This renewal of acquaintance, under circumstances so extraordinary as
those detailed in the previous chapter, calls for explanation; for,
although the incident may appear strange, and even improbable, it is,
nevertheless, quite reasonable. How it came about will be learned from
the following relation of facts:--
In the year 1838, the English Admiral Fitzroy--then Captain Fitzroy--
while in command of H.M.S. _Beagle_, engaged in the survey of Tierra del
Fuego, had one of his boats stolen by the natives of Christmas Sound.
Pursuing the thieves, he made capture of a number of their relatives,
but unfortunately not of the actual culprits. For a time he held the
captives as hostages, hoping by that means to effect the return of the
boat. Disappointed in this, however, he at length released them all,
save three who voluntarily remained on board the _Beagle_.
These were two young men and a little girl; and all of them were soon
after baptised by the sailors. One of the men had the name "Boat
Memory" bestowed upon him, because he had been taken at the place where
the boat was stolen. The other was christened "York Minster," after a
remarkable mountain, bearing a fancied resemblance to the famed
cathedral of York, near which he was captured. "Fuegia Basket," as the
girl was called, was named from the wickerwork craft--a sort of
coracle--that the crew of the stolen boat had improvised to carry them
back to their ship.
Later on, the commander of the _Beagle_, while exploring the channel
which now bears his ship's name, picked up another native of a different
tribe. This was a young boy, who was bought of his own uncle for a
button--his unnatural relative freely parting with him at the price!
The transaction suggested the name given him, "Jemmy Button."
Returning soon after to England, Fitzroy, with truly philanthropic
motives, took the four Fuegians along with him. His intentions were to
have them educated and Christianised, and then restored to their native
country, in hopes that they might do something toward civilising it. In
pursuance of this plan, three of the Fuegians were put to school; the
fourth, Boat Memory, having died soon after landing at Plymouth.
When Captain Fitzroy thought their training sufficiently advanced for
his purpose, this humane officer, at his own expense, chartered a vessel
to convey them back to Tierra del Fuego, intending to accompany them
himself; and he did this, although a poor man, and no longer commanding
a ship in commission; the _Beagle_, meanwhile, having been dismantled
and laid up. Think of that, my young readers, and give praise to such
noble self-sacrifice and disinterested philanthropy.
By good fortune, however, Captain Fitzroy was spared this part of the
expense. The survey of Tierra del Fuego and adjacent coasts had not
been completed, and another expedition was sent out by the British
Admiralty, and the command of it entrusted to him. So proceeding
thither in his old ship, the _Beagle_, once more in commission, he
carried his Fuegian _proteges_ along with him.
There went with him, also, a man then little known, but now of
world-wide and universal fame, a young naturalist named Darwin--Charles
Darwin--he who for the last quarter of a century and till his death has
held highest rank among men of science, and has truly deserved the
distinction.
York Minster, Jemmy Button, and Fuegia Basket (in their own country
respectively called Eleparu, Orundelico, and Ocushlu) were the three
odd-looking individuals that Ned and Henry had rescued from the
wharf-rats of Portsmouth; while the officer who appeared on the scene
was Fitzroy himself, then on the way to Plymouth, where the _Beagle_,
fitted out and ready to put to sea, was awaiting him.
In due time, arriving in Tierra del Fuego, the three natives were left
there, with every provision made for their future subsistence. They had
all the means and appliances to assist them in carrying out Captain
Fitzroy's humane scheme: carpentering tools, agricultural implements,
and a supply of seeds, with which to make a beginning. [Note 1.]
Since then nearly four years have elapsed, and lo!--the result. Perhaps
never were good intentions more thoroughly brought to nought, nor
clearer proofs given of their frustration, than these that Henry Chester
and Ned Gancy have now before their eyes. Though unacquainted with most
of the above details, they see a man, all but naked, his hair in matted
tangle, his skin besmeared with dirt and blubber, in everything and to
all appearances as rude a savage as any Fuegian around him, who is yet
the same whom they had once seen wearing the garb and having the manners
of civilisation! They see a girl, too,--now woman-grown--in whom the
change, though less extreme, is still strikingly sadly for the worse.
In both, the transformation is so complete, so retrograde, so contrary
to all experience, that they can scarcely realise it. It is difficult
to believe that any nature, however savage, after such pains had been
taken to civilise it, could so return to itself! It seems a very
perversity of backsliding!
But this is not a time for the two young men to inquire into the cause
of this falling away, nor might that be a pleasant subject to those who
have thus relapsed, so they refrain from appearing even to notice it.
They are too overjoyed in knowing that they and their companions are no
longer in danger.
Of their safety they have full and instant assurance, by the behaviour
of Eleparu, who has taken in the situation at a glance. Apparently head
of the community, with a shout and authoritative wave of the hand he
sends off those who so lately had threatened to attack them. But all
seem friendly enough, now that they see him so, having, indeed, no
reason to be otherwise. Hunger chiefly had made them hostile; and now
they need hunger no more.
Accordingly, they at once set about appeasing their appetites--on
blubber! Not with indiscriminate appropriation of it, for it is a
supply that must carry them over days, or perhaps weeks. Annaqua, with
another of the old men, serves it out in equal rations, first cutting it
into strips, like strings of sausages, then measuring off
different-sized pieces, according to the sex and age of the recipients.
Strange to say, notwithstanding the keen hunger of those seeking relief,
not one of them touches a morsel till the partition is complete and each
has his share. Then, at a given signal, they fall to, bolting the
blubber raw--only a few of the more fastidious holding it a second or
two in the blaze of the fires, scarcely long enough to scorch it!
During these unpleasant _saturnalia_, mutual explanations are exchanged
between Eleparu and the two young men of his former brief but memorable
acquaintance. He first inquires how they come to be there; then tells
his own story, or such part of it as he desires them to know. They
learn from him that Ocushlu is now his wife; but when questioned about
the boy, and what has become of him, he shows reserve, answering, "Oh,
Jemmy Button--he not of our people; he Tekeneeka. English officer
brought Jemmy back too--left him at Woolya--that his own country--lie
out that way;" and he points eastward along the arm.
Observing his reticence on the subject of Orundelico, the questioners
forbear asking further, while other matters of more importance claim
their attention.
Meanwhile, Ocushlu is engaged in conversation with Mrs Gancy and
Leoline. She is about the same age as the latter; but in other respects
how different they are, and what a contrast they form! The poor Fuegian
herself seems to realise it, and with sadness of heart. Who could
interpret her thoughts when, after gazing at the beautiful white girl,
clean-skinned and becomingly attired, her glance is turned to her own
slightly-clad and uncleanly self? Perhaps she may be thinking of the
time when, a schoolgirl at Walthamstow, she, too, wore a pretty dress,
and perchance bitterly regrets having returned to her native land and
barbarism. Certainly, the expression on her countenance seems a
commingling of sadness and shame.
But whatever, at the moment, may be her reflections or feelings,
ingratitude is not among them. Having learned that Leoline is the
sister of one of the youths who so gallantly espoused the cause of her
companions and herself in a far-off foreign land, she takes from her
neck a string of the much-prized violet shells, and hangs it around that
of the white girl, saying, "For what your brother did at Portsmouth."
The graceful act is reciprocated, and with interest, both mother and
daughter presenting her with such articles of apparel as they can spare,
among them the costly scarf they so nearly had to part with in a less
satisfactory way.
Equally grateful proves Eleparu. Seeing the unfinished boat, and
comprehending the design, he lends himself to assist in its execution.
No slight assistance does he prove; as, during the many months passed on
board the _Beagle_, York had picked up some knowledge of ship-carpentry.
So the task of boat-building is resumed, this time to be carried on to
completion. And with so great expedition, that in less than a week
thereafter, the craft is ready for launching, and on the next day it is
run off the "chocks" into the water, a score of the Fuegian men lending
helping hands.
On the following morning, with the party of castaways and all their
belongings on board, it is shoved off, and moves swiftly away, amidst a
paean of friendly shouts from the savages. Eleparu leads the
valedictory salute, and Ocushlu waves the red scarf high over her head.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. A young missionary named Mathews, who had volunteered, was
taken out and left with them. But Captain Fitzroy, revisiting Woolya,
the intended mission station, a few days after, found Mathews threatened
with death at the hands of those he had hoped to benefit. During the
interval, the savages had kept the poor fellow in constant fear for his
life, even Jemmy Button and York having been unable to protect him.
Captain Fitzroy took him away, and he afterwards carried on missionary
work among the Maories of New Zealand.