The programme determined on is carried out to the letter. But as the
days pass, and no ship appears, their impatience becomes despondency--
almost despair. Yet this is for the best, as it strengthens a
resolution already in their thoughts, but not finally decided upon.
This is to build a boat. Nor, in this case, is necessity--mother of
invention--the sole impelling influence. Other circumstances aid in
suggesting the scheme, because they favour its execution. There is
timber in plenty on the spot, needing only to be hewn into shape and put
together. The oars, mast, and sail are already on hand; but, above all,
Chips is a ship's carpenter, capable of turning out any sort of craft,
from a dinghy to the biggest of long-boats.
All these advantages taken into account, the task is set about without
further hesitation, and hopefully. A great drawback, however, is their
not being provided with proper tools. They have only a common wood-axe,
a hand-saw, hammer, auger, and their sailor-knives; nor would they be so
well off but for having had them on shore during their brief sojourn in
the cove. Other tools left in the gig are doubtless in her still.
Doing their best with those on hand, the axe is first brought into play,
the negro being the one to wield it. In early life he has cut down many
a tree on the banks of the Mississippi, hundreds bigger than any to be
found in the Fuegian forests. So with a confident air he attacks the
tree which Seagriff points out to be felled first, saying, "Dis nigger
fetch it down quick as de shake ob a nanny-goat's tail, see if him
don't."
And he proceeds to confirm his boast by a vigorous assault upon the
tree, a beech, one of those that have been barked. This circumstance,
too, is in their favour, and saves them time, for the barked trees
having been long dead, their timber is now dry and seasoned, ready for
working up at once. But caution is called for in selecting those to be
cut down. Were they taken indiscriminately, much of Caesar's labour
might be thrown away; for, as has been said, many of the trees are
heart-decayed, without showing outward sign of it, the result of an
ever-humid atmosphere. Aware of this, Chips tries each one by tapping
it with the auger before Caesar lays his axe to it. [Note 1.]
For days after, the chipping strokes of the axe, with the duller thuds
of wood mallets on wedges, awaken echoes in the Fuegian forest such as
may never have been heard there before. When felled, the trunks are cut
to the proper length, and then split into rough planks by means of
wedges, and are afterwards smoothed with the knives.
With such insufficient tools, the work is necessarily slow, and is still
further retarded by another requirement, food, which has meanwhile to be
procured. The supply, however, proves less precarious than was
anticipated, the kelp-bed yielding an unlimited amount of shell-fish.
Daily at ebb-tide, when the rocks are uncovered, the two youths swim out
to it and bring off a good number of limpets and mussels; they also
continue to catch other fish, and now and then a calf seal is clubbed,
which affords a change of diet, a delicate one, too, the fry of the
young seal being equal to that of lamb. The scurvy-grass and wild
celery, moreover, enable "the doctor" to turn out more than one variety
of soup.
But for the still pervading fear of a visit from the savages, and other
anxieties about the future, their existence would be tolerable, if not
enjoyable. It is in no way monotonous, constant work in the
construction of the boat, with other tasks, securing them against that;
and, in such intervals of leisure as they have, kind Nature here, as
elsewhere, treats them to many a curious spectacle. One is afforded by
the "steamer-duck," [Note 2] a bird of commonest occurrence in Fuegian
waters; it is of the genera of Oceanic ducks or geese, having affinity
with both. It is of gigantic size, specimens having been taken over
three feet in length and weighing thirty pounds. It has an enormous
head--hence one of its names, Loggerhead duck--with a hard powerful beak
for smashing open the shells of molluscs, which form its principal food.
Its wings are so short and weak that flight in the air is denied it.
Still it uses them effectually in flapping, which, aided by the beating
of its broad webbed feet, upon stout legs set far back on the body,
enables it to skim over the surface of the water at the rate of fifteen
miles an hour! In its progress, says Darwin, "it makes such a noise and
splashing that the effect is exceedingly curious." The great naturalist
further states that he is "nearly sure the steamer-duck moves its wings
alternately, instead of both together, as other birds move theirs." It
is needless to say that it is from this propulsion by its wings, like
the paddles of a steam-vessel, that the bird has derived the name by
which it is now best known. But it has even yet another, or had in
those days when steam was unknown, the old navigators of Narborough's
time calling it the Racehorse, by reason of its swiftness. A flock
habitually frequents the kelp-bed, so that the boat-builders have them
almost continuously before their eyes, and derive amusement from
watching their odd ways and movements; listening also to the strange
sounds that proceed from them. At ebb-tide, when the rocks are above
water, the steamers assemble on them, and, having finished their repast
of shell-fish, sit pluming themselves, all the while giving utterance to
a chorus of noises that more resembles the croaking of bull-frogs than
the calling of birds. They are shy notwithstanding, both difficult to
approach and hard to kill, the last on account of their strong bony
skulls and dense coat of feathers. But no one much cares to kill them;
their flesh tasting so rank and fishy, that the man must be hungry who
could eat, much less relish it. Withal, sailors who have been for
months on a diet of "salt junk," not only eat, but pronounce it highly
palatable.
Seals are observed every day; on one occasion a seal-mother giving a
curious display of maternal solicitude in teaching her calf to swim.
First taking hold of it by the flipper, and for a while supporting it
above water, with a shove she sends the youngster adrift, leaving it to
shift for itself. In a short time the little creature becomes
exhausted; she takes a fresh grip on its flipper, and again supports it
till it has recovered breath, after which there is another push off,
followed by a new attempt to swim, the same process being several times
repeated to the end of the lesson.
A still rarer and more remarkable spectacle is furnished by a couple of
whales. One calm clear morning, with the water of the strait waveless
and smooth as a mirror, two of these grand cetaceans are seen swimming
along, one in the wake of the other, and so close in shore that they
might almost be reached with the boat-hook. As they swim past the spot
where the boat-builders are at work, they, from their elevated position,
can look down on their spout-holes, and even see them wink! The huge
creatures, slowly gliding on, pass under a beech-tree growing by the
water's edge, so near that their heads are almost brushed by its
drooping branches. While still beneath it one of them blows, sending
aloft a spout that, returning in a shower of spray, falls upon the
leaves with a pattering as of heavy rain.
Soon after, sheering off into mid-channel, and continuing their course,
they blow again and again, each steam-like spray, with the sun upon it,
showing like a silvery cloud, which hangs in the air for more than a
minute ere becoming altogether dissipated.
The marine monsters have come along the arm from the west, and are
proceeding eastward--no doubt making the traverse from ocean to ocean,
in the same direction as the castaways propose to go, if permitted to
finish their boat. But will they be permitted? That is the
ever-recurring question, and constant cause of uneasiness. Their
anxiety about it becomes even keener as the time passes, and their task
draws nearer completion. For, although weeks have now elapsed since the
departure of the fishing party, and nothing more has been seen of them
or any other savages, nor have any fires been visible at night, nor any
smoke by day--still the Fuegians may appear at any moment; and their
fears on this score are not diminished by what Seagriff says in giving
the probable reason for their non-appearance:
"I guess they've gone out seaward, along the west coast, seal-huntin'.
The old seals are tamer at this seezun then any other, an' easier stolen
upon. But the year's on the turn now, an' winter's settin' in;
therefur, we may look out any minute for the ugly critters comin' soon.
Ef we only hed the boat finished an' afloat! How I wish she was in the
water now!"
As all wish the same, there is no relaxation of effort to bring about
the desired end. On the contrary, his words inspire them to renewed
energy for hastening its accomplishment.
Alas! all to no purpose. One morning at daybreak, while on the lookout
with his glass, Captain Gancy sees coming eastward, along the arm, a
fleet of canoes crowded with people, to all appearance the same craft
encountered in Whale-boat Sound.
Believing that they are the same, he cries out in a voice that quivers,
despite his efforts to keep it firm, "There they are at last! Heaven
have mercy on us!"
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Note 1. Nearly all the larger trees in the Fuegian forests have the
heartwood decayed, and are worthless as timber. Out of fifteen cut down
by Captain King's surveying party, near Port Famine, more than half
proved to be rotten at the heart.
Note 2. The _Micropterus brachypterus_ of Quoy and Guimard. The
"steamer-duck" is a feature almost peculiar to the inland Fuegian
waters, and has always been a bird of note among sailors, like the "Cape
pigeons" and "Mother Carey's chickens." There is another and smaller
species, called the "flying steamer," as it is able to mount into the
air. It is called by naturalists _Micropterus Patachonica_.