of the soldiers were of African, Indian, and Spanish descent. I don’t know why, but such individuals are rarely kindly and compassionate.

But luckily, we also had the unyielding Eld. He volunteered himself and approached the troop’s clerk, but due to the strong Indian elements on him, he was apprehended by the soldiers before he could get near the camp. Eld first explained in English, but they didn’t understand, so he switched to Latin and ended up with a smack on the face.