VISITING THE INDIAN CAMP.
_Nov. 20._ Early this morning our young chief, whom we call Louis,
aroused us to prepare for a march to the northward. We struck our tent
at once, and prepared our luggage, which the women packed upon their
horses with skill and care, having abundance of raw-hide thongs for the
purpose. All the labor of pitching and of striking tents, of arranging
and packing baggage, and of carrying little children, pertains to the
women, while the men stand or sit and look idly on. The men carry
nothing, but mount their horses like rangers, riding independently,
deploying to the right and left of the trail in search of game, and
rushing upon it at lightning speed when seen.
While the squaws move along in Indian file on a gentle trot, the males
are seen darting off in tangents, raising the dust on many lines over
the plains, or standing or wheeling on the summits of distant hills,
carefully scanning the surrounding landscape in hope of descrying a
herd of grazing guanacos. Whether successful or unsuccessful they soon
return to the track, often ahead of the caravan, when, after moving on
for a few miles in a waving line, they again repeat the old manœuvre in
search of game.
The horses that we have seen thus far are small, but hardy and fleet,
and quite obedient to the wills of their masters. We were surprised
to see the burdens they carried. The women slung our chest (3 feet by
1½) on one side of a horse, with a good-sized trunk on the other to
balance it. On these they placed a large bag of the weight of a common
travelling-trunk, and above all these a squaw mounted to guide the
horse.
This is a specimen of the burdens with which they load their horses.
When everything was ready, horses were assigned to Mr. Arms and myself,
and as the tribe was _minus_ two horses on account of their foreign
guests, we were invited to take the saddle and reins and to receive a
sturdy Indian each behind us. We accepted the “situation” cheerfully,
for why should the dependent offer terms to his host and benefactor? So
away we galloped with light hearts, for the morning was bright, the air
pure, and the gratification of leaving our dingy, dreary, and hungry
camp for a morning ride over the rolling prairie into the open country
was exhilarating.
The moving and winding cavalcade was a picturesque one. Our faithful
young chief, Louis, led us on, and did not at first deploy like the
other Indians for game. Our way led through level pampas covered with
grass, and skirted at a distance on either hand with mountain ranges,
some of whose summits were still shining with snow.
The travelling was good, and, though our horses were heavily laden, we
proceeded at the rate of about four miles an hour. About once in ten
miles the Indians would rest their horses for an hour, always near a
clump of thorn-bushes when they were to be found. With these brambles
they would kindle a fire and warm themselves; for though the morning
was bright and the breeze gentle, yet by noon the wind became strong
and cold.
We rode our own saddles and used our own bridles and spurs. The native
saddle is a simple and rough imitation of the Spanish saddle-tree, made
of wood and without covering. The girths and stirrup-leathers are only
raw-hide straps. The stirrup is made of wood in triangular form, and
with only breadth enough to receive two toes. The spur is made of two
small pieces of hard wood sharpened to a point, and rigged with leather
straps so as to fasten firmly upon the heel, and tied on the instep.
With these they often goad their horses until their sides run blood.
The bridle-reins are raw-hide, attached to a wooden bit, which is tied
to the under-jaw of the horse without headstall. With this rude bit and
rein the horse is under the full control of his rider.
On our way we saw many guanacos gazing upon us from the distant
hill-tops, or scudding at full speed over the plain to avoid us. At
length Louis suddenly halted, cast a keen look towards the hills on the
left, and in a moment put spurs to his charger and bounded away across
the plain with the speed of an arrow. This sudden movement was soon
explained to us by the savages, who, pointing that way, said “Guanac!
guanac!” The old chief followed his son in company with several others
of the party, while we jogged on with the women, children, and luggage.
In a short time young Louis rejoined our party, informed us that he
had killed a guanaco, and that some of his men had remained behind
to dress it. This gave us all joy, for our appetites were keen after
a hungry ride of five hours. We soon came to a small bunch of bushes,
where the cavalcade halted, dismounted, and kindled a fire.
Presently an Indian came up with a piece of the guanaco they had
killed. This was roasted, or rather warmed and smoked, and distributed
among us all.
When our scanty meal was over we proceeded on our way, the savages
talking or singing in rough guttural tones. At 4 +P.M.+ we arrived at
the Indian headquarters, after a weary ride of 25 to 30 miles.
We found the savages encamped in a narrow valley between two ranges of
hills which screen them from the strong winds of this country.
On our approach to this first real Indian lodge which we had seen, all
the savages, old and young, men, women, and children, with a new pack
of dogs, rushed out to hail us. The dogs howled, the horses neighed,
the men shouted and yelled, the children screamed and ran to and fro,
hiding in and behind the tents, peeping out to get a sight of the
strangers and then withdrawing through fear, while the whole camp was
astir with noisy interest. There were remarkable sights and sounds,
and wonderful garrulity; and what odors too! In this camp we found a
large number of Indians who were not on the shore. The lodge contains
ten skin tents like the one on the beach. These hovels are arranged in
a slightly curved line, all facing the east, as the prevailing winds
are from the west. The tent in which the chief and his family live is
larger and better than the rest, and is a little separated from them on
the right.
A small stream of pure water runs along the valley. This is a great
comfort, as water is extremely scarce in this part of the country.
There is no wood near us except a very few of the prickly bushes spoken
of before, and these are used only in cooking. On our arrival the
squaws unloaded the horses, delivered the baggage to its respective
owners, erected the tent brought up from the bay, and assisted us in
erecting ours. Meanwhile all our parcels were bestowed in a heap in the
tent of the chiefs, father and son, and Louis sat by and watched them
until our tent was ready, when they were brought in and arranged.
These chiefs seem to have adopted us as their children, and to feel a
peculiar responsibility for our protection and comfort. All our baggage
was brought safely up, even to the smallest article, and delivered to
us in good condition.
Everything being thus arranged, we took possession of our little
“tabernacle in the wilderness,” and felt almost at home once more,
though “in a strange land.” Sitting in our tent door as the winds
were hushed and the mild sun was sinking behind the hills, the
people gathered around us, full of smiles and beckonings and wakeful
curiosity; and even the little children, naked as Adam in Eden, were
running and leaping and giggling in their evening gambols, often
venturing near our tent, looking in upon us with curious eyes, and then
with a jolly shout returning again to their plays upon the turf.
The old mother, wife of the aged chief, brought us a piece of guanaco
and of pork from the Mary Jane. It was cooked in an old iron pot, and
upon this we made our first meal in the inland camp of the Indians;
after which we offered up our evening thanks and petitions to Him whose
guardian love and care had led us thus far, and then, resting from
care, enjoyed a peaceful sleep.
_Nov. 21._ Early in the morning the whole camp was astir, and the
people flocked around our tent to watch our movements. Our hero,
Louis, also came, and seeing me in the act of shaving, he begged me to
take off his beard. This I did, apparently much to his gratification.
Our breakfast, like our supper, was given us by the good old motherly
chief, though this was evidently nearly the last morsel of meat in the
tent.
Thus far we have not suffered severely from hunger, as our Indian hosts
divide their scanty pittance with us. This we eat without bread or
vegetables.
A party of ten, with horses, dogs, and the bolas, went out on a hunt
this morning, headed by our friend, Captain Louis. Mr. Arms joined the
party, while I remained to “keep ship,” _i.e._ to look after the tent.
At 4 +P.M.+ the Captain and Mr. Arms returned hungry and weary, having
ridden a great distance and taken nothing. As the meat in the camp was
exhausted, the savages looked gloomy and the children clamored and
cried with hunger. Things were looking dark, and we began to apprehend
suffering. Soon, however, another detachment of the hunting party
returned with three fine guanacos slung in quarters upon their horses.
Then there was laughing and shouting, and all was bright again. Before
dark we were presented with a piece of meat well roasted for our supper.
The hunters also gave us an ostrich-egg measuring 14 inches in its
longer and 11¾ inches in its shorter circumference. This was indeed a
God-send, as we were already longing for something besides meat for
food.
I spent the day in our little tent surrounded as usual by the natives,
who take great pains to communicate with us, and who seem to wonder who
and what we are, whence we came, and why we have voluntarily located
ourselves among them. We long to converse with them, but there is no
interpreter. Probably no man on earth understands their language but
themselves. They seem fond of their little children, and love to have
us notice them. The children also are losing their shyness, and flock
around us in a smiling and confiding way. We brought out many coarse
combs, with finer ones for their use, and the little naked urchins seem
delighted to have us teach them how to comb their swampy heads.
We have been examining their tents, or wigwams, and find they are made
thus: Three or four rows, according to the size of the wigwam, of small
stakes are set vertically in parallel lines in the ground. The first
or front row may be five, six, or eight feet high, the second a foot
or two shorter, and the third or fourth about two feet. On the tops of
these upright stakes are slender longitudinal poles that reach from
end to end of the hovel; they are lashed to the stakes with strips of
skin or with the tendons of animals. This completes the frame. Over
this a large covering of skins is spread and secured by thongs. The
ends of the hut are secured by skins fastened to upright stakes or
horizontal poles. The front is left open in fair weather; but in winter
and during storms it is enclosed like the ends with curtains of skins.
For this covering they use the skins of old guanacos, or those of the
puma, cougar, or gray lion of South America. These skins are cut and
well matched and sewed together with the sinews of animals, making
blankets of convenient size, to be rolled, unrolled, spread on the
tent, and removed at will. All the tents, including frames, coverings,
partitions, etc., are made with reference to packing and transporting
from one part of the country to another; for when a tribe or clan or
division removes, nothing is left behind.
The dress of these people in its primitive state was, of course,
exclusively of skins. For this purpose the skins of the calves or
young guanacos were selected because of the lightness of the material,
but especially on account of the softness of the fur, or rather wool.
This is short, thick, and soft, like lamb’s wool, interspersed with
thin scattering hairs. The Indians have the art of dressing these
skins with the wool on, so that they are soft and pliable like dressed
deer-skin.
Thus prepared, they are cut by “dovetailing” so as to secure the
greatest economy of the material, and then sewed together with a small
awl of iron, which they call _hodle_, according to the size desired.
The form is that of a shawl or blanket, and it is often ornamented on
the flesh side with various figures colored in pigment. This is the
only garment of the males, except a narrow belt of skin or cloth to
cover their nakedness. It is wrapped around the person like a blanket,
and in cold and stormy weather it is drawn up so as to cover the head
like a hood and fastened around the waist with “a girdle of skin” like
the mantle of John the Baptist. When the weather is cold the wool side
is turned inward, and outward when it is warm. When hunting, the Indian
girds it tight about his loins to save it from being swept off by the
wind, but lets it fall from his shoulders to flutter in the wind,
while the arms and upper part of the body are free for the management
of the reins, the lasso, the bolas, the spear, the bow and arrow, or
the knife.
The women dress like the men except that they wear a broader garment
around the waist, extending from the hips to the knees. Over this the
mantle is like that of the man. The foot is usually bare, but sometimes
protected by moccasins made of the skin of a horse’s or guanaco’s leg,
dressed soft and worn like a boot or stocking. They wear no head-dress
but their long, coarse black hair. The small children wear “Adam-skin.”
_Nov. 22._ Besides the young chief Louis, who has been so attentive to
us, another young man claims to be a chief, under the name of Captain
Lorice. He professes great friendship for us, often coming to our tent
with a piece of roast meat, and trying to talk with us. When either of
these chiefs is with us we have little annoyance from other visitors,
but in their absence we are often troubled by the lower class of the
savages, especially by mothers and children who try to examine all
our baggage, often asking us with no little impudence to open all our
packages and exhibit the contents. They beg relentlessly, and pilfer
small articles whenever they find opportunity.
Twelve of the savages amused themselves a long time to-day by playing
a game of ball. In this exercise they threw off their mantles, and
exerted themselves in a state of nudity, having no clothing upon them
except the strip around the loins. Their ball is nothing but a round
knot of wood; their bat is a stick two feet long, and crooked at one
end like the handle of a pistol. With this they drive the ball along
the ground, apparently without order or system.
They have a few cards with which they occasionally play, but we have
seen no gambling as yet.
At noon Captain Louis led up a horse in front of his cabin, when
another Indian, standing about six feet in front of the animal, shot an
arrow into his breast. The arrow penetrated eighteen inches, entering
the heart. In a few minutes the horse staggered and fell dead, and soon
it was dressed and prepared for cooking--head, feet, entrails, and
all. Shortly after several pieces were brought to us roasted. On these
we dined. The horse was fat, and the meat tender and not unpalatable,
especially for men in our hungry condition.
As the savages find their game so wild and fleet that it cannot
be procured without vigorous exertions, and as they are supremely
indolent, they are quite liable to get out of food, when their only
recourse is to slaughter a horse. Though they caught three guanacos
yesterday, all were consumed at once; for, divided among a hundred
half-starved people, there was but a small pittance for each individual.
This afternoon we found that a good cord belonging to our tent was
missing. Of this we informed Louis, who immediately commenced a search
from hovel to hovel, until he found and restored it to us. He seemed to
feel badly on account of the affair, and many of the savages gathered
around us to protest their own innocence of the offence. This showed
some sense of right and wrong in their minds, and our action in the
case seemed to impress them favorably. At first we debated the question
as to the prudence, in this early stage of our acquaintance with the
Indians, of complaining of this petty theft; but as it was obvious
that even these ignorant beings had some notions of the right, and
as we feared that a neglect to notice the affair would embolden them
to further depredations, we resolved to be decided with them in the
outset, and, if possible, to check the evil in the bud. Thus far the
effect is decidedly favorable. The chiefs tell us that they must soon
remove to some place where guanacos are plenty, and ask if we will go
with them. Of course we have no alternative, as our lives depend on
their supply of food. Our lot is cast with the savages for better or
for worse, and we wish to travel wherever they go, to see the country.
_Nov. 23._ The weather has been fine for most of the time since we came
up into the country. Gentle spring showers are frequent, and the air is
mild and salubrious.
Early in the morning I rambled out and climbed one of the highest peaks
of the northern range of hills under which we are encamped. It is
covered with grass to its summit, and I saw three guanacos feeding on
its side. I also started a gray fox, an animal common in this country.
From the top of this hill I had a grand and extended view of the
surrounding country. The landscape consists of vast plains, studded
here and there with isolated conical hills, and skirted by low mountain
ranges. But silence and desolation reign everywhere. No voice of man or
beast or bird echoed through the stillness. The three guanacos shot
off at reindeer speed, and were soon out of sight, and the fox sneaked
noiselessly away and disappeared. No pretty villages nestled among
shade-trees; no lowing herds, or bleating flocks, or gamboling lambkins
gave life and beauty to the landscape, or broke its everlasting
slumbers.
I returned to the camp, and found it almost desolate. A large company
of Indians had gone out on a hunting expedition, while most of the
available women and children went a long distance to the hills, where
they gathered fungus excrescences from old trees. These fungi consist
of small globular masses, quite dry and tasteless, which the savages
eat with their meat as we would eat popped corn. They returned at
evening with small quantities of this insipid article, which they call
_chouet_ and of which they seem fond. They gave us a little, and we eat
it for want of bread or vegetables.
Our camp has been quiet, as so many have been absent and we have not
experienced our usual annoyances.
We have been well supplied with horse-beef to-day, roasted or boiled in
an old iron pot, and brought to us by the savages when they took their
own meals.
The hunting party returned with seven guanacos, and our food is just
now abundant. Captain Louis brought me a pair of trousers to-day,
received on board the Mary Jane, and requested me to piece them, as
they are too small! He often brings us little tasks, and seems much
pleased by our ability and readiness to help him. He has spent much
of the day with us, and he exhibits the same inquiring disposition,
often asking us the names of things in English, and then giving us
their Patagonian names. We are more and more pleased with his kindness,
and feel glad to have him with us. He loves to imitate Americans, and
occasionally comes out in a full sailor’s dress which he has obtained
of some passing vessel.
The old chief, father of Louis, had a severe colic to-day, and groaned
heavily with pain. Mr. Arms gave him a sedative, which soon relieved
the pain and surprised the gazing savages.
Our almost constant music during the day is the noise of children and
the barking and yelling of dogs. These animals are extremely poor,
and whenever meat or bones are thrown out to them there is a horrid
squabble of a whole pack, and the weaker escape limping from the jaws
of the stronger with yells which are piercing. Besides this their
owners are almost constantly beating them with clubs, keeping up an
incessant uproar in the canine family.
_Sunday, Nov. 24._ The Indians had a long game at ball-play this
forenoon; otherwise the day has been quiet. We have never seen our
young chief Louis at a game of ball. Is it because he regards his
dignity too highly? We cannot say. As yet we have seen nothing
which looks like religious rites among this people, nor do we know
whether they have any notions of a Supreme Being or a future state of
existence. They have crude ideas of right and wrong. They praise and
blame. The thief is shy and shows a sense of fear and guilt; and the
man who has lost a knife, a file, or a piece of meat by a thief is full
of rage and cursing. Of course their moral code, or their distinction
between right and wrong, is very imperfect. We are forcibly impressed,
however, with the truth asserted by Paul in regard to the heathen who
have not the Scriptures: “These having not the law, are a law unto
themselves; who show the work of the law written in their hearts, their
conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while
accusing or else excusing one another.”
Most of this day we have spent in our little tabernacle, where we
have been visited by many of the Indians, who have been very civil;
and we have tried to interest them by signs. But ah! it is hard to
be surrounded by these gazing, chattering savages without being able
to teach them of “the true God and Eternal Life.” We long for an
interpreter, to open an avenue to their understandings and hearts. But
our desires are vain.
These savages seem to look upon us as of a superior race of beings,
and they are more and more careful not to do things which appear to
displease us, often quietly _asking_ liberty to come into our tent, and
carefully avoiding meddling with our furniture without leave.
We show them maps and pictures, and interest them with object-lessons
so far as we have the means to teach them. The effect of checking them
when noisy and rude, and in every effort to commit petty depredations,
appears favorable; and thus we are enabled to impress them with some
moral lessons and to lead them in some degree. We look upon them with
pity and compassion, and they gaze upon us with unceasing wonder.
_Nov. 25._ Cold and uncomfortable. Spent most of the day in our tent
making a flannel shirt for our chief. He watches the work with great
interest, and many others crowd around to see us use the needle. All
our operations are watched by scores of curious eyes.
A grand hunt to-day, and the party returned at evening with ten
guanacos. Captain Louis brought home a fine young calf, and presented
it whole and undressed to us. This gives us a good supply for several
days; but we have no salt for preserving meat. The natives use no salt,
although there is salt in the interior; but the air is cold and pure,
and meat can be kept three days by hanging it out in the wind. When
their fresh meat is abundant they jerk it, then smoke and pound it
into a Patagonian pemmican. This they often preserve against a famine,
a long storm, or winter when the snows are deep. Hitherto we have let
the Indians bring us our food cooked. To-morrow we propose to commence
cooking for ourselves, as their cookery is wretched.
_Nov. 26._ After retiring last evening, we heard for a long time what
appeared to be a speech or harangue in the tent of our chief. The tones
of voice expressed great earnestness and animation, and were finely
modulated for a public speaker.
What the nature and occasion of this declamation were we are unable to
learn. Our ears were also saluted by harsh, monotonous singing in some
of the tents for most of the night, so that we slept but little.
To-day, by permission of our hosts, we commenced cooking our own food.
And though our bill of fare is still limited to one article, we find a
decided improvement in our meals.
During our culinary operations the natives crowded around in large
numbers, and with an intense curiosity, wondering at our strange
manœuvres. We can practise but three modes of cooking--roasting,
frying, and boiling--but these will give us a little variety in our
dishes.
_Nov. 27._ This day has passed like most of the days since we came to
this camp. The poor savages lounge around us from morning to night,
unless hunger drives them out to hunt. They both excite our sympathy
and try our patience. Most of them are quiet and civil when they pay
us a visit, but one woman is more troublesome than all the rest of the
tribe; indeed we both agree that she is the most vexatious creature
we ever met in human form. She is large, ill-formed, dark-visaged,
greasy, and filthy. These physical defects we could endure; but her
spiritual composition seems to consist of all that is revolting in
impudence and villainy. Her visits are long and frequent; she seems
determined to handle and examine every bag, box, trunk, and all other
articles in our tent; and she is perpetually begging for herself and
children, of whom she has a large brood. She rarely fails to be present
at our meals, looking into our saucepan, peeping into every dish, and
begging everything we cook. To-day she had the assurance to dash her
brawny hand into our soup and haul out some of the meat. This was not
occasioned by hunger, as there is now an abundance of meat in her tent.
We treat her with as much inattention as possible, and have resolved to
give her nothing she asks for until she ceases her impudent begging,
persuaded that to gratify her wishes would only make her visits more
frequent and her demands more intolerable.
Sometimes she seems vexed by our neglect, and leaves us in a pet,
growling and muttering as she goes; and we indulge the momentary
hope that we shall have less of her company henceforth. But she soon
returns to the attack with renewed vigor, and we have only to entrench
ourselves again with apparent indifference, and thus to stand on the
defensive until the storm is over. Such cases only impress us more and
more with the absolute degradation of these savages.
_Nov. 28._ Cold and dreary. We spend a large portion of our time in
reading, writing, and studying Spanish.
We hear that there are some Indians in other clans who know more
Spanish and English words than any we have yet met. We learn, also,
that there are several runaway captive sailors among the northern
clans, and that these clans will soon visit us, with the queen, Maria,
and these English and American captives. We therefore await with
great interest their arrival, hoping to find some better medium of
communication than we now have, and thus to learn more of the country
and its inhabitants.
The Indians come to us in crowds, filling our tent, squatting before
the door, and straining their black eyes to look in and see what we are
doing. Many of them are pleasant in their demeanor, and bring us pieces
of meat. But we depend chiefly upon our host, Louis, to supply our
wants.
Our mode of cooking and eating affords them great amusement, and
the smell of our soup or our roast is a signal for them to rally and
come to our tent. They sit and look at us, and then talk earnestly
and laugh, then look again and again, even trying to look down our
throats, enjoying their diversions heartily. This is a great annoyance,
but we must bear it patiently; it will pass off when their curiosity
is satisfied. These savages, like all others, are fond of ornaments.
We find the brass thimbles we gave them, with needles and thread for
sewing, punched with holes, strung on strings, and hung around their
necks or upon their breasts.
The troublesome woman mentioned yesterday is, we learn, the wife of
Captain Lorice. The husband has appeared kind and friendly, but he
seems greatly under her dictatorial influence; petticoat government,
so to speak, being by no means unknown even in Patagonia. She not only
begs herself and teaches her children to beg, but she has set her
husband on to beg likewise.
We now learn that there is not the most perfect harmony between the
families of the two chiefs. This arises, as we suppose, from envy and
jealousy on the part of this woman, whom we have dubbed “Jezebel.”
Lorice came alone to our tent to-day and told us that he should strike
tents to-morrow and go to another place, urging us to abandon our host,
Louis, and go with him. He offered to furnish us with good horses,
to care for our luggage, and to supply all our wants. He pointed to
the hut of Captain Louis and, with a frown, cried out, “Malo, malo!
mañana!”--Bad, bad! to-morrow! We fear that a storm is gathering, and
that trouble may come to the camp. Louis has said nothing to us on
the subject, but a settled thoughtfulness on his countenance, for now
several days past, has indicated that his heart was heavy.
Our resolution, however, is taken. Trusting calmly in Him who has ever
been our protector, we will not forsake our trusty and faithful friend
Louis, who seems to have been sent of God to meet us, first of all,
in Patagonia, and to be our host and guide thus far in this “howling
wilderness.”