Skyring's chart—Noir Island—Penguins—Fuegians—Sarmiento—Townshend Harbour—Horace Peaks—Cape Desolation—Boat lost—Basket—Search in Desolate Bay—Natives—Heavy gale—Surprise—Seizure—Consequences—Return to Beagle—Sail to Stewart Harbour—Set out again—Escape of Natives—Unavailing search—Discomforts—Tides—Nature of Coast—Doris Cove—Christmas Sound—Cook—York-Minster—March Harbour—Build a boat—Treacherous rocks—Skirmish with the Natives—Captives—Boat Memory—Petrel.
“25th. We weighed, and went round to Fury Harbour, for the carpenter and his cargo, and met him with a spar and a raft of plank, taken from the wreck. Having hoisted the boat up, and got the plank on board, we stood out towards the West Furies, by the wind; my intention being either to sail round Noir Island, or anchor under it, before running to the eastward, in order that no part of the sea-coast might be left unexamined. We passed very near some of the rocks, but as the day was fine and the weather clear, a good look-out at the mast-head could be trusted.
“Before leaving the vicinity of Mount Skyring, I should remark that the true bearing of Mount Sarmiento's summit, which I obtained from the top of Mount Skyring, laid off on Lieutenant Skyring's chart, passed as truly through his position of the summit as if the line had been merely drawn between them. This is highly creditable to his work, for I know he did not himself see Mount Sarmiento, when upon Mount Skyring.
“The breeze freshened, and drew more to the westward towards evening, I had therefore no hopes of nearing Noir Island. We saw the Tower Rocks distinctly before dark, and stood on towards them until ten o'clock, closing Scylla to avoid Charybdis, for in-shore of us lay all those scattered rocks, among which we had steered when passing the Agnes Islands and Cape Kempe.
“The night was spent in making short boards, under reefed topsails, over the same two miles of ground, as nearly as possible, with the lead going, and a thoroughly good look-out. At daylight next morning the wind became strong and the weather thick, with rain, but we made as much sail as we could carry, and worked to windward all the day. In the afternoon it moderated, and before dark we anchored in a very good roadstead, at the east end of Noir Island, sheltered from all winds from N. to S. b. E. (by the west); over a clear, sandy bottom; and with a sheltered cove near us where boats may land easily, and get plenty of wood and water. In working up to the Island, we passed very near a dangerous rock, under water, lying four miles off shore; and another, near the anchorage. The sea does not break on either of them when there is not much swell.
“27th. A fine day favoured us; the master went to one part of the island, and Mr. Stokes to another, while I went to a third. Having taken angles at the extreme west point (which ends in a cluster of rocks like needles), I passed quite round the island, and returned to the anchorage after dusk, landing here and there for bearings, in my way.
“There is a cove at the south part of the island, where boats would be perfectly safe in any weather, but the entrance is too narrow for decked vessels. The island itself is narrow and long, apparently the top of a ridge of mountains, and formed of sandstone,* which accounts for the bottom near it being so good, and for the needle-like appearance of the rocks at the west end; as the sand-stone, being very soft, is continually wearing away by the action of the water.
“Multitudes of penguins were swarming together in some parts of the island, among the bushes and ‘tussac’* near the shore, having gone there for the purposes of moulting and rearing their young. They were very valiant in self-defence, and ran open-mouthed, by dozens, at any one who invaded their territory, little knowing how soon a stick could scatter them on the ground. The young were good eating, but the others proved to be black and tough, when cooked. The manner in which they feed their young is curious, and rather amusing. The old bird gets on a little eminence, and makes a great noise (between quacking and braying), holding its head up in the air, as if it were haranguing the penguinnery, while the young one stands close to it, but a little lower. The old bird having continued its clatter for about a minute, puts its head down, and opens its mouth widely, into which the young one thrusts its head, and then appears to suck from the throat of its mother for a minute or two, after which the clatter is repeated, and the young one is again fed; this continues for about ten minutes. I observed some which were moulting make the same noise, and then apparently swallow what they thus supplied themselves with; so in this way I suppose they are furnished with subsistence during the time they cannot seek it in the water. Many hair seal were seen about the island, and three were killed. Wild fowl were very numerous. Strange to say, traces of the Fuegians (a wigwam, &c.) were found, which shows how far they will at times venture in their canoes.
“No danger lies outside of Noir Island, except in the Tower Rocks, which are above water, and ‘steep-to,’ but many perils lie to the south-eastward. Indeed, a worse place than the neighbourhood of Cape Kempe and the Agnes Islands could not often be found, I think: the chart of it, with all its stars to mark the rocks, looks like a map of part of the heavens, rather than part of the earth.
“28th. At daylight we sailed from these roads, and passed close to the Tower Rocks (within half a cable's length): they are two only in number, a mile and a half apart, and steep-sided. Thence we steered towards St. Paul's, my intention being to seek an anchorage in that direction. This day proved very fine and so clear that when we were becalmed, off St. Paul's, we saw Mount Sarmiento distinctly from the deck. A breeze carried us through Pratt Passage, which separates London Island from Sydney Island, to an anchorage in a good harbour, under a high peaked hill (Horace Peaks), which is a good mark for it. Finding no soundings in the Passage as we approached, gave us reason to be anxious; but in the harbour, the bottom proved to be excellent, and the water only of a moderate depth. As soon as we anchored, I tried to ascend Horace Peaks, but returned without having reached their summits before dark; however, I saw enough to give me a general idea of the distribution of the land and water near us. I thought that this anchorage would be favourable for ascertaining the latitude of Cape Schomberg* with exactness: having found a considerable difference between our chart and that of Lieutenant Skyring, respecting the latitude of that promontory.
“Meanwhile I contemplated sending the master to a headland called by Cook, Cape Desolation, and which well deserves the name, being a high, craggy, barren range of land. I was not sorry to find myself in a safe anchorage, for the weather seemed lowering; and after being favoured with some moderate days, we could not but expect a share of wind and rain.
“29th. This morning the weather looked as if we should be repaid for the few fine days which we had enjoyed; but as we felt it necessary to work in bad weather as well as in good, it did not prevent the master from setting out on his way to Cape Desolation; near which, as a conspicuous headland, whose position would be of great consequence, he was to search for a harbour, and obtain observations for connecting the survey. He could not have been in a finer boat (a whale-boat built by Mr. May, at San Carlos); and as he well knew what to do with her, I did not feel uneasy for his safety, although after his departure the wind increased rapidly, and towards evening blew a hard gale. The barometer had not given so much warning as usual; but it had been falling gradually since our arrival in this harbour, and continued to fall. The sympiesometer had been more on the alert, and had fallen more rapidly.
“(30th.) A continued gale, with rain and thick weather throughout the clay. During the night the weather became rather more moderate; but on the morning of the 31st, the wind again increased to a gale, and towards noon, the williwaws were so violent, that our small cutter, lying astern of the ship, was fairly capsized, though she had not even a mast standing. The ship herself careened, as if under a press of sail, sending all loose things to leeward with a general crash (not being secured for sea, while moored in so small a cove), but so rapidly did these blasts from the mountains pass by, that with a good scope of chain out, it was hardly strained to its utmost before the squall was over. While the gale was increasing, in the afternoon, the topmasts were struck; yet still, in the squalls, the vessel heeled many strakes when they caught her a-beam. At night they followed in such rapid succession, that if the holding-ground had not been excellent, and our ground-tackle very strong, we must have been driven on the rocks.
“Under the lee of high land is not the best anchorage in these regions. When good holding-ground can be found to windward of a height, and low land lies to windward of the anchorage, sufficient to break the sea, the place is much to be preferred; because the wind is steady and does not blow home against the height. The lee side of these heights is a great deal worse than the west side of Gibraltar Rock while the strongest Levanter is blowing.
“Considering that this month corresponds to August in our climate, it is natural to compare them, and to think how hay and corn would prosper in a Fuegian summer. As yet I have found no difference in Tierra del Fuego between summer and winter, excepting that in the former the days are longer, and the average temperature is perhaps ten degrees higher, but there is also then more wind and rain.
“The gale still continued, and prevented any thing being done out of the ship. However safe a cove Mr. Murray might have found, his time, I knew, must be passing most irksomely, as he could not have moved about since the day he left us. He had a week's provisions, but with moderate weather would have returned in three days.
“Feb. 2d. Still very squally and unsettled. This gale began at N.N.W., and drew round to S.S.W. Much rain comes usually from the N.W. quarter; and as the wind draws southward, the weather becomes clearer. The squalls from the southern quarter bring a great deal of hail with them.
“3d. I was enabled to take a round of angles from Horace Peaks, over the ship, the sky being clear near the horizon. The theodolite had been left near the top since the 28th, each day having been too bad to use it. These peaked hills required time and exertion in the ascent; but the wide range of view obtained from their summits on a clear day, amply repaid us for both. If the height was sufficient, it gave a bird's-eye view of many leagues, and showed at a glance where channels lay, which were islands, and what was the nature of the surrounding land and water. The shattered state of all these peaks is remarkable: frost, I think, must be the chief cause.
“After being deceived by the magnetism of Mount Skyring and other places, I never trusted the compass on a height, but always set up a mark near the water, at some distance, and from it obtained the astronomical bearing of my station at the summit. This afternoon we prepared the ship to proceed as soon as the master should arrive.
“4th. Moderate weather. I was surprised that the master did not make his appearance; yet, having full confidence in his prudent management, and knowing that he had been all the time among islands, upon any one of which he could haul up his boat and remain in safety during the gales, I did not feel much anxiety, but supposed he was staying to take the necessary angles and observations, in which he had been delayed by the very bad weather we had lately experienced.
“At three this morning (5th), I was called up to hear that the whale-boat was lost—stolen by the natives; and that her coxswain and two men had just reached the ship in a clumsy canoe, made like a large basket, of wicker-work covered with pieces of canvas, and lined with clay, very leaky, and difficult to paddle. They had been sent by the master, who, with the other people, was at the cove under Cape Desolation, where they stopped on the first day. Their provisions were all consumed, two-thirds having been stolen with the boat, and the return of the natives, to plunder, and perhaps kill them, was expected daily.
“The basket, I cannot call it a canoe, left the Cape (now doubly deserving of its name) early on the morning of the 4th, and worked its way slowly and heavily amongst the islands, the men having only one biscuit each with them. They paddled all day, and the following night, until two o'clock this morning (5th), when in passing the cove where the ship lay, they heard one of our dogs bark, and found their way to us quite worn out by fatigue and hunger. Not a moment was lost, my boat was immediately prepared, and I hastened away with a fortnight's provisions for eleven men, intending to relieve the master, and then go in search of the stolen boat. The weather was rainy, and the wind fresh and squally; but at eleven o'clock I reached the cove, having passed to seaward of the cape, and there found Mr. Murray anxiously, but doubtfully, awaiting my arrival. My first object, after inquiring into the business, was to scrutinize minutely the place where the boat had been moored, (for I could not believe that she had been stolen;) but I was soon convinced that she had been well secured in a perfectly safe place, and that she must, indeed, have been taken away, just before daylight, by the natives. Her mast and sails, and part of the provisions were in her; but the men's clothes and the instruments had fortunately been landed. It was the usual custom with our boats, when away from the ship, to keep a watch at night; but this place appeared so isolated and desolate, that such a precaution did not seem necessary. Had I been with the boat, I should probably have lost her in the same manner; for I only kept a watch when I thought there was occasion, as I would not harass the boat's crew unnecessarily; and on this exposed and sea-beaten island, I should not have suspected that Indians would be found. It appeared that a party of them were living in two wigwams, in a little cove about a mile from that in which our boat lay, and must have seen her arrive; while their wigwams were so hidden as to escape the observation of the whale-boat's crew. At two o'clock on the first morning, Mr. Murray sent one of the men out of the tent to see if the boat rode well at her moorings in the cove, and he found her secure. At four another man went to look out, but she was then gone. The crew, doubtful what had been her fate, immediately spread about the shore of the island to seek for traces of her, and in their search they found the wigwams, evidently just deserted: the fire not being extinguished. This at once explained the mystery, and some proceeding along the shore, others went up on the hills to look for her in the offing; but all in vain. The next morning Mr. Murray began the basket, which was made chiefly by two of his men out of small boughs, and some parts of the tent, with a lining of clayey earth at the bottom. Being on an island, about fifteen miles from the Beagle, their plan was as necessary as it was ingenious: though certainly something more like a canoe than a coracle could have been paddled faster.
“The chronometer, theodolite, and other instruments having been saved, Mr. Murray had made observations for fixing the position of the place, and had done all that was required before I arrived, when they embarked, with their things, in my boat, which then contained altogether eleven men, a fortnight's provisions, two tents,* and clothing; yet with this load she travelled many a long mile, during the following week, a proof of the qualities of this five-oared whale-boat, which was also built by Mr. Jonathan May, our carpenter, while we were at San Carlos.
“The very first place we went to, a small island about two miles distant, convinced us still more decidedly of the fate of our lost boat, and gave us hopes of retrieving her; for near a lately used wigwam, we found her mast, part of which had been cut off with an axe that was in the boat. Our next point was then to be considered, for to chase the thieves I was determined. North and east of us, as far as the eye could reach, lay an extensive bay in which were many islands, large and small; and westward was a more connected mass of large islands reaching, apparently, to the foot of that grand chain of snowy mountains, which runs eastward from the Barbara Channel, and over the midst of which Sarmiento proudly towers. I resolved to trace the confines of the bay, from the west, towards the north and east, thinking it probable that the thieves would hasten to some secure cove, at a distance, rather than remain upon an outlying island, whence their retreat might be cut off. In the evening we met a canoe containing two Fuegians, a man and a woman, who made us understand, by signs, that several canoes were gone to the northward. This raised our hopes, and we pushed on. The woman, just mentioned, was the best looking I have seen among the Fuegians, and really well-featured: her voice was pleasing, and her manner neither so suspicious nor timid as that of the rest. Though young she was uncommonly fat, and did justice to a diet of limpets and muscles. Both she and her husband were perfectly naked. Having searched the coves for some distance farther, night came on, and we landed in a sheltered spot.
“The next day (6th), we found some rather doubtful traces of the thieves. Towards night it blew a strong gale, with hailsqualls and rain.
“On the 7th, at a place more than thirty miles E.N.E. of Cape Desolation, we fell in with a native family, and on searching their two canoes found our boat's lead line. This was a prize indeed; and we immediately took the man who had it into our boat, making him comprehend that he must show us where the people were, from whom he got it. He understood our meaning well enough, and following his guidance we reached a cove that afternoon, in which were two canoes full of women and children; but only one old man, and a lad of seventeen or eighteen. As usual with the Fuegians, upon perceiving us they all ran away into the bushes, carrying off as much of their property as possible—returning again naked, and huddling together in a corner. After a minute search, some of the boat's gear was found, part of her sail, and an oar, the loom of which had been made into a seal-club, and the blade into a paddle. The axe, and the boat's tool-bag were also found, which convinced us that this was the resort of those who had stolen our boat; and that the women, six in number, were their wives. The men were probably absent, in our boat, on a sealing expedition; as a fine large canoe, made of tirplank, perhaps from the wreck of the Saxe Cobourg, was lying on the beach without paddles or spears. She did not come there without paddles: and where were the spears of which every Fuegian family has plenty? It was evident that the men of the party had taken them in our boat, and had cut up our oars like the one they had accidentally left. The women understood what we wanted, and made eager signs to explain to us where our boat was gone. I did not like to injure them, and only took away our own gear, and the young man, who came very readily, to show us where our boat was, and, with the man who had brought us to the place, squatted down in the boat apparently much pleased with some clothes and red caps, which were given to them. We had always behaved kindly to the Fuegians wherever we met them, and did not yet know how to treat them as they deserved, although they had robbed us of so great a treasure, upon the recovery or loss of which much of the success of our voyage depended. Following the guidance of these two natives, we pulled against wind and rain until dark, when it became absolutely necessary to secure our boat for the night, deeply laden as she was with thirteen people. As we were then at a great distance from the place, whence we brought the natives, having pulled for four hours along shore, and as they seemed to be quite at their ease, and contented, I would not secure our guides as prisoners, but allowed them to lie by the fire in charge of the man on watch. About an hour before daylight, although the look-out man was only a few yards distant from the fire, they slipped into the bushes, and as it was almost dark were immediately out of sight. Their escape was discovered directly, but to search for them during darkness, in a thick wood, would have been useless; besides, our men were tired with their day's work, and wanted rest, so I would not disturb them until daylight (8th), when we continued our search in the direction the natives had indicated; but after examining several coves without finding any traces of Fuegians, we hastened back towards the wigwams we had visited on the previous day. Sailing close along-shore, a large smoke suddenly rose up, out of a small cove close by us, where we immediately landed, and looked all round; but found only the foot-prints of two Fuegians, probably the runaways, who had just succeeded in lighting a fire at the moment we passed by. This shows how quickly they find materials for the purpose, for when they left us, they had neither iron nor fire-stone (pyrites), nor any kind of tinder. They had carried off two tarpaulin coats, which Mr. Murray had kindly put on to keep them warm; although, treated as he had so lately been, one might have thought he would not have been the first to care for their comfort. I mention these incidents to show what was our behaviour to these savages, and that no wanton cruelty was exercised towards them.
“After looking for these two natives, and for Mr. Murray's coats, which at that time he could ill spare, we returned to our boat, and pushed on towards the wigwams. The moment the inmates saw us, they ran away, and we gave chase, trying, in vain, to make them stop. Disappointed in the hope of obtaining a guide, we determined to prevent these people from escaping far, and spreading any intelligence likely to impede the return of our boat, which we daily expected: we therefore destroyed two canoes, and part of a third, that the natives were building, and burned every material which could be useful to them in making another canoe.
“(9th). Next day, we went straight across the bay to Cape Desolation, against a fresh breeze: by pulling in turns, the boat was kept going fast through the water, and late in the evening we reached the cove from which the thieves had first started, when they stole the boat; but no traces of their having been there again, were found. I thought it probable that they would return to see what had become of our party, and whether our people were weak enough to be plundered again, or perhaps attacked.
“This idea proving wrong, we retraced (10th) much of our former course, because the direction pointed out by the Fuegians who ran away from us seemed to lead towards the place we now steered for, Courtenay Sound, and was a probable line for the thieves to take. During the night it blew a gale from the southward, which increased next day (11th), and became more and more violent until the morning of the 12th, when it abated.
“We continued our search, however, sometimes under a close-reefed sail; sometimes on our oars, and sometimes scudding with only the mast up. Although the wind was very violent, too strong for a close reefed sail (with four reefs), the water was too much confined by islands to rise into a sea, but it was blown, as ‘spoon drift,’ in all directions. This day the Beagle had her topmasts and lower yards struck, for the gale was extremely heavy where she lay. The barometer foretold it very well, falling more than I had previously seen, although the wind was southerly. In an exposed anchorage, I do not think any vessel could have rode it out, however good the holding ground.
“12th. This morning the weather was better, and improving fast. We went over much ground without the smallest success, and in the afternoon steered to the eastward again, for a third visit to the boat stealers' family. As it was late when we approached the place, I landed half our party, and with the rest went to reconnoitre. After a long search we discovered the Indians in a cove, at some distance from that in which they were on the previous day; and having ascertained this point, taken a good view of the ground, and formed our plans, we returned to our companions, and prepared for surprising the natives and making them prisoners. My wish was to surround them unawares, and take as many as possible, to be kept as hostages for the return of our boat, or else to make them show us where she was; and, meanwhile, it was an object to prevent any from escaping to give the alarm.
“13th. Whether the men belonging to the tribe had returned during our absence, was uncertain, as we could not, without risk of discovery, get near enough to ascertain: but, in case we should find them, we went armed, each with a pistol or gun, a cutlass, and a piece of rope to secure a prisoner. We landed at some distance from the cove, and, leaving two men with our boat, crept quietly through the bushes for a long distance round, until we were quite at the back of the new wigwams; then closing gradually in a circle, we reached almost to the spot undiscovered; but their dogs winded us, and all at once ran towards us barking loudly. Further concealment was impossible, so we rushed on as fast as we could through the bushes. At first the Indians began to run away; but hearing us shout on both sides, some tried to hide themselves, by squatting under the banks of a stream of water. The foremost of our party, Elsmore by name, in jumping across this stream, slipped, and fell in just where two men and a woman were concealed: they instantly attacked him, trying to hold him down and beat out his brains with stones; and before any one could assist him, he had received several severe blows, and one eye was almost destroyed, by a dangerous stroke near the temple. Mr. Murray, seeing the man's danger, fired at one of the Fuegians, who staggered back and let Elsmore escape; but immediately recovering himself, picked up stones from the bed of the stream, or was supplied with them by those who stood close to him, and threw them from each hand with astonishing force and precision. His first stone struck the master with much force, broke a powder-horn hung round his neck, and nearly knocked him backwards: and two others were thrown so truly at the heads of those nearest him, that they barely saved themselves by dropping down. All this passed in a few seconds, so quick was he with each hand: but, poor fellow, it was his last struggle; unfortunately he was mortally wounded, and, throwing one more stone, he fell against the bank and expired. After some struggling, and a few hard blows, those who tried to secrete themselves were taken, but several who ran away along the beach escaped: so strong and stout were the females, that I, for one, had no idea that it was a woman, whose arms I and my coxswain endeavoured to pinion, until I heard someone say so. The oldest woman of the tribe was so powerful, that two of the strongest men of our party could scarcely pull her out from under the bank of the stream. The man who was shot was one of those whom we had taken in the boat as a guide, and the other was among our prisoners. Mr. Murray's coats were found in the wigwams divided into wrappers to throw over the shoulders. We embarked the Indians (two men, three women, and six children), and returned to the spot where we had passed the preceding night. One man who escaped was a one-eyed man we had seen before; he was more active than any, and soon out of our reach. Two or three others escaped with him, whom I did not see distinctly.
“That a life should have been lost in the struggle, I lament deeply; but if the Fuegian had not been shot at that moment, his next blow might have killed Elsmore, who was almost under water, and more than half stunned, for he had scarcely sense to struggle away, upon feeling the man's grasp relax. When fairly embarked, and before we asked any questions, the natives seemed very anxious to tell us where our boat was; but pointed in a direction quite opposite to that which they had previously shown us. We guarded them carefully through the night, and next morning (14th) set out upon our return to the Beagle, with twenty-two souls in the boat. My object was, to put them in security on board, run down the coast with the ship to some harbour more to the eastward, and then set out again upon another search; carrying some of my prisoners as guides, and leaving the rest on board to ensure the former remaining, and not deceiving us. We made tolerable progress, though the boat was so over-loaded, and on the 15th reached the Beagle with our living cargo. In our way we fell in with a family of natives, whose wigwams and canoes we searched; but finding none of our property, we left them not only unmolested, but gave them a few things, which in their eyes were valuable.
“This conduct appeared to surprise our prisoners, who, as far as we could make out, received a wholesome lecture, of assistance, from the strangers. At all events, when they parted, our passengers were as discontented as the others were cheerful. When we got on board, we fed our prisoners with fat pork and shell-fish, which they liked better than any thing else, and clothed them with old blankets.*
“Next morning (16th) we weighed, and sailed along the coast towards Cape Castlereagh, at the east side of Desolate Bay. Many straggling rocks and rocky islets were observed lying off Cape Desolation and in the Bay. That afternoon, we stood into a narrow opening, which appeared to be the outlet of a harbour close to Cape Castlereagh, and found a very good anchorage, well suited for the purposes both of continuing the survey and looking for the lost boat.
“(17th.) The master and I, with the cutter and a whaleboat, set out upon a second chase, taking a week's provisions. In the first cove I searched, not two miles from the Beagle, I found a piece of the boat's lead-line, which had been left in a lately deserted wigwam. This raised our hopes; and, in addition to the signs made by our prisoners, convinced us we were on the right track.
“I took with me a young man as a guide, and in the cutter the master carried the two stoutest of the women, having left all the rest of our prisoners on board. As far as we could make out, they appeared to understand perfectly that their safety and future freedom depended upon their showing us where to find the boat.
“We intended to go round the Stewart Islands; and after examining many coves, and finding signs that a party of natives had passed along the same route within the last two days, we stopped in a sheltered place for the night. Having given our prisoners as much food as they could eat, muscles, limpets, and pork, we let them lie down close to the fire, all three together. I would not tie them, neither did I think it necessary to keep an unusual watch, supposing that their children being left in our vessel was a security for the mothers far stronger than rope or iron. I kept watch myself during the first part of the night, as the men were tired by pulling all day, and incautiously allowed the Fuegians to lie between the fire and the bushes, having covered them up so snugly, with old blankets and my own poncho, that their bodies were entirely hidden. About midnight, while standing on the opposite side of the fire, looking at the boats, with my back to the Fuegians, I heard a rustling noise, and turned round; but seeing the heap of blankets unmoved, satisfied me, and I stooped down to the fire to look at my watch. At this moment, another rustle, and my dog jumping up and barking, told me that the natives had escaped. Still the blankets looked the same, for they were artfully propped up by bushes. All our party began immediately to search for them; but as the night was quite dark, and there was a thick wood close to us, our exertions were unavailing.
“Believing that we could not be far from the place where the natives supposed our boat to be, I thought that they would go directly and warn their people of our approach; and as the island was narrow, though long, a very little travelling would take them across to the part they had pointed out to us, while it might take a boat a considerable time to go round; I therefore started immediately to continue the search in that direction, and left the master to examine every place near our tents.
“In the afternoon of the same day I returned to him, having traversed a long extent of coast without finding an outlet to sea-ward, or any traces of the lost boat. Meanwhile Mr. Murray had searched every place near our bivouac without success; but he found the spot where the Fuegians had concealed themselves during the night, under the roots of a large tree, only a dozen yards from our fire.
“As it was possible that the thieves might have returned to the place whence we had taken the natives, I desired the master to cross the sound and go there, and afterwards return to meet me, while I continued the search eastward. With a fair and fresh wind I made a good run that evening, found a passage opening to the sea,* and a wigwam just deserted. Here was cause for hope; and seeing, beyond the passage, some large islands lying to seaward of that which we had been coasting, it appeared probable that our boat had been taken there for seal-fishing. Our prisoners had given us to understand plainly enough that such was the object of those who had stolen her, and outlying islands were the most likely to be visited, as on them most seal are found.
“Next day (19th) I passed over to Gilbert Island, and in a cove found such recent marks of natives, that I felt sure of coming up with the chase in the course of the day. When the Fuegians stop anywhere, they generally bark a few trees, to repair their canoes or cover their wigwams; but those whose traces we were following, had made long journeys without stopping; and, where they did stay, barked no trees, which was one reason for supposing them to be the party in our boat. In the course of the day we pulled nearly round the islands,* looking into every cove.
“On the 20th, we discovered three small canoes with their owners in a cove.* All the men ran away, except two. As we saw that there were no more persons than the canoes required, we did not try to catch them, knowing that this could not be the party we were in search of. We had now examined every nook and corner about these islands, and I began to give up all hope of finding our boat in this direction. Having no clue to guide me farther, and much time having been lost, I reluctantly decided to return to the Beagle. Our only remaining hope, that the master might have met with the boat, was but very feeble.
“(21st.) All this day we were pulling to the westward, to regain the Beagle. At night-fall I met Mr. Murray, with the cutter, in the cove where I had appointed a rendezvous. He had not found any signs of the boat upon the opposite shore, and therefore returned; but he saw the people who had escaped from us when we surprised the whole family. They fled as soon as his boat was seen. Leaving, therefore, three men to watch in the bushes, he stood out to sea in the boat; and the stratagem succeeded sufficiently to enable our men to get very near to the natives, but not to catch any of them. One old man squinted very much, and in other respects exactly answered the description of a Fuegian who ill-treated some of the Saxe Cobourg's crew, when they were cast away in Fury Harbour. I wish we could have secured him; but he was always on the alert, and too nimble for our people. In their canoe, which was taken, was found the sleeve of Mr. Murray's tarpaulin coat, a proof that these people belonged to the tribe which had stolen our boat. The canoe was a wretchedly patched affair, evidently put together in a great hurry.
“Next morning (22d) the master and I set out on our return to the Beagle; but seeing a great smoke on the opposite shore, in Thieves' Sound, I thought it must be made by the offenders, who, having returned and found their home desolate, were making signals to discover where their family was gone: sending the cutter therefore on board, I pulled across the sound towards the smoke. As the distance was long, and the wind fresh against us, it was late before I arrived; yet the smoke rose as thickly as ever, exciting our expectations to the utmost:—but, to our disappointment, not a living creature could be seen near the fire, nor could any traces of natives be found. The fire must have been kindled in the morning, and as the weather was dry, had continued to burn all day.
“We were then just as much at a loss as ever, for probably (if that was the party), they had seen us, and would, for the future, be doubly watchful. At first we had a chance of coming upon them unawares, but the time for that had passed: every canoe in the sound had been examined, and all its inhabitants knew well what we were seeking.
“It blew too strong, and it was too late, to recross Whaleboat Sound that night, so I ascended a height to look round. Next morning (23d) we again searched many miles of the shores of Thieves' Sound without anv success; and afterwards sailed across to Stewart Harbour. We reached the Beagle in the evening, but found that all the other prisoners, excepting three children, had escaped by swimming ashore during the preceding night. Thus, after much trouble and anxiety, much valuable time lost, and as fine a boat of her kind as ever was seen being stolen from us by these savages, I found myself with three young children to take care of, and no prospect whatever of recovering the boat. It was very hard work for the boats' crews, for during the first ten days we had incessant rainy weather, with gales of wind; and though the last few days had been uncommonly fine, the men's exertions in pulling about among the coves, and in ascending hills, had been extremely fatiguing.
“While the bad weather lasted, the men's clothes were seldom dry, either by day or night. Frequently they were soaked by rain during the greater part of the day, and at night they were in no better condition; for although a large fire (when made) might dry one side, the other as quickly became wet. Obliged, as we were, to pitch our small tent close to the water in order to be near our boat;—and because every other place was either rocky or covered with wood;—we were more than once awakened out of a sound sleep by finding that we were lying partly in the water, the night-tide having risen very much above that of the preceding day: although the tides should have been at that time ‘taking off’ (diminishing).
“Sometimes extreme difficulty was found in lighting a fire, because every thing was saturated with moisture; and hours have been passed in vain attempts, while every one was shivering with cold,—having no shelter from the pouring rain,—and after having been cramped in a small boat during the whole day.
“In Courtenay Sound I saw many nests of shags (cormorants) among the branches of trees near the water: until then, I had understood that those birds usually, if not invariably, built their nests on the ground or in cliffs.
“Much time had certainly been spent in this search, yet it ought not to be considered as altogether lost. Mr. Stokes had been hard at work during my absence, making plans of the harbours, and taking observations, and I am happy to say, that I had reason to place great confidence in his work, for he had always taken the utmost pains, and had been most careful. My wanderings had shown me that from the apparent sea coast to the base of that snowy chain of mountains which runs eastward from the Barbara Channel, there is much more water than land, and that a number of islands, lying near together, form the apparently connected coast; within which a wide sound-like passage extends, opening in places into bays and gulfs, where islands, islets, rocks and breakers, are very numerous. These waters wash the foot of the snowy chain which forms a continued barrier from the Barbara Channel to the Strait of Le Maire. This cruise had also given me more insight into the real character of the Fuegians, than I had then acquired by other means, and gave us all a severe warning which might prove very useful at a future day, when among more numerous tribes who would not be contented with a boat alone. Considering the extent of coast we had already examined, we ought to be thankful for having experienced no other disaster of any kind, and for having had the means of replacing this loss.
“I became convinced that so long as we were ignorant of the Fuegian language, and the natives were equally ignorant of ours, we should never know much about them, or the interior of their country; nor would there be the slightest chance of their being raised one step above the low place which they then held in our estimation. Their words seemed to be short, but to have many meanings, and their pronunciation was harsh and guttural.
“Stewart Harbour, in which the Beagle remained during the last boat cruise, proved to be a good one, and, having three outlets, may be entered or quitted with any wind, and without warping. Wood and water are as abundant as in other Fuegian harbours; and it may be easily known by the remarkable appearance of Cape Castlereagh, which is on the island that shelters the anchorage from the S.W. wind and sea. The outlets are narrow, and can only be passed with a leading wind; but if one does not serve, another will answer. It should be noticed, that there are two rocks nearly in the middle of the harbour, which are just awash at high water. A heavy swell is generally found outside, owing to the comparatively shallow water, in which there are soundings to about three miles from the Cape. In the entrances are from ten to twenty fathoms, therefore if the wind should baffle, or fail, an anchor may be dropped at any moment.
“In my last search among the Gilbert Islands, I found a good harbour for shipping, conveniently situated for carrying on the survey, in a place which otherwise I should certainly have overlooked: and to that harbour I decided on proceeding.
“For two miles to the eastward of Stewart Harbour, the shore projects, and is rocky and broken, then it retreats, forming a large bay, in which are the Gilbert Islands, and many rocky islets. We passed between Gilbert and Stewart Islands, anchored at noon under a point at the west entrance of the passage, and in the afternoon moved the Beagle to Doris Cove, and there moored her.
“I had decided to build another boat as quickly as possible, for I found it so much the best way to anchor the vessel in a safe place and then work with the boats on each side, that another good one was most necessary. Our cutter required too many men, and was neither so handy, nor could she pull to windward so well as a whale-boat; and our small boat was only fit for harbour duty. The weather on this coast was generally so thick and blowing, as not to admit of any thing like exact surveying while the vessel was under sail: the swell alone being usually too high to allow of a bearing being taken within six or eight degrees: and the sun we seldom saw. If caught by one of the very frequent gales, we might have been blown so far to the eastward that I know not how much time would have been lost in trying to regain our position. These coasts, which are composed of islands, allow boats to go a long distance in safety, and, from the heights near the sea, rocks and breakers may be seen, and their places ascertained, much better than can possibly be done at sea. For building a new boat we had all the materials on board, except prepared plank; and for this we cut up a spare spar, which was intended to supply the place of a defective or injured lower mast or bowsprit. With reluctance this fine spar, which had been the Doris's main-topmast, was condemned to the teeth of the saw; but I felt certain that the boat Mr. May would produce from it, would be valuable in any part of the world, and that for our voyage it was indispensable.
“Profiting by a clear day, I went to a height in the neighbourhood, whence I could see to a great distance in-shore, as well as along the coast, and got a view of Mount Sarmiento. While away from the Beagle, in search of the lost boat, we had enjoyed four succeeding days of fine weather, during which that noble mountain had been often seen by our party. The astronomical bearing of its summit was very useful in connecting this coast survey with that of the Strait of Magalhaens.
“25th and 26th. Mr. Murray went to the S. W. part of the island, taking three days' provisions. Mr. Stokes and I were employed near the ship, while every man who could use carpenter's tools was occupied in preparing materials for our new boat. The rock near here is greenstone, in which are many veins of pyrites. Specimens are deposited in the museum of the Geological Society.
“28th. Weighed, warped to windward, and made sail out of Adventure Passage. I was veiy anxious to reach Christmas Sound, because it seemed to me a good situation for the Beagle, while the boats could go east and west of her, and the new boat might be built. Running along the land, before a fresh breeze, we soon saw York Minster, and in the evening entered Christmas Sound, and anchored in the very spot where the Adventure lay when Cook was here. His sketch of the sound, and description of York Minster, are very good, and quite enough to guide a ship to the anchoring place. I fancied that the high part of the Minster must have crumbled away since he saw it, as it no longer resembled ‘two towers,’ but had a ragged, notched summit, when seen from the westward. It was some satisfaction to find ourselves at anchor at this spot in February, notwithstanding the vexatious delays we had so often experienced.
“As we had not sufficiently examined the coast between this sound and Gilbert Islands, I proposed sending Mr. Murray there with the cutter, while I should go to the eastward, during which time our new boat would be finished.
“1st March. This morning I went to look for a better anchorage for our vessel, that in which we lay being rather exposed, and very small. Neither Pickersgill Cove nor Port Clerke suited; so I looked further, and found another harbourj nearer to York Minster, easier of access for a ship arriving from sea, and with a cove in, one corner where a vessel could lie in security, close to a woody point. Having sounded this harbour, 1 returned to move our ship. Cook says, speaking of Port Clerke, ‘South of this inlet is another, which I did not examine:’—and into that inlet, named March Harbour, the Beagle prepared to go, but before we could weigh and work to windward, the weather became bad, which made our passage round the N.W. end of Shag Island rather difficult, as we had to contend with squalls, rain, and a narrow passage between rocks. The passage between Waterman Island and the south end of Shag Island is more roomy; but there is a rock near the middle which had not then been examined. We worked up to the innermost part of the harbour, and moored close to a woody point, in the most sheltered cove. Finding this to be a very convenient spot for building our boat, and in every point of view a good place for passing part of the month of March, I decided to keep the Beagle here for that purpose. This harbour might be useful to other vessels, its situation being well pointed out by York Minster (one of the most remarkable promontories on the coast), and affording wood and water with as little trouble as any place in which the Beagle had anchored.
“March 2d. The master set out in the large cutter, with a fortnight's provisions, to examine the coast between the north part of Christmas Sound and Point Alikhoolip, near which we passed on the 28th, without seeing much of it. With moderate weather and a little sunshine, he might have been expected to return in a week or ten days. He carried a chronometer and other necessary instruments. Two of the three children, left by their mother at Stewart Harbour, I sent with Mr. Murray, to be left with any Fuegians he might find most to the westward, whence they would soon find their friends. The third, who was about eight years old, was still with us: she seemed to be so happy and healthy, that I determined to detain her [Fuegia Basket] as a hostage for the stolen boat, and try to teach her English. Lieutenant Kempe built a temporary house for the carpenters, and other workmen, near the ship and the spot chosen for observations, so that all our little establishment was close together. The greater part of the boat's materials being already prepared, she was not expected to be long in building, under the able direction and assistance of Mr. May.
“3d. Some Fuegians in a canoe approached us this morning, seeming anxious to come on board. I had no wish for their company, and was sorry to see that they had found us out; for it was to be expected that they would soon pay us nightly as well as daily visits, and steal every thing left within their reach. Having made signs for them to leave us, without effect, I sent Mr. Wilson to drive them away, and fire a pistol over their heads, to frighten them. They then went back, but only round a point of land near the ship; so I sent the boat again to drive them out of the harbour, and deter them from paying us another visit. Reflecting, while Mr. Wilson was following them, that by getting one of these natives on board, there would be a chance of his learning enough English to be an interpreter, and that by his [this?] means we might recover our lost boat, I resolved to take the youngest man on board, as he, in all probability, had less strong ties to bind him to his people than others who were older, and might have families. With these ideas I went after them, and hauling their canoe alongside of my boat, told a young man [York Minster] to come into it; he did so, quite unconcernedly, and sat down, apparently contented and at his ease. The others said nothing, either to me or to him, but paddled out of the harbour as fast as they could. They seemed to belong to the same tribe as those we had last seen.
“4th. This afternoon our boat's keel was laid down, and her moulds were set up. Fuegia Basket* told ‘York Minster’† all her story; at some parts of which he laughed heartily. Fuegia, cleaned and dressed, was much improved in appearance: she was already a pet on the lower deck, and appeared to be quite contented. York Minster was sullen at first, yet his appetite did not fail; and whatever he received more than he could eat, he stowed away in a corner; but as soon as he was well cleaned and clothed, and allowed to go about where he liked in the vessel, he became much more cheerful.
“At Cape Castlereagh and the heights over Doris Cove in Gilbert Island, the rock seemed to contain so much metal, that I spent the greater part of one day in trying experiments on pieces of it, with a blowpipe and mercury. By pounding and washing I separated about a tea-spoonful of metal from a piece of rock (taken at random) the size of a small cup. I put the powder by carefully, with some specimens of the rock—thinking that some of these otherwise barren mountains might be rich in metals. It would not be in conformity with most other parts of the world were the tract of mountainous islands composing the Archipelago of Tierra del Fuego condemned to internal as well as external unprofitableness. From the nature of the climate agriculture could seldom succeed; and perhaps no quadrupeds fit for man's use, except goats and dogs, could thrive in it: externally too, the land is unfit for the use of civilized man. In a few years its shores will be destitute of seal: and then, what benefit will be derived from it?—unless it prove internally rich, not in gold or silver, but perhaps in copper, iron, or other metals.
“5th. This day all hands were put on full allowance, our savings since we left San Carlos having; secured a sufficient stock of provisions to last more than the time allotted for the the remainder of our solitary cruise.
“By using substitutes for the mens' shoes, made of sealskin, we secured enough to last as long as we should want them. I have never mentioned the state of our sick list, because it was always so trifling. There had been very little doing in the surgeon's department; nothing indeed of consequence, since Mr. Murray dislocated his shoulder.
“The promontory of York Minster is a black irregularly-shaped rocky cliff, eight hundred feet in height, rising almost perpendicularly from the sea. It is nearly the loftiest as well as the most projecting part of the land about Christmas Sound, which, generally speaking, is not near so high as that further west, but it is very barren. Granite is prevalent, and I could find no sandstone. Coming from the westward, we thought the heights about here inconsiderable; but Cook, coming from the South Sea, called them ‘high and savage.’ Had he made the land nearer the Barbara Channel, where the mountains are much higher, he would have spoken still more strongly of the wild and disagreeable appearance of the coast.
“6th. During the past night it blew very hard, making our vessel jerk her cables with unusual violence, though we had a good scope out, and the water was perfectly smooth. We saw that the best bower-anchor had been dragged some distance, it was therefore hove to the bows when its stock was found to be broken, by a rock, in the midst of good ground, having caught the anchor. It had been obtained at San Carlos from a merchant brig, but being much too light for our vessel, had been woulded [wound?] round with chains to give it weight: its place was taken by a frigate's stream-anchor, well made and well tried, which I had procured from Valparaiso.* In shifting our berth, the small bower chain was found to be so firmly fixed round another rock that for several hours we could not clear it. Such rocks as these are very treacherous and not easily detected, except by sweeping the bottom with a line and weights. A very heavy squall, with lightning and thunder, passed over the ship this afternoon, depressing the sympiesometer more than I had ever witnessed. Very heavy rain followed.
“8th. In the forenoon I was on a height taking angles, when a large smoke was made by natives on a point at the entrance of the harbour; and at my return on board the ship, I found that two canoes had been seen, which appeared to be full of people. Supposing that they were strangers, I went in a small boat with two men to see them, and find out if they possessed any thing obtained from our lost whale-boat, for I thought it probable she might have been taken along the coast eastward, to elude our pursuit. I found them in a cove very near where our carpenters were at work. They had just landed, and were breaking boughs from the trees. I was surprised to see rather a large party, about fourteen in number, all of whom seemed to be men, except two women who were keeping the canoes. They wanted me to go to them, but I remained at a little distance, holding up bits of iron and knives, to induce them to come to me, for on the water we were less unequal to them. They were getting very bold and threatening in their manner, and I think would have tried to seize me and my boat, had not Lieutenant Kempe come into the cove with six men in the cutter, when their manner altered directly, and they began to consult together. They were at this time on a rock rising abruptly from the water, and the canoes, which I wanted to search, were at the foot of the rock. Under such local disadvantages I could not persevere without arms, for they had stones, slings, and spears, ready in their hands. Lieutenant Kempe and myself then returned on board for arms and more men, for I resolved to drive them out of the harbour, as it was absolutely necessary. Already they, or their countrymen, had robbed us of a boat, and endangered the lives of several persons; and had they been allowed to remain near us, the loss of that part of another boat which was already built would have followed, besides many things belonging to the carpenters and armourer, which they were using daily on shore.
“Another motive for searching the canoes, arose from seeing so many men without women, for I concluded that some of the whale-boat thieves were among them, who, having seen our cutter go to the westward full of people, might suppose we had not many left on board: one boat's crew, as they perhaps imagined, being left on an island, and another away in search of them. They had hitherto seen only merchant-vessels on this coast, and judging of the number of a crew by them, might think there could not be many persons on board, and that the vessel would be easy to take. At all events they came prepared for war, being much painted, wearing white bands on their heads, carrying their slings and spears, and having left all their children and dogs, with most of their women, in some other place.
“Two boats being manned and armed, I went with Lieut. Kempe and Mr. Wilson to chase the Fuegians, who were paddling towards another part of the harbour. Seeing the boats approaching, they landed and got on the top of a rock, leaving the canoes underneath with the two women. From their manner I saw they were disposed to be hostile, and we therefore approached leisurely. Their canoes being within our reach, I told the bowman to haul one alongside that we might search it; but no sooner did his boathook touch it, than a shower of stones of all sizes came upon us, and one man was knocked down, apparently killed, by the blow of a large stone on the temple. We returned their volley with our fire-arms, but I believe without hitting one of them. Stones and balls continued to be exchanged till the cutter came to our assistance. The Fuegians then got behind a rock, where we could not see them and kept close. Their canoes we took, and finding in them some bottles* and part of our lost boat's gear, we destroyed them. The man of my crew who was knocked down by a stone was only stunned, and soon recovered, but the blow was very severe and dangerous. Not choosing to risk any further injury to our people, and seeing no object to be gained, I would not land, though our numbers were much superior, and we had fire-arms. It appeared that the savages knew of no alternative but escape or death, and that in trying to take them they would certainly do material injury to some of our party with their spears, stones, or large knives made of pieces of iron hoops. Remaining therefore with Lieut. Kempe, in the cutter, to watch their motions, I sent my boat on board with the man who was hurt. The Fuegians made their escape separately through the bushes, and were quickly out of sight and reach: we fired a few shots to frighten them, watched their retreat over the barren upper part of the hills, and then went to look for their wigwams, which could not be far distant, as I thought; but after unsuccessfully searching all the coves near us, a smoke was seen at the opposite side of the sound, on one of the Whittlebury islands; so concluding it was made by the rest of their tribe, and being late, I returned on board.
“9th. At daylight, next morning, I went to look for the wigwams, on the Whittlebury Islands, at the north side of the sound: we saw their smoke when we were half-way across, but no longer. The natives had probably seen us, and put out their fire directly, well knowing the difference between our boat and their own canoes, and noticing her coming from a part of the sound distant from the point whence they would expect their own people, and crossing over against a fresh breeze, which a canoe could not attempt to do. The wigwams were entirely deserted, and almost every thing was taken away; but near their huts a piece of ‘King's white line,’ quite new, was picked up; therefore our boat* had been there, or these were some of the people who stole her. For the late inmates of the wigwams we searched in vain—only their dogs remained, they themselves being hidden. Looking round on the other side of that islet, we saw two canoes paddling right away from the islands, though it was blowing a fresh breeze, and a considerable sea was running. Knowing, from the place they were in, and their course, that they were the fugitives from the wigwams, we gave chase, and came up with them before they could land, but so close to the shore that while securing one canoe, the other escaped. From that which we seized a young man and a girl jumped overboard, deserting an old woman and a child, whom we left in order to chase the young man; but he [Boat Memory] was so active in the water that it was fully a quarter of an hour before we could get him into our boat. Having at last secured him, we followed the others, but they had all landed and hidden, so we returned across the sound with our captive. In our way a smoke was seen in a cove of Waterman Island, and knowing that it must be made by those who escaped us yesterday, as there were no other natives there, we made sail for it; but the rogues saw us, and put out their fire. When we reached the spot, however, we found two wigwams just built, and covered with bark; so that there they had passed the night after their skirmish. I would not let any one land, as the Fuegians might be lurking in the bushes, and might be too much for two or three of us on shore,—but left the place. They would think us gone for more boats, as at the former meeting, and would shift their quarters immediately; so by thus harassing them, I hoped to be freed from any more of their visits while we remained in the neighbourhood.
“The bodily strength of these savages is very great (‘York Minster’ is as strong as any two of our stoutest men), which, with their agility, both on shore and in the water, and their quickness in attack and defence with stones and sticks, makes them difficult to deal with when out of their canoes. They are a brave, hardy race, and fight to the last struggle; though in the manner of a wild beast, it must be owned, else they would not, when excited, defy a whole boat's crew, and, single-handed, try to kill the men; as I have witnessed. That kindness towards these beings, and good treatment of them, is as yet useless, I almost think, both from my own experience and from much that I have heard of their conduct to sealing vessels. Until a mutual understanding can be established, moral fear is the only means by which they can be kept peaceable. As they see only vessels which when their boats are away have but a few people on board, their idea of the power of Europeans is very poor, and their dread of fire-arms not nearly so great as might be imagined.
“From this cove we returned to the Beagle. My Fuegian captive, whom I named ‘Boat Memory,’ seemed frightened, but not low-spirited; he eat enormously, and soon fell fast asleep. The meeting between him and York Minster was very tame, for, at first, they would not appear to recognise or speak to each other. ‘Boat’ was the best-featured Fuegian I had seen, and being young and well made, was a very favourable specimen of the race: ‘York’ was one of the stoutest men I had observed among them; but little Fuegia was almost as broad as she was high: she seemed to be so merry and happy, that I do not think she would willingly have quitted us. Three natives of Tierra del Fuego, better suited for the purpose of instruction, and for giving, as well as receiving information, could not, I think, have been found.
“10th. This morning, having been well cleaned and dressed, ‘Boat’ appeared contented and easy; and being together, kept York and him in better spirits than they would probably otherwise have been, for they laughed, and tried to talk, by imitating whatever was said. Fuegia soon began to learn English, and to say several things very well. She laughed and talked with her countrymen incessantly.
“12th. Some evenings, at dusk, I observed large flights of birds, of the petrel kind, skimming over the sea (like swallows), as if in chase of insects. These birds were black, about the size of a ‘Cape Pigeon.’ We tried to shoot one, but did not succeed.”
CHAPTER XXII
Mr. Murray returns—Go to New Year Sound—See Diego Ramirez Islands from Henderson Island—Weddell's Indian Cove—Sympiesometer—Return to Christmas Sound—Beagle sails—Passes the Ildefonso and Diego Ramirez Islands—Anchors in Nassau Bay—Orange Bay—Yapoos—Mr. Murray discovers the Beagle Channel—Numerous Natives—Guanacoes—Compasses affected—Cape Horn—Specimens—Chanticleer—Mistake about St. Francis Bay—Diego Ramirez Islands Climate—San Joachim Cove—Barnevelt Isles—Evouts Isle—Lennox Harbour.
“14th. This morning the master returned, having succeeded in tracing the coast far enough to join our former work, although the weather had been very unfavourable. He met with many Fuegians, most of whom were armed with slings, spears, and cutting weapons made with pieces of iron hoop fastened on a stick. They were very troublesome, especially at night, and obliged him to keep them at a distance. Their respect for a musket was not so great as might have been expected, and unless they saw it tolerably close, and pointed directly at them, they cared not. The boat's crew bought some fish from them, for buttons and other trifles. From forty to fifty men, besides women and children, were seen in one place alone; and many were met elsewhere.
“Mr. Murray penetrated nearly to the base of the snow-covered mountains, which extend to the eastward in an unbroken chain, and ascertained that there are passages leading from Christmas Sound to the large bay where the whale-boat was stolen; and that they run near the foot of the mountains. He also saw a channel leading farther to the eastward than eye-sight could reach, whose average width seemed to be about a mile. He left the two children in charge of an old woman whom they met near the westernmost part which his party reached, who appeared to know them well, and to be very much pleased at having them placed in her care.
“15th. Raining and blowing:—as usual, I might say. When it moderated I left the Beagle, and set out in a boat with Mr. Wilson (mate), taking a fortnight's provisions; though I hoped to be again on board in less than ten days, by which time our new boat would be finished, and Mr. Stokes, as well as Mr. Murray, would have laid down his last work. My object was to go eastward towards Indian Sound and Nassau Bay, but the weather soon stopped our progress, and obliged us to put into a small cove on the west side of Point Nativity, where we hoped to get shelter from the increasing wind, though not from the rain, which poured down in torrents. The cove proved to be much exposed, but we staid there till daylight on the following morning, when we pulled out, and round the point to the eastward, gladly enough, for we had been in a bad berth during the night, exposed to wind and rain, besides swell. We ran along the land, with a moderate westerly wind, stopped for a time near Cape Rolle, the point of land next to Weddell's ‘Hope Island;’ and in the evening went into some openings among the adjacent islands.
“17th. At daylight we set out again, and ran along-shore with a fresh west wind, crossed the mouth of a bay which seemed likely to afford shelter, but did not then delay to look at it closely. Soon after noon we passed Weddell's ‘Leading Hill,’ which is a very singular double-peaked height, conspicuous from a long distance, and remarkable in every point of view. Between it and Black Point (a projecting craggy rock) lies a bay or sound, which appears to extend some distance northward. This part of the coast is bad for vessels to close with, being much broken, and having several rocky islets scattered near it; but two miles off shore there is no danger. Having found a secure cove near Leading Hill, we landed, and the men set up our tent, while Mr. Wilson and I ascended the heights to look round. The wind soon freshened to a gale, and made us rejoice at having reached a sheltered place.
“18th. The whole of this day was lost by us, for it blew a strong gale with continual rain. Collecting limpets and muscles—cutting wood—and drying our clothes on one side by the fire, while the other got wet, were our only occupations.
“19th. Still a strong wind, but less rain. Between the squalls I obtained a few sights of the sun, for time, and at noon a tolerably good set for latitude. Being then better weather, and likely to improve, we crossed in the boat to Leading Hill, and from its summit took the necessary angles. It was very cold and windy, but we effected all that was then required.
“20th. Decamped very early and ran across Duff Bay, towards Henderson Island, with a moderately fresh breeze off the land; and as my object was to obtain a good view and a round of angles from the summit of a height on that island, I passed Weddell's Morton Isle, Blunder Cove, &c. without stopping, and reached the north end of Henderson Island soon enough to get sights for time. From that spot we went a short distance to a cove, where the boat might remain during my absence on the hill, observed the latitude, and then ascended. Before we were half-way up, a squall came on from S.W. and increased rapidly, but having ascended so far, I was not disposed to turn back, so we pushed on and reached the summit; yet, when there, I could not use a theodolite, on account of the wind. Towards the east I could see a long distance, to the farthest of the Hermite Islands; but towards the west the view was obscured by haze; so leaving the instruments, I hastened down to the boat and found her safe, though she had been in great danger. By this time the wind had moderated, and before dark we measured the distance between the morning and noon stations: that from the latter to the summit of the hill I had measured, when at the top, by a micrometer. We then passed round the north end of the island, and in the dark searched the east side for a resting-place, which after some time was found.
“21st. A fine clear day enabled me to make the necessary observations, and I then went up the height and succeeded in obtaining a distinct view of the Diego Ramirez Islands. As this hill is distant from them between fifty and sixty miles, I felt sure of getting a good cross bearing from the south end of the Hermite Islands, distant from them, as I then thought, only about forty, and thus fixing their position.
“New Year Sound appears to be a large body of water extending towards the N.W., with a multitude of islands scattered about it. From its east side the land trends away towards a point which is curiously peaked, like a horn, and which I supposed to be the western point of Nassau Bay.*
“22d. We had hardly left our cove, when steady rain set in; however, we went across towards New Year Sound, sometimes favoured by the wind, but could do little. As far as I saw the day before, the snowy chain of mountains continued to the eastward, therefore I had little hope of finding a body of water in the interior of Tierra del Fuego, about the head of Nassau Bay. About noon we were near Weddell's ‘Indian Cove,’ but the weather being thick I did not recognise it, so we stood up the sound with a fresh breeze from the W.S.W. I soon found that it led only to the north and west, and probably communicated with some of the passages which Mr. Murray saw leading to the eastward from the neighbourhood of Christmas Sound. Towards the north and east I had already noticed a long range of mountains. Concluding therefore from what I then observed, and from views obtained from the heights, that no passage leads from this sound direct to Christmas Sound, and that to return to the Beagle I must go part of the way by the sea-coast, or else go round, by a series of intricate passages, to the places which Mr. Murray had seen in the cutter; I preferred the coast, as a second view of it would be of use, while a traverse among the islands could not be very beneficial.
“Putting about, we returned down the sound, the breeze still allowing us to sail fast. We closed the western shore to look for Indian Cove, and, as the weather had cleared up, found it without difficulty. It is not so good a place as I expected; for except at the inner corner close to a run of water, I found only rocky soundings. The few casts of good ground were so close to the shore that the place can only be considered fit for a cutter, or small craft, which could lie quite close to the land. This cove is, in my opinion, too far inland to be of general use; and an anchorage under Morton Island would be far preferable for a vessel arriving from sea. We found an empty North American cask, apparently left that season: on a height near the cove there was a pile of stones we had not time to examine: and much wood appeared to have been cut down lately by the crew of some vessel. We saw several wigwams, but no Indians. That night we stopped near the S.W. point of the sound, close to Gold-dust Island.
“23d. After examining the cove, in which we passed the night, and taking observations, we crossed Duff Bay, towards Leading Hill. I wished to have seen more of a promising bay on the east side of Morton Island, where I thought there was good anchorage, but could not afford time, as it was probable that we should be delayed in our return along this exposed part of the coast against the prevailing winds. There is a considerable tide between Morton Isle and the point next to Golddust Isle. The flood comes from the westward, about one knot, or at times two knots, an hour. With the ebb it is nearly slack water, or perhaps there is a slight tendency towards the west; and such appears to be the case all along this coast, from Christmas Sound. We reached Leading Hill late in the afternoon, although the wind had increased much and was directly against us: at night it blew a gale from the westward.
“24th. A strong gale prevented our moving, or making any beneficial use of our time.
“25th. Still blowing very fresh; but I thought we could pull round into the next bay, and there do some good by planning the harbour, &c., although we might get no farther for some days. From the season, the state of the sympiesometer, and the appearance of the weather, I did not expect any favourable change until about the end of the month. The sympiesometer was my constant companion: I preferred it to a barometer, as being much more portable and quicker in its motions. By great exertion on the part of the men, for it required five hours' hard pulling, we got round a headland into the next bay, a distance of only four miles. It rained great part of the time, and in the afternoon poured steadily, but we succeeded in finding a sheltered spot for our lodging, and soon put ourselves into somewhat better plight than we had been in during the greater part of the day, the men having been constantly soaked through, and their hands quite numbed with cold and wet. I was disappointed by this place; the various coves were sounded, without getting bottom with twenty-five fathoms of line; and I could find no anchorage without going further up the inlet than would suit any vessel running in from sea for a temporary shelter.
“26th. A strong gale prevented our going outside, but in hopes that there might be an inland passage I set out to look for one. Having pulled and sailed about six miles up the inlet, we reached its termination, and thence returned to our bivouac. There seemed to be an opening into Duff Bay not previously seen, which would have saved us some time and trouble had we known of its existence.
“27th. The gale continued with more or less violence, and during the greater part of the day we were occupied in gathering limpets and muscles, as a stock of food in case of being detained longer than our provisions would last. Shooting did not succeed, because the sea-birds were very wild and scarce. I regretted that there was no harbour in the inlet which could be planned during our stay. Every cove we could find had deep water, and so rocky a bottom that we found difficulty in securing even our small boat; for this continued gale raised so much swell that we were kept on the alert at night to shift her berth as often as the wind changed.
“28th. This day, and the preceding night, the wind was exceedingly violent, from N.W. to S.W., but generally southward of west. In pulling across the cove to get limpets, the squalls at times forced the oars out of the men's hands, and blew them across or away from the boat. Much rain fell during most nights, but after sunrise it generally ceased; sometimes however the rain poured down by day as much as by night.
“I here saw many seals teaching their young ones to swim. It was curious to see the old seal supporting the pup by its flipper, as if to let it breathe and rest, and then pushing it away into deep water to shift for itself.
“29th. This morning, with better weather, we sailed very early in hopes to get round Black Point; the wind being moderate promised well, but, with the sun, it rose again. However, we tried hard for about six hours, during four of which I hardly hoped to succeed, for it blew strong, and the tide race was dangerous: but before evening we gained the sheltered part of Trefusis Bay. The men were on their oars from five in the morning till four in the afternoon, and, excepting two rests of a quarter of an hour each, pulling hard all the time. We landed in a sheltered spot, about half a mile within the entrance of a passage which leads from Trefusis Bay to Christmas Sound. Our fatigue and thorough drenching, by sea and rain, was then little cared for, having gained our point, and being only a day's pull from the Beagle.
“I had seen along this passage from Christmas Sound, as well as from Leading Hill, and rejoiced to get into it, for the outer coast is a wild one for a boat at any period of the year—and this was the month of March; about the worst time.
“30th. A fine clear morning. We started with the sun, and pulled so fast along in the smooth water, that by the evening we reached our little vessel, and found that all was well on board; that there had been no more visits from the Fuegians, nor any troubles. The new boat was finished on the 23d, only twenty days having been occupied by Mr. May and three men in building her. Appearance was very much in her favour, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which she was built. Lieutenant Kempe had finished all the ship's work with his usual promptness: new topmast rigging had been fitted, and every thing prepared for sea. I was two days over the time for which we carried provisions, but by my coxswain's care of them, and by using limpets and other shell-fish, we still had a sufficiency.
“Having seen as much as seemed necessary of the coast between Christmas Sound and Nassau Bay (I mean necessary in proportion to our limited time and provisions), the Ildefonsos and Diego Ramirez Isles were to be our next objects.
“31st. A strong wind, with much rain, prevented our moving early—but as the sun rose higher the weather improved, and we tried to weigh,—yet were provokingly delayed, for the chain was so fast round a rock, that for nearly an hour we could not move it. At last we succeeded, without injury to anything—left the harbour, and stood away for the Ildefonsos with a strong W.S.W. wind and a confused high swell.
“March Harbour (so called from our having passed the month of March in it) is not so good as I at first thought. The bottom is certainly excellent in some parts; it is well sheltered, and easy of access, but there are many rocky places which would injure a hemp cable. Besides, there is a dangerous rock under water in the wide part of the harbour, hidden by a large patch of kelp.
“We passed along the S.W. side of the Ildefonsos, at the distance of half a mile. They appeared like the higher parts of a mountain almost under water, lying N.W. and S.E., nearly broken through by the sea in several places, so as to form several islets, of which the highest and largest is about two hundred feet above the sea, and one-third of a mile in length; another is about one-quarter of a mile long; the rest are mere rocks. The two larger are covered with tussac,* among which we saw numerous seal which had scrambled up to the very summits. Having seen enough of these islets, we hauled our wind, and shortened sail, to prepare for the night: for it blew a fresh gale, with every appearance of its increasing and drawing to the southward. I wished to make the Diego Ramirez Islands the next morning, and thence run to the north-eastward; and, had the wind been moderate, could have done so without difficulty; but after carrying a press of sail during the night, and making southing, with as little easting as possible, I found myself, at daylight next morning, five miles to leeward of the above-mentioned islands, with the wind strong from the N.W., and too much sea to allow me to hope to see more of them without remaining under sail until the weather moderated. This would not have suited the chronometers, or our limited time; therefore we wore round and steered (by Weddell's chart) for the western part of the Hermite Islands, intending to run along the land from West Cape. The wind became more moderate towards noon, but the weather got so thick that no part of the land could be made out distinctly; and supposing that a point of land which I saw was Cape Spencer, we steered directly for it, as the day was drawing to a close and obliged me to give up my intention of coasting. Nearing the land, I found it resembled the point I had seen from Henderson Island, and supposed to be the S.W. extreme of Nassau Bay, but did not correspond to any part of the Hermite Islands, as shewn by Captain King's plan. Evening was approaching, thick misty clouds shut out other land from our view, but being a weather shore, I trusted to finding anchorage somewhere, and stood on.
“The wind increased, and blew in very strong squalls off shore, obliging us to carry low sail until we had run several miles along the land in smooth water, when we anchored at the entrance of a bay, in thirteen fathoms water, over a coarse sandy bottom. A low projecting point covered us from the force of the wind as it then blew; and the land on each side from all other westerly winds: but the squalls increased so violently in the early part of the night, that although in smooth water, with eighty fathoms of chain out, the top-gallant masts down, and yards braced up, the vessel drove, and we were obliged to let go another anchor, and veer a long scope of cable; after which she held on firmly through the night.
“2d. At daylight we hove up the best bower, but found one fluke broken off. After getting the sheet anchor to the bows, and the broken one in-board, we weighed and made sail to windward, in search of a good anchorage. When the weather cleared in the morning, I had discovered that we were in Nassau Bay, near Orange Bay, and that the curiously-peaked headland we had passed was ‘False Cape Horn,’ the same which I had seen from Henderson Island. Finding this the case, I determined to turn the mistake to account, and at once set to work in this quarter, postponing our visit to the Hermite Islands. Short runs were essential, because of the chronometers, and this last had been a long one for them, with much motion, therefore it was necessary I should get observations.
“Towards noon the weather cleared and became very fine, with a light breeze from the northward. We stood across near the north end of the Hermite Islands, carrying soundings right across; but the view we obtained of the head of Nassau Bay, did not encourage us to hope for either interior waters or a passage, as the mountains seemed to continue in an unbroken chain to the eastward of New Island, and from the mast-head I saw other high mountains far to the eastAvard. In the afternoon we stood into a fine-looking clear bay, well sheltered, and with regular soundings, from twelve to twenty fathoms over fine sand. I afterwards found that this was Orange Bay, and that the bay at the south point of which we anchored last night was that called, by the Dutch, Schapenham Bay. Being a large, roomy place, with even bottom, we remained at single anchor; but the glass had been falling so much, and was then so extremely low, that I thought it prudent to prepare for the worst, and struck topmasts.
“During the latter part of our stay in Christmas Sound, and up to the present time, our sick-list had been considerable, therefore I was not sorry to gain a safe anchorage in a place which appeared likely to afford the means of recruiting our invalids, and restoring them to health. Colds and rheumatisms, owing to bleak winds and much wet, were the chief complaints. This was the only time since the Beagle left Rio de Janeiro that her sick-list had been worthy of notice.
“Notwithstanding the unusual fall of the barometer and sympiesometer and their still continuing to sink, this day was as fine, and seemed as likely to continue so, as any day I had ever seen, therefore we took advantage of it, by getting the necessary observations for time, latitude, and true bearing; by airing bedding, and cleaning the ship throughout. This appeared to be an excellent place for vessels: the land around is rather low, and looked much more cheerful than the high dismal mountains under which we last anchored. Wood and water were plentiful, and easily obtained. Wild-fowl were numerous, and our people brought on board a serviceable supply, enough for all the sick, and for most of those who were in health.
“3d and 4th. Still very fine weather, although the barometer and sympiesometer were lower than I had yet seen them in this country. Our Fuegians were becoming very cheerful, and apparently contented. We gave them as much fresh provision (birds and fish) as we could obtain with guns and lines, and hitherto they had fared very well. All that was shot went to one stock, from which it was divided in rotation to the messes, the sick being first provided for, and then the Fuegians.
“5th and 6th. Two more fine days, with a very low glass, shook my faith in the certainty of the barometer and sympiesometer.* During those days, the wind had been light from N.N.W., and twice before I had known these instruments to be similarly affected during exactly similar wind and weather: once at Fort Desire, on the coast of Patagonia; and once at Port Gallant, while I was in the Otway Water.
“The master went towards the head of Nassau Bay, and Mr. Stokes set out in the opposite direction. Mr. Murray had one of our best chronometers, kept in a box, well packed in wool, but exposed to the temperature of the air. Before going away and after returning, it was kept and rated in the same box on deck, because the variations of temperature in the open air of this climate are small; much less than a chronometer would experience if alternating between a warm cabin and a cold boat. I was sadly grieved at finding that some Fuegians who arrived were not of the same tribe as our captives, nor even spoke the same language. On the contrary, much enmity appeared to exist between them; though their colour, features, and habits were similar. At first, ‘York’ and ‘Boat’ would not go near them; but afterwards took delight in trying to cheat them out of the things they offered to barter; and mocked their way of speaking and laughing; pointing at them, and calling them ‘Yapoo, yapoo.’ ‘Fuegia’ went on deck; but the instant she saw them, screamed and ran away. Some one told her, in jest, to go into their canoe and live with them, which frightened her so much, that she burst into tears and ran below to hide herself. After they were gone, ‘Boat and ‘York’ made us understand they had had fights with that tribe, and shewed the scars of wounds received from them. By the help of signs we could comprehend much of their meaning; but very few words were yet learned on either side. We afterwards found that these Yapoos built their wigwams in a manner differing from that of the western tribes, being made of a number of poles, or pieces of wood, placed on end around a small space, and meeting at the top.
“Our Yapoo acquaintances established themselves in the bay near our forge, but without attempting to steal any thing. They frequently came alongside the ship with fish, which they caught in the kelp. They take these fish by means of a line without a hook, having only a small piece of bait at the end, with which to entice them to the top of the water, close to the side of the canoe. A fish bites, and before it can detach its small teeth from the soft, tough bait, the hand holding the line jerks the prize above the water, and the other catches it. The fisher then bites out a large piece of its belly, takes out the inside, and hangs the fish on a stick by the fire in the canoe.
“10th. Still fine steady weather, notwithstanding the unusually low fall of the barometer already mentioned.
“12th. By the assistance of Mr. May, at the forge, we made one good anchor out of two broken ones, and fitted new hawse-plates where they were worn through, by constantly using the chains. Fortunately, we brought from San Carlos a good supply of iron and coals, and applied the latter only to the use of the armourer and the small stoves, so that we were enabled to use the forge very often; and between the wants of the ship and those of the boats, there was always much work for that most useful appendage.
“The glasses had at last been rising; and during the past night and this day, the wind was very strong with much rain. The wind shifted from the northern quarter into the southern, drawing round to the S.E.; which, of course, would make the mercury rise higher after being so very low, though the weather might prove extremely bad.
“14th. The master returned, and surprised me with the information that he had been through and far beyond Nassau Bay. He had gone very little to the northward, but a long distance to the east, having passed through a narrow passage, about one-third of a mile wide, which led him into a straight channel, averaging about two miles or more in width, and extending nearly east and west as far as the eye could reach.§ Westward of the passage by which he entered, was an opening to the northwest; but as his orders specified north and east, he followed the eastern branch of the channel, looking for an opening on either side, without success. Northward of him lay a range of mountains, whose summits were covered with snow, which extended about forty miles, and then sunk into ordinary hills that, near the place which he reached, shewed earthy or clayey cliffs towards the water. From the clay cliffs his view was unbroken by any land in an E.S.E. direction, therefore he must have looked through an opening at the outer sea. His provisions being almost exhausted, he hastened back.
“On the south side of the channel there were likewise mountains of considerable elevation; but, generally speaking, that shore was lower than the opposite. Mr. Murray saw great numbers of natives near the narrow passage and upwards of a hundred canoes were seen in one day, each containing from two to six people. These Fuegians had much guanaco skin, and many of the bones of that animal made into spear-heads, but very little seal-skin. The wigwams were large and commodious, compared with those of the western tribes, being built of small trees piled up endwise, and tied together at the top, their outside being covered with bushes, grass. &c. to keep out the cold, and the earth inside scooped out much below the surface of the ground. Some could hold about twice as many people as the western wigwams: but all were not so large. Every canoe gave chase to our boat, eager to see the strangers, and exchange small fish, spear-heads, or arrows, for buttons, beads, and other trifles. No arms or offensive weapons were seen among them, excepting fish spears, bows, arrows, and slings: they had not even clubs, nor such lances as are used by the western tribes. They seemed to be more tractable, and less disposed to quarrel than those of the west. Wherever the boat went, she was followed by a train of canoes, each full of people, and having a fire smoking in the middle. Where they got the guanaco skins was a question not easy to answer. Was there a passage to the northward, by which they could trade with the people living there?—or were there guanacoes in the southern part of Tierra del Fuego? Both the bones and skins seemed abundant; but the people made signs to Mr. Murray that they came from the eastward:—none pointed towards the north. One native showed how they ran, and their shape, and how they were killed, also the kind of noise they made.
“15th. Mr. Stokes returned, after going a long way to the north and west, without finding a passage into New Year Sound. His examination, united to Mr. Murray's, almost completed the north and west part of Nassau Bay; and only the east side remained to be explored. Our anchorage, called Orange Bay, is excellent; and one of the few on this coast which are fit for a squadron of line-of-battle ships. Its approach from the sea is as easy as the harbour is commodious. There are three fathoms close to the shore; yet in no part are there more than twenty; and every where there is a sandy bottom. Water is abundant; wood grows close to the sea; wild-fowl are numerous; and although shell-fish are scarce, plenty of small fish may be caught with hook and line among the kelp, and in the summer a seine will furnish abundance.
“On the 16th we left Orange Bay, but light winds prevented our reaching the open sea that day, or during the following night. I was equally disposed to run out again to the Diego Ramirez—to look at the coast west of False Cape for about ten miles—or to run for the Bay of St. Francis; but the wind failed entirely. During the night we had a breeze that would have carried us down to the latter spot, but wishing to see, and take bearings of the land as I went, I did not profit by it; and in the morning was baffled with light airs and a current setting to the northward.
“17th. During the early part of the day we had light variable winds, scarcely sufficient to help us against the current which seemed to set constantly into the bay, from the sea, at the rate of about one knot an hour. The manner in which our compasses were affected in this bay was remarkable; all of them being extremely sluggish, and, unless continually shaken, they did not show the proper magnetic bearings, or agree together, nearer than two points. I sharpened the centres with much care, and examined the agate caps, without improving the results. The compasses considered the best in other places, were here as bad as the worst; an excellent one, upon Alexander's principle, with central jimbals, being nearly useless. In trying the compasses on shore, the heavy cards with large needles had been less affected by local influence than light delicate cards of Kater: the heavy ones having averaged 24° variation along the whole coast, though Kater's differed in some places as much as from 19° to 28°; agreeing nearly with each other, but not with Gilbert's or Alexander's compasses, in both of which were cards comparatively heavy.
“We passed much too close to West Cape, but having fortunately cleared it, ran along the land before a moderate breeze, and rounded Cape Spencer at dusk. The weather was so thick that Cape Horn could not be seen, and we mistook the former for the famous cape; especially as, in that view, the lower part of Cape Spencer looked like the head of a double-horned rhinoceros: but as we drew nearer, Cape Horn appeared. The wind failed as we entered the Bay of St. Francis, and left us to the alternative of anchoring in deep water, or driving about with the current: we therefore anchored off San Joachim Cove, near the Seal Rock. The night proved fine, so we lay quietly till next morning, and then made sail to a breeze from the northward and anchored in San Martin Cove. I afterwards went in a boat to Horn Island, to ascertain the nature of the landing, and whether it was practicable to carry any instruments to the summit of the Cape. Many places were found where a boat might land; and more than one spot where she could be hauled ashore: so that taking instruments to the summit did not seem likely to be a very difficult task. As the weather continued favourable I returned on board that night, and the next morning (19th) arranged for a visit to Cape Horn; a memorial having been previously prepared, and securely enclosed in a stone jar.
After taking observations at noon for latitude, we set out, carrying five days' provisions, a good chronometer, and other instruments. We landed before dark, hauled our boat up in safety on the north-east side, and established ourselves for the night on Horn Island.
“20th. At daybreak we commenced our walk across the island, each carrying his load; and by the time the sun was high enough for observing, were near the summit, and exactly in its meridian; so we stopped while I took two sets of sights and a round of angles. Soon afterwards we reached the highest point of the Cape, and immediately began our work; I and my coxswain, with the instruments; and Lieut. Kempe with the boat's crew raising a pile of stones over the memorial.
“At first the Diego Ramirez Islands were seen, but before I could get the theodolite fixed and adjusted, the horizon became hazy. At noon satisfactory sets of circum-meridional altitudes were obtained with two good sextants. A round of angles, compass bearings for the variation, and good afternoon sights for time completed our success. The pile made over our memorial was eight feet high, and in it were stones which required the united exertions of all seven men to raise to the top. We drank the health of His Majesty King George the Fourth, and gave three hearty cheers, standing round the Union Jack. Directly all was finished we travelled towards our boat as fast as possible: but darkness surrounded us before we were more than half-way. Those who had loads which would not be hurt by tumbling about among bushes, travelled on; but, having the chronometer and a sextant to take care of, I waited till one of the men returned with a lantern. All reached the boat before nine o'clock, without losing or injuring any thing; but the cargo of stones, for specimens, which each brought back, delayed our returning progress materially.
“At day-light (21st) we launched and stowed our boat, and set out on our return. We reached the ship that afternoon, well laden with fragments of Cape Horn.
“22d. Since the end of March the weather had been more settled, and much finer than we had yet had it on any part of the coast; but our visit to Horn Island was only just in time, for it soon changed again to blowing and raining. Being close to the head of the cove, we did not feel the williwaws—though they appeared to blow sharply enough about the middle of it. I did not wonder at the American, whom we met in the Strait of Magalhaens, saying that he saw ‘marks of a very large establishment;’ for the head of this cove appeared to have been colonized by the Chanticleer, so many remains of wooden roads and wooden houses were visible every where.
“23d—24th. Bad weather. I was waiting anxiously for an opportunity of getting a true bearing of Diego Ramirez, from the top of Kater Peak, or Cape Spencer, to cross the bearings obtained from Henderson Island.
“25th. I went up to the summit of the Peak, but found so thick a haze, that no distant object could be seen. Leaving the instruments at the top, after taking a few angles, and observations of the sun for true bearings, I descended, and afterwards examined St. Bernard Cove, which appeared to be a good harbour. By comparing the old charts with this place and Nassau Bay, I became convinced that there had been a great mistake, and that the Bay of Nassau is, or rather was, the bay of St. Francis; and that the plan given in the Admiralty charts is a very fair sketch of its west side, from False Cape to Packsaddle Island; but the bottom and east side of the bay are evidently put in at random, and would have been better left out to give place to the words, ‘Land was seen in this direction.’ Neither in shape, bearings, distance, or soundings, does that plan correspond with the place now called St. Francis Bay; but it does agree very closely, considering the date of its being made, with the part I have mentioned. The words Cape Horn may have misled the compiler, as the plan does not show any latitude or longitude, and those who since visited the place, previously to the Beagle's arrival, had not been in Nassau Bay.
“26th. Another fine day. I went up the peak again and obtained the desired angles; but Diego Ramirez appeared nearly as distant as when seen from the top of Henderson Island. Meanwhile the Beagle was unmoored and got under sail. I reached her outside the cove, and stood to seaward; but the day was too fine, there being little or no wind till dark, when a light breeze carried us out of the bay. I steered for the Diego Ramirez Islands, anxious to profit by the fine weather, and examine them more closely.
“27th. The water being smooth, we had a good opportunity of taking angles for placing the coast between West Cape and Cape Spencer, which completed what was wanting in that part; afterwards, we again steered towards the Diego Ramirez.
“28th. A fine morning with a fresh breeze, just such as we desired. Having kept our wind under easy sail during the night, we bore up, and, at daylight, ran along the east side of the rocky cluster, the wind being from the N.E. We hove-to frequently to take angles and soundings, and sailed quite round the islands at the average distance of half amile, and then stood away to the northward. They are quite similar to the Ildefonsos; the top of a ridge of hills showing above the water, and broken through by the sea. The two largest are about two hundred feet high, and are covered with tussac: there is a shingle beach on one (the second in size), where a boat may be hauled up in safety; and there is enough good water on the east side of the same island to supply thirty men. A furious surf breaks against the west shore, and sends a spray over the whole island. There is no sheltered anchorage for a vessel: for though she might bring up in deep water, on the eastern side of the group, for a short time, she would even then risk losing her anchor. The least water I found was fifty fathoms, though Weddell's chart shows that there is less than forty off the S.E. end. The heavy swell prevented my landing; but the appearance of the rocks induced me to suppose that they were greenstone. If not of that nature, and similar to the rock about Cape Horn, they may be of very hard sandstone.
“29th. In this climate, during the few intervals of settled fine weather, the sky is frequently overcast soon after sunset, and a slight shower falls. I noticed this frequently here, as well as during the preceding April, May, and June, in the Strait.
“We stood into the bay which lies between False Cape and New Year Sound; but it offered nothing inviting to a ship, being a leeward bight, with rocks and islets scattered along it near the shore. Perhaps there is shelter for a vessel amongst them; but I would not choose their neighbourhood, if it could be avoided, as the bay is exposed to the S.W. winds, which on this coast are the worst. The breeze freshening, and drawing to the northward, enabled us to reach Cape Spencer in the evening, when, as the weather promised ill, I was glad to anchor in eighteen fathoms, over a sandy bottom, off the entrance of San Joachim Cove.
“Expecting wind, we sent top-gallant masts on deck, braced up, and veered to eighty fathoms. After eight the weather cleared, and appeared likely to remain fine, but the glasses continued to fall. At ten a sudden heavy squall came over the land, and the tops of the hills became thickly covered with clouds. Successive furious gusts followed: we let go a second anchor, and veered a whole cable on each. The squalls came most violently from the S.W., and in half an hour the bank of clouds disappeared; but a strong gale from S.W. continued till daylight, when it moderated. Cape Spencer protected us very well, both from wind and sea: should a ship wish to enter San Martin Cove, and the wind or daylight fail her, she will find this spot a convenient stopping-place.
“30th. The Beagle unmoored, got under sail, and stood towards Cape Horn: at noon she was close to the famous Cape, with beautifully fine weather, more like the climate of Madeira than that of fifty-six south latitude. During this day I had excellent opportunities of taking angles, bearings, and soundings, which I hoped would be sufficient for the south and east sides of the Hermite Islands. The following night we worked to the northward, near the Barnevelt Islands, the weather being fine, and the moon shining brightly.
“May 1st. A beautiful day—May-day indeed, I landed on the Barnevelt Islands, and took sights for time, latitude, and true bearing, besides a round of angles, while the Beagle was making slow progress to the northward, the wind being very light, and variable. There is no good landing-place on those islands; but as the water was then comparatively smooth, we were enabled to land upon a steep rocky part, where the surf did not break much. They are two low islets, lying nearly north and south, covered with grass, tussac, and weeds. The largest is about half a mile long, and one-third of a mile wide; the other is about two cables' length square. Several rocks lie off the south end, towards both the east and west; and one above water lies detached, towards the Hermite Islands, nearly in mid-channel: but no other appearance of danger was visible. The angles gained here, crossing those from Orange Bay , bounded the Hermite Islands towards the north—though the detail of their coast-line, northwards, yet remained to be ascertained.
“2d. As fine a day as the preceding. We were close to Evouts, an islet similar to the Barnevelts, but rather higher. The weather enabled Mr. Wilson to continue his sketches of the coast: but indeed no part along which we sailed had been quite omitted. In the afternoon we closed the shore near New Island, and were looking out sharply for banks and shoals, fancying, because the land looked lower, and the Nassau flat had shoal soundings, that we should find banks detached from the land. Shoaler water we certainly found, compared with that to which we had been lately accustomed, namely, from fifteen to twenty fathoms, gradually decreasing as we neared the shore, but we never had less than ten till we were standing into a harbour in the evening. I could here trace no resemblance whatever to any published chart; but seeing a place at the back of some low islets which appeared likely to afford sheltered anchorage, we steered for it, and at sunset anchored in a well-sheltered harbour§ on the east side of a large island, to the west of New Island. The water shoaled gradually, over a fine sandy bottom; but we ran in rather too far, and had only three fathoms after veering cable, so we were obliged to shift our berth.
“3d. Mr. Murray prepared to go along the coast towards Cape Good Success, carrying one of the chronometers, and other necessary instruments, and taking three weeks' provisions. He set out, in a whale-boat, with six men, well armed and equipped in every way. Having despatched the master, I prepared for an excursion into the interior passages of this part of Tierra del Fuego: while Mr. Stokes, in another boat, was to continue the survey of the coast from the east side of the head of Nassau Bay to the vicinity of New Island; and Lieut. Kempe would take care of the ship, and forward her refitting, besides wooding and watering.
CHAPTER XXIII
Set out in boats—Find Guanacoes—Murray Narrow—Birch Fungus—Tide—Channel—Glaciers—View—Mountains—Unbroken chain—Passages—Steam-vessels—Jemmy Button—Puma—Nest—Accident—Natives—Murray's Journal—Cape Graham—Cape Kinnaird—Spaniard Harbour—Valentyn Bay—Cape Good Success—Natives—Lennox Island—Strait Le Maire—Good Success Bay—Accident—Tide Race—San Vicente—San Diego—Tides—Soundings—North-east Coast—San Sebastian—Reflections—Port Desire—Monte Video—Santa Catharina—Rio de Janeiro.
“4th. Mr. Stokes and I each began another trip in the boats, taking chronometers, and the necessary instruments. He steered to the northward, to get to the mainland; I kept outside to the south-westward, to make the most direct course towards the communication between Nassau Bay and the newly discovered passage or channel. I was surprised to find that the eastern shore of Nassau Bay resembled much of the coast of Patagonia (being a stratum of earth without rock), and differed entirely from the general character of the coasts and islands of Tierra del Fuego. At sunset we landed,§ and hauled up our boat on a shingle beach which extended several miles, and upon walking only a few yards inland I saw the prints of large cloven hoofs, almost the size of those of a cow. This discovery gave an answer to the question about the guanaco skins and bones found among the Fuegians, but made me less sanguine of finding a passage northward through the interior of the country. Much brushwood was found near this place; and a profusion of rich grass covered an extensive plain.
“5th. We launched the boat, and continued our course along-shore, finding rather shoal water (three to six fathoms within about half a mile), with a very thick bed of kelp, through which it was difficult to force the boat. We had not advanced far, when, passing round a low point of land, we saw four fine guanacoes feeding close to the water. They did not seem to be much alarmed; but walked away from us round a projecting part of the shore, which prevented our getting a shot at them. They appeared to be much larger than those I had seen near Port Desire, on the Patagonian coast, their bodies being far heavier, and their tails longer and more bushy. These differences might be the natural result of a different climate, as cool weather, with plenty of food and water, would probably increase their size. I would not delay, on their account, hoping to fall in with others, but pushed on along the shore. These animals were near what is called in the chart ‘Windhond Bay.’ In the afternoon, we were again among rocky mountains and deep-water shores, and being so fortunate as to get a fresh breeze from the S.E., made much progress before night. We saw several canoes, full of natives; but did not turn aside to speak to them, as time was too precious.
“6th. A very cold and blowing morning, the wind being against us, yet we made better progress than I had hoped for, as our boat proved to be so excellent; and whether sailing or pulling, was all we could wish for. This night we bivouacked close to the Murray Narrow, but took care not to land till after dark, and then carefully concealed the fire, so that our rest might not be disturbed by visits from the Fuegians. A sharp look-out was, of course, kept by the watch; and by my two dogs, who were very useful in that way.
“7th. Soon after we set out, many canoes were seen in chase of us; but though they paddled fast in smooth water, our boat moved too quickly for them to succeed in their endeavours to barter with us, or to gratify their curiosity. The Murray Narrow is the only passage into the long channel which runs so nearly east and west. A strong tide sets through it, the flood coming from the channel. On each side is rather low land, rising quickly into hills, behind which are mountains: those on the west side being high, and covered with snow. When we stopped to cook and eat our dinner, canoes came from all sides, bringing plenty of fish for barter. None of the natives had any arms; they seemed to be smaller in size, and less disposed to be mischievous, than the western race: their language sounded similar to that of the natives whom we saw in Orange Bay. We found a very large wigwam, built in a substantial manner, and a much better place to live in than many of the huts which are called houses in Chilóe. I think twenty men might have stood upright in it, in a circle; but, probably, of these Fuegians, it would house thirty or forty in the cold weather.
“While our men were making a fire and cooking, I walked into the wood, but found it bore little resemblance to that which our eyes had lately been accustomed to. The trees were mostly birch, but grew tall and straight. The ground was dry and covered with withered leaves, which crackled as I walked; whereas, in other parts where wehad lately passed our time, the splashing sound of wet, marshy soil had always attended our footsteps, when not on rock. These Fuegians appeared to think the excrescences which grow on the birch trees, like the gall-nuts on an oak, an estimable dainty. They offered us several, some as large as an apple, and seemed surprised at our refusal. Most of them had a small piece of guanaco, or sealskin, on their shoulders or bodies, but not enough for warmth: perhaps they did not willingly approach strangers with their usual skin dress about them, their first impulse, on seeing us, being to hide it. Several, whom I surprised at their wigwams, had large skins round their bodies, which they concealed directly they saw me. Fish and the birch fungus must be their chief food, for shell-fish are scarce and small; but they catch an abundance of excellent rock-fish, smelt, and what might be called a yellow mullet. Guanaco meat may occasionally be obtained by them, but not in sufficient quantity to be depended upon as an article of daily subsistence.
“Leaving the natives, we sailed across towards the western arm of the long channel, and continued making our way westward, with oar and sail, until dusk, when we landed, unperceived, as we thought, and established ourselves for the night. Just as we had moored the boat, kindled a fire, and pitched our tent, a canoe came into the cove; another and another followed, until we were surrounded with natives. Knowing we must either drive them away by force, or be plagued with them all night, we at once packed up our things, and wished them good evening. About three miles further westward, we again landed, and fixed our tent in a cove, which gave us good shelter through the night, without any interruption. It was high water this afternoon at four o'clock (being the day of full moon), and the tide rose three feet. The channel here, and opposite the Narrow, is about three miles wide; on its north side is an unbroken line of high mountains, covered with snow to within about a thousand feet of the water. Southward are likewise snow-covered heights, so that the channel is formed by the valley lying between two parallel ridges of high mountains.
“8th. This morning it froze very sharply. We started at sun-rise, with a fine breeze from the eastward, and made a long run before it. The channel preserved the same character, and nearly the same width; on the north, the mountains continued without any opening; but a few miles farther, we saw what appeared to be one. I soon found that there was one passage leading westward, and another rather to the southward of west, which appeared to open into the sea. The easterly breeze failing, and squalls from the N.W. succeeding, we did not make much progress in the afternoon; yet before dark had reached the place where the two channels commence, and stopped for the night on a small island. Soon after dark, one of the boat's crew was startled by two large eyes staring at him, out of a thick bush, and he ran to his companions, saying he had seen the devil! A hearty laugh at his expense was followed by a shot at the bush, which brought to the ground a magnificent horned owl.
“Next day, we continued our westerly route. No natives were seen, though a few wigwams, of the round-topped kind, were passed. The westernmost sharp-pointed, or Yapoo wigwam, was on the main-land, close to the island of the Devil; it was made of small trees, piled up in a circle (the branches and roots having been broken off) vdth the smaller ends meeting at the top. The boat's crew said it had been a ‘Meeting-House,’ and perhaps they were not far wrong; for being so large, and just on what might be called neutral ground between the two tribes, it is not unlikely that there may have been many a meeting there—perhaps many a battle. At the separation, or meeting of the two channels, it was high water at a quarter before five this morning, and the flood came from the west, about a knot an hour; the ebb-tide set to the west at about half that strength. Much drift-wood and large fragments of ice were carried along with it. Between some of the mountains the ice extended so widely as to form immense glaciers, which were faced, towards the water, by lofty cliffs. During a beautifully fine and still night, the view from our fireside, in this narrow channel, was most striking, though confined. Thickly-wooded and very steep mountains shut us in on three sides, and opposite, distant only a few miles, rose an immense barrier of snow-covered mountains, on which the moon was shining brightly. The water between was so glassy, that their outline might be distinctly traced in it: but a death-like stillness was sometimes broken by masses of ice falling from the opposite glaciers, which crashed, and reverberated around—like eruptions of a distant volcano.
“10. Before daylight this morning, we were on our oars; and by the time the sun was high enough for observing, were many miles westward of our resting-place. After sights, while the men were cooking, I obtained a few bearings, and prepared to return, not intending to go further westward. I saw water from that spot, more than twenty miles to the west (by compass); and then my view was limited by the channel turning towards the south. In those twenty miles, not the slightest appearance of an opening to the northward could be seen; mountain succeeded mountain, in unbroken succession. Three ridges, or ranges, could be traced, lying parallel to each other; and the nearest summits of those in the third, or furthest range, stretching from the northward and eastward of me, and continuing, as far as eye could reach, towards the north and west, were at least five leagues distant. Their height I supposed to be about four thousand feet: that of those nearest to me, about two thousand: and of those in the middle range, mentioned just now, about three thousand. At a distance, the channel appeared to trend to the southward of west, and there the sides of the mountains seemed to be very bare, and weather-beaten, while near nie they were covered with wood. This led me to conclude that farther westward they were open to the sea winds, and that there the channel ended. By the observations, I found that we were* nearly in the longitude of Christmas Sound, and in latitude 54° 54' S., being therefore twenty miles south of the end of Admiralty Sound, but considerably to the westward of it. This position, and the bearings and estimated distances, showed me that the other arm of this long channel opened near the spot where Mr. Murray laid down (near the head of Christmas Sound) a ‘channel, running to the eastward, beyond eyesight;’ and that the branch in which I was must lead towards the bay or sound to the N.W. of Christmas Sound, at the base of very high land, which Mr. Murray laid down as ‘an unbroken range of snow-covered mountains.' The time of high water in this channel exactly corresponded with that on the adjacent sea-coast, but did not nearly agree with that of the Strait of Magalhaens. These facts, and the appearance of the land, removed every doubt in my mind of the existence of an unbroken chain of mountains, reaching from the Barbara Channel to the Bell Mountain, and I therefore decided to spend no further time in searching thereabouts for a passage northward, but make all haste to examine the exterior shores.
“The channel here was about a mile wide, but the mountains on each side rising so abruptly, made it appear much narrower. It might be a good passage for a ship to sail through, from the westward, were it not for the trouble and anxiety of getting in with the land at the right place; and that a ship might sail on her course, in the open sea, by night as well as by day; but here she could hardly choose to run at night, because there are a few low islets, near mid-channel, in some parts. For a boat, in case of shipwreck, or other urgent reason, it might be convenient: but going through to the westward would be very difficult, because it would be necessary to ply to windward all day, and every day, making half-mile boards in defiance of squalls strong enough to capsize a vessel. A steam-vessel might answer in this region, as there is plenty of wood every where. Directly the noon observations were finished, and the instruments safely stowed, we began our return, and as a fresh breeze sprung up from the westward, we dashed along with a favouring tide at a great rate.
“11th. Next day we landed, for dinner and rest, near the Murray Narrow, and close to a wigwam, whose inmates ran away; but soon returned, on seeing us seated quietly by their fire. We bought fish from them for beads, buttons, &c., and gave a knife for a very fine dog, which they were extremely reluctant to part with; but the knife was too great a temptation to be resisted, though dogs seemed very scarce and proportionably valuable. Afterwards we continued our route, but were stopped when in sight of the Narrow by three canoes full of natives, anxious for barter. We gave them a few beads and buttons, for some fish; and, without any previous intention, I told one of the boys [Jemmy Button] in a canoe to come into our boat, and gave the man who was with him a large shining mother-of-pearl button. The boy got into my boat directly, and sat down. Seeing him and his friends seem quite contented, I pulled onwards, and, a light breeze springing up, made sail. Thinking that this accidental occurrence might prove useful to the natives, as well as to ourselves, I determined to take advantage of it. The canoe, from which the boy came, paddled towards the shore; but the others still paddled after us, holding up fish and skins to tempt us to trade with them. The breeze freshening in our favour, and a strong tide, soon carried us through the Narrow, and half an hour after dark we stopped in a cove, where we had passed the second night of this excursion. ‘Jemmy Button,’ as the boat's crew called him, on account of his price, seemed to be pleased at his change, and fancied he was going to kill guanaco, or wanakaye, as he called them—as they were to be found near that place.
“12th. We continued our course with a fresh and favouring breeze from the N.E.; passed Windhond Bay , and at sunset hauled the boat up, though a surf on the stony beach made it a difficult task. Several guanacoes were seen near the shore as we passed along.
“At daylight this morning (13th), we went in search of guanacoes; bat, seeing none, soon returned to the boat, and launched her. I lost my new dog in the bushes, yet we could not stop to recover him. During our walk this morning, I observed traces of a large land-animal, which I supposed to be a puma; and two of the men noticed a place, like a large nest, made in the trees by the natives, in which I have no doubt they watch for the guanacoes, to spear them as they pass underneath. We reached the Beagle in the evening, and found all well on board excepting one man, who, in carrying a guanaco,* shot by the cutter's crew, had slipped and broken his leg. Mr. Stokes, with whom he was, contrived to set it for him; but very properly made the best of his way to our ship with the man, whose leg was there found to be so well set, and bandaged up with splints, by those in the boat, that the surgeon had nothing to alter. Mr. Stokes went away again directly; and both he and Mr. Murray were absent at my return; but Lieut. Kempe, with the few men left on board, had done what was required, and gave a good account of the harbour, with respect to safety as well as shelter from wind. Ten canoes had come, at different times, to the ship; but the natives were extremely quiet and inoffensive, and sold our people a large quantity of fish. By success in shooting, Lieut. Kempe had been enabled to stop the issue of salt provisions for two days. Our Fuegians were in high spirits, and the meeting between them and Jemmy Button was droll enough: they laughed at him, called him Yapoo, and told us to put mox-e clothes on him directly.
“17th. Mr. Murray returned from his excursion to Cape Good Success, having done all that was expected, but not without incurring considerable danger on so exposed a coast. Had not his boat been a very fine one, his crew good, and he himself a most skilful manager, I do not think he could have gone so far along an unprotected shore, through ‘races’ of tide, and yet have returned in safety.”
The following are extracts from his Journal.
“‘Near Cape Graham we saw a large party of Indians, with several canoes, one of which, paddled by two men and a woman, came alongside of our boat, and they sold us some fine fish, for the large price of two metal buttons and a small string of beads. Finding no place at which I could land, on account of the rocks and heavy swell, we steered for the shore about fifteen miles to the northward. Approaching a flat-topped bluff, covered with grass, I saw a large guanaco, and just afterwards a whole herd feeding, for which he seemed to be doing the duty of a sentinel. The shore was inviting, and earthy soil seemed abundant; but too many rocks showed their sharp points at the water's edge to allow of our landing. At last we found a small patch of shingle between two reefs of rocks, and there we succeeded in beaching the boat, through a heavy surf. I ascended a steep woody height to obtain a view of the neighbourhood, and found that for some miles the country was level, and apparently covered by thick grass. Traces of, and paths made by, guanacoes, were very numerous in every direction. Next day we pulled to the eastward against a tumbling sea, caused by a weather tide, and at sunset tried to land; but were disappointed, by finding that the shore was so fronted every where by rocks, that we could not approach. We therefore hastened towards a long reef of outlying rocks, which might afford some shelter, as a breakwater, during the night, but found such overfalls near them, that we were again obliged to continue our route alongshore in the dark. At last I heard the noise of a large waterfall, between the breakings of high surf on the rocks, and fancied a cove could be made out, towards which we cautiously advanced, sounding with the lead and a long pole, and succeeded in obtaining a place of temporary security.
“‘In passing along the shore on the following day, many herds of guanacoes were seen feeding. At night we again had much embarrassment in obtaining a place for the boat. On the 7th there was too much sea and wind to admit of our proceeding, so I went to various points sviited for obtaining angles and bearings. One of these stations was a large rock, looking like a tower, which stood alone on a level plain.
“‘The weather being less unfavourable and the sea smoother on the 8th, we launched our boat and sailed to the eastward. In passing round Cape Kinnaird, great numbers of fur-seal were observed, so many indeed that they completely covered several of the large rocks.
“‘Spaniard Harbour proved to be a shallow bay, full of rocks, and dangerous reefs lining the shore, and mthout shelter, although there is anchorage for a vessel.
“‘In a large cave in a rock, which forms the south head of a little cove where our boat was secured, I found the recent traces of Indians, who had left bones of guanacoes and birds lying about near the ashes of a large fire. I went into the cave for a considerable distance, until it became too dark to find my way farther, but did not reach the end. Afterwards we sailed to the eastward again, under a treble reefed sail, and landed before dark in a corner between projecting rocks. Numbers of guanacoes were feeding around; but, after our shooting one of them, they made off. In every place at which we landed, traces of Indians had been found; yet hitherto we had seen only one party during this trip. The country near us, on the east side of Spaniard Harbour, or rather Bay, seemed level, though here and there were low hills, whose eastern sides were thickly covered with wood: some of the trees (beech) growing large and straight enough to make topmasts or lower yards for a small ship; though probably their qualities would be unsuitable.
“‘May 10th. During a heavy gale, I ascended the highest hill, near the sea, and noticed many rocks, on which the sea was breaking, that I had not seen before. On the 11th we passed through a very dangerous ‘tide-race’ off Bell Cape. There was little or no wind, but it was scarcely possible to uso our oars, so much was the water agitated: it was heaving and breaking in all directions, like water boiling in an immense caldron. When through, and again in safety, I was astonished at our fortunate escape. Looking back upon it, only a mass of breakers could be seen, which passed rapidly to the westward, and therefore led me to suppose that the ‘race’ was caused by a meeting of tides; not by a strong tide passing over a rocky ledge.
“‘ The land near Bell Cape is steep, high, and so rocky, that we could not find any place at which to land. We went into all the small coves, but they were so guarded by rocks as to be impracticable. Sailing eastward, I at last found a small cove, near Valentyn Bay, in which we hauled the boat ashore. A small stream ran into it, near which were many wigwams, but no natives could be seen.
“‘12th. We crossed Valentyn Bay, and landed near Cape Good Success. I walked to the summit, and thence obtained a good view of Staten Island, on the east; and all the coast westward, as far as New Island. In the north-east corner of Valentyn Bay, we found some Indians, living in one large wigwam, without any canoes. There were eight men, each of whom had a bow and a few arrows in his hand, and all, except one, were clothed in guanaco-skins hanging down to their heels, the woolly side being outwards. We obtained several bows from them, by barter, but they were reluctant to part with many arrows. One of the number wore a large seal-skin, that I purchased with a knife, which, to my surprise, he distinctly called ‘cuchillo.’ They had some fine dogs, one being much like a young lion; but nothing we could offer seemed, in their eyes, to be considered an equivalent for his value. Afterwards we examined Valentyn Bay, and found it unfit for vessels, being exposed to a heavy swell, and affording but bad anchorage.
“‘ On the 13th and 14th, a heavy gale confined us to our cove, into which such numbers of wild-fowl came, for shelter I suppose, that we shot as many as we wanted.
“‘On the 15th, 16th, and 17th, we were returning to the Beagle, not without meeting difficulties and risks similar to those already mentioned, but which it would be as tedious as unnecessary to relate.’”
Although King inserts no transitional note at this point, the next paragraph appears to be FitzRoy's description of Murray's return to the Beagle. It is assumed here that what follows is also the work of FitzRoy, as supported by King's comment just before the concluding paragraph in this chapter.
“Soon after the Master came alongside, Mr. Stokes also returned, having been a long way into the channel first discovered by Mr. Murray, and having examined all the shores about its eastern communication with the sea. He met many groups of Indians, but managed so as not to have any collision or trouble with them.
“18th. Digging in various places on Lennox Island, showed me that the soil is unlike that where the guanacoes were seen on Navarin island, which is fit for cultivation; this being very moist, and too full of tussac and other roots, to be serviceable in any agricultural point of view.
“19th. Natives had come alongside at various times, during the last few days, to sell fish for old buttons and other trifles. It was amusing to witness York and Boat taking in these people, by their bargains. The same men who, two months back, would themselves have sold a number of fish for a bit of glass, were seen going about the decks collecting broken crockeryware, or any trash, to exchange for the fish brought alongside by these ‘Yapoos,’ as they called them; not one word of whose language did they appear to comprehend. Lieut. Kempe returned from an unsuccessful excursion to Navarin island in search of guanacoes. He saw many, but could not get within shot. The footmarks of a puma were noticed by him in several places.
“23d. After obtaining a few sights of the sun, for the chronometer rates, we sailed from Lennox harbour, a very secure place for small vessels; but, as it is rather shallow, ships drawing more than fourteen feet of water should anchor outside the entrance, where they would be safe, and in smooth water, excepting when a south-east gale blows, with which wind they would not, in all probability, wish to remain at anchor. The soundings are regular in the offing, and there is anchoring ground every where in the vicinity. Wood and water may be obtained, in any quantity: wild fowl and fish are also to be had, but not in abundance. The easiest way of getting fish is to give bits of broken glass or buttons to the natives, who catch them in the kelp, by a baited line, without a hook, enticing the fish to the top of the water and then seizing them with the hand, or, if the fish has swallowed the bait, jerking it out of the water before it can disengage itself; as I mentioned before.
“At daylight (24th), being off Cape Good Success, we bore up, and ran towards the Strait of Le Maire, with a fresh gale at south, and thick snow squalls. The strait appeared clear of all obstacles, no rocks, nor even kelp being visible. The shore from Cape Success to the north head of Success Bay is high and bold, with water for a ship as near to it as she could desire, or ought to go. We hauled our wind during a severe snow squall, lest we should run beyond the harbour, and afterwards bearing up, ran into Good Success Bay, and anchored under the lee of its south head as a temporary berth. As soon as the ship was secure, I went to look for the best anchorage; and when it moderated, we weighed and shifted to a position where I supposed the ship secure when moored in smooth water, with sixty fathoms on our seaward anchor, and fifty on the other, the anchors lying respectively in eight and seven fathoms, over a clear, sandy bottom. The gale continued during the day, and towards night increased, drawing more to the eastward, and sending a swell into the bay. The wind was very cold, and the snow and hail froze fast, as they lodged upon any exposed part of the ship. Between eight and nine it blew heavily; afterwards it became much more moderate; and at midnight there was only a fresh wind from E.S.E. A long swell then began to set into the bay from the same quarter; but the ship rode so easily, and the night seemed to be improving so fast, with the glass rising steadily, that I went to bed without an anxious thought respecting her safety: however, I was hardly asleep when I was told that the small bower, our seaward cable, had parted. I ran instantly upon deck, when finding the night fine, and no increase of swell, I thought at first it was a mistake; but was quickly set right by the ship turning her broadside to the swell, and dropping down upon her lee anchor. The critical nature of our situation at once struck me: it was evident, that the frost had rendered our chains, so often tried, a doubtful security against the jerk of rollers which occasionally set into the bay—one or two, perhaps, in half an hour—though the swell was at other times trifling. We veered a whole cable on the in-shore anchor (a small one, got at San Carlos), cleared away and let go the sheet-anchor, shackled the remainder of the small bower chain to the best bower, and rode with two-thirds of a cable on the sheet, and a cable and a half on the bower, close to the beach, though in six fathoms water, keeping the cables constantly streaming wet at the hawse-holes, with sea-water, to prevent their freezing: the temperature of the water being 44°, though the snow and hail lay frozen on the weather-side of the masts. The link that broke, of the chain, was in the hawse exposed to a current of cold air through the hawse-hole. It certainly appeared defective, when examined next day; but as it had withstood many a heavy strain, I attribute its parting to the action of the frost, and would caution seamen to be on their guard when using chain cables in similar weather. The wind moderated, and the swell decreased towards morning; so we became again at ease with respect to the safety of the ship, after a few hours of anxious suspense, for we had no hemp cables, and were close to the surf of the shore.
“25th. The wind drawing southward brought the vessel's broadside to the swell, and prevented our getting the boats out for some time, as she rolled heavily, and I would not risk their being injvured without absolute necessity. In the evening we crept for the end of the chain, weighed, and bent a stout hawser to it; and next day hove up the sheet anchor, and moored afresh, at a greater distance from the land.
“27th and 28th. Blowing a furious gale of wind.
“May 29th. The first tolerable day in this place was employed by the officers in taking bearings and soundings in the bay; and by the ship's company in wooding and watering. Some wigwams and the traces of guanacoes' hoofs were seen, but the land is high, and being thickly wooded shut us out from the best guanaco country. I was not sure which was the height Mr. Banks ascended;§ but the broad road mentioned by Cook is still a good mark for the bay, if the inbend of the land does not show it sufficiently. The weather here was colder than we had yet found it, the wind being so much in the south quarter; there were very sharp frosts at night, and snow lay deep, even close to the sea water-mark.
“May 30th. I was in hopes of finding a harbour between Cape San Diego and Cape San Vicente, or a little farther along the coast, where we might be able to fix the position of Cape San Diego and the adjacent land; for I did not like sending a boat along this coast, the tides being so very strong, and the shore so rocky, without any inlets, where she could be secured at night. (During Mr. Murray's last trip, he was extremely fortunate in having a fine interval; as the coast he passed would have been impracticable for a boat in blowing weather. Had these last strong southerly gales begun before he came back, his situation would have been extremely critical.) We therefore stood into the strait, the wind being variable and light with us, though blowing strongly over the tops of the hills, and striking the water nearest them in strong squalls. At half a mile from the land there was little wind; but from that distance to the shore was torn up by williwaws. This strange appearance must have been caused by the cold air rushing from the snow-covered hills and displacing the warmer air near the surface of the water.
“With the ebb tide and what flaws of wind we could catch we stood to the southward, to get some angles and bearings, and see more of the shore between Cape Good Success and the bay. In the afternoon we had a steady wind from N.N.W.; and having done what was necessary, to the southward, returned, and anchored after dark near the middle of the bay.
“May 31st. At daylight this morning, we weighed and made sail with a fresh northerly breeze. I trusted to the weather improving, as the glasses were rising; but, indeed, our time was becoming too short to allow of a choice of days. We worked to the northward with the flood-tide, taking the required angles and bearings, and at noon were close to Cape San Diego, where the flood-tide opposed the north wind very strongly, and in addition to a heavy swell from the northward, made such an irregular high sea, as nearly caused the loss of our new boat, and would have damaged many a vessel. The weather became worse; and as the swell continued high from the northward, I was obliged to stand to sea, and carry a press of sail to keep off the land, which by that time was too much obscured by haze and clouds to admit of our running back.
“June 1st. Bad weather, with rain nearly all day. At about twelve miles to the northward of Cape San Vicente, by estimation, we stood off and on until in the latter part of the day we got a breeze from south, to which sail was made to close the land about Cape San Vicente.
“At noon, on the 2d, we were well in-shore, and stood along the land, looking for a harbour. Seeing a promising place, we anchored off it, in twenty-two fathoms water; and, as the night proved to be fine, remained quiet in smooth water, with the wind off the land, and a regular tide setting past the ship.
“At daylight next morning, I went to look at the opening, which, from the masthead, seemed like a spacious harbour; but I found it to be so shallow an inlet, that at its entrance, just within the heads, there was no more than one fathom of water. Nevertheless this cove must be the place which the Spaniards dignified with the name of Port San Policarpo.
“We weighed and sailed along-shore, but the wind being scant, and the tide against us, it was late before we could get into San Vicente Bay, where we anchored in a line between that cape and Cape San Diego, but nearest to the former. In a cove at the head of this bay, Mr. Banks landed when Cook was here. During the night we were tossed about by a very heavy swell, opposing a strong tide; the wind being moderate, not enough to steady the vessel.
“Finding this morning (June 4th), that the swell was too high to allow a boat to be lowered in safety, I gave up my intention of examining the cove, and hastened back to the Bay of Good Success, to complete wood and water, and obtain rates for the chronometers, previously to leaving the coast. Wind and tide favoured us, and at noon we were moored in Good Success Bay. Soon afterwards I left the Beagle, in my boat, with a week's provisions, intending to try to land near Cape San Diego, and thence walk to the cape with the instruments; but I found a cross swell in the strait, and a rocky shore without a place in which the boat could land: though I risked knocking her to pieces by trying to land in the only corner where there seemed to be any chance. After this escape I tried farther on, without success; by which time it became dark, and if I had not returned immediately, while the ebb-tide made, the flood would have begun and obliged me to lie at a grapnel, during a frosty night, in a strong tide-way, with the boat's crew wet through: I turned back, therefore, and pulled towards Success Bay, assisted by the tide, but the cockling sea it made half filled the boat more than once, and we were thankful when again safely on board the Beagle.
“Having failed in this scheme for settling the latitude of Cape San Diego, I thought of effecting it by bringing the Beagle to an anchor in the strait, two or three miles to the eastward of Good Success Bay, and thence connecting the Cape to known points by triangulation; the heads of this bay and Cape Good Success, quite correctly placed, serving as the foundation.
“June 5th. I obtained some sights of the sun this morning and observations at noon, besides bearings and angles to verify former ones. All hands were busy wooding and watering, preparatory to returning to Monte Video. A large albatross was shot by my coxswain, which measured nearly fourteen feet across the wings.
“6th. The snow which covered the ground when we were first here was quite gone, and the weather was comparatively mild. The frost at night was not more than in a common winter's night in England, the thermometer ranging from 27° to 32°. The tide was carefully noticed this day, being full moon. It was high water at a quarter past four, and the tide rose seven feet.
“7th. We unmoored, weighed, stood to the eastward and anchored with the stream anchor, and a large hawser, in fifty fathoms water, about three miles from Success Bay. After taking the required angles and bearings we weighed at eleven, and stood towards Cape San Diego with the first of the flood. The tide being strong, we made rapid progress, and were soon out of the strait; but wishing to see as much of the N.E. coast as possible, in our progress northward, we hauled to the wind and kept near the land during the night, as the weather was fine and settled.
“Before leaving Good Success Bay and the Strait of Le Maire, I felt satisfied that we had acquainted ourselves with the tides, which are as regular and as little to be dreaded as in any part of the world where they run with strength. They will materially assist any vessel in her passage through the strait; which is very wide, perfectly free from obstacles of any kind, and has Good Success Bay close at hand, in case wind or tide should fail. When the tide opposes the wind and swell, there is always a heavy, and, for small vessels, dangerous ‘race’ off Cape San Diego, where the water is more shoal than elsewhere (k), we found it so at a neap flood-tide, but let it be remembered that on another day, at the top of the springs, being the day after full moon, we passed the same spot, at half flood, with the water perfectly smooth, and although strong eddies were seen in every direction, the vessel's steerage was but little affected by them. It is high water in Success Bay soon after four in the afternoon, on the full and change days, and low water exactly at ten in the morning. The flood tide-stream begins to make to the northward about an hour after low water, and the ebb, to the southward, about the same time after high water. The tides rise from six to eight feet, perpendicularly. At Cape Pillar the turn of tide, with high water, is at noon: but along the S.W. and S.E. coast the time gradually increases to this coast. From Cape San Diego the flood tide sets north and west along the shore, from one knot to three knots each hour, as far as twenty miles along shore; and the ebb in a contrary direction, but not so strongly, except in San Vicente Bay. The flood in the Strait of Le Maire runs about two knots in mid channel, more or less according to the wind, and the ebb about one knot an hour. Perhaps, at times, when a strong spring tide is retarded in its progress by a northerly wind, there will be a dangerous overfall off Cape San Diego, like the bores in some parts of the world.
“The soundings are tolerably regular, and may give notice of an approach to Staten Land, or to the N.E. coast, and may guide a ship to the fairway of the strait; but I should not place much confidence in them, near such a rocky coast as that of Staten Land.
“Good Success Bay is an excellent anchorage for vessels of any size to stop in for wood or water; but it would not answer if a vessel required to lie steady for repair, as a swell frequently rolls in. It is quite safe, yet, in the winter season, when easterly gales are common, no vessel should anchor so near the head of the bay as she might in summer; for heavy rollers at times (though rarely) set in. Fish we did not try to get, not having spare time, and only a few birds were shot.
“On the 8th, a very fine day with but little wind, we were off the flat-topped hill, called the Table of Orozco; and, from the mast-head, I had an extensive view of the adjacent country. About Success Bay and Bell Mount the land is high, but north of Success Bay it slopes away towards Cape San Diego, which is a long, low, projecting point. Thence, as far as I could see, the N.E. coast extended, low, excepting a few hills here and there, and unbroken by inlets; the country near it being a pleasant looking hill and dale land, well wooded and quite free from snow. I could distinguish a snow-covered chain of mountains which must have lain near Admiralty Sound, the country on this side of them appearing to be a continued succession of hill and valley, with only a few of the hills capped with snow, although this was the depth of winter.
Smoke was seen at but one place, about two miles inland. In the evening we got a breeze off shore, and stood along the coast, the moon shining brightly and the weather being fine. I kept rather close to the land, during the night, in order to be near the entrance of the supposed St. Sebastian Channel in the morning.
“At midnight Cape Santa Inez was distant from us three or four miles, but thence we saw very little of the land, till three, near Cape Peñas, after which the weather became thick, and the wind drew round to the N.E., which made me keep more off shore until daylight (9th), when we bore up and stood for the land. Having found Cape Santa Inez and Cape Peñas correctly laid down on the chart we used, I thought Cape St. Sebastian would not be far wrong, and we had taken several observations during the early part of the night to correct our reckoning. Standing towards the shore, we quickly shoaled our water, and found a ground swell increasing. Having made what I supposed to be Cape Sebastian, and seeing from the mast-head a large opening to the northward of it similar to that laid down in the chart, with low distant land yet farther northward corresponding to the shores of ‘Bahia de Nombre de Jesus,’ I stood on confidently, thinking how well the chart of this coast had been laid down, and regardless of the soundings decreasing as we went on. Seeing, however, from the mast-head, what seemed to be a tide-ripple, two or three miles distant, I called the boatswain, who had been much among the tide-races on this coast, to ask his opinion of it: but before he could get up aloft to me, I saw that it was very low land, almost level with the sea, and what I thought the ripple, was the surf on the beach. Standing on a little farther we had but seven fathoms water over a bottom of dark muddy sand, with bits of black slate. At this time, the weather had cleared enough to see the land fifteen or twenty miles on each side, but nothing like an opening appearing, on the contrary, a plain extending to the westward, as horizontal as the sea, I hauled to the wind and stood alongshore to the S.E., to look for an inlet, fancying I had overshot the proper place; especially as the land continued flat, and unbroken, for many miles to the N.W., while to the S.E. it seemed hilly and irregular.
“Having ranged along shore several miles, yet still seeing from the mast-head a continuation of the same kind of coastline, as far as an eye could trace the surf on the beach, without any opening, we wore ship and stood to the northward, satisfied that the St. Sebastian channel did not exist within many miles of the position laid down in the chart.
“In the afternoon the weather became very thick, with rain, a fresh wind blowing right on shore, and the glasses falling; so we carried sail to get off the land and out of the shoal water, in which there was a heavy ground swell. At midnight we had obtained a good offing.
“On the 10th, a fresh breeze from the N.E., a low glass, and thick weather, with constant rain, would have prevented my nearing the land again if I had been disposed to do so. Though reluctant to leave any part of the coast of Tierra del Fuego unexplored, while I had so effective a vessel, and all with me in good health, I was bound to remember our distance from the appointed rendezvous; the state of our provisions, of which we had only three weeks left on board; and that I was ordered to be at Rio de Janeiro on the 20th of this month. I therefore decided to hasten to Port Desire, for the sake of the chronometer measurements; and from thence proceed to Monte Video and Rio de Janeiro. I had previously made up my mind to carry the Fuegians, whom we had with us, to England; trusting that the ultimate benefits arising from their acquaintance with our habits and language, would make up for the temporary separation from their own country. But this decision was not contemplated when I first took them on board; I then only thought of detaining them while we were on their coasts; yet afterwards finding that they were happy and in good health, I began to think of the various advantages which might result to them and their countrymen, as well as to us, by taking them to England, educating them there as far as might be practicable, and then bringing them back to Tierra del Fuego. These ideas were confirmed by finding that the tribes of Fuegians, eastward of Christmas Sound, were hostile to York Minster's tribe, and that therefore we could not, in common humanity, land them in Nassau Bay or near the Strait of Le Maire. Neither could I put the boy ashore again, when once to the eastward of Nassau Bay, without risking his life; hence I had only the alternative of beating to the westward, to land them in their own districts, which circumstances rendered impracticable, or that of taking them to England. In adopting the latter course I incurred a deep responsibility, but was fully aware of what I was undertaking.
“The Fuegians were much slower in learning English than I expected from their quickness in mimickry, but they understood clearly when we left the coast that they would return to their country at a future time, with iron, tools, clothes, and knowledge which they might spread among their countrymen. They helped the crew whenever required; were extremely tractable and good-humoured, even taking pains to walk properly, and get over the crouching posture of their countrymen.
“When we were at anchor in Good Success Bay, they went ashore with me more than once, and occasionally took an oar in the boat, without appearing to harbour a thought of escape.
“During the night of the 13th, we were near the land about Sea Bear Bay; the wind, however, drew to the northward, and with a strong current setting to the S.E., drove us off again.
“The 14th was foggy; clouds preventing any observations, but at three in the afternoon we made the land, a little north of Port Desire, near what is called in the chart ‘Rivers Peak.’ The wind having hauled to the southward, and the current setting northward, prevented our approaching nearer to the port on that day.
“At daylight on the 15th, we were again off Rivers Peak, notwithstanding our having carried a press of sail in order to make southing during the night. We were set twenty miles to the northward during that time; but a slant of wind and the turn of tide in our favour carried us towards the entrance of the harbour, into which we worked, the tide of ebb having just ended; and we moored abreast of the ruins. My first care was to look for traces of the Adventure or Adelaide, but I found none. A bottle which I had deposited for the Adelaide, at our last visit, by Captain King's direction, was exactly where I then left it, and the papers it contained were untouched. While in this port I got good observations, the weather being clear, though very cold. No guanacoes were shot although many were seen, but numbers of sea-birds were brought on board.* A quince was given to me which was found in a place where the Spanish colony had made a garden. We remarked that the tracks of the guanacoes on shore here were not so large, by one-half, as those we had so lately seen in Tierra del Fuego. Having noticed the currents particularly, in order to compare them with what I observed formerly and with the tide in the port; I can now say, decidedly, that the flood tide comes from the southward, and that the ebb sets to the south-east. North of Port Desire, or from Port Desire to Cape Blanco, the flood is much the strongest, but off Penguin Island the ebb is, I think, the strongest, setting two or three knots an hour. It is high-water and slack-water, in Port Desire, at half-past twelve, on the days of full and change. The tides, if not attended to, would baffle a ship much in making this port.
“On the 21st we sailed, with a fresh breeze from the S.W.; and at nine a.m. on the 25th when about one mile southward of the alleged position of the Ariel rocks, and near the nominal longitude, I hauled to the wind and ran some distance on their parallel, looking out for broken water. There was a very irregular and heavy swell, as much as would be raised by a gale of wind, but caused apparently by a current; and while waiting for the meridian altitude, before bearing up, having run twenty miles on the same parallel, a heavy swell rose on the quarter which struck our weather quarter boat, and turned her in upon the deck, breaking both iron davits. One of the davits of the lee-boat was also unshipped by the jerk, and the after-part of the vessel well drenched with water. We secured both boats again, but the one to windward was badly stove. For a moment, I thought we had indeed found the rocks, and the huge black back of a dead whale which just then shewed itself very near the vessel, much increased the sensation. I imagined that we were in a meeting of tides or currents; where old trees, dead whales, &c. are often found, and have frequently caused reports of rocks; for the water was not more shallow than we had found it during the day, the soundings having varied from forty to fifty fathoms; so having obtained the meridional altitude we bore up, and steered our course again.
“On the 26th we entered the Plata, and at one a.m. on the 27th, Lobos Island was seen, and soon afterwards the high land about Pan de Azucar. We continued working to the westward, and at daylight were off Whale Point, but the wind fell light, and the current being against us, we lost during the day what had been gained in the night. At seven p.m. the current set so strongly out of the river that we were obliged to drop a kedge with a stout hawser, and ride by it, though keeping all sail set and going between four and five knots through the water. When the hawser bore a strain, the log was hove, and the current found to be setting more than five knots. This was off Maldonado; Lobos bearing N.N.E., distant four miles. Soon after nine the stream slacked, we tripped the kedge and worked up the river, the wind being still westerly, but the current having turned in our favour. The U. S. frigate Hudson passed, steering to the eastward:—she was the first sail we had seen since leaving San Carlos de Chilóe. At daylight next morning (28th), we were in sight of Flores Lighthouse, which was reported to be a vessel under sail. Soon after which another vessel was reported as being under all studding sails; this was the Mount itself: so curiously were objects distorted by the haze. Soon after noon we anchored off Monte Video, and from Captain Talbot, of H.M.S. Algerine, I heard of the arrival there, and subsequent departure of the Adventure and the Adelaide.
On the 9th of July we sailed from Monte Video,—on the 18th made the high land over the island of Santa Catalina, and after dark anchored in the bay. My object in calling there was to continue the chronometric chain, between Tierra del Fuego and Rio de Janeiro, by as short intervals as possible: and the results so obtained proved to be very satisfactory.
“While in Monte Video I tried to have the Fuegians vaccinated, but the virus did not take any effect on them. Little Fuegia was living several days with an English family, who were extremely kind to her; and the others were on shore at different times with me. No one noticed them; being so very like the Indians of the neighbourhood.
“The apparent astonishment and curiosity excited by what they saw, extraordinary to them as the whole scene must have been, were much less than I had anticipated; yet their conduct was interesting, and each day they became more communicative. It was here that I first learned from them that they made a practice of eating their enemies taken in war. The women, they explained to me, eat the arms; and the men the legs; the trunk and head were always thrown into the sea.
“On the 23d we sailed from Santa Catharina; and on the 2d of August anchored in the harbour of Rio de Janeiro.”
Here the extracts from Captain Fitz Roy's Journal end.
The Adventure and the Beagle sailed together from Rio de Janeiro on the 6th of August, having left the Adelaide as a tender to the flag-ship, but reimbarked her officers and crew; and, after a most tedious passage, anchored in Plymouth Sound on the 14th of October [1830]. Both vessels were soon afterwards paid off; the Beagle at Plymouth, and the Adventure at Woolwich.