I GO BACK TO THE SEA AGAIN
THE day after my arrival at Lima, I was taken ill with the Oroya
fever, which must have been on me before I left the camp. I was taken
to the General Hospital and although I was as strong and healthy as
a young giant before, it was three months ere I was able to resume
work of any description. However, on my discharge, although still as
weak as a cat, a friend got me a berth as mess-room steward on the
s.s. “Chiloc,” one of the Pacific Company’s coast boats, and right
glad I was to feel myself once more on the water. We made a trip from
Callao to Panama, and another to Coquimbo, with its steep streets and
big mountains behind. Coquimbo is the centre of a great copper mining
industry, and some of the largest fortunes of Chili have been drawn
from the copper-smelting works. Full of curiosity, I went ashore and
wandered about for a few hours. I saw the Plaza, with its green oasis,
fringed with pepper trees. The doors of the cathedral opposite were
open, and the sound of music drew me to the open door, and one of the
prettiest sights I have ever seen met my eyes. The altars were ablaze
with lighted candles, and the church was decorated with the colours of
the Blessed Virgin Mother, blue and white, for it was her month, and
every evening from the 8th of November to the 8th of December, these
services are held. From my post at the door I could see that the floor
of the church was crowded with black-robed women, whilst the treble
of childish voices chanted a sweet-toned litany, the refrain of the
“Ave Maria” echoing again and again, floated out on the still night
air, dying away into silence, like the sound of the summer sea on some
palm-fringed shore, the beauty and solemnity of it lingered in my heart
for many days.
On our return to Callao, the vessel was put under a temporary overhaul
previous to going to England for new survey and new boilers. She had
been running on the coast of Peru, Bolivia and Chili for the last ten
years, and greatly needed a thorough overhauling. The chief engineer,
Mr. Jones, was very kind to me, especially when I first joined the
ship, so weak had the fever left me that, but for his kindness and
care, I must have broken down again.
We left Callao and called at various ports on the coast, staying at
Valparaiso a week doing some repairs to the engine. One night I went
ashore in the boat to bring the steward on board. It was about eleven
p.m., and as I sat waiting in the boat I thought what a close, hot,
heavy night it was. Just in front of where the boat lay there were
several low class drinking saloons, and the places were crowded with
dancers, the musicians playing for all they were worth. All seemed to
be enjoying themselves to the utmost in their own fashion. To the right
of the boat landing, a road led up the cliffs that fronted the harbour.
Right on the top of the cliffs there stood three famous drinking
saloons, well known among South American traders as the “Fore,” “Main,”
and “Mizzen Tops,” low, rough, disreputable places, the resort of
crimps, the vilest of women and thieves, and many a sailor was drugged,
then robbed and shanghaied from these dens of evil.
Just as the clock in the Grand Plaza struck eleven, and I was wondering
how anybody could dance on that hot night, also how much longer I
should have to wait, the boat gave a surge forward, the next moment a
low, rumbling noise was heard, and then a sharp shock of earthquake.
At once the streets and every open space were filled with the people
crying, shouting, and praying, calling on Santa Maria, and all the
other Chilian saints, whose names are legion, for mercy and pity.
About three minutes afterwards there was another shock, more severe
than the first, which caused a large slice of the cliff to fall down
into the waters of the bay, and bringing down with it the three
drinking saloons already mentioned. Owing to the first shock most of
the dancers and drinkers were out in the streets and open spaces, but a
number of decoy girls, and the proprietors of the saloons were buried
beneath the ruins.
As there were no more shocks, in about ten minutes the people in the
streets and Plaza ceased to call on Santa Maria, rushed back to the
remaining saloons, called for the fiddlers, and went on dancing as
though nothing had happened, and yet within half a mile of them, fifty
human beings at least had been hurled into eternity without a moment’s
warning.
We left Valparaiso the next day on our journey to Liverpool, and as
the steamer’s boilers were in a very dilapidated condition, and not in
any way fit to place much confidence in, the captain decided to pass
through Smythe’s Straits, into the Straits of Magellan, thereby cutting
off the stormy region outside the thousands of small islands. Now in
the Smythe’s Strait the water is very deep right close to the side of
the high mountains. There is only one place in this strait where a
ship can find anchorage, and that is in a small bay off the strait, so
that it is a great risk to take a steamer through. However, we entered
the strait in the forenoon, and arrived at the anchorage just before
dark. It was a bitter cold day, and the hills around us were covered
with snow. The whole place looked a wild and inhospitable spot. Among
our passengers was the Chilian Governor and his suite, for the penal
settlement of Sandy Point in the Straits of Magellan. He advised the
captain to have a strict watch kept, as the native Fuegians were a
treacherous lot, as we had reason to remember a few hours later.
Shortly after anchoring, a long canoe came off from the shore,
containing a man, woman, and three children. Neither the man nor woman
were more than four feet in height, and had no covering, with the
exception of a skin over their shoulders, and a smaller one around
their loins; the children were quite naked at the bottom of the canoe,
in which there was a little water, but they did not seem to mind this.
It is astonishing what the human body can stand if trained to it. Both
the man and woman were armed with crude bows and arrows, and each had
a long spear of hard wood, which may have been used for spearing fish,
as there were several small ones in the canoe. They were not allowed
to come on board, but the captain ordered the steward to give them a
bucketful of ship’s bread. This was done, and the poor creatures went
almost mad over it, eating it ravenously. When they saw that this was
all there was to be got, they pulled back to the shore, and shortly
afterwards, it being very dark, we saw a fire lit on one of the hills
to the south of the bay. In a few minutes we saw another a little
further off, and then successively fire beacons were shewn in varying
distances from each other all around the bay which was quite two miles
across.
When the Governor of Sandy Point saw this, he told the captain that,
in all probability, the natives would try to attack and surprise the
ship during the night, and advised him to be prepared. The captain at
once ordered steam to be got ready at a moment’s notice. All hands were
mustered, and arms served out as far as they would go, and the crew
told to stand by. About midnight we saw a large canoe put off from the
shore; it appeared to be about fifty feet long, and contained quite
forty men, and was approaching the steamer from right ahead. When about
a hundred yards off it stopped and, while some of us were watching it,
word was passed along that there were large canoes all round the ship.
The steamer’s whistle sounded, this gave them a scare, for they drew
a little further off. Then the boilers started to blow off, causing a
terrible noise, and the whole of the canoes disappeared. The officer
went around the ship to see that there were no ropes or anything
hanging over the side and stationed men all round the ship on the look
out to prevent our being surprised, and we wished for daylight.
About four a.m., the canoes were seen approaching the ship again, so
the captain ordered the brass gun on the bridge to be fired over their
canoes to frighten them, but the quartermaster, quite unknown to the
officers, slipped into the mouth of the gun a number of iron nuts. When
the gun was fired there was terrific yelling and shouting from some of
the canoes in the line of fire, and several of them pulled quickly
away for the shore, the others drawing nearer and nearer to the ship.
Fearing an attack, the engines were put slow ahead, and the steamer
kept slowly steaming around her anchor until the daylight broke, and
we could see the channel. The anchor was then lifted and we passed
slowly out of the bay. What the tale might have been had we been caught
napping during the night, it is hard to say. There must have been at
least three or four hundred natives in the canoes, all armed with
spears and bows and arrows. However, all’s well that ends well, and we
were very glad to get away from that place all well.
A few days afterwards we called at Sandy Point, in the Straits of
Magellan, landed the passengers for that place, took in bunker coals,
and proceeded on our voyage to Liverpool, where we arrived safely
after the usual ups and downs, and after a ninety days’ passage from
Valparaiso. I left the ship after we were paid off, intending to take a
holiday before deciding upon what part of the world I would next visit,
and feeling that a little while on shore would do me good in more ways
than one.