Chapter V: Patagonia (2)

On December 14th the landscape was absolutely grey and colourless, so that Guia Narrows were not seen to advantage. Later the channel was wider and the possibility of sailing debated, but abandoned in view of the head wind. We had been struck with the absence of life and fewness of birds, but we now saw some albatrosses. In slacking away the anchor preparatory to letting go in Tom Bay, in a depth stated to be seventeen fathoms, it hit an uncharted rock at eleven fathoms. It was still raining as we left Tom Bay, but when we turned up Brassey Pass, which lies off the regular channel, the clouds began to lift, and Hastings Fiord and Charrua Bay were grand beyond description. From time to time the mists rose for an instant, and revealed the immediate presence of reach beyond reach of wooded precipices; or a dark summit appeared without warning, towering overhead at so great a height that, severed by cloud from its base, it seemed scarcely to belong to the earth. Then as suddenly the whole panorama was cut off, and we were alone once more with a grey sea and sky.

FIG. 14.

CANOE CORDUROY PORTAGE BETWEEN PORT CHURRUCA AND MANA INLET.
]

FIG. 15.

PATAGONIAN WATERWAYS.

Showing water near the land smoothed by growing kelp.
]

As we approached Charrua, we caught sight among the trees on a neighbouring island of something which was both white and nebulous; it might, of course, be only an isolated wreath of mist, but after watching it for a while we came to the conclusion that it was undoubtedly a cloud of smoke. Our hopes of seeing Indians, which had grown faint, began to revive. As soon as we were anchored, orders were given that immediately after dinner the launch should be ready for us to inspect what we hoped might prove a camping-ground. This turned out to be unnecessary, as the neighbours made the first call. In an hour’s time S. came to inform me that two canoes were approaching full of natives “just like the picture-books,” whereon the anthropologists felt inclined to adapt the words of the immortal Snark-hunters and exclaim:

“We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
Seven days to the week I allow,
But an Indian on whom we might lovingly gaze
We have never beheld until now.”

The crew, however, were fully convinced that the hour had arrived when they would have to defend themselves against ferocious savages. They had been carefully primed in every detail by disciples of Ananias at Buenos Aires, and by the bloodcurdling accounts of a certain mariner named Slocum, who claimed to have sailed the Straits single-handed and to have protected himself from native onslaught by means of tin-tacks sprinkled on the deck of his ship. The canoes were about 23 feet in length, with beam of 4 to 6 feet and a depth of 2 feet. Six Indians were in one and seven in the other; all were young with the exception of one older man, and each boat contained a mother and baby. Their skins were a dark olive, which was relieved in the case of the women and children by a beautiful tinge of pink in the cheeks, and they had very good teeth. Their hair was long and straight, and a fillet was habitually worn round the brow; the top was cut _à la brosse_, giving the impression of a monk’s tonsure which had been allowed to grow. The height of the men was about 5 feet 4 inches. Most of the party were clad in old European garments, but a few wore capes of skins, and some seemed still more at home in a state of nature. They had brought nothing for sale, but begged for biscuits and old clothes. I parted with a wrench from a useful piece of calico, in the interests of one of the infants, which was still in its primitive condition; it was accepted, but with a howl of derision, which I humbly felt was well merited when it was seen that the rival baby was already wrapped in an old waistcoat given by the cook. One of the Indians talked a little Spanish, and was understood to say he was a Christian.

After dealing with them for a while we offered to tow them home, an offer readily understood, and accepted without hesitation. It was a strange procession amid weird surroundings; the sun had shown signs of coming out, but had thought better of it and retreated, and we made our way over a grey sea, between half-obscure cliffs in drizzling rain, taking keen note of our route for fear of losing our way back. Truly we seemed to have reached the uttermost ends of the earth. The lead was taken by that recent product of civilisation a motor-launch, containing our two selves and our Glasgow socialist engineer; then at the end of a rope came the dinghy, to be used for landing, the broad back of one of our Devonshire seamen making a marked object as he stood up in it to superintend the towing of the craft behind. The two canoes followed, full of these most primitive specimens of humanity, while the rear was brought up by a seal, which swam after us for a mile or so, putting up its head at intervals to gaze curiously at the scene. S. had brought his gun, and as we approached the camp thought it well to shoot a sea-bird, for the double reason of showing that he was armed and giving a present to our new friends. The encampment was situated in a little cove, and nothing could have been more picturesque. In front was a shingly beach, on which the two canoes were presently drawn up, flanked by low rocks covered with bright seaweed. In the background was a mass of trees, shrubs, and creepers, which almost concealed two wigwams, from one of which had issued the smoke which attracted our notice (fig. 16).

We returned next morning to photograph and study the scene. The size of the shelters, or tents, was about 12 feet by 9 feet, with a height of some 5 feet. They were formed by a framework of rods set up in oval form, the tops of which were brought together and interwoven, and strengthened by rods laid horizontally and tied in place: the opening was at the side and towards the sea. Over this structure seals’ skins were thrown, which kept in place by their own weight, as the encampments are always made in sheltered positions in dense forests. With the exception that they do not possess a ridge-pole, the tents, which are always the same in size and make, closely resemble those of English gipsies, the skins taking the place of the blankets used by those people. No attempt was made to level the floor, the fire was in the middle, and in one the sole occupant was a naked sprawling baby, who occupied the place of honour on the floor beside it. In some of the old encampments, which we saw subsequently, there were as many as six huts, but it was doubtful if they had all been occupied at the same time. The middens are outside and generally near the door. Some of the Indians were quite friendly, but others were not very cordial, the old women in particular making it clear to the men of the party that their presence was not welcome. The old man, whose picture appears (fig. 17), was apparently the patriarch of the party, and quite amiable, though he firmly declined to part with his symbol of authority in the shape of his club; in order to keep him quiet while his photograph was taken he was fed on biscuits, which he was taught to catch after the manner of a pet dog. The staff of life is mussels and limpets, and we saw in addition small quantities of berries. A lump of seal fat weighing perhaps 10 lb. was being gnawed like an apple, and a portion was offered to our party. The dogs are smooth-haired black-and-tan terriers, like small heavy lurchers; they are, it is said, taught to assist their masters in the catching of fish.[5]

The company presently showed signs of unusual activity, and began to shift camp; the movement was not connected, as far as we could tell, with our presence, and, judging by the odour of the place, the time for it had certainly arrived. It was interesting to see their chattels brought down one by one to the canoes. Amongst them were receptacles resembling large pillboxes, about 12 inches across, made of birchwood, which was split thin and sewn with tendons. In these were kept running nooses made of whalebone for capturing wild geese, and also harpoon-lines cut out of sealskin: at one extremity of these last was a barbed head made of bone; this head, when in use, fits into the extremity of a long wooden shaft, to which it is then attached by the leather thong. The possessions included an adze-like tool for making canoes, the use of which was demonstrated, and resembled that of a plane; also an awl about 2 inches long, in form like a dumb-bell, with a protruding spike at one end. There were small pots made of birch bark for baling the boats, and some European axes. We did not see any form of cooking utensil. When all the objects, including the sealskin coverings of the huts, had been stowed in the canoes, the company all embarked and rowed off towards the open sea.

On leaving Charrua and returning to the main channel we obtained magnificent views of the Andes. Penguin Inlet leading inland opened up a marvellous panorama of snowy peaks, which can be visible only on a clear day such as we were fortunate in possessing; this range received at least one vote, in the final comparing of notes, as to the most beautiful thing seen between Punta Arenas and the Gulf of Peñas. A white line across the water showed where the ice terminated, while small pieces which reached the main channel, looked, as they floated past us, like stray waterlilies on the surface of the sea. We anchored at Ring Dove Inlet, and went on next day through Chasm Reach, where the channel is only from five hundred to a thousand yards in width. Our expectations, which had been greatly raised, were on the whole disappointed, but here again no doubt it was a question of lighting; the usually gloomy gorge was illuminated with the full radiance of the summer sun, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Chasm Reach leads into Indian Reach, in which sea, mountain, and sky formed a perfect harmony in varying shades of blue, with touches of white from high snow-clad peaks. Suddenly, in the middle of this vista, as if made to fit into the scene, appeared a dark Indian canoe with its living freight, evidently making for the vessel. We stopped the engine, threw them a line, and towed them to our anchorage in Eden Harbour. The weather had suddenly become much warmer, and the thermometer in the saloon had now risen to the comfortable but scarcely excessive height of 64°; the crew of the canoe, however, were so overcome with the heat that they spent the time pouring what must have been very chilly sea water over their naked bodies.[6]

FIG. 16.

ENCAMPMENT OF PATAGONIAN INDIANS, BRASSEY PASS. _From sketch and
photos._
]

FIG. 17.

INDIANS OF BRASSEY PASS.
]

FIG. 18.

CANOE IN INDIAN REACH.
]

The party was conducted by two young men; a very old woman without a stitch of clothing crouched in the bow; while in the middle of the boat, in the midst of ashes, mussel-shells, and other débris, a charming girl mother sat in graceful attitude. She was, perhaps, seventeen, and wore an old coat draped round her waist, while her baby, of some eighteen months, in the attire of nature, occupied itself from time to time in trying to stand on its ten toes. A younger girl of about fourteen sat demurely in the stern with her folded arms resting on a paddle which lay athwart the canoe, beneath which two shapely little brown legs were just visible. Her rich colouring, and the faded green drapery which she wore, made against the dark background of the canoe a perfect study for an artist, but the moment an attempt was made to photograph her she hid her face in her hands. The party was completed by a couple of dogs and a family of fat tan puppies, who were held up from time to time, but whether for our admiration or purchase was not evident.

The belongings were similar to those seen at the encampment and there were also baskets on board. The young mother had a necklace which looked like a charm, and therefore particularly excited our desires: in response to our gestures she handed to us a similar one worn by the baby, which was duly paid for in matches. When we were still unsatisfied she beckoned to the young girl to sell hers, but stuck steadfastly to her own, till finally a mixed bribe of matches and biscuits proved too much, and the cherished ornament passed into our keeping. The young men readily came on deck of the yacht, but the women were obviously frightened, and kept saying _mala, mala_ in spite of our efforts to reassure them. After we had cast anchor, the party went with our crew to show them the best spot in which to shoot the net, and on their return ran up the square sail of their canoe, the halyard passing over a mast like a small clothes-prop with a Y-shaped extremity, got out their paddles, and vanished down-stream.

At Eden Harbour a wreck was lying in mid-stream, where she had evidently struck on an uncharted rock when trying to enter the bay, a danger from which no possible foresight can guard those who go down to the sea in ships. English Narrows, which was next reached, is considered the most difficult piece of navigation in the channels: a small island lies in the middle of the fairway, leaving only a narrow passage on either side, down which, under certain conditions, the tide runs at a terrific rate. It was exciting, as the yacht approached her course between the island and opposing cliff which are separated by only some 360 yards, to hear Mr. Ritchie ask Mr. Gillam to take the helm himself, and the latter give the order to “stand by the anchor” in case of mishap; but we had hit it off correctly at slack water and got through without difficulty. From there our route passed through Messier Channel, which has all the appearance of a broad processional avenue, out of which we presently turned to the right and found ourselves in Connor Cove. The harbour terminates in a precipitous gorge, down which a little river makes its way into the inlet. We endeavoured to row up it, but could not get further than 100 or 200 yards; even that distance was achieved with difficulty, owing to the number of fallen trees which lay picturesquely across the stream.

The plant life, which had always been most beautiful, became even more glorious with the rather milder climate, which we had now reached. When the trees were stunted it was from lack of soil, not from atmospheric conditions. Tree-ferns abounded, and flowering plants wandered up moss-grown stems; among the most beautiful of these blooms were one with a red bell and another one which almost resembled a snowdrop.[7] The impression of the luxuriant _mêlé_ was rather that of a tropical forest than of an almost Antarctic world, while the intrusion of rocks and falling water added peculiar charm. Butterflies were seen occasionally, and sometimes humming-birds.

Since our detention at Churruca we had been favoured with unvarying good fortune, and the crew were beginning to say that thirteen, which we had counted on board since Mr. Corry joined us, was proving our lucky number. Now, however, our fate changed; twice did we set forth from this harbour only to be obliged to return and start afresh, till we began to feel that getting under way from Connor Cove was rapidly becoming a habit. On the first occasion the weather became so thick that in the opinion of our Navigator it was not safe to proceed: the second time the wind was against us. We tried both engine and sails, but though we could make a certain amount of headway under either it was obviously impossible, at the rate of progression, to reach the next haven before nightfall; when, therefore, we were already half-way to our goal we once more found it necessary to turn round. It was peculiarly tantalising to reflect that there were, in all probability, numerous little creeks on the way in which we could have sheltered for the night, but as none of them had been surveyed there was no alternative but to go back to our previous anchorage. Residence there had the redeeming point that it proved an excellent fishing-ground. On each of the three nights the trammel was shot at a short distance from the spot where the stream entered the bay, and we obtained in all some 200 mullet. They formed an acceptable change of diet, and those not immediately needed were salted. From that time till we left the channels we were never without fresh fish, catching, in addition to mullet, bream, gurnet, and a kind of whiting; they formed part of the menu at every meal, till the more ribald persons suggested that they themselves would shortly begin to swim.

Our third effort to leave Connor Cove was crowned with greater success, and we safely reached Island Harbour, which, as its name suggests, is sheltered by outlying islands. This bay and the neighbouring anchorage of Hale Cove are the last two havens in the channels before the Gulf of Peñas is reached, and in either of them a vessel can lie with comfort and await suitable weather for putting out to sea. It is essential for a sailing vessel to obtain a fair wind, for not only has she to clear the gulf, but must, for the sake of safety, put 200 miles between herself and the land; otherwise, should a westerly gale arise, she might be driven back on to the inhospitable Patagonian coast. In Island Harbour we filled our tanks, adorned the ship for’ard with drying clothes and fish, and for three days waited in readiness to set forth. At the end of that time it was still impossible to leave the channels, but we decided to move on the short distance to Hale Cove, which we reached on December 24th. Christmas Eve was spent by three of our party, Mr. Ritchie, Mr. Corry, and Mr. Gillam, on a small rock “taking stars” till 2 a.m. The rock, which had been selected at low tide, grew by degrees unexpectedly small, and to keep carefully balanced on a diminishing platform out of reach of the rising water, while at the same time being continuously bitten by insects, was, they ruefully felt, to make scientific observations under difficulties. On Christmas Day it poured without intermission, but it was a peaceful if not an exciting day. It is, I believe, the correct thing to give the menu on these occasions: the following was ours.

SCHOONER YACHT _MANA_, R.C.C.

CHRISTMAS DAY, 1913.

Potages aux légumes à l’Anglais.
Mulets d’eaux Patagonia.
Bœuf rôti d’Argentine. Pommes de terre de Punta Arenas.
Petits Pois à l’Angleterre.
Pouding Noël de Army & Navy Stores, garni “Holly Antarctic.”
Fromage Gouda, Beurre, Pain de Mana, Biscuits Matelote.
Bonbons Peppermint à la School-girl.
Café de Rio de Janeiro.

The forecastle was visited after dinner and each man given a half-pound tin of tobacco. Boxing Day was comparatively fine, and a laundry was organised on shore with great success; a fire was made, old kerosene tins turned into boilers, and the articles washed in camp-baths with water from a streamlet. It is one thing, however, to wet clothes in the Patagonian Channels; it is quite another to dry them. For days afterwards the rain descended in torrents, while the wind blew persistently from the north-west; with one short intermission we lay in Hale Cove weather-bound for thirteen days, till, as some one remarked, “it was a pity that we had not given it as a postal address.” It was tiresome of course, but an interval of rest for all on board after the strenuous passage of the channels was not without advantage; for ourselves journals were written up, flowers pressed, and photographs developed.

Hale Cove was fortunately one of those few ports in which it was possible to get a little exercise, which the denseness of the undergrowth generally rendered impossible. The cliffs, at the foot of which _Mana_ lay, were precipitous and clothed with vegetation to the sky-line, they thus scarcely lent themselves to exploration. There was, however, across the small bay a southern spur, on the top of which for some reason trees had not flourished and which was comparatively clear; this it was possible to reach by landing on a little beach and scrambling along an old track which had been cut through an intermediate belt of wood. We could in this way get some sort of a walk, at the cost of course of becoming soaked through from bogs and dripping vegetation.

Not far from the cove there were traces of a small frame house, and near it flourished European wheat and grass, which had obviously taken root from stray seed. Its history was difficult to guess. Why had a white man lived there, and on what had he subsisted? The only solution suggested was that it might at one time have been a port of call for a line of steamers, and a woodman had been employed to cut fuel. Another dwelling, but made of material found on the spot, had obviously been destroyed by fire, and on its abandoned site native wigwams had been erected. The place was evidently the resort of Indians; when, therefore, we noted near the old track, and not far from the water-course, part of two rough boards protruding from the earth, we hoped that we had chanced on an Indian burial-ground, which would naturally have been of much anthropological interest. The soil which had originally covered the boards had been partially washed away by the rain, and on moving them we found, as had been guessed, that just below were human bones; they were so deeply encrusted with roots and earth that it was only by much digging with our fingers we could get them out at all. Then they proved to be in much confusion, two parts of the skull even were in different places, and it was difficult at first to say whether the body, which was that of a man in middle life, had been buried full length or in the folded attitude so common among primitive peoples. It was my first experience in scientific body-snatching, a proceeding to which later I became fairly well inured, and it felt not a little weird being thus in contact with the dead in his lonely resting-place. A great tree-fern kept guard over the grave on one side, a gnarled trunk bent over it from the other, and the sun gleamed at intervals through the thick branches of surrounding cedars. At last it became obvious that the body had been outstretched, and the grave lined as well as covered with boards, in addition to which there had been a wrapping of some woven material; it seemed therefore evident that the corpse had been that of a civilised man. Who was he? the lumberman, the remains of whose hut we had seen? one of the crew of some vessel which had put in here? or possibly a shipwrecked mariner? for there were traces of an ill-fated vessel in a quantity of coal washed up on the beach. Why, though he had been buried with considerable care, was the grave so shallow, and why had it been left unmarked? We buried him again reverently, and though he was very possibly an unpleasant person when alive, the thoughts of one of us at least, who is naturally mid-Victorian, turned to the mother who had once borne and tended him somewhere and who could so little have pictured where he would lie.

“One midst the forest of the west
By a dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.”
MRS. HEMANS.

We discussed marking the spot, but came to the conclusion that the best way to prevent its again being disturbed was to obliterate all traces of it; so there the nameless man rests on in his hidden grave.

The wind still being contrary, charts and sailing directions were ransacked for change of scene, and on New Year’s Eve we shifted our quarters, proceeding up Krüger Channel, and anchoring in a little cove called after De Wet: as Joubert was also in the neighbourhood, officials of the Chilean Government who had surveyed the district had apparently been of pro-Boer sympathies. On January 1st, 1914, we went out into the Gulf of Peñas, only to find that it was useless to attempt to put to sea, and we returned again to Hale Cove. The _Challenger_ had, we found, anchored in the same spot on New Year’s Day, 1876. During the next few days Mr. Ritchie, with the help of Mr. Corry, occupied himself at my husband’s request in surveying a small cove as a possible anchorage for lesser craft.

FIG. 19.

HALE COVE.
]

A shooting expedition also took place after kelp-geese, which are large birds about the size of Aylesbury ducks. When cruising in the launch we saw at some distance a couple of them swimming in the sea; we circled round them in the endeavour to get a shot, till we were about a hundred yards distant, when they took the alarm and made off. They are unable to fly, but when, as in this case, they anticipate danger scuttle along on the top of the water, lashing it up with their webbed feet. The surface was smooth as a mirror, and the boat went about seven miles an hour, but for some two miles we were unable to overhaul them. Presently they dived and separated, and on their reappearance we continued to follow one of them. During the whole of the pursuit, whenever the wobbling of the boat and the antics of the bird permitted the fore and back sights to be brought in line, a ·275 mauser bullet was sent somewhere in the neighbourhood of the fleeing object. The goose apparently came to the conclusion that the white launch, with its spluttering motor, was a peculiarly formidable sea-beast, and the safest place would be on land; he therefore went on shore, climbed up some rocks, and looked at it; a bullet between his feet, however, unsettled his mind on the subject, and he once more took to the water, where he finally met his doom. Light, who happened to be with us, witnessed the chase with intense delight, and constantly referred to it afterwards as the most exciting recollection of the voyage. As was not astonishing in the case of such an athletic bird, no part of him proved to be eatable except his liver, which was excellent.[8]

On Tuesday, January 6th, we at last got our favourable wind and said good-bye to Hale Cove. It is the usual resort for vessels entering and leaving the channels, but we had lain there for nearly a fortnight in the height of the season without seeing a trace of a ship, a fact which shows how little these waterways are frequented. As we passed out of the Gulf of Peñas we gazed with interest on the unfriendly and barren peaks of Wager Island, where Anson’s store-ship of that name was lost on May 14th, 1740, after the squadron had rounded the Horn. The members of the crew who survived the wreck, one hundred and forty-five in number, were there for five months, at the end of which time they had been reduced by about one-third, chiefly through starvation. Seventy or eighty of the remainder then took to the longboat and cutter, of whom thirty finally reached the coast of Brazil via the Magellan Straits. The rest of the survivors, a party of twenty, including the captain and an officer named Byron, a great-uncle of the poet, made their way northward, and through the aid of Indians four of them managed to reach the Spanish settlements in Chile. The graphic account given by Byron of their surroundings on the island would be equally applicable to-day, and has already been quoted in these pages.