Challenger sails--Sounds off Mocha--Wrecked on the mainland--Crew
saved--Stores landed--Camp formed--Great exertions, and excellent
conduct--Mr. Consul Rouse--Leübu--Plague of mice--Curious rats
--Return to Blonde--Ulpu--Araucanian dress--Arauco--‘Boroanos’
--Tubul--Bar rivers--Apples--Ferry--Blonde sails--Seek for the
Leübu--Schooner Carmen--Errors and delay--Embark Challenger’s crew
--Rescue the Carmen--Talcahuano--New Concepcion--Valparaiso
--Coquimbo--Challenger’s sail in Conway--Reflections.
The Challenger sailed from Rio de Janeiro on the 3d of April 1835:
she had much bad weather off Cape Horn, which lengthened her passage
considerably.
On the 18th and 19th of May, strong north-west winds, with thick
weather and heavy rain, prevented observations being taken; except
a few for time only. The ship was approaching the land, and her
position estimated by dead reckoning from the last observations.
At five P.M. on the 19th, the Challenger hove-to, bent cables,
unstowed the anchors, and sounded, but no bottom was found with two
hundred and ten fathoms of line. This sounding was taken as a matter
of form rather than utility, for no one supposed that the ship could
be less than fifty miles from a steep coast, off which soundings
extend a very little way. At this time, she was really about twelve
miles from Mocha, which bore from S.E. to S. The weather was clear
overhead, but too hazy near the horizon to see land, or any object
distant more than four or five miles. Mocha is high, bold land, which
in clear weather may be seen at thirty, forty, or even fifty miles
distance; but soundings are no guide in its neighbourhood. They are
irregular, and indeed not to be got, except very near the land.
A course was shaped for passing Santa Maria, and approaching the
entrance of Concepcion Bay; and with a strong wind from W.N.W., the
ship ran eight or nine knots an hour, under treble-reefed topsails,
courses, and jib, steering N.b.E. until eight o’clock, when it
was thought prudent to haul to the wind until daylight. By many
on board even this step was deemed unnecessary caution. Captain
Seymour proposed putting her head to the south-west till daylight;
but the master felt so confident of the ship’s place, and so much
disliked the idea of losing both time and ground, that his opinion
was preferred, and her head was kept to the northward. About nine, or
soon after that time, the Challenger was lying from N. to N. ½ E.,
going about four knots, under the sail before-mentioned. The wind
had moderated; but a thick haze surrounded the ship, though the sky
overhead was clear.
Captain Seymour had been walking the deck for some time, and had
only just gone to his cabin, when a change in the appearance[1] of
the water alongside, and an unusual motion of the ship, startled
the officer of the watch, and induced him to order the ‘helm’ down
and ‘about ship,’ while a midshipman was sent to tell the captain
there was a suspicious alteration in the water. Just then breakers
were seen by the look-out men and by the officer of the watch at the
same moment; and as the captain flew up the ladder, (the ship coming
round) he saw her position, and gave the order, ‘mainsail haul,’ as
she was rising to a heavy rolling breaker. The after-yards swung
round, but while bracing them up, she struck heavily; then ‘hauling
the head-yards,’ and bracing up, she seemed to ‘gather way’;--the
foam alongside, from the recoiling waves, probably deceiving their
eyes. A high breaking sea struck her bows--and astern upon the rocks,
a helpless wreck, the proud Challenger was dashed.[2] Again, a great
roller approached, threatening to overwhelm her; but it broke short,
and only drenched her fore and aft with force sufficient to wash
men overboard. While bracing-up, the topmen had been ordered aloft
to shake the reefs out, and readily they went, without a moment’s
hesitation. They were, however, quickly recalled--a few moments
sufficing to show that saving lives was all that could be attempted.
Each succeeding sea drove the ship’s stern higher than the bow[3]
upon the shore, and along shore withal, inside some rocks, which
partly deadened the fury of the great south-west swell, that rolls in
directly against this part of the coast. That the sea did not break
at first upon the hull of the vessel, and drive every thing before
it, is accounted for by her position--with the bow to seaward--and by
the defence afforded by a large rock near her bow which received the
first shock of each wave.
Heavily the ship continued to beat upon the shore, reeling from side
to side as seas struck her, yet her masts, though tottering at every
shock, did not fall; nor did her strong hull yield to the continual
striking, until hours had passed. Then, indeed, the rising of the
tanks and contents of the hold showed that her frame had given way,
and that the well-built Challenger would never float again. There
was scarcely any wind; but the roar of the breakers and the clouds
of spray would have almost stupified the crew, had not life been at
stake. No land could be discerned till after the moon had risen--no
one could even conjecture where the ship had struck, excepting only
the master, who thought they must be on the Dormido shoal, off the
island of Santa Maria. The purser collected the ship’s papers, and
saw them headed up in a water-tight cask: each person endeavoured to
secure some valuable:--till daylight came further preparation would
have availed nothing.
The captain was asked to cut away the masts; but he refused to let
more than the mizen-mast be touched, because their weight, after the
first few seas, steadied the ship, as she lay over, and prevented her
rolling to seaward with the recoiling waves. When she first struck,
he was asked to let go the anchors; another request which he wisely
refused, rightly judging that having struck, anchoring could not
improve their condition, but might prevent their drifting past the
rocks and nearer to the shore; both anchors, however, were kept in
readiness, in case the water astern should deepen, which might have
happened had they struck upon an isolated shoal, like the Dormido.
Soon after the moon rose, at about two in the morning, land was
seen astern of the ship, not far distant. It seemed to be rather
extensive, though not high; and as there was no longer any doubt of
their having struck upon the mainland, better hopes of saving life
relieved the torturing, anxious suspense they had hitherto endured.
Daylight shewed them the shore on which they were. Near the ship
lay an extensive sandy beach, and beyond it, gradually rising in
the interior, a thickly wooded country appeared to reach to distant
mountains. The mizen-mast was then used to form part of a raft;
the jolly-boat was lowered over the stern; and in her Mr. A. Booth
(mate), after a long struggle, reached the shore, with the end of
the deep-sea lead-line. Mr. Gordon (midshipman), next tried to land
in another boat, to assist in hauling a rope ashore, but the boat
was upset, rolled over and over, and Mr. Gordon and one of the men
were drowned. The other man was saved. Mr. Gordon was one of the most
active and able young men of his age, and very much esteemed by all
his shipmates.[4] His fellow-sufferer, John Edwards, was one of the
best men in the ship.
A stream of tide or current, setting two or three knots an hour,
along the shore, much increased the difficulty of reaching it, or of
assisting those who were making the perilous attempt. Meanwhile, each
succeeding heave of the sea forced the ship higher upon the sandy
beach, and rendered the situation of those on board less critical.
The men who reached the land safely, hauled stouter ropes ashore
with a line; rafts were then made; the large boats got overboard;
the sick landed, and a party was sent ashore to protect them. A few
Indians appeared at a distance, whose approach, with numbers of their
countrymen, was a serious evil in prospect.
Before much had been done in landing stores, a great many Indians
and some creole natives had assembled. Nearly all came on horseback,
and many assisted in hauling the rafts ashore, or helping the people
to land. Even the Indian women rode into the furious surf, and
with their lassoes helped very materially: some took the boys up
behind their saddles, and carried them ashore; others fixed their
lassoes to the rafts. Thus instead of molesting the sufferers, these
‘uncivilized barbarians’ exerted themselves much for them. What a
lesson to the ‘wreckers’ of some other coasts, whose inhabitants are
called civilized!
But notwithstanding these friendly acts, Captain Seymour was too
prudent to put confidence in the natives. He remembered the saying,
‘Nunca, nunca fiarse à los Indios;’ and forming a small encampment
upon the beach, he barricaded it with spars, boats, casks, and other
moveables.[5] There every thing was carried when landed, and put
under care of the guard. All this day was anxiously occupied in
landing stores and provisions. A small party remained on board; but
the rest were on shore, during the night of the 20th.[6] Throughout
the following days, some of the officers and all the men who were not
on guard ashore, were constantly occupied in bringing provisions,
ammunition, and stores from the wreck. Heavy and laborious as this
duty proved, it was persevered in until every transportable article
of value was removed. Two boat carronades were mounted on shore,
which, with small arms and the barricade above mentioned, would have
kept off a considerable force of Indians.
On the 21st, Lieutenant Collins and Mr. Lane (assistant-surgeon)
set out to go to Concepcion: whence, directly after they arrived,
Mr. Rouse set out, with horses and mules, taking such few useful
things as he could carry, among which were two small tents, that had
belonged to the Beagle, and were lent to Mr. Rouse, when his own
house was shaken down by the destructive earthquake of February.
Wherever Mr. Rouse went he carried with him the thorough good-will
and high respect of the inhabitants of the province of Concepcion--a
feeling inestimably valuable at such a time, and totally different
from the mere outward formal civility shown to him as the British
consul! This feeling forwarded him on his journey, induced others
to assist in earnest, and afterwards enabled him to procure a large
supply of fresh provisions for the shipwrecked crew.
From Concepcion Lieutenant Collins went to Talcahuano, to hire
a vessel. Only one fit for such a purpose was in the port, the
Carmen, an American schooner, but her owner asked a price so utterly
unreasonable, that the Lieutenant refused to engage with him, and
returned to the wreck.
After Lieutenant Collins was despatched to Concepcion, Captain
Seymour and the master went to examine the mouth of the river Leübu,
about eighteen miles to the N.N.W. of Point Molguilla, where the
ship struck. They found that boats might enter and leave the river
with most winds; that there was no bar at the entrance; and that
under Tucapel Heights[7] there was a spot very suitable for their
encampment, until some means of embarkation should offer. Travelling
overland so great a distance as to Concepcion, in such a country,
would have been almost impracticable, except as a last resource; for
it must have involved the total loss of every thing which they could
not carry on their backs, and rendered useless the many days hard
labour, in a raging surf, by which so much had been landed. It was
therefore resolved, that as soon as all valuable stores which could
be removed were landed, measures should be taken for shifting their
camp to the Leübu.[8]
When the consul arrived his advice strengthened the opinion of
Captain Seymour, and their immediate removal was decided upon.
Though the Indians as yet had been inoffensive, Mr. Rouse had heard
as he came of a large body who were approaching from the interior,
and whose intentions he suspected to be hostile. The tribe then
about Molguilla was that of an Indian cacique, in alliance with the
Chilians, and therefore inclined to be civil, while the plunder was
not very tempting, and while all the party were well armed and on the
alert.
A few days after the ship was wrecked, this cacique gave a fine
young heifer to Captain Seymour, who thanked him for his present,
and expressed regret that any thing he could offer in return must be
very trifling; when he was startled by a violent exclamation from the
chieftain, who indignantly refused to accept any thing from men in
distress. He would not take the paring of a nail from them, (biting
his thumb-nail angrily as he spoke).
By Mr. Rouse’s exertions and assistance, as interpreter and adviser,
several yoke of oxen were procured, as well as many horses, mules,
and donkeys; but even with such unhoped-for help, the removal of
the heavy stores which had been saved was a tedious and difficult
undertaking. Once established, however, at Leübu, they felt
comparatively secure: tents were made out of sails; a palisade was
fixed and a ditch dug: but the guns, spars, anchors, cables, and
large boats, were left on the beach, as they were too heavy for
removal overland; and to transport them by sea, from such an exposed
coast, was out of the question.
Leaving their good ship a wreck upon the shore, in the hands of those
who would soon destroy her, to get at the copper and iron, was to
all a melancholy sensation. But the feelings of her captain at that
moment--how little those who obeyed orders had to feel, compared with
him who gave them!
On the 8th of June the wreck was abandoned: and the whole party were
encamped at Leübu. Time passed away but no tidings of assistance
arrived. Sickness began its insidious attacks: for cold wet weather
had succeeded to a duration of fine dry days unusual at that time of
year. Some of their essential articles of provision were exhausted:
inactivity and uncertainty were depressing the minds of all, and
Captain Seymour had begun to concert measures for abandoning the
ships’ stores, which had been so painfully saved, and travelling
overland to Concepcion, when the letters from Commodore Mason were
given to him. It ought not to be forgotten that Mr. Rouse decided to
remain with Captain Seymour, and share his fate, whatever plan he
might adopt.
Among evils of magnitude trifling vexations are little noticed;
an absolute plague of mice caused amusing occupation, rather than
annoyance. The ground, the tents, their beds, everything and every
place was infested by mice: nothing was safe from their teeth;
provisions were hung up, and people were obliged to watch them.
Hundreds were killed every hour, for they literally swarmed over
all that part of the country, and curiously enough the old people
attributed their appearance to the earthquake! Besides these mice,
which had feet like those of a lizard, enabling them to climb in all
directions, even along the smallest line or branch of a tree, there
were animals that they called rats, about the encampment at Leübu,
which deserve mention, not on account of their numbers (as there were
comparatively few) but because they were formed like opossums, having
a pouch to contain their young for some time after birth.
Early the next morning (24th) I went up with Captain Seymour to the
heights of Tucapel, which overlook the river and command an extensive
view of the sea. Flag-staffs had been erected there, and large piles
of wood collected, in order that flags might be kept flying by day,
and fires burning at night. The little camp below presented a regular
and very respectable appearance: fourteen or fifteen tents, pitched
in regular order, and surrounded by a palisade with a ditch, would
have caused even a large body of Indians to hesitate before they
attacked it. I was much struck by the strength of the position, and
the ease with which it might be defended by a small force against
numbers, and still maintain communication with the sea. There was
formerly a small settlement there, called a town, though in truth
only a very small village: but latterly, the river Leübu has scarcely
been noticed, except as the last retreat of the pirate Benavides.
Nevertheless it is a situation admirably adapted for a commercial as
well as agricultural settlement.
Though bread and other things were deficient, the shipwrecked party
never knew the want of water, and they had always an abundant
supply of a very fine kind of potato, which perhaps is hardly to
be surpassed in size or quality by any in the world. Not one of
the officers of the Challenger had seen its equal, and I never
recollect eating any that were so good, and at the same time so
large.[9] Neither beef nor mutton were scarce, in consequence of the
‘credit’ obtained by Mr. Rouse. Money was soon exhausted, but the
high character of the consul was known all over the country, and the
natives trusted implicitly to his word.
The report of a ‘wreck’ had quickly drawn numerous plunderers,
even from Concepcion and Talcahuano: but those pilferers satisfied
themselves secretly, I believe, without attempting any daring
robbery. During the confusion of the first day no doubt much was
stolen by Indians, and hidden in the neighbourhood: since many
articles were sold to the Talcahuano people for spirits or tobacco,
and being taken by them to that place, occasioned a report of the
officers and crew having been stripped and plundered.
But it must not be supposed that Captain Seymour and his officers
had no internal troubles, and that strangers were their only foes.
Shameful acts of robbery were committed by some of the Challenger’s
own party: a very few of her marines scrupling not to rifle chests
and boxes belonging to officers. This conduct, in connexion with a
spirit of insubordination which began to show itself, among some of
those who knew Captain Seymour the least, occasioned his calling the
crew together on the beach, and causing one man to be corporally
punished.
On this trying occasion Captain Seymour animadverted on the
thoughtless conduct of a few who talked of what ought to be done,
as if they were on equal terms with those whose authority at such
a time was more than ever necessary; and who, in their unguarded
conversations, heeded not who was listening, or which of their
inferiors might be influenced by their opinions. He reminded them
of the treacherous and often hostile disposition of those Indians
who then surrounded them, and were daily increasing in numbers; and
made known not only his own determination to stay by the stores, at
all hazards, but that those who attempted to desert should do so at
the peril of their lives. He well knew that the majority (and that
majority included all the worthiest and best) would stand by him to
the last, and think little of difficulties or dangers incurred in
doing their duty.
After this well-timed public admonition not a word more was
heard about “abandoning the stores, and making the best of the
way to Concepcion.” Neither was there again occasion to inflict
punishment. This one act of necessary justice, executed so properly
and decidedly, was probably the means of saving much property, of
upholding character, and even of preserving many lives: for when once
anarchy begins, who can foretel all its consequences?
Anxious to return as soon as possible to tell the Commodore how
easily the Blonde might take off both people and stores, at the
mouth of the Leübu, that he might lose no time in effecting the
embarkation--I recrossed the river and was galloping towards Quiapo,
before noon (on the 24th) hoping to reach Arauco ere midnight; and,
certain of fresh horses, I and my two companions spared neither whip
nor spur. Our guide dropped behind, but as we could find the path by
our tracks of the previous day, we did not wait for him. Such ravines
(quebradas) as we passed: how we got through them during the black
darkness of the preceding night astonished me, for we could hardly
scramble along in broad daylight: and had I known the nature of those
passes, I certainly should not have tried to get through, excepting
by day.
At Quiapo we had a mixture of corn and water, which I thought
tolerably good. It is a common mess among the lower class of natives
in many countries besides Chile.[10] A few handfuls of roasted corn,
roughly pounded between two stones, were put into a cow’s horn, half
full of cold water, and well stirred about with a stick until changed
into a substantial mess of cold porridge. Our haste shortened the
journey, and we should have reached Arauco in good time, had not a
second guide (the man who waited at Quiapo with the Arauco horses)
mistaken the road, and taken us along a track which was crossed by
two rivers, not then fordable. His error was not discovered until
too late, and to pass the rivers we were obliged to make a delay of
several hours. The tract of country we traversed this day, was as
fine as any that I have attempted to describe. I do not think we rode
over or even saw an acre of unproductive land. The woody districts
were very pleasing to the eye, and as specimens of a rich and fertile
country almost in a state of nature, equally so to the mind. In
many places our road lay through an open forest, where fine trees
stood at considerable distances apart, and not being surrounded by
underwood allowed us to gallop between them as we pleased. I thought
of England’s forests in the ‘olden time.’
In one of the quiet woodland glades we passed through, some of the
finest cattle I ever saw were grazing. One immense animal would have
attracted admiration, even by the side of show-cattle in England.
Very large, well-shaped, and extremely fat, he looked and moved as if
few things had ever caused him to turn against his will. These cattle
have owners, I was told, but are seldom molested: once perhaps in
some years a large number may be killed for the sake of their hides
and tallow; and even then so extensive and so little known are these
woods, that a considerable proportion of the cattle are not seen by
their indolent destroyers, nor yet at the almost nominal musters
which take place annually. The soil being usually of a tenacious,
clayey nature, and streams of water numerous, moisture sufficient
for vegetation is ensured, even at the dryest periods. Indeed, these
countries never have suffered from drought; their climate being a
happy mean between the dry, parching heat of Northern Chile, or Peru,
and the continual wet, wind, and chilliness of Chilóe.
The first river we had to cross was not more than fifty feet wide,
but the banks were hollow and rotten. Our guide looked along the
stream till he found a tree which had fallen across, so as to form
a bridge over two-thirds of the width: and with a pole in his hand,
he climbed as far as the boughs would bear him: then finding that
the water beneath was not above his middle, he waded through the
remainder. Unsaddling, we sent all the gear across by help of the
tree and lassoes, and turned the horses over, much against their
will, for they had to plunge in and scramble out.
Again using our spurs, we hoped to pass the second river also
before dark, but in vain; there was only just daylight enough left
to see that it had overflowed its banks, and seemed to be wide and
rapid. Even Vogelborg thought it impossible to cross before the
next morning, so we turned back to look for some hut in which we
might obtain shelter from heavy rain, which was beginning to pour
down. The night was very dark and our prospect rather comfortless,
when we were fortunate enough to find a ‘rancho,’ and there we
gladly took refuge. Its owners were absent at a merry-making in the
‘neighbourhood’ (about twenty miles off!); their daughters, however,
and an Indian captive (from Boroa) were not deficient in hospitality.
Poor girls! they were rather frightened at first, at their house
being so suddenly occupied, but our guide quieted their alarm. As
soon as the horses were provided for, we looked about for food
for ourselves, and could find nothing but potatoes, till, hearing
Vogelborg call for help in his broken English, I ran to him thinking
he was hurt or attacked. He was struggling with a sheep which he had
caught, and was dragging to the hut. Greatly were the poor girls
alarmed when they saw that the sheep was to be sacrificed; they
exclaimed that their father would beat them terribly, that the sheep
was worth eight rials![11] A dollar for the sheep, and another for
each of themselves, altered their tone; and before long we had such
a fire and supper as the old ‘rancho’ had not witnessed since the
wedding-day of its owners.
But what a night of penance we passed--the place swarmed with fleas,
not one moment could I rest, though very tired; and it was raining
too hard, and was too cold to sleep outside in the open air. These
insects are the torment of travellers in Chile. The natives appear
either not to feel, or not to be attacked by them, but an unlucky
stranger who ventures to sleep within the walls of an inferior kind
of house, or even any country house, in Chile, is sure to be their
victim. When I stripped to bathe the next day, I found myself so
covered, from head to foot, with flea-bites, that I seemed to have a
violent rash, or the scarlet fever.
As the day broke (on the 25th) we mounted our horses, eager to get
away from such unceasing tormentors: and the Indian girl undertook
to show us a place where we might pass the river, even flooded as it
was. By the help of fallen trees, lassoes, and poles, we conveyed
ourselves and the saddles across; but to get the horses over was very
difficult. The stream being rather wide and rapid, and the banks
steep and rotten, occasioned so much difficulty, that two whole hours
were spent in getting the animals across and out of the river. Our
united strength applied to good lassoes, was barely sufficient to
help the struggling and frightened creatures up the muddy broken
banks. When one had passed, the others followed in their turns more
readily; but I thought we should have lost one of them. From this
river to Arauco was not above an hour’s ride, at the pace we went,
though it is called seven leagues.
During the last two days I had seen several Indians of pure
Araucanian blood, in their native dress, and was much struck by
the precise similarity of that worn by the women, to the dress
of the aborigines of Peru, as described and figured in Frazier’s
voyage. The square cloak, or mantle, thrown over the shoulders,
and fastened in front by a pin with a very large flat head, the
size of a dollar, or even the palm of a hand; the broad band round
the waist ornamented with beads; and the beaded or brass ornaments
in the hair, ears, and round the neck, caught my eye sooner than
their features, which are so similar to those of the almost Indian
breed who live on the borders, that at first sight the difference
was hardly noticed. Perhaps the eye of one of those Indians who has
never lived with civilized people, is the only feature which differs
strikingly: so much have the lower classes of Chilian creoles mixed
with the aborigines. In the eye of a free, wandering Indian, there
is a restless suspiciousness, which reminds one of the eye of a wild
animal: but this peculiar expression is soon removed by civilization.
The clothing of the Araucanians, made by themselves, is very strong
good cloth. Indian ponchoes will keep out rain longer than any
others. Dark blue is the usual colour of their clothes, from ponchoes
to petticoats; and they are all of woollen manufacture.
The women dress their hair with some pains, and ornament it with
beads, bits of brass, or large-headed pins, such as those I have
described. Some few have ornaments of gold: and to see an Indian
woman dressed in her national costume, with large golden ornaments,
quite transports the imagination to the days of Cortes and Pizarro. I
saw but one so ornamented, a fine-looking young woman, the daughter
of a cacique, who had accompanied some of her tribe to look at the
shipwrecked white men. Her horse was a beautiful animal, looking as
wild as herself.
At Arauco the worthy colonel welcomed me to breakfast, but regretted
that I had been prevented from proceeding to the wreck: he thought
some accident had happened, and hardly could believe that we had
actually passed a night at the Leübu. D. Geronimo told me he had
received intelligence of a large body of Indians, about three
thousand strong, who were marching northward against Colipi, and his
allies, the Chilians. He thought it probable that they would molest
the Challenger’s people, for the sake of plunder as well as because
they had been on friendly terms with Colipi.
This hostile tribe, whose visit he was anticipating, was that called
‘Boroanos,’ by the Chilians (‘Boroa-che,’ by the Indians). I have
before said that in Boroa there are fair Indians; and that I saw,
when at Valdivia, one of the natives of that district. The Indian
girl, whom I mentioned just now as a captive, agreed exactly in what
she stated of them, with the account I had previously heard. She and
the ‘Boroana’ at Valdivia both said, that “their fathers had told
them that the ‘rubios’ (meaning red and white, or red-haired people)
were children of the women whom their ancestors took prisoners when
they destroyed the seven cities.” Many of these ‘rubios’ had blue
eyes, with rather fair complexions; and some few had red hair. If
this is the true story, they must be gradually losing such striking
peculiarities; and the assertion made a century ago that there were
white Indians in Araucania, might well be thought erroneous now.
Both of the ‘Boroanos’ whom I saw had dark blue or grey eyes, and
a lighter complexion than other Indians; but their features were
similar to those of their countrywomen, and they had long black hair.
In our way to Arauco this morning, we passed by Tubul, a place
admirably adapted for a large town, but now occupied only by a few
poor families living in huts. Hills surround a fine plain, through
which the river Tubul winds to the sea: lying in that river, I saw
the remains of a whaler (the Hersilia) captured by Benavides, when at
anchor near the island of Santa Maria.[12] She was brought into the
Tubul, plundered, and partly burned.
Some years ago, ships of two hundred tons could enter the mouth of
this river, and pass up nearly a mile; but the late earthquake had
raised the land so much, that only very small vessels could enter at
this time. May not changes of relative level, similar to this, have
occurred at the rivers Cauten, Tolten, and Bueno? The Cauten, or
Imperial, is spoken of by the earlier writers on Chile, as admitting
ships of burthen; but now the entrance of each of those rivers is
almost closed by a bar.
In opposition to this idea it may be urged, that where a large river
runs into the sea exactly against the direction of the prevailing
wind and swell, a bar of sand, shingle, and mud must be formed by
deposition from the opposing waters; and that it is only where a
river runs uninterruptedly into the sea, protected from wind and
swell by a projecting islet or point of land, that a perfectly clear
entrance may be expected; and, therefore, that the Spanish accounts
must have been incorrect. I suspect that they described those rivers
as they found them at some distance inland, not at the mouth.
Leaving the hospitable colonel assembling a remarkably awkward
squad, whom he was anxiously preparing for the threatened attack of
the ‘Boroanos,’ we rode away upon the good horses which, three days
previously, had brought us from Concepcion.
At the Carampangue there was no balsa. What was to be done? To wait
until some one brought a boat from the opposite shore might expend
the day; but the river was wide and deep, and the weather too cold
for so long a swim: nevertheless, five dollars excited our guide, or
rather horse-keeper, to make the trial, and during several minutes I
thought he must have been drowned: for, instead of slipping off the
horse, and holding by the mane or tail when he began to swim, the man
sat bolt upright, so that the poor horse’s head was scarcely visible;
and both horse and man appeared to get confused, turning round in
the stream two or three times, while the current was carrying them
down the river. At last they struggled out, to my infinite joy, and
galloped off in search of the men whose business it was to attend
at the ferry with a balsa. While we were anxiously waiting, a large
party appeared on the opposite bank, with whom were the balsa-men.
They had been merry-making, the previous day having been the feast
of St. John; and as they had hardly recovered from the effects of
‘chicha,’ and other favourite libations, to carry so large a number
across upon a small raft, was a difficult undertaking. Talking
at the pitch of their voices, laughing and tumbling about, their
reaching the opposite shore without a cold-bath, was attributed by
Vogelborg to the protection of the saint whose anniversary they had
so dutifully celebrated. The ‘chicha,’[13] is sometimes fermented,
and then soon affects a person’s head, if drank to excess: but these
votaries of St. John had doubtless improved its insipid taste by
aguardiente. During the chicha season, or autumn, the Indians are
said to be more dangerous than at other times, as they indulge in
this, their favourite beverage, to excess.
Apple trees are now abundant in southern Chile, throughout the Indian
as well as Spanish territories. They were also plentiful on the
eastern side of the Andes, particularly about the river Negro and the
great lake ‘Nahuelhuapi,’ in the middle of the last century. Whether
they are indigenous, or were planted by the early missionaries, has
been much disputed in that country; but as the Indian name for them
is ‘manchana,’[14] I should incline to think they were introduced by
the first missionaries.
Our road over the heights of Villagran was much worse than at our
former passage. Heavy rain and constant traffic, in consequence of
the wreck, had worn it into a curious succession of steps: and each
animal endeavouring to place his feet in the holes made by those
which had previously passed--the rain having filled up the hollows
with mud and water--had worked the clayey track into a continuation
of transverse ridges and trenches. A man might step from ridge
to ridge without wetting his feet; but the horses always planted
their legs, up to the knees and hocks, in the mud and water of the
trenches. Their motion was just as if they were stepping over logs
of timber: unpleasant enough for the rider, and extremely tiring
to themselves. We helped them however as much as possible, to the
surprise of our lazy guide, by dismounting and leading them up the
hills as well as down.
We reached ‘Playa Blanca’ as it got dusk. The heights near Point
Coronel were difficult, in the dark, but we passed without worse
disaster than a roll in the mud, from my girths breaking while
struggling in a slough. Along the level lands of Don Juan de Dios
Rivera we galloped briskly, until we were completely bewildered in
the darkness. At last we found ourselves among enclosures, and by
pulling up rails and breaking fences, made our way to a farm-house,
where such information was obtained as enabled us to reach San Pedro,
on the south bank of the Bio Bio, soon after midnight. No inducement
could prevail upon the owner of the ferry-boat to let her take us
across before daylight, so we sat down by a fire, after feeding our
excellent horses, and dozed till daybreak.
With the first dawn we drove the lazy boatmen to their barge, urging
them alternately with money, entreaties, reproaches, and threats.
The river was exceedingly swollen by late heavy rains, so that it
was almost twice as wide, and quite as rapid, as usual. Our heavy
ferry-boat was ‘tracked’ up it until it seemed possible for us to
reach the other bank before the current swept us out to sea; but the
appearance of the boat and men, and the utter uncertainty caused by
a very thick fog, gave me no great hopes of reaching Concepcion in
any reasonable time, though a vivid expectation of passing a few
hours upon a sand-bank at the mouth of the river, if we escaped being
hurried into the open sea. In this clumsily-built, flat-bottomed boat
(a sort of large punt) were five horses, a troublesome young bull,
six men, and three nominal boatmen, one of whom merely attempted
to steer. With very long poles our unwieldy craft was pushed into
the stream, and while the shore could be distinguished through the
fog, made progress in a proper direction, though most crab-like was
the movement. When fairly out of sight of land, the boatmen became
alarmed and puzzled; but just then a large bell was heard tolling at
Concepcion, which served to animate them, and to ensure our trying to
go in the right direction. After an hour’s unpleasant work, in a very
cold morning, we landed about a mile below Concepcion, having started
about as much above it on the opposite side. No time was then lost
in galloping to Talcahuano, and going on board the Blonde, so that
Captain Seymour’s letter was delivered to Commodore Mason soon after
ten.
I found that the commodore had engaged an American schooner[15] to
go in search of the crew of the Challenger; and that Mr. Usborne
had been sent in her, with the second master of the Blonde,[16]
three seamen of that ship, my coxswain, and the whale-boat which I
took from the Beagle; she was a poor craft, and wretchedly found,
though reputed to have sailed well, and to have been a fine vessel
in her time. They left Talcahuano on the day after a gale from the
north-west (on the 24th), which, by all accounts, was one of the
severest that had been experienced during many years.
The Blonde sailed from Concepcion Bay on the 27th, the morning after
I arrived; but unfortunately, during all that day, thick weather and
half a gale of wind from the northward, prevented our having even one
glimpse of the land, as we were running towards the entrance of the
Leübu.
On the 28th, thick weather kept us in the offing. On the 29th, at
daylight, the schooner Carmen was seen, and soon afterwards, through
the haze, we made out Tucapel Head. At this time, neither Vogelborg
(who was on board as local pilot) nor I, knew that the Heights of
Tucapel Viejo were identical with the headland we recognized by the
name of Tucapel Head. We both thought that Tucapel Viejo was in the
bay where the river ‘Lebo’ is placed in the old Spanish charts. This
error appears almost unaccountable to me now; though both he and I
were then drawn into it by a variety of reasons unnecessary to detail
here, and we therefore advised the commodore to run along-shore
towards the supposed place of the Leübu (or Lebo), which he did; but
the weather was so unfavourable, so thick and hazy, that nothing
could be seen distinctly. Scarcely indeed could we discern the line
of the surf, heavily as it was beating upon the shore; and at noon we
were obliged to haul off, on account of wind and rain.
I should have mentioned that we spoke the schooner at eight in the
morning, when Mr. Usborne said they had seen nothing in their run
along-shore on the 26th, the only clear day they had had. After
speaking us, he kept to the northward, intending, as we concluded,
to close the land about Tucapel Head, and again run along-shore to
the southward. In the haze we quickly lost sight of the schooner;
but thinking that we should soon meet again in clearer weather,
little notice was taken of this circumstance, which was afterwards so
much regretted. Continual thick weather prevented any observations
being taken, as well as the land from being seen, until the 2d of
July, when Tucapel Head was indistinctly made out in the distance.
But strong wind and a high swell were reasons sufficient to keep
the Blonde far in the offing, while thick hazy weather lasted; and
after making the land we actually stood to sea again, without even
attempting to show the ship to the poor fellows on shore. In the
course of this night a few stars were seen; and their altitudes were
the only observations that could have been obtained at any moment
since we left Concepcion Bay, during six days of constantly clouded
and hazy weather, in which neither sun, moon, nor stars, nor even the
horizon could be seen!
On the 3d, Tucapel Head was again made out indistinctly; but nothing
was done, a wide offing being still preserved.
On the 4th, the weather had improved enough to allow of a partial
view of the coast between the supposed place of the Leübu and Cape
Tirua; but no signal-fire, nor any thing like a flag, could be
perceived on any of the heights.
Land appears so different when viewed from an offing at sea and
when seen closely, especially from the land side, that it is less
surprising that Vogelborg, who had visited the Leübu dozens of times
by land, and also by sea in a boat, should be as much at a loss
as myself to recognise the height which we had both ascended with
Captain Seymour.
How it happened that I, who had surveyed this coast, should be
ignorant of the real place of the Leübu, as I then certainly was, is
another affair entirely, and one which I feel bound to explain. A
momentary reference to my instructions shows that the Beagle was only
expected to “correct the outline, and to fix the positions of all the
salient points”[17] of the coast between Chilóe and Topocalma (near
Valparaiso); and the Beagle’s charts of that coast prove that a great
deal more was accomplished than was thought practicable when those
instructions were framed.
Between Cape Tirua opposite Mocha, and Tucapel Head, the shore was
laid down on our chart as determined by triangulation connected with
the ship under sail, her distance from the land varying from one mile
to five miles; and as no river was seen thereabouts, nor any break in
the coast-line where a river’s mouth could be, our chart contained
merely a note, saying, “River Lebo, according to the Spanish chart.”
Now, the erroneous place of this Lebo (meant for Leübu) was twenty
miles south of the real position, which, shut in behind Tucapel Head,
could never have been seen from any vessel sailing past, however near
the shore she might have been. The coast-line in the Beagle’s chart
was proved to be perfectly correct; but the place of the Leübu, which
could only have been obtained by landing, or having a local pilot on
board, was not known; and not being a navigable river, I did not deem
it of sufficient consequence to be worth our delaying on an exposed
coast, without an anchorage or a landing-place--so far as I then
knew--while it was sought for.
Considering the multiplicity of places the Beagle had to visit
subsequently, I often found it necessary to sacrifice such details
as seemed to me of least consequence. Every seaman knows how very
difficult it is to make out the openings of some small rivers, while
he is sailing along a coast little known, and all marine surveyors
know that there is seldom any way of making sure of such openings
without landing; or entering them in a boat. I do not say this to
excuse neglect--not feeling culpable--but simply to explain how the
case stood.
On each day, when near the land, guns were fired at intervals, and
sometimes three or four were fired at once; blue lights also were
occasionally burned during the nights, in hopes that the schooner
might see them.
On the 5th of July, the day broke clearly for the first time during
the longest week I ever passed, and we saw the land distinctly, from
Cape Rumena to Tirua, with Mocha Island, strange to say, for the
first time--near it as we had often been. Now that the tops of the
hills were quite free from fog or cloud, I recognised the Heights of
Tucapel at the first glance; and after looking for some minutes at
their summits, through a good glass, I distinctly saw smoke rising.
Standing towards them--in half an hour flags were discerned on the
heights, and there was no longer any doubt; yet no steps were taken
until near one o’clock, though it was a beautiful, and almost calm
day. From nine in the morning until one, the Blonde lay almost
becalmed, about five miles from the land. At one, three boats were
sent to the mouth of the Leübu, with some money and a small supply
of bread; but a current setting along the shore from the northward
delayed their reaching the entrance of the river until evening.
We found the greater part of the Challenger’s crew still in health;
but delay and bad weather had increased the sick-list, and two of
her party (the assistant-surgeon and a young midshipman) were in
danger: waiting so long in uncertainty, and without employment, in
a wet, dirty place, had tried all their constitutions severely. It
was too late to attempt going out into the offing after the Blonde,
(which was standing to sea) with the gig and cutter, two indifferent
boats; so manning the barge with a double crew, one crew being men of
the Challenger, and taking one of her officers (Lieutenant Collins)
with me, I hastened out of the river as the sun was setting. A light
breeze from the land favoured us, and though the Blonde was hull down
in the south-west when we started, we were happy enough to get on
board at about eight o’clock.
In going off to the ship after it became dark, we kept the end of
a piece of old gun-breeching burning, held up in the bow of the
boat. The light, as strong almost as that of a false fire, was seen
plainly on board the ship, and then she was hove-to. As soon as
the barge was hoisted in, the frigate again made sail off shore;
but a fortunate mistake caused the main-yard to be squared about
midnight, and at daybreak next morning we were in a good position
off the entrance of the river. The Blonde then steered towards the
land, and at nine anchored near the River Leübu, about a mile from
Tucapel Head. Every boat was hoisted out, and the work of embarkation
proceeded rapidly. Though a swell made the ship roll heavily, and
delayed the boats alongside, the weather was so fine and a south-east
wind so favourable, that the quickness of going and returning made
amends for some delay in discharging each cargo. At six in the
evening, Captain Seymour came on board with the last party of his
crew, and at eight, the Blonde weighed and made sail, before a fresh
and favourable breeze.
Most of the tents remained standing, being of very little value, and
some of the stores were left. For what was abandoned, both there and
at Molguilla, the commodore appointed Vogelborg to be agent, leaving
him on the spot to take charge: and he wisely asked one of the
Chilians who lived in the neighbourhood, and had generally supplied
the shipwrecked crew with provisions, to join him in his undertaking.
Between them they might have recovered many things of value to
individuals, but, to the British Government, nothing worth the great
expense of carriage to Concepcion.
Mr. Rouse sent his servants back by land, with his horses and mules,
and accompanied his esteemed friend, Captain Seymour, in the Blonde.
The numerous Indians and others whom we left gathering round the
encampment, in all probability saved Vogelborg and his partner the
trouble of taking care of much of the property. They reminded me of
the vultures which in those countries gather round the places where
men are slaughtering cattle.
During the night of the 6th, the Blonde passed rapidly northward,
running before a fresh southerly breeze; and at eleven in the morning
of the 7th, she was off Point Tumbes, when seeing a dismasted
vessel, with an English blue ensign hoisted, about five miles to the
northward of us, the frigate stood towards her, and finding that
she was the schooner Carmen, closed and took her in tow. But for
the Blonde’s opportune arrival, she would have been drifted to the
northward, and obliged to run into any port she could reach. Mr.
Usborne came on board, and as soon as he had refreshed himself by a
few hours’ sleep, gave me the following account of his proceedings
and accidents.
After leaving Talcahuano, wind and weather favoured the Carmen until
she had run along the coast from Tucapel Head to Cape Tirua, at about
a mile from the surf, without seeing either smoke, flags, people,
or wreck; but, during one night, a fire was seen on Tucapel Head.
When Mr. Usborne spoke the Blonde, on the morning of the 29th, the
schooner was on her way to the place where she had seen the fire; and
he would have said so when the Blonde hailed him had he had time,
but as she passed on without stopping, and he felt sure that the
Challenger’s people were not in the direction which she was taking,
he kept a different course. At about two in the afternoon of that
day, while four seamen were aloft on the topsail-yard, furling the
topsail, the schooner gave a sudden plunge into a high swell, and
away went the foremast head, fore-topmast, and topsail-yard. The four
men were carried overboard, but saved; though one (James Bennett) was
severely bruised. The main-mast followed, being dragged downwards
and broken by the rigging attached to the head of the foremast; and
in this state, a mere wreck, the Carmen drifted towards Mocha. So
wretchedly was the vessel provided in every way, that the only tools
which they had to cut the laniards of the rigging with, were knives
and a cooper’s old adze.
After clearing the wreck, they got up a small spar abaft, on which
was set the Beagle’s boat’s sail; and by means of cleats,[18] Bennett
and J. Nutcher (boatswain’s mate of the Blonde), got to the head of
the stump of the foremast, although, being loose in the step, it
swayed to and fro as if it would go overboard, and fixed temporary
rigging. A staysail and trysail were then set, and just saved her
from going ashore upon the weather side of Mocha, while it was
blowing hard, with a high sea running; and in all probability, not
one person would have been saved had she struck. If Mr. Usborne had
not known this land well, from his late survey, it is not likely that
they would have escaped, because when they found themselves about
half a mile from the breakers, the tack which appeared to the others
to be by far the best, was in truth the worst: had they gone on that
tack, nothing could have saved them. Mr. Usborne saw their position
exactly, and knowing how the current would affect them, determined
upon what they thought the wrong tack, and rescued them. I say that
Mr. Usborne did this; because Mr. Biddlecombe was sick, and the
master of the vessel reluctantly yielded to the person who he saw was
at home, while he himself was utterly bewildered.
After this narrow escape, the schooner was drifted to the southward,
as far as the latitude of Valdivia, before the southerly wind, which
took the Blonde to the mouth of the Leübu, drove the Carmen back
slowly to the northward. Mr. Usborne and his companions had almost
entered the opening of the Bay of Concepcion early in the morning of
the day on which the Blonde took them in tow, but had been drifted
away again by a fresh wind, and were falling to leeward fast, for
want of sail, when the Blonde arrived. Mr. Usborne recovered from his
fatigue in two or three days, but Bennett was ill for a fortnight.
During the few days they were away, they suffered much. As for the
ten men belonging to the vessel, they were utterly useless, being
frightened or sick during the whole time; so that but for the
exertion of the Blonde’s seamen, of Bennett, of the master of the
vessel (Mr. Thayer), of Mr. Biddlecombe, and above all, Mr. Usborne,
the Carmen might have left her remains on the shore, when perhaps
few, if any, would have survived to tell the fatal tale.[19]
The Blonde worked to windward, with the schooner in tow, during the
remainder of the day and early part of the night, and at midnight
they both anchored off Talcahuano.
Until the 10th, it was necessary to remain at anchor, as there were
accounts to settle between the commodore, the consul, the pursers,
the officers, and the owner of the schooner; there were visits to
the Authorities, to thank them for their assistance, and, as usual
on board men-of-war, there was much to do in very little time. To
Don José Alemparte, the yntendente of the province; to Colonel Boza,
the principal military authority; to D. Miguel Bayon, the governor
of Talcahuano; and to Don Pablo Delano, captain of the port, sincere
thanks were really due for their earnest exertions. Mr. Rouse took
his leave of us on the 10th, and we then sailed.
While the Blonde was lying off Talcahuano, I had a few opportunities
of looking about, and seeing that both Concepcion and Talcahuano were
rising out of their ruins, and that their unfortunate inhabitants
had, at least, roofs over their heads. Concepcion was, and is still
nominally, a city: but it will be long before it again appears as
such to the eye of a stranger. Some idea may be formed of the low
scale to which every thing was there reduced, when I mention that
it was very difficult to find a carriage of any kind in which the
Commodore could go to visit the Yntendente.
Great discussions had arisen on the subject of rebuilding the city.
The government party wished to remove the site to a better position;
but there was so strong an opposition, that the result was likely to
be the gradual rebuilding of the town in the same place, while the
removal was still undecided, and under consideration. Two situations
were named as much more eligible than the former: one on the banks of
the little river Andalien, about a mile from the old city; and the
other, on a rising ground about two miles on the Talcahuano side of
Concepcion. This latter position has many and great advantages, as
all acknowledged; but people were reluctant to move; each one had or
fancied an advantage in the old situation of his house, encumbered
as it was with ruins. Besides, many more serious difficulties would
arise in leaving small freeholds, and obtaining equivalents in
another place: however, an active government might have accomplished
so desirable a change without injuring anyone, by purchasing the
ground, and distributing it so fairly that each man should gain
rather than lose. The sum necessary for purchasing ground for a new
city, would not have been greater than might have been borrowed; and
repaid in ten years out of the custom-house.
Perhaps there is not a situation in the world much more advantageous
to the prosperity of a commercial city than this of which we are
speaking. Centrally placed between the great and navigable river Bio
Bio, the port of San Vicente, the noble bay of Concepcion, and an
easy communication by land with the best part of Chile, a part which
may well be called one of the finest countries in the world:--with
a large extent of level and fertile land on all sides--with the
means of obtaining water by sinking wells to a small depth, as well
as by an aqueduct from the Bio Bio--and with the blessing of an
unexceptionable climate--how could the New Concepcion fail to thrive,
and increase rapidly? It might be shaken down and destroyed by an
earthquake as soon as built, may be said. Probably, may be replied,
if the inhabitants should be so unwise as to build houses of brick
and stone, one or two stories in height, and with heavily tiled
roofs. But let them try another mode of building. Wood is abundant,
and let them make that the only material of which either walls or
roofs shall be composed. A strong frame-work, similar in some measure
to that of a ship, lightly covered or ceiled with thin planks, and
roofed with shingles,[20] would, if placed on the ground and not let
into it as foundations usually are, withstand the convulsions of any
earthquake which has yet happened in that tormented country. Why do
not the Chilians pay more attention to the remark of the aborigines
of Peru, who, when they saw the Spaniards digging deep foundations
for their buildings, said, “You are building your own sepulchres?”[21]
The houses of the natives of Peru were in those days built without
foundations, simply upon the levelled ground; and they withstood the
severest shocks. No house should extend far upwards. Nothing should
be above the ground floor but a light strongly-secured wooden roof:
and they should be placed upon firm ground--if possible, upon rock.
The principal objections against the present site of Concepcion
are--that the earth upon which the houses stand is every where loose,
and sandy, and that it is too near the river.
One day, while visiting a gentleman at Talcahuano, he called three
little Araucanian boys into the room where Mr. Rouse and I were
sitting with him, and desired them to harangue or make speeches to
one another in their own way. The little fellows stepped forward
boldly, and one of them spoke to the other two in a very fluent
and expressive manner; but ended every marked sentence, or portion
of his subject, by the singular sharp rise of the voice which has
so often been noticed as a peculiarity in the oratory of Indians
in this country. Another boy replied in a similar manner; and then
they began to fight with their fists. This part of the display of
course we stopped; but we were much interested by the composure and
readiness with which the little boys spoke. One of the speakers was
son of a cacique. All three had been obtained by actual (though
secret) purchase from their countrymen, through the intervention of
one of the ‘Capitanes de los Amigos,’[22] one of whose offices is
to take the part of and protect the natives. Perhaps, in the first
instance, these boys had been stolen or taken prisoners, and were not
the children of those who sold them to the ‘captain of the friends.’
In the family of Don ---- those boys found a comfortable and a happy
home; he had taken them from the rascally ‘capitan de los amigos’ as
an act of charity, and intended to give them employment and land on
his estate. I thought of Lautaro, as I noticed the bright eye of the
little cacique.
When I took leave of the Yntendente, he said that he was about to
make a journey to the frontier, for the sake of inspecting the
outposts and securing the assistance of the friendly Indians: and
this, I afterwards understood, was in consequence of the rumoured
approach of those hostile tribes of whom Colonel Valenzuela had
spoken to me at Arauco.
We sailed from Talcahuano with a fair wind, which carried us quickly
and pleasantly along-shore; but crowded, and anxious as we were, the
ship could not go fast enough for us. The sick people, excepting
Mr. Lane, were improving when we reached Valparaiso on the 13th.
Much attention and kindness were shown to Captain Seymour by his
acquaintance at Valparaiso; but it could not be expected that he
should be cheerful, or inclined to see people, excepting intimate
friends, at that time; particularly as the death of Mr. Lane was an
additional blow much felt by him. I was very glad when we weighed
anchor, on the 17th, for every hour caused an increase of painful
feeling.
A fresh fair wind drove us in twenty-four hours to Coquimbo, where
the Conway was at anchor ready for sea. It was then arranged, that
all the officers and two-thirds of the crew should go home in the
Conway; and, of course, no small bustle of preparation for so many
passengers was caused. Captain[23] and Mrs. White already occupied
one-half of the captain’s cabin, and their luggage a considerable
space below; but as both Captain Eden and the senior lieutenant,
Johnstone, were bent upon accommodating the shipwrecked party to the
utmost of their power, stowage-room was cleverly contrived.
How striking the contrast appeared between the fertility and verdure
of the Concepcion country, and the dry barrenness of the naked earth
or rocks about Coquimbo. Scarcely any one went on shore; a mixture
of unpleasant feelings occasioned a gloomy heaviness in most of our
minds.
On the 22d, both ships sailed from Coquimbo, and soon afterwards
parted company. The Conway stood to the westward, ‘close-hauled;’
while the Blonde steered towards the north with a fresh southerly
wind.
What caused the loss of the Challenger?--is a question not easy
to answer with certainty. The error in her reckoning amounted to
more than forty miles; and the only way in which I can account for
it to my own satisfaction is, that while the north-west wind was
blowing, a current set to the southward and eastward, for which no
allowance was made, as those on board could not be aware that such a
current might be found, its existence not being known. A south-east
current was not to be expected thereabouts; for the general set of
the waters is northerly, excepting near the land, and they thought
themselves in the offing. But currents are very uncertain and
treacherous in most places. Unusual winds, peculiar seasons affecting
the weight of the atmosphere, and those powerful interrupters of all
order--earthquakes, have immediate effect upon the great ocean, as
well as upon small bodies of water, though not always so visibly.
Scarcely four months had elapsed since that tremendous earthquake,
which destroyed so many towns in Chile, had altered the movements of
the Pacific Ocean upon all the extent of coast which reaches from
latitude forty-five to the parallel of twenty-five. Even in July,
the land about Concepcion was scarcely considered to be at rest, and
recovered, as it was said, from those awful convulsions. Can it then
be considered improbable that the currents of that sea should have
taken unusual directions, and betrayed even cautious seamen, such as
Captain Seymour and Mr. Macdonald (the master) were well known to
be. So much care and judgment had always been shown in conducting
the Challenger, and she had visited so many places in the Atlantic,
in the Pacific, and among the South Sea Islands, that of all the
King’s ships at that time in commission, those who sailed in her
(unconnected even with her management) thought her one of the last
that would end a voyage disastrously.[24] The surprising manner in
which the hull of the Challenger held together, and so long resisted
heavy shocks, reflects infinite credit upon her architect (Hayes),
and upon the dock-yard where she was built.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lines of foam, and intervals of light-coloured water.
[2] When the ship was thus hove violently astern, her rudder,
stern-post, dead-wood abaft, gun-room beams, cabin-deck, and many
timbers, besides planking, crashed awfully as they broke at once
before the resistless power of an ocean swell.
[3] The peculiarity other form--drawing as much water forward as she
did abaft--may have been partly the cause of her bow remaining to
seaward, which contributed so much to the preservation of lives.
[4] He had anxiously sought to go in the first boat.
[5] The barricade was finished on the 25th.
[6] It was on this day that the Swede saw the unfortunate Challenger.
[7] Immediately over the entrance of the river.
[8] While Captain Seymour was away at the Leübu, the officers availed
themselves of the opportunity to get the greater part of his stores
and private property, books, &c. landed; for he would not allow any
of his own things to be moved, or a man to be employed about them,
while an article of the ship’s stores could be saved, though his
private property was very valuable.
[9] The officers of the Blonde were of a similar opinion, after
trying a great many that were sent on board from the Leübu.
[10] Among the Araucanian aborigines it is made with maize, and
called ulpu.
[11] Or a dollar, equal to about four shillings.
[12] Captain Hall’s Journal, vol. i. p. 312-13.
[13] ‘Chicha’ is made with maize, apples, or other things.
[14] Manzana is Spanish for apple.
[15] The Carmen; for which such exorbitant demands had been made in
answer to Lieutenant Collins.
[16] Mr. Biddlecombe.
[17] Hydrographer’s Memorandum, p. 31.
[18] To secure these cleats to the mast, they were obliged to draw
nails out of the vessel’s beams, having no others.
[19] Mr. Usborne’s narrative of this affair is in the Appendix, No.
27.
[20] Small pieces of wood, like tiles.
[21] Ulloa, vol. i. p. 340.
[22] See page 399.
[23] Then Vice-Consul at Valparaiso.
[24] This I have heard from several persons who were wrecked in the
ship, whose opinions I have reason to respect.