CHAPTER VIII.
ROUND THE HORN--THE PATAGONIANS.
A week after our experience at the bull-fight, we were ready for sea. Itwas an easier matter, however, to be ready for sea, than to be able toget to sea. For several of John Bull's cruisers were watching for usjust outside the harbor, determined, if possible, to put a stop tofurther depredations on British commerce as far as we were concerned.But, on a stormy night in the early part of August, Captain Jokerdetermined to make an attempt to run the blockade. All the men werequietly posted at quarters, and we started, cautiously hugging the landon the south side of the bay. We got along capitally till we reached themouth of the harbor. Here we almost ran into a man-o'-war. The night wasso dark that you couldn't see your hand before your face. We just sawher lantern in time to bring our helm hard-a-port. As it was, we grazedher stern with our bowsprit.
"What ship is that?" was immediately bawled from the man-o'-war.
"British sloop-of-war Achilles," sung out Captain Joker. "What ship isthat?"
"The Hercules."
"All right!"
We passed on, holding our breaths, and were soon out of reach.
But we were scarcely two miles out to sea, when the signal lantern ofanother of our blockaders appeared, and a shot was fired across ourbows. But we kept straight on our way without paying the least attentionto it. Another shot followed us as harmlessly as its predecessor, but athird struck the taffrail of our stern, sending up a shower ofsplinters.
"Blast 'em! blaze away with the Long Tom!" cried our little captain,getting in considerable of a tantrum for such a good natured fellow.
Bang! went the long brass swivel, and a flash from the enemy's guns,immediately afterward, let us see our ball strike her fair and broad inthe starboard bow. We gave her one more compliment of a similarcharacter, and then kept on our way, without further molestation, for wecould easily outsail anything the enemy could bring against us.
It was the beginning of a tempest which raged with but littleintermission, for several days; and we were kept hard at work, as aconsequence. It let up, however, when we had reached a latitude far downthe coast. We here had the satisfaction of capturing two richly-ladenbrigs from Valparaiso, which more than compensated us for ourprivations.
It had been decided, at first, to double the Horn, but as the weatherbade fair to be more than commonly bad, we entered the Straits ofMagellan, intending to gain the Pacific by this avenue. There was moredanger attended by this route than by the Horn, as it was quite probablethat we should meet some armed vessel of the enemy. In view of thisprobability, Captain Joker decided to make no captures while in thestraits, however tempting an opportunity might offer, in order to disarmsuspicion, if we should happen to fall in with a man-o'-war.
The Straits of Magellan--that broad avenue between the southern portionof the South American Continent and Terra del Fuego--links the Atlanticand Pacific Oceans by a fine channel, deep enough for the largest shipthat floats. It is a wild and dreary scene. On both sides of the straitsthe character of the shore is eminently precipitous and inhospitable.The great cliffs of black granite rise from the water's edge, in mostplaces, to a great hight, sparsely grown with stunted trees and adescription of rank grass. The climate is almost always cold and dismal,with something falling all the time--snow or rain.
The impression produced upon the mind of the rover, when, for the firsttime, he views these remote and cheerless scenes, is one that can neverbe effaced. One of the first queries which one makes to himself is, "Howcan anything--man or beast--live in the region of desolation and gloom?"Yet inhabitants there are, of both species.
It was snowing furiously as we entered the straits, and we had notproceeded far, with the Patagonian coast in view, before we saw animmense flock of ostriches on the high table-land, looking down at us ina very curious way. Something, however, occurred to frighten them, andaway they went, vanishing inland. These South American ostriches are notquite so large as their brothers of tropical Africa; but they seem to bestronger. Their legs are much thicker, and their wings are so small ashardly to appear at all, being concealed under the heavy feathers of theside. They run with great speed, outstripping the swiftest racer. Theyseem to resemble the cassowaries of Southeastern Asia more than theostriches of the Sahara, and are not nearly so valuable as the latterfor their plumage.
We also saw some wolves before the day was over. We lay up for thenight, under the shelter of the high cliffs of the Terra del Fuego sideof the straits. It blew strong during the night, and was so cold that wesuffered considerably. The next morning a boat expedition was started,to obtain some wood. I was along, and Tony Trybrace was in command. Werowed up an inlet which deeply indented the coast, in order to find, ifpossible, a landing-place, where wood could be obtained.
The scenery of Terra del Fuego is, if possible, more desolate andcheerless than the opposite side of the straits. It was the veryincarnation of gloomy solitude, as we pulled up the narrow inlet, withthe high, rocky cliffs on either side; and I felt a sensation ofloneliness and awe creep over me as the ship was shut from our view. Thevery waters through which we glided appeared black and somber--there wasnothing of the glad coast greenness, or of the true sea-blue about it.Now and then a lone eagle would rise from some jagged crag, and soarover us with a hungry scream, which only served to render the solitudemore impressive and solemn.
It was up this inlet that we saw human inhabitants for the first timesince entering the straits.
The Indians of Terra del Fuego are nothing like so formidable in size astheir brethren of Patagonia. In fact, they are rather below than abovethe medium size of humanity. They are extremely filthy in their habits.
"As for their customs," as the midshipman said, "they areincomprehensible; and as for their manners, they haven't got any."
They live in wretched habitations, which are semi-subterraneous, and arepartially dressed in the skins of wild beasts--mostly of wolves andfoxes.
As we rowed up the estuary, quite a number of these savages appearedupon the rocks to our left, and greeted us with friendly gestures. Aswe, soon after, descried a favorable landing-place, we made for theshore, and, as soon as we were on it, were surrounded by upward of fiftyIndians. We took good care to keep together, with an eye always on ourarms, for we did not know what treachery might be preparing for us. Butwe wronged these savages in our suspicions. They were of an exceedinglymild disposition, and manifested no other feeling for us thanfriendship, though the curiosity with which they examined our clothesand arms was rather annoying. They had evidently seen but few white men,as the Straits of Magellan were not frequently visited by vessels inthose days. One of the young lady Terra del Fuegans, who appeared to bequite a "belle" among her companions, took quite a fancy to me. Sheexamined my hands with wonder, but, upon pushing up my sleeve andviewing the whiteness of my arm, she was much struck at my appearance,and greeted me with a torrent of questions in her native lingo, whichmust surpass the Chinese in incomprehensibility, I think. These peopleare not devoid of a certain frankness of expression, which commends themto the notice of the stranger. They have a mild, placid look, but, whenangry, give tokens of the most furious tempers. They are armed with bowsand arrows and rude spears, and live to a large extent upon fish andshell-fish. The latter are procurable in large numbers, and the formerare generally captured by means of the spear, after the manner of theNorthern tribes of North American Indians. The males and females dressprecisely alike--the garment generally consisting of a loose robe ofskins, reaching from the neck to the feet--and this, together with avery slight dissimilarity of facial characteristics, renders itdifficult to distinguish the two sexes apart. One very praiseworthyquality in these Indians--in strong contradistinction to the savages ofNorth America--is displayed in their almost universal contempt fortrinkets. They do not seem to care a button for any ornament--unless itcomes in the shape of a piece of useful clothing--while any gift whichthey can put to immediate use is received with exuberant tokens ofdelight an
d satisfaction.
One of our men offered to one of the chiefs a large, bright navalbutton, when it was discarded with contempt, with the single comment of"_waywoo nexel_," which, by a free translation, may be rendered into"What is it good for?" "It is pretty, but worthless." Whereas, a largenail which was offered by another of the men, was delightedly accepted,with a profusion of thanks.
There was some utility in _this_. It might be fashioned into a spear orarrow-head, or crooked for a hook to hang dried fish on. And it was,therefore, far more valuable to the simple natives than the brightestornament of gold or precious stones.
We gathered our boat full of wood--such as it was--which we cut andcollected from the dwarf forests in the vicinity, and in a few hourswere ready to take our departure. I do not know whether they had everseen a ship, but, by some intuitive faculty, they seemed to conjecturethat we hadn't come all the way from the other side of the world in thelong boat--that there must be a vessel of larger proportions somewherein our vicinity, and they all wanted to accompany us on board the ship.Strange to say, these natives are very poor boatmen. They are almostdevoid of any water conveyance.
We could not accommodate all of them, so they deputed one of theirnumber--quite a lad--to accompany us. He got in at the bow, we followed,and pushed off, with our load of fuel, having a much better opinion ofthe natives than before.
It was worth a long journey to witness the wonder and awe of our littlepassenger upon first beholding the Queer Fish, as she lay at anchor inthe straits. At first the solemnity of the thing kept him silent. Hisfeelings of awe, however, gradually wore off, and he began to clap hishands and utter wild exclamations at everything he saw. When on board ofthe ship, he danced about in perfect ecstasy. We had a great deal of funwith him, and the captain offered him a glass of grog, "just to see," touse the skipper's own language, "how civilized the youngster was." Uponthe latter's rejecting the liquor in unutterable disgust, Jokerunhesitatingly declared him to be in the lowest depths of primitivebarbarism.
The next day, after putting our guest ashore--much to hisdissatisfaction--we proceeded westward through the straits. In two dayswe arrived at the western extremity, without encountering a solitaryship. It was here that I met with quite an adventure.
I was again a member of a boat expedition to procure wood, and as wehad seen a good many animals on the rocks, I, together with severalothers, provided myself with a musket and ammunition, in hopes ofprocuring something edible in the way of game.
So, after we had loaded our boat, those who had guns--myself amongthem--started off in different directions through the rocks and woods.For my part, I struck a bee-line inland, through the scrub trees, andhad not proceeded more than a mile or so when I sighted a small grayishfox, and brought him to a standstill with a bullet through his skull. Itoccurred in a singularly gloomy and dreary sort of dingle or ravine,surrounded by frowning rocks and ragged trees. I hastened forward tosecure my prey, but, just as I was bending down to pick it up, a deepgrowl startled me, and upon looking up I perceived a monstrous graywolf, who was approaching me with a hungry and ferocious aspect. Almostimmediately I perceived several more of the same ugly customersapproaching from the summit of the ridge. I had neglected to reload mygun, and was somewhat taken aback by this strange apparition. But I haveseldom been at a loss for expedients in times of peril. I now snatchedup the carcass of the little fox, and tossed it at the wolf to attracthis attention, at the same time springing to a scrub-oak, which Isucceeded in climbing, bringing my gun with me.
No sooner was I safely ensconced in the crotch of the tree, than I sawmyself surrounded by a pack of at least fifty of the gaunt, ferociousbeasts, who had gobbled up the little fox in the twinkling of aneye--more or less--and now seemed especially thirsty for my blood. To myfurther dismay, I now saw a large reinforcement of wolves coming at abrisk trot over the opposite ridge. You see, I was considerably uneasyin my mind, on account of the lowness of the tree. I straddled thecrotch, and my feet swung, at most, only six feet from _terra firma_,and there wasn't much chance of standing on my feet without dropping mygun. I was debating the grave question in my mind as to whether thewolves were spry enough to leap as high as my feet, when the biggest"varmint" among them dissolved all dubiousness on the subject by takinga short run and a flying leap at my feet. He missed them by about sixinches, and his teeth gnashed together with a most villainous snap. Hemade several more trials, as did some others of the pack, but as theycould not succeed in coming any nearer, I felt easier in my mind on thisscore. The entire pack then surrounded me, gazing up at me wistfully, asat a dainty piece of meat hung beyond their reach, and set up aprolonged, dismal howl.
I forgot all about my gun at first. The strangeness of my situation, aswell as its peril, lay upon my spirit like a spell. Can you imagineanything more ridiculously lonesome and desolate than a Yankee tar treedin the middle of Terra del Fuego by a pack of unreasonable, gigantic andhungry wolves? I can't. I believe I would as lief climb the North Poleand take a lonely roost on its summit.
Presently, however, I remembered that I had a musket and a largequantity of ammunition; and the idea occurred to me that, as the wolveswere hungry, I had better feed them on each other, as the mostcharitable course I could pursue.
So, having found a niche in the trunk of the tree, just below my rightfoot, where I could securely rest my gun, I rapidly reloaded. Havingdone so, I took a steady aim, and knocked over the biggest, ugliestrascal I could see. No sooner did the other wolves see and scent therunning blood of their comrade than they rushed upon him with joyfulyells and rapidly tore him to pieces--for many mouths make light work,as well as many hands. As soon as this was disposed of I shot another,which was also instantly devoured. So I went on, knocking them down asfast as I could reload, and rarely missing my aim. But the voracity ofthe infernal brutes seemed to have no end, and fresh squads kept comingin from every side, until I began to think that it was incumbent upon meto fill the stomachs of the entire wolf population. I destroyed fifty ofthem, if I did one, and yet they yelped for more, as if they hadn't hada meal in six weeks. Only having about ten charges left, I now ceasedfiring for a while, sincerely hoping that the wolves would leave me inpeace. But they had not the remotest idea of doing anything of the kind.
I remained six mortal hours a prisoner in the crotch of that miserabletree. At length, however, as it began to grow dark, I began to bealarmed, and recommenced my firing, in the hope that it would bring mycomrades to the rescue. By the blessing of Providence, they did at lasthear me, and I was saved. I shall never forget the thrill of deep joywith which I heard their encouraging cheer, as they advanced to therescue, over the summit of the eastern ridge. They numbered a dozenstout fellows, each armed with a musket, led on in solid column bylittle Tony Trybrace. A loud shout of laughter burst from their lipsupon perceiving the ridiculous position in which I was placed. But theirmerriment was something that I was little disposed to join in.
Nevertheless they advanced resolutely forward, pouring destructivevolleys into the bewildered wolves, who now began to scatter in everydirection. And, in a few moments not a live one was to be seen.
I slid down from the tree as lively as possible, and told the story ofmy adventures; but they had to support me to the boat, as I was so weakfrom the cramped position I had so long maintained, that I could hardlyuse my legs at all.
That was the last of my experience in Terra del Fuego. The next morningwe sailed northward, skirting the western coast of Patagonia.
The water which we had taken on board at Rio having proved of veryinferior quality, the captain decided to make a stop somewhere on thePatagonian coast--where the water is very delicious--in order to refillthe casks. In several days we arrived at Wellington Island. This is along, narrow, almost herbless island on the western coast, about midwaybetween the Island of Chiloe and the western extremity of the Straits ofMagellan. There is quite an archipelago here, there being a continuousline of islands stretching along almost the entire coast. Keepin
g thesouthern extremity of Wellington Island on our left, we steered intoward the coast, and soon made an excellent natural harbor on themainland.
The country here is not nearly so bleak as down at the straits. There isquite a spontaneous growth of grass, forests of oak, beech and cedar;and I was told that there were extensive grassy plains inland. Indeed,there must be something of the kind to feed the large numbers of horsesand guanacos (a wool-growing beast, a sort of Patagonian llama) thatroam the wastes, many of which we saw, even on the coast, which is rockyand bold. You can't say much for the climate, even in antithesis toTerra del Fuego. It is simply, universally, equably wretched. It rainsall the time, with no cessation at all. At least, it did while we werethere, and the natives assured us that it always rained. They did notknow what a dry day was, and laughed heartily when told of countrieswhere the sun frequently deigned to smile for an entire day at astretch.
We remained at our anchorage off the mainland for nearly a week, and asthere were plenty of natives in the vicinity, we had an excellentopportunity of observing them, which we were glad to improve. The coastof this remote region was not visited in those days, except at rareintervals. Some few adventurous navigators had explored the seas andinlets to some extent; but to most of the natives whom we met, we wereas strange a race as though we had dropped from the sky.
Many erroneous ideas were then, and are to the present day, entertainedwith regard to the inhabitants of Patagonia. They were represented as ofgigantic proportions, herculean strength and ferocious and cannibalisticpropensities. Nothing of the kind. It is true, they are a very tallrace. I have seen them as high as seven feet. But six feet four inchesis not considered dwarfish, even in Patagonia. I am told that thenatives of the west coast are the shortest of the different races ofPatagonia, and that those of the most easterly and central regions areof an average hight of seven feet, frequently attaining a still loftiergrowth. This is doubtless true, as it comes from sources that should beauthentic. But those of the west coast are as I have indicated. They arealso very bulky of body, but their limbs are quite disproportionate, andI do not think them equal to the Caucasian race in point of physique. Asin the case of the Terra del Fuegans, the men and women dress alike, areof almost equal hight, and are with difficulty distinguished from eachother. They dress in long, loose robes, reaching nearly to the feet.They are excellent horsemen, and skillful hunters with their spears.They are also expert with the bow and arrow. The principal game consistsof horses (large herds of which range the country), ostriches andguanacos, which we have already described as being a species of llama.Besides these, there is a species of hare, several kinds of ediblebirds, and shellfish are most abundant on all parts of the coast. Thelatter is one of the principal articles of food, and the manner ofobtaining the oysters, clams and mussels is excessively primitive. Thewomen dive for them. As the climate is very cold, the privations whichthese poor creatures undergo to supply the appetites of their selfishlords with the luscious bivalves are very great. The water is always oficy temperature. I have seen these poor women kept in the sea for anhour diving for mussels, and, when they were permitted to come out, theywere so benumbed as to be hardly able to stand. As soon as they come outof the sea, they are carried in front of blazing fires, where they aregradually thawed into their normal state. I think this must be a maincause for the paucity of the inhabitants of this coast. If they increasein population at all, it must be very tardily. The women, on account ofthese cruel privations they undergo, are seldom so long lived as themen. Some of them are not devoid of beauty, but, as with our ownsavages, an excessive prominence of features is the ruling facialcharacteristic.
Another article of food which is much prized, is a species of wildcelery which grows in great quantities along the coast. It makes anexcellent salad, and is the only vegetable I saw in use among thenatives. The people are very similar in disposition to their brethren ofthe Cape. Their voices are sometimes of surprising sweetness, althoughthe language they use is harsh and unmusical. They are usually of a mildand serene temperament, but, when thoroughly aroused, exhibit passionsof an ungovernable fury, which I have never seen equaled outside ofAfrica. Unlike the Terra del Fuegans, they are a nomadic race. Theywander from place to place, engaged in hunting and fishing, and in thecourse of a year probably traverse a distance of many hundred miles.
Their lodges consist of skins, sticks and earth, and are, owing to theirtemporary occupation, less substantial than those of the Fuegans, but,from what I saw, I should judge that the Patagonians are a much cleanerpeople.
We were on very friendly terms with them, and made them several presentsof a useful character, for which they were duly grateful. In return,they brought us large quantities of shell-fish and the delicious wildcelery.