Deer seen--Hope sails again--Eagle Bay--Gabriel Channel--'Williwaws'--
Port Waterfall--Natives--Admiralty Sound--Gabriel Channel--Magdalen
Channel--Hope returns to Port Famine--San Antonio--Lomas Bay--Loss of
boat--Master and two seamen drowned.
From Mr. Graves's report of the appearance of the channel to the S.E. of
Dawson Island, I decided to proceed there as soon as the Hope was ready,
for she required some alteration, and repairs.
A deer having been seen on Point St. Anna, Mr. Tarn landed, very early in
the morning, eager for the prize, but could only get an ineffectual shot.
At another time a few deer were seen by our party, near the river; but
instead of returning with the information, they fired their guns, loaded
with small shot only, which served but to scare them away. As the animal
was new to us, and we had evidence of its being equally new to Science, I
was anxious to procure a specimen, but never afterwards had an opportunity.
Here Sarmiento saw the only deer which he mentions in his journal.
The morning of the 16th seeming more favourable, I set out in the Hope. The
heights were covered with snow which had fallen the preceding night, the
thermometer had been at freezing point, and much ice had formed; but the
appearance of the weather deceived us: we had scarcely left the ship, when
it began to rain, and by the time we reached Cape San Isidro the wind had
freshened to a gale, which obliged me to anchor in Eagle Bay.
Having landed, a tent was pitched, and a blazing fire made to dry our
clothes. In the evening the gale blew with great {49} violence from S.W.,
and the Hope, at her anchor, sheered about by the squalls, was occasionally
laid over so as to dip her gunwale under water.
The following day (17th), although the rain had ceased, the wind was still
strong. Towards evening it fell, and early on the 18th we left Eagle Bay
with a fresh breeze from E.N.E., and passed close to Port San Antonio; but
were then delayed by calms and squalls. At noon a westerly wind sprung up,
and we proceeded down the Gabriel Channel, with the wind aft, and the tide
in our favour. Port Waterfall sheltered us for the night.
The apparently artificial formation of this channel is very striking. It
seems to have been formerly a valley between two ridges of the range, in
the direction of the strata (of which there are frequent instances, such as
the valley in the Lomas Range, opposite Cape San Isidro, the valley of
Valdez Bay, and one immediately to the north of the channel itself, besides
many others), and that at some remote period the sea had forced its way
through, effecting a communication between the Strait and the waters behind
Dawson Island: as if one of those great 'northern waves,' of which we once
heard so much, had rolled down the wide reach of the Strait (the
parallelism of whose shores is also remarkable) from the north-west,
towards Cape Froward; and finding itself opposed by the Lomas Range, had
forced a passage through the valley until stopped by the mountains at
Fitton Bay. Having imagined such a wave in motion, the reader may fancy it
uniting with another northern roller from Cape San Valentyn, attacking the
hills and carrying all before it, until Mount Hope, at the bottom of
Admiralty Sound, arrested its course. I have already noticed the remarkably
straight direction in which this curious channel trends. At both
extremities the width may be from two to three miles; but the shores
gradually approach each other midway, and the coast on each side rises
abruptly to the height of fifteen hundred feet. The south shore, sheltered
from the prevailing and strongest winds, is thickly covered with trees and
luxuriant underwood, which, being chiefly evergreen, improve {50} the
scenery greatly, particularly in the winter season: the north shore is also
well wooded for about two-thirds up; but the summit is barren and the
outline very much serrated, as is usual in slate formations.
On the north shore we noticed some extraordinary effects of the whirlwinds
which so frequently occur in Tierra del Fuego. The crews of sealing vessels
call them 'williwaws,' or 'hurricane-squalls,' and they are most violent.
The south-west gales, which blow upon the coast with extreme fury, are pent
up and impeded in passing over the high lands; when, increasing in power,
they rush violently over the edges of precipices, expand, as it were, and
descending perpendicularly, destroy every thing moveable. The surface of
the water, when struck by these gusts, is so agitated, as to be covered
with foam, which is taken up by them, and flies before their fury until
dispersed in vapour. Ships at anchor under high land are sometimes suddenly
thrown over on their beam-ends, and the next moment recover their
equilibrium, as if nothing had occurred. Again a squall strikes them,
perhaps on the other side, and over they heel before its rage: the cable
becomes strained, and checks the ship with a jerk, that causes her to start
a-head through the water, until again stopped by the cable, or driven
astern by another gust of wind.
At all these anchorages, under high land, there are some parts more exposed
than others; and by watching for those places which are least troubled by
these squalls, a more secure, or rather a more quiet, spot may be selected.
I do not consider ships so anchored to be in danger if their ground tackle
be good; but every thing that offers a stiff resistance must suffer from
the fury of these blasts. In many parts of this country trees are torn up
by the roots, or rent asunder by the wind; and in the Gabriel Channel the
'williwaws' bursting over the mountainous ridge, which forms the south side
of the channel, descend, and striking against the base of the opposite
shore, rush up the steep, and carry all before them. I know of nothing to
which I can better compare the bared track left by one of these squalls
than to a bad broad road. After {51} having made such an opening, the wind
frequently sweeping through prevents the growth of vegetation. Confused
masses of up-rooted trees lie at the lower ends of these bared tracks, and
show plainly what power has been exerted.
The southern shore of the channel is formed by the base of that range of
hills, which extends, from the eastern side of the Magdalen Channel,
towards the E.S.E. It is the highest part of Tierra del Fuego, and on it
are several remarkable mountains, besides Sarmiento, towering over all.
Close to the east end of the Gabriel Channel is Mount Buckland, a tall
obelisk-like hill, terminating in a sharp needle-point, and lifting its
head above a chaotic mass of 'reliquiae diluvianae,' covered with perpetual
snow, by the melting of which an enormous glacier on the leeward, or
north-eastern side, has been gradually formed. This icy domain is twelve or
fourteen miles long, and extends from near the end of the channel to Port
Waterfall, feeding, in the intermediate space, many magnificent cascades,
which, for number and height, are not perhaps to be exceeded in an equal
space of any part of the world. Within an extent of nine or ten miles,
there are upwards of a hundred and fifty waterfalls, dashing into the
channel from a height of fifteen hundred, or two thousand feet. The course
of many is concealed, at first, by intervening trees, and, when half-way
down the descent, they burst upon the view, leaping, as it were, out of the
wood. Some unite as they fall, and together are precipitated into the sea,
in a cloud of foam; so varied, indeed, are the forms of these cascades, and
so great their contrast with the dark foliage of the trees, which thickly
cover the sides of the mountain, that it is impossible adequately to
describe the scene. I have met with nothing exceeding the picturesque
grandeur of this part of the Strait.
There are several coves on the south shore, but opposite to them there is
no shelter until you reach a deep bay in which are several islets; and
where, I think, there is a communication with Brenton Sound, but we did not
enter it.
Port Waterfall may easily be known by a large flat-topped bare rock, lying
across the summit of the eastern head, and {52} by a magnificent cascade
formed by the union of two torrents.
All the plants of the Strait grow here: a sweet-scented Callixene (_C.
marginata_, Lam^k.) filled the air with its odour; and a beautiful flower
we had not previously seen, was found by Mr. Graves: it was pendulous,
tubular, about two inches long (Class. Hexand. Monog. Cal. 2 Pet. 3.
pointed), and of a rich carnation colour.
The trees are small and stunted; they are of the usual species, Beech and
Winter's-bark. Here we first noticed a large fern,[48] having a stem two or
three feet long, and five or six inches in diameter, very similar to the
Zamia of New Holland. We saw very few birds, and no quadrupeds. Among the
former was a king-fisher, which at the time was new to us; but it is
distributed over a large tract of South America, and I have since seen a
specimen said to have been shot at Rio de Janeiro.
Fitton Harbour is a deep inlet, surrounded on all sides by precipitous
land, rising to the height of three, or four thousand feet, and terminated
by peaks, of most fantastic shape, covered with ice and snow.
Between Fitton Harbour and Cape Rowlett are high mountains, two of which,
more conspicuous than the rest, we called 'Mount Sherrard,' and 'Curious
Peak.'
Card Point proved to be clay-slate, and I think the projection of Cape
Rowlett, and the mountains, are also of this rock.
While crossing over towards Cape Rowlett, (the south head of a deep sound,
trending to the S.E., which it was my intention to examine), we were met by
three canoes, containing, together, about twenty-four people, and ten or
twelve dogs. Mr. Wickham recognised them to be the same party who had
visited the Hope on her last cruize; the thief, however, was not amongst
them, fearing probably he might be known.
[Illustration: PORT FAMINE
(Looking Northwards).]
[Illustration: PORT FAMINE
(Looking Southwards).]
[Illustration: P. P. King S. Bull
CURIOUS PEAK, ADMIRALTY SOUND.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838]
{53} These natives conducted themselves very quietly, and, except one of
the women, who wished to keep a tin-pot in which some water had been given
her, made no attempt to pilfer. One of the party, who seemed more than half
an idiot, spit in my face; but as it was not apparently done angrily, and
he was reproved by his companions, his uncourteous conduct was forgiven.
If possessed of any furs, they had left them, perhaps concealed, near their
wigwams: only a few arrows, a necklace of shells, and a fillet for the
head, made of ostrich feathers, were obtained by barter. Their canoes were
paddled by the women, occasionally helped by the men. One or two of the
former were young, and well-featured, but the rest were hideous; and all
were filthy and most disagreeable, from the quantity of seal-oil and
blubber, with which they had covered their bodies. After we had obtained,
by barter, all the articles they had to dispose of, I presented them with
red caps and medals, of which they were very proud: the latter they
requested might have a hole drilled through them, that they might be
suspended by a string round their necks. Their astonishment was much
excited, and they were pleased by hearing a watch tick; but I believe I had
very nearly, though unintentionally; given great offence, by cutting off a
lock of hair, from the head of one of the men. Assuming a grave look, he
very carefully wrapped the hair up, and handed it to a woman in the canoe,
who, as carefully, stowed it away in a basket, in which she kept her beads
and paint: the man then turned round, requesting me, very seriously, to put
away the scissors, and my compliance restored him to good-humour.
The features of these people bore a great resemblance to those of the
Patagonian Indians, but in person they were considerably shorter and
smaller. The elderly people of both sexes had hideous figures; the
children, however, and young men, were well-formed; particularly one of the
boys, whom they called 'Y[=a]l-l[)a]-b[)a],' which, I believe, meant a
youth, or a young warrior. The word 'Sh[=e]rr[=o]o' was used to denote a
canoe, or vessel.
They were ill-clothed, with mantles made of guanaco, or otter skins, but
not so neatly as those of the Patagonians. {54} Their bodies were smeared
over with a mixture of earth, charcoal, or red-ocre, and seal-oil; which,
combined with the filth of their persons, produced a most offensive smell.
Some were partially painted with a white argillaceous earth; others were
blackened with charcoal; one of the men was daubed all over with a white
pigment. Their hair was bound by a fillet of plaited twine, made perhaps
with strips of bark, and a few of them had it turned up; but to none did it
appear to be an object of attention, except one of the young women, who
repeatedly combed and arranged her's with the well-toothed jaw of a
porpoise.
During a remarkably calm night, we were frequently startled by the loud
blowing of whales, between us and the shore. We had noticed several of
those monsters on the previous day, but had never heard them blow in so
still a place.
At dawn, a light air carried us towards some broken land to the S.E. of
Cape Rowlett, between the eastern trend of which, and the projecting point
of an island, we found a secure and land-locked harbour, with two
entrances, one to the north and the other to the south of High Islet. The
south side of the port, which I called Port Cooke,[49] is a narrow strip of
land, forming the head of a deep inlet or sound, called[50] Brook Harbour.
It seemed to extend to the base of the high mountainous range, and to be
separated only by a narrow isthmus from Fitton Harbour.
We had scarcely been at anchor half an hour when the same party of Fuegians
was seen arriving. The men hastened to us in their canoes, as soon as the
women had landed, to cover or thatch the wigwams, which they found
standing, and to light fires.
We afterwards went ashore, and, sitting down near them, commenced a brisk
trade for arrows, skins, necklaces, and other commodities. The furs which
covered their backs they parted with, for a few beads, and went quite naked
the whole evening.
Among them was a young man, who appeared to be treated {55} with some
deference by the others; he was one of the best-looking of the party; and
there was a good-natured smile on his countenance during our communication,
while the rest frequently manifested displeasure, even about trifles. He
was, at least, the master of one of the two families; his wigwam contained
his wife, and two children, his, or his wife's father, and mother, as well
as the idiot, and his wife, who, from her appearance, must have been a
Patagonian, or else a woman of unusual size among these people. The old
woman was very inquisitive, and the man, in a long speech, described to her
all the wonders I had shown him, applying to me, from time to time, to
point out to her the articles he was trying to describe.
Their dexterity with the sling is extraordinary; and, I should think, when
used as a weapon of offence, it must be very formidable. Upon asking the
same man to show us its use, he picked up a pebble, about the size of a
pigeon's egg, and placed it in the sling; then intimating that he was going
to strike a canoe, he turned his back to the mark, and threw the stone in
an opposite direction, against the trunk of a tree, whence it rebounded
over his head, and fell close to the canoe.
I have seen them strike a cap, placed upon the stump of a tree, fifty or
sixty yards off, with a stone from a sling. In using the bow and arrow,
also, with which they kill birds, they are very dexterous. The spear is
principally for striking porpoises and seals, but is also used in war; and
from the nature of the barb, must be an efficient weapon. For close
quarters, they use clubs, stones held in the hand, and short wooden
daggers, pointed with very sharp-edged quartz, pitch-stone, or flint.
The next morning, seeing us underweigh, they came alongside and tried to
induce us to anchor again. The young man, of whom I have spoken, was very
importunate, and at last offered us his wife, as a bribe, who used all her
fancied allurements to second his proposal.
So highly did they esteem beads and buttons, that a few of each would have
purchased the canoe, the wife, and children, {56} their dogs, and all the
furniture. Seeing us proceed to the southward, with the apparent intention
of sailing down the inlet, they motioned to us to go to the north,
repeatedly calling out 'Sherroo, sherroo,' and pointing to the northward;
which we thought intimated that there was no passage in the direction we
were taking.
At noon, I landed to observe the latitude, and take bearings down the Sound
to the S.E., at the bottom of which was a hill, standing by itself, as it
were, in mid-channel. The view certainly excited hopes of its being a
channel; and as we had begun to calculate upon reaching Nassau Bay in a few
days, we named this hill, Mount Hope.
The point on which we landed was at the foot of a high snow-capped hill,
called by us Mount Seymour; whence, had not the Indians been near, I should
have taken bearings.
We sailed south-eastward, close to the south shore, until the evening; when
from the summit of some hills, about three hundred feet above the sea, we
had a view down the Sound, which almost convinced us it would prove to be a
channel. The rock at this place differed from any we had seen in the
Strait. The mountains are high, and evidently of clay-slate; but the point,
near which we anchored, is a mass of hard, and very quartzose sand-stone,
much resembling the old red sand-stone formation of Europe, and precisely
like the rock of Goulburn Island, on the north coast of New Holland.[51]
The following morning (23d), we proceeded towards Mount Hope, while running
down to which some squalls passed over, clouding the south shore, and as we
passed Parry Harbour it bore so much the appearance of a channel, that we
stood into it; but the clouds clearing away soon exposed the bottom to our
view, where there seemed to be two arms or inlets. In the south-eastern
arm, the shores were covered with thick ice (like the bottom of Ainsworth
Harbour, to the west of Parry Harbour, where an immense glacier slopes down
to the water's edge). The south-west arm appeared to be well sheltered, and
if it affords a moderate depth of water, would be an excellent harbour.
{57}
After satisfying ourselves that there was no channel here, we bore up on
our original course; but, before long, found ourselves within two miles of
the bottom of the Sound; which is shallow, and appears to receive two
rivers. The great quantity of ice water, which mingles here with the sea,
changed its colour to so pale a blue, that we thought ourselves in fresh
water.
Mount Hope proved to be an isolated mass of hills, lying like the rest N.W.
and S.E., having low land to the southward, over which nothing was visible
except one hill, thirty or forty miles distant, covered with snow, to which
the rays of the sun gave the appearance of a sheet of gold. Finding
ourselves embayed, we hastened out of the scrape, and, after beating for
some hours, anchored in Parry Harbour.
Our entrance into a little cove in Parry Harbour disturbed a quantity of
ducks, steamers, shags, and geese. Their numbers showed that Indians had
not lately visited it.
Next day we reached Ainsworth Harbour, which is of the same character as
Parry Harbour, and affords perfect security for small vessels: by dint of
sweeping, we reached a secure anchorage in a cove at the south-east corner.
The bottom of the port is formed, as I before said, by an immense glacier,
from which, during the night, large masses broke off and fell into the sea
with a loud crash,[52] thus explaining the nocturnal noises we had often
heard at Port Famine, and which at the time were thought to arise from the
eruption of volcanoes. Such were also, probably, the sounds heard by the
Spanish officers during their exploration of the Straits, whilst in the
port of Santa Monica, where they had taken refuge from a violent gale of
wind.[53]
{58}
The harbour was full of fragments of ice, the succeeding morning, drifting
into the Sound, where the sea-water, being at a higher temperature than the
air, rapidly melted them.
Since our departure from Port Waterfall, the weather had been mild, clear,
and settled; but as it wanted only three days of the change of the moon, at
which period, as well as at the full, it always blew a gale, I wished to
reach a place of security in the Gabriel Channel or Magdalen Sound.
Near the islands of Ainsworth Harbour, three canoes passed us, steering
across the Sound, each with a seal-skin fixed up in the bow for a sail; and
we recognised in them the party left at Port Cooke, among whom was the
Indian who had been detected in stealing a tin pot. They did not come
along-side; but as we went by, pointed to the north, apparently urging us
to go in that direction.
We had noticed several wigwams at Parry and Ainsworth Harbours, which shows
that they are much frequented by Indians, perhaps on their way to the open
low country east of Mount Hope, where numerous herds of guanacoes may be
found.
Porpoises and seal were not scarce in this inlet, and in the entrance there
were many whales. The presence of seal and whales made me think it probable
there was a channel; but I believe every person with me was satisfied of
its being a sound, terminating under Mount Hope. Since my later experience
of the deceptive character of some passages in Tierra del Fuego (the
Barbara Channel, for example), I have felt less certain that there may not
be a communication with the low land, behind Mount Hope, round its northern
base. The improbability was, however, so great,--from the bottom of the
sound {59} being shoal,--from the very slight tide-stream,--and from the
information of the Natives; who evidently intended to tell us we could not
get out to sea,--that we did not consider it worth while to make another
examination.
I have before observed that the strata of the slate rocks, in the Strait,
dip to the S.E.; and I found that they dip similarly all the way to the
bottom of this inlet, which I named Admiralty Sound.
The north side, like that of the Gabriel Channel, is steep, without
indentations, excepting where there is a break in the hills; but on the
south shore there are many coves, and bights, the cause of which is shown
in the accompanying imaginary section of the Gabriel Channel. The same
cause operates on the outline of the north shore of the reach of Cape
Froward, westward as far as Cape Holland, where the rock assumes a still
more primitive form. Its general character, however, is micaceous slate,
with broad veins of quartz; the latter being particularly conspicuous at
Port Gallant.
The following slight sketch, intended to represent an imaginary section of
such an opening as the Gabriel Channel, may also serve to give a general
idea of many Fuegian anchorages;--of deep water passages existing between
the almost innumerable islands of Tierra del Fuego;--and of the effects of
those sudden, and violent gusts of wind,--so frequent and
dangerous,--commonly called hurricane-squalls,[54] or williwaws.
{60}
[Illustration]
The rock, of course, decomposes equally on both sides; but on that exposed
to the south wind, it breaks off in flakes parallel to the direction of the
strata, and therefore does not make the course of the beach more irregular;
while on the other side it moulders away transversely to the direction of
the dip, leaving holes, in which water lodges, and hastens decomposition by
entering deeply into the interstices. Water, air, and frost decompose the
rock, and form a soil, which, if not too much exposed to the wind, is soon
occupied by vegetation.
The rugged faces of the cliffs, on the southern shore, caused by the rock
decomposing across the grain, collect sand and mud; and hence it happens
that anchorages are frequently found on one side, whilst, on the other, the
anchor will not hold, from the steepness of the ground; there being nothing
upon the smooth declivity to retain mud and sand before it gets to the
bottom; which, in most cases known to me, lies far beyond the reach of the
anchor.
After a tedious and difficult passage through the Gabriel Channel, we
anchored in a snug harbour within the entrance of Magdalen Channel, on the
west side, under a peaked hill called by Sarmiento 'El Vernal,'--in our
plan, the 'Sugar-loaf.' The entrance is about a quarter of a mile wide; but
after a few hundred yards the harbour opens, extending in for nearly a
mile. It is of easy depth; seven fathoms in the entrance, and four, five,
and six fathoms within; so that it is {61} very convenient for a small
vessel: to us, indeed, it was a most welcome discovery. The land rises,
around this cove, to the height of two or three thousand feet. It is
covered with Beech, and Winter's-bark, and near the water is adorned with
large groves of Fuchsia, Berberis, and the common shrubs of Port Famine,
growing so thickly as to form an almost impenetrable jungle; but,
notwithstanding the picturesque character of its scenery, the towering
height of the hills, which exclude the sun's rays for the whole day, during
the greater portion of the year, renders it a gloomy and melancholy
spot.[55]
We found a family of Fuegians in the inner harbour. Three canoes were
hauled up on the beach, but their owners were not at first visible. At
last, after our repeatedly calling out 'Ho-say, ho-say,' they appeared,
and, rather reluctantly, invited us, by signs, to land. There seemed to be
fourteen or fifteen people, and seven or eight dogs. Mr. Wickham and Mr.
Tarn went on shore to these natives, who exhibited some timidity, until a
hideous old woman began to chatter, and soon made them understand that the
young men (L[=a]-[=a]-pas) were absent on a hunting excursion, but were
every moment expected to return. There were only three men with the women
and children. To inspire them with confidence in our good intentions, Mr.
Wickham gave each man a red cap, and some other trifles. One of them
complained of being sick, but I rather imagine his illness was feigned, and
the others did not at all seem to like our visit. By degrees their fears
subsided, and, restraint being laid aside, an active trade began; in which
several otter skins, shell-necklaces, spears, and other trifles, were
obtained from them in exchange for beads, buttons, medals, &c. The otters
are caught by the help of dogs, on which account, principally, the latter
are so valuable.
These people were slightly clothed with skins of the seal and otter, but
some had pieces of guanaco mantles over their shoulders, whence we supposed
that they were either of the same tribe, or at peace, with the Indians of
Admiralty Sound: {62} unless, indeed, they trade with the Patagonian
Indians; but such is the poverty of the Fuegians, they can scarcely possess
any thing of value sufficient to exchange with the goods of their northern
neighbours, unless it be iron pyrites, which I think is not found in the
open country inhabited by the Patagonian Indians, and, from the facility
with which it yields sparks of fire, must be an object of importance.
We were not a little amused by the surprise which these natives showed at
the things in our possession, and by the effect produced in their
countenances when they saw any thing extraordinary: the expression was not
that of joy or surprise, but a sort of vacant, stupified, stare at each
other. They must have been very suspicious of our intentions, or very much
excited by what they had seen during the day, as throughout the night an
incessant chattering of voices was heard on shore, interrupted only by the
barking of their dogs.
Looking down the Magdalen Inlet, we saw two openings, which, while the
hills were enveloped in mist, had the appearance of being channels. We
proceeded for some distance into the more westerly of the two, but found
that it was merely a sound, terminated by high land. The boat was then
steered under a steep mass of black mountainous land,[56] the summit of
which is divided into three peaks, which Sarmiento called 'El Pan de Azucar
de los Boquerones' (the Sugar-loaf of the Openings). We ran southward,
fifteen miles down this sound, and reached the Labyrinth Islands; but
finding there no suitable anchorage, resumed our course towards the bottom
of what we thought another sound, terminated by mountains. At noon, the
furthest point, on the west shore, which we called Cape Turn, was within
three miles of us, and we should soon have discovered the continuation of
the channel (as it has since been proved); but a breeze set in from the
S.W., and in a short time it blew so strong as to oblige us to turn back.
'Williwaws' and baffling eddy winds kept us seven hours under Mount
Boqueron. These squalls were at first alarming, but by taking in all sail,
before they passed, we sustained no injury. At {63} sunset we were abreast
of Hope Harbour, in which we purposed taking shelter from the gale. Our
late neighbours, the Indians, had lighted a fire at the entrance to invite
our return; but wind and tide were against us, and as we knew of no port to
leeward, our only resource was to run out of the sound. Furious squalls
carried us into the true, or steady, wind, which we found very strong; and
as Port San Antonio was on the lee-bow, we had to carry such a press of
sail, that our excellent boat had nearly half the lee side of her deck
under water. By daylight we got into smooth water, and, with less wind and
better weather, steered for Port Famine. The smoother water enabled us to
light a fire and cook a meal, not an unimportant affair, as we had eaten
nothing since six o'clock on the preceding morning.
In our absence Mr. Graves had surveyed Lomas Bay, and, after his return,
Mr. Ainsworth had crossed the Strait with the gig and cutter to survey Port
San Antonio. They were victualled for five days; the gig was manned by my
own boat's crew, and the cutter by volunteers: but although they had not
come back, we felt no anxiety about their safety, being assured that Mr.
Ainsworth would not run the risk of crossing the Strait during bad weather.
The tempestuous state of the two following days, however, made us uneasy,
and on the third morning, when the wind moderated much, we looked out
anxiously for their arrival. In the evening the cutter returned; but, alas!
with the melancholy information of the loss of Mr. Ainsworth, and two
seamen, drowned by the upsetting of the gig. One of the latter was my
excellent coxswain, John Corkhill. The remainder of the gig's crew were
only rescued from drowning by the strenuous exertions of those in the
cutter.
Mr. Ainsworth, anxious to return to the ship, thought too little of the
difficulty and danger of crossing the Strait during unsettled weather. He
set out from Port San Antonio under sail, and, while sheltered by the land,
did very well; but as soon as they got into the offing, both wind and sea
increased so much that the gig was in great danger, although under only a
small close-reefed sail.
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The people in the cutter were anxiously watching her labouring movements,
when she disappeared! They hastened to the spot--saved three men; but the
other two had gone down. Poor Ainsworth was still clinging to the gig's
gunwale when his shipmates eagerly approached; but letting go his hold from
extreme exhaustion, and being heavily clothed, he sunk from their sight to
rise no more.
He had been cheering the drowning crew, and trying to save his companions,
till the moment his grasp relaxed. Just before Ainsworth himself let go,
Mr. Hodgskin lost his hold, exclaiming, Ainsworth, save me! when, exhausted
as he was, with one hand he rescued his friend, and, directly afterwards,
his strength failing, sunk.
This addition of three people to the already loaded cutter, made her cargo
more than was safe, therefore Mr. Williams, who commanded her, very
prudently bore up for the first convenient landing-place, and happily
succeeded in reaching the only part of the beach, between Lomas Bay and
Cape Valentyn, where a boat could land.
The following morning, the weather being more favourable, they crossed
under sail to Freshwater Bay, and thence pulled to Port Famine.
This melancholy disaster was much felt by every one. Ainsworth was a
deserving officer, and highly esteemed. Corkhill was captain of the
forecastle, and had served in the Polar voyages under Sir Edward Parry. On
the Sunday following, the colours were hoisted half-mast high, and the
funeral service was read after morning prayers: for although to recover the
bodies was impossible, their watery grave was before our eyes; and the
performance of this last sad duty was a melancholy satisfaction.
"Ours are the tears, tho' few, sincerely shed,
When ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead."
A tablet was subsequently erected, on Point St. Anna, to record this fatal
accident.
* * * * *
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