Soundings--Anchor in Santa Cruz--Lay Beagle ashore for repair
--Prepare to ascend river--Set out--View of surrounding country
--Rapid stream--Cold--Ostriches--Guanacoes--Indians--Fish--Cliffs
--Firewood--Lava Cliffs--Difficulties--Chalia--See Andes--Farthest
West--View round--Return--Danger--Guanaco hunters--Puma--Cat
--Tides--Sail from Santa Cruz.
In working to the westward from Berkeley Sound to the River Santa
Cruz, we sounded frequently, and found that the depth is nowhere much
above one hundred fathoms between those places. But the water is not
of so little depth between the Falklands and Cape Virgins, or Tierra
del Fuego; for there we could not strike soundings in some places,
towards the islands, with one hundred and fifty fathoms of line.
On the 13th we anchored in the Santa Cruz, and immediately prepared
to lay our vessel ashore for a tide, to ascertain how much injury had
been caused by the rock at Port Desire, and to examine the copper
previous to her employment in the Pacific Ocean, where worms soon eat
their way through unprotected planks. (16th.) When on the beach, at
a place we afterwards called ‘Keel Point,’ it was found that a piece
of the false keel under the ‘fore-foot,’ had been knocked off, and
that a few sheets of copper were a good deal rubbed. By Mr. May’s
exertions all was repaired in one tide; and the following day we were
making preparations for an excursion up the river.
17th. An examination, or rather a partial exploring, of the River
Santa Cruz had long been meditated. During the former voyage of the
Beagle, Captain Stokes had ascended the rapid current as far as a
heavy boat could be taken; but his account served only to stimulate
our curiosity, and decided my following his example.
Three light boats were prepared (whale-boats strengthened): as much
provision as they could stow with safety was put into them, and a
party of officers and men selected. Lieut. Sulivan, having to
take charge of the ship during our absence, could not go; neither
could Mr. Stewart, or Mr. King, who were required to attend to duties
on board; but Mr. Darwin, Mr. Chaffers, Mr. Stokes, Mr. Bynoe, Mr.
Mellersh, Mr. Martens, and eighteen seamen and marines prepared to
accompany me.
[Illustration: REPAIRING BOAT.
DISTANT CORDILLERA OF THE ANDES.
C. Martens. T. Landseer.
BEAGLE LAID ASHORE, RIVER SANTA CRUZ.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
Early on the 18th we left the Beagle, and with a favouring wind and
flood tide sailed up the estuary, into which the river flows. This
wide and turbid estuary receives a torrent which rushes through a
confined opening into the ocean, during seven hours, and is opposed
and driven back by the flood tide during about five hours of the
twelve. On each side of both the estuary and river lie extensive
plains of arid desert land: these plains are not, however, on the
same level; for, on the northern bank the land is very little raised
above the level of high spring tides; while, on the southern side of
the river, high, perpendicular cliffs form a striking contrast: but
after ascending these heights, by any of the ravines which intersect
them, one finds a dead level expanse, similar in every respect to
that on the northern shore. In the horizon, another ‘steppe,’ or
parallel plain, at a higher elevation, is seen: which, at a distance,
appears like a range of hills of equal height.
Excepting in the porphyry districts, all the eastern coasts of
Patagonia, and the little of the interior which I have seen, seemed
to me to be a similar succession of horizontal ranges of level
land varying in height, intersected here and there by ravines and
water-courses. There are, certainly, hills in many places which
appear when one is passing at sea, or in the distance, conical, or
at all events peaked; but even those hills are but the gable ends,
as it were, of narrow horizontal ridges of land, higher than the
surrounding country.
The cliffs on the south side of the river have a whitish appearance;
and are similar to those on the outer coast, which were said by Sir
John Narborough to resemble the coast of Kent. Their upper outline,
when seen from a distance, is quite horizontal. Brownish yellow is
the prevailing colour, lighter or darker, as the sun shines more,
or becomes obscured. Here and there, in hollow places and ravines,
a few shrubby bushes are seen. But over the wide desolation of the
stony barren waste not a tree--not even a solitary ‘ombu’[1]--can
be discerned. Scattered herds of ever-wary guanacoes, startled
at man’s approach, neighing, stamping, and tossing their elegant
heads; a few ostriches striding along in the distant horizon, and
here and there a solitary condor soaring in the sky, are the only
objects which attract the eye. Certainly, upon looking closely,
some withered shrubs and a yellow kind of herbage may be discerned;
and, in walking, thorns and prickles assure one painfully that the
plain is not actually a desert: but I am quite sure that the general
impression upon the mind is that of utter hopeless sterility. Is
it not remarkable that water-worn shingle stones, and diluvial
accumulations, compose the greater portion of these plains? On how
vast a scale, and of what duration must have been the action of those
waters which smoothed the shingle stones now buried in the deserts of
Patagonia.
Fresh water is seldom found in these wastes; salinas[2] are numerous.
The climate is delightful to the bodily sensations; but for
productions of the earth, it is almost as bad as any, except that of
the Arabian, or African deserts. Rain is seldom known during three
quarters of the year; and even in the three winter months, when it
may be expected, but little falls excepting on rare occasions, when
it comes down heavily for two or three days in succession. Sea winds
sometimes bring small misty rain for a few hours, at any time of
year, but not enough to do good to vegetable productions. The only
animals which abound are guanacoes, and they care little for fresh
water, for they have often been seen drinking at the salinas. The
puma probably quenches its thirst in their blood; of other animals,
supposed to require much liquid, there are none in these regions.
The climate is healthy and pleasant; generally a bright, sunny day is
succeeded by a cloudless and extremely clear night. In summer the
heat is scorching, but not sultry; and in winter, though the weather
is sometimes searchingly cold, especially during southerly winds,
the air is always elastic and wholesome. Changes of wind are sudden,
and cause rapid, though not very great, variations of temperature.
Sometimes the sky is slightly or partially overcast, occasionally
clouded heavily; but on most days there is bright sunshine, and a
fresh or strong westerly wind.
[Illustration: RIVER SANTA CRUZ]
[Illustration:
_MOUTH OF THE_
RIVER SANTA CRUZ
Surveyed by the Officers of
_H.M.S. Beagle._
Port Santa Cruz (_Keel Point_) Lat. 50°. 6′. 45. S.
Long. 68. 24. 0. W.
Var. 20. 54. E.
H. M.
H.W. 9. 45.
Spring Rise 42 feet.
Neap Rise 18.
Strength of tide 3 to 6 Knots.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
The confluence of a continental torrent of fresh water, with great
tides of the ocean, which here rise forty feet perpendicularly, has
embarrassed the mouth of the Santa Cruz with a number of banks.
They are all composed of shingle and mud, and alter their forms and
positions when affected by river-floods, or by the heavy seas caused
by south-east gales.
Into the entrance of the Santa Cruz, the flood-tide sets about four
knots an hour; one may say, from two to five knots, according to
the time of tide, and the narrower or broader part of the opening;
and outwards, the water rushes at least six knots on an average in
mid-channel. There are places in which at times, when acted upon by
wind or unusual floods, it runs with a velocity of not less than
seven or eight knots an hour--perhaps even more; but near either
shore, and in bights between projecting points, of course the
strength of the outward as well as inward current is very inferior.
In such a bight, almost under some high cliffs on the southern shore,
the Beagle was moored, and it is easy to conceive the different views
presented in this situation, with forty feet change in the level of
the water. At high water, a noble river, unimpeded, moves quietly, or
is scarcely in motion: at other times, a rushing torrent struggles
amongst numerous banks, whose dark colour and dismal appearance add
to the effect of the turbid yellow water, and naked-looking, black,
muddy shores.
The boats sailed on between some of the banks, with a fresh southerly
wind, disturbing every where immense flights of sea-birds. Now and
then a monstrous sea-lion lifted his unwieldy bulk a few inches from
the stony bank, lazily looked around, and with a snort and a growl,
threw his huge shapelessness, by a floundering waddle, towards the
nearest water.
As far as Weddell’s Bluff[3] we sailed merrily; but there took to the
oars, because the river makes a sudden turn, or rather, the river
Santa Cruz (properly so called), enters the estuary of the same name
from the south-west, as far as can be seen from Weddell’s Bluff:--but
a little beyond where the eye reaches, it takes a westerly direction.
Another river, the Chico of Viedma, also enters the estuary at this
place from the north-west. Here, a little above the Bluff, the water
was fresh on the surface, and sometimes it is quite fresh, even into
the estuary; but in filling casks, or dipping any thing into the
stream for fresh water, it is advisable not to dip deep, or to let
the hose (if one is used), go many inches below the surface, since
it often happens that the upper water is quite fresh, while that
underneath is salt. This occurs, more or less, in all rivers which
empty themselves into the sea: the fresh water, specifically lighter,
is always uppermost.
Wind failing us entirely, we pulled to the south-west. On our left,
high cliffs still continued, and at their base a wide shingle beach
offered tempting landing-places, with many spots extremely well
adapted for laying a vessel ashore, to be repaired or cleaned; on
our right, a low shore extended, rising gradually, however, in the
north-west,[4] to cliffs like those near Keel Point.
The flowing tide favoured us until about five, when we landed on
the north shore, at a spot where the rise and fall of the tide had
diminished to four feet. Here the river was six hundred and forty
yards in breadth, running down at the rate of about six knots during
a part of the ebb, and from two to four knots an hour during the
greater part of the flood-tide. It was perfectly fresh to the bottom,
and in mid-channel about three fathoms deep; but this depth extended
very little way across, the deep channel being extremely narrow, not
more than twenty yards in width.
The distinct difference between the opposite banks of the river had
been diminishing, until at this spot[5] both sides were much alike.
We had left the cliffs and salt water, and had fairly entered the
fresh-water river. Instead of having a wide extent of dismal-looking
banks and dark-coloured muddy shores, we were at the side of a rapid
stream, unvarying in width, on whose banks shrubs and grass agreeably
relieved our eyes from muddy shingle covered with hosts of crabs.
Our first night passed well, for there were plenty of bushes to
supply us with fire-wood. Early next morning, some of the party went
upon the nearest hills to look for guanacoes, when they saw that
although the surface of the country appeared to an observer near
the river to be irregular and hilly, upon ascending the heights it
became apparent that the stream ran in a large valley; that the
general character of the country was similar to what I have already
described, and that those which had appeared to be hills were the
terminating sides of extensive plains, whose level was about three
hundred feet above the river. Near the fresh water, shrubs, bushes,
and grass were not scarce; but every where on the higher ground a
sterile, stony waste met the eye. Mr. Stokes[6] and I went on the
heights, to obtain a view of the river; and for a considerable
distance we could trace its windings, but were sorry to see a great
number of small islands, thickly covered with brushwood, which seemed
likely to impede our progress if obliged to track[7] the boats.
The southerly wind blew keenly over the high land, and the surface
of the ground was frozen hard; but the air was healthily fresh and
bracing. Where, indeed, could it be purer than on these dry hills?
At first setting out we tried the oars, but very soon found them
unable to contend with the strength of the stream; so landing all
our party, except two in each boat, we made the boats fast to one
another, at a few yards apart, in a line a-head: and then taking the
end of a coil of whale-line ashore, half our party fixed themselves
to it by laniards of broad canvas straps, which passed across their
breasts and over one shoulder, and walked together steadily along the
river’s bank. The bight of the line was passed round a stout mast,
stepped in the headmost boat and attended by the two men, who veered
away or shortened in the line as the varying width of the stream, or
frequent impediments rendered necessary. In this manner, one-half of
our party relieving the other about once an hour, every one willingly
taking his turn at the track rope,[8] we made steady progress against
the stream of the river, which rather increased in rapidity as we
ascended, until its usual velocity was between six and seven knots
an hour. While among the islands which I mentioned tracking was
difficult and tedious, many were the thorny bushes through which
one half of the party on the rope dragged their companions. Once in
motion no mercy was shewn: if the leading man could pass, all the
rest were bound to follow. Many were the duckings, and not trifling
the wear and tear of clothes, shoes, and skin. At intervals stoppages
were made for refreshment and observations.
Three chronometers were carried in the boats, with other necessary
instruments: among them two mountain barometers, with which Mr.
Darwin and myself wished to measure the height of the river above the
level of the sea, and the heights of the neighbouring ranges of hills
above the level of the river. This afternoon we picked up a boat-hook
upon the south bank of the river, which was immediately recognized to
be one which had been left by accident sticking in a mud-bank, by the
party who accompanied Captain Stokes in his excursion up this river
in the year 1827.
It was very cold at our bivouac this night, being a sharp frost:
and while observing the moon’s meridian altitude, dew was deposited
so fast upon the roof of the artificial horizon, and froze there
so quickly as it fell, that I could hardly make the observation.
My sextant was injured a little by the frost, for not having been
used before in very cold weather, the brass contracted so much as to
injure the silvering at the back of the index glass, and slightly
change the index error.
In the morning it was so cold that our usual ablutions were
shunned, and all were anxious to have the first spell at the rope
in order to warm themselves, though few had slept many minutes, and
many had hard work the previous day. The thermometer was at 22°
Fahr.--nothing,--indeed warm weather to Polar voyagers, but to us,
accustomed to temperate climates, it appeared a severe degree of cold.
20th. As we were going along the bank of the river, which to our
great benefit was becoming more accessible and clearer of bushes, we
saw some dark coloured animals crossing the stream at a distance, but
no one could guess what they were until the foremost of them reached
the shore, and rising upon his stilt-like legs, showed himself to
be an ostrich. Six or seven of these birds were swimming across:
till then I had no idea that so long-legged a bird, not web-footed,
would, of its own accord, take to the water and cross a rapid stream:
this, however, was a certain proof to the contrary, for nothing
had disturbed them that we could discern. As far as we could tell,
at so great a distance, they seemed to be of the kind which the
Spanish-patagonians call ‘Avestruz-petis.’ They were, however, far
too wild to be approached with a gun. We saw smoke at a distance and
anticipated meeting Indians, in the course of our next day’s journey.
The country around continued similar to that already described: but
islands no longer impeded our progress, though some high cliffy banks
gave us trouble. At the next place where we passed a night, Mr.
Darwin tried to catch fish with a casting net, but without success;
so strong a stream being much against successful fishing. A very
sharp frost again this night. The net and other things, which had
occupied but little room in the boat, were frozen so hard as to
become unmanageable and very difficult to stow.
21st. We proceeded as usual, dragging the boats up the stream (or
rather torrent, for it never ran less than six knots, and in many
places more) at the rate of about two miles an hour: and as we were
approaching near to the smoke, we chose our position for the night,
rather more cautiously than usual, upon a little peninsula.
22d. We had not advanced a mile this morning, when fresh tracks
of Indians, on horseback, trailing their long lances, aroused our
utmost vigilance. We thought they had been reconnoitring our party,
at day-light, and perhaps such was the case. The smoke of their
fires was seen behind the nearest range of low hills, on our side
of the river, being then on the north bank, but the boats had been
tracking on either side, as better ground for walking was found.
Proceeding on, a dead animal was found in the water, which proved to
be a guanaco; how it came by its death did not appear, as it showed
no external wound, but some of our party, hungrier or less squeamish
than the rest, immediately proposed dividing and eating it; and
hunger carried the day: the dead animal was hauled on shore, cut to
pieces, and distributed. The guanaco steaks were much relished by
all except two or three, who could not conquer their antipathy to
supposed carrion. Our meal was eaten close to the place where we
thought a tribe of Indians was encamped: and, in consequence, our
arms were kept in readiness, and a careful watch set. Afterwards
cautiously proceeding, we arrived at the spot whence the smoke had
issued, but saw no human beings: though marks of very recent fire,
and numerous tracks of feet upon a soft muddy place at the side of
the river, showed that a party of Indians had lately crossed over,
and a smoke rising at some distance on the southern shore, pointed
out where they were gone. At this spot there was about an acre of
good pasture land, by the water side: and the breadth of the river
itself was something less than usual, reasons which had induced the
natives to select it as a crossing place.[9] To pass a river running
at the rate of six or seven miles an hour, and about two hundred
yards in width, can be no easy task to women and children. But as
we saw many prints of very small feet on the muddy bank, both women
and children must have crossed at this place with the men. How did
they get over? there is no wood, neither are there rushes with which
they might make balsas.[10] Perhaps some of the women and children
were put into rough, coracle-like boats, made of hides,[11] and
towed across by the horses, holding by whose tails the men swam and
perhaps many of the women. This method of holding by the tail, while
swimming, is said to be better than resting a hand upon the horse’s
neck and holding by the mane. None of the Indians sit upon their
horses while swimming.
This day (22d) we passed two places which we considered rapids, the
stream of the river ran so violently, and we had so much difficulty
in passing, even with all hands upon the rope. Besides the strength
of the stream we had to contend against high cliffs, over whose upper
edges it was difficult to convey the tow-line: yet we made good about
twelve miles in the day. The night of the 22d was not so cold as the
preceding, but we always found the nights wintry though the days were
warm, so much so, indeed, that we were often annoyed by the heat of
the sun. So winding was the course of the river that we certainly
walked double the distance which was advanced in a direct line: yet
very little of interest, as a picturesque subject, had been seen; for
no country excepting a desert could wear a more triste and unvarying
appearance.
Immense accumulations of shingle, rounded stones, imbedded, as before
mentioned, in diluvial deposition, form the level plain, or valley,
through which the river pursues its very winding course. The width
of this vale varies from one mile to five miles, and the level of
the shingle plain is from three hundred to one thousand feet below
that of the adjacent higher, but still horizontal ranges--whose
broken-down ends, or sides, form the boundaries of the valley through
which the river flows. Those of the higher ranges look like hills
when one is in the valley, and it is not until after ascending to
their summits that their real nature is seen; when, instead of being
inclined to consider those heights as hills, one becomes disposed
to think the valley of the river a vast excavation, cut down below
the level of the neighbouring country. But on the height, or in the
valley, all is an unprofitable waste. Scarcely, indeed, could we find
bushes enough, even near the river, to make our nightly fires, after
the third day’s journey. The wiry, half-withered grass upon which the
guanacoes feed is so scanty, that they are obliged to wander over
much ground in search of their food. Those few stunted bushy trees
which are found here and there, near the river, are a kind of thorn
trees, the wood of which is extremely hard and durable.[12] The night
of the 22d we passed by the side of a little cove, which sheltered
the boats from the strength of the stream: and, as all hands were
tired, we rested during the morning of the following day.
After noon (23d) we went on, and at dark stopped on the south shore.
Scarcity of fuel and a cold night, made it necessary to take good
care of the wood when cut. There may be honour among thieves, but
there was little to be found during a cold night among our party,
for the fire of those who happened to be on watch was sure to blaze
cheerily, at the expense of the sleepers. A little incident occurred
here very unimportant certainly to those unconcerned, yet of much
consequence to us: we left our stock of salt behind, and a spade,
which latter was much wanted for earthing up the sides of our tents,
to keep out the cold wind.
24th. I noticed more than usual a curious effect of the river water
being so much warmer than the air over it.[13] At daybreak, and
until after sunrise, the river was smoking, quite as if it were
boiling. This day we passed some earthy cliffs between two and
three hundred feet in height, and where they came in our way it
was extremely difficult to manage the boats and tow-lines; but by
veering out at those times a great length of rope, our object was
accomplished without any disaster. Near these cliffs the valley of
the river begins to contract and become more irregular, and the sides
or breaking down of the higher ranges become more abrupt and are
nearer to the river. In most places we found a cliffy side opposite
to a low projecting point of shingle, but in some spots that we
passed both sides were high, and we had no choice on which to take
the tow-line. The difference, also, between the level of the higher
ranges and that of the river, was observed to be much increased.
On this day (25th) our best shots succeeded in killing two guanacoes,
but they died out of our reach, and probably became food for pumas,
instead of man. The order of our march was usually one or two
riflemen in advance, as scouts--Mr. Darwin, and occasionally Mr.
Stokes, or Mr. Bynoe, upon the heights--a party walking along the
banks, near the boats, ready to relieve or assist in tracking, and
the eight or ten men who were dragging the three boats along at the
rate of about two miles an hour over the ground, though full eight
knots through the water. Difficult places to pass--delays caused by
embarking and disembarking frequently to change banks, and avoid
impediments--the necessary observations, rest, and meals, occupied so
much time that we did not average more than twelve miles in one day:
and even that small distance was not accomplished without making both
shoulders and feet sore.
26th. In the distance some very level topped, dark looking cliffs,
were seen at the summits of elevated ranges, which Mr. Darwin
thought must have a capping or coating of lava. Of course we were
very anxious to verify a fact so curious, and at noon were quite
satisfied that it was so, having approached to the foot of a height
thus capped, whose fragments had in falling not only scattered
themselves over the adjacent plain, but into the bed of the river, in
such a manner as to make the passage exceedingly dangerous; because
large angular masses, in some places showing above the stream in
others hidden beneath, but so near the surface that the water eddied
and swelled over them, menaced destruction to the boats as they were
with difficulty dragged through the eddying rapid; sometimes the rope
caught under or around one of those masses, and caused much trouble.
Near the spot where we stopped at noon there is a glen, quite
different in character from any place we had passed.[14] Indeed,
upon entering the lava district, or that part of the country over
which lava formerly flowed, there was no longer a Patagonian aspect
around. Steep precipices, narrow, winding vallies, abundance of huge
angular fragments of lava, a more rapid and narrower river, and
plains of solid lava overlying the whole surface of the country, make
this district even worse in its appearance than the eastern coast of
Patagonia. Excepting in an occasional ravine nothing grows, Horses
could not travel far, the ground being like rough iron; and water,
excepting that of the river and its tributary in Basalt Glen, is very
scarce.
The glen above mentioned is a wild looking ravine, bounded by black
lava cliffs. A stream of excellent water winds through it amongst the
long grass, and a kind of jungle at the bottom. Lions or rather pumas
shelter in it, as the recently torn remains of guanacoes showed us.
Condors inhabit the basaltic cliffs. Near the river some imperfect
columns of basalt give to a remarkable rocky height, the semblance of
an old castle. Altogether it is a scene of wild loneliness quite fit
to be the breeding place of lions.[15]
No signs of human visitors were discovered: indeed, the nature of the
country must almost prevent horsemen from traversing these regions,
there is so little food and such bad ground: only in glens or ravines
such as this can any grass or bushes be found. Guanacoes absolutely
swarm upon the heights, a consequence probably of their being
undisturbed. They spread over the face of the high country like
immense flocks of sheep.
[Illustration:
C. Martens. T. Landseer.
BASALT GLEN--RIVER SANTA CRUZ.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
During a long walk this evening Mr. Stokes and I were repeatedly
disappointed by the mirage over an extensive stony plain, between two
bends of the river. We were tired and very thirsty, and went from
one apparent piece of water to another, only to be tantalized and to
increase still more our dilemma.
27th. Similar country. On the banks of the river some drift wood was
found; the trunks of trees of considerable size. Small trees had been
found lying by the side of the river, from time to time, but none so
large as these, some of which were almost two feet in diameter, and
about thirty feet in length. The wood appeared to be ‘Sauci,’ of the
red kind. That these trees had been drifted from a great distance was
evident, because they were much water-worn.
28th. In passing a rapid, whose difficulties were much increased
by rugged blocks of lava lying in the bed of the river, one of our
boats was badly stove and barely rescued from sinking in the middle
of the stream: fortunately we got her on shore and there patched
her up. There was still no change in the scenery, nor any signs of
inhabitants: and our work was as monotonous as heavy.
29th. While upon a high range of lava-capped land, Mr. Stokes and
Mr. Darwin descried distant mountains in the west, covered with
snow. At last, then, the Andes were in sight! This was inspiriting
intelligence to the whole party; for small had been our daily
progress, though continual and severe the labour. The river
increased in rapidity, while but little diminution had taken place
in the quantity of water brought down: the breadth was rather less,
certainly, but the depth in most places greater. No fish had yet been
caught; indeed, only two had been seen, and those seemed to be like
trout.
30th. The snowy summits of the distant Cordillera were more
distinctly seen from the heights, near the river, that rise about a
thousand feet above its level, which, there, is about three hundred
feet above that of the sea. Two guanacoes were shot with my rifle by
H. Fuller,[16] who hastened to the boats for assistance. Some of our
party went directly with him to bring in the animals, but condors and
cara-caras[17] had eaten every morsel of the flesh of one; though
the other was found untouched and brought to the boats. Four hours
had sufficed to the cara-caras and condors for the cleaning of every
bone.[18] When our party reached the spot some of those great birds
were so heavily laden that they could hardly hop away from the place.
The guanaco that was eaten by the birds must have been, by his size,
at least fifty pounds heavier than any shot by us in Patagonia,
therefore about 300lbs. Mr. Darwin and Mr. Stokes had much amusement
with these animals, upon the heights. Being so much tamer there and
more numerous, whole flocks were driven by them into narrow defiles,
where dozens might have been killed had there been more people with
guns, lassoes, or balls.
Though the bed of the river is there so much below the level of
the stratum of lava,[19] it still bears the appearance of having
worn away its channel, by the continual action of running water.
The surface of the lava may be considered as the natural level of
the country, since, when upon it, a plain, which seems to the eye
horizontal, extends in every direction. How wonderful must that
immense volcanic action have been which spread liquid lava over the
surface of such a vast tract of country. Did the lava flow from the
Cordillera of the Andes, or was it thrown out from craters in the
low country? Its position with respect to subaqueous deposits, its
horizontal surface and cellular texture, are reasons, among others,
for thinking that it was thrown out of the earth, while these plains
were covered by a depth of sea.
The valley, or channel of the river, varies here from one mile, or
less, to about three miles; but it looks narrower, owing to the
deception caused by high land on each side. Some of the views are
certainly striking, and, from their locality, interesting; I could
not, however, have believed that the banks of any large fresh water
river could be so destitute of wood, or verdure of any kind, or so
little frequented by man, beast,[20] bird, or fish.
[Illustration:
_C. Martens._ _S. Bull._
SANTA CRUZ RIVER, AND DISTANT VIEW OF THE ANDES.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
May 1st. The weather was invariably fine during the earlier part
of our journey; but this day it began to change, and two or three
gloomy clouded days were succeeded by a few hours only of small rain,
and by some strong wind. This night (1st) we slept at the foot of
heights whose summits were covered with snow, but the temperature was
many degrees warmer than that of the first nights, when it froze so
sharply. There was no particular frost after the 21st of April.
We had great difficulty with the boats on the 2d, the river being
contracted in width, without any diminution of the body of water
pouring down.
On the 3d, we found a more open country, the lava-capped heights
receding gradually on each side, leaving a vale of flat, and
apparently good land, from five to fifteen miles in extent. The width
of the river increased; on its banks were swampy spaces, covered with
herbage; and low earthy cliffs, without either shingle or lava, in
some places bounded the river. A little further, however, the usual
arid and stony plains of Patagonia were again seen, extending from
the banks of the river to ranges of hills, about fourteen hundred
feet above its level, on which the horizontal lava-capping could be
distinctly discerned.
In the distant west the Cordillera of the Andes stretched along the
horizon. During three days, we had advanced towards those far distant
mountains, seeing them at times very distinctly; yet this morning
our distance seemed nearly as great as on the day we first saw their
snow-covered summits. A long day’s work carried us beyond the flat
and into the rising country, whose barren appearance I just now
mentioned. We were all very tired of the monotonous scene, as well
as of the labour of hauling the boats along.
4th. Our provisions being almost exhausted, and the river as large
as it was beyond the lava country, our allotted time being out, and
every one weary and foot-sore, I decided upon walking overland to
the westward, as far as we could go in one day, and then setting
out on our return to the Beagle. I was the more inclined to this
step, because the river here made a southerly bend, to follow which
would have required at least a day, without making much westing,
and because I thought that some of our party might walk in that
time at least twice as far as they could track the boats, and then
return before night. To have followed the course of the river two
days longer, we should have needed all the small remainder of our
provisions, and probably without being enabled to see further than
we might by one day’s walk directly westward. Leaving those who were
the most tired to take care of the boats, a party set out early, in
light marching order. A large plain lay before us, over which shrubs,
very small trees, and bushes were sparingly scattered; yet parts of
this plain might be called fertile and woody, by comparison with the
tracts between us and the eastern sea-coast.
At noon we halted on a rising ground, made observations for time,
latitude, and bearing; rested and eat our meal; on a spot which we
found to be only sixty miles from the nearest water of the Pacific
Ocean. The Cordillera of the Andes extended along the western side
of our view; the weather was very clear, enabling us to discern
snow-covered mountains far in the north, and also a long way
southward; hence much of the range was visible, but of the river
we could discern nothing. Only from the form of the land could we
conclude that at the end of the southerly reach I have mentioned, the
direction of the river is nearly east and west for a few miles, and
that then it may turn northward, or rather come from the north along
the base of the Cordillera.
There are many reasons for inducing one to suppose that it comes not
only from the north, but from a considerable distance northward.
At the place where we ceased to ascend the stream, the Santa Cruz was
almost as large as at the places where we passed the first and second
nights near the estuary. The velocity of the current was still at
least six knots an hour; though the depth remained undiminished. The
temperature of the water was 45°, while that of the air was seldom
so high, even in the day-time, and at night was usually below the
freezing point. Trees, or rather the trunks of trees, were found
lying upon the banks, whose water-worn appearance indicated that
they had been carried far by the stream. The water was very free
from sediment, though of a whitish blue colour, which induces me to
suppose that it has been chiefly produced by melted snow, or that
it has passed through lakes in which the sediment it might have
brought so far was deposited. If filled from the waters of the nearer
mountains only, its temperature would surely be lower, approaching
that of melted snow: it would also, in all probability, bring much
sediment, and would therefore be muddier, and less pure in colour.
[Illustration:
_C. Martens._ _S. Bull._
CORDILLERA OF THE ANDES, AS SEEN FROM MYSTERY PLAIN, NEAR THE SANTA
CRUZ.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
When one considers how large an extent of country there is between
the River Negro and the Strait of Magalhaens, and that through
that extensive region only one river of magnitude flows, it may be
difficult to account for the manner in which the drainage of the
eastern side of the great Cordillera is carried off, or where the
melted snow and occasional heavy rains disappear.
The Gallegos is small, though it runs into a large estuary. The
Chupat river is very small: that at Port Desire is scarcely more than
a brook. At times, it is true, these smaller rivers are flooded, but
their floods (added to their usual streams) seem unequal to carrying
off the continual drainage of the Andes. South of the Negro only
the Santa Cruz flows with a full and strong stream throughout the
whole year, and my idea is that the sources of the river Santa Cruz
are not far from those of the southern branch of the Negro, near
the forty-fifth degree of latitude; and that it runs at the foot of
the Andes, southward, through several lakes, until it turns to the
eastward in the parallel of fifty degrees.
In Viedma’s Diary I find that he heard from the Indians at Port San
Julian (in 1782) that the river Santa Cruz flowed from a large lake
near the Cordillera of the Andes, and that there was abundance of
wood on its banks. In consequence of this information, he went, in
November, with a party of Spaniards and Indians on horseback, to
explore this lake. In his way, Viedma crossed the river Chico, which
flows into the estuary of the Santa Cruz, just above Weddell Bluff.
The Chico, though small at times and then fordable, was subject, the
Indians said, to great floods in the spring, when the melting snows
of the Cordillera over-filled a lake, far in the north-west, whence
this river ran. Afterwards, Viedma crossed the river Chalia, which
they told him rose in another lake near the Cordillera, was likewise
subject to floods, and emptied itself into the Santa Cruz: when he
passed, it was only up to the horses’ knees (after searching many
leagues, however, for a ford), but at his return it was deeper. This
Chalia can be no other than the stream which flows through Basalt
Glen, a mere brook when we saw it in the dryest season of the year.
Viedma reached the lake,[21] and found every thing correspond to the
description; for it was deep and large, surrounded by snow-covered
mountains, on which were many forests.
Some persons have doubted whether there is ever much drainage to be
carried off from the eastern side of the Andes, between the parallels
of forty and fifty; but if they will take the trouble to read
Viedma’s Diary, and some other notices to be found in the work of Don
Pedro de Angelis, I think they will be convinced that there is always
a considerable drainage, and that at times there are heavy floods to
be carried off.[22]
Reference to the accompanying plan will shew our position when we
halted, and I decided to return, not having explored, I should think,
more than one-third of its course. At that place the level of the
river was found to be four hundred feet higher than that of the sea
at the entrance; and as the distance is about two hundred miles,[23]
the average descent or fall of the water must be near two feet in a
mile, which, I apprehend, is unusually great. I could not, indeed,
believe that the computation and data were correct, until after
repeated examination.[24] Two barometers were used at the river-side,
and a very good one was carefully watched on board the Beagle.[25]
Certainly, the rapid descent of the river, in many places, was such,
that even to the eye it appeared to be running down-hill; and this
remark was often made in the course of our journey.
Two days before we reached our westernmost point, many traces of an
old Indian encampment were seen; but excepting at that place and
at the spot which we passed on the 22d, no signs of inhabitants
were any where found. Scarcity of pasture, and the badness of the
ground for their horses’ feet, must deter Indians from remaining in
this neighbourhood; but that they frequently cross the river, when
travelling, is well known.
The quantities of bones heaped together, or scattered near the river,
in so many places which we passed, excited conjectures as to what
had collected them. Do guanacoes approach the river to drink when
they are dying? or are the bones remains of animals eaten by lions
or by Indians? or are they washed together by floods? Certain it is
they are remarkably numerous near the banks of the river; but not so
elsewhere.
I can hardly think that the guanaco is often allowed to die a natural
death; for pumas are always on the alert to seize invalid stragglers
from the herd. At night the guanacoes choose the clearest places for
sleeping, lying down together like sheep; and in the day they avoid
thickets, and all such places as might shelter their ever-watchful
enemy. Condors, also, and fierce little wild cats[26] help to prevent
too great an increase of this beautiful, inoffensive, and useful
animal.
Late on the 4th we returned to our tents, thoroughly tired by a
daily succession of hard work, and long walks. At this bivouac we
were about one hundred and forty miles, in a straight line, from the
estuary of Santa Cruz, or from Weddell Bluff; and about two hundred
and forty-five miles distant by the course of the river. Our station
at noon on the 4th, was eight miles in a straight line farther
westward, and about thirty miles from the Cordillera of the Andes.
The height of those mountains was from five to seven thousand feet
above our level, by angular measurement with a theodolite. Early on
the 5th we began the rapid descent. Sometimes the wind favoured,
and we passed the land at the rate of ten knots an hour; sometimes
dangerous places obliged us to turn the boat’s head to the stream,
pull against it, and so drop down between the rocks. Though easy, the
return was far more dangerous than our ascent of the river.
5th. Our first day’s work in returning was a distance of eighty-five
miles, which had cost us six days hard labour in ascending. Next day
we made good about eighty-two miles; and on the 7th we reached the
salt water. Although we made such quick progress in returning, our
halts for observations were similar to those made in going. While
descending the rapid stream, so quickly and quietly, we saw many
more guanacoes and ostriches than we had seen before; but our flying
shots only frightened them, and time was too precious to admit of
any delay. Only one fish was got, and that was a dead one, which had
been left on the bank: it was similar to a trout. Not more than half
a dozen live fish were seen, and none could be caught either with
hooks or nets. Leaving a very small party near Weddell Bluff to look
for guanacoes, I hastened on board with the boats; and with the ebb
tide reached the Beagle before noon on the 8th. The ship being ready
for sea, excepting a ton or two of fresh water, the yawl and cutter
were dispatched to get it and bring on board the shooting party.
During my absence satisfactory observations on the tides had been
made, which showed that the neap tides rise about eighteen feet, and
the springs from thirty-eight to forty-two feet. One day when walking
through a woody ravine, not far from the anchorage, Mr. Stewart saw
a puma lying under a bush, glaring at him: taking a steady aim, he
fired, and laid the animal dead. It was a very large one; and the
skin is now in the British Museum. The moment of thus looking a lion
in the face, while taking aim, at only a few yards distance, must be
somewhat trying to the nerves, I should imagine. A beautiful wild cat
was also added to our collections, besides condors and foxes.
9th. The boats, and shooting party, arrived with water and two
guanacoes. As the sportsmen were returning with their burthens on
the preceding evening, darkness overtook them while yet distant from
their tent; and they were soon made uncomfortably[27] conscious that
an enemy was at hand, for the strong and peculiar smell of a lion
warned them that one was near. They trudged on with their cargoes,
talking to one another; but the scent was still strong until they
approached the fire, which had been kept up by their companion, when
it ceased entirely. Such a weight as a lion’s, added suddenly to that
of a guanaco, would have been rather distressing.
We were detained for a day or two by an overcast sky, which prevented
my obtaining equal altitudes; but on the 12th the Beagle left the
Santa Cruz, and stood towards the alleged place of the shoal, or
rock, called ‘Aigle,’ not far from the westernmost of the Falkland
Islands. No such danger, nor any sign of shallow water being found,
but, on the contrary, no bottom with one hundred fathoms of line, we
steered towards Magalhaens Strait, and on the 18th anchored off Cape
Virgins. Next morning I landed on the Cape, taking Mr. Darwin and Mr.
Stokes with me, and remained till after the noon observation, when,
returning on board, the Beagle weighed and sailed to another station.
From this time (till the 25th) we were busily employed in sounding
in the neighbourhood of Cape Virgins, Point Catherine, Lomas Bay, and
Possession Bay.
On the 23d, at day-light, we saw the Adventure coming from the
Falklands. After communicating with us, she went on to survey
the portion of coast extending from Sweepstakes Foreland to Cape
Monmouth; and we remained to complete our own task of sounding the
banks about the First Narrow, and examining the south shore of St.
Philip Bay. On the 3d of June both vessels were moored in Port
Famine, preparing for their passage to San Carlos in Chilóe.
* * * * *
The next chapter will take the Beagle into the Pacific by a
route not hitherto used, except by sealing vessels: although it
possesses many advantages over either the passage round Cape
Horn, or that through the western reaches of the Strait of
Magalhaens. Mr. Low is said to be the first discoverer of it, and
he certainly was the first to pass through in a ship; but I think
one of the Saxe Cobourg’s boats had passed through it previously,
and I much question whether Sir Francis Drake’s shallop did not
go by that opening into the Strait of Magalhaens in 1578.[28]
Before I finally leave Tierra del Fuego, a remark or two may here
be made respecting the language of the natives. ‘Pichi,’ in the
Huilli-che or Araucanian language, means ‘small’ or ‘a little,’
and ‘re’ signifies ‘only,’ ‘but,’ ‘purely,’ or ‘simply.’ Hence,
Pecheray, always uttered in a begging, or whining tone, may have
some such signification. In Beauchesne’s voyage it is said, that
the natives in the Eastern parts of Magalhaens Strait were called
‘Laguedi-che,’ and those westward, ‘Haveguedi-che.’[29] These
words are to me very interesting, because I suppose the first to
be a corruption of Laque-che, which means, in Araucanian, ‘People
with balls’ (bolas), and the second is not far removed from
Huapi-gulu-che, which means ‘people of mountainous islands heaped
together,’ terms respectively most appropriate for natives of
eastern and western Tierra del Fuego.
[Illustration:
C. Martens. T. Landseer.
MOUNT SARMIENTO.
(FROM WARP BAY)
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A kind of elder, growing here and there in Patagonia and the
Pampas. See page 93.
[2] Salt depositions or incrustations.
[3] Named after the enterprizing southern navigator.
[4] On the south side of the north-west arm of the Santa Cruz.
[5] The northern bight, or cove, a few miles north-eastward of Islet
Reach.
[6] It was his office to make a map of the country we passed through.
[7] Pull, or tow them along by a rope.
[8] Mr. Stokes alone being excepted, as his duty required continual
attention.
[9] Marked ‘Indian Pass’ on the plan.
[10] Floats or rafts.
[11] “Me envió tres indios nadadores, provisto de cueros y palos para
formar una pelota.” (Diario de Viedma, p. 58.)
[12] A guanaco was shot this day by the running fire of several guns.
He was soon cut up and stowed in the boats.
[13] The temperature of the air being 30°, that of the water 46°.
[14] ‘Basalt Glen.’
[15] “Leonum arida nutrix.”
[16] My steward.
[17] A carrion-eating eagle.
[18] The animal thus eaten lay on high ground: the other was in a
hollow.
[19] From ten to twelve hundred feet.
[20] Excepting guanacoes.
[21] Called Capar, or Viedma. MS. Chart.
[22] As one proof of this assertion, I may quote a passage from
Viedma:--“Reconocido pues todo” (all that there was to see in the
neighbourhood of the lake whence the Santa Cruz flowed), “nos expusó
el Indio Patricio nos debiamos apartar luego de aquí, porque con
los vientos fuertes, y el sol, solia derretirse tanta nieve que era
imposible vadear los arroyos para regresar, y tendriamos que pasar el
verano en aquel pasage hasta que las heladas empezasen.”--(Diario de
Viedma, p. 57.)
[23] Following the course of the river.
[24] The data will be found in the Appendix.
[25] At the level of the sea.
[26] Though the wild cat could not injure a full-grown animal, it
might destroy a young one with great ease.
[27] Being only two in number.
[28] See Burney, vol. i. p. 368 and p. 327, where he shows that Drake
discovered Cape Horn, and anchored near it (in or near St. Martin
Cove?) in 1578. Another early southern discovery is mentioned in vol.
ii. p. 198, where it is stated that Dirck Gherritz discovered land in
64°. S. in 1599, (part of or near South Shetland?)
[29] Voyage of Beauchesne, in Burney’s History, vol. iv. p. 378.