As if Captain Gancy's petition had been heard by the All-Merciful, and
is about to have favourable response, the next morning breaks clear and
calm; the fog all gone, and the sky blue, with a bright sun shining in
it--rarest of sights in the cloudlands of Tierra del Fuego. All are
cheered by it, and, with reviving hope, eat breakfast in better spirits,
a fervent grace preceding.
They do not linger over the repast, as the skipper and Seagriff are
impatient to ascend to the summit of the isle, the latter in hopes of
making out some remembered landmark. The place where they have put in
is on its west side, and the high ground interposed hinders their view
to the eastward, while all seen north and south is unknown to the old
carpenter.
They are about starting off, when Mrs Gancy says interrogatively, "Why
shouldn't we go too?"--meaning herself and Leoline, as the daughter is
prettily named.
"Yes, papa," urges the young girl; "you'll take us with you, won't you?"
With a glance up the hill, to see whether the climb be not too
difficult, he answers, "Certainly, dear; I've no objection. Indeed, the
exercise may do you both good, after being so long shut up on board
ship."
"It would do us all good," thinks Henry Chester, for a certain reason
wishing to be of the party, that reason, as a child might see, being
Leoline. He does not speak his wish, however, backwardness forbidding,
but is well pleased at hearing her brother, who is without bar of this
kind, cry out, "Yes, father. And the other pair of us, Harry and
myself, would like to go too. Neither of us have got our land legs yet,
as we found yesterday while fighting the penguins. A little
mountaineering will help to put the steady into them."
"Oh, very well," assents the good-natured skipper. "You may all come--
except Caesar. He had better stay by the boat, and keep the fire
burning."
"Jess so, Massa Cap'n, an' much obleeged to ye. Dis chile perfur
stayin'. Golly! I doan' want to tire myse'f to deff a-draggin' up dat
ar pressypus. 'Sides, I hab got ter look out for de dinner, 'gainst yer
gettin' back."
"The doctor" [The popular sea-name for a ship's cook] speaks the truth
in saying he does not wish to accompany them, being one of the laziest
mortals that ever sat roasting himself beside a galley fire. So,
without further parley, they set forth, leaving him by the boat.
At first they find the uphill slope gentle and easy, their path leading
through hummocks of tall tussac, whose tops rise above their heads, and
the flower-scapes many feet higher. Their chief difficulty is the
spongy nature of the soil, in which they sink at times ankle-deep. But
farther up it is drier and firmer, the lofty tussac giving place to
grass of humbler stature; in fact, a sward so short, that the ground
appears as though freshly mown. Here the climbers catch sight of a
number of moving creatures, which they might easily mistake for
quadrupeds. Hundreds of them are running to and fro like rabbits in a
warren, and quite as fast. Yet they are really birds, penguins of the
same species which supplied so considerable a part of their yesterday's
dinner and to-day's breakfast. The strangest thing of all is that these
Protean creatures, which seem fitted only for an aquatic existence,
should be so much at home on land, so ably using their queer wings as
substitutes for legs that they can run up or down high and precipitous
slopes with the swiftness of a hare.
From the experience of yesterday, Ned and Harry might anticipate attack
by the penguins. But that experience has taught the birds a lesson,
which they now profit by, scuttling off, frightened at the sight of the
murderous invaders, who have made such havoc among them and their
nestlings.
On the drier upland still another curious bird is encountered, singular
in its mode of breeding and other habits. A petrel it is, about the
size of a house pigeon, and of a slate-blue colour. This bird, instead
of laying its eggs, like the penguin, on the surface of the ground,
deposits them, like the sand-martin and burrowing owl, at the bottom of
a burrow. Part of the ground over which the climbers have to pass is
honeycombed with these holes, and they see the petrels passing in and
out; Seagriff, meanwhile, imparting a curious item of information about
them. It is that the Fuegians capture these birds by tying a string to
the legs of certain small birds, and force them into the petrels' nests,
whereupon the rightful owners, attacking and following the intruders as
they are jerked out by the cunning decoyers, are themselves captured.
Continuing upward, the slope is found to be steeper, and more difficult
than was expected. What from below seemed a gentle acclivity turns out
to be almost a precipice--a very common illusion with those unaccustomed
to mountain climbing. But they are not daunted--every one of the men
has stood on the main truck of a tempest-tossed ship. What to this were
even the scaling of a cliff? The ladies, too, have little fear, and
will not consent to stay below, but insist on being taken to the very
summit.
The last stage proves the most difficult. The only practicable path is
up a sort of gorge, rough-sided, but with the bottom smooth and slippery
as ice. It is grass-grown all over, but the grass is beaten close to
the surface, as if schoolboys had been "coasting" down it. All except
Seagriff suppose it to be the work of the penguins--he knows better what
has done it. Not birds, but beasts, or "fish," as he would call them--
the _amphibia_ in the chasing, killing, and skinning of which he has
spent many years of his life. Even with his eyes shut he could have
told it was they, by a peculiar odour unpleasant to others, though not
to him. To his olfactories it is the perfume of Araby.
"Them fur-seals hev been up hyar," he says, glancing up the gorge.
"They kin climb like cats, spite o' thar lubberly look, and they delight
in baskin' on high ground. I've know'd 'em to go up a hill steeper an'
higher 'n this. They've made it as smooth as ice, and we'll hev to hold
on keerfully. I guess ye'd better all stay hyar till I give it a
trial."
"Oh, it's nothing, Chips," says young Gancy, "we can easily swarm up."
He would willingly take the lead himself, but is lending a hand to his
mother; while, in like manner, Henry Chester is entrusted with the care
of Leoline--a duty he would be loth to transfer to another.
The older sealer makes no more delay, but, leaning forward and clutching
the grass, draws himself up the steep slope. In the same way the
Captain follows; then Ned, carefully assisting his mother; and lastly,
but with no less alacrity, the young Englishman helping Leoline.
Seagriff, still vigorous--for he has not much passed manhood's prime--
and unhampered, reaches the head of the gorge long before the others.
But as soon as his eyes are above it, and he has a view of the summit
level, he sees there something to astonish him: the whole surface,
nearly an acre in extent, is covered with fur-seals, lying close
together like pigs in a stye.
This sight, under other circumstances, he would have hailed with a shout
of joy; but now it elicits from him a cry of apprehension, for the seals
have taken the alarm, too, and are coming on in a rush toward the
ravine, knowing that it is their only way to the water.
"Thunder an' airthquakes!" he exclaims, in highest pitch of voice.
"Look out thar, below!"
They do look out, or rather up, and with no little alarm. But the cause
of it none can as yet tell. But they see Seagriff spring to one side of
the gorge and catch hold of a rock to steady himself, while he shouts to
them to do the same. Of course, they obey; but they barely have time to
get out of the ravine's bed before a stream, a torrent, a very cataract
of living forms comes pouring down it--very monsters in appearance, all
open-mouthed, and each mouth showing a double row of glittering teeth.
A weird, fear-inspiring procession it is, as they go floundering past,
crowding one another, snapping, snorting, and barking, like so many
mastiffs!
Fortunately for the spectators, the creatures are fur-seals, and not the
fierce sea-lions; for the fur-seal is inoffensive, and shows fight only
when forced to it. These are but acting in obedience to the most
ordinary instinct, as they are seeking self-preservation by retreat to
the sea--their true home and haven of safety.
The flurry lasts for but a brief while, ending as abruptly as it began.
When all the seals have passed, our party resume the ascent and continue
it till all stand upon the summit. But not _all_ in silence; for
turning his eyes north-eastward, and seeing there a snow-covered
mountain--a grand cone, towering thousands of feet above all the
others--Seagriff plucks off his hat, and, waving it around his head,
sends up a joyous huzza, cries out, "Now I know whar we are better 'n a
hul ship full o' kompa an' kernometors kud tell us. _Yon's Sarmiento_!"