Chapter VII: The Great Chief Congo and His Clan

_Dec. 23._ Our Indian friends arose early this morning to make ready for receiving the coming troop from the north, and the young chief went out to meet and to escort them into camp. About noon they began to arrive, and for hours they kept pouring in and pitching their tents around us.

As usual all the labor was performed by the squaws, while the men and children assembled in multitudes before our tent, gazing upon us with eager curiosity and smiling good-nature. The clan consists of several hundreds, and when mounted it looks like a straggling regiment. It is headed by a young man whom they call Congo, and to whom they give the title of “de capita le grande.”

Soon after his arrival this grand captain came and introduced himself to us as the great chief of the tribe, and spent several hours with us. He is a splendid specimen of physical organization, about six feet three inches high, well formed and graceful in figure and movements. He has a mild, open countenance with an intellectual stamp, and full of kindness and good-nature. His manners are easy and natural, and one might at first sight take him for a half-civilized native.

He rides a splendid horse, and dressed in his skin leggins and rich fur mantle he makes a fine appearance for a Patagonian. He speaks many Spanish and some English words, and thinks himself quite a learned man, especially as he can count ten in English.

He told us that a large part of this tribe were with Santa Maria, and that they would be here in one moon.

He inquired of us about our country. Was it great? were there plenty of guanacos? How we came to Patagonia; how many moons we were on the water? How long we had been here; how long we would remain? What goods we had brought? Whether we were not great captains and owners of many vessels? And many such like questions. To all these inquiries we gave him truthful answers that seemed to satisfy and please him. He was also curious to know the English name of almost everything around. After a social interview he invited us to visit him at “de casa le grande”--the great house--and presenting his hand in all the apparent cordiality of civilized etiquette, he left us and returned to his own tent.

Besides the grand captain there are several inferior officers, whom they call “poco capetans,” or little captains, but how either of these offices is filled or what are the distinctive powers of each we have not yet learned. To all appearance, the man who shows the most prowess in fighting, the greatest dexterity in hunting, and the largest amount of loquacity and self-assurance becomes, like Nimrod of old, a natural leader of his tribe, and the people look up to and follow him.

At the same time there is little appearance of rule or government among them. Most of these savages assume an air of boldness and independence, as if every man was born a king and had never been conquered or made to serve, and thus they sweep the plains like the Bedouins, and roam from the Straits of Magellan to the Rio Negro on the north and from the shores of the Atlantic to the western Andes. To one of these subordinates, Santa Rio, we were introduced. He speaks the Spanish language, and shows by his name that he has been with priests of the Catholic Church. Four years ago he was sent from the Falkland Islands, where he was then residing, by the governor of those islands to trade for horses. Since then he has remained with the Patagonians, taken a wife from among them, and seems to have cast in his lot with the tribe. He is quite inferior in his person, but has more intelligence and a greater degree of civilization than most of the Indians. He is dressed in pantaloons and shirt of English fabric, over which he wears the skin mantle.

Of him we made many inquiries about the country and people. He informed us that Queen Maria was at Port St. Julian, north of Santa Cruz, on the Atlantic coast, about twelve days’ journey from the Strait, and that there were about one thousand Indians with her. He also told us that the Lorice clan belonged to another tribe, and was composed largely of Tierra del Fuegians; that they spoke a different dialect (a fact we had surmised), and that they usually avoided the northern tribes of horsemen, for fear of becoming enslaved. Captain Louis told us that when they heard of the approach of the great Congo they were afraid, and left our camp before his arrival.

Thus we now see “the good hand of our God upon us” in first putting us under the care of our friend Louis, and then in preventing us from yielding to the flattery and the earnest and repeated solicitations of Lorice and his party to go with them. Although this persistency on our part left us for a season with only one family of five persons, yet in the end it has connected us with this large and ruling tribe, which it is probable we should never have seen had we gone as we were urged to do.

This sojourn of Louis and his family with the more degraded clan of Lorice was, we are informed, occasioned by his taking a woman of that clan for a wife, who after the great quarrel left him and went off again with her own people.

Toward evening the two daughters of our aged chiefs came smiling to our tent to greet us. We had supposed that they had become attached to young Indians of the Lorice party and had left their parents and brothers forever. We understand they had been sent for during the day and brought back from their wanderings. During the afternoon several of the “little captains” came to introduce themselves or be introduced, and to have a friendly chat with us.

At twilight, after the Indians had retired to their tents, Louis came to advise us to gather much brush into our tent on the morrow, because, said he, “Much Ingus;” and as there is but very little brush, he feared we would be robbed of our supply. Thus his thoughtful and provident care is constantly exercised on our behalf.

All things now look bright and cheering, and in our connection with this large company we hope to increase our knowledge of the country, and of the numbers, character, and habits of its inhabitants. These facts once obtained we shall be ready to embrace the earliest opportunity to return to our country and report, agreeably with our instructions, in Boston. But as no provision has been made for a vessel to come for us, the time of our departure from this country is altogether uncertain: whether in a month, a year, or never is all unknown to us.

_Dec. 24._ On awaking this morning my ears were saluted by the crowing of a cock. The music excited such a thrill of delightful sensation, and awakened such pleasing associations, that for the moment I seemed transported back to the rural scenes of my native land, and I could hardly realize that we were surrounded by wild savages. On going out among the tents we find quite a number of fowls, all living in the cabins and thoroughly domesticated.

Many of this tribe have a few manufactured articles which they obtained from vessels that have passed through the Strait or anchored in ports on the Atlantic coast.

The Indians of this land are physically a noble race. They are tall, well formed, and strong. They are not, however, gigantic. None of them are over six feet six inches, and few of them will weigh over two hundred pounds; and there is not a large proportion of them that will measure over six feet in height. Owing to the nature of their food, their great exertions to procure their game, and their roaming habits, there is little tendency to obesity among them. I have seen taller and much larger men among Americans and Europeans than among Patagonians. We are inclined to estimate the average height of what are called by sailors the “Horse Indians,” or the pampas tribes, at five feet ten inches, and their average weight at 170 pounds. We think the extravagant estimate so often made of the size of the Patagonians has arisen from seeing them standing, walking, or riding on the shore, wrapped in their immense mantles of skin with the wool on, and with the upper end of this mantle rising above the head like a hood.

Some strangers have estimated the height of these savages at nine or more feet, and it may not be improbable that some of them have indulged in a touch of romantic exaggeration. While some of the women are large and tall, the average height of the females is much less than that of the men. There are many hoary heads in this tribe, some of whom appear venerable. During the day a very aged man came to our tent-door, and observing us engaged in writing, he began to clamor loudly and rapidly as if it were something very bad. Our good old Indian mother, who was in an adjoining tent, hearing his angry tones, came speedily to our help and remonstrated with the old savage with great earnestness. In a few minutes came Louis and bent down by the side of the old man, who was squatted before our door, and in mild and persuasive tones labored to pacify him and to convince him that our writing was not bad. But the excited old man still continued to storm more vehemently than ever, and poor Louis, finding all his efforts to still his rage fruitless, came within the tent and seated himself close to us, as if determined to stand between us and harm. The noise without had aroused the Indians in the camp, and numbers came to see and hear what was the matter. Under these circumstances we thought it prudent to lay aside our writing, which having done, and having taken kind notice of the old man, offering him water to drink from our own cup, he became quiet and soon retired, to our no little satisfaction.

As we could not understand the old man’s words, we tried to learn from Louis the cause of his rage. He gives us the impression that it was our writing, but why we cannot now comprehend. Doubtless it arises from some superstitious fear.

After the aged Indian had left us, Louis inquired how many hatchets we had, and advised us to present one to the old man, telling us that he was one of the captains and a good man. This advice seemed wise and timely, and to partake of the nature of the instructions of “Him who spake as never man spake,” viz., “Do good to them that hate you.” We therefore told him that the old _capitan_ should have a hatchet to-morrow.

Another event to-day was the bringing of a sick man to our tent, to whom Mr. Arms gave medicine, and promised to visit him to-morrow.

_Dec. 25._ This morning our young friend brought the old growling captain of yesterday to receive the promised hatchet. He appeared much pleased with the gift. We also showed him some of our things, and tried to converse with him in a kind manner, when he became quite cheerful and apparently perfectly friendly. In this whole affair we admired the conduct of Louis. He exhibited so much mildness and gentleness, mingled with such respect for the aged captain, that, though an untaught heathen, we perceived that he was not wholly ignorant of the practical use of the maxim, “A soft answer turneth away wrath.” Who taught him to “rise up before the hoary head and to honor the face of the old man”?

He certainly managed the case admirably, and for aught we know saved our lives, as a riot at one time seemed imminent. During the turmoil of yesterday the grand Captain Congo was present, but he did not interfere except to say a few words now and then, the purport of which we did not understand. It is a happy and providential circumstance for us that our friend Louis and the great captain are on terms of intimate friendship. They speak kindly of each other and appear like affectionate brothers.

It is also very evident that Louis has created a general impression in our favor throughout the camp. This is seen in the smiling faces of the savages, their frequent visits to our tent, their presents of venison, and the pleasant regard they show us. But we are still a riddle to them, and they often say that we are unlike any other white men they have seen.

Captain Congo has been with us much to-day, and conversed in his usual cheerful manner. His mind is very active, and he is exceedingly inquisitive. He plies us with numerous questions, and seems anxious to get information on many subjects. We long with yearning desire to communicate to him those great truths--those “things of God,” of Christ, of the soul of man, of its destiny; things which “the natural eye hath not seen, and which have not entered into the heart of man,” but which are revealed only by the Gospel through the divine Spirit. But we are shut up on these themes for want of a medium of communication.

Congo tells us that he and many of his men will set out to-morrow on a grand four days’ hunt, and invites us to accompany him. This we decline lest the fierce riding and the hard lodging should be too severe for us, and lest our presence and lack of skill and prowess should prove a hindrance to their movements.

A certain old man by the name of Captain Chen visits us every day and converses--or tries to--with much good cheer. He speaks Spanish tolerably well, and seems happy in spending his time with us. He is usually the first man to visit us in the morning. He has been out to-day on a hunt, and returning this evening he rode up to our tent-door, calling out, “Ha! Americanas!” On going out, he presented us with two large hams of guanaco, and a liver. Soon after this, the old man who raged so yesterday rode up and gave us another fine piece of meat. Captain Louis followed with his liberal donation, so that now we are overstocked with meat.

Several men, complaining of bodily infirmities, visited us to-day and Mr. Arms administered to them. The Indians also crowd around us to get their spurs and knives sharpened, and to obtain needles inserted into wooden handles, like awls, for sewing their mantles and other work. They are very happy to avail themselves of our skill and kindness in teaching and assisting them in many little things, which please them and draw them around us. We are surrounded by them most of the time, except when we sleep.

_Dec. 26._ The day has been filled up with our usual round of duties: entertaining the savages, making little articles of use to them, distributing small presents, attending to the sick, etc.

At evening Captain Chen came and took a supper of meat and broth with us in the best American style we could command. While eating along came Captain Ben, the boisterous old man whom Louis pacified, and he also partook with us. Both seemed highly delighted with the attention shown them, often exclaiming in praise of the supper, “Much bono, much bono.”

Suddenly there was a noisy rushing of the Indians from the camp to the plain at a little distance. Immediately our old Indian mother came to tell us the cause of the excitement, as she always does when things do not go regularly. By expressive gestures she gave us to understand that two men were fighting with clubs; but as the crowd which surrounded them was great, we could not see the combatants. No efforts seemed to be made on the part of the chiefs to separate the fighters, and they went on like two mad bulls to beat and bruise each other, till, bloody and weary, they desisted.

Just before sundown a young man whom we did not know came to our tent-door, and, sitting down in a crowd, he began a long and loud harangue, vociferating and gesticulating with great earnestness. What the matter was we could not tell, but there was no doubt about his being displeased with something, and probably with us. Perhaps it was because we had not shown him sufficient attention, as we were now told that he was one of their captains. Several of our aged friends were with us, and they occasionally said a few mild-toned words to the young orator, apparently to pacify him, and would then, turning to us, say, “You no malo, you bono; we bono, Ingus bono.” At length he retired, and the day closed in peace. Captain Congo came to see us and introduced his father, a tall, venerable-looking old man with a very mild and cheery countenance.

_Dec. 27._ Old Captain Ben made us an early visit this morning, bringing as a present a small bundle of rock salt. Whether this was a product of Patagonia or whether it was obtained from some ship we do not know. We have never seen the Indians use salt, and had supposed that they did not know the use of it, but Captain Congo tells us there is much of it in the camp. Old Ben looked so smiling when he presented the salt that we have rarely received a gift with more pleasure.

The grand hunt of four days was organized to-day. Towards noon the company moved off under the direction of the great captain and his subalterns, taking with them what they call their “poco casas”--little tents--made for temporary uses. Nearly all the sound men, together with many women to carry the tents and other necessary apparatus, have gone in the troop, while few remain behind except the old and infirm, the women and children, and a few lazy drones; so that we are in the stillness of an almost deserted camp. We do not, however, regret this, as it affords us a little relief from the confinement and fatigue occasioned by an incessant crowd of visitors from the time we rise in the morning till late in the evening.

_Dec. 28._ The morning passed without interruption. At noon many of the lazy and impudent Indians gathered around us, among whom was a man whom we judge to be a Spaniard, from his appearance and from his knowledge of the Castilian language. On the day of his arrival he came and squatted before our tent, and listened to our conversation with Captain Santa Rio relative to the country, its inhabitants, etc., with eager attention and evident suspicion.

He was quite social to-day for a long time, but at length he began to inquire what goods we had, and commenced begging one thing after another with intolerable earnestness and rapidity. We thought not best to gratify his cupidity, and only gave him two needles fitted into handles for _hodling_ (sewing). He seemed dissatisfied and began to talk rudely, using offensive and impure language. This is common among these savages, and yet our ears have never been offended by anything of the kind from Louis and his old father and mother. We ceased conversation with this rude man, and he remained mute in our tent until night.

Some young savages seeing our axe lying at the door, took it without permission and went off to a clump of bushes, and began to amuse themselves by cutting; but the good mother, ever watchful of our interests, went boldly to them, took the axe out of their hands, and restored it to us. This she did of her own accord without a word from us.

_Sunday, Dec. 29._ Both my companion and myself being indisposed, we closed our tent and received no visitors until afternoon. As soon as we opened, in came the old Spaniard and remained until dark, recounting his great poverty, reminding us of our vast wealth, and keeping up an incessant begging. He appears to be supremely indolent, and this is the cause of his poverty. While others are active in procuring food, or in making or mending mantles, he lounges in his cabin or wanders about begging of others.

Before night we heard a shout,--“Pigo! Pigo!” “Barko Americana,”--and on looking out thought we descried smoke in the direction of the Strait, towards which the Indians pointed, and where they were confident a vessel had entered. But as the leaders and most of the strong men were absent on the great hunt, they seemed disinclined to go down to the sea. They said, however, that if one of us would go to-morrow, they would furnish us a horse and guide.

Not a whisper has come to us from our own country or from any other part of the world since we landed, on the 14th of November. We have thus far been as completely cut off from all communication with friends as if we were on another planet. Is it any wonder, then, that our hearts leap for joy at the prospect of hearing from, or of sending some word to, the absent loved ones? On the morrow, therefore, “if the Lord will,” one of us will hasten to the Strait.

_Dec. 30._ Last night a heavy frost spread around us, blighting the flowers and touching the grasses. This seemed remarkable, as the mercury was at 73° yesterday noon and it is hot to-day. We arose early and aroused the Indian who promised yesterday to be the guide to the sea. He lingered about securing the horses, though still repeating his promises to go. At length we started him off, but after being gone a long time he returned without the horses. By the actions of the savages we began now to suspect that they were unwilling we should go, probably fearing that in the absence of the chiefs we would go on board a vessel and not return, though we assured them to the contrary. As they did not move to help us, we gave up our hopes and went to our work. Soon, however, the man brought up two animals and saddled them; this revived our hopes, which were only again to be dashed to the ground as we saw the Indian and his brother mount the horses and gallop off in another direction. Thus ended their promises, and thus our eager expectations failed.

During the day our thermometer, which was hanging outside of our tent, was stolen. The loss was reported to our vigilant and faithful mother. So, after we had retired for the night, she came and called at our door and delivered up the missing article, together with a lost hammer. This done, she went entirely around our tent tightening the cords, and seeing that nothing had slipped out from under it and that nothing was exposed to be stolen. She is our most resolute and faithful police, and to us she seems a God-send.

_Dec. 31._ The last day of this, to us, remarkable year.

The great Indian hunt is over, and, according to arrangement, the host of hunters, laden with spoil, returned to-day. According to promise before he left, Congo brings us six livers, and many others give us large pieces of guanaco, but rather sparingly of ostrich-meat, of which, on account of the fat, they are very fond. The returned hunters crowded around us, delighted to meet us again, and the grand captain inquired with interest about the smoke at Gregory’s Bay, and whether a “barko Americana” were there. He proposed to go himself to the shore to-morrow, and invited one of us to accompany him; but as we tell him the vessel has undoubtedly left before this time, he gives up the idea of going.

After a genial visit, he gave us the parting hand in a very affectionate manner, and returned to “le casa grande” for the night.

We have been hoping a way would open for us to proceed westward to the Andes, and that we might, if possible, reach the Pacific coast, or get among the Araucanian Indians south of Chili, but the chiefs shake their heads ominously at the idea, and say it is impossible.

So the year closes upon us, and we are here “shut up to faith,” not knowing what may be the developments of the coming year.

_Jan. 1, 1834._ We salute each other with “a happy new year,” while our thoughts turn to the dear friends in the land of our fathers. We are here among savages, shut out from all the tender and precious endearments and priceless privileges of social and Christian civilization. No whispers of sympathy come to us on the night air, no voice of love echoes along these everlasting mountains from the northern winter to the regions of southern summer. No white-winged messenger-bird comes over the wide waste of waters to tell us of our loved ones’ welfare. No morning greetings and evening benedictions of “kith and kin” come to our ears. No voices arrest us but the harsh sounds of the savages, the neighing of horses and baying of dogs, the roar of winds, and the rush and rattle of rain and hail.

“The sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and hills never heard,”

nor are the savages charmed by the silent voices of the stars or the sweet harmony of the constellations. No light shines upon them from above. Even the bright orbs of heaven--sun, moon, and stars--are to them unknown and meaningless factors in the great framework of creation.

The Indians have spent this day as they do most of their days, in idleness and recreations. Ball-playing is their favorite amusement.

Captain Congo visited us, and proposed to remove the whole camp down to Gregory’s Bay to-morrow.

Many of the petty chiefs are opposed to this, and say they will not go. So there is loud talk and much disputation among them, and Congo came in the evening to say the opposition was so strong that the removal would not take place. So we see that his will and his word are not absolute.

_Jan. 2._ Very early this morning the great chief informed us that the camp would remove to-day, but not to the sea-shore. We struck our tent at once, and prepared to decamp. The march began about 10 +A.M.+, but it was 2 +P.M.+ before the ground was cleared. When about to depart they raised a great smoke, as is usual with them on such occasions.

Our faithful friend Louis took special care for us; furnished us with saddle-horses and horses for our luggage, which he carefully packed and watched until it was safely deposited in our quarters at the new station. This removal brought us within about twelve miles, as we suppose, of the Strait. This looks as if the warm dispute of yesterday ended in a compromise to go part way to the shore rather than to remove quite to the bay.

The appearance of our camp when broken up and on the march is truly grotesque. Some two hundred strong men mounted for the chase, armed with spurs, bolas, and knife, and accompanied by dogs that we cannot number, lead the van, or deploy to the right or left as scouts, while a larger company of women and children, with tents, poles, furniture, and all they possess, brings up the rear; often moving in parallel lines along the several trails, and often extending for many miles over the plains. Their horses are sometimes so heavily laden as to fall under their burdens.

Several guanacos were taken on the way, and on our arrival at the camp-ground we were presented with a fine portion of meat. One Indian rode up to us on the road and gave us each a piece of roasted ostrich which he had taken _en route_. He afterwards gave us the skin of the bird.

_Jan. 3._ Our present location is pleasant. On our left is a range of low mountains, overlooking a broad extent of country, including the Magellan Strait and the distant and dim shores of Tierra del Fuego. In our rear is a hill to break the force of the wind, with an open champaign in front.

In the afternoon Louis and I rambled out and climbed the hill behind our camp to obtain the wide view it affords, and to gather some insipid wild berries which grow on its sides, and which the Indians call “yanker.”

While on this hill we saw three large smoke-signals on the south side of the Strait, made by the Indians of Eastern Tierra del Fuego. On descending from the hill we descried a smoke in the direction of Cape Gregory, and our people said that other Indians had arrived there.

Just at dark one man on horseback came to the camp from that direction, and on his approach the Indians rushed out in great numbers to meet him.

It is reported that Queen Maria is advancing with a very large train, and our camp is all astir.