ARRIVAL AT OUR LANDING-PLACE.
_Nov. 14._ On awaking this morning we found the Mary Jane quietly
anchored in Gregory’s Bay, some seventy miles from the entrance of the
Strait.
Thus our voyage of just ninety days is ended, and the land for which
we sailed is before us. We look out upon a beach of white sand, upon
sand-cliffs, sand-dunes, the grassy pampas and distant snow-crowned
hills; but neither man nor beast nor human habitation is visible: all
is drear solitude.
Captain Clift, with true kindness, offered to remain for a day or two
to assist us in finding Indians, and to give us a home on board his
vessel until we could get quarters among the savages.
Accordingly we landed early in the morning upon a beautiful beach, and,
mounting a steep bank some fifty feet high, we found dry grass and a
small clump of thorny bushes resembling the barberry, with a yellow
blossom. With these we made a smoke as a signal to raise the savages.
Not succeeding, we returned before noon to the vessel, and at 1 +P.M.+
we landed again with the Captain, determined to travel back into the
country till we should find some human beings. Taking one of the Indian
trails, of which we saw many, we pursued our way over hills and vales,
often coming upon places where the savages had encamped, and which
were thickly strewn with the bones of animals consumed by them--bones
chiefly of the guanaco, a variety of the lama.
In one instance we saw two huge vertebræ of a whale’s spine, far
inland. The tracks of horses, dogs, and guanacos were visible
everywhere.
One of the latter animals we descried feeding alone in a meadow, but on
seeing us he went like an antelope over the ground, and was soon out of
sight. We saw several large fowls, among which was the thievish rook,
the curlew, and the upland goose. Several small birds also flitted
around us, cheering us with their sweet warbling.
The hills over which we passed were of a dark sandy soil, very light,
free from stones, and covered with grass. The meadows were a rich
alluvium covered with very thick grass, which grows in spontaneous
profusion.
As the old tore (dry grass) still remained in abundance, we found it
easy to raise a great smoke to arouse the savages. But on and on we
went with rapid speed, as we were all very anxious to find Indians
before night: the Captain because he wished to sail as soon as
possible, and we because we felt the importance of meeting the natives
before the Mary Jane should leave. We entered a little ravine, at the
head of which we found a rill of pure water, where we slaked our great
thirst. Soon after we found a larger stream running through a grassy
meadow.
How far we travelled we know not, but our march was rapid because we
were all urged on by our earnest desires to find inhabitants that day.
Probably we walked from seven to ten miles towards the high lands north
of us. But the descending sun and our weary limbs called for retreat;
so back we sped to the beach, where we arrived at nightfall, hungry,
thirsty, weary, and disappointed.
_Nov. 15._ Early this morning, Captain Clift in company with Mr. Arms
set out again in search of Indians, while I remained on board to attend
to some business preparatory to leaving the vessel.
After noon we descried one savage on the beach, and shortly after he
was joined by three more, all mounted on horseback and attended by more
than twenty dogs. In a little time Mr. Arms and the Captain appeared
on the bank above the beach, when a boat was sent from the schooner to
bring them on board. Three of the savages came off with them, one of
whom is a son of an aged chief whom they call _el capata le grande_,
the grand captain. The young man is of more than middling size,
firmly built, of an open countenance, and, for a savage, of modest
and pleasant manners. He can speak a few words in English and more in
Spanish. By signs and a little Spanish we signified to him that we
wished him to furnish us with two horses and be our guide to the Indian
camp among the northern hills, where we could spend the night, and
return with him to the shore in the morning.
This we were very anxious to do, that we might learn what we could
about Patagonian life before the Mary Jane leaves us. The young chief
seemed to understand and to consent to our desires. So we took him
on shore, where he selected two horses for us, and, mounting his
own, we set off on full gallop, leaving three Indians and one horse
on the shore. After riding rapidly for four or five miles, our guide
dismounted, drew out two pebbles from his skin pouch, struck fire and
kindled the dry grass around us. This soon made a dense smoke, which
was the signal for the other savages of his clan to come down.
He then waited a while, looking earnestly to the hills, but we as
earnestly beckoned him to remount his horse and ride on. He obeyed, and
we rushed over another plain, when he dismounted again, made another
great smoke, and waited again for the Indians.
We pressed him once more to go on, as night was approaching and we
feared we should not reach the lodge that day. So on we galloped, but
shortly we descried dark forms coming down the side of the mountain
from a pass among the hills, one or two miles distant. Then another
and another squad followed, while we rode on to meet them. The first
detachment came up like a whirlwind, their long, coarse black hair
streaming and their rough skin mantles flapping in the wind, while all
were shouting in savage glee. The ground shook under the rush of their
horses, and the atmosphere was clouded with dust. They surrounded us;
they yelled and grinned; they were as noisy as a flock of loons, and
as active as a swarm of bees. They talked with our guide; they tried
to talk with us; they examined and counted our garments; they opened
our vests, felt in our pockets, pulled up our trousers and thrust their
hands into our boots. This was rough courtesy and a savage reception.
Probably all this examination was to ascertain whether we had arms or
tobacco. The former would have excited suspicion; the latter aroused
their cupidity.
They were large, strong, and bold men, quite independent in their
bearing, and perfectly conscious that they were “masters of the
situation.” They were dark and filthy, ignorant and brutal in the last
degree; and yet each man was a king in his own estimation, and their
country was the greatest, the richest, and the best in the world. It
had never been conquered, and these proud men were lords who knew no
masters.
They laughed, showing splendid rows of white teeth, and in five minutes
the interview ended. Every man put spurs to his horse, and, with yells
and an uproarious shout, the whole band, of about twenty, rushed
toward the Strait, leaving a long cloud of dust behind them.
Our guide wished to turn back and go with them to the shore, but we
still urged him to proceed to the camp. This he did reluctantly, often
lingering, dismounting, and showing a desire to return. We met a few
more straggling companies of savages, and when the last came up it was
impossible to press him forward any longer. We judged ourselves to be
ten or twelve miles from the sea, with no signs of an Indian camp in
sight. So when our guide turned his horse’s head toward the shore, we
had no alternative, and we wheeled also. This was near sundown. We gave
our coursers the rein and followed our savage friends without stopping
to think, to wink, or to breathe.
At 10 +P.M.+ we were back on the beach, where we found the companies we
had met encamped in the open air for the night. We hailed our vessel,
but had no response. She was anchored more than half a mile from the
shore; her lights were extinguished, her crew asleep, and we were to
spend our first night on shore with these wild people without shelter
or supper. About forty savages were scattered around, some sleeping and
snoring, some talking in unknown gutturals, some grunting, and some
hunting small game in the hair of their dogs, of which about a hundred
were present, while the horses were tethered around with raw-hide
thongs. A small clump of thorn-bushes near the beach had supplied the
savages with a few fagots with which they had kindled a flickering
fire, which furnished just light enough to render the darkness and
the dark visages visible. Around these smoking fagots sat a number
of Indians trying to warm in the smoke and ashes a few small pieces
of dirty guanaco meat, of which they gave Mr. Arms and myself each a
morsel about the size of one’s finger. This was our supper. But we were
weary and hungry, and so without scruple, “asking no questions,” we ate
our morsels with thankfulness. This was a foretaste of Patagonian life.
The Indians also gave us a little water from a skin bottle, or bag such
as the old patriarchs used, and this was a kind of prelibation of the
blessings in store for us in this wild land.
After our repast and our thanksgiving, our guide spread a skin for
us to sleep on, and when we lay down he tried to cover us with a
small, thin, and not very clean blanket. It was kind in him, and we
appreciated the service; for it was a cold night and the dew was
heavy, so that we awoke in the morning wet and chilled. But we slept
peacefully and without fear, and awoke thankful for the protecting care
of Israel’s Shepherd.
_Nov. 16._ The morning is bright and cool. The sun of our northern home
shines upon us, but all our surroundings are strange and weird. The
Captain sent his boat early, and we went on board, taking with us the
old chief before mentioned, his son our guide and one other Indian.
All these seemed to be prominent men of the tribe and our object in
taking them on board was to make arrangements with them for living and
travelling with them in Patagonia until our mission to their country
should be accomplished.
Through seamen who have visited the Strait and seen numbers of this
tribe of savages, we learn that a chief whom the sailors called Maria
and dubbed the Queen was somewhere in this region. Supposing that this
woman was invested with high authority, and wishing to have an early
interview with her, we inquired of our old chief and his son where she
was. They signified that she was gone far north to her winter quarters,
but that she would return in about “one moon” to her southern rambles.
We then made them understand that we wished to leave our vessel to live
with them for a season. The three Indians consulted together for about
ten minutes, when the aged sire signified their assent to our proposal,
promising by signs to put food into our mouths, to give us horses to
ride, to carry our luggage, and to take good care of our persons.
They wished to know how many moons we would live with them, and
whether our vessel would return for us, to all of which we replied
indefinitely, as all was uncertain to us.
All this took place in the cabin, the Captain and officers being
present as witnesses. The chief then, by earnest gestures, inquired for
our baggage, and, as it was pointed out article by article, he and his
men laid hold of it, the sailors coming to their help, and in a few
minutes it was all in the boat. We followed, bidding a final farewell
to the Mary Jane, which had been our home for three months.
Captain Clift went on shore with us to assist in erecting our tent and
to bid us a final adieu, intending to sail at evening on his voyage
westward. He has taken a lively interest in all that concerns our
welfare on this expedition. Our tent, which was made in New York, of
light canvas, was pitched to-day for the first time. It spreads about
eight feet in length and six in breadth. In this we have gathered our
little all for our sojourn in Patagonia, consisting of our personal
apparel, a few sheets and blankets, a small chest of medicines, a few
books with stationery, two saddles with bridles and spurs, a few pounds
of sea-biscuit and pork, and a little bag of salt, together with a
variety of articles such as axes, hatchets, files, fishing-tackle,
saws, gimlets, augurs, hammers, handkerchiefs, garments, and several
pieces of cotton and woollen goods, to the amount of a few hundred
dollars, for presents to the savages, or to purchase food or other
useful articles from them. Thus furnished, we commenced housekeeping in
Patagonia on the 16th of November, 1833.
In the afternoon of this day the sealing schooner Plutarch, Captain
Miner, of Mystic, Conn., came into the bay and anchored near the Mary
Jane, and Captain Miner visited us in our tent on shore. At nightfall
the masters, officers, and crews of the two schooners bade us a kind
adieu and went on board, intending to sail that evening.
_Sunday, Nov. 17._ On awaking this morning we found the Mary Jane and
the Plutarch still at anchor in the harbor. A strong head-wind and a
heavy current running east had prevented the vessels from leaving their
anchorage. The boats of these vessels did not leave the davits all day
on account of the roaring wind and the rough sea. We remained in our
little tabernacle during the day; it was crowded from morning till
night with the savages, all curious to examine our luggage, and even
the garments on our persons. They labored hard to talk with us, and we
with them; but we all found it impossible to make ourselves understood
except to a very small degree.
The miserable creatures are nearly destitute of food, as this is the
third day on the shore, and as they rarely find game within five to ten
miles of here.
We ate sparingly of the little stores we took from the vessel, and the
savages--men, women, and children--watch us like hungry dogs, and beg
of us with pitiful importunity.
A few very small mussels are found along the shore, and these are the
only shell-fish we have seen. Of these they gathered a scanty pittance,
but not enough to satisfy hunger.
The Indians have one skin tent on the shore, and a part of them occupy
this, and the rest sit and lie and sleep around upon the grass. Their
time is spent in eating, when they find anything to eat, sleeping,
laughing, talking, singing, card-playing, etc. Their clothing, as has
been said, is of skins of the guanaco, dressed and made into mantles in
the form of a blanket with the fur on. When these are old and filthy
they harbor innumerable small vermin. To-day we saw one of these
mantles spread out, with some six savages gathered around it. One
with a club beat the fur side of the mantle, while the others watched
the game as it was thrown out of the fur, seized and devoured it with
greedy relish.
This is our first Sunday on heathen ground, and it is truly affecting
to be surrounded by these debased and benighted beings, for whom we
have so often prayed, without being able to tell them of a Saviour’s
love, or the motives which brought us to their dark abodes.
_Nov. 18._ Like yesterday and last night, this day has been boisterous
on land and sea. The strong head-wind has kept the vessels at their
anchors; the rain has been abundant, with chilling cold, and the clouds
have been so dense and dark that, for most of the time, we have been
unable to see the schooners at their anchorage. No boats have come to
the shore since the 16th, and we have hardly once moved out of our
quivering tent. But notwithstanding the storm, hunger has driven some
of the savages to mount their horses and hunt for game. The young
chief came to our tent and said in English, “Guanaco most done,” and
signifying that they must brave the storm and hunt. Soon a small party
were mounted on horses, and armed with the _bolas_, an instrument made
of strips of raw-hide about six feet long, with three strands, each
armed at the end with a smooth round pebble about the size of a hen’s
egg, enclosed in skin. This weapon, thrown among the animals from a
horse at full speed, entangles the game so that the hunter, leaping
from his horse, dispatches it with his _cuchillo_, or hunting-knife.
The hunters were gone a long time, and returned at evening, weary,
hungry, with dark and downcast faces, having taken nothing but one
skunk.
The whole dependence of these natives for food is on their wild
animals, chiefly the guanaco, which is very cautious and as fleet
as the deer. We pitied the poor fellows in their hunger and
disappointment, but we had no power to help them from our slender
stores, the whole of which would not have sufficed to give one tenth of
them a meal.
As for fishing, though encamped on the sea-shore, they have no
fishing-tackle, nor do they seem to know anything of the art.
But hungry and thirsty, wet and cold, without tent or fuel, they will
remain on the shore as long as a vessel is at anchor. They are eager
for tobacco and other stimulants, for guns and ammunition, for bread,
pork, and all edibles; but tobacco and intoxicants are the first
articles for which they call, and their desire for these is fearful.
The articles they exchange for what they obtain from ships are fresh
meat of the guanaco, furs, skin mantles, and a few other things.
The chief signified to us that they must return _mañana_, i.e.
to-morrow, to their lodge in the mountains.
At 4 +P.M.+ the storm abated and the sea was more quiet. Soon we saw
the boats of the Mary Jane and the Plutarch lowered and heading for the
shore. The masters, Clift and Miner, with officers and sailors, came
to greet us once more and to bid us another farewell. Captain Miner
brought us a basket of boiled penguins’ eggs, which he had gathered at
the Falkland Islands. These were very acceptable, and in our condition
delicious.
At sunset the boats with our much-esteemed friends returned to the
vessels. At dark the savages, like fowls, retired to their lodgings;
the horses ceased neighing, the dogs ceased howling, the children
ceased their noisy gambols, the adults ceased their hoarse talking, the
wind was lulled, the sea hushed its roar; the great vault of heaven
shone out adorned with glowing constellations and sprinkled with
blazing sapphires. All was calm and quiet, and after offering up our
vesper thanks and petitions to Him who made and who moves the mighty
wheels of the universe, we fell into a sound sleep.
_Nov. 19._ On awaking this morning every vision of home and country,
every mark of civilization, had fled. The little vessels, like
sea-birds, had spread their white pinions to the breeze and sped to the
west. The bark which had borne us so safely for many thousand miles,
and upon which we had been so generously fed for ninety-four days, had
passed away like a dream of the night. Around us were savage horses
neighing, one or two hundred savage dogs barking, and forty or fifty
savage men, women, and children spread out upon the ground, some fast
asleep, some snoring, some grunting, some just opening and rubbing
their eyes, some jabbering, some sitting up and hunting small game in
the upper loft, some smoking the nauseating pipe, some moving slowly
about without apparent motive, some looking at their horses, some
turning on their earthy beds “like a door on its hinges,” half waking
and falling asleep again. But no one was washing hands and face, no one
bathing in pure water, no one reading, no one praying, no one laying
a clean breakfast-table, no one cooking a morning repast, and no one
eating, drinking, or even giving signs of having anything to eat! This
is poverty, hunger, nakedness, filth; this is squalid misery; this is
darkness and deep degradation; this is heathenism and savagism of the
lowest type; this is man with the image of God erased from mind and
heart--man sunk below the brute he feeds on--heaven-created man in
ruins--man unconscious of his origin, utterly ignorant of what he is,
of what he might be, and of all that awaits him!
Such are our surroundings, and such were some of our meditations. And
how could we sound the depth or measure the length and breadth of the
degradation? How, without an interpreter or any medium of communication
with these deaf and dumb and blind spirits, were we to reach them?
But we are here, we thought, and these are the facts. The last material
link which connected us with the civilized and Christian world is
sundered. We are left among these savages without arrangement or pledge
for return to our country. We are thrown upon their hospitality for our
food, and upon their wills for our protection and our lives. But we do
not regret it. We came voluntarily, knowing the facts, and we have no
fears. “One who is faithful and true” has said, “Be not anxious for
your life;” so also for “what we shall eat and drink, for your Heavenly
Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” He that “giveth
to the beast his food and to the young ravens that cry” has said, “I am
with you always. I will never leave or forsake you.”
This was the day set for decamping and going northward, but a cold
rain has prevented. So we have sat in our tent, while the Indians have
filled every vacant nook and corner, watching with curious eyes every
movement we make. We do all we can to communicate with them, but that
is little; our thoughts are like the contents of sealed bottles ready
to burst.