Chapter IX…

Chapter IX

Rio Plata--Flocks of butterflies--Beetles alive in the sea--Aeronaut spiders--Pelagic animals--Phosphorescence of sea--Port Desire--Spanish settlements--Zoology--Guanaco--Excursion to head of harbour--Indian grave--Port St. Julian--Geology of Patagonia, successive terraces, transport of pebbles--Fossil gigantic llama--Types of organization constant--Change in zoology of America--Causes of extinction.

PATAGONIA.

DECEMBER 6TH, 1833.--The Beagle sailed from the Rio Plata, never again to enter its muddy stream. Our course was directed to Port Desire, on the coast of Patagonia. Before proceeding any further, I will here put together a few observations made at sea.

Several times when the ship has been some miles off the mouth of the Plata, and at other times when off the shores of Northern Patagonia, we have been surrounded by insects. One evening, when we were about ten miles from the Bay of San Blas, vast numbers of butterflies, in bands or flocks of countless myriads, extended as far as the eye could range. Even by the aid of a glass it was not possible to see a space free from butterflies. The seamen cried out “it was snowing butterflies,” and such in fact was the appearance. More species than one were present, but the main part belonged to a kind very similar to, but not identical with, the common English Colias edusa.[1] Some moths and hymenoptera accompanied the butterflies; and a fine Calosoma flew on board. Other instances are known of this beetle having been caught far out at sea; and this is the more remarkable, as the greater number of the Carabidæ seldom or never take wing. The day had been fine and calm, and the one previous to it equally so, with light and variable airs. Hence we cannot suppose that the insects were blown off the land, but we must conclude that they voluntarily took flight. The great bands of the Colias seem at first to afford an instance like those on record of the migrations of Vanessa cardui;[2] but the presence of other insects makes the case distinct, and not so easily intelligible. Before sunset, a strong breeze sprung up from the north, and this must have been the cause of tens of thousands of the butterflies and other insects having perished.

On another occasion, when seventeen miles off Cape Corrientes, I had a net overboard to catch pelagic animals. Upon drawing it up, to my surprise I found a considerable number of beetles in it, and although in the open sea, they did not appear much injured by the salt water. I lost some of the specimens, but those which I preserved, belonged to the genera, colymbetes, hydroporus, hydrobius (two species), notaphus, cynucus, adimonia, and scarabæus. At first, I thought that these insects had been blown from the shore; but upon reflecting that out of the eight species, four were aquatic, and two others partly so in their habits, it appeared to me most probable that they were floated into the sea, by a small stream which drains a lake near Cape Corrientes. On any supposition, it is an interesting circumstance to find insects, quite alive, swimming in the open ocean, seventeen miles from the nearest point of land. There are several accounts of insects having been blown off the Patagonian shore. Captain Cook observed it, as did more lately Captain King in the Adventure. The cause probably is due to the want of shelter, both of trees and hills, so that an insect on the wing with an off-shore breeze, would be very apt to be blown out to sea. The most remarkable instance I ever knew of an insect being caught far from the land, was that of a large grasshopper (Acrydium), which flew on board, when the Beagle was to windward of the Cape de Verd Islands, and when the nearest point of land, not directly opposed to the trade-wind, was Cape Blanco on the coast of Africa, 370 miles distant.[3]

On several occasions, when the vessel has been within the mouth of the Plata, the rigging has been coated with the web of the Gossamer Spider. One day (November 1st, 1832) I paid particular attention to the phenomenon. The weather had been fine and clear, and in the morning the air was full of patches of the flocculent web, as on an autumnal day in England. The ship was sixty miles distant from the land, in the direction of a steady though light breeze. Vast numbers of a small spider, about one-tenth of an inch in length, and of a dusky red colour were attached to the webs. There must have been, I should suppose, some thousands on the ship. The little spider when first coming in contact with the rigging, was always seated on a single thread, and not on the flocculent mass. This latter seems merely to be produced by the entanglement of the single threads. The spiders were all of one species, but of both sexes, together with young ones. These latter were distinguished by their smaller size, and more dusky colour. I will not give the description of this spider, but merely state that it does not appear to me to be included in any of Latreille’s genera. The little aeronaut as soon as it arrived on board, was very active, running about; sometimes letting itself fall, and then reascending the same thread; sometimes employing itself in making a small and very irregular mesh in the corners between the ropes. It could run with facility on the surface of water. When disturbed it lifted up its front legs, in the attitude of attention. On its first arrival it appeared very thirsty, and with exserted maxillæ drank eagerly of the fluid; this same circumstance has been observed by Strack: may it not be in consequence of the little insect having passed through a dry and rarefied atmosphere? Its stock of web seemed inexhaustible. While watching some that were suspended by a single thread, I several times observed that the slightest breath of air bore them away out of sight, in a horizontal line. On another occasion (25th) under similar circumstances, I repeatedly observed the same kind of small spider, either when placed, or having crawled, on some little eminence, elevate its abdomen, send forth a thread, and then sail away in a lateral course, but with a rapidity which was quite unaccountable. I thought I could perceive that the spider before performing the above preparatory steps, connected its legs together with the most delicate threads, but I am not sure, whether this observation is correct.

One day, at St. Fe, I had a better opportunity of observing some similar facts. A spider which was about three-tenths of an inch in length, and which in its general appearance resembled a Citigrade (therefore quite different from the gossamer), while standing on the summit of a post, darted forth four or five threads from its spinners. These glittering in the sunshine, might be compared to rays of light; they were not, however, straight, but in undulations like a film of silk blown by the wind. They were more than a yard in length, and diverged in an ascending direction from the orifices. The spider then suddenly let go its hold, and was quickly borne out of sight. The day was hot and apparently quite calm; yet under such circumstances the atmosphere can never be so tranquil, as not to affect a vane so delicate as the thread of a spider’s web. If during a warm day we look either at the shadow of any object cast on a bank, or over a level plain at a distant landmark, the effect of an ascending current of heated air will almost always be evident. And this probably would be sufficient to carry with it so light an object as the little spider on its thread. The circumstance of spiders of the same species but of different sexes and ages, being found on several occasions at the distance of many leagues from the land, attached in vast numbers to the lines, proves that they are the manufacturers of the mesh, and that the habit of sailing through the air, is probably as characteristic of some tribe, as that of diving is of the Argyroneta. We may then reject Latreille’s supposition, that the gossamer owes its origin to the webs of the young of several genera, as Epeira or Thomisa: although, as we have seen that the young of other spiders do possess the power of performing aerial voyages.[4]

During our different passages south of the Plata, I often towed astern a net made of bunting, and thus caught many curious animals. The structure of the Beroe (a kind of jelly fish) is most extraordinary, with its rows of vibratory ciliæ, and complicated though irregular system of circulation. Of Crustacea, there were many strange and undescribed genera. One, which in some respects is allied to the Notopods (or those crabs which have their posterior legs placed almost on their backs, for the purpose of adhering to the under side of ledges), is very remarkable from the structure of its hind pair of legs. The penultimate joint, instead of being terminated by a simple claw, ends in three bristle-like appendages of dissimilar lengths,--the longest equalling that of the entire leg. These claws are very thin, and are serrated with teeth of an excessive fineness, which are directed towards the base. The curved extremities are flattened, and on this part five most minute cups are placed, which seem to act in the same manner as the suckers on the arms of the cuttle-fish. As the animal lives in the open sea, and probably wants a place of rest, I suppose this beautiful structure is adapted to take hold of the globular bodies of the Medusæ, and other floating marine animals.

In deep water, far from the land, the number of living creatures is extremely small: south of the latitude 35°, I never succeeded in catching any thing besides some beroe, and a few species of minute crustacea belonging to the Entomostraca. In shoaler water, at the distance of a few miles from the coast, very many kinds of crustacea and some other animals were numerous, but only during the night. Between latitudes 56° and 57° south of Cape Horn the net was put astern several times; it never, however, brought up any thing besides a few of two extremely minute species of Entomostraca. Yet whales and seals, petrels and albatross, are exceedingly abundant throughout this part of the ocean. It has always been a source of mystery to me, on what the latter, which live far from the shore, can subsist. I presume the albatross, like the condor, is able to fast long; and that one good feast on the carcass of a putrid whale lasts for a long siege of hunger. It does not lessen the difficulty to say, they feed on fish; for on what can the fish feed? It often occurred to me, when observing how the waters of the central and intertropical parts of the Atlantic,[5] swarmed with Pteropoda, Crustacea, and Radiata, and with their devourers the flying-fish, and again with their devourers the bonitos and albicores, that the lowest of these pelagic animals perhaps possess the power of decomposing carbonic acid gas, like the members of the vegetable kingdom.

While sailing in these latitudes on one very dark night, the sea presented a wonderful and most beautiful spectacle. There was a fresh breeze, and every part of the surface, which during the day is seen as foam, now glowed with a pale light. The vessel drove before her bows two billows of liquid phosphorus, and in her wake she was followed by a milky train. As far as the eye reached, the crest of every wave was bright, and the sky above the horizon, from the reflected glare of these livid flames, was not so utterly obscure, as over the rest of the heavens.

As we proceed further southward, the sea is seldom phosphorescent; and off Cape Horn, I do not recollect more than once having seen it so, and then it was far from being brilliant. This circumstance probably has a close connexion with the scarcity of organic beings in that part of the ocean. After the elaborate paper[6] by Ehrenberg, on the phosphorescence of the sea, it is almost superfluous on my part to make any observations on the subject. I may however add, that the same torn and irregular particles of gelatinous matter, described by Ehrenberg, seem in the southern as well as in the northern hemisphere, to be the common cause of this phenomenon. The particles were so minute as easily to pass through fine gauze; yet many were distinctly visible by the naked eye. The water when placed in a tumbler and agitated gave out sparks, but a small portion in a watch-glass, scarcely ever was luminous. Ehrenberg states, that these particles all retain a certain degree of irritability. My observations, some of which were made directly after taking up the water, would give a different result. I may also mention, that having used the net during one night I allowed it to become partially dry, and having occasion twelve hours afterwards, to employ it again, I found the whole surface sparkled as brightly as when first taken out of the water. It does not appear probable in this case, that the particles could have remained so long alive. I remark also in my notes, that having kept a Medusa of the genus Dianæa, till it was dead, the water in which it was placed became luminous. When the waves scintillate with bright green sparks, I believe it is generally owing to minute crustacea. But there can be no doubt that very many other pelagic animals, when alive, are phosphorescent.

On two occasions I have observed the sea luminous at considerable depths beneath the surface. Near the mouth of the Plata some circular and oval patches, from two to four yards in diameter, and with defined outlines, shone with a steady, but pale light; while the surrounding water only gave out a few sparks. The appearance resembled the reflection of the moon, or some luminous body; for the edges were sinuous from the undulation of the surface. The ship, which drew thirteen feet water, passed over, without disturbing, these patches. Therefore we must suppose that some animals were congregated together at a greater depth than the bottom of the vessel.

Near Fernando Noronha the sea gave out light in flashes. The appearance was very similar to that which might be expected from a large fish moving rapidly through a luminous fluid. To this cause the sailors attributed it; at the time, however, I entertained some doubts, on account of the frequency and rapidity of the flashes. With respect to any general observations, I have already stated that the display is very much more common in warm than in cold countries. I have sometimes imagined that a disturbed electrical condition of the atmosphere was most favourable to its production. Certainly I think the sea is most luminous after a few days of more calm weather than ordinary, during which time it has swarmed with various animals. Observing that the water charged with gelatinous particles is in an impure state, and that the luminous appearance in all common cases is produced by the agitation of the fluid in contact with the atmosphere, I have always been inclined to consider that the phosphorescence was the result of the decomposition of the organic particles, by which process (one is tempted almost to call it a kind of respiration) the ocean becomes purified.

DECEMBER 23D.--We arrived at Port Desire, situated in lat. 47°, on the coast of Patagonia. The creek runs for about twenty miles inland, with an irregular width. The Beagle anchored a few miles within the entrance in front of the ruins of an old Spanish settlement.

The same evening I went on shore. The first landing in any new country is very interesting, and especially when, as in this case, the whole aspect bears the stamp of a marked and individual character. At the height of between two and three hundred feet, above some masses of porphyry, a wide plain extends, which is truly characteristic of Patagonia. The surface is quite level, and is composed of well-rounded shingle mixed with a whitish earth. Here and there scattered tufts of brown wiry grass are supported, and still more rarely some low thorny bushes. The weather is dry and pleasant, for the fine blue sky is but seldom obscured. When standing in the middle of one of these desert plains, the view on one side is generally bounded by the escarpment of another plain, rather higher, but equally level and desolate; and on the other side it becomes indistinct from the trembling mirage which seems to rise from the heated surface.

The plains are traversed by many broad, flat-bottomed valleys, and in these the bushes grow rather more abundantly. The present drainage of the country is quite insufficient to excavate such large channels. In some of the valleys ancient stunted trees, growing in the very centre of the dry watercourse, seem as if placed to prove how long a time had elapsed, since any flood had passed that way. We have evidence, from shells lying on the surface, that the plains of gravel have been elevated within a recent epoch above the level of the sea; and we must look to that period for the excavation of the valleys by the slowly-retiring waters. From the dryness of the climate, a man may walk for days together over these plains without finding a single drop of water. Even at the base of the porphyry hills, there are only a few small wells containing but little water, and that rather saline and half putrid.

In such a country the fate of the Spanish settlement was soon decided; the dryness of the climate during the greater part of the year, and the occasional hostile attacks of the wandering Indians, compelled the colonists to desert their half-finished buildings. The style, however, in which they were commenced, showed the strong and liberal hand of Spain in the old time. The end of all the attempts to colonize this side of America south of 41°, have been miserable. At Port Famine, the name expresses the lingering and extreme sufferings of several hundred wretched people, of whom one alone survived to relate their misfortunes. At St. Joseph’s bay, on the coast of Patagonia, a small settlement was made; but during one Sunday the Indians made an attack and massacred the whole party, excepting two men, who were led captive many years among the wandering tribes. At the Rio Negro I conversed with one of these men, now in extreme old age.

The zoology of Patagonia is as limited as its Flora.[7] On the arid plains a few black beetles (Heteromera) might be seen slowly crawling about, and occasionally a lizard darting from side to side. Of birds we have three carrion hawks, and in the valleys a few finches and insect feeders. The Ibis malanops (a species said to be found in central Africa) is not uncommon on the most desert parts. In the stomachs of these birds I found grasshoppers, cicadæ, small lizards, and even scorpions.[8] At one time of the year they go in flocks, at another in pairs: their cry is very loud and singular, and resembles the neighing of the guanaco.

I will here give an account of this latter animal, which is very common, and is the characteristic quadruped of the plains of Patagonia. The Guanaco, which by some naturalists is considered as the same animal with the Llama, but in its wild state, is the South American representative of the camel of the East. In size it may be compared to an ass, mounted on taller legs, and with a very long neck. The guanaco abounds over the whole of the temperate parts of South America, from the wooded islands of Tierra del Fuego, through Patagonia, the hilly parts of La Plata, Chile, even to the Cordillera of Peru. Although preferring an elevated site, it yields in this respect to its near relative the Vicuna. On the plains of Southern Patagonia, we saw them in greater numbers than in any other part. Generally they go in small herds, from half a dozen to thirty together; but on the banks of the St Cruz we saw one herd which must have contained at least five hundred. On the northern shores of the Strait of Magellan they are also very numerous.

Generally the guanacoes are wild and extremely wary. Mr. Stokes told me, that he one day saw through a glass a herd of these beasts, which evidently had been frightened, running away at full speed, although their distance was so great that they could not be distinguished by the naked eye. The sportsman frequently receives the first intimation of their presence, by hearing, from a long distance, the peculiar shrill neighing note of alarm. If he then looks attentively, he will perhaps see the herd standing in a line on the side of some distant hill. On approaching them, a few more squeals are given, and then off they set at an apparently slow, but really quick canter, along some narrow beaten track to a neighbouring hill. If, however, by chance he should abruptly meet a single animal, or several together, they will generally stand motionless, and intently gaze at him; then perhaps move on a few yards, turn round, and look again. What is the cause of this difference in their shiness? Do they mistake a man in the distance for their chief enemy the puma? Or does curiosity overcome their timidity? That they are curious is certain; for if a person lies on the ground, and plays strange antics, such as throwing up his feet in the air, they will almost always approach by degrees to reconnoitre him. It was an artifice that was repeatedly practised by our sportsmen with success, and it had moreover the advantage of allowing several shots to be fired, which were all taken as parts of the performance. On the mountains of Tierra del Fuego, and in other places, I have more than once seen a guanaco, on being approached, not only neigh and squeal, but prance and leap about in the most ridiculous manner, apparently in defiance as a challenge. These animals are very easily domesticated, and I have seen some thus kept near the houses, although at large on their native plains. They are in this state very bold, and readily attack a man, by striking him from behind with both knees. It is asserted, that the motive for these attacks is jealousy on account of their females. The wild guanacoes, however, have no idea of defence; even a single dog will secure one of these large animals, till the huntsman can come up. In many of their habits they are like sheep in a flock. Thus when they see men approaching in several directions on horseback, they soon became bewildered, and know not which way to run. This greatly facilitates the Indian method of hunting, for they are thus easily driven to a central point, and are encompassed.

The guanacoes readily take to the water: several times at Port Valdes they were seen swimming from island to island. Byron, in his voyage, says he saw them drinking salt water. Some of our officers likewise saw a herd apparently drinking the briny fluid from a salina near Cape Blanco. I imagine in several parts of the country, if they do not drink salt water, they drink none at all. In the middle of the day, they frequently roll in the dust, in saucer-shaped hollows. The males fight together; two one day passed quite close to me, squealing and trying to bite each other; and several were shot with their hides deeply scored. Herds sometimes appear to set out on exploring-parties: at Bahia Blanca, where, within thirty miles of the coast, these animals are extremely unfrequent, I one day saw the tracks of thirty or forty, which had come in a direct line to a muddy salt-water creek. They then must have perceived that they were approaching the sea, for they had wheeled with the regularity of cavalry, and had returned back in as straight a line as they had advanced. The guanacoes have one singular habit, which is to me quite inexplicable; namely, that on successive days they drop their dung in the same defined heap. I saw one of these heaps which was eight feet in diameter, and necessarily was composed of a large quantity. Frezier remarks on this habit as common to the guanaco as well as to the llama;[9] he says it is very useful to the Indians, who use the dung for fuel, and are thus saved the trouble of collecting it.

The guanacoes appear to have favourite spots for dying in. On the banks of the St. Cruz, the ground was actually white with bones, in certain circumscribed spaces, which were generally bushy and all near the river. On one such spot I counted between ten and twenty heads. I particularly examined the bones; they did not appear, as some scattered ones which I had seen, gnawed or broken, as if dragged together by beasts of prey. The animals in most cases, must have crawled, before dying, beneath and amongst the bushes. Mr. Bynoe informs me that during the last voyage, he observed the same circumstance on the banks of the Rio Gallegos. I do not at all understand the reason of this, but I may observe, that the wounded guanacoes at the St. Cruz, invariably walked towards the river. At St. Jago in the Cape de Verd islands I remember having seen in a retired ravine a corner under a cliff, where numerous goats’ bones were collected: we at the time exclaimed, that it was the burial-ground of all the goats in the island. I mention these trifling circumstances, because in certain cases they might explain the occurrence of a number of uninjured bones in a cave, or buried under alluvial accumulations; and likewise the cause, why certain mammalia are more commonly embedded than others in sedimentary deposits. Any great flood of the St. Cruz., would wash down many bones of the guanaco, but probably not a single one of the puma, ostrich, or fox. I may also observe, that almost every kind of waterfowl when wounded takes to the shore to die; so that the remains of birds, from this cause alone and independently of other reasons, would but rarely be preserved in a fossil state.

One day the yawl was sent under the command of Mr. Chaffers with three days’ provisions to survey the upper part of the harbour. In the morning we searched for some watering-places, mentioned in an old Spanish chart. We found one creek, at the head of which there was a trickling rill (the first we had seen) of brackish water. Here the tide compelled us to wait several hours; and in the interval I walked some miles into the interior. The plain as usual, consisted of gravel, mingled with soil resembling chalk in appearance, but very different from it in nature. From the softness of these materials it was worn into many gullies. There was not a tree, and excepting the guanaco, which stood on the hill-top a watchful sentinel over its herd, scarcely an animal or a bird. All was stillness and desolation. One reflected how many ages the plain had thus lasted, and how many more it was doomed thus to continue. Yet in passing over these scenes, without one bright object near, an ill-defined but strong sense of pleasure is vividly excited.

In the evening we sailed a few miles further up, and then pitched the tents for the night. By the middle of the next day, the yawl was aground, and from the shoalness of the water could not proceed any higher. The water being found partly fresh Mr. Chaffers took the dingey, and went up two or three miles further, where she also grounded, but in a fresh-water river. The water was muddy, and though the stream was most insignificant in size, it would be difficult to account for its source, except from the melting snow on the Cordillera. At the spot where we bivouacked, we were surrounded by bold cliffs and steep pinnacles of porphyry. I do not think I ever saw a spot, which appeared more secluded from the rest of the world, than this rocky crevice in the wide plain.

The second day after our return to the anchorage, a party of officers and myself went to ransack an old Indian grave, which I had found on the summit of a neighbouring hill. Two immense stones, each probably weighing at least a couple of tons, had been placed in front of a ledge of rock, about six feet high. At the bottom of the grave on the hard rock, there was a layer of earth about a foot deep, which must have been brought up from the plain below. Above it a pavement of flat stones was placed, on which others were piled, so as to fill up the space between the ledge and the two great blocks. To complete the grave, the Indians had contrived to detach from the same ledge a huge fragment, and to throw it over the pile so as to rest on the two blocks. We undermined the grave on both sides, but could not find any relics, or even bones. The latter probably had decayed long since (in which case the grave must have been of extreme antiquity), for I found in another place some smaller heaps, beneath which a very few crumbling fragments could yet be distinguished, as having belonged to a man. Falconer states, that where an Indian dies he is buried, but that subsequently his bones are carefully taken up and carried, let the distance be ever so great, to be deposited near the sea-coast. This custom, I think, may be accounted for, by recollecting that before the introduction of horses, these Indians must have led nearly the same life as the Fuegians, and therefore generally resided in the neighbourhood of the sea. The common prejudice of lying where one’s ancestors have lain, would make the now roaming Indians bring the less perishable part of their dead to their ancient burial-grounds.

JANUARY 9TH, 1834.--Before it was dark the Beagle anchored in the fine spacious harbour of Port St. Julian, situated about one hundred and ten miles to the south of Port Desire. We remained here eight days. The country is nearly similar to that of Port Desire, but, perhaps, rather more sterile. One day a party accompanied Captain FitzRoy on a long walk round the head of the harbour. We were eleven hours without tasting any water, and some of the party were quite exhausted. From the summit of a hill (since well named Thirsty Hill) a fine lake was spied, and two of the party proceeded with concerted signals to show whether it was fresh water. What was our disappointment to find a snow-white expanse of salt, crystallized in great cubes! We attributed our extreme thirst to the dryness of the atmosphere; but whatever the cause might be, we were exceedingly glad late in the evening to get back to the boats. Although we could nowhere find, during our whole visit, a single drop of fresh water, yet some must exist; for by an odd chance I found on the surface of the salt water, near the head of the bay, a Colymbetes not quite dead, which in all probability had lived in some not far distant pool. Three other kinds of insects,--a Cincindela, like hybrida, Cymindis, and a Harpalus, which all live on muddy flats occasionally overflowed by the sea, and one other beetle found dead on the plain,--completes the list of coleoptera. A good-sized fly (Tabanus) was extremely numerous, and tormented us by its painful bite. The common horsefly, which is so troublesome in the shady lanes of England, belongs to this genus. We here have the puzzle, that so frequently occurs in the case of musquitoes; on the blood of what animals do these insects commonly feed? The guanaco is nearly the only warmblooded quadruped, and they are present in numbers quite inconsiderable, compared to the multitude of flies.

The foundation of porphyry is not here present, as it was at Port Desire, and in consequence the tertiary deposits are arranged with greater regularity. Five successive plains of different altitudes are very distinct. The lower one is a mere fringe nearly on a level with the sea, but the upper one is elevated 950 feet. This latter is represented in this neighbourhood only by a few truncate conical hills, of exactly the same height. It was very interesting to stand on one of these flat patches of gravel, and viewing the wide surrounding country, to speculate on the enormous quantity of matter which must have been removed, thus to leave these mere points, as measures of the former table-land.

I will now give a brief sketch of the geology of the grand tertiary formation of Patagonia, which extends from the Strait of Magellan to the Bay of S. Antonio. In Europe, deposits of the more recent eras have generally been accumulated in small basins or trough-shaped hollows. In South America, however, the entire plains of Patagonia extending seven hundred miles in length, and backed on the one hand by the chain of the Andes, and fronted on the other by the shores of the Atlantic, are thus constituted. Moreover the northern boundary is merely assumed in consequence of a mineralogical change in the strata: if organic remains were present, it probably would be found to be only an artificial limit. Again to the northward (1300 miles distant from the Strait of Magellan) we have the Pampas deposit, which though very different in composition, belongs to the same epoch with the superficial covering of the plains of Patagonia.

The cliffs on the coast give the following section: The lower part consists of a soft sandstone, containing large concretions of a harder nature. These strata contain many organic remains--immense oysters nearly a foot in diameter, curious pectens, echini, turritellæ, and other shells, of which the greater portion are extinct, but a few resemble those now existing on the coast.[10] Above these fossiliferous beds, a mass of soft friable stone or earth is superimposed, which, from its extreme whiteness, has been mistaken for chalk. It is, however, quite different; and closely resembles the less argillaceous varieties of decomposed felspar. This substance never contains organic remains. Lastly, the cliff is surmounted by a thick bed of gravel, almost exclusively derived from porphyritic rocks. For the sake of making the following description more easily intelligible, I have subjoined an imaginary section of the plains near the coast. It must be observed, that the width of each plain is in nature very much greater in proportion to the height, than here represented.

The whole series is horizontally stratified, and I do not recollect ever seeing any signs of violence, not even such as a fault. The gravel covers the entire surface of the land, from the Rio Colorado to the Strait of Magellan, a space of 800 miles, and is one chief cause of the desert character of Patagonia. Judging from a section across the continent at the St. Cruz river, and from some other reasons, I believe the gravel beds gradually thickening as they ascend, every where reach the base of the Cordillera. It is to these mountains we must look for the parent rocks, of at least a large portion of the well-rounded fragments. I apprehend so great an area covered by shingle, could scarcely be pointed out in any other part of the world.

Having said thus much of the constitution, let us look at the external configuration of the mass. The level plains are cut off along the whole line of coast by perpendicular cliffs, which are necessarily of different altitudes, because any one of the successive terraces, which, as I have already noticed, rise like steps one above the other, may form the sea cliff. These steps are often several miles broad; but from one point of view I have seen four very distinct lines of escarpment abutting one over the other. Having observed that the plains appeared to run for great distances along the coast at the same level, I measured barometrically the elevation of some of them, and compared these measurements, and took all those made by the officers employed in the survey. I was astonished to find at how great distances, even of 600 miles, plains occurred that had, within a few feet of difference, the same elevation. I believe I can distinguish seven or eight distinct terraces which occur along the line of coast, and which include heights between 1200 feet and the level of the sea. It will be understood that they are not always present, for the lower ones have in some parts been removed by the action of the sea sooner than in others. When any broad valley enters the country, the terraces sweep round and run up on each side; in which case, the correspondence on the opposite sides is beautifully illustrated.

I have called these step-like plains level, because they appear to be absolutely so to the eye, but in truth they rise a little between the edge of one line of cliff and the base of the next above it. Their slope is about the same as that of the gradually shoaling bottom of the neighbouring sea. The elevation of 350 feet is gained by three steps; one of about 100 feet, the second 250, and the third 350. Over these three plains marine remains are frequently scattered, but they are especially abundant on the lower one. The shells are the same as the now existing littoral species, and the muscle and turbo yet partially retain their blue and purple colours.

We have now stated the problem, which is to be explained so as to connect together these various phenomena. At first I could only understand the grand covering of gravel, by the supposition of some epoch of extreme violence, and the successive lines of cliff, by as many great elevations, the precise action of which I could not however follow out. Guided by the “Principles of Geology,” and having under my view the vast changes going on in this continent, which at the present day seems the great workshop of nature, I came to another, and I hope more satisfactory conclusion. The importance of any view which may explain the agency by which such vast beds of shingle have been transported over the surface of the successive plains, cannot be doubted. Whatever the cause may have been, it has determined the condition of this desert country, with respect to its form, nature, and capabilities of supporting life.

There are proofs, that the whole coast has been elevated to a considerable height within the recent period; and on the shores of the Pacific, where successive terraces likewise occur, we know that these changes have latterly been very gradual. There is indeed reason for believing, that the uplifting of the ground during the earthquakes in Chile, although only to the height of two or three feet, has been a disturbance which may be considered as a great one, in comparison to the series of lesser and scarcely sensible movements which are likewise in progress. Let us then imagine the consequence of the shoaling bed of an ocean, elevated at a perfectly equable rate, so that the same number of feet should be converted into dry land in each succeeding century. Every part of the surface would then have been exposed for an equal length of time to the action of the beach-line, and the whole in consequence equally modified. The shoaling bed of the ocean would thus be changed into a sloping land, with no marked line on it. If, however, there should occur a long period of repose in the elevations, and the currents of the sea should tend to wear away the land (as happens along this whole coast), then there would be formed a line of cliff. Accordingly as the repose was long, so would be the quantity of land consumed, and the consequent height of such cliffs. Let the elevations recommence, and another sloping bank (of shingle, or sand, or mud, according to the nature of the successive beach-lines) must be formed, which again will be broken by as many lines of cliff, as there shall be periods of rest in the action of the subterranean forces. Now this is the structure of the plains of Patagonia; and such gradual changes harmonize well with the undisturbed strata, extending over so many hundred miles.

I must here observe, that I am far from supposing that the entire coast of this part of the continent has ever been lifted up, to the height of even a foot, at any one moment of time; but, drawing our analogies from the shores of the Pacific, that the whole may have been insensibly rising, with every now and then a paroxysmal or accelerated movement in certain spots. With respect to the alternation of the periods of such continued rise and those of quiescence, we may grant that they are probable, because such alternation agrees with what we see in the action, not only of a single volcano, but likewise of the disturbances affecting whole regions of the earth. At the present day, to the north of the parallel 44°, the subterranean forces are constantly manifesting their power over a space of more than one thousand miles. But to the southward of that line, as far as Cape Horn, an earthquake is seldom or never experienced, and there is not a single point of eruption; yet in former ages, as we shall hereafter show, deluges of lava flowed from that very part. It is in conformity with our hypothesis that this southern region of repose, is at present suffering from the inroads of the ocean, as attested by the long line of cliff on the Patagonian coast. Such we believe to have been the causes of this singular configuration of the land. Nevertheless, we confess that it at first appears startling, that the most marked intervals between the heights of the successive plains should, instead of some great and sudden action of the subterranean forces, only indicate a longer period of repose.

In explaining the widely-spread bed of gravel, we must first suppose a great mass of shingle to be collected by the action of innumerable torrents, and the swell of an open ocean, at the submarine basis of the Andes, prior to the elevation of the plains of Patagonia. If such a mass should then be lifted up, and left exposed during one of the periods of subterranean repose; a certain breadth, for instance a mile, would be washed down, and spread out over the bottom of the invading waters. (That the sea near the coast can carry out pebbles, we may feel sure from the circumstance of their gradual decrease in size, according to the distance from the coast-line.)

If this part of the sea should now be elevated, we should have a bed of gravel, but it would be of less thickness than in the first mass, both because it is spread over a larger area, and because it has been much reduced by attrition. This process being repeated, we might carry beds of gravel, always decreasing in thickness (as happens in Patagonia) to a considerable distance from the line of parent rock.[11] For instance, on the banks of the St. Cruz at the distance of one hundred miles above the mouth of the river, the bed of gravel is 212 feet thick, whereas, near the coast, it seldom exceeds 25 or 30 feet; the thickness being thus reduced to nearly one-eighth.

I have already stated that the gravel is separated from the fossiliferous strata by some white beds of a friable substance, singularly resembling chalk, but which cannot be compared, as far as I am aware, with any formation in Europe. With respect to its origin, I may observe that the well-rounded pebbles all consist of various felspathic porphyries; and that, from their prolonged attrition, during the successive remodellings of the whole mass, much sediment must have been produced. I have already remarked that the white earthy matter more closely resembles decomposed felspar, than any other substance. If such is its origin, it would always, from its lightness, be carried further to seaward than the pebbles. But as the land was elevated, the beds would be brought nearer the coast-line, and so become covered by the fresh masses of gravel which were travelling outwards. When these white beds were themselves elevated, they would hold a position intermediate between the gravel and the common foundation, or the fossiliferous strata. To explain my meaning more clearly, let us suppose the bottom of the present sea covered to a certain distance from the coast-line, with pebbles gradually decreasing in size, and beyond it by the white sediment. Let the land rise, so that the beach-line, by the fall of the water, may be carried outwards; then likewise the gravel, by the same agency as before, will be transported so much further from the coast, and will cover the white sediment, and these beds again will invade the more distant parts of the bottom of the sea. By this outward progress, the order of superposition must always be gravel, white sediment, and the fossiliferous strata.

Such is the history of the changes by which the present condition of Patagonia has, I believe, been determined. These changes all result from the assumption of a steady but very gradual elevation, extending over a wide area, and interrupted at long intervals by periods of repose. But we must now return to Port St. Julian. On the south side of the harbour, a cliff of about ninety feet in height intersects a plain constituted of the formations above described; and its surface is strewed over with recent marine shells. The gravel, however, differently from that in every other locality, is covered by a very irregular and thin bed of a reddish loam, containing a few small calcareous concretions. The matter somewhat resembles that of the Pampas, and probably owes its origin either to a small stream having formerly entered the sea at that spot, or to a mud-bank similar to those now existing at the head of the harbour. In one spot this earthy matter filled up a hollow, or gully, worn quite through the gravel, and in this mass a group of large bones was embedded. The animal to which they belonged, must have lived, as in the case at Bahia Blanca, at a period long subsequent to the existence of the shells now inhabiting the coast. We may feel sure of this, because the formation of the lower terrace or plain, must necessarily have been posterior to those above it, and on the surface of the two higher ones, sea-shells of recent species are scattered. From the small physical change, which the last one hundred feet elevation of the continent could have produced, the climate, as well as the general condition of Patagonia, probably was nearly the same, at the time when the animal was embedded, as it now is. This conclusion is moreover supported by the identity of the shells belonging to the two ages. Then immediately occurred the difficulty, how could any large quadruped have subsisted on these wretched deserts in lat. 49° 15′? I had no idea at the time, to what kind of animal these remains belonged. The puzzle, however, was soon solved when Mr. Owen examined them; for he considers that they formed part of an animal allied to the guanaco or llama, but fully as large as the true camel. As all the existing members of the family of Camelidæ are inhabitants of the most sterile countries, so may we suppose was this extinct kind. The structure of the cervical vertebræ, the transverse processes not being perforated for the vertebral artery, indicates its affinity: some other parts, however, of its structure, probably are anomalous.

The most important result of this discovery, is the confirmation of the law that existing animals have a close relation in form with extinct species. As the guanaco is the characteristic quadruped of Patagonia, and the vicuna of the snow-clad summits of the Cordillera, so in bygone days, this gigantic species of the same family must have been conspicuous on the southern plains. We see this same relation of type between the existing and fossil Ctenomys, between the capybara (but less plainly, as shown by Mr. Owen) and the gigantic Toxodon; and lastly, between the living and extinct Edentata. At the present day, in South America, there exist probably nineteen species of this order, distributed into several genera; while throughout the rest of the world there are but five. If, then, there is a relation between the living and the dead, we should expect that the Edentata would be numerous in the fossil state. I need only reply by enumerating the megatherium, and the three or four other great species, discovered at Bahia Blanca; the remains of some of which are also abundant over the whole immense territory of La Plata. I have already pointed out the singular relation between the armadilloes and their great prototypes, even in a point apparently of so little importance as their external covering.

The order of rodents at the present day, is most conspicuous in South America, on account of the vast number[12] and size of the species, and the multitude of individuals: according to the same law, we should expect to find their representatives in a fossil state. Mr. Owen has shown how far the Toxodon is thus related; and it is moreover not improbable that another large animal has likewise a similar affinity.

The teeth of the rodent nearly equalling in size those of the Capybara, which were discovered near Bahia Blanca, must also be remembered.

The law of the succession of types, although subject to some remarkable exceptions, must possess the highest interest to every philosophical naturalist, and was first clearly observed in regard to Australia, where fossil remains of a large and extinct species of Kangaroo and other marsupial animals were discovered buried in a cave. In America the most marked change among the mammalia has been the loss of several species of Mastodon, of an elephant, and of the horse. These Pachydermata appear formerly to have had a range over the world, like that which deer and antelopes now hold. If Buffon had known of these gigantic armadilloes, llamas, great rodents, and lost pachydermata, he would have said with a greater semblance of truth, that the creative force in America had lost its vigour, rather than that it had never possessed such powers.

It is impossible to reflect without the deepest astonishment, on the changed state of this continent. Formerly it must have swarmed with great monsters, like the southern parts of Africa, but now we find only the tapir, guanaco, armadillo, and capybara; mere pigmies compared to the antecedent races. The greater number, if not all, of these extinct quadrupeds lived at a very recent period; and many of them were contemporaries of the existing molluscs. Since their loss, no very great physical changes can have taken place in the nature of the country. What then has exterminated so many living creatures? In the Pampas, the great sepulchre of such remains, there are no signs of violence, but on the contrary, of the most quiet and scarcely sensible changes. At Bahia Blanca I endeavoured to show the probability that the ancient Edentata, like the present species, lived in a dry and sterile country, such as now is found in that neighbourhood. With respect to the camel-like llama of Patagonia, the same grounds which, before knowing more than the size of the remains, perplexed me, by not allowing any great change of climate, now that we can guess the habits of the animal, are strangely confirmed. What shall we say of the death of the fossil horse? Did those plains fail in pasture, which afterwards were overrun by thousands and tens of thousands of the successors of the fresh stock introduced with the Spanish colonist? In some countries, we may believe, that a number of species subsequently introduced, by consuming the food of the antecedent races, may have caused their extermination; but we can scarcely credit that the armadillo has devoured the food of the immense Megatherium, the capybara of the Toxodon, or the guanaco of the camel-like kind. But granting that all such changes have been small, yet we are so profoundly ignorant concerning the physiological relations, on which the life, and even health (as shown by epidemics) of any existing species depends, that we argue with still less safety about either the life or death of any extinct kind.

One is tempted to believe in such simple relations, as variation of climate and food, or introduction of enemies, or the increased numbers of other species, as the cause of the succession of races. But it may be asked whether it is probable than any such cause should have been in action during the same epoch over the whole northern hemisphere, so as to destroy the Elephas primigenus, on the shores of Spain, on the plains of Siberia, and in Northern America; and in a like manner, the Bos urus, over a range of scarcely less extent? Did such changes put a period to the life of Mastodon angustidens, and of the fossil horse, both in Europe and on the Eastern slope of the Cordillera in Southern America? If they did, they must have been changes common to the whole world; such as gradual refrigeration, whether from modifications of physical geography, or from central cooling. But on this assumption, we have to struggle with the difficulty that these supposed changes, although scarcely sufficient to affect molluscous animals either in Europe or South America, yet destroyed many quadrupeds in regions now characterized by frigid, temperate, and warm[13] climates! These cases of extinction forcibly recall the idea (I do not wish to draw any close analogy) of certain fruit-trees, which, it has been asserted, though grafted on young stems, planted in varied situations, and fertilized by the richest manures, yet at one period, have all withered away and perished. A fixed and determined length of life has in such cases been given to thousands and thousands of buds (or individual germs), although produced in long succession. Among the greater number of animals, each individual appears nearly independent of its kind; yet all of one kind may be bound together by common laws, as well as a certain number of individual buds in the tree, or polypi in the Zoophyte.

I will add one other remark. We see that whole series of animals, which have been created with peculiar kinds of organization, are confined to certain areas; and we can hardly suppose these structures are only adaptations to peculiarities of climate or country; for otherwise, animals belonging to a distinct type, and introduced by man, would not succeed so admirably, even to the extermination of the aborigines. On such grounds it does not seem a necessary conclusion, that the extinction of species, more than their creation, should exclusively depend on the nature (altered by physical changes) of their country. All that at present can be said with certainty, is that, as with the individual, so with the species, the hour of life has run its course, and is spent.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I am indebted to Mr. Waterhouse for naming these and other insects.

[2] Lyell’s Geology, vol. iii., p. 63.

[3] The flies which frequently accompany a ship for some days on its passage from harbour to harbour, wandering from the vessel, are soon lost, and all disappear.

[4] I was not at the time aware of M. Virey’s very curious observations, (Bulletin des Sciences Natur., tom. xix., p. 130) which seem to prove that small spiders, in an atmosphere perfectly tranquil, and without the aid of any web, have the power of darting through the air. M. Virey, believes that by means of a rapid vibration of their feet, they walk the air. Although in his case, the conclusion seems almost inevitable, yet in the one I have described, we must suppose that the several threads which were sent forth, served as sails for the atmospheric currents to act on. After reading M. Virey’s account, it appears to me far from improbable, that the little aeronaut actually did unite, as was suspected, its feet together by some fine lines; thus forming artificial wings. I regret I did not determine this point with accuracy; for it would be a curious fact, that a spider should thus be able to take flight by the aid of temporary wings.

[5] From my experience, which has been but little, I should say that the Atlantic was far more prolific than the Pacific, at least, than in that immense open area, between the west coast of America and the extreme eastern isles of Polynesia.

[6] An abstract is given in No. IV. of the Magazine of Zoology and Botany.

[7] I found here a species of cactus, described by Professor Henslow under the name of Opuntia Darwinii (Magazine of Zoology and Botany, vol. i., p. 466), which was remarkable by the irritability manifested by the stamens, when I inserted in the flower either a piece of stick, or the end of my finger. The segments of the periant also closed on the pistil, but more slowly than the stamens.

[8] These insects were not uncommon beneath stones. I found one cannibal scorpion quietly devouring another.

[9] D’Orbigny says (vol. ii., p. 69) that all the species of the genus have this habit.

[10] The geologist must recollect this is a mere sketch, and that the fossil shells have not yet been carefully examined.

[11] It is needless to point out to the geologist, that this view, if correct, will account, without the necessity of any sudden rush of water, for the general covering of mixed shingle, so common in many parts of Europe, and likewise for the occurrence of widely-extended strata of conglomerate; for the superficial beds might, during a period of subsidence, be covered by fresh deposits.

[12] In my collection Mr. Waterhouse distinguishes twenty-seven species of mice; to these must be added about thirteen more, known from the works of Azara, and other naturalists; so that we have forty species, which have actually been described as coming from between the Tropic and Cape Horn.

[13] The Elephas primigenus is thus circumstanced, having been found in Yorkshire (associated with recent shells: Lyell, vol. i., chap, vi.), in Siberia, and in the warm regions of lat. 31°, in North America. The remains of the Mastodon occur in Paraguay (and I believe in Brazil, in lat. 12°), as well as in the temperate plains south of the Plata.

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Chapter X

Santa Cruz--Expedition up river--Indians--Character of Patagonia --Basaltic platform--Immense streams of lava--Non-transport of blocks by river--Excavation of valley--Condor, range and habits--Cordillera --Erratic boulders of great size--Indian relics--Return to the ship.

SANTA CRUZ--PATAGONIA.

APRIL 13TH.--The Beagle anchored within the mouth of the Santa Cruz. This river is situated about sixty miles south of Port St. Julian. During the last voyage, Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up, but then, from the want of provisions, was obliged to return. Excepting what was discovered at that time, scarcely any thing was known about this large river. Captain FitzRoy now determined to follow its course as far as time would allow. On the 18th, three whale-boats started, carrying three weeks’ provisions; and the party consisted of twenty-five souls--a force which would have been sufficient to have defied a host of Indians. With a strong flood-tide, and a fine day, we made a good run, soon drank some of the fresh water, and were at night nearly above the tidal influence.

The river here assumed a size and appearance, which, even at the highest point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It was generally from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the middle about seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current, which in its whole course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is perhaps its most remarkable feature. The water is of a fine blue colour, but with a slight milky tinge, and not so transparent as at first sight would have been expected. It flows over a bed of pebbles, like those which compose the beach and surrounding plains. Although its course is winding, it runs through a valley which extends in a direct line to the westward. This valley varies from five to ten miles in breadth; it is bounded by step-formed terraces, which rise in most parts one above the other to the height of five hundred feet, and have on the opposite sides a remarkable correspondence.

APRIL 19TH.--Against so strong a current, it was of course quite impossible to row or sail. Consequently the three boats were fastened together head and stern, two hands left in each, and the rest came on shore to track. As the general arrangements, made by Captain FitzRoy, were very good for facilitating the work of all, and as all had a share of it, I will describe the system. The party, including every one, was divided into two spells, each of which hauled at the tracking line alternately for an hour and a half. The officers of each boat lived with, ate the same food, and slept in the same tent with their crew, so that each boat was quite independent of the others. After sunset, the first level spot where any bushes were growing, was chosen for our night’s lodging. Each of the crew took it in turns to be cook. Immediately the boat was hauled up, the cook made his fire; two others pitched the tent; the coxswain handed the things out of the boat; the rest carried them up to the tents, and collected firewood. By this order, in half an hour, every thing was ready for the night. A watch of two men and an officer was always kept, whose duty it was to look after the boats, keep up the fire, and guard against Indians. Each in the party had his one hour every night.

During this day we tracked but a short distance, for there were many islets, covered by thorny bushes, and the channels between them were shallow.

APRIL 20TH.--We passed the islands and set to work. Our regular day’s march, although it was hard enough, carried us on an average only ten miles in a straight line, and perhaps fifteen or twenty altogether. Beyond the place where we slept last night the country is completely terra incognita, for it was there that Captain Stokes turned back. We saw in the distance a great smoke, and found the skeleton of a horse, so we knew that Indians were in the neighbourhood. On the next morning (21st) tracks of a party of horse, and marks left by the trailing of the chuzos were observed on the ground. It was generally thought they must have reconnoitred us during the night. Shortly afterwards we came to a spot, where from the fresh footsteps of men, children, and horses, it was evident the party had crossed the river.

APRIL 22D.--The country remained the same, and was extremely uninteresting. The complete similarity of the productions throughout Patagonia, is one of its most striking characters. The level plains of arid shingle support the same stunted and dwarf plants; and in the valleys the same thorn-bearing bushes grow. Every where we see the same birds and insects. Even the very banks of the river, and of the clear streamlets which entered it, were scarcely enlivened by a brighter tint of green. The curse of sterility is on the land, and the water flowing over a bed of pebbles partakes of the same curse. Hence the number of waterfowl is very scanty; for what is there to support life in the stream of this barren river?

Patagonia, poor as she is in some respects, can, however, boast of a greater stock of small rodents[1] than, perhaps, any other country in the world. Several species of mice are externally characterized by large thin ears and a very fine fur. These little animals swarm amongst the thickets in the valleys, where they cannot for months together taste a drop of water. They all seem to be cannibals, for no sooner was a mouse caught in one of my traps than it was devoured by others. A small and delicately-shaped fox, which is likewise very abundant, probably derives its entire support from these small animals. The guanaco is also in his proper district; herds of fifty or a hundred were common; and, as I have said, we saw one which must have contained at least five hundred. The puma with the condor in its train, follows and preys upon these animals. The footsteps of the former were to be seen almost every where on the banks of the river; and the remains of several guanaco, with their necks dislocated, and bones broken, showed how they had met their death.

APRIL 24TH.--Like the navigators of old when approaching an unknown land, we examined and watched for the most trivial sign of a change. The drifted trunk of a tree, or a boulder of primitive rock, was hailed with joy, as if we had seen a forest growing on the flanks of the Cordillera. The top, however, of a heavy bank of clouds, which remained almost constantly in one position, was the most promising sign, and eventually turned out true. At first the clouds were mistaken for the mountains themselves, instead of the masses of vapour condensed by their icy summits.

26TH.--We this day met with a marked change in the geological structure of the plains. From the first starting I had carefully examined the gravel in the river, and for the two last days had noticed the presence of a few small pebbles of a very cellular basalt. These gradually increased in number and in size, but none equalled in dimensions a man’s head. This morning, however, pebbles of the same rock, but more compact, suddenly became abundant, and in the course of half an hour, we saw at the distance of five or six miles the angular edge of a great basaltic platform. When we arrived at its base we found the stream bubbling among the fallen blocks. For the next twenty-eight miles, the river-course was encumbered with these basaltic masses. Above that limit, immense fragments belonging to a primitive formation, but derived from the surrounding alluvium, were equally numerous. In both cases no fragments at all remarkable in size or number had been washed down the stream, more than three or four miles below either the parent rock, or the mass of alluvium from which they were derived. Considering the singular rapidity of the great body of water in the St. Cruz, and that no still reaches occur in any part, these examples are most striking of the inefficiency of rivers in transporting even moderately-sized fragments.

The basaltic cliffs are obscurely divided by lines of more cellular or amygdaloidal varieties, and the strata appear to the eye perfectly horizontal. They overlie the great tertiary deposits, and are covered (except where denuded in some of the lower terraces) by the usual beds of gravel. The basalt is clearly nothing more than lava, which has flowed beneath the sea; but the eruptions must have been on the grandest scale. At the point where we first met this formation, the mass was about 120 feet in thickness; following the river-course, it imperceptibly rose and became thicker, so that at forty miles above the first station it was 320 feet. What the thickness may be close to the Cordillera, I have no means of knowing, but the platform there attains an elevation between two and three thousand feet above the level of the sea: we must therefore look to the mountains of that great chain for its source; and worthy of such a source are streams, that have flowed over the bed of an ocean to a distance of one hundred miles.

A fine section of the basaltic platform is presented by the cliffs on both sides of the valley. At the first glance it is evident the strata must at one time have been united. What power then has removed along a whole line of country, a solid mass of very hard rock, which had an average thickness of about three hundred feet, and a breadth varying from rather less than two to four miles? The river, though it has so little power in transporting even inconsiderable fragments, yet in the lapse of ages might produce an effect by its gradual erosion, of which it is difficult to judge the limit. But in this case, independently of the insignificance of such agency, good reasons can be assigned for believing that this valley was formerly occupied by an arm of the sea. It is needless in this work to detail arguments, which chiefly rest on the form and nature of the banks, on the manner in which the valley near the foot of the Andes expands into a great bay, and on the occurrence of a few sea-shells lying in the bed of the river. If I had space I could prove that South America was formerly here cut off by a strait joining the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, like that of Magellan. But it may yet be asked, how has the solid basalt been removed? Geologists formerly would have brought into play, the violent action of some overwhelming debacle; but in this case such a supposition would have been quite inadmissible; because the same step-like terraces, that front the Patagonian coast, sweep up on each side of the valley. No possible action of any flood could have thus modelled the land in these two situations; and by the formation of such terraces the valley itself has been hollowed out. Although we know that there are tides, which run within the narrows of the Strait of Magellan at the rate of eight knots an hour, yet we must confess it makes the head almost giddy to reflect on the number of years, century after century, which the tides unaided by a heavy surf, must have required to have corroded so vast an area and thickness of solid rock. Nevertheless, we must believe that the strata undermined by the waters of this ancient strait, were broken up into huge fragments, and there lying scattered on the beach, were reduced to smaller blocks, then to pebbles, and lastly to the most impalpable mud, which the tides drifted into the bed, either of the Eastern or Western Ocean.

With the change in the geological structure of the plains the character of the landscape likewise altered. While rambling up some of the narrow and rocky defiles, I could almost have fancied myself transported back again to the barren valleys of St. Jago. Among the basaltic cliffs, I found some plants which I had seen nowhere else, but others I recognised as being wanderers from Tierra del Fuego. These porous rocks serve as a reservoir for the scanty rain-water, and consequently on the line where the igneous and sedimentary formations unite, several small springs (most rare occurrences in Patagonia) burst forth; and they could lie distinguished at a distance by the circumscribed patch of bright green herbage.

APRIL 27TH.--The bed of the river became rather narrower, and hence the stream more rapid. It here ran at the rate of six knots an hour. From this cause, and from the many great angular fragments, tracking the boats became both dangerous and laborious.

This day I shot a condor. It measured from tip to tip of the wings, eight and a half feet, and from beak to tail, four feet. It is a magnificent spectacle to behold several of these great birds seated on the edge of some steep precipice. I will here describe all I have observed respecting their habits. The condor is known to have a wide geographical range, being found on the west coast of South America, from the Strait of Magellan throughout the entire range of the Cordillera. On the Patagonian shore, the steep cliff near the mouth of the Rio Negro in lat. 41°, was the most northern point where I saw these birds, or heard of their existence. They have there wandered about four hundred miles from the great central line of their habitation in the Andes. Further south, among the bold precipices which form the head of Port Desire, they are not uncommon; yet only a few stragglers occasionally visit the sea-coast. A line of cliff near the mouth of St. Cruz, is frequented by these birds, and about eighty miles up the river, where first the sides of the valley were formed by steep basaltic precipices, the condor again appeared, although in the intermediate space not one had been seen. From these and similar facts, the presence of this bird seems chiefly to be determined by the occurrence of perpendicular cliffs. In Patagonia, the condors either by pairs or many together, both sleep and breed on the same overhanging ledges. In Chile, during the greater part of the year, they haunt the lower country near the shores of the Pacific, and at night several roost in one tree; but in the early part of summer, they retire to the most inaccessible parts of the inner Cordillera, there to breed in peace.

With respect to their propagation, I was told by the country people in Chile, that the condor makes no sort of nest, but in the months of November and December lays two large white eggs on a shelf of bare rock. On the Patagonian coast I could not see any sort of nest among the cliffs, where the young ones were standing. It is said the young condors cannot fly for an entire year. At Concepcion, on the fifth of March (corresponding to our September), I saw a young bird, which, though in size little inferior to an old one, was completely covered by down like that of a gosling, but of a blackish colour. I feel sure this bird could not have used its wings for flight for many months. After the period when the young condors can fly, and apparently as well as the old birds, they yet remain both roosting at night on the same ledge, and hunting by day with their parents. Before, however, the young bird has the ruff round its neck turned white, it may often be seen hunting by itself. At the mouth of the St. Cruz, during part of April and May, a pair of old birds might be seen every day either perched on a certain ledge, or sailing about in company with a single young one, which latter though full fledged, had not its ruff white. I should think, especially when recollecting the state in which the Concepcion bird was on the previous month, that this young condor had not been hatched from an egg of that summer. As there were no other young birds, it seems probable that the condor only lays once in two years.

These birds generally live by pairs; but among the inland basaltic cliffs of the St. Cruz, I found a spot, where scores most usually haunt. On coming suddenly to the brow of the precipice, it was a fine sight to see between twenty and thirty of these great birds start heavily from their resting-place, and wheel away in majestic circles. From the quantity of dung on the rocks, they must long have frequented this cliff, and probably they both roost and breed there. Having gorged themselves with carrion on the plains below, they retire to these favourite ledges, to digest their food. From these facts, the condor must to a certain degree, like the gallinazo, be considered a gregarious bird. In this part of the country they live altogether on the guanacoes, which either have died a natural death, or, as more commonly happens, have been killed by the pumas. I believe, from what I saw in Patagonia, that they do not on ordinary occasions extend their daily excursions to any great distance from their regular sleeping-places.

The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over a certain spot in the most graceful spires and circles. On some occasions I am sure that they do this for sport, but on others, the Chileno countrymen tell you that they are watching a dying animal, or the puma devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and then suddenly all rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the puma which, watching the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the robbers. Besides feeding on carrion, the condors will frequently attack young goats and lambs. Hence the shepherd dogs are trained, the moment the enemy passes over, to run out, and looking upwards, to bark violently. The Chilenos destroy and catch numbers. Two methods are used; one is to place a carcass within an enclosure of sticks on a level piece of ground, and when the condors are gorged, to gallop up on horseback to the entrance, and thus enclose them: for when this bird has not space to run, it cannot give its body sufficient momentum to rise from the ground. The second method is to mark the trees in which, frequently to the number of five or six, they roost together, and then at night to climb up and noose them. They are such heavy sleepers, as I have myself witnessed, that this is not a difficult task. At Valparaiso, I have seen a living condor sold for sixpence, but the common price is eight or ten shillings. One which I saw brought in, had been lashed with rope, and was much injured; yet, the moment the line was cut by which its bill was secured, although surrounded by people, it began ravenously to tear a piece of carrion. In a garden at the same place, between twenty and thirty were kept alive. They were fed only once a week, but they appeared in pretty good health.[2] The Chileno countrymen assert that the condor will live and retain its powers, between five and six weeks without eating. I cannot answer for the truth of this, but it is a cruel experiment, which very likely has been tried.

When an animal is killed in the country, it is well known that the condors, like other carrion vultures, soon gain intelligence of it, and congregate in an inexplicable manner. In most cases it must not be overlooked, that the birds have discovered their prey, and have picked the skeleton clean, before the flesh is in the least tainted. Remembering the opinions of M. Audubon, on the little smelling powers of such birds,[3] I tried in the above-mentioned garden the following experiment: The condors were tied, each by a rope, in a long row at the bottom of a wall. Having folded up a piece of meat in white paper, I walked backwards and forwards, carrying it in my hand at the distance of about three yards, but no notice whatever was taken. I then threw it on the ground, within one yard of an old cock bird; he looked at it for a moment with attention, but then regarded it no more. With a stick I pushed it closer and closer, until at last he touched it with his beak; the paper was then instantly torn off with fury, and at the same moment, every bird in the long row began struggling and flapping its wings. Under the same circumstances, it would not have been possible to have deceived a dog.

I may remark, that oftentimes when lying down to rest on the open plains, and on looking upwards, I have seen carrion hawks, sailing through the air at a great height. Where the country is level I do not believe a space of the heavens, of more than 15° above the horizon, is commonly viewed with any attention by a person either walking or on horseback. If such is the case, and the vulture is on the wing at a height of between three and four thousand feet, before it could come within the above range of vision, its distance in a straight line from the beholder’s eye, would be rather more than two British miles. Might it not thus readily be overlooked? When an animal is killed by the sportsman in a lonely valley, may he not all the while be watched from above by the sharp-sighted bird? And will not the manner of its descent proclaim throughout the district to the whole family of carrion-feeders, that their prey is at hand?

When the condors in a flock are wheeling round and round any spot, their flight is beautiful. Except when rising from the ground, I do not recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings. Near Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once taking off my eyes. They moved in large curves, sweeping in circles, descending and ascending without once flapping. As they glided close over my head, I intently watched, from an oblique position, the outlines of the separate and terminal feathers of the wing, if there had been the least vibratory movement, these would have been blended together, but they were seen distinct against the blue sky. The head and neck were moved frequently, and apparently with force, and it appeared as if the extended wings formed the fulcrum on which the movements of the neck, body, and tail, acted. If the bird wished to descend, the wings were for a moment collapsed; and then when again expanded with an altered inclination, the momentum gained by the rapid descent seemed to urge the bird upwards, with the even and steady movement of a paper kite. In the case of any bird soaring, its motion must be sufficiently rapid, so that the action of the inclined surface of its body on the atmosphere, may counterbalance its gravity. The force to keep up the momentum of a body moving in a horizontal plane in that fluid (in which there is so little friction) cannot be great, and this force is all that is wanted. The movement of the neck and body of the condor, we must suppose, is sufficient for this. However this may be, it is truly wonderful and beautiful to see so great a bird, hour after hour, without any apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over mountain and river.

APRIL 29TH.--From some high land we hailed with joy the white summits of the Cordillera, as they were seen occasionally peeping through their dusky envelope of clouds. During the few succeeding days, we continued to get on slowly, for we found the river-course very tortuous, and strewed with immense fragments of various ancient slaty rocks, and of granite. The plain bordering the valley had here attained an elevation of about 1100 feet, and its character was much altered. The well-rounded pebbles of porphyry were in this part mingled with many immense angular fragments of basalt and of the rocks above mentioned. The first of these erratic blocks which I noticed, was sixty-seven miles distant from the nearest mountain; another which had been transported to rather a less distance, measured five yards square, and projected five feet above the gravel. Its edges were so angular, and its size so great, that I at first mistook it for a rock in situ, and took out my compass to observe the direction of its cleavage. The plains here were not quite so level as those nearer the coast, but yet, they betrayed little signs of any violent action. Under these circumstances, it would be difficult, as it appears to me, to explain this phenomenon on any theory, excepting through that of transport by ice while the country was under water. But this is a subject to which I shall again recur.

During the two last days we met with signs of horses, and with several small articles which had belonged to the Indians,--such as parts of a mantle and a bunch of ostrich feathers--but they appeared to have been lying long on the ground. Between the place where the Indians had so lately crossed the river and this neighbourhood, though so many miles apart, the country appears to be quite unfrequented. At first, considering the abundance of the guanacoes, I was surprised at this; but it is explained by the stony nature of the plains, which would soon disable an unshod horse from taking part in the chase. Nevertheless, in two places in this very central region, I found small heaps of stones, which I do not think could have been accidentally thrown together. They were placed on points, projecting over the edge of the highest lava cliff, and they resembled, but on a small scale, those near Port Desire.

MAY 4TH.--Captain FitzRoy determined to take the boats no higher. The river had a winding course, and was very rapid; and the appearance of the country offered no temptation to proceed any further. Every where we met with the same productions, and the same dreary landscape. We were now one hundred and forty miles distant from the Atlantic, and about sixty from the nearest arm of the Pacific. The valley in this upper part expanded into a wide basin, bounded on the north and south by the basaltic platforms, and fronted by the long range of the snow-clad Cordillera. But we viewed these grand mountains with regret, for we were obliged to imagine their form and nature, instead of standing, as we had hoped, on their crest, and looking down on the plain below. Besides the useless loss of time which an attempt to ascend any higher would have cost us, we had already been for some days on half allowance of bread. This, although really enough for any reasonable men, was, after our hard day’s march, rather scanty food. Let those alone who have never tried it, exclaim about the comfort of a light stomach and an easy digestion.

5TH.--Before sunrise we commenced our descent. We shot down the stream with great rapidity, generally at the rate of ten knots an hour. In this one day we effected what had cost us five-and-a-half hard days’ labour in ascending. On the 8th, we reached the Beagle after our twenty-one days’ expedition. Every one excepting myself had cause to be dissatisfied; but to me the ascent afforded a most interesting section of the great tertiary formation of Patagonia.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The deserts of Syria are characterized, according to Volney (vol. i., p. 351), by woody bushes, numerous rats, gazelles, and hares. In the landscape of Patagonia, the guanaco replaces the gazelle, and the agouti the hare.

[2] I noticed that several hours before any of the condors died, all the lice, with which they are infested, crawled to the outside feathers. I was told that this was always the case.

[3] In the case of the Vultur aura, Mr. Owen, in some notes read before the Zoological Society, has demonstrated from the developed form of the olfactory nerves, that this bird must possess an acute sense of smell. It was mentioned on the same evening, that on two occasions, persons in the West Indies having died, and their bodies not being buried till they smelt offensively, these birds congregated in numbers on the roof of the house. This instance appears quite conclusive, as it was evident they had gained the intelligence by the powers of smell alone, and not of sight. It would appear from the various facts recorded, that carrion-feeding hawks possess both the sense of sight and smell in an eminent degree.

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Chapter XI

Tierra del Fuego, first arrival--Good Success Bay--Interview with savages--Scenery of the forests--Sir J. Banks’s hill--Cape Horn--Wigwam Cove--Miserable condition of savages--Beagle channel--Fuegians--Ponsonby Sound--Equality of condition among natives--Bifurcation of Beagle channel--Glaciers--Return to ship.

TIERRA DEL FUEGO.

DECEMBER 17TH, 1832.--Having now finished with Patagonia, I will describe our first arrival in Tierra del Fuego. A little after noon we doubled Cape St. Diego, and entered the famous strait of Le Maire. We kept close to the Fuegian shore, but the outline of the rugged, inhospitable Staten land was visible amidst the clouds. In the afternoon we anchored in the bay of Good Success. While entering we were saluted in a manner becoming the inhabitants of this savage land. A group of Fuegians partly concealed by the entangled forest, were perched on a wild point overhanging the sea; and as we passed by, they sprang up, and waving their tattered cloaks sent forth a loud and sonorous shout. The savages followed the ship, and just before dark we saw their fire, and again heard their wild cry. The harbour consists of a fine piece of water half surrounded by low rounded mountains of clay-slate, which are covered to the water’s edge by one dense gloomy forest. A single glance at the landscape was sufficient to show me, how widely different it was from any thing I had ever beheld. At night it blew a gale of wind, and heavy squalls from the mountains swept past us. It would have been a bad time out at sea, and we, as well as others, may call this Good Success Bay.

In the morning, the Captain sent a party to communicate with the Fuegians. When we came within hail, one of the four natives who were present advanced to receive us, and began to shout most vehemently, wishing to direct us where to land. When we were on shore the party looked rather alarmed, but continued talking and making gestures with great rapidity. It was without exception the most curious and interesting spectacle I had ever beheld. I could not have believed how wide was the difference, between savage and civilized man. It is greater than between a wild and domesticated animal, in as much as in man there is a greater power of improvement. The chief spokesman was old, and appeared to be the head of the family; the three others were powerful young men, about six feet high. The women and children had been sent away. These Fuegians are a very different race from the stunted miserable wretches further to the westward. They are much superior in person, and seem closely allied to the famous Patagonians of the Strait of Magellan. Their only garment consists of a mantle made of guanaco skin, with the wool outside; this they wear just thrown over their shoulders, as often leaving their persons exposed as covered. Their skin is of a dirty coppery red colour.

The old man had a fillet of white feathers tied round his head, which partly confined his black, coarse, and entangled hair. His face was crossed by two broad transverse bars; one painted bright red reached from ear to ear, and included the upper lip; the other, white like chalk, extended parallel and above the first, so that even his eyelids were thus coloured. Some of the other men were ornamented by streaks of black powder, made of charcoal. The party altogether closely resembled the devils which come on the stage in such plays as Der Freischutz.

Their very attitudes were abject, and the expression of their countenances distrustful, surprised, and startled. After we had presented them with some scarlet cloth, which they immediately tied round their necks, they became good friends. This was shown by the old man patting our breasts, and making a chuckling kind of noise, as people do when feeding chickens. I walked with the old man, and this demonstration of friendship was repeated several times; it was concluded by three hard slaps, which were given me on the breast and back at the same time. He then bared his bosom for me to return the compliment, which being done, he seemed highly pleased. The language of these people, according to our notions, scarcely deserves to be called articulate. Captain Cook has compared it to a man clearing his throat, but certainly no European ever cleared his throat with so many hoarse, guttural, and clicking sounds.

They are excellent mimics: as often as we coughed or yawned, or made any odd motion, they immediately imitated us. Some of our party began to squint and look awry; but one of the young Fuegians (whose whole face was painted black, excepting a white band across his eyes) succeeded in making far more hideous grimaces. They could repeat with perfect correctness, each word in any sentence we addressed them, and they remembered such words for some time. Yet we Europeans all know how difficult it is to distinguish apart the sounds in a foreign language. Which of us, for instance, could follow an American Indian through a sentence of more than three words? All savages appear to possess, to an uncommon degree, this power of mimicry. I was told almost in the same words, of the same ludicrous habits among the Caffres: the Australians, likewise, have long been notorious for being able to imitate and describe the gait of any man, so that he may be recognised. How can this faculty be explained? is it a consequence of the more practised habits of perception and keener senses, common to all men in a savage state, as compared to those long civilized?

When a song was struck up by our party, I thought the Fuegians would have fallen down with astonishment. With equal surprise they viewed our dancing; but one of the young men, when asked, had no objection to a little waltzing. Little accustomed to Europeans as they appeared to be, yet they knew, and dreaded our fire-arms; nothing would tempt them to take a gun in their hands. They begged for knives, calling them by the Spanish word “cuchilla.” They explained also what they wanted, by acting as if they had a piece of blubber in their mouth, and then pretending to cut instead of tear it.

It was interesting to watch the conduct of these people towards Jemmy Button (one of the Fuegians[1] who had been taken, during the former voyage, to England): they immediately perceived the difference between him and the rest, and held much conversation between themselves on the subject. The old man addressed a long harangue to Jemmy, which it seems was to invite him to stay with them. But Jemmy understood very little of their language, and was, moreover, thoroughly ashamed of his countrymen. When York Minster (another of these men) came on shore, they noticed him in the same way, and told him he ought to shave; yet he had not twenty dwarf hairs on his face, whilst we all wore our untrimmed beards. They examined the colour of his skin, and compared it with ours. One of our arms being bared, they expressed the liveliest surprise and admiration at its whiteness. We thought that they mistook two or three of the officers, who were rather shorter and fairer (though adorned with large beards), for the ladies of our party. The tallest amongst the Fuegians was evidently much pleased at his height being noticed. When placed back to back with the tallest of the boat’s crew, he tried his best to edge on higher ground, and to stand on tiptoe. He opened his mouth to show his teeth, and turned his face for a side view; and all this was done with such alacrity, that I dare say he thought himself the handsomest man in Tierra del Fuego. After the first feeling on our part of grave astonishment was over, nothing could be more ludicrous or interesting than the odd mixture of surprise and imitation which these savages every moment exhibited.

The next day I attempted to penetrate some way into the country. Tierra del Fuego may be described as a mountainous country, partly submerged in the sea, so that deep islets and bays occupy the place where valleys should exist. The mountain sides (except on the exposed western coast) are covered from the waters edge upwards by one great forest. The trees reach to an elevation of between 1000 and 1500 feet; and are succeeded by a band of peat, with minute alpine plants; and this again is succeeded by the line of perpetual snow, which, according to Captain King, in the Strait of Magellan descends to between 3000 and 4000 feet. To find an acre of level land in any part of the country is most rare. I recollect only one little flat near Port Famine, and another of rather larger extent near Goeree Road. In both these cases, and in all others, the surface was covered by a thick bed of swampy peat. Even within the forest the ground is concealed by a mass of slowly putrefying vegetable matter, which, from being soaked with water, yields to the foot.

Finding it nearly hopeless to push my way through the wood, I followed the course of a mountain torrent. At first, from the waterfalls and number of dead trees, I could hardly crawl along; but the bed of the stream soon became a little more open, from the floods having swept the sides. I continued slowly to advance for an hour along the broken and rocky banks; and was amply repaid by the grandeur of the scene. The gloomy depth of the ravine well accorded with the universal signs of violence. On every side were lying irregular masses of rock and up-torn trees; other trees, though still erect, were decayed to the heart and ready to fall. The entangled mass of the thriving and the fallen reminded me of the forests within the tropics;--yet there was a difference; for in these still solitudes, Death, instead of Life, seemed the predominant spirit. I followed the watercourse till I came to a spot where a great slip had cleared a straight space down the mountain side. By this road I ascended to a considerable elevation, and obtained a good view of the surrounding woods. The trees all belong to one kind, the Fagus betuloides, for the number of the other species of beech, and of the Winter’s bark, is quite inconsiderable. This tree keeps its leaves throughout the year; but its foliage is of a peculiar brownish-green colour, with a tinge of yellow. As the whole landscape is thus coloured, it has a sombre, dull appearance; nor is it often enlivened by the rays of the sun.

DECEMBER 20TH.--One side of the harbour is formed by a hill about 1500 feet high, which Captain FitzRoy has called after Sir J. Banks, in commemoration of his disastrous excursion, which proved fatal to two of his party, and nearly so to Dr. Solander. The snow-storm, which was the cause of their misfortune, happened in the middle of January, corresponding to our July, and in the latitude of Durham! I was anxious to reach the summit of this mountain to collect alpine plants; for flowers of any kind, in the lower part, were few in number. We followed the same watercourse as on the previous day, till it dwindled away, and then were compelled to crawl blindly among the trees. These, from the effects of the elevation, and of the impetuous winds, were low, thick, and crooked. At length we reached that which from a distance appeared like a carpet of fine green turf, but which, to our vexation, turned out to be a compact mass of little beech-trees about four or five feet high. These were as thick together as box in the border of a flower-garden, and we were obliged to struggle over the flat but treacherous surface. After a little more trouble we gained the peat, and then the bare slate rock.

A ridge connected this hill with another, distant some miles, and more lofty, so that patches of snow were lying on it. As the day was not far advanced, I determined to walk there and collect along the road. It would have been very hard work, had it not been for a well-beaten and straight path made by the guanacoes; for these animals, like sheep, always follow the same line. When we reached the hill we found it the highest in the immediate neighbourhood, and the waters flowed to the sea in opposite directions. We obtained a wide view over the surrounding country: to the northward a swampy moorland extended, but to the southward we had a scene of savage magnificence, well becoming Tierra del Fuego. There was a degree of mysterious grandeur in mountain behind mountain, with the deep intervening valleys, all covered by one thick, dusky mass of forest. The atmosphere, likewise, in this climate (where gale succeeds gale, with rain, hail, and sleet), seems blacker than anywhere else. In the Strait of Magellan looking due south from Port Famine, the distant channels between the mountains appear from their gloominess to lead beyond the confines of this world.

DECEMBER 21ST.--The Beagle got under way: and on the succeeding day, favoured to an uncommon degree by a fine easterly breeze, we closed in with the Barnevelts, and, running past Cape Deceit with its stony peaks, about three o’clock doubled the weather-beaten Cape Horn. The evening was calm and bright, and we enjoyed a fine view of the surrounding isles. Cape Horn, however, demanded his tribute, and before night sent us a gale of wind directly in our teeth. We stood out to sea, and on the second day again made the land, when we saw on our weather-bow this notorious promontory in its proper form--veiled in a mist, and its dim outline surrounded by a storm of wind and water. Great black clouds were rolling across the heavens, and squalls of rain, with hail, swept by us with extreme violence; so that the captain determined to run into Wigwam Cove. This is a snug little harbour, not far from Cape Horn; and here, at Christmas-eve, we anchored in smooth water. The only thing which reminded us of the gale outside, was every now and then a puff from the mountains, which seemed to wish to blow us out of the water.

DECEMBER 25TH.--Close by the cove, a pointed hill, called Kater’s Peak, rises to the height of 1700 feet. The surrounding islands all consist of conical masses of greenstone, associated sometimes with less regular hills of baked and altered clay-slate. This part of Tierra del Fuego may be considered as the extremity of the submerged chain of mountains already alluded to. The cove takes its name of “Wigwam” from some of the Fuegian habitations; but every bay in the neighbourhood might be so called with equal propriety. The inhabitants living chiefly upon shell-fish, are obliged constantly to change their place of residence; but they return at intervals to the same spots, as is evident from the pile of old shells, which must often amount to some tons in weight. These heaps can be distinguished at a long distance by the bright green colour of certain plants, which invariably grow on them. Among these may be enumerated the wild celery and scurvy grass, two very serviceable plants, the use of which has not been discovered by the natives.

The Fuegian wigwam resembles, in size and dimensions, a haycock. It merely consists of a few broken branches stuck in the ground, and very imperfectly thatched on one side with a few tufts of grass and rushes. The whole cannot be so much as the work of an hour, and it is only used for a few days. At Goeree Roads I saw a place where one of these naked men had slept, which absolutely offered no more cover than the form of a hare. The man was evidently living by himself, and York Minster said he was “very bad man,” and that probably he had stolen something. On the west coast, however, the wigwams are rather better, for they are covered with seal-skins. We were detained here several days by the bad weather. The climate is certainly wretched; the summer solstice was now passed, yet every day snow fell on the hills, and in the valleys there was rain, accompanied by sleet. The thermometer generally stood about 45°, but in the night fell to 38° or 40°. From the damp and boisterous state of the atmosphere, not cheered by a gleam of sunshine, one fancied the climate even worse than it really was.

At a subsequent period the Beagle anchored for a couple of days under Wollaston Island, which is a short way to the northward. While going on shore we pulled alongside a canoe with six Fuegians. These were the most abject and miserable creatures I any where beheld.[2] On the east coast the natives, as we have seen, have guanaco cloaks, and on the west, they possess seal-skins. Amongst these central tribes the men generally possess an otter-skin, or some small scrap about as large as a pocket-handkerchief, which is barely sufficient to cover their backs as low down as their loins. It is laced across the breast by strings, and according as the wind blows, it is shifted from side to side. But these Fuegians in the canoe were quite naked, and even one full-grown woman was absolutely so. It was raining heavily, and the fresh water, together with the spray, trickled down her body. In another harbour not far distant, a woman, who was suckling a recently-born child, came one day alongside the vessel, and remained there whilst the sleet fell and thawed on her naked bosom, and on the skin of her naked child. These poor wretches were stunted in their growth, their hideous faces bedaubed with white paint, their skins filthy and greasy, their hair entangled, their voices discordant, their gestures violent and without dignity. Viewing such men, one can hardly make oneself believe they are fellow-creatures, and inhabitants of the same world. It is a common subject of conjecture what pleasure in life some of the less gifted animals can enjoy: how much more reasonably the same question may be asked with respect to these barbarians. At night, five or six human beings, naked and scarcely protected from the wind and rain of this tempestuous climate, sleep on the wet ground coiled up like animals. Whenever it is low water, they must rise to pick shell-fish from the rocks; and the women, winter and summer, either dive to collect sea-eggs, or sit patiently in their canoes, and, with a baited hair-line, jerk out small fish. If a seal is killed, or the floating carcass of a putrid whale discovered, it is a feast: such miserable food is assisted by a few tasteless berries and fungi. Nor are they exempt from famine, and, as a consequence, cannibalism accompanied by parricide.

The tribes have no government or head, yet each is surrounded by other hostile ones, speaking different dialects; and the cause of their warfare would appear to be the means of subsistence. Their country is a broken mass of wild rock, lofty hills, and useless forests: and these are viewed through mists and endless storms. The habitable land is reduced to the stones which form the beach; in search of food they are compelled to wander from spot to spot, and so steep is the coast, that they can only move about in their wretched canoes. They cannot know the feeling of having a home, and still less that of domestic affection; unless indeed the treatment of a master to a laborious slave can be considered as such. How little can the higher powers of the mind be brought into play! What is there for imagination to picture, for reason to compare, for judgment to decide upon? to knock a limpet from the rock does not even require cunning, that lowest power of the mind. Their skill in some respects may be compared to the instinct of animals; for it is not improved by experience: the canoe, their most ingenious work, poor as it is, has remained the same, for the last two hundred and fifty years.

Whilst beholding these savages, one asks, whence have they come? What could have tempted, or what change compelled a tribe of men to leave the fine regions of the north, to travel down the Cordillera or backbone of America, to invent and build canoes, and then to enter on one of the most inhospitable countries within the limits of the globe? Although such reflections must at first occupy one’s mind, yet we may feel sure that many of them are quite erroneous. There is no reason to believe that the Fuegians decrease in number; therefore we must suppose that they enjoy a sufficient share of happiness (of whatever kind it may be) to render life worth having. Nature by making habit omnipotent, and its effects hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian to the climate and the productions of his country.

JANUARY 15TH, 1833.--The Beagle anchored in Goeree Roads. Captain FitzRoy having determined to settle the Fuegians, according to their wishes, in Ponsonby Sound, four boats were equipped to carry them there through the Beagle channel. This channel which was discovered by Captain FitzRoy during the last voyage, is a most remarkable feature in the geography of this, or indeed of any other country. Its length is about 120 miles with an average breadth, not subject to any very great variations, of about two miles. It is throughout the greater part so extremely straight, that the view, bounded on each side by a line of mountains, gradually becomes indistinct in the perspective. This arm of the sea may be compared to the valley of Lochness in Scotland, with its chain of lakes and entering friths. At some future epoch the resemblance perhaps will become complete. Already in one part we have proofs of a rising of the land in a line of cliff, or terrace, composed of coarse sandstone, mud, and shingle, which forms both shores. The Beagle channel crosses the southern part of Tierra del Fuego in an east and west line; in its middle, it is joined on the south side by an irregular channel at right angles to it, which has been called Ponsonby Sound. This is the residence of Jemmy Button’s tribe and family.

JANUARY 19TH.--Three whale-boats and the yawl, with a party of twenty-eight, started under the command of Captain FitzRoy. In the afternoon we entered the eastern mouth of the channel, and shortly afterwards found a snug little cove, concealed by some surrounding islets. Here we pitched our tents, and lighted our fires. Nothing could look more comfortable than this scene. The glassy water of the little harbour, with the trees sending their branches over the rocky beach, the boats at anchor, the tents supported by the crossed oars, and the smoke curling up the wooded valley, formed a picture of quiet retirement. The next day (20th) we smoothly glided onwards in our little fleet, and came to a more inhabited district. Few if any of these natives could ever have seen a white man; certainly nothing could exceed their astonishment at the apparition of the four boats. Fires were lighted on every point (hence the name of the land), both to attract our attention, and to spread far and wide the news. Some of the men ran for miles along the shore. As we passed under one cliff, four or five men suddenly appeared above us, forming the most wild and savage group that can be imagined. They were absolutely naked, with long streaming hair, and with rugged staffs in their hands: springing from the ground they waved their arms around their heads, and sent forth the most hideous yells.

At dinner-time we landed among a party of Fuegians. At first they were not inclined to be friendly; for until the captain pulled in ahead of the other boats, they kept their slings in their hands. We soon, however, delighted them by trifling presents, such as tying red tape round their heads. It was as easy to please, as it was difficult to satisfy these savages. Young and old, men and children, never ceased repeating the word “yammerschooner,” which means “give me.” After pointing to almost every object, one after the other, even to the buttons on our coats, and saying their favourite word in as many intonations as possible, they would then use it in a neuter sense, and vacantly repeat “yammerschooner.” After yammerschoonering for any article very eagerly, they would by a simple artifice point to their young women or little children, as much as to say, “If you will not give it me, surely you will to such as these?”

At night we endeavoured in vain to find an uninhabited cove; and at last were obliged to bivouac not far from a party of natives. They were very inoffensive as long as they were few in numbers, but in the morning (21st) being joined by others they showed symptoms of hostility. An European labours under great disadvantages, when treating with savages like these, who have not the least idea of the power of fire-arms. In the very act of levelling his musket, he appears to the savage far inferior to a man armed with a bow and arrow, a spear, or even a sling. Nor is it easy to teach them our superiority except by striking a fatal blow. Like wild beasts they do not appear in all cases to compare numbers; for each individual if attacked, instead of retiring, will endeavour to dash your brains out with a stone, as certainly as a tiger under similar circumstances would tear you. Captain FitzRoy on one occasion, being very anxious from good reasons to frighten away a small party, twice fired his pistol close by the side of a native. The man both times looked astounded, and carefully but quickly rubbed his head; he then stared awhile, and gabbled to his companions; but he never seemed to think of running away. We can hardly put ourselves in the position of these savages, to understand their actions. In the case of the Fuegian, the possibility of such a sound as the report of a gun close to his ear, could never have entered his mind. He perhaps literally did not for a second know whether it was a sound or a blow, and therefore very naturally rubbed his head. In a similar manner, when a savage sees a mark struck by a bullet, it may be some time before he is able at all to understand how it is effected; for the fact of a body being invisible from its velocity, would perhaps be to him an idea totally inconceivable. Moreover, the extreme force of a bullet, that penetrates a hard substance without tearing it, may convince the savage that it has no force at all. Certainly I believe that many savages of the lowest grade, such as these of Tierra del Fuego, have seen objects struck, and even small animals killed by the musket, without being in the least aware how deadly an instrument it was.

22D.--After having passed an unmolested night, in what would appear to be neutral territory, between Jemmy’s tribe and the people we saw yesterday, we sailed pleasantly along. The scenery in this part had a peculiar and very magnificent character; although the effect was lessened from the lowness of the point of view in a boat, and from looking down the valley and hence losing all the beauty of a succession of ridges. The mountains attained an elevation of about 3000 feet, and were terminated by sharp and jagged points. They rose in one unbroken sweep from the water’s edge, and were covered to the height of fourteen or fifteen hundred feet by the dusky-coloured forest. It was most curious to observe, how level and truly horizontal the line on the mountain side was, as far as the eye could range, at which trees ceased to grow. It precisely resembled the high-water mark of drift weed on a sea-beach.

At night we slept close to the junction of Ponsonby Sound with the Beagle channel. A small family of Fuegians, who were living in the cove, were very quiet and inoffensive, and soon joined our party round the blazing fire. We were well clothed, and though sitting close to the fire, were far from too warm; yet these naked savages, though further off, were observed to our great surprise, to be streaming with perspiration at undergoing such a roasting. They seemed, however, very well pleased, and all joined in the chorus of the seamen’s songs: but the manner in which they were invariably a little behindhand was quite ludicrous.

During the night the news had spread, and early in the morning (23d) a fresh party arrived. Several of them had run so fast that their noses were bleeding, and their mouths frothed from the rapidity with which they talked, and with their naked bodies all bedaubed with black, white, and red, they looked like so many demoniacs who had been fighting. We then proceeded down Ponsonby Sound to the spot where poor Jemmy expected to find his mother and relations. We staid there five days. Captain FitzRoy has given an account of all the interesting events which there happened.

During the succeeding year we paid another visit to the Fuegians, and the Beagle herself followed the same course which I have just described as having been taken in the boats. I was amused by finding what a difference the circumstance of being quite superior in force made, in the interest of beholding these savages. While in the boats I got to hate the very sound of their voices, so much trouble did they give us. The first and last word was “yammerschooner.” When, entering some quiet little cove, we have looked round and thought to pass a quiet night, the odious word “yammerschooner” has shrilly sounded from some gloomy nook, and then the little signal smoke has curled upwards to spread the news. On leaving some place we have said to each other, “Thank Heaven, we have at last fairly left these wretches!” when one more faint halloo from an all-powerful voice, heard at a prodigious distance, would reach our ears, and clearly could we distinguish--“yammerschooner.” But on the latter occasion, the more Fuegians the merrier; and very merry work it was. Both parties laughing, wondering, gaping at each other; we pitying them, for giving us good fish and crabs for rags, &c.; they grasping at the chance of finding people so foolish as to exchange such splendid ornaments for a good supper. It was most amusing to see the undisguised smile of satisfaction with which one young woman, with her face painted black, tied with rushes several bits of scarlet cloth round her head. Her husband, who enjoyed the very universal privilege in this country of possessing two wives, evidently became jealous of all the attention paid to his young wife; and, after a consultation with his naked beauties, was paddled away by them.

Some of the Fuegians plainly showed that they had a fair idea of barter. I gave one man a large nail (a most valuable present) without making any signs for a return; but he immediately picked out two fish, and handed them up on the point of his spear. If any present was designed for one canoe, and it fell near another, it was invariably given to the right owner. We were always much surprised at the little notice, or rather none whatever, which was evinced respecting many things, even such as boats, the use of which must have been evident. Simple circumstances,--such as the whiteness of our skins, the beauty of scarlet cloth or blue beads, the absence of women, our care in washing ourselves,--excited their admiration far more than any grand or complicated object, such as the ship. Bougainville has remarked concerning these very people that they treat the “chef d’œuvres de l’industrie humaine, comme ils traitent les loix de la nature et ses phénomènes.”

The perfect equality among the individuals composing these tribes, must for a long time retard their civilization. As we see those animals, whose instinct compels them to live in society and obey a chief, are most capable of improvement, so is it with the races of mankind. Whether we look at it as a cause or a consequence, the more civilized always have the most artificial governments. For instance, the inhabitants of Otaheite, who, when first discovered, were governed by hereditary kings, had arrived at a far higher grade than another branch of the same people, the New Zealanders,--who although benefited by being compelled to turn their attention to agriculture, were republicans in the most absolute sense. In Tierra del Fuego, until some chief shall arise with power sufficient to secure any acquired advantages, such as the domesticated animals or other valuable presents, it seems scarcely possible that the political state of the country can be improved. At present, even a piece of cloth is torn into shreds and distributed; and no one individual becomes richer than another. On the other hand, it is difficult to understand how a chief can arise till there is property of some sort by which he might manifest and still increase his authority.

JANUARY 28TH.--In the evening, Captain FitzRoy sent two boats back to the ship from Ponsonby Sound, and with the two others proceeded to survey the western end of the Beagle channel. The view in this central part was very remarkable. Looking towards either hand, no object intercepted the vanishing points of this long canal of the mountains. The circumstance of its being an arm of the sea was rendered very evident by several huge whales spouting in different directions. On one occasion I saw two of these monsters, probably male and female, slowly swimming one after the other, within less than a stone’s throw of the shore, over which the beech extended its branches.

We sailed on till it was dark, and then pitched our tents in a quiet creek. The greatest luxury here is to find a beach of pebbles, for they are both dry and yield to the body. The peaty soil is damp; rock is uneven and hard; sand gets into one’s meat, when cooked and eaten boat-fashion; but when lying in our blanket bags, on a good bed of smooth pebbles, we passed most comfortable nights.

It was my watch till one o’clock. There is something very solemn in these scenes. At no time does the consciousness in what a remote corner of the world you are then buried, come so strongly before your mind. Every thing tends to this effect; the stillness of the night is interrupted only by the heavy breathing of the seamen beneath the tents, and sometimes by the cry of a night bird. The occasional barking also of a dog, heard in the distance, reminds one that it is the land of the savage.

29TH.--Early in the morning we arrived at the point where the Beagle channel divides itself into two arms; and we entered the northern one. The scenery here becomes even grander than before. The lofty mountains on the north side compose the granitic axis, or backbone of the whole country. They were covered by a wide mantle of perpetual snow, and numerous cascades poured their waters, through the woods, into the narrow channel below. In many parts magnificent glaciers extended from the mountain side to the water’s edge. It is scarcely possible to imagine any thing more beautiful than the beryl-like blue of the glacier, and especially when contrasted with the dead white of an expanse of snow. As fragments fell from the glacier into the water, they floated away, and the channel with its icebergs represented in miniature the polar sea. When we reached the western mouth of this branch of the channel, we sailed amongst many unknown islands, and then proceeded by the outer coast to the entrance of the other arm. Thence we returned to Ponsonby Sound, saw the Fuegians, and arrived at the ship after our twenty-days’ excursion.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Captain FitzRoy has given a history of these people. Four were taken to England; one died there, and the three others (two men and one woman) were now brought back and settled in their own country.

[2] I believe, in this extreme part of South America, man exists in a lower state of improvement than in any other part of the world. The South Sea islander of either race is comparatively civilized. The Esquimaux, in his subterranean hut, enjoys some of the comforts of life, and in his canoe, when fully equipped, manifests much skill. Some of the tribes of Southern Africa, prowling about in search of roots, and living concealed on the wild and arid plains, are sufficiently wretched. But the Australian, in the simplicity of the arts of life, comes nearest the Fuegian. He can, however, boast of his boomerang, his spear and throwing-stick, his method of climbing trees, tracking animals, and scheme of hunting. Although thus superior in acquirements, it by no means follows that he should likewise be so in capabilities. Indeed, from what we saw of the Fuegians, who were taken to England, I should think the case was the reverse.

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Chapter XII

Falkland Islands--Excursion round island--Aspect--Cattle, horses, rabbit, wolf-like fox--Fire made of bones--Art in making fire --Manner of hunting wild cattle--Geology, fossil shells--Valleys filled with great fragments, scenes of violence--Penguin--Geese --Eggs of doris--Zoophytes, coralline phosphorescent--Compound animals.

FALKLAND ISLANDS.

MARCH 16TH, 1834.--The Beagle anchored in Berkeley Sound, in East Falkland Island.[1] This archipelago is situated in nearly the same latitude as the mouth of the Strait of Magellan. It covers a space of about 120 by 60 geographical miles, and is a little more than half the size of Ireland. After the possession of these miserable islands had been contested by France, Spain, and England, they were left uninhabited. The government of Buenos Ayres then sold them to a private individual, but likewise used them, as old Spain had done before, for a penal settlement. England claimed her right and seized them. The Englishman who was left in charge of the flag was consequently murdered. A British officer was next sent, unsupported by any power: and when we arrived, we found him in charge of a population, of which rather more than half were runaway rebels and murderers.

The theatre is worthy of the scenes acted on it. An undulating land, with a desolate and wretched aspect, is every where covered by a peaty soil and wiry grass, of one monotonous brown colour. Here and there a peak or ridge of gray quartz rock, breaks through the smooth surface. Every one has heard of the climate of these regions; it may be compared to that which is experienced at the height of between one and two thousand feet, on the mountains of North Wales; having however less sunshine and less frosty but more wind and rain.

MARCH 16TH.--I will now describe a short excursion which I made round a part of this island. In the morning I started with six horses and two Gauchos: the latter were capital men for the purpose, and well accustomed to living on their own resources. The weather was very boisterous and cold, with heavy hailstorms. We got on, however, pretty well; but excepting in the geology, nothing could be less interesting than our day’s ride. The country is uniformly the same undulating moorland; the surface being covered by light brown withered grass and a few very small shrubs, all springing out of an elastic peaty soil. In the valleys here and there might be seen a small flock of wild geese, and every where the ground was so soft, that the snipe was able to feed. Besides these two kinds of birds, there were few others. There is one main range of hills, nearly two thousand feet in height, and composed of quartz rock, the rugged and barren crests of which gave us some trouble to cross. On the south side we came to the best country for wild cattle; we met however no great number, for they had lately been much harassed.

In the evening we came across a small herd. One of my companions, St. Jago by name, soon separated a fat cow; he threw the bolas, and it struck her legs, but failed in becoming entangled. Then dropping his hat to mark the spot where the balls were left, while at full gallop he uncoiled his lazo, and after a most severe chase, again came up to the cow, and caught her round the horns. The other Gaucho had gone on ahead with the horses, so that St. Jago had some difficulty in killing the furious beast. He managed to get her on a level piece of ground, by taking advantage of her as often as she rushed at him; and when she would not move, my horse, from having been trained, would canter up, and with his chest give her a violent push. But when on level ground it does not appear an easy job for one man to kill a beast mad with terror. Nor would it be so, if the horse, when left to itself without its rider, did not soon learn, for its own safety, to keep the lazo tight; so that, if the animal moves forward, the horse moves just as quickly so much away; otherwise, it stands motionless leaning on one side. This horse, however, was a young one, and would not stand still, but gave in to the cow as she struggled. It was admirable to see with what dexterity St. Jago dodged behind the beast, till at last he contrived to give the fatal touch to the main tendon of the hind leg; after which, driving his knife into the head of the spinal marrow, the cow dropped as if struck by lightning. He cut off pieces of flesh with the skin to it, but without any bones, sufficient for our expedition. We then rode on to our sleeping-place, and had for supper “carne con cuero,” or meat roasted with the skin on it. This is as superior to common beef, as venison is to mutton. A large circular piece taken from the back, is roasted on the embers with the hide downwards and in the form of a saucer, so that none of the gravy is lost. If any worthy alderman had supped with us that evening, “carne con cuero,” without doubt, would soon have been celebrated in London.

During the night it rained, and the next day (17th) was very stormy, with much hail and snow. We rode across the island to the neck of land which joins the Rincon del Toro (the great peninsula at the S.W. extremity) to the rest of the island. From the greater number of cows which have been killed, there is a large proportion of bulls. These wander about by twos and threes, or by themselves, and are very savage. I never saw such magnificent beasts; they truly resembled the ancient sculptures, in which the size of the neck and head is but seldom equalled among tame animals. The young bulls ran away for a short distance, but the old ones did not stir a step, except to rush at man and horse; and many of the latter have thus been killed. One old bull crossed a boggy stream, and took up his stand on the opposite side to us. We in vain tried to drive him away, and failing, were obliged to make a large circuit. The Gauchos in revenge determined to render him for the future innocuous. It was very interesting to see how art completely mastered force. One lazo was thrown over his horns, as he rushed at the horse, and another round his hind legs: in a minute the monster was stretched harmless on the ground. After the lazo has once been tightly drawn round the horns of a furious animal, it does not at first appear an easy thing to disengage it again; nor, I apprehend, would it be so, if the man was by himself, and he did not wish to kill the beast. By the aid, however, of a second person throwing his lazo, so as to catch both hind legs, it is quickly managed: for the animal, as long as its hind legs are kept outstretched, is quite powerless, and the first man can with his hands loosen his lazo, and then quietly mount his horse; but the moment the second man, by backing ever so little, relaxes the strain, the lazo slips off the legs of the struggling beast, which thus rises free, shakes himself, and vainly rushes after his antagonist.

During our whole ride we only saw one troop of wild horses. These animals, as well as the cattle, were introduced by the French in 1764, since which time they have greatly increased. It is a curious fact, that the horses have never left the eastern end of the island, although there is no natural boundary to prevent them from roaming, and that part of the island is not more tempting than the rest. The Gauchos, though asserting this to be the case, are unable to account for the circumstance. The horses appear to thrive well, yet they are small sized, and have lost so much strength, that they are unfit to be used in taking wild cattle with the lazo. In consequence, it is necessary to go to the great expense of importing fresh horses from the Plata. At some future period the southern hemisphere probably will have its breed of Falkland ponies, as the northern has that of Shetland.

The rabbit is another animal which has been introduced, and has succeeded very well; so that they abound over large parts of the island. Yet, like the horses, they are confined within certain limits; for they have not crossed the central chain of hills; nor would they have extended even so far as the base, if, as the Gauchos informed me, small colonies had not been carried there. I should not have supposed that these animals, natives of northern Africa, could have existed in a climate so extremely humid as this, and which enjoys so little sunshine that even wheat ripens only occasionally. It is asserted that in Sweden, which any one would have thought a more favourable climate, the rabbit cannot live out of doors. The first few pair moreover had here to contend against pre-existing enemies, in the fox, and some large hawks. The French naturalists have considered the black variety a distinct species, and called it Lepus Magellanicus.[2] They imagined that Magellan, when talking of an animal under the name of “conejos,” in the Strait of Magellan, referred to this species; but he was alluding to a small cavy, which to this day is thus called. The Gauchos laughed at the idea of the black kind being different from the gray, and they said that at all events it had not extended its range any further than the other; that the two were never found separate; and that they readily bred together, and produced piebald offspring. Of the latter I now possess a specimen, and it is marked about the head, differently from the French specific description. This circumstance shows how cautious naturalists should be in making species; for even Cuvier, on looking at the skull of one of these rabbits, thought it was probably distinct.

The only quadruped native to the island, is a large wolf-like fox,[3] which is common to both East and West Falkland. I have no doubt it is a peculiar species, and confined to this archipelago; because many sealers, Gauchos, and Indians, who have visited these islands, all maintain that no such animal is found in any part of South America. Molina, from a similarity in habits, thought this was the same with his “culpeu;”[4] but I have seen both, and they are quite distinct. These wolves are well known, from Byron’s account of their tameness and curiosity; which the sailors, who ran into the water to avoid them, mistook for fierceness. To this day their manners remain the same. They have been observed to enter a tent, and actually pull some meat from beneath the head of a sleeping seaman. The Gauchos, also, have frequently killed them in the evening, by holding out a piece of meat in one hand, and in the other a knife ready to stick them. As far as I am aware, there is no other instance in any part of the world, of so small a mass of broken land, distant from a continent, possessing so large a quadruped peculiar to itself. Their numbers have rapidly decreased; they are already banished from that half of the island which lies to the eastward of the neck of land between St. Salvador Bay and Berkeley Sound. Within a very few years after these islands shall have become regularly settled, in all probability this fox will be classed with the dodo, as an animal which has perished from the face of the earth. Mr. Lowe, an intelligent person who has long been acquainted with these islands, assured me, that all the foxes from the western island were smaller and of a redder colour than those from the eastern. In the four specimens which were brought to England in the Beagle[5] there was some variation, but the difference with respect to the islands could not be perceived. At the same time the fact is far from improbable.

At night (17th) we slept on the neck of land which forms the south-west peninsula. The valley was pretty well sheltered from the cold wind; but there was very little brushwood for fuel. The Gauchos, however, soon found what, to my great surprise, made nearly as hot a fire as coals; this was the skeleton of a bullock lately killed, from which the flesh had been picked by the Caracaras. They told me that in winter they had often killed a beast, cleaned the flesh from the bones with their knives, and then with these same bones roasted the meat for their suppers.

18TH.--It rained during nearly the whole day. At night we managed, however, with our saddle-cloths, to keep ourselves pretty well dry and warm; but the ground on which we slept was on each occasion nearly in the state of a bog, and there was not a dry spot to sit down on after our day’s ride. I have in another part stated how singular it is that trees should be entirely absent from these islands, while they cover the whole surface of Tierra del Fuego. The largest bush in the island (belonging to the family of Compositæ) is scarcely so tall as our gorze. The best fuel is afforded by a green little bush, about the size of common heath, which has the useful property of burning while fresh and green. It was very surprising to see the Gauchos, in the midst of rain, and every thing soaking wet, with nothing more than a tinder-box and piece of rag, immediately make a fire. They sought beneath the tufts of grass and bushes for a few dry twigs, and these they rubbed into fibres; then surrounding them with coarser twigs, something like a bird’s nest, they put the rag with its spark of fire in the middle, and covered it up. The nest being then held up to the wind, by degrees it smoked more and more, and at last burst out in flames. I do not think any other method would have had a chance of succeeding with such damp materials.

19TH.--Each morning, from not having ridden for some time previously, I was very stiff. I was surprised to hear the Gauchos, who have from infancy almost lived on horseback, say that, under similar circumstances, they always suffer. St. Jago told me, that having been confined for three months by illness, he went out hunting wild cattle, and in consequence, for the next two days, his thighs were so stiff that he was obliged to lie in bed. This shows that the Gauchos, although they do not appear to do so, yet really must exert much muscular effort in riding. The hunting wild cattle, in a country so difficult to pass as this is on account of the swampy ground, must be very hard work. The Gauchos say they often pass at full speed over ground which would be impassable at a slower pace; in the same manner as a man is able to skate across thin ice. When hunting, the party endeavours to get as close as possible to the herd without being discovered. Each man carries four or five pair of the bolas; these he throws one after the other at as many cattle, which, when once entangled, are left for some days, till they become a little exhausted by hunger and struggling. They are then let free and driven towards a small herd of tame animals, which have been brought to the spot on purpose. From their previous treatment, being too much terrified to leave the herd, they are easily driven, if their strength lasts out, to the settlement.

The weather continued so very bad, that we determined to make a push, and try to reach the vessel before night. From the quantity of rain which had fallen, the surface of the whole country was swampy. I suppose my horse fell at least a dozen times, and sometimes the whole six were floundering in the mud together. All the little streams are bordered by soft peat, which makes it very difficult for the horses to leap them without falling. To complete our discomforts, we were obliged to cross the head of a creek, in which the water was as high as the backs of the horses, and the little waves, owing to the violence of the wind, broke over us, and made us very wet and cold. Even the iron-framed Gauchos professed themselves glad when they reached the settlement, after our little excursion.

The geological structure of these islands is in most respects simple. The lower country consists of clay-slate and sandstone associated together, and the hills of white granular quartz rock. The strata of the latter are frequently arched with perfect symmetry, and the appearance of some of the masses is in consequence most singular. Pernety[6] has devoted several pages to the description of a hill of ruins, the successive strata of which he has justly compared to the seats of an amphitheatre. The quartz rock must have been quite pasty when it underwent such remarkable flexure without being shattered into fragments. As a passage between the quartz and the sandstone can be traced, it seems probable that the former owes its origin to the sandstone having been heated to such an excess, that it became viscid, and upon cooling crystallized. While in the soft state it must have been pushed up through the overlying beds.

The sandstone and clay-slate contain numerous casts of organic remains. These chiefly consist of shells allied to terebratula, of encrinites, of a branching coral divided into alternate compartments, and lastly, of an obscure impression of the lobes of a trilobite. These fossils possess great interest, because none hitherto have been brought to Europe from a latitude nearly so far south. Mr. Murchison, who had the kindness to look at my specimens, says that they have a close general resemblance to those belonging to the lower division of his Silurian system; and Mr. James Sowerby is of opinion that some of the species are identical. This would be a most remarkable circumstance in the ancient natural history of the world; for shells now living in latitude 50° on opposite sides of the equator, are totally distinct. From the similarity of the Falkland fossils with those in England which are associated with remains that indicate a climate of a tropical character, we may I presume infer that, during this same epoch, nearly the whole world was thus circumstanced.

In many parts of the island, the bottoms of the valleys are covered in an extraordinary manner, by myriads of great angular fragments of the quartz rock. These have been mentioned with surprise by every voyager since the time of Pernety. The whole may be called “a stream of stones.” The blocks vary in size, from that of a man’s chest to ten or twenty times as large, and occasionally they altogether exceed such measures. Their edges show no signs of being water-worn, but are only a little blunted. They do not occur thrown together in irregular piles, but are spread out into level sheets, or great streams. It is not possible to ascertain their thickness, but the water of small streamlets could be heard trickling through the stones many feet below the surface. The actual depth is probably much greater, because the crevices between the lower fragments must long ago have been filled up with sand, and the bed of the rivulet thus raised. The width of these beds varies from a few hundred feet to a mile; but the peaty soil daily encroaches on the borders, and even forms islets wherever a few fragments happen to lie close together. In a valley south of Berkeley Sound, which some of our party called the “great valley of fragments,” it was necessary to cross an uninterrupted band half a mile wide, by jumping from one pointed stone to another. So large were the fragments, that being overtaken by a shower of rain, I readily found good shelter beneath one of them.

Their little inclination is the most remarkable circumstance in these “streams of stones.” On the hill-sides I have seen them sloping at an angle of ten degrees with the horizon; but in some of the level, broad-bottomed valleys, the inclination is only just sufficient to be clearly perceived. On so rugged a surface there was no means of measuring the angle; but to give a common illustration, I may say that the slope alone would not have checked the speed of an English mail-coach. In some places, a continuous stream of these fragments followed up the course of a valley, and even extended to the very crest of the hill. On these crests huge masses, exceeding in dimensions any small building, seemed to stand arrested in their headlong course: there, also, the curved strata of the archways lay piled over each other, like the ruins of some vast and ancient cathedral. In endeavouring to describe these scenes of violence, one is tempted to pass from one simile to another. We may imagine, that streams of white lava had flowed from many parts of the mountains into the lower country, and that, when consolidated, they had been rent by some enormous convulsion into myriads of fragments. The expression, “streams of stones,” which immediately occurred to every one, conveyed the same idea. These scenes are, on the spot, rendered more striking, by the contrast of the low, rounded forms of the neighbouring hills.

I was much interested by finding on the highest peak of one range (about 700 feet above the sea) a great arched fragment, lying on its convex or upper surface. Must we believe that it was fairly pitched up in the air, and thus turned? Or, with more probability, that there existed formerly a part of the same range more elevated than the point on which this monument of a great convulsion of nature now lies. As the fragments in the valleys are neither rounded nor the crevices filled up with sand, we must infer that the period of violence was subsequent to the land having been raised above the waters of the sea. In a transverse section within these valleys the bottom is nearly level, or rises but very little towards either side. Hence the fragments appear to have travelled from the head of the valley; but in reality it seems most probable, either that they have been hurled down from the nearest slopes, or that masses of rock were broken up in the position they formerly occupied; and that since, by a vibratory movement of overwhelming force,[7] the fragments have been levelled into one continuous sheet. If during the earthquake[8] which in 1835 overthrew Concepcion, in Chile, it was thought wonderful that small bodies should have been pitched a few inches from the ground, what must we say to a movement which has caused fragments, many tons in weight (like so much sand on a vibrating board), to move onwards and find their level? I have seen, in the Cordillera of the Andes, the evident marks where stupendous mountains have been broken into pieces like so much thin crust, and the strata thrown on their vertical edges; but never did any scene, like the “streams of stones,” so forcibly convey to my mind the idea of a convulsion of which in historical records we might in vain seek for any counterpart.

I have little to remark on the zoology of these islands. I have before described the Polyborus or Caracara. There are some other hawks, owls, and a few small land-birds. The waterfowl[9] are particularly numerous, and they must formerly, from the accounts of old navigators, have been much more so. One day, having placed myself between a penguin (Aptenodytes demersa) and the water, I was much amused by watching its habits. It was a brave bird; and till reaching the sea, it regularly fought and drove me backwards. Nothing less than heavy blows would have stopped him; every inch gained he firmly kept, standing close before me, erect and determined. When thus opposed he continually rolled his head from side to side, in a very odd manner, as if the power of distinct vision only lay in the anterior and basal part of each eye. This bird is commonly called the jackass penguin, from its habit, while on shore, of throwing its head backwards, and making a loud strange noise, very like the braying of that animal; but while at sea, and undisturbed, its note is very deep and solemn, and is often heard in the night-time. In diving, its little plumeless wings are used as fins; but on the land, as front legs. When crawling (it may be said on four legs) through the tussocks, or on the side of a grassy cliff, it moved so very quickly that it might readily have been mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea and fishing, it comes to the surface, for the purpose of breathing, with such a spring, and dives again so instantaneously, that I defy any one at first sight to be sure that it is not a fish leaping for sport.

Two kinds of geese frequent the Falklands. The upland species (Anas leucoptera) is common in pairs, and in small flocks, throughout the island. They do not migrate, but build on the small outlying islets. This is supposed to be from fear of the foxes: and it is perhaps from the same cause that these birds, though very tame by day, are shy and wild in the dusk of the evening. They live entirely on vegetable matter. The rock-goose, so called from living exclusively on the sea-beach (Anas antarctica), is common both here and on the west coast of America, as far north as Chile. In the deep and retired channels of Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably accompanied by his darker consort, and standing close by each other on some distant rocky point, is a common feature in the landscape.

In these islands a great loggerheaded duck or goose (Anas brachyptera), which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds, is very abundant. These birds were in former days called, from their extraordinary manner of paddling and splashing upon the water, race-horses; but now they are named, much more appropriately, steamers. Their wings are too small and weak to allow of flight, but by their aid, partly swimming and partly flapping the surface of the water, they move very quickly. The manner is something like that by which the common house-duck escapes when pursued by a dog; but I am nearly sure that the steamer moves its wings alternately, instead of both together, as in other birds. These clumsy, loggerheaded ducks make such a noise and splashing, that the effect is exceedingly curious.

Thus we find in South America three birds, which use their wings for other purposes besides flight: the penguin as fins, the steamer as paddles, and the ostrich as sails to a vessel. The steamer is able to dive only a very short distance. It feeds entirely on shell-fish from the kelp and tidal rocks; hence the beak and head, for the purpose of breaking them, are surprisingly heavy and strong. So strong is the head, that I have scarcely been able to fracture it with my geological hammer; and all our sportsmen soon discovered how tenacious these birds were of life. When pluming themselves in the evening in a flock, they make the same odd mixture of sounds which bullfrogs do within the Tropics.

In Tierra del Fuego, as well as at the Falkland Islands, I made many observations on the lower marine animals,[10] but they are of little general interest. I will only mention one class of facts, relating to certain zoophytes in the more highly organized division of that class. Several genera (flustra, eschara, cellaria, crisia, and others) agree in having singular moveable organs, like those of Flustra avicularia (found in the European seas), attached to their cells. The organ, in the greater number of cases, very closely resembles the head of a vulture; but the lower mandible can be opened much wider, so as to form even a straight line with the upper. The head itself possesses considerable powers of movement, by means of a short neck. In one zoophyte the head itself was fixed, but the lower jaw free: in another it was replaced by a triangular hood, with a beautifully-fitted trap-door, which evidently answered to the lower mandible. A species of stony eschara had a structure somewhat similar. In the greater number of species, each shell was provided with one head, but in others each had two.

The young cells at the end of the branches necessarily contained quite immature polypi, yet the vulture-heads attached to them, though small, were in every respect perfect. When the polypus was removed by a needle from any of the cells, these organs did not appear in the least affected. When one of the latter was cut off from a cell, the lower mandible retained its power of opening and closing. Perhaps the most singular part of their structure is, that when there were more rows of cells than two, both in a Flustra and an Eschara, the central cells were furnished with these appendages, of only one-fourth the size of the lateral ones. Their movements varied according to the species:--in some I never saw the least motion; while others, with the lower mandible generally wide open, oscillated backwards and forwards at the rate of about five seconds each turn; others moved rapidly and by starts. When touched with a needle the beak generally seized the point so firmly, that the whole branch might be shaken.

These bodies have no relation whatever with the production of the gemmules. I could not trace any connexion between them and the polypus. From their formation being completed before that of the latter; from the independence of their movements; from the difference of their size in different parts of the branch; I have little doubt that in their functions they are related rather to the axis than to any of the polypi. In a similar manner, the fleshy appendage at the extremity of the sea-pen forms part of the zoophyte as a whole, as much as the roots of a tree do of the whole and not of the individual buds. Without doubt this is a very curious variation in the structure of a zoophyte: for the growing part in most other cases does not manifest the least irritability or power of movement.

I will mention one other kind of structure quite as anomalous. A small and elegant Crisia is furnished, at the corner of each cell, with a long and slightly-curved bristle, which is fixed at the lower end by a joint. It terminates in the finest point, and has its outer or convex side serrated with delicate teeth or notches. Having placed a small piece of a branch under the microscope, I was exceedingly surprised to see it suddenly start from the field of vision by the movement of these bristles, which acted as oars. Irritation generally produced this motion, but not always. When the coralline was laid flat on that side from which the toothed bristles projected, they were necessarily all pressed together and entangled. This scarcely ever failed to excite a considerable movement among them, and evidently with the object of freeing themselves. In a small piece, which was taken out of water and placed on blotting-paper, the movement of these organs was clearly visible for a few seconds by the naked eye.

In the case of the vulture-heads, as well as in that of the bristles, all that were on one side of a branch, moved sometimes coinstantaneously, sometimes in regular order one after the other; at other times the organs on both sides the branch moved together; but generally all were independent of each other, and entirely so of the polypi. In the Crisia, if the bristles were excited to move by irritation in any one branch, generally the whole zoophyte was affected. In the instance where the branch started from the simultaneous movement of these appendages, we see as perfect a transmission of will as in a single animal. The case, indeed, is not different from that of the sea-pen, which when touched drew itself into the sand. I will state one other instance of uniform action, though of a very different nature, in a zoophyte[11] closely allied to Clytia, and therefore very simply organized. Having kept a large tuft of it in a basin of salt water, when it was dark I found that as often as I rubbed any part of a branch, the whole became strongly phosphorescent with a green light: I do not think I ever saw any object more beautifully so. But the remarkable circumstance was, that the flashes of light always proceeded up the branches, from the base towards the extremities.

The examination of these compound animals was always very interesting to me. What can be more remarkable than to see a plant-like body producing an egg, furnished with setæ, and having independent movements, which soon becomes fixed, branches into numberless arms, and these, though crowded with polypi, yet in some cases possessing independent organs of movement, and obeying uniform impulses of will? The polypi are frequently animals of no simple organization; and in most respects certainly are to be considered as true individuals. It is therefore more curious to observe, in the young and terminal cells, their gradual formation, from the growth of the simple horny substance of which so many zoophytes are composed. The known organization of a tree should remove all surprise at the union of many individuals together, and their relation to a common body. Indeed we might expect, according to the apparent law, that any structure which prevails in one class will be produced in a lesser degree in some others--that since so many plants are compound, so would some animals be thus constructed. It requires, however, a greater effort of reason to view a bud as an individual, than a polypus furnished with a mouth and intestines; and therefore the union does not appear so strange.

Our conception of a compound animal,[12] where in some respects the individuality of each is not completed, may be aided, by reflecting on the production of two distinct creatures by bisecting one with a knife, or where nature herself performs the task. We may consider the polypi in a zoophyte, or the buds in a tree, as cases where the division of the individual has not been completely effected. In this kind of generation, the individuals seem produced only with relation to the present time; their numbers are multiplied, but their life is not extended beyond a fixed period. By the other, and more artificial kind, through intermediate steps or ovules, the relation is kept up through successive ages. By the latter method many peculiarities, which are transmitted by the former, are obliterated, and the character of the species is limited; while on the other hand, certain peculiarities (doubtless adaptations) become hereditary and form races. We may fancy that in these two circumstances we see a step towards the final cause of the shortness of life.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In the same month, also, of the previous year, the Beagle visited these islands.

[2] Lesson’s Zoology of the Voyage of the Coquille, vol. i., p. 168. All the early voyagers, and especially Bougainville, distinctly state that the wolf-like fox was the only native animal on the island. The distinction of this rabbit as a species, is taken from peculiarities in the fur, from the shape of the head, and from the shortness of the ears. I may here observe that the difference between the Irish and English hare, rests upon nearly similar characters, only more strongly marked.

[3] I have reason to believe there is likewise a field-mouse. The common European rat and mouse have roamed from the habitations, and have settled themselves at various points. The common hog has also run wild.

[4] The “culpeu” is the Vulpes Magellanicus brought home by Captain King from the Strait of Magellan. It is common in Chile.

[5] Captain FitzRoy has presented two of these foxes to the British Museum, where Mr. Gray had the kindness to compare them in my presence.

[6] Pernety, Voyage aux Isles Malouines, p. 526.

[7] “Nous n’avons pas été moins saisis d’étonnement à la vûe de l’innombrable quantité de pierres de toutes grandeurs, bouleversées les unes sur les autres, et cependant rangées, comme si elles avoient été amoncelées négligemment pour remplir des ravins. On ne se lassoit pas d’admirer les effets prodigieux de la nature.”--Pernety, p. 526.

[8] An inhabitant of Mendoza, and hence well capable of judging, assured me that, during the several years he had resided on these islands, he had never felt the slightest shock of an earthquake.

[9] I may mention, that I one day observed a cormorant playing with a fish which it had caught. Eight times successively the bird let its prey go, then dived after it, and although in deep water, brought it each time to the surface. In the Zoological Gardens I have seen the otter treat a fish in the same manner, much as a cat does a mouse. I do not know of any other instance where dame Nature appears so wilfully cruel.

[10] While at the Falklands, during the autumn of the southern hemisphere, most of the lower marine animals were breeding. I was surprised to find on counting the eggs of a large white Doris (this sea-slug was three and a half inches long) how extraordinarily numerous they were. From two to five eggs (each three-thousandths of an inch in diameter) were contained in a spherical little case. These were arranged two deep in transverse rows forming a ribbon. The ribbon adhered by its edge to the rock in an oval spire. One, which I found, measured nearly twenty inches in length and half in breadth. By counting how many balls were contained in a tenth of an inch in the row, and how many rows in an equal length of the ribbon, on the most moderate computation there were six hundred thousand eggs. Yet this Doris was certainly not very common: although I was often searching under the stones I saw only seven individuals.

[11] This coralline emitted a very strong and disagreeable odour, when freshly taken from the sea.

[12] With regard to associated life, animals of other classes besides the mollusca and radiata present obscure instances of it. The bee could not live by itself. And in the neuter, we see an individual produced which is not fitted for the reproduction of its kind--that highest point at which the organization of all animals, especially the lower ones, tends--therefore such neuters are born as much for the good of the community, as the leaf-bud is for the tree.

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