Chapter XVIII
Leave Chilóe--Valdivia--Earthquake--Aborigines--Traditions--Words --Convicts--Tolten--Boroa--Imperial--Mocha--Shocks of Earthquake --Anchor off Talcahuano--Ruins--Account of a great Earthquake, which destroyed the city of Concepcion; and was felt from Chilóe to Copiapó; from Juan Fernandes to Mendoza.
At daylight on the 5th of February the Beagle sailed from Chilóe, and passed along the coast of southern Chile, towards the port of Valdivia. This is a bold and high tract of land, without a danger for shipping to avoid; but, at the same time, without a safe anchorage between the ports above-mentioned. Soundings extend some miles into the offing, though the water is deep. At two miles westward of this shore we usually found about forty fathoms water; at three miles about sixty, and at five miles from seventy to eighty or ninety fathoms, with a soft, sandy, or muddy bottom.
Whenever, as in this case, we were obliged to carry on the survey without landing, our observations for latitude--often those for time also--were made at the opposite points of the horizon, as well as in the usual manner, when land did not intervene, and the mean results taken as the most correct. In this way, it is probable that errors occasioned by refraction were in a considerable degree avoided.[1]
The day before arriving at Valdivia we had a strong northerly wind, with cold, rainy weather, though the glasses were high. Such an anomaly I have elsewhere noticed, especially in Tierra del Fuego; but any attempt to explain it must be deferred. Another singularity was the temperature of the ocean, not being higher than that near the Chonos Archipelago, and very little warmer than that of Magalhaens Strait: this fact will also be recurred to again.
Feb. 8th. We anchored in the deceiving port of Valdivia. I say deceiving, because it offers to the eye ample space and the utmost security, while, in fact, the safe anchorage is very limited; so much mud and sand being brought down by the river that extensive banks are formed, and increase yearly. We were struck by the apparent strength of the fortresses, built originally by the Dutch in 1643, but improved and increased by the Spaniards. Now, however, their strength is but apparent; for a closer inspection shows that they are almost in ruins and the guns out of order; indeed so nearly disabled, that they could hardly fire a salute without danger. Around the port are high hills, completely covered with wood; and they attract clouds so much, that almost as great a quantity of rain falls there as on the western shores of Chilóe. Several rivers empty themselves at this one mouth, which is the only opening among hills that form a barrier between the ocean and an extensive tract of champaign country,[2] reaching to the Cordillera of the Andes. The principal of these rivers are the Calla-calla[3] and the Cruces; their tributaries are very numerous, few countries being better watered by running streams than that about Valdivia.
Every facility and kindness in his power was offered to us by Don Isaac Thompson, the Yntendente:--and by his secretary, Don Francisco Solano Perez, I was presented with a rare edition of Febrés’s ‘Arte de la Lengua Chilena,’ which has been of much use in explaining the meaning of aboriginal words and names. Don Francisco wished me to take another curious work, but I declined; and have often regretted since that I did not ask him to let me copy a map in it which contained the tracks of Spanish missionaries from Castro in Chilóe to the lake of San Rafael, isthmus of Ofqui, and archipelago of islands in latitude 48-9° S. I thought another copy might be found at Lima, but during my subsequent stay there, not one could be discovered.
The town of Valdivia, formerly dignified by the appellation of city, disappointed our party extremely. It proved to be no more than a strangling village of wooden houses, surrounded with apple-trees; and the only building, even partially constructed of stone, was a church.[4] Many of us were in the town on the 20th of February, at the time of that great earthquake, which ruined so many places besides the city of Concepcion: an awful event, which will be related in the following pages.
An English carpenter, who had served on board the Beagle, in 1828, but had since settled on the banks of the river Cruces, about thirty miles from Valdivia, came on board his old ship one day, to see those whom he knew. It happened that I had formerly been of some assistance to him, and he was naturally glad to oblige me, by giving such information about the country and the natives as he was able to impart; and having lived nearly four years among them, his accounts were not only interesting, but, I think, worthy of credence.[5] As some of these were confirmed by what I heard from residents at Valdivia, and I have no doubt of their truth, I shall mention them without hesitation in the course of my narrative.
I was much struck by the peculiar physiognomy of those aboriginal natives whom I saw during my stay: and there must have been some ground for Mr. Darwin and myself remarking at different times, unknown at first to one another, that their countenances reminded us of portraits of Charles I. This was my impression at the first glance; but after closer examination it wore off, and I thought less of that likeness than I did of their resemblance to the Hindoo race. There was neither the open honesty of a Patagonian, nor the brutal look of most Fuegians; but there was a sombre cast of depressed intelligence that at once said, “we are restrained, but not subdued.” Their countenances were less wide, and more swarthy, than those to which our eyes had been accustomed; and they eyed us with a sinister although resolute glance, which seemed to ask whether we were also come to try for a share of their country. These men were of a middle stature; and formed more slightly than those of the south. They were all tolerably clothed in blue cloth of their own manufacture; and the men of different tribes were distinguished by a slight difference in dress; the Juncos, who live south of Valdivia, wearing a sort of petticoat, instead of trowsers, while the Rancos, another subdivision, wore short loose breeches. In other respects they are similar, as to outward appearance, and their language is that of all southern Chile.[6] These Juncos and Rancos are but portions of that collection of tribes usually known among Europeans by the celebrated name of Araucanians; but among the natives, by the terms Molu-che, Huilli-che, &c. I certainly gazed at these Indians with excessive interest, while I reflected on the multiplied sufferings undergone by their ancestors--the numbers that perished in mines--or in trying to defend their country--and the insidious attempts made to thin their numbers by frequent intoxication, if not by introducing deadly disease.[7]
To keep these Indians on peaceable terms, and in order to have early intelligence of any general combination, the Chilians maintain among them ‘capitanes de los amigos,’ whose apparent office is to take the part of an Indian, if he should be ill-treated by a Chilian (of Spanish descent), and to interpret between parties who wish to barter goods. There is also a ‘comisario de los Indios,’ who is a centre of reference for the ‘capitanes,’ and who ought to be the friend and protector of the aborigines. Many tribes, however, will have nothing to say to either the commissary or his captains, seeing through their object, and detesting even the descendant of a Spaniard too deeply to admit any one of that abhorred race into their territory. About Valdivia there are only a few leagues of ground held by Chile, excepting which all that magnificent tract of country, reaching from the Gulf of Ancud nearly to the river Bio-Bio, probably the finest district in all South America, is still kept by the brave Araucanians.
These Indians are extremely superstitious, but in their rites there are curious customs, perhaps indicative of their origin. About Valdivia, whenever an aboriginal and heathen native dies, he is buried in a small canoe, with a scanty supply of provisions and chicha,[8] on the bank of a river which flows to the sea. Their idea is that the spirit goes by water to that place, in the direction of the setting sun, whence their remote ancestors came. Febrés says, in his work before mentioned, that the island Mocha is the place meant: but if we reflect that Mocha is very small, only twenty miles from the mainland, and that when first discovered, early in the sixteenth century, it was inhabited by Indians who often crossed over to the continent, I think we must look much farther west for the place of departed souls to which these people refer.
The aborigines who live near volcanoes offer propitiatory sacrifices to the evil spirit, Pillan, who is said to cause earthquakes and eruptions. They sacrifice bulls and rams to him, besides offering fruit, vegetables, and chicha. On a mountain called Theghin, or Theg-theghin, (which means to crackle or sparkle like fire), these people say that their early progenitors escaped from the Deluge. There is a word in common use among them, meaning ‘the great ancestor,’ or ‘our great ancestors,’ or ‘the renowned,’ which is hardly to be distinguished from Shem. Febrés spells it ‘Them,’ but, as the th is frequently pronounced, it would sound like chem.[9] Can this be handed down from their ancestor of the Ark?[10]
Another word that attracted my notice particularly, was ‘minga.’ I have a note by me (unfortunately without the proper reference) remarking the resemblance of minga, not only in sound but in meaning, to the Hebrew word mincha. Molina (p. 333) says that these people have a nasal g, which brings the two words to an identity of sound. The Hebrew term, I am told, means an offering or collection of fruits, liquors, &c.; and the corresponding Huilli-che word means a feast of which those partake who are about to unite in a work for the benefit of him who makes the ‘minga.’ In the Appendix a few Greek, Latin, and Araucanian words are arranged so as to show the remarkable similarity existing between them.
I was told by the Yntendente that some Englishmen had arrived in his district a few months before we came, whose character and business he did not understand. Rumours had reached his ears of their having escaped from one of our convict settlements, at the other side of the Pacific, and he was inclined to believe the report. Three of these men had married since their arrival, and all but one were industrious members of his community: indeed I saw two of them hard at work on a boat belonging to the Yntendente. Having however no proof of their delinquency, I did not deem myself authorized to ask him to have them arrested and delivered up to me, in order that I might convey them to the senior British officer at Valparaiso. Afterwards I learned that these men, seven or eight in number, had escaped from Van Diemen’s land in a very small vessel, and sailing always eastward, had at last arrived on the coast near Valdivia, whence they were conducted by a fisherman into the port. Eventually they were made prisoners by the Chilian authorities, delivered up to our Commodore, and by him sent to England.
I was informed that there is coal in many places about Valdivia; but I did not see any. We sailed on the 22d, after receiving, on all occasions, the kindest treatment from the residents.
As we passed along the low coast about the river Tolten, numbers of Indians on horseback, and armed with lances, were seen riding along the shore, evidently watching our movements. This part of the coast is shoal, and at night would be dangerous, for the low land projects considerably, and would not then be readily seen. We could not distinguish the mouths of either the Tolten or the Imperial (or Cauten) quite satisfactorily, but as they are bar rivers--useless to shipping--I would not risk anchoring on so exposed a coast, or sending a boat away into such a surf as we saw breaking, without having more time at my disposal and a higher object in view.
On the Cauten was the city called Imperial--celebrated in Araucanian story--and near its site now live the Boroa tribe, some of whom have light-coloured eyes, fair complexions, and even red hair. I saw one of these Indians at Valdivia, who had blue eyes, but dark hair. She told me that in her own country, ‘Boroa,’ there were many with eyes like her’s; that some were ‘rubios,’ that is, of a red and white complexion, and that a few had red hair. Her parents had told her, she said, that those people were descended from the ‘Huincas.’[11] How the red hair originated is rather curious; I have heard of it from good authorities at other times, while in Chile.
Late on the 24th we anchored at Mocha, and the following week was occupied in surveying its shores and the space between them and the mainland.[12] Shocks of earthquakes were frequently felt, more or less severely; sometimes I thought that the anchor had been accidentally let go, and the chain was running out; and while at anchor, I often fancied the ship was driving, till I saw that there was neither swell, current, nor wind sufficient to move her from the anchorage. We naturally concluded that some strange convulsion was working, and anxious for the fate of Concepcion, hastened to Talcahuano Bay as soon as our duty would allow: arriving there on the 4th of March--to our dismay--we saw ruins in every direction.
The following account of this catastrophe was subsequently obtained:--
At ten in the morning of the 20th of February, very large flights of sea-fowl were noticed, passing over the city of Concepcion, from the sea-coast, towards the interior: and in the minds of old inhabitants, well acquainted with the climate of Concepcion, some surprise was excited by so unusual and simultaneous a change in the habits of those birds,[13] no signs of an approaching storm being visible, nor any expected at that season. About eleven, the southerly breeze[14] freshened up as usual--the sky was clear, and almost cloudless. At forty minutes after eleven,[15] a shock of an earthquake was felt, slightly at first, but increasing rapidly. During the first half minute, many persons remained in their houses; but then the convulsive movements were so strong, that the alarm became general, and they all rushed into open spaces for safety. The horrid motion increased; people could hardly stand; buildings waved and tottered--suddenly an awful overpowering shock caused universal destruction--and in less than six seconds the city was in ruins. The stunning noise of falling houses; the horrible cracking of the earth, which opened and shut rapidly and repeatedly in numerous places;[16] the desperate heart-rending outcries of the people; the stifling heat; the blinding, smothering clouds of dust; the utter helplessness and confusion; and the extreme horror and alarm, can neither be described nor fully imagined.
This fatal convulsion took place about a minute and a half or two minutes after the first shock; and it lasted for nearly two minutes, with equal violence. During this time no one could stand unsupported; people clung to each other, to trees, or to posts. Some threw themselves on the ground; but there the motion was so violent that they were obliged to stretch out their arms on each side, to prevent being tossed over and over. The poultry flew about screaming wildly. Horses and other animals were greatly frightened, standing with their legs spread out, and their heads down, trembling excessively.
After the most violent shock ceased, the clouds of dust which had been raised by falling buildings, began to disperse; people breathed more freely, and dared to look around them. Ghastly and sepulchral was the sight. Had the graves opened and given up their dead, their appearance could scarcely have been more shocking. Pale and trembling, covered with dust and perspiration, they ran from place to place, calling for relations and friends; and many seemed to be quite bereft of reason.
Considerable shocks continued to harass and alarm at short intervals. The earth was never long quiet during that or the next day, nor indeed for the three days following the great shock; and during many hours after the ruin, it was tremulous, and the shocks were very frequent, though not severe. Many of these, but not all, were preceded by a rumbling, subterranean noise, like distant thunder. Some compared the sound to the distant discharge of many pieces of artillery. These noises came from the south-west quarter, and preceded the shock by one or two seconds; sometimes, but not often, the sound was unaccompanied by any shock.
It was the general opinion that the motion was from south-west to north-east. Some whole walls, whose direction was south-east and north-west, were laid flat, the bricks still maintaining their relative position, though end-wise, without being scattered upon the ground. These walls fell, without exception, to the north-east.[17] Others were scattered as they fell; but still the greatest masses of brick-work were thrown towards the north-east. Walls standing in the opposite direction, north-east and south-west, suffered far less: none fell bodily or in masses; fragments were shaken or torn off; and some of the walls were very much cracked,[18] but others suffered little. Houses built of ‘adobes,’[19] became confused heaps, and roofs fell in every where. The cathedral, whose walls were four feet in thickness, supported by great buttresses, and built of good brick and mortar,[20] suffered more than other buildings. Adhering to the remains of the walls were left the lower parts of some buttresses--the upper parts of others--while in one place a buttress stood on its own foundation, separated entirely from the wall.
The city of Concepcion stands upon a plain, very little higher than the level of the river Bio Bio. The soil is loose and alluvial. To the eastward and northward lie rocky irregular hills: from the foot of which the loose earth was every where parted by the great convulsion, large cracks being left, from an inch to more than a foot in width. It seemed as if the low land had been separated from the hills, having been more disturbed by the shock.
Women washing in the river near Concepcion were startled by the sudden rise of the water--from their ankles to their knees--and at the same moment felt the beginning of the convulsion. It was said that the dogs avoided the ruin, by running away before it occurred. This, though known with certainty to have been the case at Talcahuano, wants confirmation with respect to Concepcion. Of nine men who were repairing the inside of a church, seven were killed, and two severely hurt. One of these poor fellows was half-buried in the ruins, during five days, with a dead body lying across him, through which it was necessary to cut, for his release. A mother, escaping with her children, saw one fall into a hole; a wall close to her was tottering; she pushed a piece of wood across the hole, and ran on; the wall fell, covering the hole with masses of brick-work; but, next day, the child was taken out unhurt. Another woman missed a child; saw that a high wall was tottering, but ran for her son, and brought him out. As she crossed the street, the wall fell, but they were safe; when the tremendous crash came, the whole street, which she had just crossed, was filled up with part of the ruins of the cathedral. Besides a waving or undulatory movement, vertical, horizontal, and circular or twisting motions were felt. An angular stone pinnacle was particularly noticed, which had been turned half round, without being thrown down, or leaving its base.
Persons riding at the time of the great shock, were stopped short; some, with their horses, were thrown to the ground: others dismounted, but could not stand. So little was the ground at rest after the great destruction, that between the 20th of February and the 4th of March, more than three hundred shocks were counted.
Much misery was alleviated by the good conduct and extreme hospitality of the inhabitants of Concepcion. Mutual assistance was every where rendered, and theft was almost unknown. The higher classes immediately set people to work, to build straw-covered huts and temporary houses of board, living meanwhile in the open air under trees. Those who soonest obtained or contrived shelter, collected as many about them as they could assist, and in a very few days all had a temporary shelter, under which they tried to laugh at their misfortunes and the shifts to which they were reduced.
At Talcahuano the great earthquake was felt as severely on the 20th February as in the city of Concepcion. It took place at the same time, and in a precisely similar manner: three houses only, upon a rocky foundation, escaped the fate of all those standing upon the loose sandy soil, which lies between the sea-beach and the hills. Nearly all the inhabitants escaped uninjured; but they had scarcely recovered from the sensations of the ruinous shocks, when an alarm was given that the sea was retiring! Penco[21] was not forgotten; apprehensive of an overwhelming wave, they hurried to the hills as fast as possible.
About half an hour after the shock, when the greater part of the population had reached the heights,--the sea having retired so much, that all the vessels at anchor, even those which had been lying in seven fathoms water, were aground, and every rock and shoal in the bay was visible,--an enormous wave was seen forcing its way through the western passage which separates Quiriquina Island from the mainland. This terrific swell passed rapidly along the western side of the Bay of Concepcion, sweeping the steep shores of every thing moveable within thirty feet (vertically) from high-water mark. It broke over, dashed along, and whirled about the shipping as if they had been light boats; overflowed the greater part of the town, and then rushed back with such a torrent that every moveable which the earthquake had not buried under heaps of ruins was carried out to sea. In a few minutes, the vessels were again aground, and a second great wave was seen approaching, with more noise and impetuosity than the first; but though this was more powerful, its effects were not so considerable--simply because there was less to destroy. Again the sea fell, dragging away quantities of woodwork and the lighter materials of houses, and leaving the shipping aground.
After some minutes of awful suspense, a third enormous swell was seen between Quiriquina and the mainland, apparently larger than either of the two former. Roaring as it dashed against every obstacle with irresistible force, it rushed--destroying and overwhelming--along the shore. Quickly retiring, as if spurned by the foot of the hills, the retreating wave dragged away such quantities of household effects, fences, furniture, and other moveables, that after the tumultuous rush was over, the sea appeared to be covered with wreck. Earth and water trembled: and exhaustion appeared to follow these mighty efforts.
Numbers of the inhabitants then hastened to the ruins, anxious to ascertain the extent of their losses, and to save some money, or a few valuable articles, which, having escaped the sweep of the sea, were exposed to depredators.[22]
During the remainder of the day, and the following night, the earth was not quiet many minutes at a time. Frequent, almost incessant tremors, occasional shocks more or less severe, and distant subterranean noises, kept every one in anxious suspense. Some thought the crisis had not arrived, and would not descend from the hills into the ruined town. Those who were searching among the ruins, started at every shock, however slight, and almost doubted that the sea was not actually rushing in again to overwhelm them. Nearly all the inhabitants, excepting a few who went on board vessels in the harbour, passed the night upon the hills, without shelter: and next day they began to raise sheds and huts upon the high grounds, still dreading the sea. It was said, and generally considered certain, that every dog at Talcahuano had left the town before the shock, which ruined the buildings, was felt.
Without explanation it appears astonishing how the shipping escaped destruction. There were three large whale-ships, a bark, two brigs, and a schooner, very near the town, in from four to seven fathoms water: they were lying at single anchor,[23] with a good scope of cable:[24] one only was well moored.
With the southerly breeze, which was rather fresh at the time of the earthquake, these vessels lay to seaward[25] of their anchors, having their sterns towards the sea; and were left aground in this position. The captain of the port, D. Pablo Delano, was on board one of the whale ships at the time, with the hatches battened down, and dead lights shipped. All hands took to the rigging for safety. The first great wave came in an unbroken swell to the stern of the vessel, broke over and lifted her along without doing any material harm, more than sweeping her decks: and the slack chain dragging over the mud checked her gradually, as the first impetus of the wave diminished. Whirling her round, the water rushed out to seaward again, leaving the vessel stranded nearly in her former position. From two fathoms, when aground, the depth alongside increased to ten, as the water rose highest during the last swell. The two latter waves approached, and affected the shipping similarly to the former: all withstood their force, though the light anchors were dragged. Some of the vessels were thrown violently against others; and whirled around as if they had been in the vortex of a whirlpool. Previous to the rush of waters, the Paulina and Orion, two merchantmen, were lying a full cable’s length apart; and after it had passed they were side by side, with three round turns in their cables. Each vessel had therefore gone round the other with each wave: the bow of one was stove in: to the other little damage was done. A small vessel[26] was on the stocks, almost ready for launching; she was carried by the sea two hundred yards in-shore, and left there unhurt. A little schooner, at anchor before the town, slipped her cable, and ran out in the offing as the water fell. She met the wave, unbroken, and rose over it as an ordinary swell. The Colocolo[27] was under sail near the eastern entrance of the bay--she likewise met the wave, as a large swell, without inconvenience.
Many boats[28] put off from the shore before the sea retired: some met the advancing waves before they broke, and rose safely over them; others, half swamped, struggled through the breakers. The fate of one little boy was extraordinary. A servant woman had taken refuge with him in a boat; the boat was dashed against an anchor, lying on the shore, and divided. The woman was drowned, but the half of the boat containing the child[29] was carried out into the bay. It floated, and the boy held firmly. He was picked up afterwards, sitting upright, holding steadily with both hands, wet and cold, but unhurt. The boy’s name is Hodges: his father is an Englishman, well known at Talcahuano, and was an officer in the British navy.
For several days the sea was strewed with wreck; not only in the Bay of Concepcion, but outside, in the offing. The shores of Quiriquina Island were covered with broken furniture and wood work of all kinds; so much so, that for weeks afterwards, parties were constantly at work collecting and bringing back property. During three days succeeding that of the ruin the sea ebbed and flowed irregularly, and very frequently: rising and falling for some hours after the shock two or three times in an hour. Eastward of the island of Quiriquina the swell was neither so large nor so powerful as that which swept over Talcahuano. Having more room to expend its strength in the wider and deeper part of the bay may perhaps have been the reason why the sea swelled rapidly, without breaking, near Lirquen, in the south-east part of the bay; and why it broke over Tomé[30] with violence, though not so furiously as over Talcahuano. The great waves, coming from the sea, appear to have been divided, at the entrance of Concepcion Bay, by the island of Quiriquina, and turned aside both ways, one part taking its course along the Tumbes, or western shore, towards Talcahuano; the other across the eastern opening, towards Tomé. While the bay of Concepcion was agitated by the great waves, it was noticed by Captain Walford (from his house at Lirquen), that the Colocolo was swept to and fro remarkably. She was under sail near the eastern entrance of the bay. Two explosions, or eruptions, were witnessed while the waves were coming in. One in the offing, beyond the island of Quiriquina, was seen by Mr. Henry Burdon and his family, who were then embarked in a large boat, near Tomé; it appeared to be a dark column of smoke, in shape like a tower. Another rose in the middle of the bay of San Vicente, like the blowing of an immense imaginary whale: its disappearance was followed by a whirlpool which lasted some minutes: it was hollow, and tended to a point in the middle, as if the sea was pouring into a cavity of the earth. At the time of the ruin, and until after the great waves, the water in the bay appeared to be every where boiling; bubbles of air, or gas, were rapidly escaping; the water also became black, and exhaled a most disagreeable sulphureous smell. Dead fish were afterwards thrown ashore in quantities; they seemed to have been poisoned, or suffocated; and for days together the shores of the bay were covered with fine corvinos, and numerous small fish. Black stinking water burst up from the earth, in several places; and in Mr. Evans’s yard, at Talcahuano, the ground swelled like a large bubble, then bursting, poured forth black, fetid, sulphureous water. Near Concepcion similar outbursts of water were seen, and similarly described.
By a marked part of the wall of Captain Delano’s house, it was ascertained that the body of water reached twenty-five feet above the usual level of high water. It penetrated into the ‘altos,’[31] and left sea-weed hanging to the remains of roofs, or to the tops of broken walls. But this must not be taken as the general height of the wave. A body of water, rushing upon a sloping beach with such force, would naturally preserve its impetus for some time, and run up the inclined plane, to a great height. Those who watched the waves coming in, considered them, while beyond the shipping, about as high as the upper part of the hull of a frigate; or from sixteen to twenty feet above the level of the rest of the water in the bay. Only those parts of the wave which encountered opposition broke, until within half a mile of the beach, when the roar became appalling. Persons who were standing on the heights, overlooking both bays, saw the sea come swelling into San Vicente at the same time that it advanced upon Talcahuano. The explosion in San Vicente, and the sea advancing from both sides, made them think that the peninsula of Tumbes was about to be separated from the main land, and many ran up the hills until they had reached the very highest point.
Strange extremes of injury and harmlessness were among the effects of these overwhelming waves. Buildings were levelled, heavy twenty-four pound guns were moved some yards, and upset; yet a child was carried to sea uninjured; and window-frames, with the glass in them, were thrown ashore upon the island of Quiriquina without a pane being broken! According to a register, kept by Captain Delano, it appears that his barometer fell four or five tenths of an inch between the seventeenth and eighteenth of February, and was still falling on the morning of the eighteenth, after which it rose again. So great[32] and sudden a fall, not followed by bad weather, may have been connected with the cause of the earthquake; but some doubt hangs over these observations. The barometers on board the Beagle, at that time in Valdivia, did not indicate any change. Still, at so great a distance, it does not follow that the mercury should move similarly; and (notwithstanding doubts excited by persons at Concepcion who had frequently looked at Captain Delano’s barometer,) I am hardly inclined to disbelieve the extract from his register which he gave me.
In a river near Lirquen, a woman was washing clothes at the time of the great shock. The water rose instantaneously, from her feet half way up her legs; and then subsided gradually to its usual level. It became very muddy at the same time. On the sea-beach the water swelled up to high-water mark, at the time of the shock, without having previously retired. It then began to retire, and continued falling about half an hour, before a great wave was seen approaching.
For some days after the devastation the sea did not rise to its usual marks, by four or five feet vertically. Some thought the land had been elevated, but the common and prevailing idea was, that the sea had retired. This alteration gradually diminished, till, in the middle of April, there was a difference of only two feet between the existing, and former high-water marks. The proof that the land had been raised exists in the fact, that the island of Santa Maria was upheaved some feet more than other places.
In going through the narrow passage which separates Quiriquina from Tumbes, the great waves had swept the steep shores to a height of thirty feet (vertically) above high-water mark; but this elevation was attained, in all probability, only at the sides of the passage, where the water met with more obstruction, and therefore washed up higher. That passage is nearly one mile in width, and has ten fathoms water in the middle; but the rocks on the western side diminish its navigable width to half a mile.
Wherever the invading waves found low land, the destruction was great, from those lands being in general well cultivated, and the site of many houses. The low grounds lying at the bottom of Concepcion Bay, particularly those of the Isla de los Reyes, were overflowed, and injured irreparably: quantities of cattle, horses, and sheep were lost. Similar effects, in an equal or less degree, were felt on the coasts between the river Itata, and Cape Rumena. Large masses of earth and stone, many thousand tons in weight, were detached from the cliffs, and precipitous sides of the hills. It was dangerous to go near the edge of a cliff, for numerous chasms, and cracks in every direction, showed how doubtful was the support. When walking on the shore, even at high-water, beds of dead muscles, numerous chitons and limpets, and withered sea-weed, still adhering, though lifeless, to the rocks on which they had lived, every where met the eye--proofs of the upheaval of the land.
Besides suffering from the effects of the earthquake and three invading waves, which, coming from the west round both points of the island, united to overflow the low ground near the village, Santa Maria was upheaved nine feet. It appeared that the southern extreme of the island was raised eight feet, the middle nine, and the northern end upwards of ten feet. The Beagle visited this island twice--at the end of March and in the beginning of April: at her first visit it was concluded, from the visible evidence of dead shell-fish, water-marks, and soundings, and from the verbal testimony of the inhabitants, that the land had been raised about eight feet. However, on returning to Concepcion, doubts were raised; and to settle the matter beyond dispute, one of the owners of the island, Don S. Palma, accompanied us the second time. An intelligent Hanoverian, whose occupation upon this island was sealing, and who had lived two years there and knew its shores thoroughly, was also passenger in the Beagle.
When we landed, the Hanoverian, whose name was Anthony Vogelborg, showed me a spot from which he used formerly to gather ‘choros,’[33] by diving for them at low tide. At dead low water, standing upon the bed of ‘choros,’ and holding his hands up above his head, he could not reach the surface of the water: his height is six feet. On that spot, when I was there, the ‘choros’ were barely covered at high spring-tide.
Riding round the island afterwards, with Don Salvador and Vogelborg, I took many measures in places where no mistake could be made. On large steep-sided rocks, where vertical measures could be correctly taken, beds of dead muscles were found ten feet above the recent high-water mark. A few inches only above what was then the spring-tide high-water mark, were putrid shell-fish and sea-weed, which evidently had not been wetted since the upheaval of the land. One foot lower than the highest bed of muscles, a few limpets and chitons were adhering to the rock where they had grown. Two feet lower than the same muscles, chitons and limpets were abundant.
An extensive rocky flat lies around the northern parts of Santa Maria. Before the earthquake this was covered by the sea, some projecting rocks only showing themselves: after it, the whole surface was exposed; and square acres (or many quadras) of the rocky flat were covered with dead shell-fish, the stench arising from which was abominable. By this elevation of the land the southern port of Santa Maria was almost destroyed: there remained but little shelter, and very bad landing: the soundings having diminished a fathom and a half every where around the island.
At Tubul, to the south-east of Santa Maria, the land was raised six feet. The waves did not enter that river’s mouth until about one o’clock; and then in greater number, but with less force, six or seven having been counted. Might not this be owing to the meeting of the divisions of the great wave which passed around Santa Maria.
At the island of Mocha the shock of the earthquake was so strong that people could not stand. The sea washed over the rocks at the end of the island, higher than it had ever reached in a heavy gale of wind. Anthony Vogelborg was on one of those rocks, or rather on an islet at the south end of Mocha, at the time, with a party who were sealing. Their boat was hauled up on the top of the rocky islet, and, expecting to be washed off, they held by it in readiness. The boat was lying nearly east and west. During the earthquake some water in her bottom ran as fast from one end of the boat to the other as if some one were quickly lifting one end off the ground and letting it down again. It did not wash from side to side at any time. Two forked sticks were stuck in the ground, about three yards apart; another lay across them for hanging things to dry. These sticks also were nearly east and west of one another: and during the shock they waved to and fro till the forks touched, and the cross stick fell. Strong shocks were felt by vessels under sail near Mocha; and between Mocha and Concepcion, the same was experienced by several vessels, not only on the 20th, but during following days.
At anchor off Mocha on the 24th, a shock was felt by me, which resembled the sudden dragging of the anchor over rocks. Under way on the 2d of March, it was thought that a chain-cable was running out at the hawse. In one vessel they supposed she had run ashore: on board of another, that the ship had passed over a whale. Vogelborg thought that the land had been upheaved about two feet; and from his accuracy in other matters, I am inclined to trust to his opinion.
At Valdivia the shock began gently, increased gradually during two minutes, was at its strongest about one minute, and then diminished. The motion was undulating and regular, like waves rolling from west to east, but strong; and it lasted nearly ten minutes. There was no difficulty in standing or walking, but the houses waved and cracked. The stone church tottered, but was not injured; its roof was very light. All the dwelling-houses being strongly built of wood, withstood the shock. Most people thought the motion was from south-west to north-east, but Mr. Darwin and a person with him at the time, thought the reverse.
The river increased, or rose, at the same time, and rapidly fell again to its former height. In the port the sea swelled suddenly upon the shore to high-water mark, though it was then nearly the time of low-water, and quickly fell again. Both sea and river rose and fell frequently during the remainder of the day. The river never fell below its usual height, neither did the sea retire beyond its proper place, at that time of tide; but each swelled from time to time and again sunk down. This happened once or twice in an hour. After the great convulsion, other slighter shocks occurred at intervals of a few minutes during an hour. In the afternoon, at about five, a smart shock was felt, which made the people run out of their houses.[34] One man and one woman were drowned by the sudden rise of the sea near Niebla: it was supposed that they were upon the rocks gathering shell-fish. Excepting in this instance, no injury was done at Valdivia. No noise preceded or accompanied any of the shocks.[35]
This great earthquake extended to the island of Chilóe, and probably still farther to the southward. The shock was there slight, but lasted during six or eight minutes; it was neither preceded nor followed by any subterranean noise. At about thirty-four minutes after eleven,[36] the beginning of the shock was felt. The motion was undulating and not strong. The swell of the sea was felt there, but I know not at what time. A man was going to leave the shore[37] in his boat; he went a short distance to fetch something, and returning found the boat aground and immoveable: puzzled and vexed he went away, but had not gone many yards before his son called to him that it was afloat.
In the small port of Coliumo, close to the northward of Concepcion Bay, the waves rose about as high as at Tomé, nearly fourteen feet before they reached the shore. The little village of Dichato shared the general calamity; but, standing rather higher and more distant from the sea than Talcahuano, it escaped the ravages of that element.
At the mouth of the Maule the force and height of the waves must have been considerably diminished; for no particular effect was noticed at the time, nor were there any marks upon the shore by which the height of the wave could be afterwards ascertained. That the sea should not there have occupied attention is not surprising, when one considers the locality of La Constitucion, as the port and town are called. On level low land, at the south side of the river, lies the town; between which and the sea there is high land, and a distance of about a mile. The river winds round the northern promontory of the high land, and then fights its way to sea over a bar, on which there are always breakers. There are no houses on the sea-shore; and, without going half a-mile up the hill, the sea cannot be seen; naturally then, for some time after the town was ruined by the earthquake, the inhabitants would be engaged in saving and sheltering their property, rather than looking at the ocean. I could not ascertain whether the river had risen or not: and having previously heard that the waves were very powerful at the mouth of the Maule, I was a good deal surprised to find they had been almost unnoticed: but all attention seemed to have been engrossed with the earthquake.
A vessel, lying close under the promontory mentioned above, was obliged to move as quickly as possible, when the shocks began, so serious was the shower of stones which rattled down the hill and fell about, and on board of her. I was assured by the governor, by the chief pilot, and by other residents, that instead of the land having been elevated at all, they considered that it had sunk about two feet. The pilot said he had found two feet more water on the bar, since the great shock, and that he was certain the banks of the river were lower, though he could not say exactly how much. A rush of water might have shifted the loose sands of the bar; but whether the land had sunk seemed to me very doubtful. Certainly, however, it had not risen.
The island of Juan Fernandes was very much affected. Near Bacalao Head an eruption burst through the sea, in a place about a mile from the land, where the depth is from fifty to eighty fathoms. Smoke and water were thrown up during the greater part of the day, and flames were visible at night.[38] Great waves swept the shores of the island, after the sea had retired so much that old anchors were seen at the bottom of the anchorage.
This earthquake was felt at all places between Chilóe and Copiapó: between Juan Fernandes and Mendoza. On the sea-coast, within those limits, the retiring and swelling of the ocean was every where observed. At Mendoza the motion was evenly gentle. Copiapó, Huasco, and Coquimbo felt similar, although rather more forcible undulations. Towns, and houses which lay between the parallels of thirty-five and thirty-eight, suffered extremely; nearly all were ruined; but northward and southward of those latitudes, slight injury was done to any building. In the parallel of thirty-three and a-half, Juan Fernandes suffered, yet Valparaiso, opposite, escaped uninjured.
As to the state of neighbouring volcanoes, so various were the accounts of their action, both after and before the earthquake, that I had no means of ascertaining the full truth; but I heard from Valdivia that directly after the earthquake all the volcanoes from Antuco to Osorno, inclusive, were in full activity.[39]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] We had three sextants, made for me by Worthington, which had additional horizon glasses, enabling them to measure any angle less than 160°. The contrivance was my own, and found to answer. It is described in the Appendix.
[2] Called “Los Llanos,” or the plains.
[3] On which is the town of Valdivia.
[4] That church and other edifices have since been laid in ruins by the violent earthquake of Nov. 7, 1837.
[5] He was a very intelligent, observing man, and a good workman: while belonging to the Beagle, he was rated carpenter’s mate.
[6] The Huilli-che.
[7] By giving them infected things.
[8] Fermented liquor made from maize, apples, or other substances.
[9] Molina, Hist. Civil de Chile. Vol. ii. p. 333. Falkner says that the Vuta Huilli-che substitute t for ch, p. 99.
[10] I am informed by Doctor Andrew Smith, that the word Ham is still common among the nations of southern Africa, as a distinguishing appellation.
[11] An Araucanian name for the Spaniards, signifying assassins.
[12] I shall recur to Mocha again.
[13] Chiefly gulls.
[14] Sea-breeze.
[15] Mean time. Equation = 14 m. subtractive from mean time.
[16] The direction of these cracks was not uniform, though generally south-east and north-west.
[17] The streets of Concepcion lie north-east and south-west: north-west and south-east.
[18] Vertically, as if by the undulatory movement of the earth’s surface in the direction of their length.
[19] Large unbaked bricks.
[20] Both bricks and mortar were excellent.
[21] Penco, the first Spanish capital of the province of Concepcion, was overwhelmed by the sea in 1730: and old Concepcion in 1751.
[22] Thieves were numerous in Talcahuano. Directly after the ruin these scoundrels set to work--though crying ‘Misericordia,’ and with one hand beating their breast--with the other they stole most industriously.
[23] Or steadied by a second anchor which was too light to withstand any great strain.
[24] Chain.--The holding-ground is excellent, a soft, tenacious mud.
[25] Nearly half a cable’s length; or from sixty to one hundred yards.
[26] About thirty tons.
[27] Chilian schooner of war.
[28] Chiefly, if not all, whale-boats.
[29] Only four years old.
[30] Tomé is near the eastern entrance of the bay, where the wave would meet with more interruption than near Lirquen, though considerably less than in the western passage.
[31] First floor rooms.
[32] In Concepcion a fall of two or three tenths indicates bad weather; four or five tenths a gale of wind, with much rain.
[33] A large kind of muscle.
[34] Although built of wood.
[35] (Valdivia has since been ruined).
“Valdivia, Nov. 7, de 1837.
“El gran terremoto que ha esperimentado este pueblo en la mañana de este dia, sin tocar los limites de la exajeracion, se puede asegurar sea el mayor de los hasta aqui acontecidos. Dió principio a las 8 y 5 minutos; y terminó a las 8 y quarto: advirtiendo que el movimiento de la tierra en este espacio de tiempo fué tan extraordinario que con dificultad podia un hombre sostenerse en pié. Continuó en seguida hasta las 9 y media con interrupcion solo de momentos, y desde esa hora hasta las 12 y tres cuartos que son actualmente se esperimentan los mismos movimientos, aunque no con igual fuerza. Las dos unicas iglesias que habia en este pueblo, y todos los edificios fiscales, se han arruinado completamente y si no les ha caido igual suerte a las demas casas de esta poblacion ha contribuido sin duda la circumstancia de ser ellas de madera, aunque por lo general han sufrido grande detrimento.
“ISIDRO VERGARA.”
“Al S^r. Ynt^e. de la prov. de Concepcion, Dn. Manuel Búlnes.”--Extracted from the ‘Araucano’ of Chile, Dec. 8, 1837.
[36] Mean time (exact?).
[37] Point Arena--San Carlos.
[38] The highest summit of Juan Fernandes was “found to be burned, full of fissures and hot,” in 1743. Ulloa saw a small flame there.--Voyage of Juan and Ulloa; translated by Adams.
[39] Of another earthquake the “Araucano,” of Dec. 8, 1837, states as follows:
“Talcahuano, Nov. 7, 1837.
“Fué bastante recio y duró como cuatro o cinco minutos, con la particularidad notable de haberse advertido un pequeño retroceso de la mar á cia su centro en Talcahuano, y haber quedado interrumpido por algunos dias el flujo y reflujo de sus aguas.”
Chapter XIX
Mocha--Movement of Land--Penco--Ulloa--Shells--Coal--Maule --Topocalma--Aconcagua--Valparaiso--Horcon--Papudo--Pichidanque --Conchali--Herradura--Coquimbo--Wreck--Challenger--Blonde--Ride --Estate--Colcura--Villagran--Arauco--Former caciques--Colocolo --Caupolican--Scenery--Quiapo--Night travelling--Leübu--Tucapel --Valdivia--Lautaro--Challenger.
When the Beagle entered Concepcion Bay, she had only one heavy anchor left, having broken or lost the others; and as there were none fit for her at Talcahuano, it became absolutely necessary to go to Valparaiso: accordingly, on the 7th of March we left the melancholy ruins and their disconsolate tenants, and on the 11th dropped our only anchor at Valparaiso. There our wants were soon supplied, and we sailed on the 17th to re-visit Concepcion.
From the 27th the time was occupied in surveying the neighbourhood of Concepcion, Arauco Bay, the island of Santa Maria, and Mocha, until the 17th of April.
Mocha is a prominent land-mark for navigators, but dangerous rocks lie about its south-west quarter, and as the current usually sets northward, a ship ought to beware of them. Previous to the eighteenth century it was inhabited by Araucanian Indians, but they were driven away by the Spaniards; and since that time a few stray animals have been the only permanent tenants. Most of the early voyagers speak of it. We found the anchorage indifferent, the landing bad, and no supplies to be obtained except wood, and, with much difficulty, water.
Our duties were greatly forwarded while about Concepcion, by the earnest and very kind assistance of the yntendente, Don José Alemparte; and the active friendliness of Mr. Rouse, the British consul. Though their houses were levelled, and they themselves without any of what most Englishmen would call comfort, we were received and attended to by them and the ‘Penquistos,’[1] as cordially as if their nerves and minds had endured no strain.
Although it was indisputably proved to the satisfaction of every person in the neighbourhood, that elevations of land had occurred to the extent mentioned in the previous chapter, I strongly suspect that a sinking down has taken place since that period, to a very considerable amount, if not quite enough to counterbalance former elevation. This idea is suggested by the fact that when I was last at Talcahuano, in July 1835, only four months after the great convulsion, the shores of Concepcion Bay had regained their former position with respect to the level of the sea:[2]--by what the people of Tubul told me, when I rode by, of the sea having returned to its centre,[3] (meaning that it had regained its usual height),--and by what the inhabitants of Santa Maria said, when they told me that for three or four weeks immediately following the earthquake, their little port was much shallower than it was when I went there seven weeks afterwards.
Whether this conjecture be well founded a short time may show: if it should be, an explanation might thus arise of the differences of opinion respecting the permanent elevation of land near Valparaiso, where some say it has been raised several feet during the last twenty years, while others deny that it has been raised at all. It may have been elevated, or upheaved as geologists say, for a time, but since then it may have settled or sunk down again gradually to its old position. In a place like Valparaiso Bay, where dust is so much blown from the land to the water’s edge, and even out to sea; and where many streams bring detritus from ravines, no decisive judgment can be formed as to the rise of land, because of the beach increasing gradually, and the water diminishing in depth.
In a ride along the beach of Concepcion Bay, with Mr. Rouse, we examined the solid wall of old Penco Castle, and found on one side the date 1686 and on another 1687.
This castle and the adjoining foundations of houses, are so near the level of the sea, that I am surprised the inhabitants should not have feared being frequently inundated, even by tides only a few feet higher than usual.
If all this coast has been more or less upheaved during comparatively modern times, how is it that the foundations of Penco still stand at the water’s edge, very little above the level of a high spring tide? Ulloa remarks, that “the country round the bay, particularly that between Talcahuano and Concepcion, within four or five leagues from the shore, is noted for a very singular curiosity, namely, that at the depth of one-half or three-quarters of a yard beneath the surface of the ground, is a stratum of shells of different kinds, two or three toises in thickness, and in some places even more, without any intermixture of earth, one large shell being joined together by smaller, and which also fill the cavities of the larger. From these shells all the lime used in building is made, and large pits are dug in the earth for taking out those shells, and calcining them. Were these strata of shells found only in low and level places, the phenomenon would be more easily accounted for by a supposition no ways improbable, namely, that these parts were formerly covered by the sea, agreeable to an observation we made in our description of Lima. But what renders it surprising is, that the like quarries of the same kind of shells are found on the tops of mountains in this country, fifty toises above the level of the sea. I did not indeed personally examine the quarries on the highest of those mountains, but was assured of their existence by persons who had lime-kilns there; but I saw them myself on the summits of others, at the height of twenty toises above the surface of the sea, and was the more pleased with the sight, as it appeared to me a convincing proof of the universality of the deluge. I am not ignorant that some have attributed this to other causes; but an unanswerable confutation of their subterfuge is, that the various sorts of shells which compose these strata both in the plains and mountains, are the very same with those found in the bay and neighbouring places. Among these shells are three species very remarkable: the first is called ‘choros,’ already mentioned in our description of Lima; the second is called ‘pies de burros,’ asses’ feet; and the third ‘bulgados,’ and these to me seem to preclude all manner of doubt that they were originally produced in that sea, from whence they were carried by the waters, and deposited in the places where they are now found.
“I have examined these parts with the closest attention, and found no manner of vestige of subterraneous fires. No calcinations are to be met with on the surface of the earth, nor among the shells; which, as I have already observed, are not intermixed with earth; nor are there stones, or any other heterogeneous substances found among them. Some of these shells are entire, others broken, as must naturally happen in such a close compression of them, during so long an interval of time.
“The pie de burro has its name from the fish enclosed in it, resembling, when taken out, the foot of an ass. This fish is of a dark brown colour, firm and filaceous; it is an univalve, its mouth almost circular, and its diameter about three inches. The bottom of the shell is concave within, and convex without. The colour within is perfectly white, the surface very smooth; the outside scabrous and full of tubercles. Its thickness in every part is about four or five lines; and being large, compact and heavy, it is preferred to all others for making lime.
“The bulgados, in the Canaries called bulgaos, are snails, not at all differing in their form from the common, but larger than those of the same name found in gardens, being from two inches to two inches and a-half in diameter. The shell is also very thick, rough on the outside, and of a dark brown colour; and, next to the preceding, makes the best lime.
“All these species of shell fish are found at the bottom of the sea in four, six, ten, and twelve fathom water. They are caught by drags; and what is very remarkable is, that no shells, either the same, or that have any resemblance to them, are seen either on the shores continually washed by the sea, or on those tracks which have been overflowed by an extraordinary tide. They adhere to a sea-plant called cochayuyo[4].
“This plant divides itself into several branches, equal in dimensions to the main stem. These branches successively produce others of the same proportion, so that the produce of one single root covers a prodigious space. At the joints, where the branches spring, is found this kind of shell-fish, where they both receive their nourishment, and propagate their species.”--Ulloa’s Voyage, translated by Adams, vol. ii. pp. 252-254.
Not far from Old Penco is the stratum of coal about which there has lately been much discussion.
Herrera says, “There is coal upon the beach, near the city of Concepcion: it burns like charcoal.”[5] Frezier bears witness that near Talcahuano there is good coal, which can be obtained without digging deeper than two feet; and he declares that the natives were astonished at his companions taking a substance out of the earth to burn as fuel in their forge.[6] Captain Basil Hall saw the place whence coal had been “worked without any trouble. The seam is thick, and apparently extensive, and might probably, with due care and skill, be wrought to any extent.”[7] Captain Hall “laid in a supply of coals at this place. The coals, which were brought for us to the beach, cost twelve shillings per ton, every thing included.”[8] Stevenson says, “To what extent the coal reaches, has never yet been ascertained; all that has been used has been obtained by throwing aside the mould which covers the surface. This coal is similar in appearance to the English cannel; but it is reasonable to suppose that if the mine were dug to any considerable depth, the quality would be found to improve.”[9]
Many other authorities[10] might be cited to prove that coal exists abundantly near Concepcion, and that it has often been used. There are objections to it, by no means insuperable, which have alarmed people, and checked the working of those mines. It is said to be very bituminous--that it burns too quickly to ashes to answer well for smith’s work, because it does not give heat enough--and that it is liable to spontaneous combustion. The last objection might be removed by keeping the coal under water,[11] and coking[12] would render it available for the forge. Some geologists say that it is ‘mere lignite,’ and think very lightly of its quantity or value; but practical men will doubtless attach some value to what has been proved by experience.
On the 17th of April, the Beagle sailed from Concepcion Bay, examined Coliumo, and, coasting along, anchored off the Maule River on the 20th. In a very thick fog, during the night of the 19th, while carrying sail to get an offing, we were within a fathom of being run down by a vessel crossing us on the opposite tack. As both ships were under all sail, and it was dark, our momentary sensations were far from agreeable.
To land here was perplexing enough, for a heavy surf broke on the bar of the river, and nearly as much along the shore; but with some risk and difficulty we effected our purpose in two light whale-boats, which could be hauled up directly they touched the beach. Nearly all the population of a thriving village, called Constitucion, came down to meet us (on the 21st), and assist in hauling our boats up the steep though yielding sand, where, for our comfort, they told us a whole boat’s crew had been drowned, not long previously, in attempting to land. From a height overlooking the river, village, and neighbourhood, we enjoyed a very pleasing view, so long as we turned away from the bar of the river, and the surf. A rich country and a fine river are pleasing things at all times, but the difficult approach to Constitucion mars half its beauty. Only the smallest craft can cross the bar; it is dangerous for boats to land on the outer beach: and difficult for them to profit by the few opportunities which occur of passing the bar without risk.
Notwithstanding these local disadvantages, Constitucion may thrive wonderfully hereafter, by the help of small steamers, for she has a most productive country around her, abounding in internal as well as external wealth, and a navigable river at command. Besides this, in 1805, a very practicable passage was discovered through the Andes, about seventy leagues south of Mendoza, not far from the latitude of the River Maule, almost entirely level, and fit for waggons--the only pass of such a description between the isthmus of Darien and Patagonia.
From the Maule we sailed along the coast northward; limited time, and work in prospect urging us to hasten more than could have been wished. The shoal, or rather rocks of Topocalma, or Rapel, were examined; some coves looked at, fit only for coasting launches, and the line of this bold, but uninteresting coast tolerably well determined. Before sunrise, on the 22d, we had a splendid view of the Andes--their range or cordillera being unclouded, and distinctly visible from south-east almost to north. The sharp summit of Aconcagua, 23,000 feet above the sea level, towered high over any other.
At noon, on the 23d, we hove-to off Valparaiso, and sent boats ashore. Mr. Darwin came on board, and among other pieces of good news, told me of my promotion. I asked about Mr. Stokes and Lieut. Wickham, especially the former; but nothing had been heard of their exertions having obtained any satisfactory notice at head-quarters, which much diminished the gratification I might otherwise have felt on my own account. Mr. Darwin returned to the shore, intending to travel overland, to meet us at Coquimbo, his very successful excursion across the Andes having encouraged him to make another long journey northward.
On the 25th, we anchored in Horcon Bay, a place (by some curious accident) entirely left out of all former charts, although there is good anchorage, and a fishing village not far from a populous small place called Puchancavi. From this station we sailed to Papudo, a small port rising into repute, on account of copper-mines in its neighbourhood. It is well marked by a high-peaked hill, called Gobernador. Next to Papudo lies Ligua, a place where boats only can go; farther north, or ‘down the coast’ (as they say in Chile and Peru), is Pichidanque, an excellent cove, rather than port, now much used for shipping copper, and formerly a smuggling place; rendered more notorious by the murder of Burcher, the master of an English smuggling vessel called the Scorpion, who was enticed ashore and assassinated, after which his ship was seized and plundered. This took place in the present century; and an individual, who was said to have taken an active part in the tragedy, was living at Quillota, in 1835.
Close to Pichidanque is a high pointed hill, called ‘Silla’ (from its saddle shape), seeing which distinctly from Valparaiso, is said to be a sign of an approaching northerly wind.
I landed at Conchali after dark on the 30th, leaving the Beagle under sail in the offing. My reception was very hospitable; but the people made sure I was a smuggler; and some of the principal inhabitants rode with me several miles next morning to the place where my boat was hauled ashore, thinking all the time that I was only waiting for a favourable opportunity to tell them my secret, and make advantageous terms. All this coast, except a few corners, is bold and high, barren and uninteresting; though picturesque in outline.
May 2d. Another smuggling cove, called Quilimari, was examined by me. There is but doubtful landing, and no shelter for a vessel; balsas, however, might do a good deal of work for such a character as I was taken for at Conchali.
On the 4th, having hastily reconnoitred the coast nearly as far as Coquimbo, we ran into Herradura Cove, and moored ship securely. It was my intention to refit there thoroughly, and prepare the Beagle for receiving a large supply of stores and provisions at Valparaiso, which would enable her to run down the coast to the Galapagos, and thence cross the Pacific to Sydney in Australia. In Herradura she lay quietly close to the land until the 6th of June: and all her crew were encamped on shore near the ship, while she was thoroughly cleared out, re-stowed, and painted. At Coquimbo (or Serena) we always met with a hearty welcome whenever duty required that we should go there, or when we went for our own amusement. The Yntendente, Yrrisarte, the kind-hearted Mr. Edwards and his family, and others, will not easily be forgotten by the Beagle’s officers.
As another real benefactor to the public service, I may be allowed to mention Don Francisco Vascuñan, who lent me a vessel of thirty-five tons, called the Constitucion, to be employed in forwarding the survey. This craft was built in the River Maule, and bore a very high character as a sea boat. Lieutenant Sulivan, Mr. King, Mr. Stewart, and Mr. Forsyth volunteered to go in her; so giving them a boat’s crew, a small boat, a native pilot with his balsa, and as good an outfit as my means would allow, I despatched this new tender to examine a portion of coast near Coquimbo, which the Beagle had not seen sufficiently, and directed Lieut. Sulivan, if he found the vessel efficient, to continue afterwards surveying along the coast of Chile, as far as Paposo, whence he was to repair to Callao.[13]
On the 6th of June, the Beagle left Herradura, and sailed towards Valparaiso. Anxious, however, to communicate with Don Diego Portales,[14] who was staying at his country-house, near Papudo, I touched there in my way; arrived at Valparaiso on the 14th of June, and immediately began the arrangements necessary for our preparations to quit Chile. The liberal assistance rendered by Don Francisco Vascuñan, in lending me his own vessel, without any kind of agreement or remuneration whatever, had enabled me to look forward to adding much of the coast of Chile to our gleanings in hydrography; for I well knew that Lieutenant Sulivan would not only make despatch, but extremely correct work.
Here I may remark, that if little is said henceforth about places so well known as the coasts of Chile, Peru, and other countries often described, it is because I feel bound to avoid mere repetition as far as possible, and because the limits of my narrative are fixed. For the present, leaving the Beagle to get her stores and provisions on board, I must turn to another scene.
16th June. By the post which arrived from Santiago this morning, an English merchant received a laconic account of the total loss of his Majesty’s ship Challenger. This report spread as quickly as bad tidings are wont to do: but no official information arrived during that day, or the ensuing night. Recollecting that a Swedish ship had come lately into Valparaiso, whose officers had seen what they described as “an American brig” cast away near Mocha; I found out the ship and questioned the master and mates. They had arrived at Valparaiso on the 25th of May, and all agreed in stating that on the 20th of that month, they saw a large vessel ashore on the coast of the mainland, to the northward and eastward of Mocha. They saw her at daylight, but as they had light airs of wind and a very heavy swell until three in the afternoon, to save themselves from danger they were obliged to make all sail away from the land, and lost sight of the wreck.
The vessel looked large, with fore and main masts standing, and top-gallant masts an end until eight o’clock, when the fore-topmast went over the side, or was struck: her fore-topsail yard remained across; no main-top-gallant yard was seen; the main-top-gallant mast was standing all day, and there was a large ensign at the mast-head: white and red were seen, therefore it was thought to be American. Her bow was to seaward, as if she had anchored; her sails were loose all day; people were seen on the after part of what appeared to be a roundhouse painted green. Bulwarks very high--ports very large--no boats on deck or at the quarters--no guns on upper deck. Looking at her end on, with the masts nearly in a line--all her upper deck could be seen, though very indistinctly, owing to hazy weather, the additional haze caused by spray thrown up from a furious surf, and their own distance from the wreck; which was never less than four miles.
The log of the Swedish ship was produced, which exactly corroborated their statement. The master said he could not lower a boat, so great was the swell; and during five hours of almost calm, he was drifting helplessly towards the wreck, and expecting to share her fate. The two masts and red and white ensign, caused them to consider her an American brig, and as such she was reported to the consul for the United States.
A few of the preceding data convinced me they had seen the poor Challenger, but I was more strongly assured of the fact by pointing to the Conway, then at anchor near us, and asking whether she was like that ship--and near her size? Yes, sir, they replied. The green roundhouse abaft, seemed to have been a deception caused by looking at the curved green taff-rail of the Challenger. I concluded that the mizen-mast had been cut or carried away; perhaps used as a raft: that the boats had been lowered, and that the ensign was St. George’s, (Sir G. E. Hamond’s flag being white at the mizen) but did not fly out, as there was no wind. The quarter-deck guns were close to the side, or perhaps below. Such were my thoughts, but other persons were of a totally different opinion. I was astonished that the Commodore did not hear officially from Santiago--particularly as the merchant’s private notice was received through our Consul-general.
17th. At the Post-office I obtained a large packet, directed to our vice-consul, the moment the post-master opened the mail bag; and hastening to the consul’s office, I was surprised to find it shut, and to hear that no one would be there for an hour or two. Such apathy--upon such an occasion! Not choosing to break the seals, though I saw by the direction what were the contents (Despatches by Challenger), I went in search of the proper person to open the packet: took the Commodore’s letters, and hastened with them to the Blonde. Every doubt was then ended. The Challenger was lost on the night of the 19th of May, at the spot described by the Swede: but all her crew were saved except two; and on the 26th of that month, Captain Seymour, the officers and men were encamped near the wreck, at a place called Molguilla. The Blonde prepared for sea: an offer of such assistance as I could render was accepted by the commodore; and, having arranged the Beagle’s affairs, as far as then necessary, I went on board the Blonde, taking with me Mr. Usborne, J. Bennett, and a whale-boat. Lieut. Wickham was to forward the Beagle’s duty during my absence, and take her to Copiapó, Iquique, and Callao, before I should rejoin her.
18th. Weighed at three in the morning and cleared the port before daybreak. A northerly, freshening wind favoured us much when in the offing.
21st. Anchored in the bay of Concepcion, off Talcahuano, at noon. As soon as I could get a boat I landed, and hastened to obtain information, horses, and a guide, as the commodore wished me to go to Captain Seymour, and concert measures for removing the crew and the remaining stores.
The captain of the port told Commodore Mason that the part of the coast on which the Challenger went shore, is quite inaccessible in any weather, but that boats had entered the mouth of the river Leübu, near Molguilla.
Lieutenant Collins (of the Challenger) had been at Talcahuano, trying to procure a vessel, in which the shipwrecked crew might embark by means of boats, at the Leübu, but not succeeding he had returned to his shipmates; whom he expected to find at the mouth of the river. It was said that a large body of Indians was in motion towards them, that the crew were short of provisions, and that they were becoming sickly. Assisted by the governor of Talcahuano, horses and a native guide were soon obtained; but I wanted a more energetic assistant, and engaged a Hanoverian who was used to the half Indian natives of the frontier, and well known among them. This man was Vogelborg, or Vergara, already mentioned. With orders and letters from Commodore Mason, accompanied by Vogelborg and H. Fuller, and provided with five horses, I left Talcahuano the same evening.
Being personally acquainted with the Yntendente, and his second in command, I hastened immediately to their houses at Concepcion, wishing to get an order to pass the Bio Bio River that night, and to procure a circular letter to the local authorities. Not a minute was lost by either of those zealous officers in attending to and complying with my requests. Alemparte left his dinner to write a circular letter, in his own hand; and neither he nor Colonel Boza would return to their respective parties, until they had ascertained that I was properly provided with horses and a guide, and that I required no further assistance.
Although orders were issued and the ferry-boat at her station, no crew were to be found, and only those men who belonged to the boat knew how to cross over safely. Vexatious as the delay seemed, I was afterwards glad of it; for judging by the work in day-light, I doubt our having ever reached the opposite bank with our horses, in a dark night.
While talking to Colonel Boza I remarked a watchful, wild-looking, young Indian, in a Chilian half-uniform, standing in the house. Something unusual in his manner attracted my notice though hurried, and I have since regretted losing that opportunity of acquainting myself with the son of Colipi, a famous cacique, who is the principal, and a very powerful leader of the northern Araucanians, though at present a friend to the Chilians. Colipi is a very tall and unusually strong man; his onset and his yell are talked of with a shudder, by those who have suffered from Indian hostility. Educating his son at Concepcion is one of the methods used to conciliate the ‘Barbaro.’
22d. Before the dawn of day we were looking for the water-men; and, as the sun rose, succeeded in getting their boat, or rather flat-bottomed barge, into motion. We rode into the river, about two hundred yards, until we reached the barge, then lying close to an overflowed bank. By some persuasion of voice, whip, and spur, the horses were made to leap out of the water, over the gunwale and into the boat. They certainly showed more sense than horses usually have, in understanding so readily how to behave; but whether their owners showed more than asses, in having so clumsy a ferry-boat, may be doubted. In leaping in the horses nearly knocked down, or trod upon, those who were dismounted; and when leaping out again, they made such a splashing of the water in the leaky ferry-barge as effectually washed our faces. The river is wide, deep, and rapid; and there are many sand-banks. The boatmen use oars as well as long poles; but are slow and awkward to a degree I could scarcely have believed, had I not witnessed their progress. The breadth at the ferry is about a quarter of a mile, when the river is low, but upwards of half a mile when flooded, as at this time. The south bank is steep; and from San Pedro, a little village at the ferry, the land rises in a south-east direction, towards a lofty range of hills; but towards the south-west, it is low, level, and firm. Across this excellent galloping ground we tried our horses, and made the miles seem short, till we reached a low range of hills over Point Coronel. There, dismounting, we used our own legs until the hills were passed, and before us lay two long sandy beaches, called ‘Playa Negra,’ and ‘Playa Blanca.’
In our gallop we passed the house of Don Juan de Dios Rivera,[15] whose estate on the south side of the Bio Bio is mentioned by Captain Hall as an instance of the progressive tranquillization of the Indians. Several large barn-like buildings spread over about two acres of ground, enclosed by a high fence of rough posts and rails, showed an eye accustomed to the country, that the proprietor held in his own hands a large estate: but that collection of thatched irregular roofs, and the utter absence of any thing like outward neatness or regularity, brought to my mind a very neglected rick-yard, near which not even a cottage appears.
Yet this was the house of a man of large property; and not by any means a bad one, compared with others in that country. Many reasons might be adduced to explain why Chilian gentlemen are reluctant to expend either time, trouble, or money in building good houses. Earthquakes are very frequent; property is yet insecure; and the country has been occupied, but so lately that there has not been any leisure time in which to think of more than the first necessaries of life. Noble trees surround this ‘casa de hacienda.’[16] No underwood impedes your riding at a rapid pace in any direction: and beyond the woody spaces, extensive plains stretch towards the sea and to the bank of the river. These plains are intersected by numerous streams, and adorned with irregular clumps or thickets of trees: smaller indeed than those which shade the ‘casa de hacienda,’ but of a size sufficient to shelter cattle.
This estate, which is not considered a large one in that country, comprises, besides many square leagues of wild hilly country, more than one hundred square miles of excellent land, well watered, abundantly wooded, and most pleasantly as well as conveniently situated. The owner is said to be a most worthy man, and numerous instances of his active goodness as well as excellent disposition, have been related to me at different times; one of which I must stop to relate.
My attendant, Vogelborg, passed near the door of Don Juan de Dios Rivera, while executing a commission entrusted to his most speedy despatch. Stopping a moment to ask the way, Don Juan remarked that he looked ill, and had better rest. Vogelborg thanked him, but explained the necessity of hastening onwards: in truth he was ill and very tired, though anxious to proceed. Don Juan then suggested the quicker method of forwarding the letters, entrusted to Vogelborg, by his own confidential servant, and forthwith despatched him upon one of his own horses, desiring Vogelborg to take possession of an excellent bed; where he remained two days under the kind care of Don Juan de Dios and his wife, who till that time, had never seen him.
Abreast of Negra Beach is an anchorage, sheltered from the north and north-west winds by Point Coronel, but exposed to the southerly and west winds. Here, as well as in coves further south, much smuggling was carried on in the time of the Spaniards.
Leaving the sea-shore, and some slippery rocky places over which we were obliged to lead our horses, we ascended the heights of Colcura. For our reward, after a muddy scramble up to the top of a steep hill, we looked down upon a fine though but partially wooded country, forming an agreeable succession of valleys and high grounds; while to seaward there was an extensive view of the coast, with the island of Santa Maria in the distance.
Perched on a height overlooking the sea, and directly above a very snug little anchorage, is the hamlet called Colcura; and thither we hastened, inattentive to the complaints of our guide (who was likewise guardian of the horses), and trusting to Vogelborg’s recollection of the road. Riding into a sort of field entrenchment at the top of Colcura hill, we were accosted by a sly-looking, sharp-visaged character, whose party-coloured jacket appeared to show that its owner held some office of a military nature, but whether that of ‘cabo,’[17] or a higher, I could not determine until I heard him say he could give us a good meal, and that he had three fine horses near the house; when at once styling him ‘gobernador’ I rebuked myself for having thought ill of his physiognomy, and proceeded to unsaddle. Disappointed, however, by a scanty bad meal, we thought to regain our tempers upon the backs of our host’s horses; but not an animal had he sent for; nor, to our further vexation, could any inducement tempt him to lend one of those fine horses, which, he still said, were close by. The Indians, he declared, were expected daily; he knew not the moment he might have to fly for his life; on no condition would he lend a horse: no, not if a fleet of ships were wrecked, and I were to offer him an ounce of gold for each mile that his horse should carry me.
Every Chilian residing on the frontier endeavours to keep by him a good horse, on which to escape, in case of a sudden attack of the Indians; for, as they never give quarter, and approach at a gallop, it is highly necessary to be always prepared. Those who can afford to do so, keep horses solely for the purpose of escape, which are the finest and the swiftest they can procure. I remember hearing, that when General Rosas was carrying on a war of extermination against the Pampa and Patagonian Indians, on the banks of the rivers Colorado and Negro, he had with him horses so superior, that it was said he could always ensure escape, if by chance he should be pursued: and one of them was invariably led about, saddled and bridled, near his tent.
Saddling our own steeds, and quitting the thin-faced dispenser of tough hens and sour apples, we set off at a gallop, leaving the lazy guide whom we brought from Talcahuano, to return there with the two worst animals (it was fortunate indeed we had brought with us a spare one), and in two hours we reached the foot of Villagran; that hill so famed in Araucanian story.
Being a natural barrier, it was a spot often chosen by the Araucanians, at which either to lie in ambush for the Spaniards, or openly oppose them. In one battle, the brave Villagran, after whom this ridge of hills is named, and a small Spanish force, opposed a multitude of Indians who had hemmed them in on every side. The only opening by which Villagran could escape, was stopped up with a barrier of branches and fallen trees, behind which the Indians stood discharging arrows and slinging stones. Ercilla gives an animated description of this scene; but as his book is scarce, I will attempt a free translation of that passage, lame as it must necessarily be.
---- ---- the veteran Villagran, Heedless of any kind of death, Hazarded all upon a cast.
He rode a stately powerful horse, Purest of Spanish blood-- Strength and activity were well combined In that courageous steed-- Swift and high-spirited, he yet obeyed The slightest touch of finger on the rein.
The danger reached--instant as thought-- The warrior’s spurs excite the noble brute-- He dashes on--and down the barrier goes. A deafening crash and dire dismay Followed, as onward tore their way Those few determined men.
The gallant steed unhurt appeared, Strove foremost in the fight, and feared Only to be the last! ERCILLA. Canto VI.
We ascended the heights by winding narrow paths, up which our horses were led, in order to spare them as much as possible, and met a small party of Chilians, on their way from the wreck of the Challenger towards Concepcion, from whom we heard that the wreck had been abandoned, and that the officers and crew were entrenched in a secure position, on the height of ‘Tucapel Viejo,’ close to the mouth of the river Leübu. We were also told that the Indians increased in number daily, and that great fears of their hostility were entertained.
From the summit of Villagran we had an extensive view, reaching from Tumbes Heights, at the west side of the Bay of Concepcion, to Cape Rumena. The low island of Santa Maria, with its sandy spit, shaped like an arm, seemed to be within a few miles of us, though distant several leagues. I could trace the long, low, and almost straight beach of Laraquete till ended by the white cliffs of Tubul: I could distinguish the height immortalized by Colocolo’s name, and under it smoke arising from the classical Arauco. Southward, a large extent of fertile, level, and rather woody plains reached to distant ranges of hills, which showed only a faint blue outline. Time allowed no delay, but with a hasty glance, as we mounted our horses and cantered along the summit, I saw a schooner[18] in the distance, off the Paps of Bio Bio, working her way to the southward.
Descending; the hill, we reached ‘Chivilingo,’ a village near a small river which runs through a ‘hacienda’ belonging to the ‘Santa Maria’ family. We called at the door of their large, barn-like dwelling, to ask if horses could be spared. The mistress of the house happened to be at home, having lately arrived from Concepcion; and directly she heard my story she ordered every horse to be put in requisition; but, unfortunately, two only were within reach, one of which was lame. All the others had been sent to grass at a distance. After acknowledging her kindness, and paying her ‘mayor domo’ for the hire of the horse, we pushed on with that one and two of the least jaded of our own animals.
Between Chivilingo and the rivulet called Laraquete is a hill, unimportant at present, though it may hereafter become of consequence, as it contains coal. Some that I carried away with me was thought to be almost equal to cannel coal, which it very much resembled. The little river Laraquete, which will admit a large boat at high water, runs at the foot of the hill, and there is no surf where it enters the sea. Very glad I was then to see nothing like a hill between us and Arauco. We urged our horses along the dead level, and reached a pass of the Carampangue river as the sun was sinking below the horizon. From his sickly appearance and the black gathering clouds, I thought we should not be long without heavy rain, and that the sooner we could house ourselves the better. The Carampangue is shallow, except in the middle, but wide. Men and animals are carried over it on a ‘balsa,’ made of several logs of light wood fastened together, and pushed or poled across with their burdens by one man. These contrivances are very convenient where the water is shallow near the bank, and where the bank itself is low: for a horse can walk upon them from the shore without difficulty, or any scrambling; and as soon as they ground on the opposite side, it is equally easy to disembark. Where wood is not plentiful, balsas are made of rushes tied together in bundles; or of hides sewn up and inflated, or made into a rough kind of coracle.
The last few miles had been slowly accomplished by dint of whip and spur; but from the river to Arauco was a long league over unknown ground, in the dark, and while rain fell fast. Heavily we toiled along, uncertain of our way, and expecting each minute to be bogged; our horses, however, improved as we neared their anticipated resting place, and almost tried to canter as lights appeared twinkling within an open gateway in the low wall of Arauco.[19] We asked for the house of the ‘comandante,’ and were directed to a rancho rather higher and larger than the rest. Without a question we were received, and told to make the house our own. That we were wet and tired, was a sufficient introduction to the hospitable Chilian.
Before thinking of present comfort, it was necessary to secure horses for the next day’s journey, and dispose of our own tired animals; but money and the willing assistance of the comandante (Colonel Ger^o. J. Valenzuela), soon ensured us both horses and a guide. In the colonel’s house, a barn-like building, entirely of wood, and divided into three parts by low partitions, I was surprised to see an arm-chair of European make, which in no way corresponded to the rest of the furniture. Some large shells, not found in these seas, also caught my eye, and tempted me to ask their history. They had been brought only the previous day from the wreck of the Challenger, and were given by Captain Seymour to Don Geronimo, who had himself but just returned from assisting the shipwrecked party. His account and the chances of an attack being made by the Indians, increased our anxiety to proceed; it would, however, have been worse than useless to attempt finding our way in a dark night, while it was raining fast and blowing very hard; but at daybreak in the morning we saddled, and soon afterwards were splashing along the low flat tract of land extending from Arauco westward towards Tubul. Heavy rain during the night had almost inundated the low country, and to our discomfort appeared likely to continue during the day. In half an hour after starting we were soaked with mud and water; but being well warmed by galloping, we felt indifferent to the rain, and to a heavy gale of wind that was blowing.
Arauco, famous in Spanish song and history, is simply a small collection of huts, covering a space of about two acres, and scarcely defended from an enemy by a low wall or mound of earth. It stands upon a flat piece of ground, at the foot of the Colocolo Heights, a range of steep, though low hills, rising about six hundred feet above the sea.
In the sixteenth century, Arauco was surrounded by a fosse, a strong palisade, and a substantial wall, whose only opening was secured by a gate and drawbridge. Now the ditch, dug by the old Spaniards, is filled up, and the remains of their drawbridge have disappeared, having been used probably as fuel. This was the first place assaulted by the Indians, after their grand union against the Spaniards, at the end of the sixteenth century. To relate even a part of the history of those times would be digressing too much; but an anecdote of Colocolo and the great Caupolican may shorten our journey, and divert us for a time from mud, and rain, and wind.
Ashamed at having given way to men, at first imagined to be gods, and indignant at the outrages and oppressions of their invaders, a general gathering of the Indian tribes took place near Arauco. Ercilla names sixteen caciques of renown, besides others of inferior fame, who assembled with their followers. At the feast which followed their first consultation, great disputes arose among the rival caciques. A general was to be chosen, and each esteemed himself worthy of that high distinction. Insulting words induced an appeal to arms, and desperate strife was about to commence, when Colocolo, the oldest and most respected chief, advancing hastily,[20] with haughty strides, exclaimed:--
“What madness is exciting you, Caciques! Thus eagerly to rush into a war Against the very sources of our strength-- To tear each other’s entrails out, as beasts, And utterly forget the tyrant foe? Turn your arms and angry blows Against those authors of your slavery, Whose shameful inroads on our fathers’ land Heap infamy upon Arauco! Arauco’s sons yourselves display-- And cast their galling yoke away. Husband every drop of blood, To mingle with a Spanish flood!”
Having gained attention and temporary silence, the Araucanian Nestor continued an eloquent address to the angry chiefs, in which, after expostulating with them upon their ruinous rivalry; he exhorted them to choose a leader by some trial of ability, which should be publicly made; and suggested that the man who could bear a heavy weight for the longest time must be the fittest to endure the burthen of governing.
The caciques agreed to his proposal, and prepared a large trunk of a tree for this great trial of strength. Colocolo well knew that the qualifications of an Indian general were not bodily strength and activity, unless accompanied by qualities of mind proportionably superior; but it happened that Caupolican exceeded all his countrymen in mental, and all but Lincoya in bodily qualifications. Accident had impeded his attendance at the ‘gathering,’ and the object of Colocolo in proposing so tedious and otherwise absurd a trial was to gain time for Caupolican’s arrival.
Fourteen chiefs successively bore the ponderous tree upon their shoulders. No one gave up the trial, until he had endured more than four hours’ oppression; some even sustained the burthen six, eight, or ten hours; and one hardy mountaineer carried the tree for fifteen. But the famed Lincoya claimed the prize; confiding in his Herculean strength, he had allowed all others to precede him in the trial. When at last he threw the mantle from his Atlas shoulders, he took the tree from the ground as if it had been a stick; ran, jumped, and danced with it on his back, seeming to feel no weight; and the multitude, astonished, exclaimed, ‘Lincoya shall be general! the rest are infants in comparison!’ but the wise Colocolo insisted upon the completion of the trial, knowing that Caupolican would soon arrive, and that Lincoya’s antics would exhaust even his great strength, and make it possible for an inferior to carry the tree longer. The crafty veteran had himself excited Lincoya to the unnecessary exertions which he knew would undermine him. From sunrise, until noon of the following day, full thirty hours, did the gigantic Lincoya sustain his immense load. While the air yet resounded to the shouts of ‘Lincoya,’ Caupolican arrived, and demanded to try his strength; but Colocolo interposed, saying that Caupolican had arrived from a great distance, and ought to rest. Until the next morning, therefore, the trial was postponed.
During the night, great excitement animated the vast multitude. The strength and ability of Caupolican were well known; even Lincoya doubted the result; he had deemed his only rival far off; and the antics in which he had indulged had prematurely exhausted his strength. At daybreak the tribes again assembled, and as the sun rose, Caupolican lifted the tree, and quietly poised it upon his shoulder. His manner, and the ease with which he placed his burthen, excited the surprise and admiration of all, except Lincoya, whose spirits sunk as he watched the cautiously guarded manner and easy movements of his rival.
During that day and the following night, lighted by the full moon; during the whole of the next day, and throughout the second night, did Caupolican sustain that overpowering weight which men of common strength could only bear during a very few hours: and when the sun rose on the third morning, the still untired chief lifted the tree above his head, and dashed it to the ground, with an effort which showed that his powers were far from being exhausted. He was unanimously chosen general, amidst extraordinary shouting and applause: and no sooner had the other caciques acknowledged his authority, than he began to take measures for acting immediately against the Spaniards.
Arauco, their nearest strong hold, was to be attacked. Eighty chosen men approached, disguised as the serving Indians, who supplied the Spanish soldiers with firewood, and forage for their horses. Each man, with his load of fuel or grass, in which his arms were hidden, advanced unsuspected to the fort, when, by preconcerted signal, they threw down their loads and attacked the unprepared Spaniards. This assault was the signal for other Indians to rush towards the fort; but the Spaniards, although surprised, made so good a defence, that almost all the eighty chosen men were killed, and no others could gain admittance. The whole Indian multitude then surrounded Arauco; and the Spaniards, seeing that they must be overpowered if they remained, opened the gate in the dead of the night and escaped. Thus began this famed insurrection, which caused the destruction of seven towns, and drove every Spaniard from Araucania.
Leaving the low land near the sea, we ascended sloping hills, and found ourselves in a beautiful country. Though I did not see it distinctly until my return, I will endeavour to describe it in this place:--the outer range of hills, near the sea, is a succession of downs, free from wood, except here and there in the valleys, and every where covered with short sweet grass:--there is no sandy or barren rocky land. Numbers of fine cattle were seen grazing in the neighbourhood, but very few sheep. In-shore of the downs is a very luxuriant country: gradually rising hills, every where accessible; extensive valleys, woods of fine timber trees, very little encumbered with underwood; spaces of clear grass-land, like fields; beautiful lakes, and numerous streams of excellent water, together with a rich soil clothed with sweet grass, disposed me to think this the finest country I had ever seen.
Generally speaking, the soil is clayey; but there is every where a layer of vegetable mould upon the surface; which indicates that the country was covered with wood until the Indians partially cleared it by burning. While they were so numerous as they are said to have been in the sixteenth century, large tracts of ground must have been cultivated by them, or cleared for their sheep. In riding across this now unemployed land, regretting at every mile that it should be so neglected, fine bullocks often crossed our path; or wild-looking, but well-conditioned troops of horses. These animals must be very nearly wild: for restrained by no fences, looked after by nobody, they are free to roam and feed where they please. Once only in a year they are driven together, if they can be found, to be counted, marked, or killed. Here and there a stray cottage, or rather hut, was seen, with a high thatched roof, like those of Chilóe. But for these cottages, and a field or two near them, this excellent country would have appeared to be quite deserted by the human race, though possessing every desirable quality. We passed over no hills of any consequence as to height, though generally we were ascending or descending. An in-shore circuit was taken, to avoid crossing three rivers, which, near the sea, are difficult to pass; and having lost our way (notwithstanding the alleged excellence of our guide), a native, almost Indian, was easily prevailed upon to run by the side of our horses until he put us into the right track. Before running through the bushes, he carefully tucked up his loose trousers as high as possible; thinking, I suppose, that his skin was less likely to be torn than the trousers; and thus bare-footed and bare-legged he ran before us for several miles with the greatest ease. At the cottage from which he came, a very good horse, in excellent condition, and well cleaned, was standing in a yard. I asked the owner to let me hire or buy him, but he would consent to neither; alleging that, in the Indian country, his life depended upon having a good horse close at hand. Three thousand Indians had assembled, he told me, and were expected to make an attack upon the Chilian frontier; but on what particular part was quite uncertain. They had heard of the wreck, and were actually going to the place to plunder the crew, when accidentally met and driven back by Colipi, with his friendly tribe. Dogs seem to be kept at these cottages for the same purpose as those at the ‘ranchos,’ in the Pampas, namely, to give warning of the approach of enemies. Small parties of Indians seldom or ever attack a house without reconnoitring carefully; and this they cannot effect if there are many dogs about.
After our running guide had left us, though put into the right track, we were soon at a loss again; so numerous were the tracks of horses and cattle in this rich pasture land. The professed guide whom we had brought from Arauco, was more useful in recovering half-tired horses, than from knowing the way: no sooner did he get upon a horse, which one of my party could not persuade to go out of a walk, than he started off at full gallop, exulting in his skill. Perhaps his secret lay in a sharp pair of iron spurs: for the thick skin and coarse hair of horses, so roughly kept as these, is proof against ordinary spurs, used with humanity.
Going very much by chance, often losing our way, and often taking a cast round to look for the most frequented track, we at last arrived at Quiapo, a hamlet consisting of five huts only, just in sight of one another on neighbouring hills. To which of them the name belongs, I know not, as ‘Todo es Quiapo,’ was all the answer I could get from my guide.
Riding up to the nearest hut, we tempted a young man who occupied it, to sally forth in the rain in search of fresh horses. This exertion was caused by the sure stimulant--money. We might have talked of the wreck, and the Indians, until that day month, without exciting our acquaintance to move; but the touch of dollars at once overcame the apathy with which he listened to our first request for food and horses. His wife told us to kill a fowl, if we could, for there was nothing else to be had; so forth we sallied, and as each understood that the permission applied to himself, great was the confusion among the poultry. To the dismay of our hostess, we soon reappeared, each with a fowl; but a certain silver talisman quickly hushed her scolding, and set her cooking. Meanwhile the rancho was ornamented with our wet clothes hanging about it to be dried; but rain came through the roof in so many places that our trouble was useless. Dripping wet, having been soaked since the morning, and of course cold, we could not go near the fire, because of the smoke; so with a long pole we poked a hole through the thatch, which let the smoke out, and then closing round the fire, we surprised the good woman by our attack upon her half-roasted fowls.
All these huts are much alike. Under one thatched roof, there is a place where all the family (including the dogs, cats, and pigs) eat, while sitting or lying round the fire, which is on the ground in the middle; and there is a kind of ‘dais,’[21] where the same party afterwards seek that sound sleep from which none of the insect tribe appear to awake them, however much they may plague others. Sometimes there is a sort of bedstead, and a slight partition for the older people; but the others take their rest upon the raised part of the floor, wrapped in sheep-skins, or goat-skins, and rough woollen clothes. A large heap of potatoes occupies one corner of the hut, and another is filled by a granary, curiously contrived with stakes about six feet in length, driven into the ground in a circle of perhaps six feet diameter. Rough wicker-work unites the stakes, and forms a bottom about half a foot from the ground. Straw is then inserted into the wattled-work, until there is enough to prevent any corn from falling through. This large fixed basket is filled at harvest time, and supplies the family during the whole year: neither rat or mouse can get at it without making a rustling noise, which instantly alarms each cat and dog.
Before our host returned with horses it was evening. He would have detained us until the next morning, could his arguments have availed, but finding that with or without him, on we were resolved to go, he set out at a good pace towards Leübu. Less rain and wind encouraged hopes of a fine night, so we trotted or galloped along while day-light lasted, but as the night grew dark rain again poured down: and, obliged then to go slowly, we followed one another as close as possible, placing the guide in front with a white poncho. While in the open country we got on pretty well, but, after two hours easy work, we found that the track was taking us through thick woods. My first intimation of the change was being nearly knocked off my horse by the bough of a tree, so pitchy dark was the night; and after this I kept my head on the horse’s neck, trusting to his eyes entirely, for I could see nothing. That our guide could find the way has been matter of astonishment to me ever since: he never failed once. Some of the defiles through which he led were knee-deep in clayey mud, so stiff that the horses could hardly move. Often we were set fast in such places, obliged to get off, and feel for the track,--knee-deep, and up to our elbows in mud,--for it was upon hands and knees that we went, oftener than upon our legs. Our guide knew we were in the right track, but each of us was obliged to seek safe footing for himself and his horse, in the defiles among steep ravines and streams, swelled by heavy rains. Passing these streams was dangerous, and there only did the guide hang back. At one brook which seemed by the noise, to be deep and large, he refused to cross, saying his horse would not go on, and that we could not get over in the dark. However, Vogelborg was not to be so stopped. Leaving his own horse stuck fast in a slough, he scrambled through, hauling my horse after him by the bridle. Holding by my horse’s long tail, and driving him on, I scrambled after: Vogelborg then went back, and with the guide brought the others over. In several places, while in the ravines, I had recourse to the tail of the guide’s horse for my support and dragged my own animal after me, for it was hopeless to remain on his back, so often was he stuck fast or down in the mud. The last man, Fuller, fared the worst, as he had no one behind him to drive his horse on; and frequently we were obliged to stop and holla to one another, to avoid parting company. At last we emerged from the wood and from those horrible ravines. Before us we could then see that there was space, nothing interfering between our eyes and the clouds; but while under the trees and in the water courses, utter blackness surrounded us to a degree I never witnessed in any other place. Our eyes were not of the least use, for I could not even see the white poncho of our guide, though close before me. Feeling and hearing alone availed. Heavy rain during the whole time prevented the mud from forming too thick a coat upon us. Another hour brought our small party to an Indian settlement, near the river Leübu; and as we rode by the huts, our guide talked to those within at the utmost pitch of his voice, as if determined no one should be ignorant of his adventure. Hearing their conversation carried on in the Indian language, was rather an impressive novelty. We continued our route, and at last reached the Leübu.
The north side of this river (on which we were), is low and sandy near the sea, but the south side rises to a high, remarkable headland, called the ‘Heights of old Tucapel,’--(‘Altos de Tucapel viejo.’) The breadth of the river is about one hundred yards. Tucapel was the name of one of the more powerful caciques who united under Caupolican, to resist and expel the Spaniards. In his district and near his usual residence, which bore the same name, the daring but avaricious Valdivia was overwhelmed by numbers and taken prisoner, though not until every one of his small party had desperately fought and devotedly died for the cause which many among them considered that of God and their king.
Religion had so much influence over the minds of the earlier Spaniards, and was so warped and misinterpreted by the priests of their day, that actions, in themselves most unjustifiable, found defenders and active supporters among churchmen, and energetic performers among those who trusted their consciences to other men’s keeping. An enthusiastically religious feeling, strengthened them to persevere under all trials and disappointments, and helps to account for the wonderful energy and constancy, shown in discovering, exploring and subduing the New World. This high sentiment of religion, urging them to conquer in order to convert to Christianity, and to honour God by serving their king, was an impelling motive in the minds of the early adventurers, at least as strong as the desire of riches. I here allude to those leaders who first opened the roads, which crowds of inferior men afterwards followed. One proof of this feeling is the fact, that the last of Valdivia’s faithful companions who fell, was his chaplain, without whom, it appears, he did not even go to battle.
Valdivia had set out in the morning with only fifty Spaniards, besides a body of friendly Indians, intending to attack and disperse the multitude of his opponents. As he approached Tucapel, some fugitive friends[22] entreated him not to proceed, assuring him that twenty thousand Indians were there who had sworn to take his life, or sacrifice their own. Despising the natives and used to conquer, Valdivia listened to no cautions. The three thousand Indians, supposed to be friendly, accompanied him to the battle but turned against him: and his own page, Lautaro, who there immortalized his name among his countrymen, was the first to set the example and proved himself the most daring in the fight. (It should be mentioned that Lautaro’s servitude was compulsory, having been brought up against his inclination, in the Spaniard’s house.)[23] Onward dashed Valdivia, at the head of his small band, and was speedily surrounded by a countless throng. Hemmed in on every side, and overpowered by men who till then used to fly from a man in armour and mounted on a horse, all that desperate brave men could do, was done: but their horses tired, slaughter appeared to diminish neither the number nor rage of their opponents, and one after another sunk to the ground. Valdivia’s chaplain fell the last, except the general himself, who fought like a lion at bay: till, seeing that he was alone, he turned and fled. The goodness of his horse enabled him to escape for a little while, but he was hunted by the swiftest and strongest, whose speed exceeded that of a tiring horse. His steed failed, and he was taken prisoner to be tortured and put to death, after suffering every torment that savage ingenuity could devise. When he was at the stake, the rage of the older Indians could not be repressed: and an aged man named Leocato, who had suffered long and severely by Spanish oppression, struck him on the head with his club, and at one blow deprived him of life.
Although surrounded by a multitude, so resolute and energetic were the companions of Valdivia, that they were actually gaining the day, until Lautaro rallied the retreating Indians, and by his heroism turned the tide of victory against the Spaniards. The natives’ superstitious awe of these superior men, once thought gods, added to their being mounted on horseback and clad in armour, were such immense advantages, that to oppose the progress of a few resolute Spaniards even by the numbers of a multitude, was a daring effort.
In consequence of this and many subsequent acts of valour and conduct, the young Lautaro became a most celebrated leader, and was chosen by Caupolican as his lieutenant and successor.
But I must return to the banks of the Leübu, which we were approaching as fast as our tired horses could drag their hoofs through deep, loose sand, when a solitary light moving on the dark side of the opposite high land, showed the place where our countrymen were anxiously waiting for assistance: we had heard that their encampment was under Tucapel Heights, and close to the river’s mouth.
As soon as we arrived at the water side, I hailed as loudly as I could call, but no answer was returned. Again I hailed “Challenger’s a-hoy,” and a faint ‘hallo’ repaid us for every difficulty. “Send a boat!” I called. “Aye, aye!” echoed from the hills. Lights appeared directly coming down the hill: a little boat came across the river, and very soon we were embarked in the Challenger’s dinghy,[24] the only boat saved. The master and one man were in her, from whom we heard that all the party were well, and that they had not yet been molested by natives.
Captain Seymour was at the landing place. Old friends, meeting under such circumstances, can say but little. Hastening to the encampment, where all had turned out to hear the welcome news of assistance being at hand, we made their hearts rejoice by saying that the Blonde was at Talcahuano, and coming to their relief. With the officers, I found our excellent consul, Mr. Rouse.[25] At the first intimation of the Challenger’s loss, he had hastened to the spot without an hour’s delay; well aware how useful his influence and information would prove, and supposing that the officers would not be conversant in Araucanian habits and language, even if they should have made a slight acquaintance with those of Chile. His assistance proved to be of the utmost consequence, for not only did his explanations intimidate and discourage open or disguised enemies, who were not wanting, but his credit and influence procured daily supplies of provisions: while to his address and good sense every one of the shipwrecked crew was much indebted in many transactions.
Daylight found Seymour and myself still talking, though he had given me his bed. Partly at that time, and partly in subsequent conversations, he gave me the following account of the loss of the Challenger; but without mentioning his own exertions or conduct, which I heard of from his officers.
* * * * *
I will take this opportunity of mentioning that there is a large fox, called ‘culpen,’ in the Araucanian country, which was mentioned to me as being more like a wolf than a fox; but at that time I paid very little attention to the subject. Stevenson says, “the culpen is rather more foolish than daring, but not void of the latter quality. It will advance within eight or ten paces of a man, and after looking at him for some time, will retire carelessly.” “Its colour is a dark reddish brown, with a long straight tail covered with shaggy hair; its height is about two feet.”--Stevenson’s South America, vol. i. p. 115. (Is not this like the Falkland animal?)
* * * * *
(Note referred to in page 423.)
(a) Ulloa said that the word ‘cochayuyo’ meant ‘lake herb.’ His authority is too good to be lightly questioned, otherwise I should have had no doubt that the word was derived from ‘cochun,’ ‘salt,’ or ‘bitter,’ and ‘yu,’ a thread: as the plant grows with long thread-like stalks, which taste salt, like most sea-weed: and ‘lavquen’ is the word generally used for ‘lake,’ as well as ‘sea,’ rather than ‘cocha.’
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Natives of Concepcion: so called because they formerly lived at Penco: before that city was overwhelmed in 1730.
[2] Close to the landing place at Concepcion is a rock that was usually covered at high-water, previous to the earthquake (of 1835), but which was two feet above the highest tides of the next few weeks. In July, 1835, that rock was covered at ordinary high-water, as in 1834.
[3] ‘Està ahora el mar à su centro.’
[4] See note at end of chapter.
[5] Dec. 8, l. 6, c, 11.
[6] Frezier’s Voyage, p. 146.
[7] Hall’s Journal, vol. i. p. 303.
[8] Idem, p. 307.
[9] Stevenson’s South America, vol. i. p. 121.
[10] The Earl of Dundonald for instance.
[11] I do not mean merely wet, but well saturated and covered with water till required for use.
[12] It has been coked, and found to answer well.
[13] Orders in Appendix.
[14] Don Diego Portales, one of the ablest men in South America, was murdered, in 1837, by some of his ungrateful countrymen.
[15] Yntendente of Concepcion in 1821.
[16] Country-house upon the owner’s estate.
[17] Corporal.
[18] The Carmen, with Mr. Usborne on board--see page 456.
[19] It is a low wall, or rather mound of earth, enclosing a number of ‘ranchos’ (cottages or huts).
[20] Ercilla, canto ii.
[21] Raised half a foot above the ground.
[22] Friendly Aborigines.
[23] Lautaro was the son of an Araucanian chieftain, who fell in battle against the enemies of his race. Though brought up and educated in the family of Valdivia, from a mere child, he had never ceased to long for an opportunity of turning his forced acquirements to the disadvantage of his instructors, and revenging the death of his father.
[24] At midnight. The horses were sent back to the Indian huts, with whose owners our guide held such noisy intercourse as we passed.
[25] H.B. Majesty’s consul at Concepcion.
Chapter XX
Challenger sails--Sounds off Mocha--Wrecked on the mainland--Crew saved--Stores landed--Camp formed--Great exertions, and excellent conduct--Mr. Consul Rouse--Leübu--Plague of mice--Curious rats --Return to Blonde--Ulpu--Araucanian dress--Arauco--‘Boroanos’ --Tubul--Bar rivers--Apples--Ferry--Blonde sails--Seek for the Leübu--Schooner Carmen--Errors and delay--Embark Challenger’s crew --Rescue the Carmen--Talcahuano--New Concepcion--Valparaiso --Coquimbo--Challenger’s sail in Conway--Reflections.
The Challenger sailed from Rio de Janeiro on the 3d of April 1835: she had much bad weather off Cape Horn, which lengthened her passage considerably.
On the 18th and 19th of May, strong north-west winds, with thick weather and heavy rain, prevented observations being taken; except a few for time only. The ship was approaching the land, and her position estimated by dead reckoning from the last observations.
At five P.M. on the 19th, the Challenger hove-to, bent cables, unstowed the anchors, and sounded, but no bottom was found with two hundred and ten fathoms of line. This sounding was taken as a matter of form rather than utility, for no one supposed that the ship could be less than fifty miles from a steep coast, off which soundings extend a very little way. At this time, she was really about twelve miles from Mocha, which bore from S.E. to S. The weather was clear overhead, but too hazy near the horizon to see land, or any object distant more than four or five miles. Mocha is high, bold land, which in clear weather may be seen at thirty, forty, or even fifty miles distance; but soundings are no guide in its neighbourhood. They are irregular, and indeed not to be got, except very near the land.
A course was shaped for passing Santa Maria, and approaching the entrance of Concepcion Bay; and with a strong wind from W.N.W., the ship ran eight or nine knots an hour, under treble-reefed topsails, courses, and jib, steering N.b.E. until eight o’clock, when it was thought prudent to haul to the wind until daylight. By many on board even this step was deemed unnecessary caution. Captain Seymour proposed putting her head to the south-west till daylight; but the master felt so confident of the ship’s place, and so much disliked the idea of losing both time and ground, that his opinion was preferred, and her head was kept to the northward. About nine, or soon after that time, the Challenger was lying from N. to N. ½ E., going about four knots, under the sail before-mentioned. The wind had moderated; but a thick haze surrounded the ship, though the sky overhead was clear.
Captain Seymour had been walking the deck for some time, and had only just gone to his cabin, when a change in the appearance[1] of the water alongside, and an unusual motion of the ship, startled the officer of the watch, and induced him to order the ‘helm’ down and ‘about ship,’ while a midshipman was sent to tell the captain there was a suspicious alteration in the water. Just then breakers were seen by the look-out men and by the officer of the watch at the same moment; and as the captain flew up the ladder, (the ship coming round) he saw her position, and gave the order, ‘mainsail haul,’ as she was rising to a heavy rolling breaker. The after-yards swung round, but while bracing them up, she struck heavily; then ‘hauling the head-yards,’ and bracing up, she seemed to ‘gather way’;--the foam alongside, from the recoiling waves, probably deceiving their eyes. A high breaking sea struck her bows--and astern upon the rocks, a helpless wreck, the proud Challenger was dashed.[2] Again, a great roller approached, threatening to overwhelm her; but it broke short, and only drenched her fore and aft with force sufficient to wash men overboard. While bracing-up, the topmen had been ordered aloft to shake the reefs out, and readily they went, without a moment’s hesitation. They were, however, quickly recalled--a few moments sufficing to show that saving lives was all that could be attempted. Each succeeding sea drove the ship’s stern higher than the bow[3] upon the shore, and along shore withal, inside some rocks, which partly deadened the fury of the great south-west swell, that rolls in directly against this part of the coast. That the sea did not break at first upon the hull of the vessel, and drive every thing before it, is accounted for by her position--with the bow to seaward--and by the defence afforded by a large rock near her bow which received the first shock of each wave.
Heavily the ship continued to beat upon the shore, reeling from side to side as seas struck her, yet her masts, though tottering at every shock, did not fall; nor did her strong hull yield to the continual striking, until hours had passed. Then, indeed, the rising of the tanks and contents of the hold showed that her frame had given way, and that the well-built Challenger would never float again. There was scarcely any wind; but the roar of the breakers and the clouds of spray would have almost stupified the crew, had not life been at stake. No land could be discerned till after the moon had risen--no one could even conjecture where the ship had struck, excepting only the master, who thought they must be on the Dormido shoal, off the island of Santa Maria. The purser collected the ship’s papers, and saw them headed up in a water-tight cask: each person endeavoured to secure some valuable:--till daylight came further preparation would have availed nothing.
The captain was asked to cut away the masts; but he refused to let more than the mizen-mast be touched, because their weight, after the first few seas, steadied the ship, as she lay over, and prevented her rolling to seaward with the recoiling waves. When she first struck, he was asked to let go the anchors; another request which he wisely refused, rightly judging that having struck, anchoring could not improve their condition, but might prevent their drifting past the rocks and nearer to the shore; both anchors, however, were kept in readiness, in case the water astern should deepen, which might have happened had they struck upon an isolated shoal, like the Dormido.
Soon after the moon rose, at about two in the morning, land was seen astern of the ship, not far distant. It seemed to be rather extensive, though not high; and as there was no longer any doubt of their having struck upon the mainland, better hopes of saving life relieved the torturing, anxious suspense they had hitherto endured. Daylight shewed them the shore on which they were. Near the ship lay an extensive sandy beach, and beyond it, gradually rising in the interior, a thickly wooded country appeared to reach to distant mountains. The mizen-mast was then used to form part of a raft; the jolly-boat was lowered over the stern; and in her Mr. A. Booth (mate), after a long struggle, reached the shore, with the end of the deep-sea lead-line. Mr. Gordon (midshipman), next tried to land in another boat, to assist in hauling a rope ashore, but the boat was upset, rolled over and over, and Mr. Gordon and one of the men were drowned. The other man was saved. Mr. Gordon was one of the most active and able young men of his age, and very much esteemed by all his shipmates.[4] His fellow-sufferer, John Edwards, was one of the best men in the ship.
A stream of tide or current, setting two or three knots an hour, along the shore, much increased the difficulty of reaching it, or of assisting those who were making the perilous attempt. Meanwhile, each succeeding heave of the sea forced the ship higher upon the sandy beach, and rendered the situation of those on board less critical.
The men who reached the land safely, hauled stouter ropes ashore with a line; rafts were then made; the large boats got overboard; the sick landed, and a party was sent ashore to protect them. A few Indians appeared at a distance, whose approach, with numbers of their countrymen, was a serious evil in prospect.
Before much had been done in landing stores, a great many Indians and some creole natives had assembled. Nearly all came on horseback, and many assisted in hauling the rafts ashore, or helping the people to land. Even the Indian women rode into the furious surf, and with their lassoes helped very materially: some took the boys up behind their saddles, and carried them ashore; others fixed their lassoes to the rafts. Thus instead of molesting the sufferers, these ‘uncivilized barbarians’ exerted themselves much for them. What a lesson to the ‘wreckers’ of some other coasts, whose inhabitants are called civilized!
But notwithstanding these friendly acts, Captain Seymour was too prudent to put confidence in the natives. He remembered the saying, ‘Nunca, nunca fiarse à los Indios;’ and forming a small encampment upon the beach, he barricaded it with spars, boats, casks, and other moveables.[5] There every thing was carried when landed, and put under care of the guard. All this day was anxiously occupied in landing stores and provisions. A small party remained on board; but the rest were on shore, during the night of the 20th.[6] Throughout the following days, some of the officers and all the men who were not on guard ashore, were constantly occupied in bringing provisions, ammunition, and stores from the wreck. Heavy and laborious as this duty proved, it was persevered in until every transportable article of value was removed. Two boat carronades were mounted on shore, which, with small arms and the barricade above mentioned, would have kept off a considerable force of Indians.
On the 21st, Lieutenant Collins and Mr. Lane (assistant-surgeon) set out to go to Concepcion: whence, directly after they arrived, Mr. Rouse set out, with horses and mules, taking such few useful things as he could carry, among which were two small tents, that had belonged to the Beagle, and were lent to Mr. Rouse, when his own house was shaken down by the destructive earthquake of February.
Wherever Mr. Rouse went he carried with him the thorough good-will and high respect of the inhabitants of the province of Concepcion--a feeling inestimably valuable at such a time, and totally different from the mere outward formal civility shown to him as the British consul! This feeling forwarded him on his journey, induced others to assist in earnest, and afterwards enabled him to procure a large supply of fresh provisions for the shipwrecked crew.
From Concepcion Lieutenant Collins went to Talcahuano, to hire a vessel. Only one fit for such a purpose was in the port, the Carmen, an American schooner, but her owner asked a price so utterly unreasonable, that the Lieutenant refused to engage with him, and returned to the wreck.
After Lieutenant Collins was despatched to Concepcion, Captain Seymour and the master went to examine the mouth of the river Leübu, about eighteen miles to the N.N.W. of Point Molguilla, where the ship struck. They found that boats might enter and leave the river with most winds; that there was no bar at the entrance; and that under Tucapel Heights[7] there was a spot very suitable for their encampment, until some means of embarkation should offer. Travelling overland so great a distance as to Concepcion, in such a country, would have been almost impracticable, except as a last resource; for it must have involved the total loss of every thing which they could not carry on their backs, and rendered useless the many days hard labour, in a raging surf, by which so much had been landed. It was therefore resolved, that as soon as all valuable stores which could be removed were landed, measures should be taken for shifting their camp to the Leübu.[8]
When the consul arrived his advice strengthened the opinion of Captain Seymour, and their immediate removal was decided upon. Though the Indians as yet had been inoffensive, Mr. Rouse had heard as he came of a large body who were approaching from the interior, and whose intentions he suspected to be hostile. The tribe then about Molguilla was that of an Indian cacique, in alliance with the Chilians, and therefore inclined to be civil, while the plunder was not very tempting, and while all the party were well armed and on the alert.
A few days after the ship was wrecked, this cacique gave a fine young heifer to Captain Seymour, who thanked him for his present, and expressed regret that any thing he could offer in return must be very trifling; when he was startled by a violent exclamation from the chieftain, who indignantly refused to accept any thing from men in distress. He would not take the paring of a nail from them, (biting his thumb-nail angrily as he spoke).
By Mr. Rouse’s exertions and assistance, as interpreter and adviser, several yoke of oxen were procured, as well as many horses, mules, and donkeys; but even with such unhoped-for help, the removal of the heavy stores which had been saved was a tedious and difficult undertaking. Once established, however, at Leübu, they felt comparatively secure: tents were made out of sails; a palisade was fixed and a ditch dug: but the guns, spars, anchors, cables, and large boats, were left on the beach, as they were too heavy for removal overland; and to transport them by sea, from such an exposed coast, was out of the question.
Leaving their good ship a wreck upon the shore, in the hands of those who would soon destroy her, to get at the copper and iron, was to all a melancholy sensation. But the feelings of her captain at that moment--how little those who obeyed orders had to feel, compared with him who gave them!
On the 8th of June the wreck was abandoned: and the whole party were encamped at Leübu. Time passed away but no tidings of assistance arrived. Sickness began its insidious attacks: for cold wet weather had succeeded to a duration of fine dry days unusual at that time of year. Some of their essential articles of provision were exhausted: inactivity and uncertainty were depressing the minds of all, and Captain Seymour had begun to concert measures for abandoning the ships’ stores, which had been so painfully saved, and travelling overland to Concepcion, when the letters from Commodore Mason were given to him. It ought not to be forgotten that Mr. Rouse decided to remain with Captain Seymour, and share his fate, whatever plan he might adopt.
Among evils of magnitude trifling vexations are little noticed; an absolute plague of mice caused amusing occupation, rather than annoyance. The ground, the tents, their beds, everything and every place was infested by mice: nothing was safe from their teeth; provisions were hung up, and people were obliged to watch them. Hundreds were killed every hour, for they literally swarmed over all that part of the country, and curiously enough the old people attributed their appearance to the earthquake! Besides these mice, which had feet like those of a lizard, enabling them to climb in all directions, even along the smallest line or branch of a tree, there were animals that they called rats, about the encampment at Leübu, which deserve mention, not on account of their numbers (as there were comparatively few) but because they were formed like opossums, having a pouch to contain their young for some time after birth.
Early the next morning (24th) I went up with Captain Seymour to the heights of Tucapel, which overlook the river and command an extensive view of the sea. Flag-staffs had been erected there, and large piles of wood collected, in order that flags might be kept flying by day, and fires burning at night. The little camp below presented a regular and very respectable appearance: fourteen or fifteen tents, pitched in regular order, and surrounded by a palisade with a ditch, would have caused even a large body of Indians to hesitate before they attacked it. I was much struck by the strength of the position, and the ease with which it might be defended by a small force against numbers, and still maintain communication with the sea. There was formerly a small settlement there, called a town, though in truth only a very small village: but latterly, the river Leübu has scarcely been noticed, except as the last retreat of the pirate Benavides. Nevertheless it is a situation admirably adapted for a commercial as well as agricultural settlement.
Though bread and other things were deficient, the shipwrecked party never knew the want of water, and they had always an abundant supply of a very fine kind of potato, which perhaps is hardly to be surpassed in size or quality by any in the world. Not one of the officers of the Challenger had seen its equal, and I never recollect eating any that were so good, and at the same time so large.[9] Neither beef nor mutton were scarce, in consequence of the ‘credit’ obtained by Mr. Rouse. Money was soon exhausted, but the high character of the consul was known all over the country, and the natives trusted implicitly to his word.
The report of a ‘wreck’ had quickly drawn numerous plunderers, even from Concepcion and Talcahuano: but those pilferers satisfied themselves secretly, I believe, without attempting any daring robbery. During the confusion of the first day no doubt much was stolen by Indians, and hidden in the neighbourhood: since many articles were sold to the Talcahuano people for spirits or tobacco, and being taken by them to that place, occasioned a report of the officers and crew having been stripped and plundered.
But it must not be supposed that Captain Seymour and his officers had no internal troubles, and that strangers were their only foes. Shameful acts of robbery were committed by some of the Challenger’s own party: a very few of her marines scrupling not to rifle chests and boxes belonging to officers. This conduct, in connexion with a spirit of insubordination which began to show itself, among some of those who knew Captain Seymour the least, occasioned his calling the crew together on the beach, and causing one man to be corporally punished.
On this trying occasion Captain Seymour animadverted on the thoughtless conduct of a few who talked of what ought to be done, as if they were on equal terms with those whose authority at such a time was more than ever necessary; and who, in their unguarded conversations, heeded not who was listening, or which of their inferiors might be influenced by their opinions. He reminded them of the treacherous and often hostile disposition of those Indians who then surrounded them, and were daily increasing in numbers; and made known not only his own determination to stay by the stores, at all hazards, but that those who attempted to desert should do so at the peril of their lives. He well knew that the majority (and that majority included all the worthiest and best) would stand by him to the last, and think little of difficulties or dangers incurred in doing their duty.
After this well-timed public admonition not a word more was heard about “abandoning the stores, and making the best of the way to Concepcion.” Neither was there again occasion to inflict punishment. This one act of necessary justice, executed so properly and decidedly, was probably the means of saving much property, of upholding character, and even of preserving many lives: for when once anarchy begins, who can foretel all its consequences?
Anxious to return as soon as possible to tell the Commodore how easily the Blonde might take off both people and stores, at the mouth of the Leübu, that he might lose no time in effecting the embarkation--I recrossed the river and was galloping towards Quiapo, before noon (on the 24th) hoping to reach Arauco ere midnight; and, certain of fresh horses, I and my two companions spared neither whip nor spur. Our guide dropped behind, but as we could find the path by our tracks of the previous day, we did not wait for him. Such ravines (quebradas) as we passed: how we got through them during the black darkness of the preceding night astonished me, for we could hardly scramble along in broad daylight: and had I known the nature of those passes, I certainly should not have tried to get through, excepting by day.
At Quiapo we had a mixture of corn and water, which I thought tolerably good. It is a common mess among the lower class of natives in many countries besides Chile.[10] A few handfuls of roasted corn, roughly pounded between two stones, were put into a cow’s horn, half full of cold water, and well stirred about with a stick until changed into a substantial mess of cold porridge. Our haste shortened the journey, and we should have reached Arauco in good time, had not a second guide (the man who waited at Quiapo with the Arauco horses) mistaken the road, and taken us along a track which was crossed by two rivers, not then fordable. His error was not discovered until too late, and to pass the rivers we were obliged to make a delay of several hours. The tract of country we traversed this day, was as fine as any that I have attempted to describe. I do not think we rode over or even saw an acre of unproductive land. The woody districts were very pleasing to the eye, and as specimens of a rich and fertile country almost in a state of nature, equally so to the mind. In many places our road lay through an open forest, where fine trees stood at considerable distances apart, and not being surrounded by underwood allowed us to gallop between them as we pleased. I thought of England’s forests in the ‘olden time.’
In one of the quiet woodland glades we passed through, some of the finest cattle I ever saw were grazing. One immense animal would have attracted admiration, even by the side of show-cattle in England. Very large, well-shaped, and extremely fat, he looked and moved as if few things had ever caused him to turn against his will. These cattle have owners, I was told, but are seldom molested: once perhaps in some years a large number may be killed for the sake of their hides and tallow; and even then so extensive and so little known are these woods, that a considerable proportion of the cattle are not seen by their indolent destroyers, nor yet at the almost nominal musters which take place annually. The soil being usually of a tenacious, clayey nature, and streams of water numerous, moisture sufficient for vegetation is ensured, even at the dryest periods. Indeed, these countries never have suffered from drought; their climate being a happy mean between the dry, parching heat of Northern Chile, or Peru, and the continual wet, wind, and chilliness of Chilóe.
The first river we had to cross was not more than fifty feet wide, but the banks were hollow and rotten. Our guide looked along the stream till he found a tree which had fallen across, so as to form a bridge over two-thirds of the width: and with a pole in his hand, he climbed as far as the boughs would bear him: then finding that the water beneath was not above his middle, he waded through the remainder. Unsaddling, we sent all the gear across by help of the tree and lassoes, and turned the horses over, much against their will, for they had to plunge in and scramble out.
Again using our spurs, we hoped to pass the second river also before dark, but in vain; there was only just daylight enough left to see that it had overflowed its banks, and seemed to be wide and rapid. Even Vogelborg thought it impossible to cross before the next morning, so we turned back to look for some hut in which we might obtain shelter from heavy rain, which was beginning to pour down. The night was very dark and our prospect rather comfortless, when we were fortunate enough to find a ‘rancho,’ and there we gladly took refuge. Its owners were absent at a merry-making in the ‘neighbourhood’ (about twenty miles off!); their daughters, however, and an Indian captive (from Boroa) were not deficient in hospitality. Poor girls! they were rather frightened at first, at their house being so suddenly occupied, but our guide quieted their alarm. As soon as the horses were provided for, we looked about for food for ourselves, and could find nothing but potatoes, till, hearing Vogelborg call for help in his broken English, I ran to him thinking he was hurt or attacked. He was struggling with a sheep which he had caught, and was dragging to the hut. Greatly were the poor girls alarmed when they saw that the sheep was to be sacrificed; they exclaimed that their father would beat them terribly, that the sheep was worth eight rials![11] A dollar for the sheep, and another for each of themselves, altered their tone; and before long we had such a fire and supper as the old ‘rancho’ had not witnessed since the wedding-day of its owners.
But what a night of penance we passed--the place swarmed with fleas, not one moment could I rest, though very tired; and it was raining too hard, and was too cold to sleep outside in the open air. These insects are the torment of travellers in Chile. The natives appear either not to feel, or not to be attacked by them, but an unlucky stranger who ventures to sleep within the walls of an inferior kind of house, or even any country house, in Chile, is sure to be their victim. When I stripped to bathe the next day, I found myself so covered, from head to foot, with flea-bites, that I seemed to have a violent rash, or the scarlet fever.
As the day broke (on the 25th) we mounted our horses, eager to get away from such unceasing tormentors: and the Indian girl undertook to show us a place where we might pass the river, even flooded as it was. By the help of fallen trees, lassoes, and poles, we conveyed ourselves and the saddles across; but to get the horses over was very difficult. The stream being rather wide and rapid, and the banks steep and rotten, occasioned so much difficulty, that two whole hours were spent in getting the animals across and out of the river. Our united strength applied to good lassoes, was barely sufficient to help the struggling and frightened creatures up the muddy broken banks. When one had passed, the others followed in their turns more readily; but I thought we should have lost one of them. From this river to Arauco was not above an hour’s ride, at the pace we went, though it is called seven leagues.
During the last two days I had seen several Indians of pure Araucanian blood, in their native dress, and was much struck by the precise similarity of that worn by the women, to the dress of the aborigines of Peru, as described and figured in Frazier’s voyage. The square cloak, or mantle, thrown over the shoulders, and fastened in front by a pin with a very large flat head, the size of a dollar, or even the palm of a hand; the broad band round the waist ornamented with beads; and the beaded or brass ornaments in the hair, ears, and round the neck, caught my eye sooner than their features, which are so similar to those of the almost Indian breed who live on the borders, that at first sight the difference was hardly noticed. Perhaps the eye of one of those Indians who has never lived with civilized people, is the only feature which differs strikingly: so much have the lower classes of Chilian creoles mixed with the aborigines. In the eye of a free, wandering Indian, there is a restless suspiciousness, which reminds one of the eye of a wild animal: but this peculiar expression is soon removed by civilization.
The clothing of the Araucanians, made by themselves, is very strong good cloth. Indian ponchoes will keep out rain longer than any others. Dark blue is the usual colour of their clothes, from ponchoes to petticoats; and they are all of woollen manufacture.
The women dress their hair with some pains, and ornament it with beads, bits of brass, or large-headed pins, such as those I have described. Some few have ornaments of gold: and to see an Indian woman dressed in her national costume, with large golden ornaments, quite transports the imagination to the days of Cortes and Pizarro. I saw but one so ornamented, a fine-looking young woman, the daughter of a cacique, who had accompanied some of her tribe to look at the shipwrecked white men. Her horse was a beautiful animal, looking as wild as herself.
At Arauco the worthy colonel welcomed me to breakfast, but regretted that I had been prevented from proceeding to the wreck: he thought some accident had happened, and hardly could believe that we had actually passed a night at the Leübu. D. Geronimo told me he had received intelligence of a large body of Indians, about three thousand strong, who were marching northward against Colipi, and his allies, the Chilians. He thought it probable that they would molest the Challenger’s people, for the sake of plunder as well as because they had been on friendly terms with Colipi.
This hostile tribe, whose visit he was anticipating, was that called ‘Boroanos,’ by the Chilians (‘Boroa-che,’ by the Indians). I have before said that in Boroa there are fair Indians; and that I saw, when at Valdivia, one of the natives of that district. The Indian girl, whom I mentioned just now as a captive, agreed exactly in what she stated of them, with the account I had previously heard. She and the ‘Boroana’ at Valdivia both said, that “their fathers had told them that the ‘rubios’ (meaning red and white, or red-haired people) were children of the women whom their ancestors took prisoners when they destroyed the seven cities.” Many of these ‘rubios’ had blue eyes, with rather fair complexions; and some few had red hair. If this is the true story, they must be gradually losing such striking peculiarities; and the assertion made a century ago that there were white Indians in Araucania, might well be thought erroneous now. Both of the ‘Boroanos’ whom I saw had dark blue or grey eyes, and a lighter complexion than other Indians; but their features were similar to those of their countrywomen, and they had long black hair.
In our way to Arauco this morning, we passed by Tubul, a place admirably adapted for a large town, but now occupied only by a few poor families living in huts. Hills surround a fine plain, through which the river Tubul winds to the sea: lying in that river, I saw the remains of a whaler (the Hersilia) captured by Benavides, when at anchor near the island of Santa Maria.[12] She was brought into the Tubul, plundered, and partly burned.
Some years ago, ships of two hundred tons could enter the mouth of this river, and pass up nearly a mile; but the late earthquake had raised the land so much, that only very small vessels could enter at this time. May not changes of relative level, similar to this, have occurred at the rivers Cauten, Tolten, and Bueno? The Cauten, or Imperial, is spoken of by the earlier writers on Chile, as admitting ships of burthen; but now the entrance of each of those rivers is almost closed by a bar.
In opposition to this idea it may be urged, that where a large river runs into the sea exactly against the direction of the prevailing wind and swell, a bar of sand, shingle, and mud must be formed by deposition from the opposing waters; and that it is only where a river runs uninterruptedly into the sea, protected from wind and swell by a projecting islet or point of land, that a perfectly clear entrance may be expected; and, therefore, that the Spanish accounts must have been incorrect. I suspect that they described those rivers as they found them at some distance inland, not at the mouth.
Leaving the hospitable colonel assembling a remarkably awkward squad, whom he was anxiously preparing for the threatened attack of the ‘Boroanos,’ we rode away upon the good horses which, three days previously, had brought us from Concepcion.
At the Carampangue there was no balsa. What was to be done? To wait until some one brought a boat from the opposite shore might expend the day; but the river was wide and deep, and the weather too cold for so long a swim: nevertheless, five dollars excited our guide, or rather horse-keeper, to make the trial, and during several minutes I thought he must have been drowned: for, instead of slipping off the horse, and holding by the mane or tail when he began to swim, the man sat bolt upright, so that the poor horse’s head was scarcely visible; and both horse and man appeared to get confused, turning round in the stream two or three times, while the current was carrying them down the river. At last they struggled out, to my infinite joy, and galloped off in search of the men whose business it was to attend at the ferry with a balsa. While we were anxiously waiting, a large party appeared on the opposite bank, with whom were the balsa-men. They had been merry-making, the previous day having been the feast of St. John; and as they had hardly recovered from the effects of ‘chicha,’ and other favourite libations, to carry so large a number across upon a small raft, was a difficult undertaking. Talking at the pitch of their voices, laughing and tumbling about, their reaching the opposite shore without a cold-bath, was attributed by Vogelborg to the protection of the saint whose anniversary they had so dutifully celebrated. The ‘chicha,’[13] is sometimes fermented, and then soon affects a person’s head, if drank to excess: but these votaries of St. John had doubtless improved its insipid taste by aguardiente. During the chicha season, or autumn, the Indians are said to be more dangerous than at other times, as they indulge in this, their favourite beverage, to excess.
Apple trees are now abundant in southern Chile, throughout the Indian as well as Spanish territories. They were also plentiful on the eastern side of the Andes, particularly about the river Negro and the great lake ‘Nahuelhuapi,’ in the middle of the last century. Whether they are indigenous, or were planted by the early missionaries, has been much disputed in that country; but as the Indian name for them is ‘manchana,’[14] I should incline to think they were introduced by the first missionaries.
Our road over the heights of Villagran was much worse than at our former passage. Heavy rain and constant traffic, in consequence of the wreck, had worn it into a curious succession of steps: and each animal endeavouring to place his feet in the holes made by those which had previously passed--the rain having filled up the hollows with mud and water--had worked the clayey track into a continuation of transverse ridges and trenches. A man might step from ridge to ridge without wetting his feet; but the horses always planted their legs, up to the knees and hocks, in the mud and water of the trenches. Their motion was just as if they were stepping over logs of timber: unpleasant enough for the rider, and extremely tiring to themselves. We helped them however as much as possible, to the surprise of our lazy guide, by dismounting and leading them up the hills as well as down.
We reached ‘Playa Blanca’ as it got dusk. The heights near Point Coronel were difficult, in the dark, but we passed without worse disaster than a roll in the mud, from my girths breaking while struggling in a slough. Along the level lands of Don Juan de Dios Rivera we galloped briskly, until we were completely bewildered in the darkness. At last we found ourselves among enclosures, and by pulling up rails and breaking fences, made our way to a farm-house, where such information was obtained as enabled us to reach San Pedro, on the south bank of the Bio Bio, soon after midnight. No inducement could prevail upon the owner of the ferry-boat to let her take us across before daylight, so we sat down by a fire, after feeding our excellent horses, and dozed till daybreak.
With the first dawn we drove the lazy boatmen to their barge, urging them alternately with money, entreaties, reproaches, and threats. The river was exceedingly swollen by late heavy rains, so that it was almost twice as wide, and quite as rapid, as usual. Our heavy ferry-boat was ‘tracked’ up it until it seemed possible for us to reach the other bank before the current swept us out to sea; but the appearance of the boat and men, and the utter uncertainty caused by a very thick fog, gave me no great hopes of reaching Concepcion in any reasonable time, though a vivid expectation of passing a few hours upon a sand-bank at the mouth of the river, if we escaped being hurried into the open sea. In this clumsily-built, flat-bottomed boat (a sort of large punt) were five horses, a troublesome young bull, six men, and three nominal boatmen, one of whom merely attempted to steer. With very long poles our unwieldy craft was pushed into the stream, and while the shore could be distinguished through the fog, made progress in a proper direction, though most crab-like was the movement. When fairly out of sight of land, the boatmen became alarmed and puzzled; but just then a large bell was heard tolling at Concepcion, which served to animate them, and to ensure our trying to go in the right direction. After an hour’s unpleasant work, in a very cold morning, we landed about a mile below Concepcion, having started about as much above it on the opposite side. No time was then lost in galloping to Talcahuano, and going on board the Blonde, so that Captain Seymour’s letter was delivered to Commodore Mason soon after ten.
I found that the commodore had engaged an American schooner[15] to go in search of the crew of the Challenger; and that Mr. Usborne had been sent in her, with the second master of the Blonde,[16] three seamen of that ship, my coxswain, and the whale-boat which I took from the Beagle; she was a poor craft, and wretchedly found, though reputed to have sailed well, and to have been a fine vessel in her time. They left Talcahuano on the day after a gale from the north-west (on the 24th), which, by all accounts, was one of the severest that had been experienced during many years.
The Blonde sailed from Concepcion Bay on the 27th, the morning after I arrived; but unfortunately, during all that day, thick weather and half a gale of wind from the northward, prevented our having even one glimpse of the land, as we were running towards the entrance of the Leübu.
On the 28th, thick weather kept us in the offing. On the 29th, at daylight, the schooner Carmen was seen, and soon afterwards, through the haze, we made out Tucapel Head. At this time, neither Vogelborg (who was on board as local pilot) nor I, knew that the Heights of Tucapel Viejo were identical with the headland we recognized by the name of Tucapel Head. We both thought that Tucapel Viejo was in the bay where the river ‘Lebo’ is placed in the old Spanish charts. This error appears almost unaccountable to me now; though both he and I were then drawn into it by a variety of reasons unnecessary to detail here, and we therefore advised the commodore to run along-shore towards the supposed place of the Leübu (or Lebo), which he did; but the weather was so unfavourable, so thick and hazy, that nothing could be seen distinctly. Scarcely indeed could we discern the line of the surf, heavily as it was beating upon the shore; and at noon we were obliged to haul off, on account of wind and rain.
I should have mentioned that we spoke the schooner at eight in the morning, when Mr. Usborne said they had seen nothing in their run along-shore on the 26th, the only clear day they had had. After speaking us, he kept to the northward, intending, as we concluded, to close the land about Tucapel Head, and again run along-shore to the southward. In the haze we quickly lost sight of the schooner; but thinking that we should soon meet again in clearer weather, little notice was taken of this circumstance, which was afterwards so much regretted. Continual thick weather prevented any observations being taken, as well as the land from being seen, until the 2d of July, when Tucapel Head was indistinctly made out in the distance. But strong wind and a high swell were reasons sufficient to keep the Blonde far in the offing, while thick hazy weather lasted; and after making the land we actually stood to sea again, without even attempting to show the ship to the poor fellows on shore. In the course of this night a few stars were seen; and their altitudes were the only observations that could have been obtained at any moment since we left Concepcion Bay, during six days of constantly clouded and hazy weather, in which neither sun, moon, nor stars, nor even the horizon could be seen!
On the 3d, Tucapel Head was again made out indistinctly; but nothing was done, a wide offing being still preserved.
On the 4th, the weather had improved enough to allow of a partial view of the coast between the supposed place of the Leübu and Cape Tirua; but no signal-fire, nor any thing like a flag, could be perceived on any of the heights.
Land appears so different when viewed from an offing at sea and when seen closely, especially from the land side, that it is less surprising that Vogelborg, who had visited the Leübu dozens of times by land, and also by sea in a boat, should be as much at a loss as myself to recognise the height which we had both ascended with Captain Seymour.
How it happened that I, who had surveyed this coast, should be ignorant of the real place of the Leübu, as I then certainly was, is another affair entirely, and one which I feel bound to explain. A momentary reference to my instructions shows that the Beagle was only expected to “correct the outline, and to fix the positions of all the salient points”[17] of the coast between Chilóe and Topocalma (near Valparaiso); and the Beagle’s charts of that coast prove that a great deal more was accomplished than was thought practicable when those instructions were framed.
Between Cape Tirua opposite Mocha, and Tucapel Head, the shore was laid down on our chart as determined by triangulation connected with the ship under sail, her distance from the land varying from one mile to five miles; and as no river was seen thereabouts, nor any break in the coast-line where a river’s mouth could be, our chart contained merely a note, saying, “River Lebo, according to the Spanish chart.” Now, the erroneous place of this Lebo (meant for Leübu) was twenty miles south of the real position, which, shut in behind Tucapel Head, could never have been seen from any vessel sailing past, however near the shore she might have been. The coast-line in the Beagle’s chart was proved to be perfectly correct; but the place of the Leübu, which could only have been obtained by landing, or having a local pilot on board, was not known; and not being a navigable river, I did not deem it of sufficient consequence to be worth our delaying on an exposed coast, without an anchorage or a landing-place--so far as I then knew--while it was sought for.
Considering the multiplicity of places the Beagle had to visit subsequently, I often found it necessary to sacrifice such details as seemed to me of least consequence. Every seaman knows how very difficult it is to make out the openings of some small rivers, while he is sailing along a coast little known, and all marine surveyors know that there is seldom any way of making sure of such openings without landing; or entering them in a boat. I do not say this to excuse neglect--not feeling culpable--but simply to explain how the case stood.
On each day, when near the land, guns were fired at intervals, and sometimes three or four were fired at once; blue lights also were occasionally burned during the nights, in hopes that the schooner might see them.
On the 5th of July, the day broke clearly for the first time during the longest week I ever passed, and we saw the land distinctly, from Cape Rumena to Tirua, with Mocha Island, strange to say, for the first time--near it as we had often been. Now that the tops of the hills were quite free from fog or cloud, I recognised the Heights of Tucapel at the first glance; and after looking for some minutes at their summits, through a good glass, I distinctly saw smoke rising. Standing towards them--in half an hour flags were discerned on the heights, and there was no longer any doubt; yet no steps were taken until near one o’clock, though it was a beautiful, and almost calm day. From nine in the morning until one, the Blonde lay almost becalmed, about five miles from the land. At one, three boats were sent to the mouth of the Leübu, with some money and a small supply of bread; but a current setting along the shore from the northward delayed their reaching the entrance of the river until evening.
We found the greater part of the Challenger’s crew still in health; but delay and bad weather had increased the sick-list, and two of her party (the assistant-surgeon and a young midshipman) were in danger: waiting so long in uncertainty, and without employment, in a wet, dirty place, had tried all their constitutions severely. It was too late to attempt going out into the offing after the Blonde, (which was standing to sea) with the gig and cutter, two indifferent boats; so manning the barge with a double crew, one crew being men of the Challenger, and taking one of her officers (Lieutenant Collins) with me, I hastened out of the river as the sun was setting. A light breeze from the land favoured us, and though the Blonde was hull down in the south-west when we started, we were happy enough to get on board at about eight o’clock.
In going off to the ship after it became dark, we kept the end of a piece of old gun-breeching burning, held up in the bow of the boat. The light, as strong almost as that of a false fire, was seen plainly on board the ship, and then she was hove-to. As soon as the barge was hoisted in, the frigate again made sail off shore; but a fortunate mistake caused the main-yard to be squared about midnight, and at daybreak next morning we were in a good position off the entrance of the river. The Blonde then steered towards the land, and at nine anchored near the River Leübu, about a mile from Tucapel Head. Every boat was hoisted out, and the work of embarkation proceeded rapidly. Though a swell made the ship roll heavily, and delayed the boats alongside, the weather was so fine and a south-east wind so favourable, that the quickness of going and returning made amends for some delay in discharging each cargo. At six in the evening, Captain Seymour came on board with the last party of his crew, and at eight, the Blonde weighed and made sail, before a fresh and favourable breeze.
Most of the tents remained standing, being of very little value, and some of the stores were left. For what was abandoned, both there and at Molguilla, the commodore appointed Vogelborg to be agent, leaving him on the spot to take charge: and he wisely asked one of the Chilians who lived in the neighbourhood, and had generally supplied the shipwrecked crew with provisions, to join him in his undertaking. Between them they might have recovered many things of value to individuals, but, to the British Government, nothing worth the great expense of carriage to Concepcion.
Mr. Rouse sent his servants back by land, with his horses and mules, and accompanied his esteemed friend, Captain Seymour, in the Blonde. The numerous Indians and others whom we left gathering round the encampment, in all probability saved Vogelborg and his partner the trouble of taking care of much of the property. They reminded me of the vultures which in those countries gather round the places where men are slaughtering cattle.
During the night of the 6th, the Blonde passed rapidly northward, running before a fresh southerly breeze; and at eleven in the morning of the 7th, she was off Point Tumbes, when seeing a dismasted vessel, with an English blue ensign hoisted, about five miles to the northward of us, the frigate stood towards her, and finding that she was the schooner Carmen, closed and took her in tow. But for the Blonde’s opportune arrival, she would have been drifted to the northward, and obliged to run into any port she could reach. Mr. Usborne came on board, and as soon as he had refreshed himself by a few hours’ sleep, gave me the following account of his proceedings and accidents.
After leaving Talcahuano, wind and weather favoured the Carmen until she had run along the coast from Tucapel Head to Cape Tirua, at about a mile from the surf, without seeing either smoke, flags, people, or wreck; but, during one night, a fire was seen on Tucapel Head. When Mr. Usborne spoke the Blonde, on the morning of the 29th, the schooner was on her way to the place where she had seen the fire; and he would have said so when the Blonde hailed him had he had time, but as she passed on without stopping, and he felt sure that the Challenger’s people were not in the direction which she was taking, he kept a different course. At about two in the afternoon of that day, while four seamen were aloft on the topsail-yard, furling the topsail, the schooner gave a sudden plunge into a high swell, and away went the foremast head, fore-topmast, and topsail-yard. The four men were carried overboard, but saved; though one (James Bennett) was severely bruised. The main-mast followed, being dragged downwards and broken by the rigging attached to the head of the foremast; and in this state, a mere wreck, the Carmen drifted towards Mocha. So wretchedly was the vessel provided in every way, that the only tools which they had to cut the laniards of the rigging with, were knives and a cooper’s old adze.
After clearing the wreck, they got up a small spar abaft, on which was set the Beagle’s boat’s sail; and by means of cleats,[18] Bennett and J. Nutcher (boatswain’s mate of the Blonde), got to the head of the stump of the foremast, although, being loose in the step, it swayed to and fro as if it would go overboard, and fixed temporary rigging. A staysail and trysail were then set, and just saved her from going ashore upon the weather side of Mocha, while it was blowing hard, with a high sea running; and in all probability, not one person would have been saved had she struck. If Mr. Usborne had not known this land well, from his late survey, it is not likely that they would have escaped, because when they found themselves about half a mile from the breakers, the tack which appeared to the others to be by far the best, was in truth the worst: had they gone on that tack, nothing could have saved them. Mr. Usborne saw their position exactly, and knowing how the current would affect them, determined upon what they thought the wrong tack, and rescued them. I say that Mr. Usborne did this; because Mr. Biddlecombe was sick, and the master of the vessel reluctantly yielded to the person who he saw was at home, while he himself was utterly bewildered.
After this narrow escape, the schooner was drifted to the southward, as far as the latitude of Valdivia, before the southerly wind, which took the Blonde to the mouth of the Leübu, drove the Carmen back slowly to the northward. Mr. Usborne and his companions had almost entered the opening of the Bay of Concepcion early in the morning of the day on which the Blonde took them in tow, but had been drifted away again by a fresh wind, and were falling to leeward fast, for want of sail, when the Blonde arrived. Mr. Usborne recovered from his fatigue in two or three days, but Bennett was ill for a fortnight.
During the few days they were away, they suffered much. As for the ten men belonging to the vessel, they were utterly useless, being frightened or sick during the whole time; so that but for the exertion of the Blonde’s seamen, of Bennett, of the master of the vessel (Mr. Thayer), of Mr. Biddlecombe, and above all, Mr. Usborne, the Carmen might have left her remains on the shore, when perhaps few, if any, would have survived to tell the fatal tale.[19]
The Blonde worked to windward, with the schooner in tow, during the remainder of the day and early part of the night, and at midnight they both anchored off Talcahuano.
Until the 10th, it was necessary to remain at anchor, as there were accounts to settle between the commodore, the consul, the pursers, the officers, and the owner of the schooner; there were visits to the Authorities, to thank them for their assistance, and, as usual on board men-of-war, there was much to do in very little time. To Don José Alemparte, the yntendente of the province; to Colonel Boza, the principal military authority; to D. Miguel Bayon, the governor of Talcahuano; and to Don Pablo Delano, captain of the port, sincere thanks were really due for their earnest exertions. Mr. Rouse took his leave of us on the 10th, and we then sailed.
While the Blonde was lying off Talcahuano, I had a few opportunities of looking about, and seeing that both Concepcion and Talcahuano were rising out of their ruins, and that their unfortunate inhabitants had, at least, roofs over their heads. Concepcion was, and is still nominally, a city: but it will be long before it again appears as such to the eye of a stranger. Some idea may be formed of the low scale to which every thing was there reduced, when I mention that it was very difficult to find a carriage of any kind in which the Commodore could go to visit the Yntendente.
Great discussions had arisen on the subject of rebuilding the city. The government party wished to remove the site to a better position; but there was so strong an opposition, that the result was likely to be the gradual rebuilding of the town in the same place, while the removal was still undecided, and under consideration. Two situations were named as much more eligible than the former: one on the banks of the little river Andalien, about a mile from the old city; and the other, on a rising ground about two miles on the Talcahuano side of Concepcion. This latter position has many and great advantages, as all acknowledged; but people were reluctant to move; each one had or fancied an advantage in the old situation of his house, encumbered as it was with ruins. Besides, many more serious difficulties would arise in leaving small freeholds, and obtaining equivalents in another place: however, an active government might have accomplished so desirable a change without injuring anyone, by purchasing the ground, and distributing it so fairly that each man should gain rather than lose. The sum necessary for purchasing ground for a new city, would not have been greater than might have been borrowed; and repaid in ten years out of the custom-house.
Perhaps there is not a situation in the world much more advantageous to the prosperity of a commercial city than this of which we are speaking. Centrally placed between the great and navigable river Bio Bio, the port of San Vicente, the noble bay of Concepcion, and an easy communication by land with the best part of Chile, a part which may well be called one of the finest countries in the world:--with a large extent of level and fertile land on all sides--with the means of obtaining water by sinking wells to a small depth, as well as by an aqueduct from the Bio Bio--and with the blessing of an unexceptionable climate--how could the New Concepcion fail to thrive, and increase rapidly? It might be shaken down and destroyed by an earthquake as soon as built, may be said. Probably, may be replied, if the inhabitants should be so unwise as to build houses of brick and stone, one or two stories in height, and with heavily tiled roofs. But let them try another mode of building. Wood is abundant, and let them make that the only material of which either walls or roofs shall be composed. A strong frame-work, similar in some measure to that of a ship, lightly covered or ceiled with thin planks, and roofed with shingles,[20] would, if placed on the ground and not let into it as foundations usually are, withstand the convulsions of any earthquake which has yet happened in that tormented country. Why do not the Chilians pay more attention to the remark of the aborigines of Peru, who, when they saw the Spaniards digging deep foundations for their buildings, said, “You are building your own sepulchres?”[21]
The houses of the natives of Peru were in those days built without foundations, simply upon the levelled ground; and they withstood the severest shocks. No house should extend far upwards. Nothing should be above the ground floor but a light strongly-secured wooden roof: and they should be placed upon firm ground--if possible, upon rock. The principal objections against the present site of Concepcion are--that the earth upon which the houses stand is every where loose, and sandy, and that it is too near the river.
One day, while visiting a gentleman at Talcahuano, he called three little Araucanian boys into the room where Mr. Rouse and I were sitting with him, and desired them to harangue or make speeches to one another in their own way. The little fellows stepped forward boldly, and one of them spoke to the other two in a very fluent and expressive manner; but ended every marked sentence, or portion of his subject, by the singular sharp rise of the voice which has so often been noticed as a peculiarity in the oratory of Indians in this country. Another boy replied in a similar manner; and then they began to fight with their fists. This part of the display of course we stopped; but we were much interested by the composure and readiness with which the little boys spoke. One of the speakers was son of a cacique. All three had been obtained by actual (though secret) purchase from their countrymen, through the intervention of one of the ‘Capitanes de los Amigos,’[22] one of whose offices is to take the part of and protect the natives. Perhaps, in the first instance, these boys had been stolen or taken prisoners, and were not the children of those who sold them to the ‘captain of the friends.’ In the family of Don ---- those boys found a comfortable and a happy home; he had taken them from the rascally ‘capitan de los amigos’ as an act of charity, and intended to give them employment and land on his estate. I thought of Lautaro, as I noticed the bright eye of the little cacique.
When I took leave of the Yntendente, he said that he was about to make a journey to the frontier, for the sake of inspecting the outposts and securing the assistance of the friendly Indians: and this, I afterwards understood, was in consequence of the rumoured approach of those hostile tribes of whom Colonel Valenzuela had spoken to me at Arauco.
We sailed from Talcahuano with a fair wind, which carried us quickly and pleasantly along-shore; but crowded, and anxious as we were, the ship could not go fast enough for us. The sick people, excepting Mr. Lane, were improving when we reached Valparaiso on the 13th. Much attention and kindness were shown to Captain Seymour by his acquaintance at Valparaiso; but it could not be expected that he should be cheerful, or inclined to see people, excepting intimate friends, at that time; particularly as the death of Mr. Lane was an additional blow much felt by him. I was very glad when we weighed anchor, on the 17th, for every hour caused an increase of painful feeling.
A fresh fair wind drove us in twenty-four hours to Coquimbo, where the Conway was at anchor ready for sea. It was then arranged, that all the officers and two-thirds of the crew should go home in the Conway; and, of course, no small bustle of preparation for so many passengers was caused. Captain[23] and Mrs. White already occupied one-half of the captain’s cabin, and their luggage a considerable space below; but as both Captain Eden and the senior lieutenant, Johnstone, were bent upon accommodating the shipwrecked party to the utmost of their power, stowage-room was cleverly contrived.
How striking the contrast appeared between the fertility and verdure of the Concepcion country, and the dry barrenness of the naked earth or rocks about Coquimbo. Scarcely any one went on shore; a mixture of unpleasant feelings occasioned a gloomy heaviness in most of our minds.
On the 22d, both ships sailed from Coquimbo, and soon afterwards parted company. The Conway stood to the westward, ‘close-hauled;’ while the Blonde steered towards the north with a fresh southerly wind.
What caused the loss of the Challenger?--is a question not easy to answer with certainty. The error in her reckoning amounted to more than forty miles; and the only way in which I can account for it to my own satisfaction is, that while the north-west wind was blowing, a current set to the southward and eastward, for which no allowance was made, as those on board could not be aware that such a current might be found, its existence not being known. A south-east current was not to be expected thereabouts; for the general set of the waters is northerly, excepting near the land, and they thought themselves in the offing. But currents are very uncertain and treacherous in most places. Unusual winds, peculiar seasons affecting the weight of the atmosphere, and those powerful interrupters of all order--earthquakes, have immediate effect upon the great ocean, as well as upon small bodies of water, though not always so visibly.
Scarcely four months had elapsed since that tremendous earthquake, which destroyed so many towns in Chile, had altered the movements of the Pacific Ocean upon all the extent of coast which reaches from latitude forty-five to the parallel of twenty-five. Even in July, the land about Concepcion was scarcely considered to be at rest, and recovered, as it was said, from those awful convulsions. Can it then be considered improbable that the currents of that sea should have taken unusual directions, and betrayed even cautious seamen, such as Captain Seymour and Mr. Macdonald (the master) were well known to be. So much care and judgment had always been shown in conducting the Challenger, and she had visited so many places in the Atlantic, in the Pacific, and among the South Sea Islands, that of all the King’s ships at that time in commission, those who sailed in her (unconnected even with her management) thought her one of the last that would end a voyage disastrously.[24] The surprising manner in which the hull of the Challenger held together, and so long resisted heavy shocks, reflects infinite credit upon her architect (Hayes), and upon the dock-yard where she was built.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lines of foam, and intervals of light-coloured water.
[2] When the ship was thus hove violently astern, her rudder, stern-post, dead-wood abaft, gun-room beams, cabin-deck, and many timbers, besides planking, crashed awfully as they broke at once before the resistless power of an ocean swell.
[3] The peculiarity other form--drawing as much water forward as she did abaft--may have been partly the cause of her bow remaining to seaward, which contributed so much to the preservation of lives.
[4] He had anxiously sought to go in the first boat.
[5] The barricade was finished on the 25th.
[6] It was on this day that the Swede saw the unfortunate Challenger.
[7] Immediately over the entrance of the river.
[8] While Captain Seymour was away at the Leübu, the officers availed themselves of the opportunity to get the greater part of his stores and private property, books, &c. landed; for he would not allow any of his own things to be moved, or a man to be employed about them, while an article of the ship’s stores could be saved, though his private property was very valuable.
[9] The officers of the Blonde were of a similar opinion, after trying a great many that were sent on board from the Leübu.
[10] Among the Araucanian aborigines it is made with maize, and called ulpu.
[11] Or a dollar, equal to about four shillings.
[12] Captain Hall’s Journal, vol. i. p. 312-13.
[13] ‘Chicha’ is made with maize, apples, or other things.
[14] Manzana is Spanish for apple.
[15] The Carmen; for which such exorbitant demands had been made in answer to Lieutenant Collins.
[16] Mr. Biddlecombe.
[17] Hydrographer’s Memorandum, p. 31.
[18] To secure these cleats to the mast, they were obliged to draw nails out of the vessel’s beams, having no others.
[19] Mr. Usborne’s narrative of this affair is in the Appendix, No. 27.
[20] Small pieces of wood, like tiles.
[21] Ulloa, vol. i. p. 340.
[22] See page 399.
[23] Then Vice-Consul at Valparaiso.
[24] This I have heard from several persons who were wrecked in the ship, whose opinions I have reason to respect.