Chapter XIV…

Chapter XIV

Paz and Liebre begin work--Chronometers--Fish--Animals--San Blas --Wrecks--River Negro--Del Carmen--Inhabitants--Indians--Trade --Williams drowned--Port Desire--Gale--Salinas--Lightning--Bones in Tomb--Trees--Dangers--New Bay--Cattle--Seal--Soil--River Chupat --Drift Timber--Fertility--Wild Cattle--Valdes Creek--Imminent danger--Tide Races--Bar of the Negro--Hunting--Attack of Indians --Villarino--Falkner.

The Paz and Liebre parted company with the Beagle on the 18th of October 1832, and commenced their undertaking by a cursory examination of the entrance to False Bay, Green Bay, and Brightman Inlet. Lieut. Wickham and Mr. King, with Roberts and four men, were in the Liebre.[1] Messrs. Stokes, Mellersh, and Forsyth, with Harris and five men, were on board the Paz.[2] While they were northward of the Colorado, true bearings of the Ventana Mountain, and observed latitudes, made them independent of their five chronometers; but it was soon found that the rates of those useful machines were not injured even by the continual as well as sudden motions of so small a vessel. They were bedded in sawdust, wool, and sand,[3] within a large tub, which was secured to the deck under the cabin table of the Paz, not far from the centre of least motion.

In Brightman Inlet great quantities of fish were caught, by stopping up the mouths of small creeks with a net at high water, and when the tide ebbed many more were left ashore than were wanted. On Green Island they found good water by digging wells seven or eight feet deep. The island itself was overrun by deer and cavies: and on the main land the wild pig of the country (javali) was seen. On the 23d they entered the river Colorado, but had much trouble in warping to a safe berth, on account of the water being very shoal at the entrance which they had chosen. The principal mouth was a quarter of it mile further south, the stream being there “broad and rapid,” with two fathoms water when the tide was out; but beset, to seaward, by sand-banks, which shift with every south-east gale. Quantities of drift-wood, a kind of willow (sauci), lay about every where, indicating that the river sometimes overflowed its banks to a great distance, and brought down these trees from the interior country, as none grow within three leagues of the mouth. The river hereabouts is divided into many streams, forming a great number of small islands, which are nearly all of clay covered with rushes. From one of these streams or channels, the Cañada, there are creeks communicating at high-water with Union Bay. Here Lieut. Wickham’s party saw a wolf.

On the 27th they met a whale-boat (at Creek Island in Anegada Bay) from the River Negro, in search of sea-elephants. Next day they reached a snug creek in San Blas Bay, where they heard that the Indians had lately driven off all the cattle from the San Blas Estancia, had destroyed the houses, dismounted the guns, and broken the carriages. They were accompanied by a number of desperate criminals who had fled from justice at Buenos Ayres, and idle gauchos, who preferred robbery to work, and were unquestionably the most savage of the troop. On the 29th the Liebre was hauled ashore, to extract a piece of sauci wood that had run through her bottom: and a party was afterwards employed in erecting a conspicuous mark upon Hog Island; a very difficult task, because the loose sand, of which that island wholly consists, flies in clouds at every gust, and nowhere affords a solid foundation. By the help of casks filled with it, and spare anchors, they at length succeeded in securing an old spar upright, which was large enough to be seen ten miles round, in that low half-drowned country.

Deer were very numerous on Javali Island; but on the place called Deer Island, there was not one, though they were so plentiful there a few years before. Some dogs had been left there by a whale-ship, which have increased very much in numbers and are very savage: these dogs have exterminated the deer.

Any quantity of fresh water may be obtained in San Blas Bay, by digging wells six or eight feet deep; and fish are abundant: but it is no place for a ship to enter unless under favourable circumstances of weather, wind, and tide; and decidedly dangerous with a south-easter, because there is then a sea on the banks outside which confuses the pilot’s eye, and prevents his distinguishing the proper channel; besides which, thick weather, if not rain, is the general accompaniment to that wind.

On the 3d of December the Beagle anchored off San Blas (as formerly mentioned). Both schooners went out to her, and in returning at night into San Blas Bay, working to windward with a strong flood tide, they passed close to an unknown rock which would have made an end of their cruise had they touched it. The least water they had, however, was eight feet;[4] but both vessels were close to it, while the tide was running four or five knots. This rock is in the middle of the entrance to San Blas Bay. At midnight they reached their anchorage, without a dry article in either vessel.

On the 6th, Lieutenant Wickham remarked, while at anchor between San Blas and the River Negro, off Point Rasa, that the stream of tide began to set northward at half flood, and continued to run in that direction until half ebb, by the shore. “It is not at all uncommon on this coast,” he says, “to see wrecks of vessels above high-water mark, and spars strewed along the beach where the sea does not touch them.” These wrecks took place during south-east gales, when the sea was raised above its usual level in fine weather: and were the vessels spoken of in the previous chapter, as having been entrusted to ignorant or careless prize-masters, who ran for San Blas or the River Negro, not then knowing that so fine a port as Blanco Bay existed. Strong tides, shoals, a low coast, and bad weather would have perplexed professed seamen; but those difficulties were insurmountable to such unpractised craftsmen as those who were in charge of them, and most of the prizes were lost. One large ship of four or five hundred tons was taken, by a wiser master, to Port Melo, and there her cargo was discharged into small craft, which landed it safely in the River Negro. Many of these ill-fated vessels were never afterwards heard of; but from the numerous wrecks seen along the coast between the Colorado and the Negro, it may be inferred that they and their unfortunate crews perished in the surf occasioned by south-east gales, or were capsized by sudden pamperoes.

Running up the River Negro (on the 7th December), Lieut. Wickham found the ‘freshes’[5] strongly against him. The banks of the river afforded a pleasing contrast, by their verdure, to the arid desert around Anegada Bay. Most part of these banks was cultivated, and great quantities of fine corn was seen growing. Here and there were country houses (quintas) surrounded by gardens, in which apple, fig, walnut, cherry, quince, and peach trees, vines, and vegetables of most kinds were abundantly plentiful.

Although the banks of the river are so fit for cultivation, it is only in consequence of floods, which take place twice a-year--once during the rainy season of the interior, and once at the time when the snow melts on the Cordillera. These floods swell the river several feet above its banks, bringing a deposit of mud and decayed vegetable matter, which enriches the soil and keeps it moist even during the long droughts of that climate.

The plough used there is wooden, and generally worked by oxen, but it does not cut deeply. Manure is never used, the soil being so fattened by alluvial deposits.

The town of Nuestra Señora del Carmen, is about six leagues up the river, on its northern bank, upon a slightly-rising ground about forty feet above the water. It is irregularly built: the houses are small, one only having two stories; and glass windows are seldom seen: each house has a large oven. A square enclosure of some extent, formed by walls of unbaked bricks (adobes), is called the fort, and within it are the church, the governor’s house, lodgings for the officers, and public stores. This fort commands the neighbourhood, as well as the houses (or cottages) surrounding it; and of the hundred buildings which compose the town of Carmen, exclusive of about thirty huts on the south bank of the river, the fort is the oldest. It was built about 1763. Some houses, forty years old, are as fresh in outward appearance, as if built only a few years ago. In a population of 1,400, there are about 500 negroes. Altogether there may be in the town about two thousand inhabitants, but many of the poorer families and negroes live in caves, which were dug out of cliffs on the river’s bank by the first Spanish settlers. It is said that they served the Spaniards as a secure refuge from the Indians, who could only approach them by one path, easily secured. These caves, dug out of earthy clay, are not despicable dwellings, while there is a fire in them to expel damp.

About a league from the entrance of the river are the ruins of a large house, which was the “Estancia del Rey.” In former days 100,000 head of cattle were attached to that establishment, now there is not even a calf.

Some of the first settlers were living at Carmen in 1833, staunch royalists, every one looking back with regret to former times. One of them belonged to the crew of the Spanish launch that first entered the river. He said, that the Indians were then living in detached tribes along both banks of the river, and were very friendly to the Spaniards. This same old man afterwards made one of the exploring party, under Villarino, in 1786, when the natives were not only inoffensive, but gave them assistance. How different from the present day! when if a Christian is seen by the natives, he is immediately hunted, and his safety depends upon the fleetness of his horse. It has sometimes happened, that persons riding along near this river, have been surprized by a marauding party of Indians, and obliged, as their only resource, to leap off the banks (barrancas), whether high or low, and swim across to the other side. The Indians have never followed; hence this, though requiring resolution, is a sure mode of escape.

Prior to the conclusion of the war between Brazil and Buenos Ayres (1828), the settlers at Carmen lived tranquilly--undisturbed by Indian aggression (retaliation?) but since that time, they have been kept in continual alarm. Prisoners are often brought to Carmen to be ransomed, whom the Indians have taken from other places. They are generally women or children; and as the Indians often find out who their prisoners are, the ransoms asked are proportionably exorbitant. Men are usually put to death, if they do not die of their wounds. There is a tribe of friendly Indians living near Carmen, at the outskirts of the town, who do much hard work for the inhabitants for very trifling remuneration; but they are shamefully abused, cheated in every way by shopkeepers and liquor-venders, and harshly treated by other persons, who seem to consider them inferior beings--unworthy of any kind or humane consideration. Should one of these poor creatures fall by the knife of a passionate white man, no notice is taken of it by the authorities; the murderer boasts of his deed, and the poor relations suffer patiently the loss and the insult, which they dare not avenge. Having quitted the free tribes, seduced by promises never fulfilled, they would not be received among them again; and their own numbers, originally small, are reduced daily by disease and abominable drugs, which the publicans sell them in what is said to be spirituous liquor (agua ardiente). Mr. Wickham saw a poor Indian woman, between forty and fifty years of age, almost killed by a blow on the head from an ox’s skull (with the horns), given by a wretch, who had drawn his knife upon her husband for preventing his kissing a pretty girl, their daughter, who was walking with her. This scoundrel was seen by Mr. Wickham, a few days afterwards, betting at the race-course with the principal people of the place.

Thanks to the influence of Harris and Roberts, and their connections (both being married to daughters of Spanish settlers), our officers and men were exceedingly well treated. Every door was open to them; and the fruit in every garden was freely, as well as sincerely offered. Letters had been forwarded to the commandant or governor, from Buenos Ayres, desiring that we might have every facility and freedom in our operations; but the disposition towards us was such, that those letters were not required.

From the remains of former buildings, and accounts of the old men, Lieutenant Wickham thought that the Spanish settlers must have been far more industrious and ingenious than their creole descendants, who are idle, indolent, and ignorant. The height of their ambition is to make a show at the Sunday races, where they deceive, drink, wrangle, gamble, and quarrel. These Sabbath occupations are always attended by the female part of the population, who take that opportunity of displaying their finery; and though seated upon handkerchiefs on the sandy ground, without any defence from sun, wind, dust, or rain, every damsel displays silk stockings and a gaudy dress upon these occasions. The men do not go near them, notwithstanding their attire: they can beat a poor woman almost to death, upon occasion; but they cannot defer a bet, or risk losing a dollar, for the sake of female society.

The climate is so healthy, that illness of any kind is scarcely known; and the inhabitants, in general, live to a good old age. There is a stirring trade carried on in small vessels, between Buenos Ayres and this place. Salt, of excellent quality, hides, peltry, seal or sea-elephant oil, and skins, are the principal exports, in return for which are received manufactures, sugar, spirits, tobacco, &c.

The Indians, who live at the outskirts of the town in ‘toldos,’ which are neither wind nor water-tight, load vessels with salt; but the price of their labour is usually spent in some kind of spirituous liquor, which is made and drugged expressly for them--the publicans often saying, “that it is a sin to give an Indian good spirits.” When drunk, the howling of these poor wretches is quite frightful. Some of them are almost skeletons--the result, probably, of drinking.

Some leagues up the river coal is obtained, I was informed, but I did not see a specimen myself. Probably Mr. Darwin had an opportunity of examining its quality.

On the 12th, Lieutenant Wickham sailed for Blanco Bay, to deliver some letters from me (which I had received from Buenos Ayres) to the commandant Rodriguez.

13th. Off the banks in Anegada Bay there was too much sea (during a S.W. gale) for the Liebre to keep on her course any longer, having run as long as was prudent, and already shipped several seas. When hove-to, under a balance-reefed foresail, with the tiller unshipped, she was dry and easy, and lay about five points from the wind.

Mr. Wickham arrived at Argentina on the 16th, and left it on the following day. In sailing out of Blanco Bay, along the south shore, while it was dark, the Liebre grounded frequently; but her crew got overboard, and hauled her over the banks as often as she was stopped by them, and at midnight she was at sea. A south-east gale on the 18th drove her into the Colorado, where Lieutenant Wickham found a strong-outset, owing to the ‘freshes,’ even during the flood-tide.

On the 22d, the Liebre entered the river again, and anchored near Carmen.

At daylight on the 24th, Corporal Williams was missed, supposed to have fallen overboard in the night, while asleep. He slept on deck sometimes, when tormented by musquitoes; and as the Liebre’s weather-cloth rail was but a few inches above the deck, he might possibly have rolled overboard into the stream, which would immediately have carried him away. His body was found, about three miles down the river, at sunset the next evening (Christmas day). The governor (though a Roman catholic) allowed the burial to take place in the consecrated ground of the church, and the curate himself was present.

While the Liebre was absent, Mr. Stokes, in the Paz, surveyed many miles of the river, as well as the bar. No vessel drawing more than eleven feet water can enter without much danger: if at a favourable time any person should be induced to risk crossing the bar with a ship of greater draught, he should bear in mind that it is much more difficult to get to sea than it is to enter, because wind which is fair for approaching, raises the water; and the reverse. Although ships drawing fourteen feet have passed the bar, at unusually favourable times, others of only ten feet draught have been detained forty days in the river.

29th. Both our little vessels sailed, and on the 4th of January they anchored safely in Port Desire:--this was a bold stroke, but success attended it. They were thus placed at the southernmost point of the coast they were to survey, while the sun was farthest south; and as the days shortened, they would work along the coast northward. Recent traces of Indians were found; and the master of an American sealer told Mr. Wickham that they had been there in considerable numbers, about two months previously. The wells were all full; therefore much rain must have fallen during October, November, or December. I have mentioned elsewhere that although the eastern coast of Patagonia is usually an arid desert, there are periodical times, of short duration, at which rain falls abundantly.

11th. Having rated their chronometers, the little vessels stood out to sea, in company with the North American sealer; but they had not sailed many miles before the wind increased to a gale, and still becoming stronger, bringing clouds of dust and sand off the land, they were reduced to bare poles, and drifted fast off-shore, as well as northward. When the fury of the gale was over, their balance-reefed foresails were set, and with their tillers unshipped they made very good weather, until they were driven near the tide-races off Cape Blanco, where some anxious hours were passed, half-buried in foam, and the wind again almost a hurricane. Towards evening, the storm abated; our water-soaked explorers succeeded in regaining a position under shelter of the land; and anchored next morning under Cape Blanco, to dry themselves and take observations. In this severe gale, the North American schooner split two close-reefed foresails, lost a boat, and was otherwise damaged.

Lieutenant Wickham and Mr. Mellersh walked a long way from Cape Blanco, to trace the coast, and look out for shoals in the offing; in doing which, they found numerous ‘salinas’ (extensive hollow places filled with salt), where the solid mass of very white and good salt was several feet in thickness. Guanacoes were numerous, but shy. On the rocks some fur-seal were seen; too few, however, to be worth a sealer’s notice. The following week was passed in examining St. George Bay. Scarcely any stream of tide was found in its western part, though the rise amounted to nearly twenty feet. About Tilly road, where they landed, the mass or principal part of the soil, where visible in cliffs or ravines, is loose sandy clay (diluvium), with immense quantities of large fossil oyster shells imbedded in it. These shells were found every where, even on summits seven or eight hundred feet above the sea, and some of them weighed eight pounds.

A place honoured by the Spaniards with the name of Malaspina, and described as a port, was found to be a wretched cove, full of rocks, hardly safe even for the Liebre. While moored there, our party witnessed lightning set fire to bushes and grass. The flames spread rapidly, and for two days, the face of the country continued to blaze. Near Port Arredondo, Mr. Wickham went to the tops of several hills; he found the country unproductive, except of a few bushes, and yellow wiry grass. There were no traces of natives. Very heavy rain fell during the night of the 28th. I mention it thus particularly, because some persons have said that rain never falls on the east coast of Patagonia, in any quantity.

The cove called ‘Oven’ is a singular place, being a parting (as it were) in the solid rock, nearly a mile in length, but very narrow, with four fathoms water in it at low tide. Surrounded on all sides by precipitous hills, it is, indeed, an oven; and would injure a ship seriously, even more than other ports on this arid coast, if she were to lie long in it; as her seams would all be opened, and her planks split by the heat and drought. The water found here was so strongly impregnated with salt-petre, that it was not drinkable; but probably better might have been procured had they dug fresh wells. On the summit of South Cape an Indian tomb was found. The stones had been displaced, and some bones were lying about, a few of which were taken on board, but none could be got in a perfect state. Mr. Bynoe afterwards examined them, and informed me that they had belonged to a female of small stature.[6]

Off Ship Island, and thence to Cape Dos Bahias, the tide-stream was again felt strongly, running two, three, or, in some places, four knots an hour. At a little creek, in Camarones Bay, near Cape Dos Bahias, abundance of small wood, fit for fuel, was found; and plenty of fresh water in hollows of the rocks. A guanaco was shot, which weighed upwards of two hundred pounds. Not only is small wood plentiful about Camarones Bay, but the country is sufficiently covered with grass of good quality. Several Indian tombs were seen on the hills, whence it may be inferred that natives at times frequent the neighbourhood, although no recent traces were met with by our party. Unfortunately, not one of these tombs, simply irregular piles of stones, was found in an undisturbed state, neither were any more bones discovered: they are all similarly situated upon the most conspicuous, smooth, and round-topped hills.

At Port Santa Elena many tons of excellent water were procured from hollows in the rocks. (7th Feb.) Approaches to trees were found at this place, which though stunted as to height, much like thorn-trees in exposed situations, were of respectable dimensions. One measured more than three feet round the trunk, but its fellow was not seen.

After dusk, on the 10th, while endeavouring to enter New Bay, with a fresh wind and strong flood-tide, the Liebre got into a ‘race,’ and was hustled within a fathom of a rock, over which the tide was boiling furiously. Fortunately, the Paz saw the Liebre alter course and make more sail, and by immediately following her example, avoided the danger. They then hauled off, and passed the night at sea.

Next day (11th), they stood towards the bay again, the wind increasing fast, till it blew a gale from W.S.W., which being against a flood-tide stream, running at the rate of four knots through the entrance, raised a short hollow sea, dangerous for small craft. Battening down the hatches securely, and close-reefing, the little vessels worked through gallantly, though frequently obliged to lower their sails in squalls, or as they dived into a sea heavier than usual. The tide soon swept them beyond the narrow part, and then they were comparatively in safety.

Part of the west shores of New Bay seemed to be fit for cultivation, being covered with a fine dark soil; and there is abundance of fire-wood. Some small ponds of excellent water were found, over a clayey bed, in which were tracks of cattle. A guanaco shot here was superior to any killed elsewhere, as to condition. Many thousand seals were seen on the rocks, which did not take to the water as soon as disturbed--therefore they could not have been much molested by man.

On the 24th, Lieutenant Wickham discovered the river Chupat, and after waiting for the tide, anchored half a mile within the entrance. Next day he went a few miles up it in a boat, and found that, though free from drift-timber, it was shoal and narrow, few places being deeper than six feet at low-water, or wider than a hundred yards. The stream ran down two or three knots an hour. Many tracks of cattle were seen, but none of natives. As the river seemed to be free from sunken trees, and to have but few banks in it, Mr. Wickham decided to move the Liebre as far up as he could, and then make another excursion in his little two-oared skiff. Between pulling[7] and sailing, the Liebre was moved twelve miles up in one day, and was moored in the middle of the stream, lest Indians should be near.

Next morning, Mr. Wickham went in his boat, about eight miles further; but in a direct line he was then not more than twelve miles from the entrance. Along the banks on each side, as he had advanced, both he and those with him, were much struck by the richness of the alluvial land (caused doubtless by the river overflowing its low banks), and by the quantities of drift-timber, which actually looked like the stores in immense timber-yards. Among the drift-wood there were many large and sound trees left several hundred yards from the banks, therefore the periodical floods must be great.

At Mr. Wickham’s westernmost point “the river and the country round had a beautiful appearance, as seen from a rising ground on the south side--an excellent position for a settlement.” From this elevation the stream was traced to the westward, running with a very serpentine course, through level meadow land, covered with rich herbage. Several herds of wild cattle were seen, and their traces were observed every where in such numbers as to indicate a great abundance of animals.

Mr. Wickham returned on the 26th to the entrance, and found that a store of fish had been salted by the cook, while Mr. Stokes and others were going about, surveying the neighbourhood. These fish were a kind of bass, nearly as good as salmon.

I have no doubt that this is a river whose existence has been many years known by Spaniards, but of which the situation was intentionally concealed, on account of the lucrative trade some individuals hoped to carry on by means of hides and tallow obtained from the herds of wild cattle. The Spaniards used to anchor their vessels in Port San José, and thence ride in large parties to the Chupat; there they surrounded numbers of cattle, and drove them across the peninsula between San José and New Bay, where they slaughtered them at leisure. Numbers were probably killed nearer the river; but all that could be driven, had doubtless the privilege of conveying their own hides to the neighbourhood of their hunters’ ships. There was still living at the River Negro (in 1833) an old man, who was one of the few individuals that escaped during a dreadful massacre of Spanish settlers at Port San José. He said that the Indians were jealous of their encroachments, and seized an opportunity, while the Spaniards were attending the performance of mass, to fall upon them, and indiscriminately slay all, except three or four who were taken alive and kept as slaves.

That the Spaniards should have chosen San José for the place of their settlement instead of New Bay, or the Chupat itself, is easily accounted for, by mentioning that small vessels can generally run from the River Negro to Port San José without much risk and in a short time, whereas there are strong tides and dangerous ‘races’ off the peninsula of San José, and the entrance of the Chupat will not admit a vessel drawing more than seven feet: even this only at high-water. I think that the Chupat is the river alluded to by Falkner, as being in the “country of Chulilaw.”[8] He was told that it traversed the continent as far as the Andes, and judging from the drift-timber, as well as volcanic scoriæ brought down by it, there is ground for thinking that the Chupat[9] rises in the Cordillera. There is also reason to suppose that the river described and placed variously by different geographers, under the name of Camarones, is this Chupat, chiefly because the Indians who frequent the country bordering upon the south bank of the Negro, say that there is no river of consequence between that and the Santa Cruz, excepting the Chupat.

With this river so near at hand, the west side of New Bay would be an excellent situation for a settlement. There ships of any burthen might anchor in safety, and a communication be carried on with the interior by means of flat-bottomed boats, or barges, so constructed as to admit of being towed, or tracked, in the river, and capable of running up to New Bay before a fair wind. In the River Negro similar boats go a long way up the river for salt; they are towed by horses or oxen; and such vessels, even of thirty tons burthen, might enter the Chupat, if constructed so as to draw but little water. I need not dwell upon the possible advantages to be derived from opening a communication across the continent with Chilóe, which might be a means of diffusing Christianity, civilization, and commercial intercourse.

On the 3d, Lieut. Wickham and his party left the Chupat. Early on the 5th they entered Valdes Creek (by the Spaniards styled ‘port’), with the flood tide running nearly six knots into the narrow entrance: and on its shores found heaps of horns and bones, besides the wreck of a vessel.[10] These were indications of one of the temporary settlements maintained on the peninsula of San José for the purpose of obtaining hides. The carcases of the animals were invariably left to decay; a few delicate portions only being selected for food.

Until the 12th our little vessels were unable to quit this singular place, for the ebb tide set so strongly against the swell outside, raised by a S.E. gale, that they could not attempt to cross the bar. Sometimes the very narrow entrance of Valdes Creek is almost stopped up for a time by shingle and sand, after a S.E. gale has been blowing for a few days, therefore at such a time no vessel ought to run for it.

During the war between Brazil and Buenos Ayres (1825-9), Mr. Adams, of Carmen, was master of a merchant vessel hired by Vernet to convey settlers to the Falkland Islands. In returning thence, short of water and provisions, he thought to put into Valdes Creek, knowing that some people were there employed in collecting hides. He ran in for the land, with a fresh S.E. wind, and did not discover, until almost too late, that the bar was not passable. When close in he perceived a heavy sea breaking at the entrance, where he expected smooth water, and directly hauled off; but it was only by carrying a heavy press of sail that he cleared the land; and at the expense of passing through ‘races,’ which tore off the vessel’s bulwarks and otherwise damaged her materially. As our cock-boats crossed this bar, they had ten feet water, but on each side of it there were five fathoms. The Liebre, sharp built, plunged into each short swell; while the Paz, with her bluff bow, did not take in a single sea. The bar is a continuation of the long shingle spit, or bank, which forms the seaward side of the harbour; and is about nine miles long, though in some places not a hundred yards broad.

Towards noon the wind fell light, and the vessels were swept by a strong tide-stream towards a ‘race,’ whose noise might have appalled the crews of much larger and stouter barks. No bottom could be struck with the deep-sea lead, and no efforts of the crews at the oars had much effect in arresting their progress towards apparently inevitable destruction. Even at this awful time, habitual familiarity with danger, and zeal for the service, shewed their effects strongly in Mr. Stokes, who eagerly watched for the sun’s meridian altitude, with his sextant to his eye, while every now and then he caught a hasty glimpse of the foaming and roaring race towards which the little craft were fast approaching. At this crisis a breeze sprung up which just enabled them to pass clear; but no one who was in those vessels can ever forget that day, neither do I think they attribute their preservation to blind chance. Sailors see too many of these ‘chances’ to think of or reflect upon them lightly, and those who have had experience are not wont to forget, that to direct and to preserve are among the least efforts of Omnipotence--so far, at least, as our limited intelligence enables us to discern.

At five that afternoon the Paz and Liebre were about eighteen miles off shore, out of soundings with their lead-lines, and yet were only a mile and half from the eastern part of the race; therefore they still stood to seaward, to get as far as possible from a neighbourhood so dangerous at any time, but especially so at night. For two hours they passed through a rippling, but could strike no soundings with sixty fathoms of line.

In 1830 Mr. Harris (owner of the Paz) sailed from the River Negro in a vessel of about ninety tons, with some horses on board, which he had engaged to convey to a party of gauchoes who were employed on the peninsula of San José, in killing cattle for their hides. Within the Bay of San Matias, about six leagues N.W. of the port (San José), he got into one of these races,[11] and could not extricate his vessel. No soundings could be obtained: the sails were useless in consequence of the violent motion and want of wind, where the water was breaking so furiously, though elsewhere a fresh breeze was blowing; and nothing could be done. The crew took to the rigging, to avoid being washed overboard; and for almost three hours they were tossed about, like an empty bottle in a ripple, before the race abated, with the turn of tide, so as to admit of their sails acting enough to draw them a-head out of the commotion. The vessel, though a strong one, was so much shaken and damaged, the horses so much injured, and all hands so much ‘scared,’ as Harris honestly told me, that he steered back direct for the Negro, forfeited his agreement, and refused to go again.

On the 14th March the Paz and Liebre again crossed the bar of the River Negro, and next day they anchored a-breast of the town (Carmen). Lieut. Wickham found that an expedition had been sent from Buenos Ayres for the purpose of obliging the Indians to retire beyond (southward of) the Negro; and, if possible, deprive them of their horses. Bad weather and a heavy sea on the bar, caused by south-east gales, prevented the Paz and Liebre from sailing again until the 11th of April, when they went to Port San Antonio, and afterwards into Port San José. Plenty of firewood, and abundance of fish, were found at San Antonio; but no fresh water, except by digging wells. The tide-stream rushes into and out of Port San José in a violent manner, especially when opposed by wind; but after the narrow part of the entrance is passed, all agitation of the water ceases, except what may be caused by wind. It is a barren and desolate place, without wood or fresh water, and too large for a harbour. Our party saw proof of this assertion in the wreck of a small vessel at the north-east part of the port, which had been driven from her anchors and totally lost, though she was lying in a land-locked bay, or rather gulf.

On the 6th of May, while returning from San José to the River Negro, our little vessels got into a ripple, which did not break, but had almost the appearance of a whirlpool. There was a hollow short swell, and an irregular motion in every direction, exactly like the boiling of a pot, on a great scale. Here again they could touch no bottom with fifty fathoms of line and a heavy lead. These races and ripplings in such deep water, about the peninsula of San José, are very remarkable; chiefly because there are none such on any other part of the coast. They will be recurred to in a future page of this volume.

May 7th. The Paz and Liebre returned to the Negro, but could not reach an anchorage off Carmen until late the next day, owing to the ‘freshes.’[12] The next occupation for our party was examining and sounding the entrance and bar of the Negro, a task purposely deferred, as being of minor consequence. The mouth of a rapid river like this, subject to floods, and disemboguing at a place exposed to the full force of such a heavy sea as is raised on that coast by a south-east gale, must be frequently changed, as to the detail of its shoals and channels; therefore no plan, however exact at one time, can be depended upon after the lapse of a few years; and no vessel larger than a boat would be justified in attempting to enter without a local pilot, if one can be obtained. In one spot, near Main Point, where a small battery stood in 1826, there were two fathoms water in 1833; and within the same period the deepest water for a few miles within the entrance, changed gradually from the south side to the north. Mr. Darwin was told that the river was called Negro after a cacique of that name; but Falkner asserts that it was so called by the Spaniards, because the aborigines knew it by the name of ‘Cusu Leuvu,’ which means black river.[13]

In May, June, July, and August, the neighbourhood of this river swarms with wild fowl, which migrate from the south, for the winter, and return there to breed about September. The old people foretell a severe winter when they arrive early, and in greater numbers than usual. In 1833-4 they formed the staple article of food for the inhabitants of Carmen during the winter, as the Indians had deprived them of their cattle; in the summer cavies and ostriches supplied their tables. Hunting is a favourite amusement of the Carmenites. They sally forth in large parties on horseback, attended by a motley crowd of dogs, inclose a large extent of country, contract the circle gradually,[14] and at last drive a great number of ostriches, wolves, cavies, deer, foxes, and pumas, into a comparatively small space, when the indiscriminate attack commences--balls and lassoes flying in every direction. Many accidents happen to the horses in these hunts, owing to the ground being so undermined, in some places, by the ‘tucu-tucu,’[15] a little animal like a small rabbit; but the riders are so skilful, that they generally save themselves, however awkwardly their horses may fall. Pumas are an especial object of attack, not only for the risk attached to encountering them, but because they do so much damage to the young animals of all kinds: they have a peculiar method of instantly killing a young colt by breaking its neck with an adroit blow of one paw, while the poor creature is held fast between the other and a most formidably armed mouth. In 1779 there were numerous herds of cattle and horses near the town of Carmen, but incursions of the Indians have diminished them to but few.

During the time of the old Spaniards, after 1783, more than a thousand Indians attacked the settlement at one time. The inhabitants retreated to their caves,[16] where, defended by strong doors, with loop-holes for musketry, they were safe; but their houses were ransacked and burned, and all their animals driven away. Since that time the frequent predatory excursions of minor parties of Indians have prevented the settlers from again attempting to collect animals in large numbers, seeing that they would assuredly tempt the aborigines to repeat their attacks on a greater scale than ever. The old man, who was one of Villarino’s party,[17] gave Mr. Darwin some information about that expedition, which entirely corroborates the interesting account of Basilio Villarino himself, who made his way, by excellent management, and extreme perseverance, to the foot of the Cordillera, though surrounded by Indians suspicious of his intentions. He managed so dexterously as to make one tribe become his firm friends and assistants; and behaved so well himself, in his own enterprises, as well as in his conduct to those under him, as to have obtained their hearty co-operation during eight long months. But he was soon afterwards savagely murdered by the natives during another exploring expedition.[18] The old man said that Villarino was much guided by the account of an Englishman,[19] whose description of the river and Indian country was found to be very accurate. Mr. Darwin heard several anecdotes of the Indians, and their attacks upon the Christians (so they term all white men) which interested me very much; but as I suppose they will be found in his volume, it is unnecessary here to do more than allude to them.

On the 12th May Mr. Usborne, in the Constitucion, anchored in the river, and next day put himself under Mr. Stokes’s orders; to whom Lieut. Wickham gave up the charge of this branch of the survey, and then went on board the Constitucion to hasten towards Maldonado. On the 17th all three little vessels sailed, Lieut. Wickham steering for the Plata, and Mr. Stokes for San Blas.

From this time till the Paz and Liebre were discharged, in August,[20] Mr. Stokes and his party were most zealously occupied between the Negro and Blanco Bay; but time was too fully occupied in the uninteresting, though useful works, of sounding, measuring, observing, and chart-making, to admit of many notices of the country being obtained in addition to those already mentioned; indeed the nature of the coast, almost flat, uninhabited, without trees, and fronted by extensive sand-banks, precluded the possibility of acquiring much information not of a technical nature.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Nine tons burthen.

[2] Fifteen tons.

[3] Sawdust alone would have been better.

[4] The Paz drew five feet and a half, the Liebre four feet.

[5] Showing that this was the period of one of the two floods to which the Negro is annually subject.

[6] I gave them to Sir Francis Chantrey, by whom they were shown to several persons.

[7] Both the vessels had oars.

[8] Falkner, p. 87.

[9] Chupat is the Indian name.

[10] Of about two hundred tons burthen.

[11] The tide-races within the bay are less formidable than those off Point Norte, near which our vessels were.

[12] There are two floods annually: one about December or January, caused by snow melted on the Cordillera; and the other about May or June, occasioned by heavy rains in the interior country. These inundations are very variable.

[13] Falkner, p. 79.

[14] As in eastern countries.

[15] This Indian name, gutturally pronounced, expresses the curious sound made by these creatures while under ground--a noise somewhat like the blow of a distant hammer.

[16] Mentioned in p. 299.

[17] Bowman of his boat (lancha).

[18] Sir Woodbine Parish has given an abridged translation of Villarino’s Diary in the Journal of the R. Geogr. Society for 1836, vol. vi, part ii, pp. 136-167.

[19] Falkner evidently.

[20] Already mentioned, p. 288.

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Chapter XV

Beagle and Adventure sail from Monte Video--Port Desire--Bellaco Rock--Refraction--Port San Julian--Viedma--Drake--Magalhaens --Patagonians--Port Famine--San Sebastian Bay--Woollȳa--Jemmy --Story--Treachery--Oens men--Improvement--Gratitude--Falklands --Events--Capt. Seymour--Search for Murderers--Lieut. Smith --Brisbane--Wreck--Sufferings--Lieutenant Clive--Sail from Falklands.

Dec. 6th, 1833. With a supply of provisions and coals,[1] sufficient for at least nine months, the Beagle and her tender sailed together from Monte Video.

We first touched at Port Desire (23d Dec.), and after passing a very cheerful Christmas-day,[2] and exploring the inlet to its extremity, the Adventure was left to complete some alterations in her masts and rigging while the Beagle would survey the coast between Sea Bear Bay and Port San Julian.

The party who went up the inlet were much struck by the wildness and height[3] of the rocky cliffs which they saw on each side of what appeared to have been the bed of a former river; but could go no further with the yawl than I had been in 1829. This I had foreseen, and therefore Mr. Chaffers, who was in charge of the party, took with him a small dinghy, in which he went on after the yawl was stopped by the mud. Having proceeded two miles further, the prospect changed suddenly; instead of wild glens and precipitous heights of porphyritic rock, low flat banks were seen, covered with rushes near the water, and, further from the stream, with luxuriant pasture. It was almost high water when the dinghy reached this spot and entered a fresh water river about a hundred yards wide, but so shallow that there was only three feet water in the middle. The river narrowed considerably as they ascended, till at the spot where Mr. Chaffers stopped to take sights of the sun, the stream was but forty yards across. In that place the deepest water was three feet at the top of high tide, over a gravelly bottom; but from the level space between the stream and the foot of the nearest hills, about three quarters of a mile, there was reason for supposing that during floods all the valley might be inundated. From a neighbouring hill, four hundred feet in height, the river could be traced several miles further, making a distance of about eight miles seen by our party, in which the water was quite fresh. It was lost to the westward, winding along an irregular break, or cliff-bounded valley, in the distant hills. The only living creature seen, of any size, was a lame horse, feeding near the river. There were no traces whatever of Indians. Having hastened back with the little boat before the river dried[4] (at half-ebb), Mr. Chaffers ascended another hill; but saw little more excepting an appearance of water to the southward, about which he could not clearly distinguish whether it was a lake, part of a river, or a salt-pond. I have no doubt, that during particular seasons a large body of fresh water is brought down this valley, but I do not think the river rises near the Andes, because there is no drift-wood on its banks, and the Indians say nothing of it when enumerating the rivers which cross the continent.

Jan. 4th, 1834. In working out of Port Desire, the Beagle struck her fore-foot heavily against a rock, so as to shake her fore and aft; but on she went with the tide, and as she made no water, I did not think it worth while returning into port. I was instantly convinced that we had hit the very rock on which the Beagle struck in 1829, in the night--a danger we never again could find by daylight till this day, when I was, rather imprudently, going out with the last quarter-ebb. At low-water there are but eight feet on this rock, which is not far from mid-channel, just without the entrance.

We anchored near Watchman Cape, and in other places along the coast, before reaching Port San Julian, and some time was devoted to an examination of the Bellaco Rock and its vicinity, as there is a dangerous reef extending from Watchman Cape towards, but not quite out to the Bellaco.

In my own notes I find this rock mentioned as “almost covered at times, but occasionally showing above water as high as the hull of a ship!” In Mr. Stokes’s journal, left with me, it is mentioned in these words: “Passed between the Bellaco Rocks, close to the eastern one, nearly a-wash;” and in the diary of the Nodales’ voyage (in 1619), it is spoken of as “una baxa que lababa la mar en ella,” which means, a rock a-wash. The rise of tide there is about twenty feet, which explains the various appearances it had to my eye: for at high water I saw it almost covered, or a-wash: and as the Nodales described it similarly in 1619, there can have been extremely little, if any, change in the relative heights of sea and land in this place during the last two hundred and fifteen years.[5] Some time ago I thought differently, having formed a hasty opinion upon the fact of my having seen the rock as high out of water as a ship’s hull. I did not then consider how much the tide falls, nor did I recollect, till I referred to notes, that I had also seen it a-wash (the top almost level with the water), at times during the many days we were in the neighbourhood.

On the day that Mr. Stokes and myself made our respective notes on the Bellaco (without any communication of opinion), an extraordinary effect of refraction was remarked. The meridian altitude of the sun (then far south) observed at opposite horizons, differed no less than sixteen miles! Similar effects had been noticed before, especially on the Patagonian coast, therefore we generally observed both ways; but to nearly such an extent as this we never either before or afterwards witnessed an error arising wholly from the state of the atmosphere near the horizon; causing the visible water-line to be apparently raised several minutes of a degree. On these occasions we always used the mean of the two results, which agreed closely with the latitude resulting from triangular connection with points on the shore, whose latitude we knew by observations made with the artificial horizon.[6]

7th. Mr. Stokes and I landed some leagues northward of Port San Julian, near Cape Look-out, and ascended a level-topped range of hills about 300 feet above the sea. The view we obtained was similar to those so tiresomely common in eastern Patagonia. Level, arid, desert-like plains extended to the horizon: a few irregular hills were seen in the distance; some guanacoes and a few ostriches were here and there discerned; a fox crossed our path, and a condor wheeled overhead; nothing more was noticed.

We returned to the low ground near the sea, and there we found plenty of small wood, stunted shrubby trees, fit for fuel; as well as several ponds of fresh-water. The rise of tide on the shore was considerably more than twenty feet, but we had not time to ascertain it accurately.

9th. Mount Wood,[7] that excellent land-mark for Port San Julian, was seen at daylight: and about noon the Beagle anchored off the bar of the harbour. Mr. Stokes went with me to examine the passage, and before evening our ship was safely moored in the port. This was one, among numerous instances I could mention, where the good qualities of the Beagle, as to sailing and working, saved us days of delay, trouble, and anxiety. All hands immediately set-to about the plan of the port, and such efficient officers as were with me made short work of it. One day Mr. Darwin and I undertook an excursion in search of fresh-water, to the head of the inlet, and towards a place marked in an old Spanish plan, “pozos de agua dulce;” but after a very fatiguing walk not a drop of water could be found. I lay down on the top of a hill, too tired and thirsty to move farther, seeing two lakes of water, as we thought, about two miles off, but unable to reach them. Mr. Darwin, more accustomed than the men, or myself, to long excursions on shore, thought he could get to the lakes, and went to try. We watched him anxiously from the top of the hill,[8] saw him stoop down at the lake, but immediately leave it and go on to another, that also he quitted without delay, and we knew by his slow returning pace that the apparent lakes were ‘salinas.’ We then had no alternative but to return, if we could, so descending to meet him at one side of the height, we all turned eastward and trudged along heavily enough. The day had been so hot that our little stock of water was soon exhausted, and we were all more or less laden with instruments, ammunition, or weapons. About dusk I could move no farther, having foolishly carried a heavy double-barrelled gun all day besides instruments, so, choosing a place which could be found again, I sent the party on and lay down to sleep; one man, the most tired next to myself, staying with me. A glass of water would have made me quite fresh, but it was not to be had. After some hours, two of my boat’s crew returned with water, and we were very soon revived. Towards morning we all got on board, and no one suffered afterwards from the over-fatigue, except Mr. Darwin, who had had no rest during the whole of that thirsty day--now a matter of amusement, but at the time a very serious affair.

Sir Woodbine Parish intends to publish a description of the Spanish settlements on these shores, in which no doubt Viedma’s, at Port San Julian, will have place. A full account of it, in the original language, may be found in the diary of Antonio de Viedma, published at Buenos Ayres, in 1837, by Don Pedro de Angelis. Finding no water near the harbour except after rain, which is there rare, Viedma pitched his tents some leagues inland, near a spring frequented by the Indians, but their doubtful friendship, the progress of scurvy among his own people, their discontent at such a situation, and other reasons, inclined the Spanish viceroy to withdraw the settlement. This dreary port, difficult of access and inhospitable even when the stranger is within its entrance, is well known to readers of early voyages as the place where Magalhaens so summarily quelled a serious mutiny, and conspiracy against his own life, by causing the two principal offenders, captains of ships in the squadron, to be put to death:[9] and as the scene of the unfortunate Doughtie’s mock trial and unjust execution.[10] That two such remarkable expeditions as those of Magalhaens and Drake should have wintered at Port San Julian, and that two such tragedies should have occurred there is remarkable. In the plan of that port we now see Execution Island, Isle of True Justice, (injustice?) and Tomb Point: the two former being names given by Drake.[11] One naturally asks how their ships obtained water, and the answers occurring to me are,--that they were there in the winter season, when the rain which falls is not soon dried up; and that they may have dug wells, which we did not think it worth while to do, having no time to spare.

15th. A French whaler came in over the bar, at high water, without having sounded it, or knowing what depth she would find. The only instance of similar folly I have witnessed was that of a sealing schooner which I met near Port Famine, whose master had taken her through Possession Bay and both Narrows, without knowing that the tide rose and fell there more than six or seven feet, and without a chart of the Strait. When I told this man that the tide rose six or seven fathoms at the First Narrow, he certainly did not believe me. The bar of San Julian is shingle (or gravel), and often altered in form by south-east gales or unusual tides. Under ordinary circumstances the tide rises thirty feet at full moon.

19th. Sailed, and, for once during our experience of these shores, found a heavy swell setting in from the east.[12]

On the 20th we anchored again in Port Desire, and our first employment was to look for the rock whose top (Mr. May assured me with a grave face) we had knocked off with our keel.

22d. Both vessels sailed, and at sunset the Adventure parted company, steering for New Island in the Falklands. Lieutenant Wickham was to make a connected survey of the coast of that archipelago, while the Beagle was in other places.[13] After giving some time to sounding and examining portions of ground in the neighbourhood of Cape Virgins and the eastern entrance of Magalhaens Strait, we passed the First Narrow and anchored in Gregory Bay. There, of course, we had an interview with old Maria and her party. They received us kindly, but with some form, being assembled and seated on the ground near our landing place, with two men standing up in the midst of them, who looked immoveably grave and stupidly dignified. These men were acting as caciques, Maria said, the real chiefs being absent. They were stripped to the waist, and the upper parts of their bodies spotted with white paint.[14] The rest of the people were dressed as usual. An active barter commenced, but the portly actors in the middle did not take part in it, they remained in their solemnity till we left them.

On the 2d of February we anchored in Port Famine, and on the 10th, having obtained chronometric observations for which I went there, we sailed for the neighbourhood of the First Narrow and Lomas Bay (near Point Catherine). We often anchored thereabouts in the prosecution of our work.

On the 17th, as we ran along the curious spit or bank of shingle that fronts San Sebastian Bay, I really could not tell, though I had been in that bay before, whether I had not been deceived as to no channel existing,[15] so well defined and distinct did a wide opening appear. A few more minutes, however, undeceived me: I discerned low flat land stretching along the western horizon: and soon afterwards we anchored in the bay. The following week was occupied in surveying the north-eastern shore of Tierra del Fuego, which, except San Sebastian Bay, does not contain a port. San Vicente Cove is not worth notice as a harbour.

On the 25th, we anchored at the Hermite Islands, on the north-east side of Wollaston Island. Thence, on the 27th, we crossed Nassau Bay to Goree Road, and the following day entered the Beagle Channel.

The 1st of March passed in replenishing our wood and water at a cove, where we had an opportunity of making acquaintance with some Yapoo Tekeenica natives, who seemed not to have met white men before.

Till the 5th the Beagle was actively occupied, by day, in working to windward (westward) through the channel, and then she anchored at Woollȳa. But few natives were seen as we sailed along: probably they were alarmed at the ship, and did not show themselves. The wigwams in which I had left York, Jemmy, and Fuegia, were found empty, though uninjured: the garden had been trampled over, but some turnips and potatoes of moderate size were pulled up by us, and eaten at my table, a proof that they may be grown in that region. Not a living soul was visible any where; the wigwams seemed to have been deserted many months; and an anxious hour or two passed, after the ship was moored, before three canoes were seen in the offing, paddling hastily towards us, from the place now called Button Island. Looking through a glass I saw that two of the natives in them were washing their faces, while the rest were paddling with might and main: I was then sure that some of our acquaintances were there, and in a few minutes recognized Tommy Button, Jemmy’s brother. In the other canoe was a face which I knew yet could not name. “It must be some one I have seen before,” said I,--when his sharp eye detected me, and a sudden movement of the hand to his head (as a sailor touches his hat) at once told me it was indeed Jemmy Button--but how altered! I could hardly restrain my feelings, and I was not, by any means, the only one so touched by his squalid miserable appearance. He was naked, like his companions, except a bit of skin about his loins; his hair was long and matted, just like theirs; he was wretchedly thin, and his eyes were affected by smoke. We hurried him below, clothed him immediately, and in half an hour he was sitting with me at dinner in my cabin, using his knife and fork properly, and in every way behaving as correctly as if he had never left us. He spoke as much English as ever, and, to our astonishment, his companions, his wife, his brothers and their wives, mixed broken English words in their talking with him. Jemmy recollected every one well, and was very glad to see them all, especially Mr. Bynoe and James Bennett. I thought he was ill, but he surprised me by saying that he was “hearty, sir, never better,”[16] that he had not been ill, even for a day, was happy and contented, and had no wish whatever to change his way of life. He said that he got “plenty fruits,”[17] “plenty birdies,” “ten guanaco in snow time,” and “too much fish.” Besides, though he said nothing about her, I soon heard that there was a good-looking[18] young woman in his canoe, who was said to be his wife. Directly this became known, shawls, handkerchiefs, and a gold-laced cap appeared, with which she was speedily decorated; but fears had been excited for her husband’s safe return to her, and no finery could stop her crying until Jemmy again showed himself on deck. While he was below, his brother Tommy called out in a loud tone--“Jemmy Button, canoe, come!” After some time the three canoes went ashore, laden with presents, and their owners promised to come again early next morning. Jemmy gave a fine otter skin to me, which he had dressed and kept purposely; another he gave to Bennett.

Next morning Jemmy shared my breakfast, and then we had a long conversation by ourselves; the result of which was, that I felt quite decided not to make a second attempt to place Matthews among the natives of Tierra del Fuego. Jemmy told me that he knew very little of his own language; that he spoke some words of English, and some Tekeenica, when he talked to his family; and that they all understood the English words he used. York and Fuegia left him some months before our arrival, and went in a large canoe to their own country; the last act of that cunning fellow was to rob poor Jemmy of all his clothes; nearly all the tools his Tekeenica ‘friends’ had left him; and various other necessaries. Fuegia was dressed as usual, and looking well, when they decamped: her helpmate was also well clothed, and had hardly lost anything I left with him. Jemmy said “York very much jaw,” “pick up big stones,” “all men afraid.” Fuegia seemed to be very happy, and quite contented with her lot. Jemmy asserted that she helped to “catch (steal) his clothes,” while he was asleep, the night before York left him naked.

Not long after my departure in February 1833, the much-dreaded Oens-men came in numbers, overland, to Woollȳa; obliged Jemmy’s tribe to escape to the small islands, and carried off every valuable which his party had not time to remove. They had doubtless heard of the houses and property left there, and hastened to seize upon it--like other ‘borderers.’ Until this time York had appeared to be settled, and quite at ease, but he had been employed about a suspiciously large canoe, just finished when the inroad was made. He saved this canoe, indeed escaped in it, and afterwards induced Jemmy and his family to accompany him “to look at his land.” They went together in four canoes (York’s large one and three others) as far west as Devil Island, at the junction of the north-west and south-west arms of the Beagle Channel: there they met York’s brother and some others of the Alikhoolip tribe; and, while Jemmy was asleep, all the Alikhoolip party stole off, taking nearly all Jemmy’s things, and leaving him in his original condition. York’s fine canoe was evidently not built for transporting himself alone; neither was the meeting with his brother accidental. I am now quite sure that from the time of his changing his mind, and desiring to be placed at Woollȳa, with Matthews and Jemmy, he meditated taking a good opportunity of possessing himself of every thing; and that he thought, if he were left in his own country without Matthews, he would not have many things given to him, neither would he know where he might afterwards look for and plunder poor Jemmy.

While Mr. Bynoe was walking about on shore, Jemmy and his brother pointed out to him the places where our tents were pitched in 1833, where the boundary line was, and where any particular occurrence happened. He told Mr. Bynoe that he had watched day after day for the sprouting of the peas, beans, and other vegetables, but that his countrymen walked over them without heeding any thing he said. The large wigwams which we had erected with some labour, proved to be cold in the winter, because they were too high; therefore they had been deserted after the first frosts. Since the last depredations of the Oens-men, he had not ventured to live any longer at Woollȳa; his own island, as he called it, affording safer refuge and sufficient food.

Jemmy told us that these Oens-men crossed over the Beagle Channel, from eastern Tierra del Fuego, in canoes which they seized from the Yapoo Tekeenica. To avoid being separated they fastened several canoes together, crossed over in a body, and when once landed, travelled overland and came upon his people by surprise, from the heights behind Woollȳa. Jemmy asserted that he had himself killed one of his antagonists. It was generally remarked that his family were become considerably more humanized than any savages we had seen in Tierra del Fuego: that they put confidence in us; were pleased by our return; that they were ready to do what we could explain to be for their interest; and, in short, that the first step towards civilization--that of obtaining their confidence--was undoubtedly made: but an individual, with limited means, could not then go farther. The whole scheme, with respect to establishing a missionary with the Fuegians who were in England, among their countrymen, was on too small a scale, although so earnestly assisted by Mr. Wilson,[19] Mr. Wigram, Mr. Coates, and other kind friends.

I cannot help still hoping that some benefit, however slight, may result from the intercourse of these people, Jemmy, York, and Fuegia, with other natives of Tierra del Fuego. Perhaps a shipwrecked seaman may hereafter receive help and kind treatment from Jemmy Button’s children; prompted, as they can hardly fail to be, by the traditions they will have heard of men of other lands; and by an idea, however faint, of their duty to God as well as their neighbour.

That Jemmy felt sincere gratitude is, I think, proved by his having so carefully preserved two fine otter skins, as I mentioned; by his asking me to carry a bow and quiver full of arrows to the schoolmaster of Walthamstow, with whom he had lived; by his having made two spear-heads expressly for Mr. Darwin; and by the pleasure he showed at seeing us all again.

As nothing more could be done, we took leave of our young friend and his family, every one of whom was loaded with presents, and sailed away from Woollȳa.

On the 9th of March we were off Beauchesne Island.[20] Many persons have fancied that there are two islands near together in that place, having been deceived by two hummocks on the only island, which from a distance show just above the horizon like two islets. Next day we anchored in Berkeley Sound; first in Johnson Cove, and afterwards in Port Louis.

We found a state of affairs somewhat different from that of March 1833; but though more settled, in consequence of the presence of an established authority, resident at Port Louis (a lieutenant in the navy), my worst forebodings had not equalled the sad reality.

In a note to page 240, I alluded to the murder of the Buenos Ayrean commanding officer; and to that of Mr. Brisbane. A few weeks before the Clio arrived in 1833, there was a small garrison at Port Louis, consisting of a sergeant’s guard of soldiers, a subaltern, and a field officer. The men mutinied because their superior was thought to be unnecessarily severe, and occupied them unceasingly in drill and parade, to the prejudice of their obtaining food sufficient for health. They were obliged, in consequence of his system, to live upon worse fare than the settlers, because they could not go about to forage for themselves; and the result was that, after many threats, they murdered him. A small armed schooner[21] arrived a few days afterwards from Buenos Ayres, by whose officers and crew, assisted by some French sailors, the principal mutineers, nine in number, were taken and put into confinement on board. They were afterwards carried to Buenos Ayres.

On the 26th of August 1833, three ‘gauchos’ and five Indians[22] (the prisoners before mentioned), set upon and murdered Mr. Brisbane; Dickson, the man in charge of Vernet’s store;[23] Simon, the capataz; the poor German; and another settler; after which atrocious acts they plundered the settlement and drove all the cattle and horses into the interior. Only that morning Mr. Low, who was then living with Mr. Brisbane, left Port Louis on a sealing excursion, with four men. Hardly was his boat out of sight, when the deceitful villains attacked Brisbane in Vernet’s house: suspecting no treachery, he fell at once by the knife of Antonio Rivero. Simon defended himself desperately, but was overpowered; the others, overcome by fear, fell easy victims. The rest of the settlers, consisting of thirteen men, three women, and two children, remained with the murderers two days, and then escaped to a small island in the Sound; where they lived on birds’ eggs and fish, till the arrival of the English sealer Hopeful,[24] on board which was an officer of the navy,[25] who in some measure relieved their immediate distress, but could not delay to protect them from the assaults which they anticipated. About a month after the Hopeful sailed, H.M.S. Challenger, Captain M. Seymour, arrived, having a lieutenant of the navy and four seamen on board, who had volunteered from H.M.S. Tyne, and were duly authorized to remain at the Falklands. The following extract from a letter will show what took place on Captain Seymour’s arrival.

“Captain Seymour, and the consuls, being anxious to visit the settlement of Port Louis, landed some distance from it (the wind being strong from S.S.W.), intending to walk there. About a mile from the houses they were met by an Englishman named Channon, sent by the gauchoes to see who they were, and whether the ship was a whaler in want of beef, or a man-of-war. He informed them that the gauchoes and Indians had murdered Mr. Brisbane: Dickson, who had been left in charge of the flag by Captain Onslow: Simon; and two others: and had pillaged the houses, destroying every thing in their search for money. He then pointed them out, sitting under a wall, with their horses behind the remains of the government house, ready saddled for a start on our nearer approach. They had two gauchoes, prisoners, who had not been concerned in the murders, and whom they threatened to kill, if he, Channon, did not return. He also stated that one of them was willing to turn king’s evidence, and would bring back all the horses, if possible, provided Captain Seymour would ensure his pardon. The whole of them, nine in number, retreated into the interior as soon as they found out it was a ship of war, taking all the tame horses, between fifty and sixty.[26] As his party were not armed, Captain Seymour thought it right to return on board; but after dark, Lieutenant Smith was sent with a party of marines, and two boats, to try and take them, if they should be still about the houses, and to leave with Channon a bottle containing a crucifix, as a signal for Luna.[27] On their landing, Lieutenant Smith took all necessary precautions, left six men in charge of the boats, and proceeded cautiously with the rest. He carefully searched every building in the place, without seeing even a trace of them. All was desolation; yet he learned afterwards from the two innocent gauchoes, that Antonio Rivero and another, suspecting who the party were, had watched them closely: that at one time Lieut. Smith was near treading on them; which seemed hardly credible, until the arrangements made on landing, the marching in Indian file to hide his men, &c. were mentioned. Mr. Smith left with Channon Luna’s pardon, who, on the fourth day, brought in two horses--not having been able to obtain more, as the murderers were very watchful and fearful of each other, so much so, that one of them had fallen a sacrifice to suspicion; and Luna’s desertion reduced their number to six. With Luna for their guide, on the sixth day Lieut. Smith, four midshipmen and twelve marines, were despatched into the interior. They were absent four days, and marched more than a hundred miles, enduring much fatigue, which was increased by the boisterous state of the weather, and by continual rain for three out of the four days. Water in ravines, which on going out hardly rose above their ankles, on their return had increased to torrents: in crossing them some nearly lost their lives, and on the bleak moors they sunk at every step knee-deep in bog. Without sleep or shelter, they lived for the last two days on beef just warmed through, by fires that it took hours to kindle. They were not successful in capturing any of the murderers, but at one time were so near, that they had the mortification to see them drive their horses away at a gallop, and having all the tame ones but two, they were quickly out of reach of musket-shot. So hasty however was their retreat, that they left their provisions behind them. Captain Seymour finding that capturing the Indians would be a tedious and uncertain task, made one of the ruined houses habitable, and leaving six marines as an additional protection to Lieut. Smith and his boat’s crew, proceeded as ordered. The lieutenant endeavoured to make his abode comfortable, by clearing away rubbish and bones, and putting a garden into some order. With the two horses he succeeded in catching and taming two cows, which gave about two gallons of milk daily, besides fourteen others, five or six of which were in calf. By one means or other all but one of the murderers were taken, and a cutter was hired to remove them to the flag-ship at Rio de Janeiro.”

Before the Beagle’s arrival Lieut. Smith had succeeded in capturing the principal murderer, and transporting him to an islet in the Sound, where he was watched, and furnished with provisions by the boat’s crew. The lieutenant applied to me for assistance, and knowing that he was not safe while such a desperate character as Rivero was at large, though on an islet, and that the life of Luna (the king’s evidence) was still more risked, I took those men, and one named Channon, who was said to have been an accomplice in the plot, though not an active agent, on board the Beagle. Rivero was put in irons, Channon confined to the ship, and Luna left at liberty, though watched.

When Mr. Low returned from his sealing expedition he found that his life was sought, as a friend of Mr. Brisbane; and as he could do nothing on foot against the mounted gauchoes, he retired to Kidney Islet, at the entrance of Berkeley Sound, to await the arrival of some ship. Tired, however, of inaction, he set out to go westward, in search of some whaler, and on the 6th of February, when in great distress, he fell in with our tender, the Adventure, and immediately offered his services as a pilot: they were accepted, provisionally, by Lieut. Wickham, and afterwards by me, trusting that the Admiralty would approve of my so engaging a person who, in pilotage and general information about the Falklands, Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia, and the Galapagos Islands, could afford us more information than any other individual, without exception.

Mr. William Low is the son of a respectable land-agent in Scotland; he was brought up as a sailor, and possesses strong common sense, quick apprehension, a readiness at description, and an extraordinary local memory.

On the 13th the Adventure arrived: she had almost completed her examination of the west, south, and south-east outer coasts, in a very satisfactory manner, having been greatly forwarded and helped by Mr. Low’s minute acquaintance with every port, and almost every danger. Our tender sailed to continue her coasting examination on the 21st. She returned on the 26th, and sailed again on the 30th. Meanwhile our own boats were constantly occupied in and near Berkeley Sound and Port William.

When I visited the settlement it looked more melancholy than ever; and at two hundred yards’ distance from the house in which he had lived, I found, to my horror, the feet of poor Brisbane protruding above the ground. So shallow was his grave that dogs had disturbed his mortal remains, and had fed upon the corpse. This was the fate of an honest, industrious, and most faithful man: of a man who feared no danger, and despised hardships. He was murdered by villains, because he defended the property of his friend; he was mangled by them to satisfy their hellish spite; dragged by a lasso, at a horse’s heels, away from the houses, and left to be eaten by dogs.

Besides my own acquaintance with him and opinions derived from the personal knowledge of the Beagle’s officers, some of whom had known Brisbane when his vessel, the Saxe Cobourg, was wrecked in Fury Harbour (owing to no fault of his), Mr. Weddell bears testimony to his character on many occasions, particularly by an observation in page 48 (Weddell’s Voyage), where he says, “I had full confidence in the care and ability of Mr. Brisbane.” (1823.)

In 1830 Mr. Brisbane was wrecked on the eastern coast of Tierra del Fuego, near Policarpo Cove, (54° 38′ S.), when sealing there in partnership with Mr. Bray, who afterwards commanded the sealing schooner ‘Transport,’ lost in 1833, at Hope Harbour. I have a copy of their log in my possession, from which the following extracts are selected, to show with what enduring patience some of those hardy sealers bear misfortune and distress.

“Feb. 23d. Employed saving things from the wreck: six Indians came to us. 24th. Twenty-five Indians came, with their women and children. 25th. Another visit from natives: men, women, and children. 26th. Indians began to be very troublesome. 27th. Forty Indians came to us, all armed with bows, arrows, and slings, without women or children. Some of our people employed in building a shallop out of the wreck. 28th. More Indians, with twelve strong women and eighteen children: but unarmed on this day.

“March 1st. More Indian visitors. 2d. Fifty-one natives, armed.” To the 9th the crew continued to build their shallop, and were almost daily visited by natives, whom two-thirds of the party were obliged to watch with arms in their hands. On the 21st sixty-one natives visited them (these Indians always went away before dusk). On the 23d the time of high-water was observed to be 4^h. 40^m, and the rise seventeen feet, during moderate westerly wind and settled weather. Mr. Brisbane made the latitude, by observation, 54° 38′ S. and the longitude he estimated at 65°. 30′. W. “29th. Much troubled every day by natives, who tried to steal our tools; and hard pressed by hunger. No supper[28] the last three days.

“2d April. Four long guns were found to the eastward, lying on a piece of the forecastle of some large ship, supposed to be a large frigate[29], also two leaden hawse pipes attached to the woodwork. 8th. A large party of Indians, who were plaguing us, quarrelled among themselves, and had a severe fight. 9th. Our last remainder of provisions finished. 15th. Employed caulking the shallop’s deck, and getting limpets from the rocks. N. B. Almost starving. 17th. Not being troubled to-day by natives, and the sea being smooth, went out in a little boat which we had saved, and caught eleven skate.”

After this day several fish were caught at times, which, with shell-fish, afforded a scanty subsistence; but before this time they had been reduced to eating hide, and half putrid blubber, which they got by barter from the Indians. Mr. Bray, as well as Brisbane, told me that hunger and anxiety so wore and excited them, that they could seldom sleep more than an hour or two at night, though working all day, while they were so hard pressed for food.

“22d. Launched the shallop, or rather, hauled her down at low water, and let her float. 24th. Indians more troublesome than ever; obliged to fire at them repeatedly. 27th. Almost starved, eating bullock’s hide. 30th. Nothing to eat but bullock’s hide and berries. Could not get the shallop over the reef because of a heavy surf.

“May 1st. Got out to sea; found the shallop leak very much: nothing to eat but hide. 2d. Lat. 54°. 00′. Long. east. 63°. 50′. 5th. Made Cape Meredith (in the Falklands), but could not get near for want of wind. 6th. Two men gave out[30] for want of food: they had gone six days with but one pound of hide. 7th. A heavy gale; the shallop under bare poles, and almost sinking; sea making a clear breach over her; men quite worn out by constant pumping and baling, and by want of food: we had a very hard job to keep her from sinking: at dusk saw land through the rain and spray, half a mile to leeward; showed the head of the jib, and bore away right before the wind for the nearest part: saw a cove, ran into it, and anchored. Killed numbers of geese; thanked God for our safety. 11th. Many of our men ill from the sudden change. 17th. Went ashore in Pleasant Harbour; saw a great number of cattle; the dog caught two of them, and held them for us to kill.[31] 30th of May. Anchored in Port Louis, landed, and hauled the shallop ashore at high-water.”

The vessel in which Brisbane and Bray were wrecked, was driven ashore in a northerly gale, while sealing near Policarpo Cove. Their crew consisted of about twenty men, most of whom had fire-arms, and plenty of ammunition. Though it will swell yet more the catalogue of his disasters, I must add that Brisbane was once wrecked on South Georgia, and escaped thence to Monte Video in a shallop, which he and his companions in distress built out of the wreck of their sealing vessel. I have now by me two of the tools, almost the only ones, which they had to use: one is a cooper’s adze, nearly worn down to the middle; and the other a saw, made out of a piece of iron hoop, fixed to a wooden frame.

6th April. While the Beagle was preparing for sea the body of Lieut. Clive,[32] late of H.M.S. Challenger, was found lying at high-water mark, in an unfrequented part of Berkeley Sound; and the following morning I buried it in a grave on shore, not far from the tomb of our regretted shipmate Hellyer. After noon, on the same day, we sailed from the Falklands, depressed more than ever by the numerous sad associations connected with their name.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Wood and water being easily procured in the regions we were going to visit, we carried only a month’s store of those essentials.

[2] After noon on the 25th, both crews amused themselves on shore in wrestling, racing, jumping, and various games.

[3] About three hundred feet.

[4] The tide fell more than fourteen feet perpendicularly; but a small brook remained, perhaps a foot deep, winding its course between the uncovered banks.

[5] As the larger and eastern rock is about a hundred yards long and eighty wide, with kelp growing on most parts of it, I do not think the top can wear away while so protected by sea-weed.

[6] Bellaco rocks are the same as Estevan shoal. There are at least two distinct masses of rock. A ship may pass between them.

[7] Nine hundred and fifty feet high.

[8] Named in the plan ‘Thirsty Hill.’

[9] 1520.

[10] Drake’s Voyage, 1578.

[11] And the latter a memento of Lieut. Sholl, of the Beagle, (vol. I.)

[12] I think that this easterly swell must have been caused by a south-east gale, though it came to us from the east.

[13] Appendix, No. 18.

[14] Much as a piece of new knotty wood is spotted with white lead before it receives a coat of paint.

[15] Vol. I. p. 457-8.

[16] A favourite saying of his, formerly.

[17] Excrescences on the birch trees, and berries.

[18] For a Fuegian.

[19] Of Walthamstow.

[20] Near the Falklands.

[21] Sarandi.

[22] Antonio Rivero, J. M. Luna, M. Godoy,--J.Brasido, M. Gonzales, L. Flores, F. Salazar, M. Lattore.

[23] P. 240.

[24] Nov. 1833.

[25] Mr. Rea. The Hopeful belonged to Messrs. Enderby.

[26] Thirteen men and three women had escaped to an island in the Sound, as they could do nothing against the murderers, who had all the arms.

[27] The gaucho who offered to become king’s evidence.

[28] Supper was their principal meal; as during the day, while the Indians were about, they had no time to cook or eat. R. F.

[29] Perhaps the O’Higgins--(Chilian). R. F.

[30] Could work no longer. R. F.

[31] Seized them by the lip. He was a large, strong animal, between a bull-dog and a mastiff. R. F.

[32] Lieut. Clive was drowned accidentally, by the upsetting of a small boat:--his body could not then be found.

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Chapter XVI

Soundings--Anchor in Santa Cruz--Lay Beagle ashore for repair --Prepare to ascend river--Set out--View of surrounding country --Rapid stream--Cold--Ostriches--Guanacoes--Indians--Fish--Cliffs --Firewood--Lava Cliffs--Difficulties--Chalia--See Andes--Farthest West--View round--Return--Danger--Guanaco hunters--Puma--Cat --Tides--Sail from Santa Cruz.

In working to the westward from Berkeley Sound to the River Santa Cruz, we sounded frequently, and found that the depth is nowhere much above one hundred fathoms between those places. But the water is not of so little depth between the Falklands and Cape Virgins, or Tierra del Fuego; for there we could not strike soundings in some places, towards the islands, with one hundred and fifty fathoms of line.

On the 13th we anchored in the Santa Cruz, and immediately prepared to lay our vessel ashore for a tide, to ascertain how much injury had been caused by the rock at Port Desire, and to examine the copper previous to her employment in the Pacific Ocean, where worms soon eat their way through unprotected planks. (16th.) When on the beach, at a place we afterwards called ‘Keel Point,’ it was found that a piece of the false keel under the ‘fore-foot,’ had been knocked off, and that a few sheets of copper were a good deal rubbed. By Mr. May’s exertions all was repaired in one tide; and the following day we were making preparations for an excursion up the river.

17th. An examination, or rather a partial exploring, of the River Santa Cruz had long been meditated. During the former voyage of the Beagle, Captain Stokes had ascended the rapid current as far as a heavy boat could be taken; but his account served only to stimulate our curiosity, and decided my following his example.

Three light boats were prepared (whale-boats strengthened): as much provision as they could stow with safety was put into them, and a party of officers and men selected. Lieut. Sulivan, having to take charge of the ship during our absence, could not go; neither could Mr. Stewart, or Mr. King, who were required to attend to duties on board; but Mr. Darwin, Mr. Chaffers, Mr. Stokes, Mr. Bynoe, Mr. Mellersh, Mr. Martens, and eighteen seamen and marines prepared to accompany me.

Early on the 18th we left the Beagle, and with a favouring wind and flood tide sailed up the estuary, into which the river flows. This wide and turbid estuary receives a torrent which rushes through a confined opening into the ocean, during seven hours, and is opposed and driven back by the flood tide during about five hours of the twelve. On each side of both the estuary and river lie extensive plains of arid desert land: these plains are not, however, on the same level; for, on the northern bank the land is very little raised above the level of high spring tides; while, on the southern side of the river, high, perpendicular cliffs form a striking contrast: but after ascending these heights, by any of the ravines which intersect them, one finds a dead level expanse, similar in every respect to that on the northern shore. In the horizon, another ‘steppe,’ or parallel plain, at a higher elevation, is seen: which, at a distance, appears like a range of hills of equal height.

Excepting in the porphyry districts, all the eastern coasts of Patagonia, and the little of the interior which I have seen, seemed to me to be a similar succession of horizontal ranges of level land varying in height, intersected here and there by ravines and water-courses. There are, certainly, hills in many places which appear when one is passing at sea, or in the distance, conical, or at all events peaked; but even those hills are but the gable ends, as it were, of narrow horizontal ridges of land, higher than the surrounding country.

The cliffs on the south side of the river have a whitish appearance; and are similar to those on the outer coast, which were said by Sir John Narborough to resemble the coast of Kent. Their upper outline, when seen from a distance, is quite horizontal. Brownish yellow is the prevailing colour, lighter or darker, as the sun shines more, or becomes obscured. Here and there, in hollow places and ravines, a few shrubby bushes are seen. But over the wide desolation of the stony barren waste not a tree--not even a solitary ‘ombu’[1]--can be discerned. Scattered herds of ever-wary guanacoes, startled at man’s approach, neighing, stamping, and tossing their elegant heads; a few ostriches striding along in the distant horizon, and here and there a solitary condor soaring in the sky, are the only objects which attract the eye. Certainly, upon looking closely, some withered shrubs and a yellow kind of herbage may be discerned; and, in walking, thorns and prickles assure one painfully that the plain is not actually a desert: but I am quite sure that the general impression upon the mind is that of utter hopeless sterility. Is it not remarkable that water-worn shingle stones, and diluvial accumulations, compose the greater portion of these plains? On how vast a scale, and of what duration must have been the action of those waters which smoothed the shingle stones now buried in the deserts of Patagonia.

Fresh water is seldom found in these wastes; salinas[2] are numerous. The climate is delightful to the bodily sensations; but for productions of the earth, it is almost as bad as any, except that of the Arabian, or African deserts. Rain is seldom known during three quarters of the year; and even in the three winter months, when it may be expected, but little falls excepting on rare occasions, when it comes down heavily for two or three days in succession. Sea winds sometimes bring small misty rain for a few hours, at any time of year, but not enough to do good to vegetable productions. The only animals which abound are guanacoes, and they care little for fresh water, for they have often been seen drinking at the salinas. The puma probably quenches its thirst in their blood; of other animals, supposed to require much liquid, there are none in these regions.

The climate is healthy and pleasant; generally a bright, sunny day is succeeded by a cloudless and extremely clear night. In summer the heat is scorching, but not sultry; and in winter, though the weather is sometimes searchingly cold, especially during southerly winds, the air is always elastic and wholesome. Changes of wind are sudden, and cause rapid, though not very great, variations of temperature. Sometimes the sky is slightly or partially overcast, occasionally clouded heavily; but on most days there is bright sunshine, and a fresh or strong westerly wind.

The confluence of a continental torrent of fresh water, with great tides of the ocean, which here rise forty feet perpendicularly, has embarrassed the mouth of the Santa Cruz with a number of banks. They are all composed of shingle and mud, and alter their forms and positions when affected by river-floods, or by the heavy seas caused by south-east gales.

Into the entrance of the Santa Cruz, the flood-tide sets about four knots an hour; one may say, from two to five knots, according to the time of tide, and the narrower or broader part of the opening; and outwards, the water rushes at least six knots on an average in mid-channel. There are places in which at times, when acted upon by wind or unusual floods, it runs with a velocity of not less than seven or eight knots an hour--perhaps even more; but near either shore, and in bights between projecting points, of course the strength of the outward as well as inward current is very inferior.

In such a bight, almost under some high cliffs on the southern shore, the Beagle was moored, and it is easy to conceive the different views presented in this situation, with forty feet change in the level of the water. At high water, a noble river, unimpeded, moves quietly, or is scarcely in motion: at other times, a rushing torrent struggles amongst numerous banks, whose dark colour and dismal appearance add to the effect of the turbid yellow water, and naked-looking, black, muddy shores.

The boats sailed on between some of the banks, with a fresh southerly wind, disturbing every where immense flights of sea-birds. Now and then a monstrous sea-lion lifted his unwieldy bulk a few inches from the stony bank, lazily looked around, and with a snort and a growl, threw his huge shapelessness, by a floundering waddle, towards the nearest water.

As far as Weddell’s Bluff[3] we sailed merrily; but there took to the oars, because the river makes a sudden turn, or rather, the river Santa Cruz (properly so called), enters the estuary of the same name from the south-west, as far as can be seen from Weddell’s Bluff:--but a little beyond where the eye reaches, it takes a westerly direction. Another river, the Chico of Viedma, also enters the estuary at this place from the north-west. Here, a little above the Bluff, the water was fresh on the surface, and sometimes it is quite fresh, even into the estuary; but in filling casks, or dipping any thing into the stream for fresh water, it is advisable not to dip deep, or to let the hose (if one is used), go many inches below the surface, since it often happens that the upper water is quite fresh, while that underneath is salt. This occurs, more or less, in all rivers which empty themselves into the sea: the fresh water, specifically lighter, is always uppermost.

Wind failing us entirely, we pulled to the south-west. On our left, high cliffs still continued, and at their base a wide shingle beach offered tempting landing-places, with many spots extremely well adapted for laying a vessel ashore, to be repaired or cleaned; on our right, a low shore extended, rising gradually, however, in the north-west,[4] to cliffs like those near Keel Point.

The flowing tide favoured us until about five, when we landed on the north shore, at a spot where the rise and fall of the tide had diminished to four feet. Here the river was six hundred and forty yards in breadth, running down at the rate of about six knots during a part of the ebb, and from two to four knots an hour during the greater part of the flood-tide. It was perfectly fresh to the bottom, and in mid-channel about three fathoms deep; but this depth extended very little way across, the deep channel being extremely narrow, not more than twenty yards in width.

The distinct difference between the opposite banks of the river had been diminishing, until at this spot[5] both sides were much alike. We had left the cliffs and salt water, and had fairly entered the fresh-water river. Instead of having a wide extent of dismal-looking banks and dark-coloured muddy shores, we were at the side of a rapid stream, unvarying in width, on whose banks shrubs and grass agreeably relieved our eyes from muddy shingle covered with hosts of crabs.

Our first night passed well, for there were plenty of bushes to supply us with fire-wood. Early next morning, some of the party went upon the nearest hills to look for guanacoes, when they saw that although the surface of the country appeared to an observer near the river to be irregular and hilly, upon ascending the heights it became apparent that the stream ran in a large valley; that the general character of the country was similar to what I have already described, and that those which had appeared to be hills were the terminating sides of extensive plains, whose level was about three hundred feet above the river. Near the fresh water, shrubs, bushes, and grass were not scarce; but every where on the higher ground a sterile, stony waste met the eye. Mr. Stokes[6] and I went on the heights, to obtain a view of the river; and for a considerable distance we could trace its windings, but were sorry to see a great number of small islands, thickly covered with brushwood, which seemed likely to impede our progress if obliged to track[7] the boats.

The southerly wind blew keenly over the high land, and the surface of the ground was frozen hard; but the air was healthily fresh and bracing. Where, indeed, could it be purer than on these dry hills? At first setting out we tried the oars, but very soon found them unable to contend with the strength of the stream; so landing all our party, except two in each boat, we made the boats fast to one another, at a few yards apart, in a line a-head: and then taking the end of a coil of whale-line ashore, half our party fixed themselves to it by laniards of broad canvas straps, which passed across their breasts and over one shoulder, and walked together steadily along the river’s bank. The bight of the line was passed round a stout mast, stepped in the headmost boat and attended by the two men, who veered away or shortened in the line as the varying width of the stream, or frequent impediments rendered necessary. In this manner, one-half of our party relieving the other about once an hour, every one willingly taking his turn at the track rope,[8] we made steady progress against the stream of the river, which rather increased in rapidity as we ascended, until its usual velocity was between six and seven knots an hour. While among the islands which I mentioned tracking was difficult and tedious, many were the thorny bushes through which one half of the party on the rope dragged their companions. Once in motion no mercy was shewn: if the leading man could pass, all the rest were bound to follow. Many were the duckings, and not trifling the wear and tear of clothes, shoes, and skin. At intervals stoppages were made for refreshment and observations.

Three chronometers were carried in the boats, with other necessary instruments: among them two mountain barometers, with which Mr. Darwin and myself wished to measure the height of the river above the level of the sea, and the heights of the neighbouring ranges of hills above the level of the river. This afternoon we picked up a boat-hook upon the south bank of the river, which was immediately recognized to be one which had been left by accident sticking in a mud-bank, by the party who accompanied Captain Stokes in his excursion up this river in the year 1827.

It was very cold at our bivouac this night, being a sharp frost: and while observing the moon’s meridian altitude, dew was deposited so fast upon the roof of the artificial horizon, and froze there so quickly as it fell, that I could hardly make the observation. My sextant was injured a little by the frost, for not having been used before in very cold weather, the brass contracted so much as to injure the silvering at the back of the index glass, and slightly change the index error.

In the morning it was so cold that our usual ablutions were shunned, and all were anxious to have the first spell at the rope in order to warm themselves, though few had slept many minutes, and many had hard work the previous day. The thermometer was at 22° Fahr.--nothing,--indeed warm weather to Polar voyagers, but to us, accustomed to temperate climates, it appeared a severe degree of cold.

20th. As we were going along the bank of the river, which to our great benefit was becoming more accessible and clearer of bushes, we saw some dark coloured animals crossing the stream at a distance, but no one could guess what they were until the foremost of them reached the shore, and rising upon his stilt-like legs, showed himself to be an ostrich. Six or seven of these birds were swimming across: till then I had no idea that so long-legged a bird, not web-footed, would, of its own accord, take to the water and cross a rapid stream: this, however, was a certain proof to the contrary, for nothing had disturbed them that we could discern. As far as we could tell, at so great a distance, they seemed to be of the kind which the Spanish-patagonians call ‘Avestruz-petis.’ They were, however, far too wild to be approached with a gun. We saw smoke at a distance and anticipated meeting Indians, in the course of our next day’s journey. The country around continued similar to that already described: but islands no longer impeded our progress, though some high cliffy banks gave us trouble. At the next place where we passed a night, Mr. Darwin tried to catch fish with a casting net, but without success; so strong a stream being much against successful fishing. A very sharp frost again this night. The net and other things, which had occupied but little room in the boat, were frozen so hard as to become unmanageable and very difficult to stow.

21st. We proceeded as usual, dragging the boats up the stream (or rather torrent, for it never ran less than six knots, and in many places more) at the rate of about two miles an hour: and as we were approaching near to the smoke, we chose our position for the night, rather more cautiously than usual, upon a little peninsula.

22d. We had not advanced a mile this morning, when fresh tracks of Indians, on horseback, trailing their long lances, aroused our utmost vigilance. We thought they had been reconnoitring our party, at day-light, and perhaps such was the case. The smoke of their fires was seen behind the nearest range of low hills, on our side of the river, being then on the north bank, but the boats had been tracking on either side, as better ground for walking was found. Proceeding on, a dead animal was found in the water, which proved to be a guanaco; how it came by its death did not appear, as it showed no external wound, but some of our party, hungrier or less squeamish than the rest, immediately proposed dividing and eating it; and hunger carried the day: the dead animal was hauled on shore, cut to pieces, and distributed. The guanaco steaks were much relished by all except two or three, who could not conquer their antipathy to supposed carrion. Our meal was eaten close to the place where we thought a tribe of Indians was encamped: and, in consequence, our arms were kept in readiness, and a careful watch set. Afterwards cautiously proceeding, we arrived at the spot whence the smoke had issued, but saw no human beings: though marks of very recent fire, and numerous tracks of feet upon a soft muddy place at the side of the river, showed that a party of Indians had lately crossed over, and a smoke rising at some distance on the southern shore, pointed out where they were gone. At this spot there was about an acre of good pasture land, by the water side: and the breadth of the river itself was something less than usual, reasons which had induced the natives to select it as a crossing place.[9] To pass a river running at the rate of six or seven miles an hour, and about two hundred yards in width, can be no easy task to women and children. But as we saw many prints of very small feet on the muddy bank, both women and children must have crossed at this place with the men. How did they get over? there is no wood, neither are there rushes with which they might make balsas.[10] Perhaps some of the women and children were put into rough, coracle-like boats, made of hides,[11] and towed across by the horses, holding by whose tails the men swam and perhaps many of the women. This method of holding by the tail, while swimming, is said to be better than resting a hand upon the horse’s neck and holding by the mane. None of the Indians sit upon their horses while swimming.

This day (22d) we passed two places which we considered rapids, the stream of the river ran so violently, and we had so much difficulty in passing, even with all hands upon the rope. Besides the strength of the stream we had to contend against high cliffs, over whose upper edges it was difficult to convey the tow-line: yet we made good about twelve miles in the day. The night of the 22d was not so cold as the preceding, but we always found the nights wintry though the days were warm, so much so, indeed, that we were often annoyed by the heat of the sun. So winding was the course of the river that we certainly walked double the distance which was advanced in a direct line: yet very little of interest, as a picturesque subject, had been seen; for no country excepting a desert could wear a more triste and unvarying appearance.

Immense accumulations of shingle, rounded stones, imbedded, as before mentioned, in diluvial deposition, form the level plain, or valley, through which the river pursues its very winding course. The width of this vale varies from one mile to five miles, and the level of the shingle plain is from three hundred to one thousand feet below that of the adjacent higher, but still horizontal ranges--whose broken-down ends, or sides, form the boundaries of the valley through which the river flows. Those of the higher ranges look like hills when one is in the valley, and it is not until after ascending to their summits that their real nature is seen; when, instead of being inclined to consider those heights as hills, one becomes disposed to think the valley of the river a vast excavation, cut down below the level of the neighbouring country. But on the height, or in the valley, all is an unprofitable waste. Scarcely, indeed, could we find bushes enough, even near the river, to make our nightly fires, after the third day’s journey. The wiry, half-withered grass upon which the guanacoes feed is so scanty, that they are obliged to wander over much ground in search of their food. Those few stunted bushy trees which are found here and there, near the river, are a kind of thorn trees, the wood of which is extremely hard and durable.[12] The night of the 22d we passed by the side of a little cove, which sheltered the boats from the strength of the stream: and, as all hands were tired, we rested during the morning of the following day.

After noon (23d) we went on, and at dark stopped on the south shore. Scarcity of fuel and a cold night, made it necessary to take good care of the wood when cut. There may be honour among thieves, but there was little to be found during a cold night among our party, for the fire of those who happened to be on watch was sure to blaze cheerily, at the expense of the sleepers. A little incident occurred here very unimportant certainly to those unconcerned, yet of much consequence to us: we left our stock of salt behind, and a spade, which latter was much wanted for earthing up the sides of our tents, to keep out the cold wind.

24th. I noticed more than usual a curious effect of the river water being so much warmer than the air over it.[13] At daybreak, and until after sunrise, the river was smoking, quite as if it were boiling. This day we passed some earthy cliffs between two and three hundred feet in height, and where they came in our way it was extremely difficult to manage the boats and tow-lines; but by veering out at those times a great length of rope, our object was accomplished without any disaster. Near these cliffs the valley of the river begins to contract and become more irregular, and the sides or breaking down of the higher ranges become more abrupt and are nearer to the river. In most places we found a cliffy side opposite to a low projecting point of shingle, but in some spots that we passed both sides were high, and we had no choice on which to take the tow-line. The difference, also, between the level of the higher ranges and that of the river, was observed to be much increased.

On this day (25th) our best shots succeeded in killing two guanacoes, but they died out of our reach, and probably became food for pumas, instead of man. The order of our march was usually one or two riflemen in advance, as scouts--Mr. Darwin, and occasionally Mr. Stokes, or Mr. Bynoe, upon the heights--a party walking along the banks, near the boats, ready to relieve or assist in tracking, and the eight or ten men who were dragging the three boats along at the rate of about two miles an hour over the ground, though full eight knots through the water. Difficult places to pass--delays caused by embarking and disembarking frequently to change banks, and avoid impediments--the necessary observations, rest, and meals, occupied so much time that we did not average more than twelve miles in one day: and even that small distance was not accomplished without making both shoulders and feet sore.

26th. In the distance some very level topped, dark looking cliffs, were seen at the summits of elevated ranges, which Mr. Darwin thought must have a capping or coating of lava. Of course we were very anxious to verify a fact so curious, and at noon were quite satisfied that it was so, having approached to the foot of a height thus capped, whose fragments had in falling not only scattered themselves over the adjacent plain, but into the bed of the river, in such a manner as to make the passage exceedingly dangerous; because large angular masses, in some places showing above the stream in others hidden beneath, but so near the surface that the water eddied and swelled over them, menaced destruction to the boats as they were with difficulty dragged through the eddying rapid; sometimes the rope caught under or around one of those masses, and caused much trouble. Near the spot where we stopped at noon there is a glen, quite different in character from any place we had passed.[14] Indeed, upon entering the lava district, or that part of the country over which lava formerly flowed, there was no longer a Patagonian aspect around. Steep precipices, narrow, winding vallies, abundance of huge angular fragments of lava, a more rapid and narrower river, and plains of solid lava overlying the whole surface of the country, make this district even worse in its appearance than the eastern coast of Patagonia. Excepting in an occasional ravine nothing grows, Horses could not travel far, the ground being like rough iron; and water, excepting that of the river and its tributary in Basalt Glen, is very scarce.

The glen above mentioned is a wild looking ravine, bounded by black lava cliffs. A stream of excellent water winds through it amongst the long grass, and a kind of jungle at the bottom. Lions or rather pumas shelter in it, as the recently torn remains of guanacoes showed us. Condors inhabit the basaltic cliffs. Near the river some imperfect columns of basalt give to a remarkable rocky height, the semblance of an old castle. Altogether it is a scene of wild loneliness quite fit to be the breeding place of lions.[15]

No signs of human visitors were discovered: indeed, the nature of the country must almost prevent horsemen from traversing these regions, there is so little food and such bad ground: only in glens or ravines such as this can any grass or bushes be found. Guanacoes absolutely swarm upon the heights, a consequence probably of their being undisturbed. They spread over the face of the high country like immense flocks of sheep.

During a long walk this evening Mr. Stokes and I were repeatedly disappointed by the mirage over an extensive stony plain, between two bends of the river. We were tired and very thirsty, and went from one apparent piece of water to another, only to be tantalized and to increase still more our dilemma.

27th. Similar country. On the banks of the river some drift wood was found; the trunks of trees of considerable size. Small trees had been found lying by the side of the river, from time to time, but none so large as these, some of which were almost two feet in diameter, and about thirty feet in length. The wood appeared to be ‘Sauci,’ of the red kind. That these trees had been drifted from a great distance was evident, because they were much water-worn.

28th. In passing a rapid, whose difficulties were much increased by rugged blocks of lava lying in the bed of the river, one of our boats was badly stove and barely rescued from sinking in the middle of the stream: fortunately we got her on shore and there patched her up. There was still no change in the scenery, nor any signs of inhabitants: and our work was as monotonous as heavy.

29th. While upon a high range of lava-capped land, Mr. Stokes and Mr. Darwin descried distant mountains in the west, covered with snow. At last, then, the Andes were in sight! This was inspiriting intelligence to the whole party; for small had been our daily progress, though continual and severe the labour. The river increased in rapidity, while but little diminution had taken place in the quantity of water brought down: the breadth was rather less, certainly, but the depth in most places greater. No fish had yet been caught; indeed, only two had been seen, and those seemed to be like trout.

30th. The snowy summits of the distant Cordillera were more distinctly seen from the heights, near the river, that rise about a thousand feet above its level, which, there, is about three hundred feet above that of the sea. Two guanacoes were shot with my rifle by H. Fuller,[16] who hastened to the boats for assistance. Some of our party went directly with him to bring in the animals, but condors and cara-caras[17] had eaten every morsel of the flesh of one; though the other was found untouched and brought to the boats. Four hours had sufficed to the cara-caras and condors for the cleaning of every bone.[18] When our party reached the spot some of those great birds were so heavily laden that they could hardly hop away from the place. The guanaco that was eaten by the birds must have been, by his size, at least fifty pounds heavier than any shot by us in Patagonia, therefore about 300lbs. Mr. Darwin and Mr. Stokes had much amusement with these animals, upon the heights. Being so much tamer there and more numerous, whole flocks were driven by them into narrow defiles, where dozens might have been killed had there been more people with guns, lassoes, or balls.

Though the bed of the river is there so much below the level of the stratum of lava,[19] it still bears the appearance of having worn away its channel, by the continual action of running water. The surface of the lava may be considered as the natural level of the country, since, when upon it, a plain, which seems to the eye horizontal, extends in every direction. How wonderful must that immense volcanic action have been which spread liquid lava over the surface of such a vast tract of country. Did the lava flow from the Cordillera of the Andes, or was it thrown out from craters in the low country? Its position with respect to subaqueous deposits, its horizontal surface and cellular texture, are reasons, among others, for thinking that it was thrown out of the earth, while these plains were covered by a depth of sea.

The valley, or channel of the river, varies here from one mile, or less, to about three miles; but it looks narrower, owing to the deception caused by high land on each side. Some of the views are certainly striking, and, from their locality, interesting; I could not, however, have believed that the banks of any large fresh water river could be so destitute of wood, or verdure of any kind, or so little frequented by man, beast,[20] bird, or fish.

May 1st. The weather was invariably fine during the earlier part of our journey; but this day it began to change, and two or three gloomy clouded days were succeeded by a few hours only of small rain, and by some strong wind. This night (1st) we slept at the foot of heights whose summits were covered with snow, but the temperature was many degrees warmer than that of the first nights, when it froze so sharply. There was no particular frost after the 21st of April.

We had great difficulty with the boats on the 2d, the river being contracted in width, without any diminution of the body of water pouring down.

On the 3d, we found a more open country, the lava-capped heights receding gradually on each side, leaving a vale of flat, and apparently good land, from five to fifteen miles in extent. The width of the river increased; on its banks were swampy spaces, covered with herbage; and low earthy cliffs, without either shingle or lava, in some places bounded the river. A little further, however, the usual arid and stony plains of Patagonia were again seen, extending from the banks of the river to ranges of hills, about fourteen hundred feet above its level, on which the horizontal lava-capping could be distinctly discerned.

In the distant west the Cordillera of the Andes stretched along the horizon. During three days, we had advanced towards those far distant mountains, seeing them at times very distinctly; yet this morning our distance seemed nearly as great as on the day we first saw their snow-covered summits. A long day’s work carried us beyond the flat and into the rising country, whose barren appearance I just now mentioned. We were all very tired of the monotonous scene, as well as of the labour of hauling the boats along.

4th. Our provisions being almost exhausted, and the river as large as it was beyond the lava country, our allotted time being out, and every one weary and foot-sore, I decided upon walking overland to the westward, as far as we could go in one day, and then setting out on our return to the Beagle. I was the more inclined to this step, because the river here made a southerly bend, to follow which would have required at least a day, without making much westing, and because I thought that some of our party might walk in that time at least twice as far as they could track the boats, and then return before night. To have followed the course of the river two days longer, we should have needed all the small remainder of our provisions, and probably without being enabled to see further than we might by one day’s walk directly westward. Leaving those who were the most tired to take care of the boats, a party set out early, in light marching order. A large plain lay before us, over which shrubs, very small trees, and bushes were sparingly scattered; yet parts of this plain might be called fertile and woody, by comparison with the tracts between us and the eastern sea-coast.

At noon we halted on a rising ground, made observations for time, latitude, and bearing; rested and eat our meal; on a spot which we found to be only sixty miles from the nearest water of the Pacific Ocean. The Cordillera of the Andes extended along the western side of our view; the weather was very clear, enabling us to discern snow-covered mountains far in the north, and also a long way southward; hence much of the range was visible, but of the river we could discern nothing. Only from the form of the land could we conclude that at the end of the southerly reach I have mentioned, the direction of the river is nearly east and west for a few miles, and that then it may turn northward, or rather come from the north along the base of the Cordillera.

There are many reasons for inducing one to suppose that it comes not only from the north, but from a considerable distance northward. At the place where we ceased to ascend the stream, the Santa Cruz was almost as large as at the places where we passed the first and second nights near the estuary. The velocity of the current was still at least six knots an hour; though the depth remained undiminished. The temperature of the water was 45°, while that of the air was seldom so high, even in the day-time, and at night was usually below the freezing point. Trees, or rather the trunks of trees, were found lying upon the banks, whose water-worn appearance indicated that they had been carried far by the stream. The water was very free from sediment, though of a whitish blue colour, which induces me to suppose that it has been chiefly produced by melted snow, or that it has passed through lakes in which the sediment it might have brought so far was deposited. If filled from the waters of the nearer mountains only, its temperature would surely be lower, approaching that of melted snow: it would also, in all probability, bring much sediment, and would therefore be muddier, and less pure in colour.

When one considers how large an extent of country there is between the River Negro and the Strait of Magalhaens, and that through that extensive region only one river of magnitude flows, it may be difficult to account for the manner in which the drainage of the eastern side of the great Cordillera is carried off, or where the melted snow and occasional heavy rains disappear.

The Gallegos is small, though it runs into a large estuary. The Chupat river is very small: that at Port Desire is scarcely more than a brook. At times, it is true, these smaller rivers are flooded, but their floods (added to their usual streams) seem unequal to carrying off the continual drainage of the Andes. South of the Negro only the Santa Cruz flows with a full and strong stream throughout the whole year, and my idea is that the sources of the river Santa Cruz are not far from those of the southern branch of the Negro, near the forty-fifth degree of latitude; and that it runs at the foot of the Andes, southward, through several lakes, until it turns to the eastward in the parallel of fifty degrees.

In Viedma’s Diary I find that he heard from the Indians at Port San Julian (in 1782) that the river Santa Cruz flowed from a large lake near the Cordillera of the Andes, and that there was abundance of wood on its banks. In consequence of this information, he went, in November, with a party of Spaniards and Indians on horseback, to explore this lake. In his way, Viedma crossed the river Chico, which flows into the estuary of the Santa Cruz, just above Weddell Bluff. The Chico, though small at times and then fordable, was subject, the Indians said, to great floods in the spring, when the melting snows of the Cordillera over-filled a lake, far in the north-west, whence this river ran. Afterwards, Viedma crossed the river Chalia, which they told him rose in another lake near the Cordillera, was likewise subject to floods, and emptied itself into the Santa Cruz: when he passed, it was only up to the horses’ knees (after searching many leagues, however, for a ford), but at his return it was deeper. This Chalia can be no other than the stream which flows through Basalt Glen, a mere brook when we saw it in the dryest season of the year. Viedma reached the lake,[21] and found every thing correspond to the description; for it was deep and large, surrounded by snow-covered mountains, on which were many forests.

Some persons have doubted whether there is ever much drainage to be carried off from the eastern side of the Andes, between the parallels of forty and fifty; but if they will take the trouble to read Viedma’s Diary, and some other notices to be found in the work of Don Pedro de Angelis, I think they will be convinced that there is always a considerable drainage, and that at times there are heavy floods to be carried off.[22]

Reference to the accompanying plan will shew our position when we halted, and I decided to return, not having explored, I should think, more than one-third of its course. At that place the level of the river was found to be four hundred feet higher than that of the sea at the entrance; and as the distance is about two hundred miles,[23] the average descent or fall of the water must be near two feet in a mile, which, I apprehend, is unusually great. I could not, indeed, believe that the computation and data were correct, until after repeated examination.[24] Two barometers were used at the river-side, and a very good one was carefully watched on board the Beagle.[25] Certainly, the rapid descent of the river, in many places, was such, that even to the eye it appeared to be running down-hill; and this remark was often made in the course of our journey.

Two days before we reached our westernmost point, many traces of an old Indian encampment were seen; but excepting at that place and at the spot which we passed on the 22d, no signs of inhabitants were any where found. Scarcity of pasture, and the badness of the ground for their horses’ feet, must deter Indians from remaining in this neighbourhood; but that they frequently cross the river, when travelling, is well known.

The quantities of bones heaped together, or scattered near the river, in so many places which we passed, excited conjectures as to what had collected them. Do guanacoes approach the river to drink when they are dying? or are the bones remains of animals eaten by lions or by Indians? or are they washed together by floods? Certain it is they are remarkably numerous near the banks of the river; but not so elsewhere.

I can hardly think that the guanaco is often allowed to die a natural death; for pumas are always on the alert to seize invalid stragglers from the herd. At night the guanacoes choose the clearest places for sleeping, lying down together like sheep; and in the day they avoid thickets, and all such places as might shelter their ever-watchful enemy. Condors, also, and fierce little wild cats[26] help to prevent too great an increase of this beautiful, inoffensive, and useful animal.

Late on the 4th we returned to our tents, thoroughly tired by a daily succession of hard work, and long walks. At this bivouac we were about one hundred and forty miles, in a straight line, from the estuary of Santa Cruz, or from Weddell Bluff; and about two hundred and forty-five miles distant by the course of the river. Our station at noon on the 4th, was eight miles in a straight line farther westward, and about thirty miles from the Cordillera of the Andes. The height of those mountains was from five to seven thousand feet above our level, by angular measurement with a theodolite. Early on the 5th we began the rapid descent. Sometimes the wind favoured, and we passed the land at the rate of ten knots an hour; sometimes dangerous places obliged us to turn the boat’s head to the stream, pull against it, and so drop down between the rocks. Though easy, the return was far more dangerous than our ascent of the river.

5th. Our first day’s work in returning was a distance of eighty-five miles, which had cost us six days hard labour in ascending. Next day we made good about eighty-two miles; and on the 7th we reached the salt water. Although we made such quick progress in returning, our halts for observations were similar to those made in going. While descending the rapid stream, so quickly and quietly, we saw many more guanacoes and ostriches than we had seen before; but our flying shots only frightened them, and time was too precious to admit of any delay. Only one fish was got, and that was a dead one, which had been left on the bank: it was similar to a trout. Not more than half a dozen live fish were seen, and none could be caught either with hooks or nets. Leaving a very small party near Weddell Bluff to look for guanacoes, I hastened on board with the boats; and with the ebb tide reached the Beagle before noon on the 8th. The ship being ready for sea, excepting a ton or two of fresh water, the yawl and cutter were dispatched to get it and bring on board the shooting party. During my absence satisfactory observations on the tides had been made, which showed that the neap tides rise about eighteen feet, and the springs from thirty-eight to forty-two feet. One day when walking through a woody ravine, not far from the anchorage, Mr. Stewart saw a puma lying under a bush, glaring at him: taking a steady aim, he fired, and laid the animal dead. It was a very large one; and the skin is now in the British Museum. The moment of thus looking a lion in the face, while taking aim, at only a few yards distance, must be somewhat trying to the nerves, I should imagine. A beautiful wild cat was also added to our collections, besides condors and foxes.

9th. The boats, and shooting party, arrived with water and two guanacoes. As the sportsmen were returning with their burthens on the preceding evening, darkness overtook them while yet distant from their tent; and they were soon made uncomfortably[27] conscious that an enemy was at hand, for the strong and peculiar smell of a lion warned them that one was near. They trudged on with their cargoes, talking to one another; but the scent was still strong until they approached the fire, which had been kept up by their companion, when it ceased entirely. Such a weight as a lion’s, added suddenly to that of a guanaco, would have been rather distressing.

We were detained for a day or two by an overcast sky, which prevented my obtaining equal altitudes; but on the 12th the Beagle left the Santa Cruz, and stood towards the alleged place of the shoal, or rock, called ‘Aigle,’ not far from the westernmost of the Falkland Islands. No such danger, nor any sign of shallow water being found, but, on the contrary, no bottom with one hundred fathoms of line, we steered towards Magalhaens Strait, and on the 18th anchored off Cape Virgins. Next morning I landed on the Cape, taking Mr. Darwin and Mr. Stokes with me, and remained till after the noon observation, when, returning on board, the Beagle weighed and sailed to another station. From this time (till the 25th) we were busily employed in sounding in the neighbourhood of Cape Virgins, Point Catherine, Lomas Bay, and Possession Bay.

On the 23d, at day-light, we saw the Adventure coming from the Falklands. After communicating with us, she went on to survey the portion of coast extending from Sweepstakes Foreland to Cape Monmouth; and we remained to complete our own task of sounding the banks about the First Narrow, and examining the south shore of St. Philip Bay. On the 3d of June both vessels were moored in Port Famine, preparing for their passage to San Carlos in Chilóe.

* * * * *

The next chapter will take the Beagle into the Pacific by a route not hitherto used, except by sealing vessels: although it possesses many advantages over either the passage round Cape Horn, or that through the western reaches of the Strait of Magalhaens. Mr. Low is said to be the first discoverer of it, and he certainly was the first to pass through in a ship; but I think one of the Saxe Cobourg’s boats had passed through it previously, and I much question whether Sir Francis Drake’s shallop did not go by that opening into the Strait of Magalhaens in 1578.[28]

Before I finally leave Tierra del Fuego, a remark or two may here be made respecting the language of the natives. ‘Pichi,’ in the Huilli-che or Araucanian language, means ‘small’ or ‘a little,’ and ‘re’ signifies ‘only,’ ‘but,’ ‘purely,’ or ‘simply.’ Hence, Pecheray, always uttered in a begging, or whining tone, may have some such signification. In Beauchesne’s voyage it is said, that the natives in the Eastern parts of Magalhaens Strait were called ‘Laguedi-che,’ and those westward, ‘Haveguedi-che.’[29] These words are to me very interesting, because I suppose the first to be a corruption of Laque-che, which means, in Araucanian, ‘People with balls’ (bolas), and the second is not far removed from Huapi-gulu-che, which means ‘people of mountainous islands heaped together,’ terms respectively most appropriate for natives of eastern and western Tierra del Fuego.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] A kind of elder, growing here and there in Patagonia and the Pampas. See page 93.

[2] Salt depositions or incrustations.

[3] Named after the enterprizing southern navigator.

[4] On the south side of the north-west arm of the Santa Cruz.

[5] The northern bight, or cove, a few miles north-eastward of Islet Reach.

[6] It was his office to make a map of the country we passed through.

[7] Pull, or tow them along by a rope.

[8] Mr. Stokes alone being excepted, as his duty required continual attention.

[9] Marked ‘Indian Pass’ on the plan.

[10] Floats or rafts.

[11] “Me envió tres indios nadadores, provisto de cueros y palos para formar una pelota.” (Diario de Viedma, p. 58.)

[12] A guanaco was shot this day by the running fire of several guns. He was soon cut up and stowed in the boats.

[13] The temperature of the air being 30°, that of the water 46°.

[14] ‘Basalt Glen.’

[15] “Leonum arida nutrix.”

[16] My steward.

[17] A carrion-eating eagle.

[18] The animal thus eaten lay on high ground: the other was in a hollow.

[19] From ten to twelve hundred feet.

[20] Excepting guanacoes.

[21] Called Capar, or Viedma. MS. Chart.

[22] As one proof of this assertion, I may quote a passage from Viedma:--“Reconocido pues todo” (all that there was to see in the neighbourhood of the lake whence the Santa Cruz flowed), “nos expusó el Indio Patricio nos debiamos apartar luego de aquí, porque con los vientos fuertes, y el sol, solia derretirse tanta nieve que era imposible vadear los arroyos para regresar, y tendriamos que pasar el verano en aquel pasage hasta que las heladas empezasen.”--(Diario de Viedma, p. 57.)

[23] Following the course of the river.

[24] The data will be found in the Appendix.

[25] At the level of the sea.

[26] Though the wild cat could not injure a full-grown animal, it might destroy a young one with great ease.

[27] Being only two in number.

[28] See Burney, vol. i. p. 368 and p. 327, where he shows that Drake discovered Cape Horn, and anchored near it (in or near St. Martin Cove?) in 1578. Another early southern discovery is mentioned in vol. ii. p. 198, where it is stated that Dirck Gherritz discovered land in 64°. S. in 1599, (part of or near South Shetland?)

[29] Voyage of Beauchesne, in Burney’s History, vol. iv. p. 378.

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Chapter XVII

Beagle and Adventure sail from Port Famine through Magdalen and Cockburn Channel--Enter Pacific--Death of Mr. Rowlett--Chilóe--Chile --Government--Adventure sold--Consequent changes--Plans--Mr. Low --Chonos--Lieut. Sulivan’s party--Moraleda--Ladrilleros--De Vea --Sharp--San Andres--Vallenar--Mr. Stokes--San Estevan--Distressed sailors--Anna Pink Bay--Port Low--Potatoes--Indian names--Huafo --Volcano--Chilotes--Aborigines--Militia--Freebooters--Climate --Docks--Tides--Witchcraft--Alerse--Calbucanos--Cesares--Search for men--Meteors.

June 9th. Good equal altitudes having been obtained, after an interval of time sufficient for rating our chronometers,[1] we sailed from Port Famine, went down the Magdalen Channel, enjoying some fine scenery, among which Sarmiento was pre-eminent, and anchored in a cove under Cape Turn. The following day we beat to windward through the Cockburn Channel, and would have anchored at night had a safe place offered in time, but as the only cove near us at dusk was a very small one, I preferred leaving that unoccupied for the Adventure, and remaining under way in the Beagle. The night was long and very dark, small rain fell nearly all the time, and squalls from the westward were frequent. There were but four square miles in which it was safe to sail to and fro after dark, and for fourteen hours we traversed that area in every direction. It was necessary to keep under a reasonable press of sail part of the time, to hold our ground against the lee tide; but with the ebb we had often to bear up and run to leeward, when we got too near the islets westward of us. In a case of this kind a ship is so much more manageable while going through the water than she is while hove-to, and those on board are in general so much more on the alert than when the vessel herself seems half asleep, that I have always been an advocate for short tacks under manageable sail, so as to keep as much as possible near the same place, in preference to heaving-to and drifting.

When the day at last broke on the 11th, we saw the Adventure coming out to us from the cove where she had passed the night, and then both vessels sailed out of the Channel, past Mount Skyring and all the Furies, as fast as sails could urge them. At sunset we were near the Tower Rocks,[2] and with a fresh north-west wind stood out into the Pacific, with every inch of canvas set which we could carry.

On the 26th we were still together, in latitude 43° and longitude 75°, although gales had occasionally separated us for a few hours. After passing the latitude of 45° we had a succession of bad weather, and adverse (N.W.) winds. Trusting too much to our usual good fortune I had steered in too direct a line towards Chilóe, and in consequence all these north-west winds were against us. Had I shaped a course which would have taken us farther from the land, while we had the wind southward of west, we might have made a fair wind of these provoking north-westers, and arrived at Chilóe at least a week sooner. A few remarks upon the wind and weather, between the parallels of forty and forty-seven, off Chilóe and the Chonos Archipelago, will be found in the Appendix (No. 19).

On the 27th we witnessed the last moments of Mr. Rowlett’s existence in this world. He had long been sinking under an internal complaint of which it was impossible to cure him, except by a vigorous and uniform mode of treatment to which he was not willing to conform until too late: but his illness had no relation whatever to the service in which he had been employed. He was much regretted by all of us, having been a kind, honourable friend. The following day we committed the body of our deceased companion to the seaman’s grave, that “ever-changing and mysterious main.” In the evening we were near the north-west end of Chilóe, and at midnight an anchor was let go in our former berth, off Point Arena. The Adventure arrived two days afterwards, her main-boom having broken in a heavy squall on the 27th, in consequence of which she got to leeward, and was prevented from sooner weathering the north end of the island. A supply of fresh provisions and good rates for the chronometers were obtained, after which we sailed (14th July) for Valparaiso, and arrived there together on the 22d.

My first object would have been, after seeing the vessels securely moored, to go to Santiago, present my instructions in the proper quarter, and ask for the sanction of the Chilian government, in prosecuting the survey of the coasts of Chile; but I was so much in arrear with respect to computations and charts, that I could not venture to give even a week to an excursion to that agreeable place, where a thousand attractive novelties would inevitably have diverted my attention in some measure from the dull routine of calculation, and attention to the data accumulated by many months’ exertion of those on board the Adventure, as well as in the Beagle; therefore I sent Lieutenant Wickham, who spoke Spanish, and had been at Santiago before, to show my instructions to the Authorities, and request their approval of our examination of the shores under their jurisdiction. Nothing could be more satisfactory than the reply (Appendix No. 20), and from that time until the Beagle left Chile she received every attention and assistance which the Chilian officers could afford.

As I proposed to remain at Valparaiso during the winter months, Messrs. Stokes, King, Usborne, and myself, whose occupation would be sedentary and would require room, as well as more light and quiet than we could always have on board, took up our quarters on shore; while those on board attended to the refit and provisioning of our vessels.

At this time I was made to feel and endure a bitter disappointment; the mortification it caused preyed deeply, and the regret is still vivid. I found that it would be impossible for me to maintain the Adventure much longer: my own means had been taxed, even to involving myself in difficulties, and as the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty did not think it proper to give me any assistance, I saw that all my cherished hopes of examining many groups of islands in the Pacific, besides making a complete survey of the Chilian and Peruvian shores, must utterly fail. I had asked to be allowed to bear twenty additional seamen on the Beagle’s books, whose pay and provisions would then be provided by Government, being willing to defray every other expense myself; but even this was refused. As soon as my mind was made up, after a most painful struggle, I discharged the Adventure’s crew, took the officers back to the Beagle, and sold the vessel.[3]

Early in November our charts of the eastern coasts of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, as well as those of the Falkland Islands (the work of the Adventure) were finished, and shipped off for England; and on the 10th we sailed, alone, to resume our more active occupations on the southern coasts. My former intention was to have filled up all blanks in the charts of the outer west coast of Patagonia, between the parallels of fifty-three and forty-eight, and then carried a connected survey along the coast to the equator; after which the Galapagos Islands; Dangerous Archipelago; Marquesas, Society, Friendly, and Feejee Islands; besides New Zealand; were to have had as earnest an examination as could be effected by both vessels during 1836 and part of 1837. That this plan might have been carried out by the divisions of labour and exertions of the Beagle and her tender may, I think, be inferred from what has actually been executed with inferior means and in much less time. But my reduced arrangements were on a much smaller scale: I could only look to the most useful objects that might be effected within the limited time to which I dared to look forward.

All on board partook, more or less, of the mortification caused by parting with our consort, just as she was most wanted, and most able to take an effective part; and I confess that my own feelings and health were so much altered in consequence--so deprived of their former elasticity and soundness--that I could myself no longer bear the thoughts of such a prolonged separation from my country, as I had encouraged others to think lightly of, while I could hold out to them the prospect of seeing as well as doing a great deal among the islands of the Pacific, besides completing the surveys of Chile and Peru.

I now proposed, first, to go to San Carlos, there set two of our boats at work among the islands eastward of the large island, while the Beagle would survey the more exposed coasts, those to the west and south; then the ship was to examine the seaward shores of the Chonos archipelago, while another of her boats was employed among those islands; and, the Chonos explored, she would return to San Carlos, collect her scattered parties, and proceed along the coast, northwards, taking all the ports and islands in her way.

On the 21st we arrived at San Carlos, and were pleased to find that Mr. Low had returned safe from his difficult undertaking; and that a person (Mr. Douglas) whom I had engaged to make an excursion to Calbuco and into the forests of ‘Alerse,’ on the Cordillera of the Andes, had also come back with the required information, and was ready to engage himself to act as a pilot and interpreter.

When last at San Carlos I proposed to Mr. Low, then serving as pilot on board the Adventure, to pass the time of our absence at Valparaiso, in exploring part of the Chonos Archipelago with a whale-boat belonging to me, and a crew of natives (Chilotes). Low, ever restless and enterprising, entered eagerly into my views; so furnishing him with money, a chart, and a few instruments, I explained where I wished him to go, and when he should be again at San Carlos, all further arrangement being left to him.

Mr. Low hired a crew of six men,[4] and set out. After he had quitted the southernmost place at which provisions could be procured, called Caylin, or ‘El fin de la Christiandad,’ one of his men[5] persuaded some of the others[6] to eat up the stock of provisions in the boat as soon as possible, in order that they might be obliged to return without going far. But Low was too much inured to hardship to be so easily diverted from his plan; he went on, directly south, even after his provisions were consumed; obliging them to live for fourteen days upon shell-fish and sea-weed. After exploring much of the Chonos Archipelago, sufficiently to facilitate our survey materially, he returned with his hungry crew to Caylin.

24th. Lieutenant Sulivan set out with the yawl and a whale-boat, to survey the east side of Chilóe and the islets in the Gulf of Ancud.[7] With him were Messrs. Darwin, Usborne, Stewart and Kent; Douglas as a pilot, and ten men. Two days afterwards, the Beagle sailed, to examine the western coast of Chilóe, and the Chonos Archipelago.

Dec. 2d. While standing towards distant mountainous land, about the latitude of 45°, we saw a comparatively low and level island;[8] considerably detached from those which seemed like Tierra del Fuego, being a range of irregular mountains and hills, forming apparently a continuous coast. This level island I have since ascertained to be that formerly called Nuestra Señora del Socorro, where Narborough anchored and landed, in 1670. It was selected in 1740, by Anson, as a rendezvous for his squadron; but no one seemed to know where to look for it: the Anna Pink having made the land in 45°. 35′, and the unfortunate Wager in 47°, near Cape Tres Montes. Narborough mentions seeing ‘an old Indian hut’ on this island; and in a MS. journal, written by Moraleda[9] (now in my possession) it is said that the former natives of the Chonos used to make annual excursions to that as well as other outlying islands. After witnessing the distance to which savages venture in such frail canoes as those of Tierra del Fuego, it does not surprise one to find them going fifteen or twenty miles across an open space of sea in such large canoes as those of the Chonos Indians, which are indeed boats. Fuegian wigwams have been found upon Staten Land and upon Noir Island, each of which is as far from any neighbouring coast as Socorro is from the nearest shore.

While Narborough’s ship was under sail, near Socorro, he went in his boat to the island which is nearest to it, by him named Narborough Island.[10] There he landed, and took possession for his Majesty and his heirs.[11]

3d. Having passed the night quietly at single anchor, near the north-east point of Socorro, we weighed and continued our route to and fro along the coast, taking angles, soundings, and observations. On the 5th, we were near Huafo,[12] which, to our surprise, we found to be twenty-five miles farther north than the Spanish charts (following Moraleda) showed its position, yet the longitude was almost correct. In a small cove, near the south-east point of Huafo, we anchored, but broke a bower-anchor in doing so; for the cove is small--an unexpected puff of wind gave us too much way--and dropping the bower in haste, it fell upon a rock, and broke.[13] Only two days before another anchor was broken, near Socorro, by the ship pitching while a short scope of cable was out, and the anchor hooking to a rock. I found, on landing, that the formation of the island, like that of Socorro and Narborough Island, is a soft sandstone, which can be cut with a knife as easily as a cake of chocolate.

These three outlying islands are thickly wooded, rather level, compared with their neighbours, and not exceeding eight hundred feet in height. There are few, if any others, like them in the Chonos Archipelago; almost all the rest, however portions of some may resemble them, being mountainous, and very like those of Tierra del Fuego and the west coast of Patagonia, beyond 47° south; therefore I need only remark, that the vegetation is more luxuriant; that there is a slight difference in it, consequent probably upon a milder climate; that some productions, such as canes and potatoes, &c., are found there which do not grow near the Strait of Magalhaens; and that in other respects, as to appearance, nature, and climate, the Chonos Archipelago is like Tierra del Fuego in summer.

We remained a few days in San Pedro harbour; and on the 9th Mr. Sulivan and his party joined us. Next day Mr. Stokes and I endeavoured to get to the top of the mountain named Huampelen, Huamblin, or San Pedro; but after climbing, creeping, struggling, and tumbling about, among old decayed trees, strongly interwoven canes, steep, slippery places, and treacherous bog, we failed, and gave up the attempt. Mr. Darwin, Douglas, and others were with me, but we were all foiled.

11th. Having despatched Mr. Sulivan, with the same party excepting Mr. Darwin, we got under weigh, and hastened towards the middle of the Chonos group, in order to find a port whence Mr. Stokes might set out to explore northwards, while I should examine the southern half of the archipelago.

13th. We succeeded in finding a sheltered, and apparently safe anchorage in a road named by me Vallenar, because it corresponded in situation to an island so called in an old chart, said to be of the Chonos, but which bore no resemblance whatever to them. However, being anxious to remove no “neighbour’s land-mark,” and retain original names, when they could be ascertained, I kept them wherever I was able to do so. As to the native names, those given by Indians, I had not the means of finding them out, for no inhabitants were seen; but, so far as Moraleda had collected them from his Indian interpreters, and made them known by his chart,[14] I have scrupulously followed him.[15]

16th. Mr. Stokes set out, in a whale-boat, to work northwards, as near the sea-coast as possible, and meet me at a harbour in the Huaytecas group of islands, now called Port Low. He was accompanied by Mr. Low, Mr. May,[16] and four men.[17] Moraleda, in his diary and chart, describes a channel which crosses the Chonos Archipelago, and is called by the natives ‘Ninualac.’[18] Through this passage the Chonos Indians used to go once or twice a year to inspect the small herds of goats, or flocks of sheep which they then had upon those outlying islands I have already mentioned, namely Huamblin[19] (Socorro), and Ipun (Narborough); as well as upon others, of which I believe Lemu, a woody island on the north side of Vallenar Road, was one. Moraleda himself explored part of the continent, and some of the islands adjacent to it (between 1786 and 1796), but he saw nothing of the sea face of the Chonos. What few notices of it existed, prior to 1834, were obtained from the voyage of Ladrilleros in 1557; from the Anna Pink in 1741; from Machado in 1769; and from the Santa Barbara in 1792; which, when compared together, tended to confuse a hydrographer more than they assisted him. In Spanish charts of the coast from Cape Tres Montes northward to Taitaohaohuon (a name long enough to perplex more verbose men than sailors) from which all others, of that coast, were copied, that portion must have been originally laid down according to magnetic, instead of true bearing; and the fragments of knowledge acquired, about the latitude of 46° S., from the master of the Anna Pink, the pilot Machado, and the officers of the Santa Barbara frigate, clashed so much that their result was what we see in the charts hitherto used, a dotted line, and a few straggling islands, totally unlike the truth, leading one to expect a comparatively open space, whereas there is a succession of high and considerable islands, so near one another, that from the offing they ‘make’ like a solid unbroken coast.

While on this subject I may remind the reader that besides the expeditions above-mentioned, the missionary voyages described by Agüeros (Appendix, No. 23), the important undertaking of Sarmiento, and the disastrous voyage of the Wager, there have been other visitors to the west coast of Patagonia, part of whose acquired information, though slight, is upon record.

In 1552, two ships, commanded by Don Francisco de Ulloa, were sent by Valdivia to gain some knowledge of the Strait of Magalhaens.[20] The journal of their voyage is not extant. Five years afterwards (in 1557), Don Garcia Hurtado, Viceroy of Peru, sent two vessels to examine the southern part of the coast of Chile, as far as the Strait of Magalhaens. The commander was Juan Ladrilleros, and with him were two pilots, named Hernan Gallego and Pedro Gallego. A mutiny took place, and one ship deserted, but with the other Ladrilleros persevered, passed four months in the Strait at anchor during the winter, then reconnoitred the eastern entrance, and afterwards sailed back to Chile, where he at last arrived with only one seaman and a negro, the rest of his people having perished by exposure to hardships, by scurvy, or by famine. The principal geographical information obtained at so high a price, was some slight knowledge of Chilóe, and the archipelago of islands near it.--(Burney, vol. i. p. 246-9.)

Sarmiento’s expedition in 1579-1580, has already been often quoted in the first volume of this narrative.

In 1675 Antonio de Vea was sent from Peru in a ship, accompanied by small barks, as tenders, to reconnoitre the Gulf of Trinidad, and the western entrance of Magalhaens Strait. De Vea made an examination of those places, and was convinced, from the poverty of the land, that no settlement of Europeans could be maintained there. One of the Spanish barks, with a crew of sixteen men, was wrecked on the small islands called Evangelists, at the west entrance of the Strait. De Vea returned to Callao in 1767.--(Burney, iv. 76.)

In 1681, the notorious Sharp anchored in a gulf, surrounded by craggy mountains, whose tops were covered with snow, in 50°. 40′. south latitude; where “the difference of the rise and fall of the tide was seven feet perpendicular.” Sharp named the anchorage Shergall’s Harbour, the sound he called English Gulf; and the islands adjacent “Duke of York’s Islands.” The account of this buccaneer’s visit is sufficiently connected with the object of this volume, to warrant my inserting it in the Appendix, copied verbatim from that interesting work, invaluable to seamen and hydrographers, Burney’s History of the Discoveries in the South Sea.[21]

18th Dec. The Beagle weighed and sailed out of Vallenar Road, after experiencing the shelter afforded by that anchorage, during a heavy gale from the south-west and southward.

At day-light on the 20th we were off Cape Tres Montes: having a fine day and smooth water, we surveyed the coast between that promontory and San Andres Bay, but it became dark before an anchorage could be gained. Next morning we anchored in a narrow creek,[22] close by a singular cone (1,300 feet high), an unfailing land-mark. Finding it a place difficult to get out of, and not to be recommended, unless in distress, we did not stay there long, but moved to a cove at the south-west part of the bay.[23] While under sail for this purpose, advantage was taken of an interval of moderate weather to run several miles along the coast northward, and back again. Strong gales set in afterwards and kept us prisoners several days. This Christmas was unlike the last: it was a sombre period. The wind blew heavily (though we did not feel it much, being well sheltered); all looked dismal around us; our prospects for the future were sadly altered; and our immediate task was the survey of another Tierra del Fuego, a place swampy with rain, tormented by storms, without the interest even of population: for hitherto we had neither found traces,[24] nor heard the voices of natives.

28th. Directly the weather would admit, we weighed and coasted along till the sun was getting low, when we ran under shelter from sea and wind, and anchored in the corner of a bay which I afterwards concluded must be the bay or port called Stephens, and more properly, San Estevan. While we were furling sails, some men were seen on a point of land near the ship, making signals to us in a very earnest manner. Being dressed as sailors, it was natural for us to conclude that they were some boat’s crew left there to collect seal-skins. A boat was sent to them, and directly she touched the land they rushed into her, without saying a word, as men would if pursued by a dreaded enemy; and not till they were afloat could they compose themselves enough to tell their story. They were North American sailors, who had deserted from the Frances Henrietta (a whaler of New Bedford), in October 1833. When off Cape Tres Montes, but out of sight of land, and in the middle of the night, these six men lowered a boat and left their ship, intending to coast along until they should arrive at Chilóe. Their first landing was effected on the 18th, but owing to negligence the boat was so badly stove that they could not repair her, and all their hopes of effecting a coasting voyage were thus crushed in the very outset.

Finding it impossible to penetrate far into the country, on account of its ruggedness, and thick forests, which, though only trifling in height, were almost impervious, they began a pilgrimage along-shore; but it was soon evident, to their dismay, that there were so many arms of the sea to pass round, and it was so difficult to walk, or rather climb, along the rocky shores, that they must abandon that idea also, and remain stationary. To this decision they were perhaps more inclined after the death of one of their number; who, in trying to cross a chasm between two cliffs, failed in his leap, fell, and was dashed to pieces. Their permanent abode was then taken up at the point which shelters Port San Estevan, now called Rescue Point; where they passed a year in anxious hope. Of course the few provisions which their boat had carried ashore were soon exhausted, and for thirteen months they had lived only upon seals’ flesh, shell-fish, and wild celery: yet those five men, when received on board the Beagle, were in better condition, as to healthy fleshiness, colour, and actual health, than any five individuals belonging to our ship. Few remarks worth noticing had been made by them, as the only experienced man (whose name was John Lawson) lost his life as above-mentioned. There was an almost continual succession of rain and wind for several months after their first landing, except from the 20th to the 29th of December, which passed without rain: in July (1834) they had an extraordinary storm from south-west, which began early one morning, after a rainy night with northerly wind: and in November (1834) there were twenty-one days successively without rain. One day (in May) they saw eight vessels sailing northwards together; excepting which, not a sail was ever seen by their aching eyes till the Beagle hove in sight. Between San Andres, near which they first landed, and San Estevan, the hull of a small vessel was found, quite bedded in sand; she seemed to be about thirty-five tons burthen, from thirty to thirty-five feet in the keel, and about sixteen broad. She was full-built; neither coppered nor sheathed. In a cave, which had been used as a dwelling, near San Andres, the skull of a man was found, and some burned wood. A bracelet of beads was lying in the cave, but they noticed nothing else. The skull seemed to them to have been that of a black man. No animals were seen at any time except deer and nutria, seal and otter; the former were of a reddish colour, with short straight horns, and very rough coats: no traces of other quadrupeds were observed, nor during the whole fourteen months did they ever meet a native human being. They told me that the night tides seemed always to be a foot or more higher than those of the day, which, as they said, rose from four to seven or eight feet perpendicularly. I had intended to explore the interior of Port San Estevan; but as they had already done so, and found it terminate in a fresh water river, or rather mountain stream, I gave up that plan, and sailed next day.

29th. While examining the coast towards Cape Taytao[25] (I must omit haohuon), we found a very dangerous patch of rocks,[26] five miles from the nearest land; there are soundings near them. In the evening we dropped our anchor under Inchemo Island; an interesting locality, because there the Anna Pink anchored before she was drifted across the adjacent bay into Port Refuge (in 1741).

30th. On landing an old wooden hut was discovered in a sheltered corner, and we found that the island was overrun with goats, which I suppose to have been left by the Santa Barbara’s crew, if not by Machado’s people. While Mr. Stokes and I were engaged with the instruments, and two boats sounding, a couple of guns were sent against the goats, and in consequence of their effectual employment in the hands of Mr. Bynoe and H. Fuller, all on board had a good fresh meal the next two days. After noon we sailed across the Bay,[27] and found a snug, though very small cove,[28] where we moored in security, and remained till the 4th of January, exploring the neighbourhood--an unprofitable wilderness of rocky mountains, woody and swampy valleys, islands and rocks in profusion, and inlets or arms of the sea penetrating in every direction.

On the 4th we moved to Port Refuge, a safe, but out of the way place. In the “narrative of what befel the Anna Pink,” given in Anson’s Voyage, this harbour is described in very glowing colours; but we may remember that those who discovered it, were there saved from destruction; and naturally looked upon all things around them with excited feelings.[29] How the officers of the Santa Barbara made their survey of this port and its neighbourhood I am at a loss to know; a mere eye-sketch, drawn upon the spot, might have been much better than that which they gave to the world as a mathematical plan. In their distorted representation of Port Refuge, many soundings have been scattered, apparently at random, and quite at variance with truth. This is so unlike most Spanish works of a similar nature, some of which are very accurate,[30] considering the date of their manufacture, and the means employed,--that I conclude the officers of that frigate, not understanding marine surveying, merely drew rough sketches of what they saw, which were afterwards ‘cooked’ into a more regular ‘appearance,’ by some one who was not on board with them. Had time allowed I should have explored the Gulf of San Rafael, at the back of Tres Montes Peninsula,[31] but knowing that it could only be an object of geographical, not immediately practical interest to do so, I refrained from indulging mere curiosity, much as I desired to corroborate the account of Spanish missionaries who often went there, crossing the Isthmus of Ofqui, in search of Indians among the Guaianeco islands, and even farther south, of whom they might make converts to Christianity. Doubtless some of these voyages were undertaken and completed with benevolent and single-minded intentions; but I suspect that others were conducted on a different principle; and that their chief object was to procure able-bodied slaves to be employed in the mines of Chilóe or Southern Chile. I should be glad to learn that this suspicion is ill-founded.[32]

On the 7th we anchored in Port Low, and found Mr. Stokes just arrived, after a fagging cruise among the Chonos islands. His journal contains a great deal of information, from which I have extracted those passages most likely to interest the general reader.

His whale-boat was so loaded at starting (16th Dec.) that her gunwale amidships was but a foot above water. She was twenty-five feet long and six feet broad, and then carried seven men, besides instruments and a month’s provisions. Of water she had only two ‘barecas,’ because on that coast fresh water is only too plentiful. In passing a promontory, the following day, while their boat was still deep, the swell became so great that Mr. Low said he had never before been in a boat exposed to greater danger.

In some places where they landed the woods were so thick that Mr. Stokes was obliged to climb trees to get angles; and not being able to tell previously which would answer his purpose, sometimes he made three or four useless ascents, before he could obtain a view: “but,” he says “there is a pleasure I cannot express in roaming over places never visited by civilized man.” On Rowlett Island potatoes were found growing wild; the largest dug up measured two inches in length, and an inch in thickness: they were quite tasteless.

At the east side of Ipun, on Narborough Island, an excellent small port was found, which was named Scotchwell Harbour. On the shore, near it, was a large bed of strawberries, like those that grow in English woods; and there was a sweet-scented pea, besides abundance of other vegetable produce, both herbage and wood, and plenty of water.

“Hitherto, all the islands we had seen were of slate-rock, some parts so soft, that I could break them easily with my finger, and I found that they blacked my hand, like plumbago; but Ipun is quite different in structure, being an earthy sand-stone.”[33]

Syzygial high water at Ipun takes place at noon, and the tide rises six or eight feet. The flood-tide comes from the southward.

At May Harbour (which may be the Bello Dique of the Santa Barbara), many cypress trees were noticed, for the first time hereabouts, and a surprising number of otters. The tide rose seven feet. About the Huaytecas Islands, the northernmost of the Archipelago, quantities of excellent oysters were found, quite as good as any sold in London. No quadrupeds were seen, except nutria and otters, which were numerous. Their numbers, and the quantity of birds, show that Indians do not now frequent that quarter; indeed, no traces of them whatever were found by Mr. Stokes, or any of our party, among the Chonos islands.

10th. While lying at Port Low we caught plenty of fish with the seine; we obtained oysters from neighbouring creeks, and shot ducks and geese, so there was no want of fresh provision. Some piraguas from Chilóe were in the port: the Chilotes in them were in search of otters, seals, and nutria, and had come across the gulf of Huafo, in their ill-conditioned vessels, with no little trepidation.

On an outlying islet, near Port Low, I first saw the wild potato. Next to seeing a wild man, I recollect few objects which struck me much more than that group of wild potatoes:--but I have neither inclination nor space here to speak of my own sensations. The stems, leaves, and flowers of these vegetables were as large, and appeared to be as healthy, as those in an English garden, but the potatoes at their roots were small, watery, and insipid. It ought to be recollected, however, that we saw them early in January--corresponding to July--many weeks, at least, before one could expect to find eatable potatoes in an English field.

It was remarked in the Chonos islands, as well as in Tierra del Fuego, that the trees which grow in thin soil, lying upon slaty rocks, extend their roots so horizontally that it is not surprising to find, running through woodland, broad tracts whence the shallow-rooted trees have been swept away, partly by wind, partly by the action of mountain-torrents.[34] As wood grows even at the water’s edge in those countries, where not exposed to the first attack of wind from seaward, and as there are so many loose overhanging masses of rock, one cannot be surprised at the vast quantities of drift-wood found in some places; or think it improbable for a quadruped to be occasionally precipitated into the sea, with a falling mass of rocks and trees, and afterwards drifted by wind and current to some other locality.

From Port Low we saw a notable mountain, one of the Cordillera of the Andes, having three points upon a small flat top, about eight thousand feet above the sea. I called it the Trident at that time; but afterwards learned that there are four peaks (one of which was hid by another from our point of view), and that it is called by the aborigines Meli-moyu, which in the Huilli-che language signifies four points.

Three other remarkable mountains, active volcanoes, are visible from the northern Huaytecas islands, as well as from Chilóe; I mean the Corcobado (hump-backed), of which I do not remember the Indian name; Yanteles (or Yanchiñu, which means ‘having a shivering, and unnatural heat’), and Minchenmadom, which, in the Huilli-che tongue, means ‘under a firebrand’; names so expressive and appropriate as to put to shame much of our own nomenclature. Wherever I have been able to discover the aboriginal name of a place in South America, and could ascertain its meaning, I have been struck by the extreme appositeness, as well as by the copious though condensed allusion usually conveyed.

In Chilóe and about the north-eastern Chonos Islands, almost all the aboriginal names are preserved, because there interpreters could be procured; but, of course, such advantages were generally unattainable in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. In Chilóe, as in Araucania, every corner and every conspicuous spot, whether land or water, has a particular and expressive name, a word usually compounded of two or three others: thus, Huapi-quilan means Three Islands; Calbu-co, Blue Water; Cauca-huapi, Gull Island; Huechu-cucuy, Point Cucuy,[35] or Grandmother; Carel-mapu (Cara-el-mapu), Bad-city-country; Petu-cura, middle stone (a rock in Chacao Narrow), &c.

15th. We sailed from Port Low and went to Huafo once more, wishing to give Mr. Darwin an opportunity of examining it geologically. There are now no inhabitants on that island, though there are a good many sheep belonging to Chilotes, who live at Caylin. Formerly there were Indians called Huyhuen-che,[36] upon Huafo; but the Spaniards obliged them to quit it, for fear they should give information or supplies to English ships. Near the Beagle, when at anchor, there was a square place, like an entrance to some cave, seemingly cut by man in the soft sand-stone rock; and I have since often reproached myself for having left the place without ascertaining its real nature. It may be the entrance to some cave, formerly used as a burying-place, similar to those explored by Low, and by the surgeon of the Wager.

On the 17th we sailed, and next day anchored off Point Arena, in San Carlos Harbour. Lieutenant Sulivan, with his party, had arrived a few days previously, after a very satisfactory cruise. We found his boats hauled up and refitted, his people lodged under their tents, and himself with Mr. Usborne busily occupied in my little observatory, laying down the work for which they had collected materials. Thus we were again assembled in safety, after being considerably divided, and, in consequence, exposed to numerous dangers which human prudence can neither foresee nor prevent. As some soundings were still wanted near the English bank, and about the approach to San Carlos, we employed the 19th in taking them, on board the Beagle, accompanied by her boats, and returned to our usual anchorage, close to Point Arena, at dark.

When sounding on the English bank, we repeatedly tried to ascertain its nature by forcing a very long iron lance downwards as far as possible. The instrument penetrated about two feet into sand in all instances but one, when it was stopped abruptly by a substance which bent the lance and turned its point. It did not, however, feel like rock, rather, I should say, like hard wood.[37] This hard place was about a square yard in extent, and all around was sand.

In the night, or rather from two to three the following morning, Osorno was observed in eruption, throwing up brilliant jets of flame or ignited matter, high into the darkness, while lava flowed down its steep sides in torrents, which from our distance (seventy-three miles) looked merely like red lines. Daybreak diminished the effect, and as the light increased only a dark column of smoke could be discerned. This mountain is one of the most striking in form which I ever saw. It is not only quite conical from the base to the summit, but it is so sharply pointed that its appearance is very artificial. When seen from the sea, at a distance of ninety or a hundred miles, the whole of the cone, 6,000 feet in height[38] at least, and covered with snow, stands out in the boldest relief from among ranges of inferior mountains. The apex of this cone being very acute, and the cone itself regularly formed, it bears a resemblance to a gigantic glass-house; which similitude is increased not a little by the column of smoke so frequently seen ascending.

We remained till the 4th of February in the port of San Carlos. Mr. Darwin profited by the opportunity afforded to make an excursion into the interior of the island, while the surveying party were occupied in arranging data, in laying down chart-work, and in taking and calculating observations. I paid Douglas for his services and for a variety of information collected for me, from which--from Lieut. Sulivan’s journal--and from my own notes--I shall now add such few notices of Chilóe as I think may be interesting, and which have not been already introduced in the first volume, (pp. 269-301.)

Various accounts have been given of the characters and dispositions of the Chilotes. Some have said that they are a noble, industrious, and docile race; others that they are dishonest, idle, and ill-disposed: to reconcile these contradictory accounts is, therefore, at first sight, rather perplexing. There are four distinct classes of inhabitants in Chilóe and the adjacent islands;[39] the aboriginal Huyhuen-che, or Chonos; the Huilli-che, who came from southern Chile; the foreigners, those neither born in Chilóe nor descended from Chilotes; and the Creoles. Of these the Chonos are now nearly lost: in consequence of disease and emigration they have by degrees abandoned not only Chilóe but the adjacent Chonos islands, and are only found southward. Some Indians to the south-west of Castro, in the interior of the island near the lake Cucao, are under the nominal jurisdiction of their own caciques: whether they are Chonos or Huilli-che, I did not ascertain clearly. Being a race who are naturally little inclined to cultivate the soil, and preferring a comparatively idle life among muscles, seal, and fish, to voluntary labour on their own account, with a considerable degree of compulsory toil for the Spanish Government and priests, they quitted Chilóe in successive families. From them, probably, are derived the glimmerings of religion, and the crosses among the Indians of Madre de Dios, and other parts of the west coast of Patagonia. That their canoes or rather piraguas, should be similar to those of Chilóe seems natural enough; but the fact is that the Chonos people taught the Huilli-che how to make them.[40] Coming from an inland district near Valdivia, the Huilli-che had never required boats, though they knew how to cultivate potatoes, maize, and beans; how to make ‘ponchos,’ and take care of sheep and cattle. These, though more industrious, and in some respects better members of society, are a tame and docile race compared with the Chonos, whose spirit of independence has shown itself in their migration, and impatience of mis-government.

The principal population of Chilóe is now Huilli-che, nominally Christian but painfully ignorant of pure Christianity. Abandoned to the crooked direction of ungodly pastors, intent upon their own worldly interest instead of the welfare of their flock, extorting ‘primicias’[41] and tithes from poor Indians, whom they scarcely see once in a year (I speak advisedly)--and taught only the Romish doctrine in its worst form; can any one expect the poor Chilotes to be really religious and consequently moral? That they should be extremely superstitious is much more probable, and such is the fact. Their’s is a confused demi-religion, in which a medley of ideas concerning the Virgin Mary, saints, images, and witches,[42] is found far more often than any clear reference to our Saviour or the Almighty.

In the foregoing remarks on the Roman Catholic priests at Chilóe whom I conversed with and heard much about between 1829 and 1835, I do not include all. There was certainly one man (I hope there were more) whom I believe to have been as sincerely pious, and therefore good, as any Roman Catholic, but there were others whose lives scandalized even their nominal Christianity.

The foreigners settled in Chilóe of course resemble their own countrymen as to morals and habits, not being likely to take example from the Indians: and the Creoles adopt their ideas as hastily as our milliners adopt French fashions. But there is a virtue in Chilóe, which if sins could be atoned for by the good works of man alone, would go far towards purchasing good treatment and very slight purgatory for the souls of Chilotes: I mean the warm-hearted kindness shewn to one another, and particularly to strangers. Conspicuous as such a feeling of hospitality and disinterested good-nature is among the descendants of Spaniards in South America, it is no where more to be observed than in Chilóe.

Increased intercourse with other countries is annually diminishing the local peculiarities of Chilote society, a remarkable one being that of transacting mercantile business by barter, for want of current coin. Planks of alerse, indigo, tobacco, pepper, salt, &c. were substitutes for silver and gold in 1829, excepting among a very few foreigners or comparatively rich descendants of Spaniards and Creoles. At that time it was extremely difficult to get a few dollars in exchange for a bill upon good security at Valparaiso, even at the exorbitant price of sixty-pence English for each dollar. In 1834, so much had the state of trade improved at San Carlos, that there was no difficulty in obtaining as many dollars as we wanted for forty-eight pence each.

In the first volume most of the products of Chilóe are mentioned, except fish and coal. Of the shell-fish there is a full account, but I may here add that smelt, mullet, a kind of bass, and other fish are plentiful during the summer months. The natives often catch many more than they want by placing very simple weirs across creeks at high-water, with a passage in the middle, which is shut when the tide begins to ebb. Some of these weirs are rough stone walls (on a small scale), others are wattled like hurdles. The number of fish kept back by them and left dry, as the water falls, is really surprising. Seals are now rare, and whales are fast diminishing in numbers. There is a good deal of coal in Chilóe, but I am told that it is of an inferior description, like that of Concepcion. Geologists say it is not true coal: lignite would be a more appropriate term. Be this as it may I tried some of it[43] in my cabin stove, and found it burn readily, though what I had was a lump taken from the surface of the ground. The Chilotes scarcely noticed it then, having so much wood around them, but a day may arrive in which its value may be better appreciated.

Next to San Carlos,[44] in size and population, is Castro, the former seat of Government, which has dwindled to a mere village. Chacao, where the governor afterwards resided, is only a hamlet. Remains of a town, such as lines of streets and the ruins of a church, are visible, but there are now only a few straggling cottages and a ruinous chapel. It is said, on the spot, that the former church of Chacao was burned by the old Spaniards, to oblige the natives to quit the place and go to San Carlos. Castro, formerly styled a city, now consists of two or three short streets of bad wooden houses and two churches: one of which was built by the Jesuits more than a hundred years ago, and is fast decaying though ‘shored up’ (supported by props) on all sides.

The first discovery of Chilóe was made by Spaniards in 1558, one of whom was Ercilla. Enthusiastic in every thing, the warrior-poet tells us that he ran to a tree, half-a-mile south of the place where his companions halted, and cut some lines on the bark.[45]

The populous state of Chilóe, in 1558, when first visited by Europeans may be estimated by Ercilla’s description, allowing for poetical license. All accounts agree in stating that the Chonos Indians, or Huyhuen-che, were once very numerous.

“Era un ancho archipielago poblado De innumerables islas deleytosas, Cruzando por el uno y otro lado Góndolas y piraguas presurosas: * * * * * Llegó una corva gondola ligera De doce largos remos impelida.” LA ARAUCANA, Cantos xxxv and xxxvi.

That the Spaniards then with Ercilla, were thought to be deities, is shown by the following lines:--

“Hombres, o Dioses rústicos, nacidos En estos sacros bosques y montañas, Por celeste influencia producidos,” &c. IDEM, Canto xxxvi.

Some years afterwards (in 1566) Castro was founded, to be the capital, and Chacao for a sea-port. From this time till about 1633 mines were worked in Chilóe, but then discontinued, partly because they were less productive than those of Chile, and partly on account of the difficulty of obtaining labourers after a raging epidemic had carried off one-third of the aboriginal inhabitants; and fear of infection as well as horror of the mining slavery, had driven away a large portion of the residue.[46] About this time the Huilli-che were carried to Chilóe, in addition to those who had accompanied the fugitives from Osorno (in 1599-1604) to Calbuco, Carel-mapu, and thence to Chilóe; who being a docile patient race, accustomed to agriculture, increased rapidly and supplanted the Chonos emigrants.

We read in the narrative of Brouwer’s voyage (1643) that the port which the Dutch called Brouwer’s Haven, was by some called Chilova, and by others English Haven: and in 1624, according to Agüeros (quoting D. Cosme Bueno), Englishmen were on this coast: but I think it more probable that the Bank Ingles and Port Ingles, near San Carlos, obtained those names from William Adams, in 1599,[47] rather than from them. In the Dutch chart published with the journal, this island is called Chiloue, and the adjacent gulf, Ankaos, or Ancoed.[48] Brouwer alarmed the inhabitants of Chilóe not a little, but they were even more frightened and harassed before that time by Cordes, in 1600; Spilbergen, in 1615; and afterwards by Shelvocke, in 1719; besides others.

To guard against, or rather watch for such visitors, as well as to obtain the earliest intelligence of an enemy being on the coast, the Spaniards established look-out stations in commanding positions and outer points, such as Cocotue heights, Guabun Head, and Point Centinela; but at the present time no such precautions being thought necessary, there is a supine indifference to molestation.

Wherever Mr. Sulivan went with our boats, nearly all the Indians showed an anxiety for the island to be again under the dominion of Old Spain, and asserted that they were much happier and more prosperous before the revolution than they had ever been since. In a place where he passed two days (Huildad) there was an unusual difficulty in obtaining provisions, and it was accounted for by the natives in the following manner: the proprietor of the tithes had just been there, and had taken from them, in sheep and pigs, the full tenth, not only of those animals, but of the growing crops of corn, apples, and potatoes. He had taken away all that the poor people could be deprived of, excepting only what was absolutely necessary as stock for next year’s supply.

Lieut. Sulivan says, in his journal:--“Besides the tithes, they have also to give ‘first fruits’ to the priests, and so hard are they on their parishioners, with respect to tithes and first fruits, that whether the yearly produce be bad or good, the same quantity must be contributed to swell the revenue of a person whom they seldom see, except at the times of collection.”

This oppression, however, is not allowed by the superiors of the Church, when it is duly represented and proved: for not long ago a curate was dismissed from his parish in Chilóe, because he was a severe extortioner: I was informed that during five years that man had amassed more than thirty thousand dollars.[49] Some of the natives complained bitterly to Lieut. Sulivan of the task-work they were compelled to perform.

At Lemuy he met a small piragua with only three men in it, who were on their way from Castro to Quelan. They had walked across the island from San Carlos where they had been working at the new mole, which all the ‘militia’[50] were obliged to do in turn, each man a fortnight: part of which time was allowed for the journey. These three had worked eight days, finding themselves in everything and receiving no pay; two were old men: one more than sixty years of age; and the third was the oldest man’s son. They all declaimed against the so-called ‘Patriots’ (Chilians) very vehemently, and asked repeatedly when they might hope to see the Spanish flag hoisted again. The old man had been a cacique, and under the Spanish authority had charge of a watch-house and a small party of men, on Point Centinela: but directly the Spaniards were overthrown he was made a private militia-man--“not to fight,” he said, “but to work.” If any public work was in progress, a party of militia-men were ordered to it, in their respective turns: and if the commandant had a friend to oblige, who wanted a job done, he would order a man to work at it for a week, when another would take his place, and so on. For these services no pay was given. The old man said that they were paid in money for every service performed when under the Spaniards; and he could hardly be made to believe that there was no prospect of their returning.

There is a marked difference of climate between the east and west sides of Chilóe, as to quantity of rain and wind. A proportion of both appears to be arrested (as it were) on the windward side of the heights, so that the neighbourhood of Castro and the islands in the Gulf of Ancud, enjoy much finer weather than is met with about San Carlos. But even there the inhabitants say a change has taken place gradually, and that they have not now nearly so much rain as used to fall formerly. They attribute this to the wood being cleared away, not only on Chilóe itself, but on the neighbouring Cordillera. There is an idea prevalent in Chilóe that, after a great eruption of Osorno in particular, or indeed of any of the neighbouring volcanoes, fine weather is sure to follow. Without denying the possibility of some such correspondence, I should incline to think that there have been accidental coincidences; and that fine weather occurring about or soon after those times, has been more remarked than at other periods.

On the little uninhabited island, Chiut, in the middle of Ancud Gulf, Mr. Sulivan found a great number of wild strawberries: they were not very good, being unripe. Near the islands beyond Chiut (called Desertas), on the shore of the mainland, he saw several piraguas stranded, evidently during a late gale, as their crews were engaged in repairing them on the beach.

In the island Alau, Lieut. Sulivan met an old native, about 112 years of age; who had great-grandchildren about him, from twelve to fourteen years old. His eyesight and intellectual faculties were still good, and he walked firmly. From the inhabitants of Alau, Mr. Sulivan heard that an English armed brig, accompanied by a Spanish vessel of war, had anchored at that island about seventy years before 1835 (1765). Our boats visited Calbuco, and happening to arrive during the time of Mass, found nobody stirring. At last one man came out of church--ran back instantly--as if to tell the news, and immediately hundreds came pouring out to see the strangers.

Calbuco, called also El Fuerte, is much superior to Castro in appearance as well as size. It ranks next to San Carlos, in consequence to the Chilotes. Near here it was that friendly Indians helping the distressed inhabitants of Osorno to escape from the Araucanians (1599-1605), raised a cry of Calbu-co (blue water), when, emerging from the woodland, they caught a glimpse of the sea.

Our party examined places on the east coast of Chilóe, where docks might be constructed, or vessels laid ashore with much facility, as the tide rises from fifteen to twenty-five feet in several land-locked coves where the swell of the ocean never penetrates.

Round Chilóe the flood tide-streams run both ways, from the south-west; and meet in the north-west part of Ancud Gulf; the times of syzygial high water, in all the archipelago, vary only from noon to an hour and half after noon. In December and January our boat expedition found that the night tides were always higher than those of the day, and the inhabitants said that was always the case in summer. In the months of July and August 1829 the day tides were higher than the night, I am quite certain; and an old Biscayan, resident near point Arena, told me that they were always so in winter: hence we may conclude they are regularly higher at that time of year.

I refrain from entering here into many very interesting customs of the Huilli-che, because they are almost the same as those of the Araucanian Indians, about whom so much has been sung or said by Ercilla, Molina, and others, because my pages are limited, there being still information of a newer character to be written; but I would ask the reader, who may feel interested about the migrations of our race, to compare such customs with those of the Polynesian islanders, especially that of the ‘Minga,’ and making ‘Cava.’[51]

The superstitious ideas, arising out of a debased Romish doctrine, have not deprived the Huilli-che of their belief in witchcraft, a belief held in common with all ignorant nations. Mr. Douglas, in his MS. Journal, says:--“No Chilote doubts the existence of wizards (bruxos). When I was a magistrate, a complaint was made to me of a young woman who, they asserted, had tried to bewitch a young man. The witnesses stated that she had bought from a professed witch (bruxa) a charm (llapui), which was produced in evidence. It consisted of a piece of loadstone, with iron filings adhering to it; some fish-scales; some hair and soap suds, proved to have been on the young man’s face, and sold by the barber; some parings of his nails; a small dead lizard; some slips of a peculiar tree; and many other ingredients. With this charm, with two prepared apples, and a bottle half full of a liquid mixed by the witch, she proposed to win the young man’s affections to such a degree that he would give her all his property. The liquid appeared to be a decoction of the deadly nightshade, and some poisonous ferns. The witnesses stated also, that this witch had a lantern made of the skin of a still-born child, which she lighted with a candle that burned with a blue flame; and gave out sparks, when the witch flew through the air from place to place.

“I have been informed,” continues Mr. Douglas, “upon indisputable authority, that such lanterns do exist; and that when two or more witches wish to communicate by signal, one of them ties a lantern to a long pole, and throws it up and down very quickly, making the sparks fly. The other then makes similar use of her lantern, at a considerable distance, and those who casually see the lights, think that a witch has flown from one place to the other. The magical art of the wizard is often exercised in a search for hidden treasure. There are some places where, in a dark night, inflammable gas, or phosphoric light, is seen, near the ground, not like a Will-o’-th’-wisp of Europe, but a clear steady light, of a white, yellow, or red colour. Popular superstition ascribes these lights to the ghosts of departed misers, watching their hidden treasure; and when one is discovered by any person, he calls a friend to assist him and watch it, about the time of new moon, until they ascertain the spot whence it proceeds; and there they dig in search of an anticipated heap of gold or silver. Not succeeding (of course), they apply to a wizard, who pretends to discover where the treasure lies, and what it is, by looking earnestly into a smooth slab of black stone (which I suppose to be basalt). The wizard may not himself find the prize, nor may he be present at the search; but, after telling the people where and when to dig, he takes good care to alarm and frighten them away in some strange manner, just at the moment they expect to grasp the store of gold. Among other devices, the wizard, or witch, pretends to cover a worsted thread with quicksilver, and holding it over the supposed place, allows the quicksilver to run off into the ground, and then he desires them to dig till they find the quicksilver, thus affording time for creating some sudden alarm, which they attribute to the ‘devoto,’ or familiar spirit of the deceased. It is believed by some that I am able to discover hidden treasure, and for my amusement I have more than once made an experiment before them, by sticking up two stakes in a line towards the light; then going a quarter of a circle round it, I stuck up two more stakes, also in a line towards it; and next day followed the lines to their crossing, at which spot I dug, and about two feet underground found a decayed tree.” (Whence a gaseous exhalation?)

Mr. Douglas’s account of the life of an industrious Calbucano[52] is interesting. He says, that those who are called ‘hombres de bien’ (honest men) are generally the sons of worthy parents, and who marry, while young, some hard-working sober woman. Such a pair, as one of these men and his wife, sow some corn and plant potatoes, then leave the land, with their house, in the care of an old relation, and go to the Cordillera to work in an astillero.[53] If their luck is good, that is, if they find plenty of fine, straight grained trees, not farther than usual from the sea,[54] this pair will cut and bring down five hundred boards in a month; then returning home they clean the potato grounds, and attend to domestic affairs, until their feet heal, and a paralytic motion of the legs, acquired in the astillero, has ceased. When quite refreshed they go for another cargo, and work till their legs and feet can stand it no longer. A third trip is afterwards made by the husband, for about a fortnight, to a nearer astillero, where he cuts pieces of timber and plank of as large a size as he can carry (tablones y cuartones), then returns to collect his harvest, make chicha, and sow corn for next year. The winter months are passed in comparative inactivity, but not without due consumption of cider and potatoes. Occasionally the Calbucano goes to San Carlos, to sell, or rather barter his boards for indigo, tobacco, red pepper, clothes, axes, spirits, &c.; and on these occasions, as well as when they go from Calbuco to the continent, several unite together to man a piragua, in the manner described by Captain King, vol. i, p. 285-6.

Directly his children are able to walk a few miles, he takes them with him to the astillero; begins by giving them two half-boards to carry, and as they grow stronger, increases their load. At about sixteen they borrow an axe, and make the boards they afterwards carry. The alerse forests are like mines to the Calbucano; and nothing but old age or accident can check him from making boards after he has had one season of good luck. The profitable parts of the forests are now, of course, much farther from the sea than they were, owing to constant thinning. To get a load of twenty boards twice as much labour is therefore required as was necessary for a similar purpose thirty years ago. The largest alerse tree that has been found by any Calbucano during the last forty years, measured thirty feet in girth, at five feet from the ground; and more than seventy-six feet to the first branches. This famous tree gave eight lengths of boards and half a length. The two largest trees seen by Mr. Douglas, in his excursion for me, measured one twenty-four, and the other twenty-two feet round, at five feet from the ground: but these were dead trees, hollow in the centre. He saw none above ten feet in circumference, that were quite sound. Report, however, says, that in the Cordillera, out of reach of the Calbuco woodsmen, there are enormous trees, from thirty to forty feet in girth, and from eighty to ninety feet in height to the first branches, above which the heads of those giant trees are said to rise some forty or fifty feet. The alerse has short, stout branches, with leaves like those of a pine, in their bluish green colour, but shorter, being only half an inch long, and one-twentieth of an inch wide: on one stem there are four rows of these small leaves, at opposite sides.

Captain King has fully described the alerse (vol. i, p. 282-3), and the manner of making the boards. I will add a few notices of the way in which it is obtained.

In carrying his load along many miles of bad road from an ‘astillero,’ to the nearest water conveyance, the Calbucano wears a sheep-skin on his shoulders, under a woollen shirt, and taking a stick, with its lower end forked,[55] he trudges along with the load on one shoulder, and on the other the stick, which partly supports the weight till one shoulder is tired; he then shifts the burthen to the other, and goes on. This half rest is called ‘cantuntun.’ After eight, ten, or twelve of these, according to his strength, and the road, he casts down the load, and rests about ten minutes. This is his ‘descanso;’ and he makes about one such every two or three miles. The astillero of Melipulli is ten ‘descansos,’ a whole day’s journey, from the place of embarkation. In examining the different forests of alerse, Mr. Douglas saw some immense land-slips (quechi), one of which was said to have brought down one thousand alerses, some of them being five fathoms round near the roots. This land-slip measured seven hundred yards in length and three hundred yards in width.

Mr. Douglas finds much fault with the manner in which the Chilotes associate for a voyage, or any joint undertaking. He says, “their voyages being planned like a commonwealth, it follows that their government on board must be republican, and the consequence is that every thing is decided by most votes and most noise.” He also complains of their extreme selfishness, and of their reluctance to do any thing, however trifling, for a neighbour, unless for a consideration; another evil consequence of democratic inclinations.

When Moraleda was about Chilóe he went across the cordillera to the lake Nahuelhuapi, in quest of information relative to the ‘Cesares;’ but he could hear nothing positive about any such city or people, from the Indians whom he met near that lake--well known to the Spaniards as a jesuit missionary station. Mr. Douglas’s father-in-law[56] once commanded a party sent from Chilóe to look for this reported city of ‘Cesares.’[57] He got over and beyond the Cordillera to an elevated plain, where he saw a very large number of Indian huts (toldos), placed so as to form regular streets. Near them were large droves of horses and cattle, and small patches of cultivated ground: but he had no time to make further remarks, for his party was discovered, vigorously attacked and driven back, with loss, to the sea. The old man said the climate and soil of that plain were better than those of Chilóe: and, as a proof of it, he found Indian corn with from five to nine large heads, though in Chilóe the same kind of plant only bears from one to three small heads.

A few of the remarks relative to Chilóe, contained in the preceding pages, arose out of an excursion made by me, in 1829, among the neighbouring islands: and many of the other notices mentioned by Captain King (vol. i.) or myself, and given in the narrative as they were received from our associates, were corroborated by what I then witnessed. The excursion alluded to was undertaken in consequence of two carpenters belonging to the Beagle being enticed to desert by a Roman Catholic priest named Forastes, who not only afforded them the means of travelling to Castro and Lemuy, but hid them on his own premises afterwards; and, when he heard that I was seeking for them among the islands, sent them across the gulf of Ancud, in a piragua, to remain in a cove near the Corcovado until the search should be over. One of these men was not worth taking trouble about; but the other was a man who had borne a high character, and had a wife and children in England depending upon him for support. I was satisfied that this man (Wells) had not deserted until overcome by extraordinary temptation and the evil advice of his companion, and determined to do my utmost to recover him. He had pay due for several years’ service, and his ‘servitude time’[58] was considerable.

I despatched Mr. Kirke overland to Castro for intelligence; and set out in a light whale-boat, with five men, all as eager as I was myself to rescue their shipmate from the deceitful allurements of Padre Forastes. As a carpenter, also, every one was well aware, that his recovery was of much consequence to our small vessel, in a place where we could not obtain a substitute.

While visiting various islands I was much struck by the good order and cheerful alertness of several schools of boys, and by the apparent respectability of their teachers: and I was informed that these schools were much fostered by General Aldunate and his worthy secretary, Forelius (a Swede).

Nothing could be more pleasing than the appearance of the islands; all highly cultivated, and thickly peopled by a quiet race of men, apparently industrious, certainly most obliging and hospitable.

At Lemuy I heard that the fugitives had just left Chelin and Quehuy, in a piragua belonging to one Antonio Vargas, and were gone to the Cordillera, somewhere near the Corcovado, to kill seals and collect oil for him and Padre Forastes, until we should leave Chilóe, when they would return and work for the priest. This information cost me an ounce of gold, given to Vargas’s own brother: and for six dollars, in advance, with a promise of more, I engaged a guide (vaqueano) to go with me to the main land. This man had no idea of moving by night; but, understanding clearly that the piragua was gone to an inlet under the Corcovado Mountain, I sailed at once across the gulf, steering by the light of the volcano, much to the terror of our vaqueano, who shrunk down to the bottom of the boat, drew his poncho over his head, and kept muttering prayers, sometimes to the Virgin and his ‘devoto’ (patron saint), sometimes to ‘bruxos;’ but never ventured to look up at the large sail, or watch the boat reeling through the waves, as she sailed across with a fresh westerly wind.

After a variety of petty difficulties and disappointments, and searching every inlet within twenty miles of the Corcovado, without finding a trace of the fugitives, I at last abandoned the pursuit and returned to San Carlos; having relanded our unhappy vaqueano, who, while close to the land, had been useful; but whom we had ruined, he often asserted, by obliging him to promise away all his property in masses, in offerings to saints, and in presents to ‘bruxos’ for his safe deliverance from such continual peril. After hearing such a melancholy statement of his prospects, I added a present to his earnings, which he assured me would amply satisfy both ‘bruxos’ and ‘devotos,’ and left him, notwithstanding his temporary fears, a happy man.

In 1834 I learned that we had actually been within a boat’s length of the deserters on one occasion, and that they had made up their minds to yield unconditionally. They were hidden in some thick bushes on the borders of an inlet[59] under the Corcovado, and their piragua was hauled up behind a rock, out of immediate observation.

It is now high time to quit Chilóe, and proceed along the coast northward: but before I do so, let me take advantage of this opportunity to express the gratitude of those with me, as well as of myself, for a succession of private assistance and sincere kindness experienced from many persons at San Carlos, whose names I refrain from mentioning, because I have a great dislike even to the idea of publishing any thing that occurs in the unreserved intercourse of friends.

* * * * *

Extraordinary meteoric appearances have occasionally been noticed about Chilóe, and the islands southward of it. In describing the Carel-mapu earthquake, of 1633, Agüeros says that torrents of rain followed; and that on a high hill near the town was seen a globe of fire, which rose for a short interval, and then fell into the sea: the waters of which were in consequence much disturbed. A violent tempest ensued, with hail larger than musket-balls.

Another remarkable earthquake happened thereabouts on the 23d-24th of December, 1737: and on the 30th, in the early part of the evening, a great exhalation or cloud of fire was seen passing, from north to south, over all the archipelago. It fell on the Huayteca islands, covered them with ashes, and burned up the vegetation to such a degree that it was only in 1750, that the islands began again to look green.--Agüeros, pp. 102, 104, 105.

In Sarmiento’s voyage an appearance of a similar nature is mentioned, as having been seen near the Strait of Magalhaens: (Viage al Estrecho de Magallanes, p. 205).--Other authorities might be quoted.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Adventure had four chronometers.

[2] Not far from Cape Noir, on Noir Island.

[3] Though her sale was very ill-managed, partly owing to my being dispirited and careless, she brought 7,500 dollars, nearly £1,400, and is now (1838) trading on that coast, in sound condition.

[4] A Welshman, two Chilotes, a Chilian, and two Sandwich Islanders who had been left at San Carlos by a whaler.

[5] The Chilian.

[6] The Chilotes and Sandwich Islanders. Taffy remained faithful: he and Low, being able-bodied active men, frightened the rest into reluctant submission.

[7] Orders in Appendix, No. 21.

[8] About three or four hundred feet in height, excepting one hill, which is seven hundred feet.

[9] MS. Diary of Moraleda’s examination of Chilóe and part of the Chonos Islands in 1787-93, given to me at Lima, by a friend to whom I am much indebted for valuable information.

[10] “Neither the chart in Ulloa, nor any of the Spanish charts lately in use, show the name of N.S. del Socorro to any island near the coast hereabouts. The Spanish Atlas of 1798, places an island very near the coast, in 44° 50′ S. latitude, which in shape and situation answers nearly to Narborough’s description of the island, to which he gave his own name.”--(Burney, vol. iii. p. 360. Note.)

[11] “I saw no kind of mineral in it. Not finding this island noted in any draught (chart), I called it after my own name, Narbrough Island, and took possession of it for his Majesty and his heirs.”--(Narborough’s Voyage to Patagonia and Chile, in 1669-1671.)

[12] Called by Narborough “No-man’s Island.”

[13] Or between two rocks, so that the first sudden strain snapped the shank.

[14] Now in my possession.

[15] His Huamblin and Ipun I take to be Socorro and Narborough Islands, but am not certain.

[16] Having very little occupation on board, in his own particular line, just at that time, Mr. May volunteered to take an oar, as one of the boat’s crew.

[17] Orders in Appendix, No. 22.

[18] “Gran Canal de Ninualac, que atraviese el Archipiélago, por el informe del practico Hueñupal que casi anualmente la transita con el motivo expresado en el Diario.”--(Moraleda’s MS. Chart, 1795.)

[19] Huamblin, if, as I suppose it, a corruption of Huampelen, means ‘on watch,’ ‘posted as a sentinel:’ Ipun means ‘swept off,’ or ‘swept away:’ Lemu means ‘wood:’ names singularly applicable to each of those islands respectively.

[20] Pastene, a Genoese, was, I believe, in this expedition. His MS. Journal is said to exist in the archives of Barcelona.

[21] In this extract from Burney (Appendix No. 23), there is a criticism upon a hydrographical error, made by some copyist, which is interesting to me from its correspondence with what I suspect to have taken place in the old charts of Nassau Bay and Cape Horn.--(See pages 122, 123.)

[22] Cone Creek.

[23] Christmas Cove.

[24] With one exception. On a height near Cone Creek Mr. Darwin found, in a sheltered hollow of the rock, strewed with dry grass, what appeared to him the place on which a man had slept. For some time this puzzled us considerably: probably a sealer had slept there.

[25] Cape Taytao is a high bold promontory.

[26] Hellyer Rocks.

[27] Now called Anna Pink Bay.

[28] Patch Cove.

[29] Anson’s Voyage, chapter iii.

[30] Exclusive of mistakes made by compilers or translators.

[31] Appendix, No. 24.

[32] It is difficult to account for the present abandoned state of these regions, if no harsh usage was experienced by their former natives.

[33] Stokes, MS.

[34] The writer of Anson’s voyage, speaking of Juan Fernandez, exactly describes the loose state of trees in such places, when he says, “The northern part of this island is composed of high, craggy hills, many of them inaccessible, though generally covered with trees. The soil of this part is loose and shallow, so that very large trees on the hills soon perish for want of root, and are then easily overturned, which occasioned the death of one of our sailors; who being upon the hills, in search of goats, caught hold of a tree upon a declivity, to assist him in his ascent, and this giving way, he immediately rolled down the hill; and though in his fall he fastened on another tree of considerable bulk, yet that, too, gave way, and he fell among the rocks, and was dashed to pieces. Mr. Brett likewise met with an accident, only by resting his back against a tree, near as large about as himself, which stood on a slope; for the tree giving way, he fell to a considerable distance, though without receiving any injury.”--(Anson’s Voyage, 8vo. edit., p. 159.)

[35] Cucuy is the name of a bird, much noticed by the aborigines because its motions are supposed to be ominous: it also means grandmother.

[36] The Huyhuen-che, often called Huyhuenes, were a tribe of Chonos Indians, adjoining the Pichi-huilli-che, who lived in the northern portion of Chilóe. The word Huyhuen signifies ‘whistle,’ or ‘hiss,’ or ‘to whistle, or hiss.’

[37] Mr. Sulivan had the lance in his hand at that time.

[38] The volcano of Osorno, or Purraraque, or Hueñauca, is 7,550 feet above the sea level.

[39] The smaller islands of the Archipelago of Chilóe, those in the gulf between Chilóe and the mainland, called the Gulf of Ancoed or Ancud.

[40] These piraguas are extremely like the Madras surf-boats. (See vol. i. p. 285, for a description of the piragua.)

[41] First fruits of everything, animal as well as vegetable.

[42] They are implicit believers in witchcraft.

[43] Obtained for me by Mr. Robert Williams from the neighbourhood of San Carlos.

[44] Described in vol. i. p. 274-5.

[45] “Aquí llegó, donde otro no ha llegado, Don Alonso de Ercilla, que el primero En un pequeño barco deslastrado Con solos diez, pasó el desaguadero El año de cincuenta y ocho entrado Sobre mil y quinientos por Hebrero, A las dos de la tarde el postrer dia, Volviendo á la dexada compañia.” LA ARAUCANA, Canto xxxvi.

[46] These were Huyhuenes, or Chonos, whose place was afterwards supplied by Huilli-che from southern Chile.

[47] Voyage of Five Ships of Rotterdam, Burney, vol. ii. p. 193. (supposing 46° should be 42° S.)

[48] I mention this to show that the accent, or stress, was then upon the second syllable of that name, not upon the third. The name Chilóe is derived from Chilue, or, more strictly speaking, from Chili-hue (see Agüeros and Molina), which means ‘farther,’ or ‘new,’ or ‘the end of’ Chili, and ought, by derivation, to have the accent, as Agüeros placed it, on the o. No reason can be given by a Spaniard for placing an accent on the final e of that word, yet it is almost generally placed there. My own idea is that the French traders to Chile in 1700-1780, first placed an accent on the e in writing, and that Feuillée, Frezier, and others have been followed without inquiry. Had not the stress been laid on the o, surely the natives of Chilóe would have been called Chiloetes, or Chiloenos, instead of Chilotes. As to the name Chile, every one knows it is derived from the Indian word Chili, (Herrera, Ovalle, Agüeros, Molina, &c.) but why it was altered by the Spaniards to Chile, I have never been able to discover.

[49] The number stated to me was 35,000.

[50] Every able-bodied native man is enrolled in the local militia, and obliged to work thus till disabled by infirmity.

[51] The Minga is described in Molina, and Spanish authors. For an excellent discussion respecting the Cava, see Burney--Brouwer’s Voyage, 1643, vol. iii. p. 137, 8, 9.

[52] Native of Calbuco.

[53] A timber-yard: or a place where alerse is cut down, on the flanks of the Cordillera of the Andes.

[54] From three to five miles.

[55] To steady him across bridges of single trees, thrown over ravines, as well as to assist in supporting the load. Sometimes they climb up or down precipices with their loads, by a fallen tree, notched to receive the feet.

[56] A Spaniard of Castile.

[57] Don Pedro de Angelis, of Buenos Ayres, has collected and published a great number of documents relating to the ‘Cesares.’

[58] For the pension granted to seamen in the Royal Navy after twenty-one years’ servitude.

[59] Palbitad, or Almangrande.

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