Chapter IV: Arrival at Our Landing-Place

_Nov. 14._ On awaking this morning we found the Mary Jane quietly anchored in Gregory’s Bay, some seventy miles from the entrance of the Strait.

Thus our voyage of just ninety days is ended, and the land for which we sailed is before us. We look out upon a beach of white sand, upon sand-cliffs, sand-dunes, the grassy pampas and distant snow-crowned hills; but neither man nor beast nor human habitation is visible: all is drear solitude.

Captain Clift, with true kindness, offered to remain for a day or two to assist us in finding Indians, and to give us a home on board his vessel until we could get quarters among the savages.

Accordingly we landed early in the morning upon a beautiful beach, and, mounting a steep bank some fifty feet high, we found dry grass and a small clump of thorny bushes resembling the barberry, with a yellow blossom. With these we made a smoke as a signal to raise the savages. Not succeeding, we returned before noon to the vessel, and at 1 +P.M.+ we landed again with the Captain, determined to travel back into the country till we should find some human beings. Taking one of the Indian trails, of which we saw many, we pursued our way over hills and vales, often coming upon places where the savages had encamped, and which were thickly strewn with the bones of animals consumed by them--bones chiefly of the guanaco, a variety of the lama.

In one instance we saw two huge vertebræ of a whale’s spine, far inland. The tracks of horses, dogs, and guanacos were visible everywhere.

One of the latter animals we descried feeding alone in a meadow, but on seeing us he went like an antelope over the ground, and was soon out of sight. We saw several large fowls, among which was the thievish rook, the curlew, and the upland goose. Several small birds also flitted around us, cheering us with their sweet warbling.

The hills over which we passed were of a dark sandy soil, very light, free from stones, and covered with grass. The meadows were a rich alluvium covered with very thick grass, which grows in spontaneous profusion.

As the old tore (dry grass) still remained in abundance, we found it easy to raise a great smoke to arouse the savages. But on and on we went with rapid speed, as we were all very anxious to find Indians before night: the Captain because he wished to sail as soon as possible, and we because we felt the importance of meeting the natives before the Mary Jane should leave. We entered a little ravine, at the head of which we found a rill of pure water, where we slaked our great thirst. Soon after we found a larger stream running through a grassy meadow.

How far we travelled we know not, but our march was rapid because we were all urged on by our earnest desires to find inhabitants that day. Probably we walked from seven to ten miles towards the high lands north of us. But the descending sun and our weary limbs called for retreat; so back we sped to the beach, where we arrived at nightfall, hungry, thirsty, weary, and disappointed.

_Nov. 15._ Early this morning, Captain Clift in company with Mr. Arms set out again in search of Indians, while I remained on board to attend to some business preparatory to leaving the vessel.

After noon we descried one savage on the beach, and shortly after he was joined by three more, all mounted on horseback and attended by more than twenty dogs. In a little time Mr. Arms and the Captain appeared on the bank above the beach, when a boat was sent from the schooner to bring them on board. Three of the savages came off with them, one of whom is a son of an aged chief whom they call _el capata le grande_, the grand captain. The young man is of more than middling size, firmly built, of an open countenance, and, for a savage, of modest and pleasant manners. He can speak a few words in English and more in Spanish. By signs and a little Spanish we signified to him that we wished him to furnish us with two horses and be our guide to the Indian camp among the northern hills, where we could spend the night, and return with him to the shore in the morning.

This we were very anxious to do, that we might learn what we could about Patagonian life before the Mary Jane leaves us. The young chief seemed to understand and to consent to our desires. So we took him on shore, where he selected two horses for us, and, mounting his own, we set off on full gallop, leaving three Indians and one horse on the shore. After riding rapidly for four or five miles, our guide dismounted, drew out two pebbles from his skin pouch, struck fire and kindled the dry grass around us. This soon made a dense smoke, which was the signal for the other savages of his clan to come down.

He then waited a while, looking earnestly to the hills, but we as earnestly beckoned him to remount his horse and ride on. He obeyed, and we rushed over another plain, when he dismounted again, made another great smoke, and waited again for the Indians.

We pressed him once more to go on, as night was approaching and we feared we should not reach the lodge that day. So on we galloped, but shortly we descried dark forms coming down the side of the mountain from a pass among the hills, one or two miles distant. Then another and another squad followed, while we rode on to meet them. The first detachment came up like a whirlwind, their long, coarse black hair streaming and their rough skin mantles flapping in the wind, while all were shouting in savage glee. The ground shook under the rush of their horses, and the atmosphere was clouded with dust. They surrounded us; they yelled and grinned; they were as noisy as a flock of loons, and as active as a swarm of bees. They talked with our guide; they tried to talk with us; they examined and counted our garments; they opened our vests, felt in our pockets, pulled up our trousers and thrust their hands into our boots. This was rough courtesy and a savage reception.

Probably all this examination was to ascertain whether we had arms or tobacco. The former would have excited suspicion; the latter aroused their cupidity.

They were large, strong, and bold men, quite independent in their bearing, and perfectly conscious that they were “masters of the situation.” They were dark and filthy, ignorant and brutal in the last degree; and yet each man was a king in his own estimation, and their country was the greatest, the richest, and the best in the world. It had never been conquered, and these proud men were lords who knew no masters.

They laughed, showing splendid rows of white teeth, and in five minutes the interview ended. Every man put spurs to his horse, and, with yells and an uproarious shout, the whole band, of about twenty, rushed toward the Strait, leaving a long cloud of dust behind them.

Our guide wished to turn back and go with them to the shore, but we still urged him to proceed to the camp. This he did reluctantly, often lingering, dismounting, and showing a desire to return. We met a few more straggling companies of savages, and when the last came up it was impossible to press him forward any longer. We judged ourselves to be ten or twelve miles from the sea, with no signs of an Indian camp in sight. So when our guide turned his horse’s head toward the shore, we had no alternative, and we wheeled also. This was near sundown. We gave our coursers the rein and followed our savage friends without stopping to think, to wink, or to breathe.

At 10 +P.M.+ we were back on the beach, where we found the companies we had met encamped in the open air for the night. We hailed our vessel, but had no response. She was anchored more than half a mile from the shore; her lights were extinguished, her crew asleep, and we were to spend our first night on shore with these wild people without shelter or supper. About forty savages were scattered around, some sleeping and snoring, some talking in unknown gutturals, some grunting, and some hunting small game in the hair of their dogs, of which about a hundred were present, while the horses were tethered around with raw-hide thongs. A small clump of thorn-bushes near the beach had supplied the savages with a few fagots with which they had kindled a flickering fire, which furnished just light enough to render the darkness and the dark visages visible. Around these smoking fagots sat a number of Indians trying to warm in the smoke and ashes a few small pieces of dirty guanaco meat, of which they gave Mr. Arms and myself each a morsel about the size of one’s finger. This was our supper. But we were weary and hungry, and so without scruple, “asking no questions,” we ate our morsels with thankfulness. This was a foretaste of Patagonian life. The Indians also gave us a little water from a skin bottle, or bag such as the old patriarchs used, and this was a kind of prelibation of the blessings in store for us in this wild land.

After our repast and our thanksgiving, our guide spread a skin for us to sleep on, and when we lay down he tried to cover us with a small, thin, and not very clean blanket. It was kind in him, and we appreciated the service; for it was a cold night and the dew was heavy, so that we awoke in the morning wet and chilled. But we slept peacefully and without fear, and awoke thankful for the protecting care of Israel’s Shepherd.

_Nov. 16._ The morning is bright and cool. The sun of our northern home shines upon us, but all our surroundings are strange and weird. The Captain sent his boat early, and we went on board, taking with us the old chief before mentioned, his son our guide and one other Indian. All these seemed to be prominent men of the tribe and our object in taking them on board was to make arrangements with them for living and travelling with them in Patagonia until our mission to their country should be accomplished.

Through seamen who have visited the Strait and seen numbers of this tribe of savages, we learn that a chief whom the sailors called Maria and dubbed the Queen was somewhere in this region. Supposing that this woman was invested with high authority, and wishing to have an early interview with her, we inquired of our old chief and his son where she was. They signified that she was gone far north to her winter quarters, but that she would return in about “one moon” to her southern rambles. We then made them understand that we wished to leave our vessel to live with them for a season. The three Indians consulted together for about ten minutes, when the aged sire signified their assent to our proposal, promising by signs to put food into our mouths, to give us horses to ride, to carry our luggage, and to take good care of our persons.

They wished to know how many moons we would live with them, and whether our vessel would return for us, to all of which we replied indefinitely, as all was uncertain to us.

All this took place in the cabin, the Captain and officers being present as witnesses. The chief then, by earnest gestures, inquired for our baggage, and, as it was pointed out article by article, he and his men laid hold of it, the sailors coming to their help, and in a few minutes it was all in the boat. We followed, bidding a final farewell to the Mary Jane, which had been our home for three months.

Captain Clift went on shore with us to assist in erecting our tent and to bid us a final adieu, intending to sail at evening on his voyage westward. He has taken a lively interest in all that concerns our welfare on this expedition. Our tent, which was made in New York, of light canvas, was pitched to-day for the first time. It spreads about eight feet in length and six in breadth. In this we have gathered our little all for our sojourn in Patagonia, consisting of our personal apparel, a few sheets and blankets, a small chest of medicines, a few books with stationery, two saddles with bridles and spurs, a few pounds of sea-biscuit and pork, and a little bag of salt, together with a variety of articles such as axes, hatchets, files, fishing-tackle, saws, gimlets, augurs, hammers, handkerchiefs, garments, and several pieces of cotton and woollen goods, to the amount of a few hundred dollars, for presents to the savages, or to purchase food or other useful articles from them. Thus furnished, we commenced housekeeping in Patagonia on the 16th of November, 1833.

In the afternoon of this day the sealing schooner Plutarch, Captain Miner, of Mystic, Conn., came into the bay and anchored near the Mary Jane, and Captain Miner visited us in our tent on shore. At nightfall the masters, officers, and crews of the two schooners bade us a kind adieu and went on board, intending to sail that evening.

_Sunday, Nov. 17._ On awaking this morning we found the Mary Jane and the Plutarch still at anchor in the harbor. A strong head-wind and a heavy current running east had prevented the vessels from leaving their anchorage. The boats of these vessels did not leave the davits all day on account of the roaring wind and the rough sea. We remained in our little tabernacle during the day; it was crowded from morning till night with the savages, all curious to examine our luggage, and even the garments on our persons. They labored hard to talk with us, and we with them; but we all found it impossible to make ourselves understood except to a very small degree.

The miserable creatures are nearly destitute of food, as this is the third day on the shore, and as they rarely find game within five to ten miles of here.

We ate sparingly of the little stores we took from the vessel, and the savages--men, women, and children--watch us like hungry dogs, and beg of us with pitiful importunity.

A few very small mussels are found along the shore, and these are the only shell-fish we have seen. Of these they gathered a scanty pittance, but not enough to satisfy hunger.

The Indians have one skin tent on the shore, and a part of them occupy this, and the rest sit and lie and sleep around upon the grass. Their time is spent in eating, when they find anything to eat, sleeping, laughing, talking, singing, card-playing, etc. Their clothing, as has been said, is of skins of the guanaco, dressed and made into mantles in the form of a blanket with the fur on. When these are old and filthy they harbor innumerable small vermin. To-day we saw one of these mantles spread out, with some six savages gathered around it. One with a club beat the fur side of the mantle, while the others watched the game as it was thrown out of the fur, seized and devoured it with greedy relish.

This is our first Sunday on heathen ground, and it is truly affecting to be surrounded by these debased and benighted beings, for whom we have so often prayed, without being able to tell them of a Saviour’s love, or the motives which brought us to their dark abodes.

_Nov. 18._ Like yesterday and last night, this day has been boisterous on land and sea. The strong head-wind has kept the vessels at their anchors; the rain has been abundant, with chilling cold, and the clouds have been so dense and dark that, for most of the time, we have been unable to see the schooners at their anchorage. No boats have come to the shore since the 16th, and we have hardly once moved out of our quivering tent. But notwithstanding the storm, hunger has driven some of the savages to mount their horses and hunt for game. The young chief came to our tent and said in English, “Guanaco most done,” and signifying that they must brave the storm and hunt. Soon a small party were mounted on horses, and armed with the _bolas_, an instrument made of strips of raw-hide about six feet long, with three strands, each armed at the end with a smooth round pebble about the size of a hen’s egg, enclosed in skin. This weapon, thrown among the animals from a horse at full speed, entangles the game so that the hunter, leaping from his horse, dispatches it with his _cuchillo_, or hunting-knife.

The hunters were gone a long time, and returned at evening, weary, hungry, with dark and downcast faces, having taken nothing but one skunk.

The whole dependence of these natives for food is on their wild animals, chiefly the guanaco, which is very cautious and as fleet as the deer. We pitied the poor fellows in their hunger and disappointment, but we had no power to help them from our slender stores, the whole of which would not have sufficed to give one tenth of them a meal.

As for fishing, though encamped on the sea-shore, they have no fishing-tackle, nor do they seem to know anything of the art.

But hungry and thirsty, wet and cold, without tent or fuel, they will remain on the shore as long as a vessel is at anchor. They are eager for tobacco and other stimulants, for guns and ammunition, for bread, pork, and all edibles; but tobacco and intoxicants are the first articles for which they call, and their desire for these is fearful. The articles they exchange for what they obtain from ships are fresh meat of the guanaco, furs, skin mantles, and a few other things.

The chief signified to us that they must return _mañana_, i.e. to-morrow, to their lodge in the mountains.

At 4 +P.M.+ the storm abated and the sea was more quiet. Soon we saw the boats of the Mary Jane and the Plutarch lowered and heading for the shore. The masters, Clift and Miner, with officers and sailors, came to greet us once more and to bid us another farewell. Captain Miner brought us a basket of boiled penguins’ eggs, which he had gathered at the Falkland Islands. These were very acceptable, and in our condition delicious.

At sunset the boats with our much-esteemed friends returned to the vessels. At dark the savages, like fowls, retired to their lodgings; the horses ceased neighing, the dogs ceased howling, the children ceased their noisy gambols, the adults ceased their hoarse talking, the wind was lulled, the sea hushed its roar; the great vault of heaven shone out adorned with glowing constellations and sprinkled with blazing sapphires. All was calm and quiet, and after offering up our vesper thanks and petitions to Him who made and who moves the mighty wheels of the universe, we fell into a sound sleep.

_Nov. 19._ On awaking this morning every vision of home and country, every mark of civilization, had fled. The little vessels, like sea-birds, had spread their white pinions to the breeze and sped to the west. The bark which had borne us so safely for many thousand miles, and upon which we had been so generously fed for ninety-four days, had passed away like a dream of the night. Around us were savage horses neighing, one or two hundred savage dogs barking, and forty or fifty savage men, women, and children spread out upon the ground, some fast asleep, some snoring, some grunting, some just opening and rubbing their eyes, some jabbering, some sitting up and hunting small game in the upper loft, some smoking the nauseating pipe, some moving slowly about without apparent motive, some looking at their horses, some turning on their earthy beds “like a door on its hinges,” half waking and falling asleep again. But no one was washing hands and face, no one bathing in pure water, no one reading, no one praying, no one laying a clean breakfast-table, no one cooking a morning repast, and no one eating, drinking, or even giving signs of having anything to eat! This is poverty, hunger, nakedness, filth; this is squalid misery; this is darkness and deep degradation; this is heathenism and savagism of the lowest type; this is man with the image of God erased from mind and heart--man sunk below the brute he feeds on--heaven-created man in ruins--man unconscious of his origin, utterly ignorant of what he is, of what he might be, and of all that awaits him!

Such are our surroundings, and such were some of our meditations. And how could we sound the depth or measure the length and breadth of the degradation? How, without an interpreter or any medium of communication with these deaf and dumb and blind spirits, were we to reach them?

But we are here, we thought, and these are the facts. The last material link which connected us with the civilized and Christian world is sundered. We are left among these savages without arrangement or pledge for return to our country. We are thrown upon their hospitality for our food, and upon their wills for our protection and our lives. But we do not regret it. We came voluntarily, knowing the facts, and we have no fears. “One who is faithful and true” has said, “Be not anxious for your life;” so also for “what we shall eat and drink, for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” He that “giveth to the beast his food and to the young ravens that cry” has said, “I am with you always. I will never leave or forsake you.”

This was the day set for decamping and going northward, but a cold rain has prevented. So we have sat in our tent, while the Indians have filled every vacant nook and corner, watching with curious eyes every movement we make. We do all we can to communicate with them, but that is little; our thoughts are like the contents of sealed bottles ready to burst.