Chiloe—General Aspect—Boat excursion—Native Indians—Castro—Tame
fox—Ascend San Pedro—Chonos Archipelago—Peninsula of Tres
Montes—Granitic range—Boat-wrecked sailors—Low’s Harbour—Wild
potato—Formation of peat—Myopotamus, otter and mice—Cheucau and
Barking-bird—Opetiorhynchus—Singular character of ornithology—Petrels.
CHILOE AND CHONOS ISLANDS
_November_ 10_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed from Valparaiso to the south,
for the purpose of surveying the southern part of Chile, the island of
Chiloe, and the broken land called the Chonos Archipelago, as far south
as the Peninsula of Tres Montes. On the 21st we anchored in the bay of
S. Carlos, the capital of Chiloe.
This island is about ninety miles long, with a breadth of rather less
than thirty. The land is hilly, but not mountainous, and is covered by
one great forest, except where a few green patches have been cleared
round the thatched cottages. From
a distance the view somewhat resembles that of Tierra del Fuego; but
the woods, when seen nearer, are incomparably more beautiful. Many
kinds of fine evergreen trees, and plants with a tropical character,
here take the place of the gloomy beech of the southern shores. In
winter the climate is detestable, and in summer it is only a little
better. I should think there are few parts of the world, within the
temperate regions, where so much rain falls. The winds are very
boisterous, and the sky almost always clouded: to have a week of fine
weather is something wonderful. It is even difficult to get a single
glimpse of the Cordillera: during our first visit, once only the
volcano of Osorno stood out in bold relief, and that was before
sunrise; it was curious to watch, as the sun rose, the outline
gradually fading away in the glare of the eastern sky.
The inhabitants, from their complexion and low stature, appear to have
three-fourths of Indian blood in their veins. They are an humble,
quiet, industrious set of men. Although the fertile soil, resulting
from the decomposition of the volcanic rocks, supports a rank
vegetation, yet the climate is not favourable to any production which
requires much sunshine to ripen it. There is very little pasture for
the larger quadrupeds; and in consequence, the staple articles of food
are pigs, potatoes, and fish. The people all dress in strong woollen
garments, which each family makes for itself, and dyes with indigo of a
dark blue colour. The arts, however, are in the rudest state;—as may be
seen in their strange fashion of ploughing, their method of spinning,
grinding corn, and in the construction of their boats. The forests are
so impenetrable that the land is nowhere cultivated except near the
coast and on the adjoining islets. Even where paths exist, they are
scarcely passable from the soft and swampy state of the soil. The
inhabitants, like those of Tierra del Fuego, move about chiefly on the
beach or in boats. Although with plenty to eat, the people are very
poor: there is no demand for labour, and consequently the lower orders
cannot scrape together money sufficient to purchase even the smallest
luxuries. There is also a great deficiency of a circulating medium. I
have seen a man bringing on his back a bag of charcoal, with which to
buy some trifle, and another carrying a plank to exchange for a bottle
of wine. Hence every tradesman must also be
a merchant, and again sell the goods which he takes in exchange.
_November_ 24_th._—The yawl and whale-boat were sent under the command
of Mr. (now Captain) Sulivan to survey the eastern or inland coast of
Chiloe; and with orders to meet the _ Beagle_ at the southern extremity
of the island; to which point she would proceed by the outside, so as
thus to circumnavigate the whole. I accompanied this expedition, but
instead of going in the boats the first day, I hired horses to take me
to Chacao, at the northern extremity of the island. The road followed
the coast; every now and then crossing promontories covered by fine
forests. In these shaded paths it is absolutely necessary that the
whole road should be made of logs of wood, which are squared and placed
by the side of each other. From the rays of the sun never penetrating
the evergreen foliage, the ground is so damp and soft, that except by
this means neither man nor horse would be able to pass along. I arrived
at the village of Chacao shortly after the tents belonging to the boats
were pitched for the night.
The land in this neighbourhood has been extensively cleared, and there
were many quiet and most picturesque nooks in the forest. Chacao was
formerly the principal port in the island; but many vessels having been
lost, owing to the dangerous currents and rocks in the straits, the
Spanish government burnt the church, and thus arbitrarily compelled the
greater number of inhabitants to migrate to S. Carlos. We had not long
bivouacked, before the barefooted son of the governor came down to
reconnoitre us. Seeing the English flag hoisted at the yawl’s masthead,
he asked with the utmost indifference, whether it was always to fly at
Chacao. In several places the inhabitants were much astonished at the
appearance of men-of-war’s boats, and hoped and believed it was the
forerunner of a Spanish fleet, coming to recover the island from the
patriot government of Chile. All the men in power, however, had been
informed of our intended visit, and were exceedingly civil. While we
were eating our supper, the governor paid us a visit. He had been a
lieutenant-colonel in the Spanish service, but now was miserably poor.
He gave us two sheep, and accepted in return two cotton handkerchiefs,
some brass trinkets, and a little tobacco.
25_th._—Torrents of rain: we managed, however, to run down the coast as
far as Huapi-lenou. The whole of this eastern side of Chiloe has one
aspect; it is a plain, broken by valleys and divided into little
islands, and the whole thickly covered with one impervious
blackish-green forest. On the margins there are some cleared spaces,
surrounding the high-roofed cottages.
26_th._—The day rose splendidly clear. The volcano of Orsono was
spouting out volumes of smoke. This most beautiful mountain, formed
like a perfect cone, and white with snow, stands out in front of the
Cordillera. Another great volcano, with a saddle-shaped summit, also
emitted from its immense crater little jets of steam. Subsequently we
saw the lofty-peaked Corcovado—well deserving the name of “el famoso
Corcovado.” Thus we beheld, from one point of view, three great active
volcanoes, each about seven thousand feet high. In addition to this,
far to the south there were other lofty cones covered with snow, which,
although not known to be active, must be in their origin volcanic. The
line of the Andes is not, in this neighbourhood, nearly so elevated as
in Chile; neither does it appear to form so perfect a barrier between
the regions of the earth. This great range, although running in a
straight north and south line, owing to an optical deception always
appeared more or less curved; for the lines drawn from each peak to the
beholder’s eye necessarily converged like the radii of a semicircle,
and as it was not possible (owing to the clearness of the atmosphere
and the absence of all intermediate objects) to judge how far distant
the farthest peaks were off, they appeared to stand in a flattish
semicircle.
Landing at midday, we saw a family of pure Indian extraction. The
father was singularly like York Minster; and some of the younger boys,
with their ruddy complexions, might have been mistaken for Pampas
Indians. Everything I have seen convinces me of the close connexion of
the different American tribes, who nevertheless speak distinct
languages. This party could muster but little Spanish, and talked to
each other in their own tongue. It is a pleasant thing to see the
aborigines advanced to the same degree of civilisation, however low
that may be, which their white conquerors have attained.
More to the south we saw many pure Indians: indeed, all the inhabitants
of some of the islets retain their Indian surnames. In the census of
1832 there were in Chiloe and its dependencies forty-two thousand
souls: the greater number of these appear to be of mixed blood. Eleven
thousand retain their Indian surnames, but it is probable that not
nearly all of these are of a pure breed. Their manner of life is the
same with that of the other poor inhabitants, and they are all
Christians; but it is said that they yet retain some strange
superstitious ceremonies, and that they pretend to hold communication
with the devil in certain caves. Formerly, every one convicted of this
offence was sent to the Inquisition at Lima. Many of the inhabitants
who are not included in the eleven thousand with Indian surnames,
cannot be distinguished by their appearance from Indians. Gomez, the
governor of Lemuy, is descended from noblemen of Spain on both sides;
but by constant intermarriages with the natives the present man is an
Indian. On the other hand, the governor of Quinchao boasts much of his
purely kept Spanish blood.
We reached at night a beautiful little cove, north of the island of
Caucahue. The people here complained of want of land. This is partly
owing to their own negligence in not clearing the woods, and partly to
restrictions by the government, which makes it necessary, before buying
ever so small a piece, to pay two shillings to the surveyor for
measuring each quadra (150 yards square), together with whatever price
he fixes for the value of the land. After his valuation the land must
be put up three times to auction, and if no one bids more, the
purchaser can have it at that rate. All these exactions must be a
serious check to clearing the ground, where the inhabitants are so
extremely poor. In most countries, forests are removed without much
difficulty by the aid of fire; but in Chiloe, from the damp nature of
the climate, and the sort of trees, it is necessary first to cut them
down. This is a heavy drawback to the prosperity of Chiloe. In the time
of the Spaniards the Indians could not hold land; and a family, after
having cleared a piece of ground, might be driven away, and the
property seized by the government. The Chilian authorities are now
performing an act of justice by making retribution to these poor
Indians, giving to each
man, according to his grade of life, a certain portion of land. The
value of uncleared ground is very little. The government gave Mr.
Douglas (the present surveyor, who informed me of these circumstances)
eight and a half square miles of forest near S. Carlos, in lieu of a
debt; and this he sold for 350 dollars, or about £70 sterling.
The two succeeding days were fine, and at night we reached the island
of Quinchao. This neighbourhood is the most cultivated part of the
Archipelago; for a broad strip of land on the coast of the main island,
as well as on many of the smaller adjoining ones, is almost completely
cleared. Some of the farmhouses seemed very comfortable. I was curious
to ascertain how rich any of these people might be, but Mr. Douglas
says that no one can be considered as possessing a regular income. One
of the richest landowners might possibly accumulate, in a long
industrious life, as much as £1000 sterling; but should this happen, it
would all be stowed away in some secret corner, for it is the custom of
almost every family to have a jar or treasure-chest buried in the
ground.
_November_ 30_th._—Early on Sunday morning we reached Castro, the
ancient capital of Chiloe, but now a most forlorn and deserted place.
The usual quadrangular arrangement of Spanish towns could be traced,
but the streets and plaza were coated with fine green turf, on which
sheep were browsing. The church, which stands in the middle, is
entirely built of plank, and has a picturesque and venerable
appearance. The poverty of the place may be conceived from the fact,
that although containing some hundreds of inhabitants, one of our party
was unable anywhere to purchase either a pound of sugar or an ordinary
knife. No individual possessed either a watch or a clock; and an old
man who was supposed to have a good idea of time, was employed to
strike the church bell by guess. The arrival of our boats was a rare
event in this quiet retired corner of the world; and nearly all the
inhabitants came down to the beach to see us pitch our tents. They were
very civil, and offered us a house; and one man even sent us a cask of
cider as a present. In the afternoon we paid our respects to the
governor—a quiet old man, who, in his appearance and manner of life,
was scarcely superior to an English cottager. At night heavy rain set
in, which was
hardly sufficient to drive away from our tents the large circle of
lookers on. An Indian family, who had come to trade in a canoe from
Caylen, bivouacked near us. They had no shelter during the rain. In the
morning I asked a young Indian, who was wet to the skin, how he had
passed the night. He seemed perfectly content, and answered, “Muy bien,
señor.”
_December_ 1_st._—We steered for the island of Lemuy. I was anxious to
examine a reported coal-mine which turned out to be lignite of little
value, in the sandstone (probably of an ancient tertiary epoch) of
which these islands are composed. When we reached Lemuy we had much
difficulty in finding any place to pitch our tents, for it was
spring-tide, and the land was wooded down to the water’s edge. In a
short time we were surrounded by a large group of the nearly pure
Indian inhabitants. They were much surprised at our arrival, and said
one to the other, “This is the reason we have seen so many parrots
lately; the cheucau (an odd red-breasted little bird, which inhabits
the thick forest, and utters very peculiar noises) has not cried
‘beware’ for nothing.” They were soon anxious for barter. Money was
scarcely worth anything, but their eagerness for tobacco was something
quite extraordinary. After tobacco, indigo came next in value; then
capsicum, old clothes, and gunpowder. The latter article was required
for a very innocent purpose: each parish has a public musket, and the
gunpowder was wanted for making a noise on their saint or feast days.
The people here live chiefly on shell-fish and potatoes. At certain
seasons they catch also, in “corrales,” or hedges under water, many
fish which are left on the mud-banks as the tide falls. They
occasionally possess fowls, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, and cattle; the
order in which they are here mentioned, expressing their respective
numbers. I never saw anything more obliging and humble than the manners
of these people. They generally began with stating that they were poor
natives of the place, and not Spaniards and that they were in sad want
of tobacco and other comforts. At Caylen, the most southern island, the
sailors bought with a stick of tobacco, of the value of
three-halfpence, two fowls, one of which, the Indian stated, had skin
between its toes, and turned out to
be a fine duck; and with some cotton handkerchiefs, worth three
shillings, three sheep and a large bunch of onions were procured. The
yawl at this place was anchored some way from the shore, and we had
fears for her safety from robbers during the night. Our pilot, Mr.
Douglas, accordingly told the constable of the district that we always
placed sentinels with loaded arms, and not understanding Spanish, if we
saw any person in the dark, we should assuredly shoot him. The
constable, with much humility, agreed to the perfect propriety of this
arrangement, and promised us that no one should stir out of his house
during that night.
During the four succeeding days we continued sailing southward. The
general features of the country remained the same, but it was much less
thickly inhabited. On the large island of Tanqui there was scarcely one
cleared spot, the trees on every side extending their branches over the
sea-beach. I one day noticed, growing on the sandstone cliffs, some
very fine plants of the panke (Gunnera scabra), which somewhat
resembles the rhubarb on a gigantic scale. The inhabitants eat the
stalks, which are subacid, and tan leather with the roots, and prepare
a black dye from them. The leaf is nearly circular, but deeply indented
on its margin. I measured one which was nearly eight feet in diameter,
and therefore no less than twenty-four in circumference! The stalk is
rather more than a yard high, and each plant sends out four or five of
these enormous leaves, presenting together a very noble appearance.
_December_ 6_th._—We reached Caylen, called “el fin del Cristiandad.”
In the morning we stopped for a few minutes at a house on the northern
end of Laylec, which was the extreme point of South American
Christendom, and a miserable hovel it was. The latitude is 43° 10′,
which is two degrees farther south than the Rio Negro on the Atlantic
coast. These extreme Christians were very poor, and, under the plea of
their situation, begged for some tobacco. As a proof of the poverty of
these Indians, I may mention that shortly before this we had met a man,
who had travelled three days and a half on foot, and had as many to
return, for the sake of recovering the value of a small axe and a few
fish. How very difficult it must be to buy the smallest article, when
such trouble is taken to recover so small a debt.
In the evening we reached the island of San Pedro, where we found the
_Beagle_ at anchor. In doubling the point, two of the officers landed
to take a round of angles with the theodolite. A fox (Canis fulvipes),
of a kind said to be peculiar to the island, and very rare in it, and
which is a new species, was sitting on the rocks. He was so intently
absorbed in watching the work of the officers, that I was able, by
quietly walking up behind, to knock him on the head with my geological
hammer. This fox, more curious or more scientific, but less wise, than
the generality of his brethren, is now mounted in the museum of the
Zoological Society.
We stayed three days in this harbour, on one of which Captain Fitz Roy,
with a party, attempted to ascend to the summit of San Pedro. The woods
here had rather a different appearance from those on the northern part
of the island. The rock, also, being micaceous slate, there was no
beach, but the steep sides dipped directly beneath the water. The
general aspect in consequence was more like that of Tierra del Fuego
than of Chiloe. In vain we tried to gain the summit: the forest was so
impenetrable, that no one who has not beheld it can imagine so
entangled a mass of dying and dead trunks. I am sure that often, for
more than ten minutes together, our feet never touched the ground, and
we were frequently ten or fifteen feet above it, so that the seamen as
a joke called out the soundings. At other times we crept one after
another, on our hands and knees, under the rotten trunks. In the lower
part of the mountain, noble trees of the Winter’s Bark, and a laurel
like the sassafras with fragrant leaves, and others, the names of which
I do not know, were matted together by a trailing bamboo or cane. Here
we were more like fishes struggling in a net than any other animal. On
the higher parts, brushwood takes the place of larger trees, with here
and there a red cedar or an alerce pine. I was also pleased to see, at
an elevation of a little less than 1000 feet, our old friend the
southern beech. They were, however, poor stunted trees, and I should
think that this must be nearly their northern limit. We ultimately gave
up the attempt in despair.
_December_ 10_th._—The yawl and whale-boat, with Mr. Sulivan, proceeded
on their survey, but I remained on board the _ Beagle_, which the next
day left San Pedro for the southward. On the
13th we ran into an opening in the southern part of Guayatecas, or the
Chonos Archipelago; and it was fortunate we did so, for on the
following day a storm, worthy of Tierra del Fuego, raged with great
fury. White massive clouds were piled up against a dark blue sky, and
across them black ragged sheets of vapour were rapidly driven. The
successive mountain ranges appeared like dim shadows, and the setting
sun cast on the woodland a yellow gleam, much like that produced by the
flame of spirits of wine. The water was white with the flying spray,
and the wind lulled and roared again through the rigging: it was an
ominous, sublime scene. During a few minutes there was a bright
rainbow, and it was curious to observe the effect of the spray, which,
being carried along the surface of the water, changed the ordinary
semicircle into a circle—a band of prismatic colours being continued,
from both feet of the common arch across the bay, close to the vessel’s
side: thus forming a distorted, but very nearly entire ring.
Inside Chonos Archipelago
We stayed here three days. The weather continued bad; but this did not
much signify, for the surface of the land in all these islands is all
but impassable. The coast is so very rugged that to attempt to walk in
that direction requires
continued scrambling up and down over the sharp rocks of mica-slate;
and as for the woods, our faces, hands, and shin-bones all bore witness
to the maltreatment we received, in merely attempting to penetrate
their forbidden recesses.
_December_ 18_th._—We stood out to sea. On the 20th we bade farewell to
the south, and with a fair wind turned the ship’s head northward. From
Cape Tres Montes we sailed pleasantly along the lofty weather-beaten
coast, which is remarkable for the bold outline of its hills, and the
thick covering of forest even on the almost precipitous flanks. The
next day a harbour was discovered, which on this dangerous coast might
be of great service to a distressed vessel. It can easily be recognised
by a hill 1600 feet high, which is even more perfectly conical than the
famous sugar-loaf at Rio de Janeiro. The next day, after anchoring, I
succeeded in reaching the summit of this hill. It was a laborious
undertaking, for the sides were so steep that in some parts it was
necessary to use the trees as ladders. There were also several
extensive brakes of the Fuchsia, covered with its beautiful drooping
flowers, but very difficult to crawl through. In these wild countries
it gives much delight to gain the summit of any mountain. There is an
indefinite expectation of seeing something very strange, which, however
often it may be balked, never failed with me to recur on each
successive attempt. Every one must know the feeling of triumph and
pride which a grand view from a height communicates to the mind. In
these little frequented countries there is also joined to it some
vanity, that you perhaps are the first man who ever stood on this
pinnacle or admired this view.
A strong desire is always felt to ascertain whether any human being has
previously visited an unfrequented spot. A bit of wood with a nail in
it is picked up and studied as if it were covered with hieroglyphics.
Possessed with this feeling, I was much interested by finding, on a
wild part of the coast, a bed made of grass beneath a ledge of rock.
Close by it there had been a fire, and the man had used an axe. The
fire, bed, and situation showed the dexterity of an Indian; but he
could scarcely have been an Indian, for the race is in this part
extinct, owing to the Catholic desire of making at one blow Christians
and Slaves. I had at the time some misgivings
that the solitary man who had made his bed on this wild spot, must have
been some poor shipwrecked sailor, who, in trying to travel up the
coast, had here laid himself down for his dreary night.
_December_ 28_th._—The weather continued very bad, but it at last
permitted us to proceed with the survey. The time hung heavy on our
hands, as it always did when we were delayed from day to day by
successive gales of wind. In the evening another harbour was
discovered, where we anchored. Directly afterwards a man was seen
waving his shirt, and a boat was sent which brought back two seamen. A
party of six had run away from an American whaling vessel, and had
landed a little to the southward in a boat, which was shortly
afterwards knocked to pieces by the surf. They had now been wandering
up and down the coast for fifteen months, without knowing which way to
go, or where they were. What a singular piece of good fortune it was
that this harbour was now discovered! Had it not been for this one
chance, they might have wandered till they had grown old men, and at
last have perished on this wild coast. Their sufferings had been very
great, and one of their party had lost his life by falling from the
cliffs. They were sometimes obliged to separate in search of food, and
this explained the bed of the solitary man. Considering what they had
undergone, I think they had kept a very good reckoning of time, for
they had lost only four days.
_December_ 30_th._—We anchored in a snug little cove at the foot of
some high hills, near the northern extremity of Tres Montes. After
breakfast the next morning a party ascended one of these mountains,
which was 2400 feet high. The scenery was remarkable. The chief part of
the range was composed of grand, solid, abrupt masses of granite, which
appeared as if they had been coeval with the beginning of the world.
The granite was capped with mica-slate, and this in the lapse of ages
had been worn into strange finger-shaped points. These two formations,
thus differing in their outlines, agree in being almost destitute of
vegetation. This barrenness had to our eyes a strange appearance, from
having been so long accustomed to the sight of an almost universal
forest of dark-green trees. I took much delight in examining the
structure of these mountains. The complicated and lofty ranges bore a
noble aspect of durability—equally profitless, however, to man and to
all other animals. Granite to the geologist is classic ground: from its
widespread limits, and its beautiful and compact texture, few rocks
have been more anciently recognised. Granite has given rise, perhaps,
to more discussion concerning its origin than any other formation. We
generally see it constituting the fundamental rock, and, however
formed, we know it is the deepest layer in the crust of this globe to
which man has penetrated. The limit of man’s knowledge in any subject
possesses a high interest, which is perhaps increased by its close
neighbourhood to the realms of imagination.
_January_ 1_st_, 1835.—The new year is ushered in with the ceremonies
proper to it in these regions. She lays out no false hopes: a heavy
north-western gale, with steady rain, bespeaks the rising year. Thank
God, we are not destined here to see the end of it, but hope then to be
in the Pacific Ocean, where a blue sky tells one there is a heaven,—a
something beyond the clouds above our heads.
The north-west winds prevailing for the next four days, we only managed
to cross a great bay, and then anchored in another secure harbour. I
accompanied the Captain in a boat to the head of a deep creek. On the
way the number of seals which we saw was quite astonishing: every bit
of flat rock and parts of the beach were covered with them. They
appeared to be of a loving disposition, and lay huddled together, fast
asleep, like so many pigs; but even pigs would have been ashamed of
their dirt, and of the foul smell which came from them. Each herd was
watched by the patient but inauspicious eyes of the turkey-buzzard.
This disgusting bird, with its bald scarlet head, formed to wallow in
putridity, is very common on the west coast, and their attendance on
the seals shows on what they rely for their food. We found the water
(probably only that of the surface) nearly fresh: this was caused by
the number of torrents which, in the form of cascades, came tumbling
over the bold granite mountains into the sea. The fresh water attracts
the fish, and these bring many terns, gulls, and two kinds of
cormorant. We saw also a pair of the beautiful black-necked swans, and
several small sea-otters, the fur of which is held in such high
estimation. In returning, we
were again amused by the impetuous manner in which the heap of seals,
old and young, tumbled into the water as the boat passed. They did not
remain long under water, but rising, followed us with outstretched
necks, expressing great wonder and curiosity.
7_th._—Having run up the coast, we anchored near the northern end of
the Chonos Archipelago, in Low’s Harbour, where we remained a week. The
islands were here, as in Chiloe, composed of a stratified, soft,
littoral deposit; and the vegetation in consequence was beautifully
luxuriant. The woods came down to the sea-beach, just in the manner of
an evergreen shrubbery over a gravel walk. We also enjoyed from the
anchorage a splendid view of four great snowy cones of the Cordillera,
including “el famoso Corcovado;” the range itself had in this latitude
so little height, that few parts of it appeared above the tops of the
neighbouring islets. We found here a party of five men from Caylen, “el
fin del Cristiandad,” who had most adventurously crossed in their
miserable boat-canoe, for the purpose of fishing, the open space of sea
which separates Chonos from Chiloe. These islands will, in all
probability, in a short time become peopled like those adjoining the
coast of Chiloe.
The wild potato grows on these islands in great abundance, on the
sandy, shelly soil near the sea-beach. The tallest plant was four feet
in height. The tubers were generally small, but I found one, of an oval
shape, two inches in diameter: they resembled in every respect, and had
the same smell as English potatoes; but when boiled they shrunk much,
and were watery and insipid, without any bitter taste. They are
undoubtedly here indigenous: they grow as far south, according to Mr.
Low, as lat. 50°, and are called Aquinas by the wild Indians of that
part: the Chilotan Indians have a different name for them. Professor
Henslow, who has examined the dried specimens which I brought home,
says that they are the same with those described by Mr. Sabine[1] from
Valparaiso, but that they form a
variety which by some botanists has been considered as specifically
distinct. It is remarkable that the same plant should be found on the
sterile mountains of central Chile, where a drop of rain does not fall
for more than six months, and within the damp forests of these southern
islands.
[1] _Horticultural Transact._ vol. v, p. 249. Mr. Caldeleugh sent home
two tubers, which, being well manured, even the first season produced
numerous potatoes and an abundance of leaves. See Humboldt’s
interesting discussion on this plant, which it appears was unknown in
Mexico,—in _Polit. Essay on New Spain_, book iv, chap. ix.
In the central parts of the Chonos Archipelago (lat. 45°), the forest
has very much the same character with that along the whole west coast,
for 600 miles southward to Cape Horn. The arborescent grass of Chiloe
is not found here; while the beech of Tierra del Fuego grows to a good
size, and forms a considerable proportion of the wood; not, however, in
the same exclusive manner as it does farther southward. Cryptogamic
plants here find a most congenial climate. In the Strait of Magellan,
as I have before remarked, the country appears too cold and wet to
allow of their arriving at perfection; but in these islands, within the
forest, the number of species and great abundance of mosses, lichens,
and small ferns, is quite extraordinary.[2] In Tierra del Fuego trees
grow only on the hillsides; every level piece of land being invariably
covered by a thick bed of peat; but in Chiloe flat land supports the
most luxuriant forests. Here, within the Chonos Archipelago, the nature
of the climate more closely approaches that of Tierra del Fuego than
that of northern Chiloe; for every patch of level ground is covered by
two species of plants (Astelia pumila and Donatia magellanica), which
by their joint decay compose a thick bed of elastic peat.
[2] By sweeping with my insect-net, I procured from these situations a
considerable number of minute insects, of the family of Staphylinidæ,
and others allied to Pselaphus, and minute Hymenoptera. But the most
characteristic family in number, both of individuals and species,
throughout the more open parts of Chiloe and Chonos is that of
Telephoridæ.
In Tierra del Fuego, above the region of woodland, the former of these
eminently sociable plants is the chief agent in the production of peat.
Fresh leaves are always succeeding one to the other round the central
tap-root, the lower ones soon decay, and in tracing a root downwards in
the peat, the leaves, yet holding their place, can be observed passing
through every stage of decomposition, till the whole becomes blended in
one confused mass. The Astelia is assisted by a few other plants,—here
and there a small creeping Myrtus (M. nummularia), with a woody stem
like our cranberry and with a sweet berry,—an
Empetrum (E. rubrum), like our heath,—a rush (Juncus grandiflorus), are
nearly the only ones that grow on the swampy surface. These plants,
though possessing a very close general resemblance to the English
species of the same genera, are different. In the more level parts of
the country, the surface of the peat is broken up into little pools of
water, which stand at different heights, and appear as if artificially
excavated. Small streams of water, flowing underground, complete the
disorganisation of the vegetable matter, and consolidate the whole.
The climate of the southern part of America appears particularly
favourable to the production of peat. In the Falkland Islands almost
every kind of plant, even the coarse grass which covers the whole
surface of the land, becomes converted into this substance: scarcely
any situation checks its growth; some of the beds are as much as twelve
feet thick, and the lower part becomes so solid when dry, that it will
hardly burn. Although every plant lends its aid, yet in most parts the
Astelia is the most efficient. It is rather a singular circumstance, as
being so very different from what occurs in Europe, that I nowhere saw
moss forming by its decay any portion of the peat in South America.
With respect to the northern limit at which the climate allows of that
peculiar kind of slow decomposition which is necessary for its
production, I believe that in Chiloe (lat. 41° to 42°), although there
is much swampy ground, no well-characterised peat occurs: but in the
Chonos Islands, three degrees farther southward, we have seen that it
is abundant. On the eastern coast in La Plata (lat. 35°) I was told by
a Spanish resident who had visited Ireland, that he had often sought
for this substance, but had never been able to find any. He showed me,
as the nearest approach to it which he had discovered, a black peaty
soil, so penetrated with roots as to allow of an extremely slow and
imperfect combustion.
The zoology of these broken islets of the Chonos Archipelago is, as
might have been expected, very poor. Of quadrupeds two aquatic kinds
are common. The Myopotamus Coypus (like a beaver, but with a round
tail) is well known from its fine fur, which is an object of trade
throughout the tributaries of La
Plata. It here, however, exclusively frequents salt water; which same
circumstance has been mentioned as sometimes occurring with the great
rodent, the Capybara. A small sea-otter is very numerous; this animal
does not feed exclusively on fish, but, like the seals, draws a large
supply from a small red crab, which swims in shoals near the surface of
the water. Mr. Bynoe saw one in Tierra del Fuego eating a cuttle-fish;
and at Low’s Harbour, another was killed in the act of carrying to its
hole a large volute shell. At one place I caught in a trap a singular
little mouse (M. brachiotis); it appeared common on several of the
islets, but the Chilotans at Low’s Harbour said that it was not found
in all. What a succession of chances,[3] or what changes of level must
have been brought into play, thus to spread these small animals
throughout this broken archipelago!
[3] It is said that some rapacious birds bring their prey alive to
their nests. If so, in the course of centuries, every now and then,
one might escape from the young birds. Some such agency is necessary,
to account for the distribution of the smaller gnawing animals on
islands not very near each other.
In all parts of Chiloe and Chonos, two very strange birds occur, which
are allied to, and replace, the Turco and Tapacolo of central Chile.
One is called by the inhabitants “Cheucau” (Pteroptochos rubecula): it
frequents the most gloomy and retired spots within the damp forests.
Sometimes, although its cry may be heard close at hand, let a person
watch ever so attentively he will not see the cheucau; at other times
let him stand motionless and the red-breasted little bird will approach
within a few feet in the most familiar manner. It then busily hops
about the entangled mass of rotting canes and branches, with its little
tail cocked upwards. The cheucau is held in superstitious fear by the
Chilotans, on account of its strange and varied cries. There are three
very distinct cries: One is called “chiduco,” and is an omen of good;
another, “huitreu,” which is extremely unfavourable; and a third, which
I have forgotten. These words are given in imitation of the noises; and
the natives are in some things absolutely governed by them. The
Chilotans assuredly have chosen a most comical little creature for
their prophet. An allied species, but rather larger, is called by the
natives “Guid-guid” (Pteroptochos Tarnii), and by the English the
barking-bird. This latter name is well given; for
I defy any one at first to feel certain that a small dog is not yelping
somewhere in the forest. Just as with the cheucau, a person will
sometimes hear the bark close by, but in vain may endeavour by
watching, and with still less chance by beating the bushes, to see the
bird; yet at other times the guid-guid fearlessly comes near. Its
manner of feeding and its general habits are very similar to those of
the cheucau.
On the coast,[4] a small dusky-coloured bird (Opetiorhynchus
Patagonicus) is very common. It is remarkable from its quiet habits; it
lives entirely on the sea-beach, like a sandpiper. Besides these birds
only few others inhabit this broken land. In my rough notes I describe
the strange noises, which, although frequently heard within these
gloomy forests, yet scarcely disturb the general silence. The yelping
of the guid-guid, and the sudden whew-whew of the cheucau, sometimes
come from afar off, and sometimes from close at hand; the little black
wren of Tierra del Fuego occasionally adds its cry; the creeper
(Oxyurus) follows the intruder screaming and twittering; the
humming-bird may be seen every now and then darting from side to side,
and emitting, like an insect, its shrill chirp; lastly, from the top of
some lofty tree the indistinct but plaintive note of the white-tufted
tyrant-flycatcher (Myiobius) may be noticed. From the great
preponderance in most countries of certain common genera of birds, such
as the finches, one feels at first surprised at meeting with the
peculiar forms above enumerated, as the commonest birds in any
district. In central Chile two of them, namely, the Oxyurus and
Scytalopus, occur, although most rarely. When finding, as in this case,
animals which seem to play so insignificant a part in the great scheme
of nature, one is apt to wonder why they were created. But it should
always be recollected, that in some other country perhaps they are
essential members of society, or at some former period may have been
so. If America south of 37° were sunk beneath the waters of the ocean,
these two birds might continue to exist in central Chile for a long
period, but it is very improbable that their numbers would increase. We
should then see a case which must inevitably have happened with very
many animals.
[4] I may mention, as a proof of how great a difference there is
between the seasons of the wooded and the open parts of this coast,
that on September 20th, in lat. 34°, these birds had young ones in the
nest, while among the Chonos Islands, three months later in the
summer, they were only laying, the difference in latitude between
these two places being about 700 miles.
These southern seas are frequented by several species of Petrels: the
largest kind, Procellaria gigantea, or nelly (quebrantahuesos, or
break-bones, of the Spaniards), is a common bird, both in the inland
channels and on the open sea. In its habits and manner of flight there
is a very close resemblance with the albatross; and as with the
albatross, a person may watch it for hours together without seeing on
what it feeds. The “break-bones” is, however, a rapacious bird, for it
was observed by some of the officers at Port St. Antonio chasing a
diver, which tried to escape by diving and flying, but was continually
struck down, and at last killed by a blow on its head. At Port St.
Julian these great petrels were seen killing and devouring young gulls.
A second species (Puffinus cinereus), which is common to Europe, Cape
Horn, and the coast of Peru, is of a much smaller size than the P.
gigantea, but, like it, of a dirty black colour. It generally frequents
the inland sounds in very large flocks: I do not think I ever saw so
many birds of any other sort together, as I once saw of these behind
the island of Chiloe. Hundreds of thousands flew in an irregular line
for several hours in one direction. When part of the flock settled on
the water the surface was blackened, and a noise proceeded from them as
of human beings talking in the distance.
There are several other species of petrels, but I will only mention one
other kind, the Pelacanoides Berardi, which offers an example of those
extraordinary cases, of a bird evidently belonging to one well-marked
family, yet both in its habits and structure allied to a very distinct
tribe. This bird never leaves the quiet inland sounds. When disturbed
it dives to a distance, and on coming to the surface, with the same
movement takes flight. After flying by the rapid movement of its short
wings for a space in a straight line, it drops, as if struck dead, and
dives again. The form of its beak and nostrils, length of foot, and
even the colouring of its plumage, show that this bird is a petrel: on
the other hand, its short wings and consequent little power of flight,
its form of body and shape of tail, the absence of a hind toe to its
foot, its habit of living, and its choice of situation, make it at
first doubtful
whether its relationship is not equally close with the auks. It would
undoubtedly be mistaken for an auk, when seen from a distance, either
on the wing, or when diving and quietly swimming about the retired
channels of Tierra del Fuego.
[Illustration: Gunnera Scabra, Chiloe]
[Illustration: Antuco Volcano, near Talcahuano]