Talcahuana.—Its Streets.—Public Buildings.—Market.—Calaboose.—The
Harbor.—Churches.—Paulparees.—Inhabitants.—Manners and
Customs.—Getting off Water.—Mackey again in Trouble.—In the
Calaboose.—Californians.—Climate and Products of Chili.—Horseback
Riding.—Spanish Wake.—Desertion.—American Consul.—Mackey’s
Oration.—Swimming ashore.—Departure.
Talcahuana is the sea-port of the city of Conception, and is situated
at the head of a beautiful bay, protected from all winds by the high
lands inclosing it. At the entrance of the harbor is the island of
Karakina, on the north side of which is the passage, and on the south
side the false passage, as it is called, not being navigable for
ships. Abreast of the anchorage, which is immediately in front of the
town, is a small fort, with but few guns, and in a very good position
to do execution, with proper management. The houses are mostly one
story, and of stone. They are obliged to build them thus on account
of frequent earthquakes. They present a very neat appearance, being
nearly all painted white, or whitewashed. The streets are rather
narrow, but kept very clean. Talcahuana can not boast much of her
public buildings, they being “few and far between.” The market, if
it may be so called, is very large in proportion to the size of the
town, being a wide space of ground, inclosed by high brick walls,
with no roof. The church, of which the inhabitants appear very proud,
presents much the appearance of an old stone barn. The calaboose, or
jail, is an old stone building in rather a dilapidated condition; but
the “city fathers,” with a just appreciation of the wants of their
“constituents,” are engaged in the erection of a new one on a much
larger scale.
Immediately in the rear of the town is a fine eminence. On arriving
at its summit we found ourselves well repaid for our trouble by the
beautiful prospect before us. The busy multitude in the streets
below—the neat, bright appearance of the houses—the shipping lying
at anchor, with their various national colors flying—the smooth,
unruffled surface of the waters of the bay, inclosed by beautiful
green hills and mountains—in the distance the blue waters of the
Pacific—all united to bring before us one of the most beautiful
scenes our eyes ever beheld.
A number of years since the old city of Talcahuana was destroyed by
an earthquake, a large portion of which sunk. Where the most thriving
part once stood, nothing is now to be seen but a low, marshy waste.
Some remains of the old city are yet visible in the town.
The inhabitants speak the Spanish language—are hospitable,
good-natured, and, as a general thing, very indolent. They are very
loose in their morals, but warm supporters of their religion, which
is the Roman Catholic, it being the only creed tolerated. The females
are rather dark, very graceful and sprightly, beautiful singers, and
some of them are very handsome. The town is filled with “Paulparee,”
or rum-shops, which are frequented principally by Spaniards and
seamen.
On Monday, March 11th, we commenced getting off water and fresh
provisions, such as potatoes, onions, turnips, etc. In getting
off water, two boat’s crews are generally dispatched to the
watering-place with a “raft of casks,” which are filled and towed
to the ship, and then hoisted on board. In this manner four or five
hundred barrels of water are obtained in about two days—a sufficient
quantity for a six months’ cruise. By some fortune or misfortune,
Mackey was one of the crew dispatched to the watering-place, and,
while there, he thought he would take an observation of the country
round about. Accordingly, he wandered some distance to the top of a
high hill, and, while much engaged in viewing the beauties of nature,
two or three “vigilantes,” or policemen, appeared, and demanded of
him “what he was doing there.” Mackey replied, “Nothing, but looking
at the country.” They then asked him if he had a pass (which is a
necessary article to every person while on shore), and Mackey was
obliged to confess he had not, when they very politely offered to
show him “the elephant.” Mackey begged to be excused, declining
their services; but the vigilantes were not to be put off. There was
no help for him; go he must; he was in a fix; so off he marched,
muttering about liberty, etc., until they arrived at the calaboose,
where he was snugly quartered.
The next day, being on shore, we thought we would give Mackey a call,
and see how the poor fellow fared. We found him in excellent spirits.
He said he “had just as lief stop there as not; for, if he was on
board the ship, he would have to work, and there he got plenty to eat
and had nothing to do.”
To-day the town was filled with Californians and sailors—some trying
their hands at riding on horseback, and rather comical work they make
of it. Others are exploring the town, chatting with pretty girls,
bantering with the Spaniards, or enjoying themselves in dancing.
Some of them require considerable sea-room, whether it is from the
effects of coming ashore after a long passage, or the _spiritual_
influence of the _aguadente_, we can not say. However, they appear to
be perfectly at home and contented.
Chili has a very mild and wholesome climate, and is very fertile.
Large quantities of fine wheat are raised, and agriculture generally
receives much attention. Apples, peaches, and pears are raised in
abundance, while grapes are cultivated to a very great extent,
principally for the purpose of making wine, which is said to be of
a very superior flavor. The face of the country presents a rolling
appearance, with occasional high hills, and in the distance are seen,
towering above the clouds, the snow-covered peaks of the Andes.
Chili is also renowned for its extensive mines of silver, gold,
and copper, which, however, are not worked so much at present as
formerly. The government is republican, and quite liberal in its
views.
The next day, Friday, the 15th of March, we devoted to riding
through the country. The horses here are well trained, but, to one
unaccustomed to the Chilian mode of guiding them, ludicrous incidents
will sometimes occur. If you wish to turn to the left, you must pull
the right rein, and _vice versa_. They are very tender-bitted, and a
slight jerk of the reins will bring the horse to an immediate stand.
It is very common to see a rider urging his horse to a full run,
and, not understanding them, pull the reins in order to sit secure,
when, lo and behold, the horse suddenly stops, and the rider keeps on
going, measuring his length in the road some distance ahead.
While strolling about town in the evening, we heard low musical
sounds proceeding from a house near by. On presenting ourselves at
the door we were cordially invited to enter, and were immediately
ushered into a large, square room, filled with Spaniards of both
sexes. On a table at the farther end of the room was the corpse of a
beautiful child of about two years of age, in a sitting posture. Its
little arms were crossed on its breast; the sweet, heavenly smile
that still lingered on the features of clay, and the fresh, rosy
cheeks, gave it a most beautiful and angelic appearance. Our first
conjecture on entering the room was that it was wax-work. It was
dressed in white, and decorated with flowers. On the table were a
large number of wax tapers burning, while the wall around and above
was covered with paintings of the Crucifixion, Virgin Mary, etc. In
one corner of the room some seven or eight persons were chanting the
solemn death-chants of the Catholic Church, accompanied by several
guitars. The parents of the child were seated on a low bed, mourning
and sobbing in a most piteous manner, while several relatives, as we
supposed them to be, were gathered around, endeavoring to comfort
them in their affliction.
We advanced by invitation and saluted the corpse, and, as our eyes
were fixed on the lovely image, we thought we could almost perceive
it answer our gaze by a sweet smile, so fresh and life-like did it
look. It was truly a solemn, mournful, and yet beautiful sight.
Still, the appearance of the bottle disgraced the scene, as it was
passed from one to the other, although it is customary at all Spanish
wakes.
On the morning of Saturday, the 16th of March, we found that five
men had deserted from the ship. The liberty of the remainder of the
crew was therefore stopped, which appeared to cause considerable
dissatisfaction. However, this was the only course left for the
captain, as most of the men on board had made up their minds to
desert in order to get to California. Stopping all communication of
the crew with the shore must put an end to the desertions.
This state of affairs continued until the following Monday, when
the crew, being so very much dissatisfied, sent a petition to the
American consul requesting to be discharged from the ship. He came
on board, and all those wishing to be discharged were ordered to
take the starboard side of the quarter-deck. The captain, by request
of the consul, inquired of each separately his reasons for wishing
to be discharged. Some gave as a reason that they did not like the
business; others, that they had been ill treated; and one, that he
was under age when he shipped, and he wanted to go home. The consul
could scarcely refrain from laughing outright at such reasons, and
finally told them he could not help them. As they had signed the
ship’s articles, he could not interfere in the matter; the captain
was the man to settle that.
Mackey, who had been intently watching every word that fell from the
lips of the consul, thought it about time for him to put in his oar,
and, speaking out, said he “had been abused at various times, and
once had been kicked while at the helm.” The officer who had taken
this liberty said that “Mackey was asleep at the helm one night, and
he gave him a slight kick, just sufficient to waken him.” The consul
replied that he could do nothing about that. Mackey now broke forth
with great earnestness: “I thought American consuls were sent to
these places to protect and defend American citizens, whether sailors
or captains; but you say you can do nothing about it. What are you
good for, then? What business have you here? You might much better be
at home about your business. Any way, you are good for nothing here
but to pamper to every captain’s wishes that will give you a cake of
hard bread and a pint of beans.”
This speech Mackey delivered with great gusto, making flourishes that
would have shamed an orator. The speech, of course, “brought down
the house,” and caused a broad grin upon the countenance of all. The
consul took it very coolly; the men were sent forward, and he, in
company with the captain, left for shore.
And here we would remark that in many cases Mackey’s words were
true. It is a shameful and lamentable fact, that in many instances
American consuls regard seamen as “having no rights that they are
bound to respect;” and it is often the case that masters of vessels
who have been ill treating their men will, on entering port, present
the consul with a small quantity of provisions, or something of that
kind, and the result is, that no “foremast hand” from that ship can
obtain justice from the consul. We make no comments on this; we
simply state the facts, and let our readers make their own.
Our crew were now heartily sick and tired of port, and longed to be
on the “open sea” again. On Wednesday, March 20th, while all hands
were at breakfast, Mackey determined to make one more effort for
his liberty. Accordingly, he made his clothes up in a nice little
bundle, fastened them on his back, slipped cautiously down the cable,
and struck boldly out for the shore. On his crossing the stern of a
ship, the captain of which had just come on deck, and espying a man
swimming, hailed him:
“Where are you going, my man?”
“Going ashore; where do you suppose?” shouted Mackey.
One of our officers, happening to come up on deck at this moment,
thought he saw something black bobbing up and down in the water
quite a distance off. On looking with the glass, it was found to be
Mackey, with his bunch of clothes on his back, and almost ashore.
A boat was immediately lowered and went in chase. Mackey espied it
coming, and struck out manfully; as for dear life he swam, but it was
of no avail. When nearly to the shore, he was taken and thrust into
the bottom of the boat, brought on board, and put in irons. A ship’s
company near us mounted their rigging and gave “three cheers for the
man who attempted to swim ashore!”
At 10 A.M. of that day we weighed anchor, and, with beautiful weather
and a fine breeze, left the port of Talcahuana.