Tierra del Fuego, first arrival—Good Success Bay—An account of the
Fuegians on board—Interview with the savages—Scenery of the
forests—Cape Horn—Wigwam Cove—Miserable condition of the
savages—Famines—Cannibals—Matricide—Religious feelings—Great
gale—Beagle Channel—Ponsonby Sound—Build wigwams and settle the
Fuegians—Bifurcation of the Beagle Channel—Glaciers—Return to the
ship—Second visit in the ship to the settlement—Equality of condition
amongst the natives.
TIERRA DEL FUEGO.
_December_ 17_th_, 1832.—Having now finished with Patagonia and the
Falkland Islands, I will describe our first arrival in Tierra del
Fuego. A little after noon we doubled Cape St. Diego, and entered the
famous Strait of Le Maire. We kept close to the Fuegian shore, but the
outline of the rugged, inhospitable Staten-land was visible amidst the
clouds. In the afternoon we anchored in the Bay of Good Success. While
entering we were saluted in a manner becoming the inhabitants of this
savage land. A group of Fuegians partly concealed by the entangled
forest, were perched on a wild point overhanging the
sea; and as we passed by, they sprang up and waving their tattered
cloaks sent forth a loud and sonorous shout. The savages followed the
ship, and just before dark we saw their fire, and again heard their
wild cry. The harbour consists of a fine piece of water half surrounded
by low rounded mountains of clay-slate, which are covered to the
water’s edge by one dense gloomy forest. A single glance at the
landscape was sufficient to show me how widely different it was from
anything I had ever beheld. At night it blew a gale of wind, and heavy
squalls from the mountains swept past us. It would have been a bad time
out at sea, and we, as well as others, may call this Good Success Bay.
In the morning the Captain sent a party to communicate with the
Fuegians. When we came within hail, one of the four natives who were
present advanced to receive us, and began to shout most vehemently,
wishing to direct us where to land. When we were on shore the party
looked rather alarmed, but continued talking and making gestures with
great rapidity. It was without exception the most curious and
interesting spectacle I ever beheld: I could not have believed how wide
was the difference between savage and civilised man: it is greater than
between a wild and domesticated animal, inasmuch as in man there is a
greater power of improvement. The chief spokesman was old, and appeared
to be the head of the family; the three others were powerful young men,
about six feet high. The women and children had been sent away. These
Fuegians are a very different race from the stunted, miserable wretches
farther westward; and they seem closely allied to the famous
Patagonians of the Strait of Magellan. Their only garment consists of a
mantle made of guanaco skin, with the wool outside: this they wear just
thrown over their shoulders, leaving their persons as often exposed as
covered. Their skin is of a dirty coppery-red colour.
The old man had a fillet of white feathers tied round his head, which
partly confined his black, coarse, and entangled hair. His face was
crossed by two broad transverse bars; one, painted bright red, reached
from ear to ear and included the upper lip; the other, white like
chalk, extended above and parallel to the first, so that even his
eyelids were thus coloured. The other two men were ornamented by
streaks of black powder, made of
charcoal. The party altogether closely resembled the devils which come
on the stage in plays like Der Freischutz.
Their very attitudes were abject, and the expression of their
countenances distrustful, surprised, and startled. After we had
presented them with some scarlet cloth, which they immediately tied
round their necks, they became good friends. This was shown by the old
man patting our breasts, and making a chuckling kind of noise, as
people do when feeding chickens. I walked with the old man, and this
demonstration of friendship was repeated several times; it was
concluded by three hard slaps, which were given me on the breast and
back at the same time. He then bared his bosom for me to return the
compliment, which being done, he seemed highly pleased. The language of
these people, according to our notions, scarcely deserves to be called
articulate. Captain Cook has compared it to a man clearing his throat,
but certainly no European ever cleared his throat with so many hoarse,
guttural, and clicking sounds.
They are excellent mimics: as often as we coughed or yawned, or made
any odd motion, they immediately imitated us. Some of our party began
to squint and look awry; but one of the young Fuegians (whose whole
face was painted black, excepting a white band across his eyes)
succeeded in making far more hideous grimaces. They could repeat with
perfect correctness each word in any sentence we addressed them, and
they remembered such words for some time. Yet we Europeans all know how
difficult it is to distinguish apart the sounds in a foreign language.
Which of us, for instance, could follow an American Indian through a
sentence of more than three words? All savages appear to possess, to an
uncommon degree, this power of mimicry. I was told, almost in the same
words, of the same ludicrous habit among the Caffres; the Australians,
likewise, have long been notorious for being able to imitate and
describe the gait of any man, so that he may be recognised. How can
this faculty be explained? is it a consequence of the more practised
habits of perception and keener senses, common to all men in a savage
state, as compared with those long civilised?
When a song was struck up by our party, I thought the Fuegians would
have fallen down with astonishment. With equal surprise they viewed our
dancing; but one of the young men, when asked, had no objection to a
little waltzing. Little
accustomed to Europeans as they appeared to be, yet they knew and
dreaded our firearms; nothing would tempt them to take a gun in their
hands. They begged for knives, calling them by the Spanish word
“cuchilla.” They explained also what they wanted, by acting as if they
had a piece of blubber in their mouth, and then pretending to cut
instead of tear it.
I have not as yet noticed the Fuegians whom we had on board. During the
former voyage of the _Adventure_ and _Beagle_ in 1826 to 1830, Captain
Fitz Roy seized on a party of natives, as hostages for the loss of a
boat, which had been stolen, to the great jeopardy of a party employed
on the survey; and some of these natives, as well as a child whom he
bought for a pearl-button, he took with him to England, determining to
educate them and instruct them in religion at his own expense. To
settle these natives in their own country was one chief inducement to
Captain Fitz Roy to undertake our present voyage; and before the
Admiralty had resolved to send out this expedition, Captain Fitz Roy
had generously chartered a vessel, and would himself have taken them
back. The natives were accompanied by a missionary, R. Matthews; of
whom and of the natives, Captain Fitz Roy has published a full and
excellent account. Two men, one of whom died in England of the
smallpox, a boy and a little girl, were originally taken; and we had
now on board, York Minster, Jemmy Button (whose name expresses his
purchase-money), and Fuegia Basket. York Minster was a full-grown,
short, thick, powerful man: his disposition was reserved, taciturn,
morose, and when excited violently passionate; his affections were very
strong towards a few friends on board; his intellect good. Jemmy Button
was a universal favourite, but likewise passionate; the expression of
his face at once showed his nice disposition. He was merry and often
laughed, and was remarkably sympathetic with any one in pain: when the
water was rough, I was often a little sea-sick, and he used to come to
me and say in a plaintive voice, “Poor, poor fellow!” but the notion,
after his aquatic life, of a man being sea-sick, was too ludicrous, and
he was generally obliged to turn on one side to hide a smile or laugh,
and then he would repeat his “Poor, poor fellow!” He was of a patriotic
disposition; and he liked to praise his own tribe and country, in which
he truly said there were “plenty of trees,” and he abused all the other
tribes: he stoutly declared that there
was no Devil in his land. Jemmy was short, thick, and fat, but vain of
his personal appearance; he used always to wear gloves, his hair was
neatly cut, and he was distressed if his well-polished shoes were
dirtied. He was fond of admiring himself in a looking glass; and a
merry-faced little Indian boy from the Rio Negro, whom we had for some
months on board, soon perceived this, and used to mock him: Jemmy, who
was always rather jealous of the attention paid to this little boy, did
not at all like this, and used to say, with rather a contemptuous twist
of his head, “Too much skylark.” It seems yet wonderful to me, when I
think over all his many good qualities, that he should have been of the
same race, and doubtless partaken of the same character, with the
miserable, degraded savages whom we first met here. Lastly, Fuegia
Basket was a nice, modest, reserved young girl, with a rather pleasing
but sometimes sullen expression, and very quick in learning anything,
especially languages. This she showed in picking up some Portuguese and
Spanish, when left on shore for only a short time at Rio de Janeiro and
Monte Video, and in her knowledge of English. York Minster was very
jealous of any attention paid to her; for it was clear he determined to
marry her as soon as they were settled on shore.
Although all three could both speak and understand a good deal of
English, it was singularly difficult to obtain much information from
them concerning the habits of their countrymen; this was partly owing
to their apparent difficulty in understanding the simplest alternative.
Every one accustomed to very young children knows how seldom one can
get an answer even to so simple a question as whether a thing is black
_or_ white; the idea of black or white seems alternately to fill their
minds. So it was with these Fuegians, and hence it was generally
impossible to find out, by cross-questioning, whether one had rightly
understood anything which they had asserted. Their sight was remarkably
acute; it is well known that sailors, from long practice, can make out
a distant object much better than a landsman; but both York and Jemmy
were much superior to any sailor on board: several times they have
declared what some distant object has been, and though doubted by every
one, they have proved right when it has been examined through a
telescope. They were quite conscious of this power; and Jemmy, when he
had any little quarrel
with the officer on watch, would say, “Me see ship, me no tell.”
It was interesting to watch the conduct of the savages, when we landed,
towards Jemmy Button: they immediately perceived the difference between
him and ourselves, and held much conversation one with another on the
subject. The old man addressed a long harangue to Jemmy, which it seems
was to invite him to stay with them. But Jemmy understood very little
of their language, and was, moreover, thoroughly ashamed of his
countrymen. When York Minster afterwards came on shore, they noticed
him in the same way, and told him he ought to shave; yet he had not
twenty dwarf hairs on his face, whilst we all wore our untrimmed
beards. They examined the colour of his skin, and compared it with
ours. One of our arms being bared, they expressed the liveliest
surprise and admiration at its whiteness, just in the same way in which
I have seen the ourang-outang do at the Zoological Gardens. We thought
that they mistook two or three of the officers, who were rather shorter
and fairer, though adorned with large beards, for the ladies of our
party. The tallest amongst the Fuegians was evidently much pleased at
his height being noticed. When placed back to back with the tallest of
the boat’s crew, he tried his best to edge on higher ground, and to
stand on tiptoe. He opened his mouth to show his teeth, and turned his
face for a side view; and all this was done with such alacrity, that I
daresay he thought himself the handsomest man in Tierra del Fuego.
After our first feeling of grave astonishment was over, nothing could
be more ludicrous than the odd mixture of surprise and imitation which
these savages every moment exhibited.
The next day I attempted to penetrate some way into the country. Tierra
del Fuego may be described as a mountainous land, partly submerged in
the sea, so that deep inlets and bays occupy the place where valleys
should exist. The mountain sides, except on the exposed western coast,
are covered from the water’s edge upwards by one great forest. The
trees reach to an elevation of between 1000 and 1500 feet, and are
succeeded by a band of peat, with minute alpine plants; and this again
is succeeded by the line of perpetual snow, which,
according to Captain King, in the Strait of Magellan descends to
between 3000 and 4000 feet. To find an acre of level land in any part
of the country is most rare. I recollect only one little flat piece
near Port Famine, and another of rather larger extent near Goeree Road.
In both places, and everywhere else, the surface is covered by a thick
bed of swampy peat. Even within the forest, the ground is concealed by
a mass of slowly putrefying vegetable matter, which, from being soaked
with water, yields to the foot.
Finding it nearly hopeless to push my way through the wood, I followed
the course of a mountain torrent. At first, from the waterfalls and
number of dead trees, I could hardly crawl along; but the bed of the
stream soon became a little more open, from the floods having swept the
sides. I continued slowly to advance for an hour along the broken and
rocky banks, and was amply repaid by the grandeur of the scene. The
gloomy depth of the ravine well accorded with the universal signs of
violence. On every side were lying irregular masses of rock and torn-up
trees; other trees, though still erect, were decayed to the heart and
ready to fall. The entangled mass of the thriving and the fallen
reminded me of the forests within the tropics—yet there was a
difference: for in these still solitudes, Death, instead of Life,
seemed the predominant spirit. I followed the watercourse till I came
to a spot where a great slip had cleared a straight space down the
mountain side. By this road I ascended to a considerable elevation, and
obtained a good view of the surrounding woods. The trees all belong to
one kind, the Fagus betuloides; for the number of the other species of
Fagus and of the Winter’s Bark is quite inconsiderable. This beech
keeps its leaves throughout the year; but its foliage is of a peculiar
brownish-green colour, with a tinge of yellow. As the whole landscape
is thus coloured, it has a sombre, dull appearance; nor is it often
enlivened by the rays of the sun.
_December_ 20_th._—One side of the harbour is formed by a hill about
1500 feet high, which Captain Fitz Roy has called after Sir J. Banks,
in commemoration of his disastrous excursion which proved fatal to two
men of his party, and nearly so to Dr. Solander. The snow-storm, which
was the cause of their misfortune, happened in the middle of January,
corresponding
to our July, and in the latitude of Durham! I was anxious to reach the
summit of this mountain to collect alpine plants; for flowers of any
kind in the lower parts are few in number. We followed the same
watercourse as on the previous day, till it dwindled away, and we were
then compelled to crawl blindly among the trees. These, from the
effects of the elevation and of the impetuous winds, were low, thick
and crooked. At length we reached that which from a distance appeared
like a carpet of fine green turf, but which, to our vexation, turned
out to be a compact mass of little beech-trees about four or five feet
high. They were as thick together as box in the border of a garden, and
we were obliged to struggle over the flat but treacherous surface.
After a little more trouble we gained the peat, and then the bare slate
rock.
Cape Horn
A ridge connected this hill with another, distant some miles, and more
lofty, so that patches of snow were lying on it. As the day was not far
advanced, I determined to walk there and collect plants along the road.
It would have been very hard work, had it not been for a well-beaten
and straight path made by the guanacos; for these animals, like sheep,
always follow the same line. When we reached the hill we found it the
highest in the immediate neighbourhood, and the waters flowed to the
sea in opposite directions. We obtained a wide view over the
surrounding country: to the north a swampy moorland extended, but to
the south we had a scene of savage
magnificence, well becoming Tierra del Fuego. There was a degree of
mysterious grandeur in mountain behind mountain, with the deep
intervening valleys, all covered by one thick, dusky mass of forest.
The atmosphere, likewise, in this climate, where gale succeeds gale,
with rain, hail, and sleet, seems blacker than anywhere else. In the
Strait of Magellan, looking due southward from Port Famine, the distant
channels between the mountains appeared from their gloominess to lead
beyond the confines of this world.
Cape Horn (another view)
_December_ 21_st._—The _Beagle_ got under way: and on the succeeding
day, favoured to an uncommon degree by a fine easterly breeze, we
closed in with the Barnevelts, and running past Cape Deceit with its
stony peaks, about three o’clock doubled the weather-beaten Cape Horn.
The evening was calm and bright, and we enjoyed a fine view of the
surrounding isles. Cape Horn, however, demanded his tribute, and before
night sent us a gale of wind directly in our teeth. We stood out to
sea, and on the second day again made the land, when we saw on our
weather-bow this notorious promontory in its proper form—veiled in a
mist, and its dim outline surrounded by a storm of wind and water.
Great black clouds were rolling across the heavens, and squalls of
rain, with hail, swept by us with such extreme violence, that the
Captain determined to run into Wigwam Cove. This is a snug little
harbour, not far from Cape Horn; and here, at Christmas-eve, we
anchored in
smooth water. The only thing which reminded us of the gale outside was
every now and then a puff from the mountains, which made the ship surge
at her anchors.
_December_ 25_th._—Close by the cove, a pointed hill, called Kater’s
Peak, rises to the height of 1700 feet. The surrounding islands all
consist of conical masses of greenstone, associated sometimes with less
regular hills of baked and altered clay-slate. This part of Tierra del
Fuego may be considered as the extremity of the submerged chain of
mountains already alluded to. The cove takes its name of “Wigwam” from
some of the Fuegian habitations; but every bay in the neighbourhood
might be so called with equal propriety. The inhabitants, living
chiefly upon shell-fish, are obliged constantly to change their place
of residence; but they return at intervals to the same spots, as is
evident from the piles of old shells, which must often amount to many
tons in weight. These heaps can be distinguished at a long distance by
the bright green colour of certain plants, which invariably grow on
them. Among these may be enumerated the wild celery and scurvy grass,
two very serviceable plants, the use of which has not been discovered
by the natives.
The Fuegian wigwam resembles, in size and dimensions, a haycock. It
merely consists of a few broken branches stuck in the ground, and very
imperfectly thatched on one side with a few tufts of grass and rushes.
The whole cannot be the work of an hour, and it is only used for a few
days. At Goeree Roads I saw a place where one of these naked men had
slept, which absolutely offered no more cover than the form of a hare.
The man was evidently living by himself, and York Minster said he was
“very bad man,” and that probably he had stolen something. On the west
coast, however, the wigwams are rather better, for they are covered
with seal-skins. We were detained here several days by the bad weather.
The climate is certainly wretched: the summer solstice was now past,
yet every day snow fell on the hills, and in the valleys there was
rain, accompanied by sleet. The thermometer generally stood about 45°,
but in the night fell to 38° or 40°. From the damp and boisterous state
of the atmosphere, not cheered by a gleam of sunshine, one fancied the
climate even worse than it really was.
While going one day on shore near Wollaston Island, we
pulled alongside a canoe with six Fuegians. These were the most abject
and miserable creatures I anywhere beheld. On the east coast the
natives, as we have seen, have guanaco cloaks, and on the west they
possess seal-skins. Amongst these central tribes the men generally have
an otter-skin, or some small scrap about as large as a
pocket-handkerchief, which is barely sufficient to cover their backs as
low down as their loins. It is laced across the breast by strings, and
according as the wind blows, it is shifted from side to side. But these
Fuegians in the canoe were quite naked, and even one full-grown woman
was absolutely so. It was raining heavily, and the fresh water,
together with the spray, trickled down her body. In another harbour not
far distant, a woman, who was suckling a recently-born child, came one
day alongside the vessel, and remained there out of mere curiosity,
whilst the sleet fell and thawed on her naked bosom, and on the skin of
her naked baby! These poor wretches were stunted in their growth, their
hideous faces bedaubed with white paint, their skins filthy and greasy,
their hair entangled, their voices discordant, and their gestures
violent. Viewing such men, one can hardly make oneself believe that
they are fellow-creatures, and inhabitants of the same world. It is a
common subject of conjecture what pleasure in life some of the lower
animals can enjoy: how much more reasonably the same question may be
asked with respect to these barbarians! At night five or six human
beings, naked and scarcely protected from the wind and rain of this
tempestuous climate, sleep on the wet ground coiled up like animals.
Whenever it is low water, winter or summer, night or day, they must
rise to pick shellfish from the rocks; and the women either dive to
collect sea-eggs, or sit patiently in their canoes, and with a baited
hair-line without any hook, jerk out little fish. If a seal is killed,
or the floating carcass of a putrid whale is discovered, it is a feast;
and such miserable food is assisted by a few tasteless berries and
fungi.
They often suffer from famine: I heard Mr. Low, a sealing-master
intimately acquainted with the natives of this country, give a curious
account of the state of a party of one hundred and fifty natives on the
west coast, who were very thin and in great distress. A succession of
gales prevented the women from getting shell-fish on the rocks, and
they could not go out in
their canoes to catch seal. A small party of these men one morning set
out, and the other Indians explained to him that they were going a four
days’ journey for food: on their return, Low went to meet them, and he
found them excessively tired, each man carrying a great square piece of
putrid whales-blubber with a hole in the middle, through which they put
their heads, like the Gauchos do through their ponchos or cloaks. As
soon as the blubber was brought into a wigwam, an old man cut off thin
slices, and muttering over them, broiled them for a minute, and
distributed them to the famished party, who during this time preserved
a profound silence. Mr. Low believes that whenever a whale is cast on
shore, the natives bury large pieces of it in the sand, as a resource
in time of famine; and a native boy, whom he had on board, once found a
stock thus buried. The different tribes when at war are cannibals. From
the concurrent, but quite independent evidence of the boy taken by Mr.
Low, and of Jemmy Button, it is certainly true, that when pressed in
winter by hunger they kill and devour their old women before they kill
their dogs: the boy, being asked by Mr. Low why they did this,
answered, “Doggies catch otters, old women no.” This boy described the
manner in which they are killed by being held over smoke and thus
choked; he imitated their screams as a joke, and described the parts of
their bodies which are considered best to eat. Horrid as such a death
by the hands of their friends and relatives must be, the fears of the
old women, when hunger begins to press, are more painful to think of;
we were told that they then often run away into the mountains, but that
they are pursued by the men and brought back to the slaughter-house at
their own firesides!
Captain Fitz Roy could never ascertain that the Fuegians have any
distinct belief in a future life. They sometimes bury their dead in
caves, and sometimes in the mountain forests; we do not know what
ceremonies they perform. Jemmy Button would not eat land-birds, because
“eat dead men”; they are unwilling even to mention their dead friends.
We have no reason to believe that they perform any sort of religious
worship; though perhaps the muttering of the old man before he
distributed the putrid blubber to his famished party may be of this
nature. Each family or tribe has a wizard or conjuring doctor, whose
office we could never clearly ascertain. Jemmy believed in dreams,
though not, as I have said, in the devil: I do not think that our
Fuegians were much more superstitious than some of the sailors; for an
old quartermaster firmly believed that the successive heavy gales,
which we encountered off Cape Horn, were caused by our having the
Fuegians on board. The nearest approach to a religious feeling which I
heard of, was shown by York Minster, who, when Mr. Bynoe shot some very
young ducklings as specimens, declared in the most solemn manner, “Oh,
Mr. Bynoe, much rain, snow, blow much.” This was evidently a
retributive punishment for wasting human food. In a wild and excited
manner he also related that his brother one day, whilst returning to
pick up some dead birds which he had left on the coast, observed some
feathers blown by the wind. His brother said (York imitating his
manner), “What that?” and crawling onwards, he peeped over the cliff,
and saw “wild man” picking his birds; he crawled a little nearer, and
then hurled down a great stone and killed him. York declared for a long
time afterwards storms raged, and much rain and snow fell. As far as we
could make out, he seemed to consider the elements themselves as the
avenging agents: it is evident in this case, how naturally, in a race a
little more advanced in culture, the elements would become personified.
What the “bad wild men” were, has always appeared to me most
mysterious: from what York said, when we found the place like the form
of a hare, where a single man had slept the night before, I should have
thought that they were thieves who had been driven from their tribes;
but other obscure speeches made me doubt this; I have sometimes
imagined that the most probable explanation was that they were insane.
The different tribes have no government or chief; yet each is
surrounded by other hostile tribes, speaking different dialects, and
separated from each other only by a deserted border or neutral
territory: the cause of their warfare appears to be the means of
subsistence. Their country is a broken mass of wild rocks, lofty hills,
and useless forests: and these are viewed through mists and endless
storms. The habitable land is reduced to the stones on the beach; in
search of food they are compelled unceasingly to wander from spot to
spot, and so steep is the coast, that they can only move about in their
wretched canoes. They cannot know the feeling of having a home, and
still less that of domestic affection; for the husband is to the wife a
brutal master to a laborious slave. Was a more horrid deed ever
perpetrated, than that witnessed on the west coast by Byron, who saw a
wretched mother pick up her bleeding dying infant-boy, whom her husband
had mercilessly dashed on the stones for dropping a basket of sea-eggs!
How little can the higher powers of the mind be brought into play: what
is there for imagination to picture, for reason to compare, for
judgment to decide upon? to knock a limpet from the rock does not
require even cunning, that lowest power of the mind. Their skill in
some respects may be compared to the instinct of animals; for it is not
improved by experience: the canoe, their most ingenious work, poor as
it is, has remained the same, as we know from Drake, for the last two
hundred and fifty years.
Whilst beholding these savages, one asks, Whence have they come? What
could have tempted, or what change compelled, a tribe of men, to leave
the fine regions of the north, to travel down the Cordillera or
backbone of America, to invent and build canoes, which are not used by
the tribes of Chile, Peru, and Brazil, and then to enter on one of the
most inhospitable countries within the limits of the globe? Although
such reflections must at first seize on the mind, yet we may feel sure
that they are partly erroneous. There is no reason to believe that the
Fuegians decrease in number; therefore we must suppose that they enjoy
a sufficient share of happiness, of whatever kind it may be, to render
life worth having. Nature by making habit omnipotent, and its effects
hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian to the climate and the productions
of his miserable country.
Bad weather, Magellan Straits
After having been detained six days in Wigwam Cove by very bad weather,
we put to sea on the 30th of December. Captain Fitz Roy wished to get
westward to land York and Fuegia in their own country. When at sea we
had a constant succession of gales, and the current was against us: we
drifted to 57° 23′ south. On the 11th of January, 1833, by carrying a
press of sail, we fetched within a few miles of the great rugged
mountain of York Minster (so called by Captain Cook, and the origin of
the name of the elder Fuegian), when a violent squall
compelled us to shorten sail and stand out to sea. The surf was
breaking fearfully on the coast, and the spray was carried over a cliff
estimated at 200 feet in height. On the 12th the gale was very heavy,
and we did not know exactly where we were: it was a most unpleasant
sound to hear constantly repeated, “Keep a good lookout to leeward.” On
the 13th the storm raged with its full fury: our horizon was narrowly
limited by the sheets of spray borne by the wind. The sea looked
ominous, like a dreary waving plain with patches of drifted snow:
whilst the ship laboured heavily, the albatross glided with its
expanded wings right up the wind. At noon a great sea broke over us,
and filled one of the whale-boats, which was obliged to be instantly
cut away. The poor _Beagle_ trembled at the shock, and for a few
minutes would not obey her helm; but soon, like a good ship that she
was, she righted and came up to the wind again. Had another sea
followed the first, our fate would have been decided soon, and for
ever. We had now been twenty-four days trying in vain to get westward;
the men were worn out with fatigue, and they had not had for many
nights or days a dry thing to put on. Captain Fitz Roy gave up the
attempt to get westward by the outside coast. In the evening we ran in
behind False Cape Horn, and
dropped our anchor in forty-seven fathoms, fire flashing from the
windlass as the chain rushed round it. How delightful was that still
night, after having been so long involved in the din of the warring
elements!
Fuegian basket and bone weapons
_January_ 15, 1833.—The _Beagle_ anchored in Goeree Roads. Captain Fitz
Roy having resolved to settle the Fuegians, according to their wishes,
in Ponsonby Sound, four boats were equipped to carry them there through
the Beagle Channel. This channel, which was discovered by Captain Fitz
Roy during the last voyage, is a most remarkable feature in the
geography of this, or indeed of any other country: it may be compared
to the valley of Loch Ness in Scotland, with its chain of lakes and
friths. It is about one hundred and twenty miles long, with an average
breadth, not subject to any very great variation, of about two miles;
and is throughout the greater part so perfectly straight, that the
view, bounded on each side by a line of mountains, gradually becomes
indistinct in the long distance. It crosses the southern part of Tierra
del Fuego in an east and west line, and in the middle is joined at
right angles on the south side by an irregular channel, which has been
called Ponsonby Sound. This is the residence of Jemmy Button’s tribe
and family.
19_th._—Three whale-boats and the yawl, with a party of
twenty-eight, started under the command of Captain Fitz Roy. In the
afternoon we entered the eastern mouth of the channel, and shortly
afterwards found a snug little cove concealed by some surrounding
islets. Here we pitched our tents and lighted our fires. Nothing could
look more comfortable than this scene. The glassy water of the little
harbour, with the branches of the trees hanging over the rocky beach,
the boats at anchor, the tents supported by the crossed oars, and the
smoke curling up the wooded valley, formed a picture of quiet
retirement. The next day (20th) we smoothly glided onwards in our
little fleet, and came to a more inhabited district. Few if any of
these natives could ever have seen a white man; certainly nothing could
exceed their astonishment at the apparition of the four boats. Fires
were lighted on every point (hence the name of Tierra del Fuego, or the
land of fire), both to attract our attention and to spread far and wide
the news. Some of the men ran for miles along the shore. I shall never
forget how wild and savage one group appeared: suddenly four or five
men came to the edge of an overhanging cliff; they were absolutely
naked, and their long hair streamed about their faces; they held rugged
staffs in their hands, and, springing from the ground, they waved their
arms round their heads, and sent forth the most hideous yells.
At dinner-time we landed among a party of Fuegians. At first they were
not inclined to be friendly; for until the Captain pulled in ahead of
the other boats, they kept their slings in their hands. We soon,
however, delighted them by trifling presents, such as tying red tape
round their heads. They liked our biscuit: but one of the savages
touched with his finger some of the meat preserved in tin cases which I
was eating, and feeling it soft and cold, showed as much disgust at it,
as I should have done at putrid blubber. Jemmy was thoroughly ashamed
of his countrymen, and declared his own tribe were quite different, in
which he was woefully mistaken. It was as easy to please as it was
difficult to satisfy these savages. Young and old, men and children,
never ceased repeating the word “yammerschooner,” which means “give
me.” After pointing to almost every object, one after the other, even
to the buttons on our coats, and saying their favourite word in as many
intonations as possible, they would then use it in a neuter sense, and
vacantly repeat “yammerschooner.” After yammerschoonering for any
article very
eagerly, they would by a simple artifice point to their young women or
little children, as much as to say, “If you will not give it me, surely
you will to such as these.”
At night we endeavoured in vain to find an uninhabited cove; and at
last were obliged to bivouac not far from a party of natives. They were
very inoffensive as long as they were few in numbers, but in the
morning (21st) being joined by others they showed symptoms of
hostility, and we thought that we should have come to a skirmish. An
European labours under great disadvantages when treating with savages
like these who have not the least idea of the power of firearms. In the
very act of levelling his musket he appears to the savage far inferior
to a man armed with a bow and arrow, a spear, or even a sling. Nor is
it easy to teach them our superiority except by striking a fatal blow.
Like wild beasts, they do not appear to compare numbers; for each
individual, if attacked, instead of retiring, will endeavour to dash
your brains out with a stone, as certainly as a tiger under similar
circumstances would tear you. Captain Fitz Roy, on one occasion being
very anxious, from good reasons, to frighten away a small party, first
flourished a cutlass near them, at which they only laughed; he then
twice fired his pistol close to a native. The man both times looked
astounded, and carefully but quickly rubbed his head; he then stared
awhile, and gabbled to his companions, but he never seemed to think of
running away. We can hardly put ourselves in the position of these
savages, and understand their actions. In the case of this Fuegian, the
possibility of such a sound as the report of a gun close to his ear
could never have entered his mind. He perhaps literally did not for a
second know whether it was a sound or a blow, and therefore very
naturally rubbed his head. In a similar manner, when a savage sees a
mark struck by a bullet, it may be some time before he is able at all
to understand how it is effected; for the fact of a body being
invisible from its velocity would perhaps be to him an idea totally
inconceivable. Moreover, the extreme force of a bullet that penetrates
a hard substance without tearing it, may convince the savage that it
has no force at all. Certainly I believe that many savages of the
lowest grade, such as these of Tierra del Fuego, have seen objects
struck, and even small animals killed by the musket,
without being in the least aware how deadly an instrument it is.
22_nd._—After having passed an unmolested night, in what would appear
to be neutral territory between Jemmy’s tribe and the people whom we
saw yesterday, we sailed pleasantly along. I do not know anything which
shows more clearly the hostile state of the different tribes, than
these wide border or neutral tracts. Although Jemmy Button well knew
the force of our party, he was, at first, unwilling to land amidst the
hostile tribe nearest to his own. He often told us how the savage Oens
men “when the leaf red,” crossed the mountains from the eastern coast
of Tierra del Fuego, and made inroads on the natives of this part of
the country. It was most curious to watch him when thus talking, and
see his eyes gleaming and his whole face assume a new and wild
expression. As we proceeded along the Beagle Channel, the scenery
assumed a peculiar and very magnificent character; but the effect was
much lessened from the lowness of the point of view in a boat, and from
looking along the valley, and thus losing all the beauty of a
succession of ridges. The mountains were here about three thousand feet
high, and terminated in sharp and jagged points. They rose in one
unbroken sweep from the water’s edge, and were covered to the height of
fourteen or fifteen hundred feet by the dusky-coloured forest. It was
most curious to observe, as far as the eye could range, how level and
truly horizontal the line on the mountain side was, at which trees
ceased to grow: it precisely resembled the high-water mark of driftweed
on a sea-beach.
At night we slept close to the junction of Ponsonby Sound with the
Beagle Channel. A small family of Fuegians, who were living in the
cove, were quiet and inoffensive, and soon joined our party round a
blazing fire. We were well clothed, and though sitting close to the
fire were far from too warm; yet these naked savages, though farther
off, were observed, to our great surprise, to be streaming with
perspiration at undergoing such a roasting. They seemed, however, very
well pleased, and all joined in the chorus of the seamen’s songs: but
the manner in which they were invariably a little behindhand was quite
ludicrous.
During the night the news had spread, and early in the
morning (23rd) a fresh party arrived, belonging to the Tekenika, or
Jemmy’s tribe. Several of them had run so fast that their noses were
bleeding, and their mouths frothed from the rapidity with which they
talked; and with their naked bodies all bedaubed with black, white,[1]
and red, they looked like so many demoniacs who had been fighting. We
then proceeded (accompanied by twelve canoes, each holding four or five
people) down Ponsonby Sound to the spot where poor Jemmy expected to
find his mother and relatives. He had already heard that his father was
dead; but as he had had a “dream in his head” to that effect, he did
not seem to care much about it, and repeatedly comforted himself with
the very natural reflection—“Me no help it.” He was not able to learn
any particulars regarding his father’s death, as his relations would
not speak about it.
[1] This substance, when dry, is tolerably compact, and of little
specific gravity: Professor Ehrenberg has examined it: he states
(_König Akad. der Wissen:_ Berlin, Feb. 1845) that it is composed of
infusoria, including fourteen polygastrica and four phytolitharia. He
says that they are all inhabitants of fresh water; this is a beautiful
example of the results obtainable through Professor Ehrenberg’s
microscopic researches; for Jemmy Button told me that it is always
collected at the bottoms of mountain-brooks. It is, moreover, a
striking fact in the geographical distribution of the infusoria, which
are well known to have very wide ranges, that all the species in this
substance, although brought from the extreme southern point of Tierra
del Fuego, are old, known forms.
Jemmy was now in a district well known to him, and guided the boats to
a quiet pretty cove named Woollya, surrounded by islets, every one of
which and every point had its proper native name. We found here a
family of Jemmy’s tribe, but not his relations: we made friends with
them; and in the evening they sent a canoe to inform Jemmy’s mother and
brothers. The cove was bordered by some acres of good sloping land, not
covered (as elsewhere) either by peat or by forest-trees. Captain Fitz
Roy originally intended, as before stated, to have taken York Minster
and Fuegia to their own tribe on the west coast; but as they expressed
a wish to remain here, and as the spot was singularly favourable,
Captain Fitz Roy determined to settle here the whole party, including
Matthews, the missionary. Five days were spent in building for them
three large wigwams, in landing their goods, in digging two gardens,
and sowing seeds.
The next morning after our arrival (the 24th) the Fuegians
began to pour in, and Jemmy’s mother and brothers arrived. Jemmy
recognised the stentorian voice of one of his brothers at a prodigious
distance. The meeting was less interesting than that between a horse,
turned out into a field, when he joins an old companion. There was no
demonstration of affection; they simply stared for a short time at each
other; and the mother immediately went to look after her canoe. We
heard, however, through York that the mother had been inconsolable for
the loss of Jemmy, and had searched everywhere for him, thinking that
he might have been left after having been taken in the boat. The women
took much notice of and were very kind to Fuegia. We had already
perceived that Jemmy had almost forgotten his own language. I should
think there was scarcely another human being with so small a stock of
language, for his English was very imperfect. It was laughable, but
almost pitiable, to hear him speak to his wild brother in English, and
then ask him in Spanish (“no sabe?”) whether he did not understand him.
Everything went on peaceably during the three next days, whilst the
gardens were digging and wigwams building. We estimated the number of
natives at about one hundred and twenty. The women worked hard, whilst
the men lounged about all day long, watching us. They asked for
everything they saw, and stole what they could. They were delighted at
our dancing and singing, and were particularly interested at seeing us
wash in a neighbouring brook; they did not pay much attention to
anything else, not even to our boats. Of all the things which York saw,
during his absence from his country, nothing seems more to have
astonished him than an ostrich, near Maldonado: breathless with
astonishment he came running to Mr. Bynoe, with whom he was out
walking—“Oh, Mr. Bynoe, oh, bird all same horse!” Much as our white
skins surprised the natives, by Mr. Low’s account a negro-cook to a
sealing vessel did so more effectually, and the poor fellow was so
mobbed and shouted at that he would never go on shore again. Everything
went on so quietly, that some of the officers and myself took long
walks in the surrounding hills and woods. Suddenly, however, on the
27th, every woman and child disappeared. We were all uneasy at this, as
neither York nor Jemmy could make out the cause. It was thought by some
that they had been frightened by our cleaning and firing off our
muskets on the previous evening: by others, that it was owing to
offence taken by an old savage, who, when told to keep farther off, had
coolly spit in the sentry’s face, and had then, by gestures acted over
a sleeping Fuegian, plainly showed, as it was said, that he should like
to cut up and eat our man. Captain Fitz Roy, to avoid the chance of an
encounter, which would have been fatal to so many of the Fuegians,
thought it advisable for us to sleep at a cove a few miles distant.
Matthews, with his usual quiet fortitude (remarkable in a man
apparently possessing little energy of character), determined to stay
with the Fuegians, who evinced no alarm for themselves; and so we left
them to pass their first awful night.
On our return in the morning (28th) we were delighted to find all
quiet, and the men employed in their canoes spearing fish. Captain Fitz
Roy determined to send the yawl and one whale-boat back to the ship;
and to proceed with the two other boats, one under his own command (in
which he most kindly allowed me to accompany him), and one under Mr.
Hammond, to survey the western parts of the Beagle Channel, and
afterwards to return and visit the settlement. The day to our
astonishment was overpoweringly hot, so that our skins were scorched;
with this beautiful weather, the view in the middle of the Beagle
Channel was very remarkable. Looking towards either hand, no object
intercepted the vanishing points of this long canal between the
mountains. The circumstance of its being an arm of the sea was rendered
very evident by several huge whales[2] spouting in different
directions. On one occasion I saw two of these monsters, probably male
and female, slowly swimming one after the other, within less than a
stone’s throw of the shore, over which the beech-tree extended its
branches.
[2] One day, off the East coast of Tierra del Fuego, we saw a grand
sight in several spermaceti whales jumping upright quite out of the
water, with the exception of their tail-fins. As they fell down
sideways, they splashed the water high up, and the sound reverberated
like a distant broadside.
We sailed on till it was dark, and then pitched our tents in a quiet
creek. The greatest luxury was to find for our beds a beach of pebbles,
for they were dry and yielded to the body. Peaty soil is damp; rock is
uneven and hard; sand gets into one’s meat, when cooked and eaten
boat-fashion; but when lying
in our blanket-bags, on a good bed of smooth pebbles, we passed most
comfortable nights.
It was my watch till one o’clock. There is something very solemn in
these scenes. At no time does the consciousness in what a remote corner
of the world you are then standing come so strongly before the mind.
Everything tends to this effect; the stillness of the night is
interrupted only by the heavy breathing of the seamen beneath the
tents, and sometimes by the cry of a night-bird. The occasional barking
of a dog, heard in the distance, reminds one that it is the land of the
savage.
_January_ 29_th._—Early in the morning we arrived at the point where
the Beagle Channel divides into two arms; and we entered the northern
one. The scenery here becomes even grander than before. The lofty
mountains on the north side compose the granitic axis, or backbone of
the country, and boldly rise to a height of between three and four
thousand feet, with one peak above six thousand feet. They are covered
by a wide mantle of perpetual snow, and numerous cascades pour their
waters, through the woods, into the narrow channel below. In many
parts, magnificent glaciers extend from the mountain side to the
water’s edge. It is scarcely possible to imagine anything more
beautiful than the beryl-like blue of these glaciers, and especially as
contrasted with the dead white of the upper expanse of snow. The
fragments which had fallen from the glacier into the water were
floating away, and the channel with its icebergs presented, for the
space of a mile, a miniature likeness of the Polar Sea. The boats being
hauled on shore at our dinner-hour, we were admiring from the distance
of half a mile a perpendicular cliff of ice, and were wishing that some
more fragments would fall. At last, down came a mass with a roaring
noise, and immediately we saw the smooth outline of a wave travelling
towards us. The men ran down as quickly as they could to the boats; for
the chance of their being dashed to pieces was evident. One of the
seamen just caught hold of the bows, as the curling breaker reached it:
he was knocked over and over, but not hurt, and the boats, though
thrice lifted on high and let fall again, received no damage. This was
most fortunate for us, for we were a hundred miles distant from the
ship, and we should have been left without provisions or firearms. I
had previously observed that some large fragments of rock on the beach
had been lately displaced;
but until seeing this wave I did not understand the cause. One side of
the creek was formed by a spur of mica-slate; the head by a cliff of
ice about forty feet high; and the other side by a promontory fifty
feet high, built up of huge rounded fragments of granite and
mica-slate, out of which old trees were growing. This promontory was
evidently a moraine, heaped up at a period when the glacier had greater
dimensions.
When we reached the western mouth of this northern branch of the Beagle
Channel, we sailed amongst many unknown desolate islands, and the
weather was wretchedly bad. We met with no natives. The coast was
almost everywhere so steep that we had several times to pull many miles
before we could find space enough to pitch our two tents: one night we
slept on large round boulders, with putrefying sea-weed between them;
and when the tide rose, we had to get up and move our blanket-bags. The
farthest point westward which we reached was Stewart Island, a distance
of about one hundred and fifty miles from our ship. We returned into
the Beagle Channel by the southern arm, and thence proceeded, with no
adventure, back to Ponsonby Sound.
_February_ 6_th._—We arrived at Woollya. Matthews gave so bad an
account of the conduct of the Fuegians, that Captain Fitz Roy
determined to take him back to the _Beagle_; and ultimately he was left
at New Zealand, where his brother was a missionary. From the time of
our leaving, a regular system of plunder commenced; fresh parties of
the natives kept arriving: York and Jemmy lost many things, and
Matthews almost everything which had not been concealed underground.
Every article seemed to have been torn up and divided by the natives.
Matthews described the watch he was obliged always to keep as most
harassing; night and day he was surrounded by the natives, who tried to
tire him out by making an incessant noise close to his head. One day an
old man, whom Matthews asked to leave his wigwam, immediately returned
with a large stone in his hand: another day a whole party came armed
with stones and stakes, and some of the younger men and Jemmy’s brother
were crying: Matthews met them with presents. Another party showed by
signs that they wished to strip him naked and pluck all the hairs out
of his face and body. I think we arrived just in time to save his life.
Jemmy’s relatives had been so vain and foolish, that they had showed to
strangers their plunder, and their manner
of obtaining it. It was quite melancholy leaving the three Fuegians
with their savage countrymen; but it was a great comfort that they had
no personal fears. York, being a powerful resolute man, was pretty sure
to get on well, together with his wife Fuegia. Poor Jemmy looked rather
disconsolate, and would then, I have little doubt, have been glad to
have returned with us. His own brother had stolen many things from him;
and as he remarked, “What fashion call that:” he abused his countrymen,
“all bad men, no sabe (know) nothing” and, though I never heard him
swear before, “damned fools.” Our three Fuegians, though they had been
only three years with civilised men, would, I am sure, have been glad
to have retained their new habits; but this was obviously impossible. I
fear it is more than doubtful whether their visit will have been of any
use to them.
In the evening, with Matthews on board, we made sail back to the ship,
not by the Beagle Channel, but by the southern coast. The boats were
heavily laden and the sea rough, and we had a dangerous passage. By the
evening of the 7th we were on board the _ Beagle_ after an absence of
twenty days, during which time we had gone three hundred miles in the
open boats. On the 11th Captain Fitz Roy paid a visit by himself to the
Fuegians and found them going on well; and that they had lost very few
more things.
On the last day of February in the succeeding year (1834) the _Beagle_
anchored in a beautiful little cove at the eastern entrance of the
Beagle Channel. Captain Fitz Roy determined on the bold, and as it
proved successful, attempt to beat against the westerly winds by the
same route which we had followed in the boats to the settlement at
Woollya. We did not see many natives until we were near Ponsonby Sound,
where we were followed by ten or twelve canoes. The natives did not at
all understand the reason of our tacking, and, instead of meeting us at
each tack, vainly strove to follow us in our zigzag course. I was
amused at finding what a difference the circumstance of being quite
superior in force made, in the interest of beholding these savages.
While in the boats I got to hate the very sound of their voices, so
much trouble did they give us. The first and last word was
“yammerschooner.” When, entering some quiet little cove, we have looked
round and thought to pass a quiet
night, the odious word “yammerschooner” has shrilly sounded from some
gloomy nook, and then the little signal-smoke has curled up to spread
the news far and wide. On leaving some place we have said to each
other, “Thank heaven, we have at last fairly left these wretches!” when
one more faint halloo from an all-powerful voice, heard at a prodigious
distance, would reach our ears, and clearly could we
distinguish—“yammerschooner.” But now, the more Fuegians the merrier;
and very merry work it was. Both parties laughing, wondering, gaping at
each other; we pitying them, for giving us good fish and crabs for
rags, etc.; they grasping at the chance of finding people so foolish as
to exchange such splendid ornaments for a good supper. It was most
amusing to see the undisguised smile of satisfaction with which one
young woman with her face painted black, tied several bits of scarlet
cloth round her head with rushes. Her husband, who enjoyed the very
universal privilege in this country of possessing two wives, evidently
became jealous of all the attention paid to his young wife; and, after
a consultation with his naked beauties, was paddled away by them.
Some of the Fuegians plainly showed that they had a fair notion of
barter. I gave one man a large nail (a most valuable present) without
making any signs for a return; but he immediately picked out two fish,
and handed them up on the point of his spear. If any present was
designed for one canoe, and it fell near another, it was invariably
given to the right owner. The Fuegian boy, whom Mr. Low had on board,
showed, by going into the most violent passion, that he quite
understood the reproach of being called a liar, which in truth he was.
We were this time, as on all former occasions, much surprised at the
little notice, or rather none whatever, which was taken of many things,
the use of which must have been evident to the natives. Simple
circumstances—such as the beauty of scarlet cloth or blue beads, the
absence of women, our care in washing ourselves,—excited their
admiration far more than any grand or complicated object, such as our
ship. Bougainville has well remarked concerning these people, that they
treat the “chefs d’œuvres de l’industrie humaine, comme ils traitent
les loix de la nature et ses phénomènes.”
On the 5th of March we anchored in a cove at Woollya,
but we saw not a soul there. We were alarmed at this, for the natives
in Ponsonby Sound showed by gestures that there had been fighting; and
we afterwards heard that the dreaded Oens men had made a descent. Soon
a canoe, with a little flag flying, was seen approaching, with one of
the men in it washing the paint off his face. This man was poor
Jemmy,—now a thin, haggard savage, with long disordered hair, and
naked, except a bit of blanket round his waist. We did not recognize
him till he was close to us, for he was ashamed of himself, and turned
his back to the ship. We had left him plump, fat, clean, and
well-dressed;—I never saw so complete and grievous a change. As soon
however as he was clothed, and the first flurry was over, things wore a
good appearance. He dined with Captain Fitz Roy, and ate his dinner as
tidily as formerly. He told us that he had “too much” (meaning enough)
to eat, that he was not cold, that his relations were very good people,
and that he did not wish to go back to England: in the evening we found
out the cause of this great change in Jemmy’s feelings, in the arrival
of his young and nice-looking wife. With his usual good feeling, he
brought two beautiful otter-skins for two of his best friends, and some
spear-heads and arrows made with his own hands for the Captain. He said
he had built a canoe for himself, and he boasted that he could talk a
little of his own language! But it is a most singular fact, that he
appears to have taught all his tribe some English: an old man
spontaneously announced “Jemmy Button’s wife.” Jemmy had lost all his
property. He told us that York Minster had built a large canoe, and
with his wife Fuegia,[3] had several months since gone to his own
country, and had taken farewell by an act of consummate villainy; he
persuaded Jemmy and his mother to come with him, and then on the way
deserted them by night, stealing every article of their property.
[3] Captain Sulivan, who, since his voyage in the _Beagle_, has been
employed on the survey of the Falkland Islands, heard from a sealer in
(1842?), that when in the western part of the Strait of Magellan, he
was astonished by a native woman coming on board, who could talk some
English. Without doubt this was Fuegia Basket. She lived (I fear the
term probably bears a double interpretation) some days on board.
Jemmy went to sleep on shore, and in the morning returned, and remained
on board till the ship got under weigh, which frightened his wife, who
continued crying violently till he got
into his canoe. He returned loaded with valuable property. Every soul
on board was heartily sorry to shake hands with him for the last time.
I do not now doubt that he will be as happy as, perhaps happier than,
if he had never left his own country. Every one must sincerely hope
that Captain Fitz Roy’s noble hope may be fulfilled, of being rewarded
for the many generous sacrifices which he made for these Fuegians, by
some shipwrecked sailor being protected by the descendants of Jemmy
Button and his tribe! When Jemmy reached the shore, he lighted a signal
fire, and the smoke curled up, bidding us a last and long farewell, as
the ship stood on her course into the open sea.
The perfect equality among the individuals composing the Fuegian tribes
must for a long time retard their civilisation. As we see those
animals, whose instinct compels them to live in society and obey a
chief, are most capable of improvement, so is it with the races of
mankind. Whether we look at it as a cause or a consequence, the more
civilised always have the most artificial governments. For instance,
the inhabitants of Otaheite, who, when first discovered, were governed
by hereditary kings, had arrived at a far higher grade than another
branch of the same people, the New Zealanders,—who, although benefited
by being compelled to turn their attention to agriculture, were
republicans in the most absolute sense. In Tierra del Fuego, until some
chief shall arise with power sufficient to secure any acquired
advantage, such as the domesticated animals, it seems scarcely possible
that the political state of the country can be improved. At present,
even a piece of cloth given to one is torn into shreds and distributed;
and no one individual becomes richer than another. On the other hand,
it is difficult to understand how a chief can arise till there is
property of some sort by which he might manifest his superiority and
increase his power.
I believe, in this extreme part of South America, man exists in a lower
state of improvement than in any other part of the world. The South Sea
Islanders, of the two races inhabiting the Pacific, are comparatively
civilised. The Esquimaux, in his subterranean hut, enjoys some of the
comforts of life, and in his canoe, when fully equipped, manifests much
skill. Some of the
tribes of Southern Africa, prowling about in search of roots, and
living concealed on the wild and arid plains, are sufficiently
wretched. The Australian, in the simplicity of the arts of life, comes
nearest the Fuegian: he can, however, boast of his boomerang, his spear
and throwing-stick, his method of climbing trees, of tracking animals,
and of hunting. Although the Australian may be superior in
acquirements, it by no means follows that he is likewise superior in
mental capacity: indeed, from what I saw of the Fuegians when on board
and from what I have read of the Australians, I should think the case
was exactly the reverse.
[Illustration: False Horn, Cape Horn.]
[Illustration: Wollaston Island, Tierra del Fuego]