Chapter XVII (1)

Beagle and Adventure sail from Port Famine through Magdalen and
Cockburn Channel--Enter Pacific--Death of Mr. Rowlett--Chilóe--Chile
--Government--Adventure sold--Consequent changes--Plans--Mr. Low
--Chonos--Lieut. Sulivan’s party--Moraleda--Ladrilleros--De Vea
--Sharp--San Andres--Vallenar--Mr. Stokes--San Estevan--Distressed
sailors--Anna Pink Bay--Port Low--Potatoes--Indian names--Huafo
--Volcano--Chilotes--Aborigines--Militia--Freebooters--Climate
--Docks--Tides--Witchcraft--Alerse--Calbucanos--Cesares--Search
for men--Meteors.

June 9th. Good equal altitudes having been obtained, after an interval of time sufficient for rating our chronometers,[1] we sailed from Port Famine, went down the Magdalen Channel, enjoying some fine scenery, among which Sarmiento was pre-eminent, and anchored in a cove under Cape Turn. The following day we beat to windward through the Cockburn Channel, and would have anchored at night had a safe place offered in time, but as the only cove near us at dusk was a very small one, I preferred leaving that unoccupied for the Adventure, and remaining under way in the Beagle. The night was long and very dark, small rain fell nearly all the time, and squalls from the westward were frequent. There were but four square miles in which it was safe to sail to and fro after dark, and for fourteen hours we traversed that area in every direction. It was necessary to keep under a reasonable press of sail part of the time, to hold our ground against the lee tide; but with the ebb we had often to bear up and run to leeward, when we got too near the islets westward of us. In a case of this kind a ship is so much more manageable while going through the water than she is while hove-to, and those on board are in general so much more on the alert than when the vessel herself seems half asleep, that I have always been an advocate for short tacks under manageable sail, so as to keep as much as possible near the same place, in preference to heaving-to and drifting.

When the day at last broke on the 11th, we saw the Adventure coming out to us from the cove where she had passed the night, and then both vessels sailed out of the Channel, past Mount Skyring and all the Furies, as fast as sails could urge them. At sunset we were near the Tower Rocks,[2] and with a fresh north-west wind stood out into the Pacific, with every inch of canvas set which we could carry.

On the 26th we were still together, in latitude 43° and longitude 75°, although gales had occasionally separated us for a few hours. After passing the latitude of 45° we had a succession of bad weather, and adverse (N.W.) winds. Trusting too much to our usual good fortune I had steered in too direct a line towards Chilóe, and in consequence all these north-west winds were against us. Had I shaped a course which would have taken us farther from the land, while we had the wind southward of west, we might have made a fair wind of these provoking north-westers, and arrived at Chilóe at least a week sooner. A few remarks upon the wind and weather, between the parallels of forty and forty-seven, off Chilóe and the Chonos Archipelago, will be found in the Appendix (No. 19).

On the 27th we witnessed the last moments of Mr. Rowlett’s existence in this world. He had long been sinking under an internal complaint of which it was impossible to cure him, except by a vigorous and uniform mode of treatment to which he was not willing to conform until too late: but his illness had no relation whatever to the service in which he had been employed. He was much regretted by all of us, having been a kind, honourable friend. The following day we committed the body of our deceased companion to the seaman’s grave, that “ever-changing and mysterious main.” In the evening we were near the north-west end of Chilóe, and at midnight an anchor was let go in our former berth, off Point Arena. The Adventure arrived two days afterwards, her main-boom having broken in a heavy squall on the 27th, in consequence of which she got to leeward, and was prevented from sooner weathering the north end of the island. A supply of fresh provisions and good rates for the chronometers were obtained, after which we sailed (14th July) for Valparaiso, and arrived there together on the 22d.

My first object would have been, after seeing the vessels securely moored, to go to Santiago, present my instructions in the proper quarter, and ask for the sanction of the Chilian government, in prosecuting the survey of the coasts of Chile; but I was so much in arrear with respect to computations and charts, that I could not venture to give even a week to an excursion to that agreeable place, where a thousand attractive novelties would inevitably have diverted my attention in some measure from the dull routine of calculation, and attention to the data accumulated by many months’ exertion of those on board the Adventure, as well as in the Beagle; therefore I sent Lieutenant Wickham, who spoke Spanish, and had been at Santiago before, to show my instructions to the Authorities, and request their approval of our examination of the shores under their jurisdiction. Nothing could be more satisfactory than the reply (Appendix No. 20), and from that time until the Beagle left Chile she received every attention and assistance which the Chilian officers could afford.

As I proposed to remain at Valparaiso during the winter months, Messrs. Stokes, King, Usborne, and myself, whose occupation would be sedentary and would require room, as well as more light and quiet than we could always have on board, took up our quarters on shore; while those on board attended to the refit and provisioning of our vessels.

At this time I was made to feel and endure a bitter disappointment; the mortification it caused preyed deeply, and the regret is still vivid. I found that it would be impossible for me to maintain the Adventure much longer: my own means had been taxed, even to involving myself in difficulties, and as the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty did not think it proper to give me any assistance, I saw that all my cherished hopes of examining many groups of islands in the Pacific, besides making a complete survey of the Chilian and Peruvian shores, must utterly fail. I had asked to be allowed to bear twenty additional seamen on the Beagle’s books, whose pay and provisions would then be provided by Government, being willing to defray every other expense myself; but even this was refused. As soon as my mind was made up, after a most painful struggle, I discharged the Adventure’s crew, took the officers back to the Beagle, and sold the vessel.[3]

Early in November our charts of the eastern coasts of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, as well as those of the Falkland Islands (the work of the Adventure) were finished, and shipped off for England; and on the 10th we sailed, alone, to resume our more active occupations on the southern coasts. My former intention was to have filled up all blanks in the charts of the outer west coast of Patagonia, between the parallels of fifty-three and forty-eight, and then carried a connected survey along the coast to the equator; after which the Galapagos Islands; Dangerous Archipelago; Marquesas, Society, Friendly, and Feejee Islands; besides New Zealand; were to have had as earnest an examination as could be effected by both vessels during 1836 and part of 1837. That this plan might have been carried out by the divisions of labour and exertions of the Beagle and her tender may, I think, be inferred from what has actually been executed with inferior means and in much less time. But my reduced arrangements were on a much smaller scale: I could only look to the most useful objects that might be effected within the limited time to which I dared to look forward.

All on board partook, more or less, of the mortification caused by parting with our consort, just as she was most wanted, and most able to take an effective part; and I confess that my own feelings and health were so much altered in consequence--so deprived of their former elasticity and soundness--that I could myself no longer bear the thoughts of such a prolonged separation from my country, as I had encouraged others to think lightly of, while I could hold out to them the prospect of seeing as well as doing a great deal among the islands of the Pacific, besides completing the surveys of Chile and Peru.

I now proposed, first, to go to San Carlos, there set two of our boats at work among the islands eastward of the large island, while the Beagle would survey the more exposed coasts, those to the west and south; then the ship was to examine the seaward shores of the Chonos archipelago, while another of her boats was employed among those islands; and, the Chonos explored, she would return to San Carlos, collect her scattered parties, and proceed along the coast, northwards, taking all the ports and islands in her way.

On the 21st we arrived at San Carlos, and were pleased to find that Mr. Low had returned safe from his difficult undertaking; and that a person (Mr. Douglas) whom I had engaged to make an excursion to Calbuco and into the forests of ‘Alerse,’ on the Cordillera of the Andes, had also come back with the required information, and was ready to engage himself to act as a pilot and interpreter.

When last at San Carlos I proposed to Mr. Low, then serving as pilot on board the Adventure, to pass the time of our absence at Valparaiso, in exploring part of the Chonos Archipelago with a whale-boat belonging to me, and a crew of natives (Chilotes). Low, ever restless and enterprising, entered eagerly into my views; so furnishing him with money, a chart, and a few instruments, I explained where I wished him to go, and when he should be again at San Carlos, all further arrangement being left to him.

Mr. Low hired a crew of six men,[4] and set out. After he had quitted the southernmost place at which provisions could be procured, called Caylin, or ‘El fin de la Christiandad,’ one of his men[5] persuaded some of the others[6] to eat up the stock of provisions in the boat as soon as possible, in order that they might be obliged to return without going far. But Low was too much inured to hardship to be so easily diverted from his plan; he went on, directly south, even after his provisions were consumed; obliging them to live for fourteen days upon shell-fish and sea-weed. After exploring much of the Chonos Archipelago, sufficiently to facilitate our survey materially, he returned with his hungry crew to Caylin.

24th. Lieutenant Sulivan set out with the yawl and a whale-boat, to survey the east side of Chilóe and the islets in the Gulf of Ancud.[7] With him were Messrs. Darwin, Usborne, Stewart and Kent; Douglas as a pilot, and ten men. Two days afterwards, the Beagle sailed, to examine the western coast of Chilóe, and the Chonos Archipelago.

Dec. 2d. While standing towards distant mountainous land, about the latitude of 45°, we saw a comparatively low and level island;[8] considerably detached from those which seemed like Tierra del Fuego, being a range of irregular mountains and hills, forming apparently a continuous coast. This level island I have since ascertained to be that formerly called Nuestra Señora del Socorro, where Narborough anchored and landed, in 1670. It was selected in 1740, by Anson, as a rendezvous for his squadron; but no one seemed to know where to look for it: the Anna Pink having made the land in 45°. 35′, and the unfortunate Wager in 47°, near Cape Tres Montes. Narborough mentions seeing ‘an old Indian hut’ on this island; and in a MS. journal, written by Moraleda[9] (now in my possession) it is said that the former natives of the Chonos used to make annual excursions to that as well as other outlying islands. After witnessing the distance to which savages venture in such frail canoes as those of Tierra del Fuego, it does not surprise one to find them going fifteen or twenty miles across an open space of sea in such large canoes as those of the Chonos Indians, which are indeed boats. Fuegian wigwams have been found upon Staten Land and upon Noir Island, each of which is as far from any neighbouring coast as Socorro is from the nearest shore.

While Narborough’s ship was under sail, near Socorro, he went in his boat to the island which is nearest to it, by him named Narborough Island.[10] There he landed, and took possession for his Majesty and his heirs.[11]

3d. Having passed the night quietly at single anchor, near the north-east point of Socorro, we weighed and continued our route to and fro along the coast, taking angles, soundings, and observations. On the 5th, we were near Huafo,[12] which, to our surprise, we found to be twenty-five miles farther north than the Spanish charts (following Moraleda) showed its position, yet the longitude was almost correct. In a small cove, near the south-east point of Huafo, we anchored, but broke a bower-anchor in doing so; for the cove is small--an unexpected puff of wind gave us too much way--and dropping the bower in haste, it fell upon a rock, and broke.[13] Only two days before another anchor was broken, near Socorro, by the ship pitching while a short scope of cable was out, and the anchor hooking to a rock. I found, on landing, that the formation of the island, like that of Socorro and Narborough Island, is a soft sandstone, which can be cut with a knife as easily as a cake of chocolate.

These three outlying islands are thickly wooded, rather level, compared with their neighbours, and not exceeding eight hundred feet in height. There are few, if any others, like them in the Chonos Archipelago; almost all the rest, however portions of some may resemble them, being mountainous, and very like those of Tierra del Fuego and the west coast of Patagonia, beyond 47° south; therefore I need only remark, that the vegetation is more luxuriant; that there is a slight difference in it, consequent probably upon a milder climate; that some productions, such as canes and potatoes, &c., are found there which do not grow near the Strait of Magalhaens; and that in other respects, as to appearance, nature, and climate, the Chonos Archipelago is like Tierra del Fuego in summer.

We remained a few days in San Pedro harbour; and on the 9th Mr. Sulivan and his party joined us. Next day Mr. Stokes and I endeavoured to get to the top of the mountain named Huampelen, Huamblin, or San Pedro; but after climbing, creeping, struggling, and tumbling about, among old decayed trees, strongly interwoven canes, steep, slippery places, and treacherous bog, we failed, and gave up the attempt. Mr. Darwin, Douglas, and others were with me, but we were all foiled.

11th. Having despatched Mr. Sulivan, with the same party excepting Mr. Darwin, we got under weigh, and hastened towards the middle of the Chonos group, in order to find a port whence Mr. Stokes might set out to explore northwards, while I should examine the southern half of the archipelago.

13th. We succeeded in finding a sheltered, and apparently safe anchorage in a road named by me Vallenar, because it corresponded in situation to an island so called in an old chart, said to be of the Chonos, but which bore no resemblance whatever to them. However, being anxious to remove no “neighbour’s land-mark,” and retain original names, when they could be ascertained, I kept them wherever I was able to do so. As to the native names, those given by Indians, I had not the means of finding them out, for no inhabitants were seen; but, so far as Moraleda had collected them from his Indian interpreters, and made them known by his chart,[14] I have scrupulously followed him.[15]

16th. Mr. Stokes set out, in a whale-boat, to work northwards, as near the sea-coast as possible, and meet me at a harbour in the Huaytecas group of islands, now called Port Low. He was accompanied by Mr. Low, Mr. May,[16] and four men.[17] Moraleda, in his diary and chart, describes a channel which crosses the Chonos Archipelago, and is called by the natives ‘Ninualac.’[18] Through this passage the Chonos Indians used to go once or twice a year to inspect the small herds of goats, or flocks of sheep which they then had upon those outlying islands I have already mentioned, namely Huamblin[19] (Socorro), and Ipun (Narborough); as well as upon others, of which I believe Lemu, a woody island on the north side of Vallenar Road, was one. Moraleda himself explored part of the continent, and some of the islands adjacent to it (between 1786 and 1796), but he saw nothing of the sea face of the Chonos. What few notices of it existed, prior to 1834, were obtained from the voyage of Ladrilleros in 1557; from the Anna Pink in 1741; from Machado in 1769; and from the Santa Barbara in 1792; which, when compared together, tended to confuse a hydrographer more than they assisted him. In Spanish charts of the coast from Cape Tres Montes northward to Taitaohaohuon (a name long enough to perplex more verbose men than sailors) from which all others, of that coast, were copied, that portion must have been originally laid down according to magnetic, instead of true bearing; and the fragments of knowledge acquired, about the latitude of 46° S., from the master of the Anna Pink, the pilot Machado, and the officers of the Santa Barbara frigate, clashed so much that their result was what we see in the charts hitherto used, a dotted line, and a few straggling islands, totally unlike the truth, leading one to expect a comparatively open space, whereas there is a succession of high and considerable islands, so near one another, that from the offing they ‘make’ like a solid unbroken coast.

While on this subject I may remind the reader that besides the expeditions above-mentioned, the missionary voyages described by Agüeros (Appendix, No. 23), the important undertaking of Sarmiento, and the disastrous voyage of the Wager, there have been other visitors to the west coast of Patagonia, part of whose acquired information, though slight, is upon record.

In 1552, two ships, commanded by Don Francisco de Ulloa, were sent by Valdivia to gain some knowledge of the Strait of Magalhaens.[20] The journal of their voyage is not extant. Five years afterwards (in 1557), Don Garcia Hurtado, Viceroy of Peru, sent two vessels to examine the southern part of the coast of Chile, as far as the Strait of Magalhaens. The commander was Juan Ladrilleros, and with him were two pilots, named Hernan Gallego and Pedro Gallego. A mutiny took place, and one ship deserted, but with the other Ladrilleros persevered, passed four months in the Strait at anchor during the winter, then reconnoitred the eastern entrance, and afterwards sailed back to Chile, where he at last arrived with only one seaman and a negro, the rest of his people having perished by exposure to hardships, by scurvy, or by famine. The principal geographical information obtained at so high a price, was some slight knowledge of Chilóe, and the archipelago of islands near it.--(Burney, vol. i. p. 246-9.)

Sarmiento’s expedition in 1579-1580, has already been often quoted in the first volume of this narrative.

In 1675 Antonio de Vea was sent from Peru in a ship, accompanied by small barks, as tenders, to reconnoitre the Gulf of Trinidad, and the western entrance of Magalhaens Strait. De Vea made an examination of those places, and was convinced, from the poverty of the land, that no settlement of Europeans could be maintained there. One of the Spanish barks, with a crew of sixteen men, was wrecked on the small islands called Evangelists, at the west entrance of the Strait. De Vea returned to Callao in 1767.--(Burney, iv. 76.)

In 1681, the notorious Sharp anchored in a gulf, surrounded by craggy mountains, whose tops were covered with snow, in 50°. 40′. south latitude; where “the difference of the rise and fall of the tide was seven feet perpendicular.” Sharp named the anchorage Shergall’s Harbour, the sound he called English Gulf; and the islands adjacent “Duke of York’s Islands.” The account of this buccaneer’s visit is sufficiently connected with the object of this volume, to warrant my inserting it in the Appendix, copied verbatim from that interesting work, invaluable to seamen and hydrographers, Burney’s History of the Discoveries in the South Sea.[21]

18th Dec. The Beagle weighed and sailed out of Vallenar Road, after experiencing the shelter afforded by that anchorage, during a heavy gale from the south-west and southward.

At day-light on the 20th we were off Cape Tres Montes: having a fine day and smooth water, we surveyed the coast between that promontory and San Andres Bay, but it became dark before an anchorage could be gained. Next morning we anchored in a narrow creek,[22] close by a singular cone (1,300 feet high), an unfailing land-mark. Finding it a place difficult to get out of, and not to be recommended, unless in distress, we did not stay there long, but moved to a cove at the south-west part of the bay.[23] While under sail for this purpose, advantage was taken of an interval of moderate weather to run several miles along the coast northward, and back again. Strong gales set in afterwards and kept us prisoners several days. This Christmas was unlike the last: it was a sombre period. The wind blew heavily (though we did not feel it much, being well sheltered); all looked dismal around us; our prospects for the future were sadly altered; and our immediate task was the survey of another Tierra del Fuego, a place swampy with rain, tormented by storms, without the interest even of population: for hitherto we had neither found traces,[24] nor heard the voices of natives.

28th. Directly the weather would admit, we weighed and coasted along till the sun was getting low, when we ran under shelter from sea and wind, and anchored in the corner of a bay which I afterwards concluded must be the bay or port called Stephens, and more properly, San Estevan. While we were furling sails, some men were seen on a point of land near the ship, making signals to us in a very earnest manner. Being dressed as sailors, it was natural for us to conclude that they were some boat’s crew left there to collect seal-skins. A boat was sent to them, and directly she touched the land they rushed into her, without saying a word, as men would if pursued by a dreaded enemy; and not till they were afloat could they compose themselves enough to tell their story. They were North American sailors, who had deserted from the Frances Henrietta (a whaler of New Bedford), in October 1833. When off Cape Tres Montes, but out of sight of land, and in the middle of the night, these six men lowered a boat and left their ship, intending to coast along until they should arrive at Chilóe. Their first landing was effected on the 18th, but owing to negligence the boat was so badly stove that they could not repair her, and all their hopes of effecting a coasting voyage were thus crushed in the very outset.

Finding it impossible to penetrate far into the country, on account of its ruggedness, and thick forests, which, though only trifling in height, were almost impervious, they began a pilgrimage along-shore; but it was soon evident, to their dismay, that there were so many arms of the sea to pass round, and it was so difficult to walk, or rather climb, along the rocky shores, that they must abandon that idea also, and remain stationary. To this decision they were perhaps more inclined after the death of one of their number; who, in trying to cross a chasm between two cliffs, failed in his leap, fell, and was dashed to pieces. Their permanent abode was then taken up at the point which shelters Port San Estevan, now called Rescue Point; where they passed a year in anxious hope. Of course the few provisions which their boat had carried ashore were soon exhausted, and for thirteen months they had lived only upon seals’ flesh, shell-fish, and wild celery: yet those five men, when received on board the Beagle, were in better condition, as to healthy fleshiness, colour, and actual health, than any five individuals belonging to our ship. Few remarks worth noticing had been made by them, as the only experienced man (whose name was John Lawson) lost his life as above-mentioned. There was an almost continual succession of rain and wind for several months after their first landing, except from the 20th to the 29th of December, which passed without rain: in July (1834) they had an extraordinary storm from south-west, which began early one morning, after a rainy night with northerly wind: and in November (1834) there were twenty-one days successively without rain. One day (in May) they saw eight vessels sailing northwards together; excepting which, not a sail was ever seen by their aching eyes till the Beagle hove in sight. Between San Andres, near which they first landed, and San Estevan, the hull of a small vessel was found, quite bedded in sand; she seemed to be about thirty-five tons burthen, from thirty to thirty-five feet in the keel, and about sixteen broad. She was full-built; neither coppered nor sheathed. In a cave, which had been used as a dwelling, near San Andres, the skull of a man was found, and some burned wood. A bracelet of beads was lying in the cave, but they noticed nothing else. The skull seemed to them to have been that of a black man. No animals were seen at any time except deer and nutria, seal and otter; the former were of a reddish colour, with short straight horns, and very rough coats: no traces of other quadrupeds were observed, nor during the whole fourteen months did they ever meet a native human being. They told me that the night tides seemed always to be a foot or more higher than those of the day, which, as they said, rose from four to seven or eight feet perpendicularly. I had intended to explore the interior of Port San Estevan; but as they had already done so, and found it terminate in a fresh water river, or rather mountain stream, I gave up that plan, and sailed next day.

29th. While examining the coast towards Cape Taytao[25] (I must omit haohuon), we found a very dangerous patch of rocks,[26] five miles from the nearest land; there are soundings near them. In the evening we dropped our anchor under Inchemo Island; an interesting locality, because there the Anna Pink anchored before she was drifted across the adjacent bay into Port Refuge (in 1741).

30th. On landing an old wooden hut was discovered in a sheltered corner, and we found that the island was overrun with goats, which I suppose to have been left by the Santa Barbara’s crew, if not by Machado’s people. While Mr. Stokes and I were engaged with the instruments, and two boats sounding, a couple of guns were sent against the goats, and in consequence of their effectual employment in the hands of Mr. Bynoe and H. Fuller, all on board had a good fresh meal the next two days. After noon we sailed across the Bay,[27] and found a snug, though very small cove,[28] where we moored in security, and remained till the 4th of January, exploring the neighbourhood--an unprofitable wilderness of rocky mountains, woody and swampy valleys, islands and rocks in profusion, and inlets or arms of the sea penetrating in every direction.

On the 4th we moved to Port Refuge, a safe, but out of the way place. In the “narrative of what befel the Anna Pink,” given in Anson’s Voyage, this harbour is described in very glowing colours; but we may remember that those who discovered it, were there saved from destruction; and naturally looked upon all things around them with excited feelings.[29] How the officers of the Santa Barbara made their survey of this port and its neighbourhood I am at a loss to know; a mere eye-sketch, drawn upon the spot, might have been much better than that which they gave to the world as a mathematical plan. In their distorted representation of Port Refuge, many soundings have been scattered, apparently at random, and quite at variance with truth. This is so unlike most Spanish works of a similar nature, some of which are very accurate,[30] considering the date of their manufacture, and the means employed,--that I conclude the officers of that frigate, not understanding marine surveying, merely drew rough sketches of what they saw, which were afterwards ‘cooked’ into a more regular ‘appearance,’ by some one who was not on board with them. Had time allowed I should have explored the Gulf of San Rafael, at the back of Tres Montes Peninsula,[31] but knowing that it could only be an object of geographical, not immediately practical interest to do so, I refrained from indulging mere curiosity, much as I desired to corroborate the account of Spanish missionaries who often went there, crossing the Isthmus of Ofqui, in search of Indians among the Guaianeco islands, and even farther south, of whom they might make converts to Christianity. Doubtless some of these voyages were undertaken and completed with benevolent and single-minded intentions; but I suspect that others were conducted on a different principle; and that their chief object was to procure able-bodied slaves to be employed in the mines of Chilóe or Southern Chile. I should be glad to learn that this suspicion is ill-founded.[32]

On the 7th we anchored in Port Low, and found Mr. Stokes just arrived, after a fagging cruise among the Chonos islands. His journal contains a great deal of information, from which I have extracted those passages most likely to interest the general reader.

His whale-boat was so loaded at starting (16th Dec.) that her gunwale amidships was but a foot above water. She was twenty-five feet long and six feet broad, and then carried seven men, besides instruments and a month’s provisions. Of water she had only two ‘barecas,’ because on that coast fresh water is only too plentiful. In passing a promontory, the following day, while their boat was still deep, the swell became so great that Mr. Low said he had never before been in a boat exposed to greater danger.

In some places where they landed the woods were so thick that Mr. Stokes was obliged to climb trees to get angles; and not being able to tell previously which would answer his purpose, sometimes he made three or four useless ascents, before he could obtain a view: “but,” he says “there is a pleasure I cannot express in roaming over places never visited by civilized man.” On Rowlett Island potatoes were found growing wild; the largest dug up measured two inches in length, and an inch in thickness: they were quite tasteless.

At the east side of Ipun, on Narborough Island, an excellent small port was found, which was named Scotchwell Harbour. On the shore, near it, was a large bed of strawberries, like those that grow in English woods; and there was a sweet-scented pea, besides abundance of other vegetable produce, both herbage and wood, and plenty of water.

“Hitherto, all the islands we had seen were of slate-rock, some parts so soft, that I could break them easily with my finger, and I found that they blacked my hand, like plumbago; but Ipun is quite different in structure, being an earthy sand-stone.”[33]

Syzygial high water at Ipun takes place at noon, and the tide rises six or eight feet. The flood-tide comes from the southward.

At May Harbour (which may be the Bello Dique of the Santa Barbara), many cypress trees were noticed, for the first time hereabouts, and a surprising number of otters. The tide rose seven feet. About the Huaytecas Islands, the northernmost of the Archipelago, quantities of excellent oysters were found, quite as good as any sold in London. No quadrupeds were seen, except nutria and otters, which were numerous. Their numbers, and the quantity of birds, show that Indians do not now frequent that quarter; indeed, no traces of them whatever were found by Mr. Stokes, or any of our party, among the Chonos islands.

10th. While lying at Port Low we caught plenty of fish with the seine; we obtained oysters from neighbouring creeks, and shot ducks and geese, so there was no want of fresh provision. Some piraguas from Chilóe were in the port: the Chilotes in them were in search of otters, seals, and nutria, and had come across the gulf of Huafo, in their ill-conditioned vessels, with no little trepidation.

On an outlying islet, near Port Low, I first saw the wild potato. Next to seeing a wild man, I recollect few objects which struck me much more than that group of wild potatoes:--but I have neither inclination nor space here to speak of my own sensations. The stems, leaves, and flowers of these vegetables were as large, and appeared to be as healthy, as those in an English garden, but the potatoes at their roots were small, watery, and insipid. It ought to be recollected, however, that we saw them early in January--corresponding to July--many weeks, at least, before one could expect to find eatable potatoes in an English field.

It was remarked in the Chonos islands, as well as in Tierra del Fuego, that the trees which grow in thin soil, lying upon slaty rocks, extend their roots so horizontally that it is not surprising to find, running through woodland, broad tracts whence the shallow-rooted trees have been swept away, partly by wind, partly by the action of mountain-torrents.[34] As wood grows even at the water’s edge in those countries, where not exposed to the first attack of wind from seaward, and as there are so many loose overhanging masses of rock, one cannot be surprised at the vast quantities of drift-wood found in some places; or think it improbable for a quadruped to be occasionally precipitated into the sea, with a falling mass of rocks and trees, and afterwards drifted by wind and current to some other locality.

From Port Low we saw a notable mountain, one of the Cordillera of the Andes, having three points upon a small flat top, about eight thousand feet above the sea. I called it the Trident at that time; but afterwards learned that there are four peaks (one of which was hid by another from our point of view), and that it is called by the aborigines Meli-moyu, which in the Huilli-che language signifies four points.

Three other remarkable mountains, active volcanoes, are visible from the northern Huaytecas islands, as well as from Chilóe; I mean the Corcobado (hump-backed), of which I do not remember the Indian name; Yanteles (or Yanchiñu, which means ‘having a shivering, and unnatural heat’), and Minchenmadom, which, in the Huilli-che tongue, means ‘under a firebrand’; names so expressive and appropriate as to put to shame much of our own nomenclature. Wherever I have been able to discover the aboriginal name of a place in South America, and could ascertain its meaning, I have been struck by the extreme appositeness, as well as by the copious though condensed allusion usually conveyed.

In Chilóe and about the north-eastern Chonos Islands, almost all the aboriginal names are preserved, because there interpreters could be procured; but, of course, such advantages were generally unattainable in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. In Chilóe, as in Araucania, every corner and every conspicuous spot, whether land or water, has a particular and expressive name, a word usually compounded of two or three others: thus, Huapi-quilan means Three Islands; Calbu-co, Blue Water; Cauca-huapi, Gull Island; Huechu-cucuy, Point Cucuy,[35] or Grandmother; Carel-mapu (Cara-el-mapu), Bad-city-country; Petu-cura, middle stone (a rock in Chacao Narrow), &c.

15th. We sailed from Port Low and went to Huafo once more, wishing to give Mr. Darwin an opportunity of examining it geologically. There are now no inhabitants on that island, though there are a good many sheep belonging to Chilotes, who live at Caylin. Formerly there were Indians called Huyhuen-che,[36] upon Huafo; but the Spaniards obliged them to quit it, for fear they should give information or supplies to English ships. Near the Beagle, when at anchor, there was a square place, like an entrance to some cave, seemingly cut by man in the soft sand-stone rock; and I have since often reproached myself for having left the place without ascertaining its real nature. It may be the entrance to some cave, formerly used as a burying-place, similar to those explored by Low, and by the surgeon of the Wager.

On the 17th we sailed, and next day anchored off Point Arena, in San Carlos Harbour. Lieutenant Sulivan, with his party, had arrived a few days previously, after a very satisfactory cruise. We found his boats hauled up and refitted, his people lodged under their tents, and himself with Mr. Usborne busily occupied in my little observatory, laying down the work for which they had collected materials. Thus we were again assembled in safety, after being considerably divided, and, in consequence, exposed to numerous dangers which human prudence can neither foresee nor prevent. As some soundings were still wanted near the English bank, and about the approach to San Carlos, we employed the 19th in taking them, on board the Beagle, accompanied by her boats, and returned to our usual anchorage, close to Point Arena, at dark.

When sounding on the English bank, we repeatedly tried to ascertain its nature by forcing a very long iron lance downwards as far as possible. The instrument penetrated about two feet into sand in all instances but one, when it was stopped abruptly by a substance which bent the lance and turned its point. It did not, however, feel like rock, rather, I should say, like hard wood.[37] This hard place was about a square yard in extent, and all around was sand.

In the night, or rather from two to three the following morning, Osorno was observed in eruption, throwing up brilliant jets of flame or ignited matter, high into the darkness, while lava flowed down its steep sides in torrents, which from our distance (seventy-three miles) looked merely like red lines. Daybreak diminished the effect, and as the light increased only a dark column of smoke could be discerned. This mountain is one of the most striking in form which I ever saw. It is not only quite conical from the base to the summit, but it is so sharply pointed that its appearance is very artificial. When seen from the sea, at a distance of ninety or a hundred miles, the whole of the cone, 6,000 feet in height[38] at least, and covered with snow, stands out in the boldest relief from among ranges of inferior mountains. The apex of this cone being very acute, and the cone itself regularly formed, it bears a resemblance to a gigantic glass-house; which similitude is increased not a little by the column of smoke so frequently seen ascending.

We remained till the 4th of February in the port of San Carlos. Mr. Darwin profited by the opportunity afforded to make an excursion into the interior of the island, while the surveying party were occupied in arranging data, in laying down chart-work, and in taking and calculating observations. I paid Douglas for his services and for a variety of information collected for me, from which--from Lieut. Sulivan’s journal--and from my own notes--I shall now add such few notices of Chilóe as I think may be interesting, and which have not been already introduced in the first volume, (pp. 269-301.)

Various accounts have been given of the characters and dispositions of the Chilotes. Some have said that they are a noble, industrious, and docile race; others that they are dishonest, idle, and ill-disposed: to reconcile these contradictory accounts is, therefore, at first sight, rather perplexing. There are four distinct classes of inhabitants in Chilóe and the adjacent islands;[39] the aboriginal Huyhuen-che, or Chonos; the Huilli-che, who came from southern Chile; the foreigners, those neither born in Chilóe nor descended from Chilotes; and the Creoles. Of these the Chonos are now nearly lost: in consequence of disease and emigration they have by degrees abandoned not only Chilóe but the adjacent Chonos islands, and are only found southward. Some Indians to the south-west of Castro, in the interior of the island near the lake Cucao, are under the nominal jurisdiction of their own caciques: whether they are Chonos or Huilli-che, I did not ascertain clearly. Being a race who are naturally little inclined to cultivate the soil, and preferring a comparatively idle life among muscles, seal, and fish, to voluntary labour on their own account, with a considerable degree of compulsory toil for the Spanish Government and priests, they quitted Chilóe in successive families. From them, probably, are derived the glimmerings of religion, and the crosses among the Indians of Madre de Dios, and other parts of the west coast of Patagonia. That their canoes or rather piraguas, should be similar to those of Chilóe seems natural enough; but the fact is that the Chonos people taught the Huilli-che how to make them.[40] Coming from an inland district near Valdivia, the Huilli-che had never required boats, though they knew how to cultivate potatoes, maize, and beans; how to make ‘ponchos,’ and take care of sheep and cattle. These, though more industrious, and in some respects better members of society, are a tame and docile race compared with the Chonos, whose spirit of independence has shown itself in their migration, and impatience of mis-government.

The principal population of Chilóe is now Huilli-che, nominally Christian but painfully ignorant of pure Christianity. Abandoned to the crooked direction of ungodly pastors, intent upon their own worldly interest instead of the welfare of their flock, extorting ‘primicias’[41] and tithes from poor Indians, whom they scarcely see once in a year (I speak advisedly)--and taught only the Romish doctrine in its worst form; can any one expect the poor Chilotes to be really religious and consequently moral? That they should be extremely superstitious is much more probable, and such is the fact. Their’s is a confused demi-religion, in which a medley of ideas concerning the Virgin Mary, saints, images, and witches,[42] is found far more often than any clear reference to our Saviour or the Almighty.

In the foregoing remarks on the Roman Catholic priests at Chilóe whom I conversed with and heard much about between 1829 and 1835, I do not include all. There was certainly one man (I hope there were more) whom I believe to have been as sincerely pious, and therefore good, as any Roman Catholic, but there were others whose lives scandalized even their nominal Christianity.

The foreigners settled in Chilóe of course resemble their own countrymen as to morals and habits, not being likely to take example from the Indians: and the Creoles adopt their ideas as hastily as our milliners adopt French fashions. But there is a virtue in Chilóe, which if sins could be atoned for by the good works of man alone, would go far towards purchasing good treatment and very slight purgatory for the souls of Chilotes: I mean the warm-hearted kindness shewn to one another, and particularly to strangers. Conspicuous as such a feeling of hospitality and disinterested good-nature is among the descendants of Spaniards in South America, it is no where more to be observed than in Chilóe.

Increased intercourse with other countries is annually diminishing the local peculiarities of Chilote society, a remarkable one being that of transacting mercantile business by barter, for want of current coin. Planks of alerse, indigo, tobacco, pepper, salt, &c. were substitutes for silver and gold in 1829, excepting among a very few foreigners or comparatively rich descendants of Spaniards and Creoles. At that time it was extremely difficult to get a few dollars in exchange for a bill upon good security at Valparaiso, even at the exorbitant price of sixty-pence English for each dollar. In 1834, so much had the state of trade improved at San Carlos, that there was no difficulty in obtaining as many dollars as we wanted for forty-eight pence each.

In the first volume most of the products of Chilóe are mentioned, except fish and coal. Of the shell-fish there is a full account, but I may here add that smelt, mullet, a kind of bass, and other fish are plentiful during the summer months. The natives often catch many more than they want by placing very simple weirs across creeks at high-water, with a passage in the middle, which is shut when the tide begins to ebb. Some of these weirs are rough stone walls (on a small scale), others are wattled like hurdles. The number of fish kept back by them and left dry, as the water falls, is really surprising. Seals are now rare, and whales are fast diminishing in numbers. There is a good deal of coal in Chilóe, but I am told that it is of an inferior description, like that of Concepcion. Geologists say it is not true coal: lignite would be a more appropriate term. Be this as it may I tried some of it[43] in my cabin stove, and found it burn readily, though what I had was a lump taken from the surface of the ground. The Chilotes scarcely noticed it then, having so much wood around them, but a day may arrive in which its value may be better appreciated.

Next to San Carlos,[44] in size and population, is Castro, the former seat of Government, which has dwindled to a mere village. Chacao, where the governor afterwards resided, is only a hamlet. Remains of a town, such as lines of streets and the ruins of a church, are visible, but there are now only a few straggling cottages and a ruinous chapel. It is said, on the spot, that the former church of Chacao was burned by the old Spaniards, to oblige the natives to quit the place and go to San Carlos. Castro, formerly styled a city, now consists of two or three short streets of bad wooden houses and two churches: one of which was built by the Jesuits more than a hundred years ago, and is fast decaying though ‘shored up’ (supported by props) on all sides.

The first discovery of Chilóe was made by Spaniards in 1558, one of whom was Ercilla. Enthusiastic in every thing, the warrior-poet tells us that he ran to a tree, half-a-mile south of the place where his companions halted, and cut some lines on the bark.[45]

The populous state of Chilóe, in 1558, when first visited by Europeans may be estimated by Ercilla’s description, allowing for poetical license. All accounts agree in stating that the Chonos Indians, or Huyhuen-che, were once very numerous.

“Era un ancho archipielago poblado
De innumerables islas deleytosas,
Cruzando por el uno y otro lado
Góndolas y piraguas presurosas:
* * * * *
Llegó una corva gondola ligera
De doce largos remos impelida.”
LA ARAUCANA, Cantos xxxv and xxxvi.

That the Spaniards then with Ercilla, were thought to be deities, is shown by the following lines:--

“Hombres, o Dioses rústicos, nacidos
En estos sacros bosques y montañas,
Por celeste influencia producidos,” &c.
IDEM, Canto xxxvi.

Some years afterwards (in 1566) Castro was founded, to be the capital, and Chacao for a sea-port. From this time till about 1633 mines were worked in Chilóe, but then discontinued, partly because they were less productive than those of Chile, and partly on account of the difficulty of obtaining labourers after a raging epidemic had carried off one-third of the aboriginal inhabitants; and fear of infection as well as horror of the mining slavery, had driven away a large portion of the residue.[46] About this time the Huilli-che were carried to Chilóe, in addition to those who had accompanied the fugitives from Osorno (in 1599-1604) to Calbuco, Carel-mapu, and thence to Chilóe; who being a docile patient race, accustomed to agriculture, increased rapidly and supplanted the Chonos emigrants.

We read in the narrative of Brouwer’s voyage (1643) that the port which the Dutch called Brouwer’s Haven, was by some called Chilova, and by others English Haven: and in 1624, according to Agüeros (quoting D. Cosme Bueno), Englishmen were on this coast: but I think it more probable that the Bank Ingles and Port Ingles, near San Carlos, obtained those names from William Adams, in 1599,[47] rather than from them. In the Dutch chart published with the journal, this island is called Chiloue, and the adjacent gulf, Ankaos, or Ancoed.[48] Brouwer alarmed the inhabitants of Chilóe not a little, but they were even more frightened and harassed before that time by Cordes, in 1600; Spilbergen, in 1615; and afterwards by Shelvocke, in 1719; besides others.

To guard against, or rather watch for such visitors, as well as to obtain the earliest intelligence of an enemy being on the coast, the Spaniards established look-out stations in commanding positions and outer points, such as Cocotue heights, Guabun Head, and Point Centinela; but at the present time no such precautions being thought necessary, there is a supine indifference to molestation.

Wherever Mr. Sulivan went with our boats, nearly all the Indians showed an anxiety for the island to be again under the dominion of Old Spain, and asserted that they were much happier and more prosperous before the revolution than they had ever been since. In a place where he passed two days (Huildad) there was an unusual difficulty in obtaining provisions, and it was accounted for by the natives in the following manner: the proprietor of the tithes had just been there, and had taken from them, in sheep and pigs, the full tenth, not only of those animals, but of the growing crops of corn, apples, and potatoes. He had taken away all that the poor people could be deprived of, excepting only what was absolutely necessary as stock for next year’s supply.

Lieut. Sulivan says, in his journal:--“Besides the tithes, they have also to give ‘first fruits’ to the priests, and so hard are they on their parishioners, with respect to tithes and first fruits, that whether the yearly produce be bad or good, the same quantity must be contributed to swell the revenue of a person whom they seldom see, except at the times of collection.”

This oppression, however, is not allowed by the superiors of the Church, when it is duly represented and proved: for not long ago a curate was dismissed from his parish in Chilóe, because he was a severe extortioner: I was informed that during five years that man had amassed more than thirty thousand dollars.[49] Some of the natives complained bitterly to Lieut. Sulivan of the task-work they were compelled to perform.

At Lemuy he met a small piragua with only three men in it, who were on their way from Castro to Quelan. They had walked across the island from San Carlos where they had been working at the new mole, which all the ‘militia’[50] were obliged to do in turn, each man a fortnight: part of which time was allowed for the journey. These three had worked eight days, finding themselves in everything and receiving no pay; two were old men: one more than sixty years of age; and the third was the oldest man’s son. They all declaimed against the so-called ‘Patriots’ (Chilians) very vehemently, and asked repeatedly when they might hope to see the Spanish flag hoisted again. The old man had been a cacique, and under the Spanish authority had charge of a watch-house and a small party of men, on Point Centinela: but directly the Spaniards were overthrown he was made a private militia-man--“not to fight,” he said, “but to work.” If any public work was in progress, a party of militia-men were ordered to it, in their respective turns: and if the commandant had a friend to oblige, who wanted a job done, he would order a man to work at it for a week, when another would take his place, and so on. For these services no pay was given. The old man said that they were paid in money for every service performed when under the Spaniards; and he could hardly be made to believe that there was no prospect of their returning.