Fleming and his old shipmate, Tom Carver, kept spinning their
interesting yarns about Lord Cochrane's gallant deeds till a late hour.
At last it was time to go to sleep; so we wrapped ourselves up as
closely as we could in our cloaks, with our feet to the fire and our
backs to the rock, to seek repose. Fleming, and Tom, and the doctor,
however, kept watch one after the other, both to keep up the fire and to
prevent our being taken by surprise by the visit of a puma, or any other
unwelcome visitor. By-the-by, the doctor told us that the puma very
seldom seeks his prey in the day-time, or attacks men, though he has
been known to do so at times. The fellow we killed measured fully five
feet from the nose to the tail, which was itself, in addition, two feet
and a half long. The back was of a brownish-red colour, and the breast
of a reddish ash colour, and the lower jaw and throat white. Its face
was like that of a huge cat, and it is said to be able to climb trees,
and to drop down from them on its prey. Its ordinary way of seizing its
prey is to spring on the back, and draw back the head of the animal till
its neck is broken. The guanaco, which is common throughout South
America, was used by the ancient Peruvians, in great numbers, as a beast
of burden. It carried about a hundredweight. Its flesh also served
them for food; of its skin leather articles were made, and its hair was
woven into cloth. When domesticated, it is known as the llama. It
feeds on vegetables, and requires no attention. Its voice resembles the
shrill neighing of a horse. Its use as a beast of burden has been
superseded by the horse, the ass, and the mule. The fleece of the tame
animal is not so long as that of the wild one. Their appearance I have
already described. I shall never forget that night among the Andes,--
how the stars of the southern hemisphere came out, and shone with a
brilliancy I had never before seen in that purest of pure atmospheres,
among those grand old mountains. For a long time I could not go to
sleep: at last I did, and it seemed but a moment afterwards that Terry
aroused me to go with Tom and the Indian guide to bring the guanaco and
the skin of the puma. With their aid we were not long in finding the
puma, and in having his skin off him. We found the first guanaco
untouched, so we took his skin and some of the flesh. As, however, we
were looking for the spot where we had left the other, a huge condor
rose into the air, followed by two or three others.
"Ah! you'll not find much beyond his bones, depend on that," said Tom.
"These birds don't leave pickings for anybody else."
Such being the case, we agreed that it was not worth while to climb up
so far, as we were in a hurry to get back to the rock to breakfast.
Directly after it we set off on our return to the city. The natives of
Chili, we were told, often catch the puma with the lasso. They also
hunt it with dogs, and shoot it when it climbs up trees. When we came
to the bridge of hide-rope it looked more rickety and impassable than
ever. Just fancy a few rotten-looking strips of leather slung across a
chasm some thousand feet deep!
"Never mind," said Fleming, laughing; "hold on to something. If it give
way don't you let go, at all events, and the chances are you are brought
up somewhere. My maxim is, Never let go of one rope till you have got
hold of another."
However, we crossed in safety, and spent a very pleasant day at
Santiago, seeing all the sights of that city, though Jerry and I agreed
that we would rather have been in the mountains shooting guanacoes or
hunting pumas,--so I daresay would old Surley. We got back in good time
to Valparaiso. When dining at the hotel, we met an Englishman who had
travelled over all parts of South America, and had made an infinite
number of sketches, which he did in the most rapid way. He made me a
present of several, which he drew at the hotel; among them was the
Frontispiece to this volume. He gave us the following information at
the same time. He told us that apes' flesh was very nice for eating--a
fact some of our party were inclined to doubt. He laughed at our
scruples, and assured us that he had frequently dined off apes. The
Indians on the Amazon go out regularly to hunt them, and have a very
successful mode of so doing. Every hunter is provided with a hollow
cane, called a sarbacan--I before described it in our trip up the
Amazon. It is about twelve feet in length; and a quiver containing a
dozen little pieces of very hard wood, sharp at one end, and fitted with
a bit of cotton-wadding at the other. Concealed by the luxuriant
foliage of the forest, the Indian, resting his sarbacan on the branch of
a tree, waits the near approach of his prey; then blowing out one of the
little polished arrows from the tube with his mouth, he invariably
strikes the ape, and brings him to the ground. What ensures the success
of this mode of hunting is, that it is carried on without the slightest
noise, and a whole troop of apes may be killed without their discovering
whence the death-dealing darts proceed. When we were on the Amazon we
did not know that the poor monkeys were killed in this way. I forgot to
mention before the beautiful regularity of the land and sea-breezes
which we experienced at this place. It was the dry season of the year,
and the air was wonderfully bright and clear. The atmosphere being in a
state of equilibrium (so the doctor told us), was ready to obey even the
slightest impulse, and to rush towards any spot where rarefaction was
taking place. Thus, at about ten in the morning, as the rays of the sun
gain power and shed their influence over the earth, the air from the sea
begins to move towards it. As rarefaction increases, so does the
strength of the wind, till by three or four in the afternoon it rushes
in with great force, creating a considerable sea, and if a vessel is not
well moored, driving her before it. Captain Frankland knew what to
expect, and was therefore prepared for the emergency.
On the afternoon of our return to Valparaiso, we put to sea. From the
cause I have mentioned respecting the strength of the sea-breeze, it is
necessary to make a good offing from the land. We therefore stood off
shore till we had sunk the tops of the Andes below the horizon. The
name of the _Pacific_ was given to this ocean by the Spaniards, who
first crossed the Isthmus of Panama, under the belief that the whole sea
was always as calm as was then the portion they beheld. Storms, if less
frequent, are certainly not less violent than in other portions of the
world. We certainly very frequently experienced the fickleness of the
elements. As we were about to haul up to the northward, the wind
suddenly shifted round to that very quarter, and then shifted somewhat
to the eastward. We stood away on the starboard-tack, but were
evidently making a great deal of lee-way. At last Captain Frankland,
finding that no progress could be made, hove the ship to. Jerry and I
had by this time got pretty well accustomed to knocking about, so that
we did not mind it. We suffered the greatest inconvenience at our
meals, because very often the soup which we had intended to put into our
mouths without signal or warning rolled away into the waistcoat-pockets
of our opposite neighbour. The doctor more than once suffered from
being the recipient of the contents of Jerry's plate as well as of mine;
but he took it very good-naturedly, and as he very soon returned us the
compliment, we were all square. Not long after dinner, while we were on
deck, Ben Yool, who was aloft, hailed to say that he saw bearing right
down for us a large brig, and, considering the gale, that she was
carrying a wonderful press of canvas. Her courses were brailed up, but
her topsails were set, while the top-gallant-sails and royals were
flying away in ribbons, except the main-royal, which, with the mast, had
gone over the side. We accordingly all looked out for her. We soon, as
we rose to the summit of a long rolling sea, caught sight of her,
plunging over the foaming waters and often half buried in them. There
was something very strange in her appearance, and in the way she came
tearing along through the waters. Captain Frankland looked at her
attentively through his glass.
"I cannot make it out," he exclaimed; "the people on board are either
all drunk or must have gone mad."
We were not kept long in suspense. On came the brig. She was a
fine-looking vessel; but such a sight met our eyes as I never expected
to see. Her deck was crowded with men, but instead of attempting to
shorten sail, they were all shrieking and fighting together. One party
seemed to have taken possession of the after-part of the vessel, the
rest were forward--while in the intermediate space several lay weltering
in their blood. Now one party would rush forward and meet the other in
the waist, and then after a desperate struggle one would retreat before
the other. Thus they continued as long as they remained in sight. It
appeared, from the glimpse we got of them as they drove by, that the
crew had risen against their officers, who were fighting to regain the
upper hand. What they were it was difficult to say, but their
appearance bespoke them to be a great set of ruffians. I asked Ben Yool
what he thought of them.
"To my mind, Master Harry, they are nothing better than a set of
pirates, and I had just as soon not have fallen in with them in smooth
water."
Every spy-glass on board was directed towards them. Strange as it
appeared, there could be no doubt about the matter. In spite of the
terrific gale--in spite of the prospect of the masts going overboard,
and of the ship being reduced to a complete wreck, an event which might
any moment occur, the wretched crew of the brig were destroying each
other with the maddest fury. From the state of things on board as we
saw them, the chances were that the survivors of the victorious party
would not have strength to take in sail or clear the deck at the end of
the fight.
"That was an extraordinary spectacle we have just witnessed," observed
Cousin Silas, as Jerry and I were holding on to the rails near him as
the strange brig disappeared, hidden by the dark foam-topped waves which
leaped up between her and us. "Never heard anything like it before,
perhaps you will say, lads. Now, in my opinion, you have heard of many
things exactly like it before. What is the world doing at the present
moment? What has it been doing since the flood? Men have been
quarrelling, and fighting, and knocking each other on the head, while
ruin has been encircling them around, from that time to the present. We
were sent into this world to perform certain duties--to help each other
in doing them--to love God and to love each other. If we obey God, we
are promised eternal happiness: if we disobey him, eternal punishment.
We are told that this world must come to an end, and that all things in
it will be destroyed. What do men do? They shut their eyes to all
these truths. They live as if they and everything in the world were to
last for ever--as if there were no God to obey and love; and, like the
madmen we have just seen, they separate into parties, hating each other,
and fight, and quarrel, and deface God's image in which he made man,
utterly regardless of the terrible doom awaiting them--just as the
people aboard that ship were doing."
"The simile would not have occurred to me, Mr Brand," observed Jerry.
"I see it now, though. Still, if people do as little harm as they can,
it is all right."
"No, no, lad. Don't for a moment indulge in such an erroneous, foolish
notion, put into people's heads by the spirit of evil himself, to
deceive them. I tell you we were sent into the world not only to
abstain from sin, but to do as much good as we can--to actively employ
ourselves--to look about us to see how we can do good,--not to wait till
some opportunity occurs that may never come. But we are certain to find
some good work if we look for it; and if your heart is right towards
God, and you earnestly wish to serve him, and not the world, and not
yourself, he will point out to you what to do."
The conversation was interrupted by a heavy lurch the ship made, which
sent Jerry and me tumbling away into the lee scuppers; a huge sea at the
same moment came rolling up with a foaming crest towards us. It caught
the brig broad on the bow--up it rose like a wall, and then with a loud
angry roar fell right over us. I felt myself swimming in deep water,
with my mouth full and almost blinded. I heard Jerry's cry close to me.
The dreadful thought occurred to me that we were both overboard, and
the utter impossibility of lowering a boat to save us flashed across me.
I shrieked out for help. A whirl--a confused sound of roaring, hissing
waters--a sensation of battling and struggling with them--an eager
desire to clutch at something,--are all I remember. Down came the gale
on the ship with greater fury than before--another sea from the opposite
quarter struck her. I felt myself grasped by a strong arm, and when I
opened my eyes, I saw that I was being dragged up to windward by Cousin
Silas, who, at the imminent risk of losing his own life, had sprung out
with a rope in his hand and hauled me on board again.
"Oh, where is Jerry--where is Jerry?" were the first words I uttered.
No one answered. "Oh, he is lost! he is lost!" I cried, and burst into
tears, forgetting altogether to thank Cousin Silas for having saved me.
I felt that I could never survive the loss of my young shipmate. Just
then I saw several of the crew running to leeward. Two or three heads
were in the water, with arms wildly striking out. Shrieks, too, rung in
my ears. Ben Yool was among them; I saw his face clearly; he did not
seem alarmed, like the rest. A long rope was hove to him. He grasped
it. He struck out towards another of the swimmers; it was Jerry. Ben
seized him in one of his arms, while he was striking out with the other.
There seemed, however, but little chance for him of escaping with his
life; for when the ship again surged ahead, the rope would have been
torn from his grasp, but just then another cross sea providentially
rolled up to leeward, and sent him and Jerry close up to the bulwarks.
There they were grasped by the crew, and when the ship rolled over again
to the other side, they were hauled on board safe and sound. Two other
men remained in the water. They turned their faces with straining
eyeballs imploringly towards the ship, which was drifting from them. In
vain they shrieked out; no one could help them. A foaming, hissing sea
rose between us and them. Far, far away the unhappy men were carried,
and when the ship rose again to the summit of a wave, they were nowhere
to be seen. I felt then how mercifully I had been preserved, and
grateful to Him who had thought fit to save me, while, for his own
inscrutable ends, he had allowed others to be taken. Jerry, I know, had
the same thoughts and feelings, though I fear their impression soon
faded, but not away altogether. Its traces, however faint, were
permanently left on our minds, and I believe that they have often since
had a powerful influence on us. I hope, also, as we grow older, that we
may often recur to them instead of endeavouring to drive them away.
Joyful as Captain Frankland was at recovering his son, he felt much the
loss of his two men; for he truly was the father of his crew, and they
knew and gladly acknowledged it. This was the secret of the influence
he had over them. The ship still lay to, but the gale increased.
Suddenly there was a loud report, like a clap of thunder. The
fore-top-sail, close-reefed as it was, had blown out of the bolt-ropes,
and the shreds fluttered in streamers from the yards. Away it flew,
lashing the yard with fury, and coiling itself into thick twists of
rope. The wind unfortunately caught the bow, and bringing her right
round, exposed her broadside to the sea. The instant the accident
happened, the mates, with some of the crew, had rushed forward, and
loosing the fore-stay-sail, were hoisting it just as a big sea came
roaring towards us. It was half way up at the moment the sea reached
us. "Hoist away, my lads!" was the general cry. The ship felt its
effects; springing forward, she seemed to dash through the sea, which,
however, broke in a deluge over us. Her head came round, and away she
flew before the storm. Before, however, the fore-stay-sail was up it
was blown clean away, and the ship dashed on under bare poles to the
westward, leaving our two poor shipmates in their watery tomb far
astern. All that night we ran plunging on. In the morning watch the
wind began to fall. I asked Yool, who was in the same watch with me,
what he thought was going to happen.
"Why, Master Harry, that the gale is tired of blowing, and that we shall
before long have a calm, or only just a light, pleasant breeze," he
answered. So it proved; after this the wind rapidly decreased, and by
sunrise all hands were aloft bending new sails, and busily employed in
repairing the damages received in the gale. Just as the captain came on
deck, one of the mates hailed from aloft that he saw a whale, or a rock,
or some large black object, just rising out of the water--he could not
make out what.
We had been on the point of hauling our wind to stand back for Callao,
but the captain ordered the ship to be kept on, to ascertain what the
object could be. I with others had gone aloft to look out also, when,
as the sun arose, I saw before me what I at first took to be a cloud,
but gradually it grew more and more distinct, till I was certain that it
was a lofty mountain. The rest of the crew were so busily employed
about the rigging, and in looking out for the whale or whatever it was,
that I was the first to see it;--of this I was very proud.
"Land ahead!" I sung out.
"Ay, ay; all right, Harry," he answered, knowing of course what land it
must be. I soon after went down on deck, where I met Jerry, looking
rather pale and ill after his bath.
"Do you know what that land is?" I asked, pointing to it; for with the
increasing light it was now seen clearly from the deck.
"Why, it's no other than Robinson Crusoe's island--Juan Fernandes; and
my father says he intends to run in there, as it will be more convenient
to repair damages at anchor; and he thinks that very likely the gale may
come back again on us. Won't it be jolly to go on shore and to see the
very cave he lived in, and the sand where he first saw Friday's
foot-mark, and the descendants of the goats he had, and various other
animals? I am certain I could find out every spot of ground he talks
about. There's no place I would rather see than this."
"So would I," I observed. "But you forget, Jerry, there was no such
person as Robinson Crusoe. We may be disappointed when we get there."
"I won't believe it!" he answered, indignantly. "There was, and there
must have been, and there shall have been a Robinson Crusoe! How could
he have written his life if he had not lived, I should like to know?"
"There was a man called Alexander Selkirk, who was left there from one
of Lord Anson's ships, and a first-rate writer--Daniel Defoe by name--
got hold of his account, on which he founded the story of Robinson
Crusoe," I answered.
"I tell you that is all bosh," said Jerry. "I don't believe that any
man who had not gone through every scene he describes, could have given
as good an account of them as does Robinson Crusoe; so I intend to stick
to my belief, and not care what anybody else says on the subject." I
must own that I felt very much inclined to agree with Jerry, and to look
on Defoe very much in the light of a pirate, who had got hold of a ship
which did not belong to him. The important discussion was cut short by
the report of the first mate, who had again gone aloft with his glass to
take another look at the object seen ahead.
"As far as I can see, I've no doubt that it is the hull of a ship
floating bottom uppermost," he sung out; "but whether any one is still
clinging to her or not, is more than I can make out."
"Get one of the boats ready, Mr Brand; we'll board the wreck, at all
events," said the captain. While the boat was quickly prepared, we made
good progress towards the wreck.
"There is a man on her; I can see him clearly," sung out the third mate
from forward. "He is lying along the keel. He is alive; he sees us; he
is waving to us."
As soon as the ship got up to the wreck, she was hove-to, and I followed
Mr Brand, with Ben Yool, into the boat. There was still a great deal
of sea running; and when we got up to the wreck, there was no little
danger, we discovered, in getting alongside her. There were masts and
spars still hanging on by the rigging around her, which would at once
have stove in our boat if we had got among them incautiously, and we
should very likely have lost our own lives. There was only one man on
the ship's bottom; we saw him just lifting his head and watching us
anxiously as we pulled round. We could discover no spot free from
danger; so we pulled off again to consult what was best to be done. The
poor wretch thought we were going to desert him, and shouted out to us
in English and Spanish, imploring us to have compassion on him, and save
his life.
"Ay, ay, friend!" answered Ben Yool. "Don't suppose we'd leave you
there; we should be rum sort of Christians to do that. Wait a bit;
we'll get you off directly."
"He appears to be unable to help himself, or he might lower himself down
by a rope," observed Mr Brand. "Make a line fast round me; I think
that I could manage to got in just under the quarter, and so haul myself
up by some of the ropes I see hanging over it."
To propose was with Cousin Silas to act, and in another moment he was
striking out towards the wreck. Avoiding the main-mast--close to which,
with some of its spars, he had to pass--he at length got hold of the
quarter without injury. He was soon up alongside the stranger. The man
was apparently unable to walk; so Mr Brand supported him as he helped
him along the keel, till he reached the after-part; and then, securing a
line to him, he beckoned us to pull in, while he lowered both himself
and the man into the boat. We quickly pulled back again, before the
shattered mast drove towards the hull. From the appearance of the
wreck, she did not look as if she would have floated much longer. The
stranger was a mulatto--a fine, tall fellow, apparently, but now looking
very wretched and weak from loss of blood and want of food. We soon had
him on board, dried and put into a clean hammock, under the doctor's
care. His manner at first was rough, and somewhat sullen; but it
improved by degrees, and he seemed grateful for the kindness shown to
him. He was evidently suffering so much from pain that no one asked him
for particulars about the wreck, or how he had been brought into his
present position. It was not till the doctor came in to dinner that we
began to suspect the truth.
"Do you know that that man has received a couple of desperate wounds
with a long, sharp knife?" said he. "When I discovered this, it
occurred to me that he must have been one of the crew of the vessel
which passed us yesterday, and that she had met the fate which was to be
expected."
"No doubt about it," answered Captain Frankland. "I have thought so
from the first; but I did not wish to prejudice anybody against the
man."
"He is not disinclined to be communicative; but whether he speaks the
truth or not is another question," said the doctor. "He says that the
vessel capsized was a Peruvian brig; that he and another man had a
quarrel, in which he received two stabs; that soon after the brig was
struck by a squall, and capsized; that one of the boats was uninjured,
and that some dozen people escaped in her."
"I think the latter part of his account is very likely in some respects
to be true," observed Captain Frankland. "If so, they are a class of
gentry we must be on the watch for and keep clear of. They cannot be
far-off, and they are not likely to stand on ceremony, if they want a
ship, which is probable, about helping themselves to the first they fall
in with likely to suit them."
Jerry and I agreed, however, that we should very much like to meet with
the pirates and have a brush with them.
"They would find us better prepared than they expected," said he. "They
do not know, besides our big guns, what a supply of arms we have on
board."
Notwithstanding our strong suspicions of the character of the stranger,
he was treated from the first with every possible kindness. All this
time we were approaching Robinson Crusoe's island. We almost expected
to see a man dressed in goat-skins, with a high conical cap, a gun in
his hand, and a negro and goat moving behind him, waiting on the shore
to welcome us. In my opinion, he would have found his dress of skins
very hot in that climate, while his savage could have been only of a
lightish-brown colour. As we drew in with the land, rocks, trees, and
shrubs, clothing the sides of the lofty and picturesque mountains, grew
more and more distinct; and then a few cottages peeped out here and
there, and a fort guarding the only harbour, with the Chilian flag
flying over it, showing us that it was no longer a deserted island; but,
unfortunately, the inhabitants we found were not of a class to make it
the abode of peace and contentment. The Chilian Government have turned
it into a penal settlement, and the chief residents are the convicts and
their guards. It is only to be hoped that the result of their labours
may make it a fitter place for the habitation of more virtuous people.
We ran into the harbour, which is nearly land-locked, and dropped our
anchor. It was a curious feeling, coming suddenly from the storm-tossed
ocean, to find ourselves surrounded by land, with lofty mountains rising
up from the shore close to us. We all agreed that we were never in a
more beautiful or picturesque spot. Even now the town is a very rough
sort of a place. There might have been a hundred cottages, some neatly
white-washed, but others made only of boughs and mud; and even the
governor's house is only of one story. The fort was a mere stockade,
and of little use as a defence. The governor was an Englishman, who
belonged to the Chilian navy. Poor fellow! his was a very unpleasant
and dull life; for, except a priest and the officer in command of the
soldiers, he had no one with whom he could converse. While the crew
were employed in setting up the rigging, Jerry and I and the doctor
accompanied Captain Frankland on shore. We were received on landing by
a very ragged set of soldiers, many of whom had not even shoes on their
feet, and all, more or less, seem to have borrowed some of Robinson
Crusoe's garments. Besides the governor's house, there was a chapel--a
little, low building, with a cross on the top of it to show its object.
The poor soldiers crowded round us, and asked if we had shoes to sell.
Fortunately there were some cases on board, one of which the captain
sent for; and the third mate, who acted as supercargo, disposed of the
whole of them, though there was some difficulty in finding articles for
barter when their cash ran short. Had not the governor helped them,
they would have remained shoeless. We were delighted with the quantity
of fruit which was brought to us. There were cherries, and very large
strawberries, and melons, and grapes--all of which, we had no doubt,
were planted originally by Robinson Crusoe. We lunched with the
governor; and then, while the captain returned on board, Jerry and I and
the doctor started with a guide to take a long walk into the country.
Away we went, highly delighted, and soon found ourselves in a beautiful
and fertile valley, with waterfalls coming down the sides of the hills,
and bright streams and ponds. We came, too, upon a flock of goats; and
one very old fellow had a nick in his ear, so we had no doubt that he
was one of those left by Robinson Crusoe himself. The doctor would not
give, an opinion on the subject, but Jerry asserted that there could not
be a shadow of doubt about it. Going on a little further, we came upon
a cave--a veritable cave--in the side of the mountain, with a sort of
rough porch in front of it, built of boughs and thatched with straw.
Jerry uttered a loud shout of delight.
"There!" he exclaimed. "I knew it was all true. Why, there is the very
hut Robinson Crusoe built for himself."
His voice must have aroused some one who was within, for a door was
pushed open, and a figure appeared, who, if he was not Robinson Crusoe,
was very like pictures of him. He had a long beard, and was dressed in
goat-skins, and had sandals on his feet, and a thick stick in his hand--
altogether a very wild-looking character. Jerry drew back, and looked
at him very much as if by some incantation he had conjured up the spirit
of the long-departed hero.
"It can't be Crusoe!" he gasped out. "Yet, if it isn't, who can he be?"
At length he gained courage, and both of us slowly approaching the man,
he said, with a desperate effort, "Pray, tell me who you are?"
A grim smile lighted up such of the features of the man as could be seen
through his bushy beard, whiskers, and moustaches. He shook his head.
Jerry repeated the question.
"No intende," he answered.
"Then he can't be Robinson Crusoe if he doesn't understand English,"
whispered Jerry, with a sigh.
The doctor, who had been behind gathering plants, now came up. He
laughed heartily when we told him that we had had great hopes that the
rough-looking stranger might turn out to be Robinson Crusoe himself,
gone back to live on his own island. He exchanged a few words with the
stranger.
"The man tells me that he is a goat-herd--a convict--unjustly banished
here;--that of course. He begs that we will give him a few coppers to
buy a glass of rum."
Jerry and I eagerly searched in our pockets, when we discovered some
Chilian coins, which we bestowed on the poor goat-herd; but even as I
dropped them into his hand, I could not help feeling that I was offering
an insult to a great man in distress by giving him such a trifle. The
provoking part of the affair was, that, as the doctor told us, the man
himself had never even heard of Robinson Crusoe in the whole course of
his life. We had a delightful ramble through the valley, and over the
hills. We found an abundance of the sandalwood-tree growing on the
mountains, and myrtles in great quantities, with a variety of other
aromatic shrubs. Vegetables of all sorts were growing in profusion, and
there were a number of cattle, and horses, and mules. There was also
plenty of milk; and from what we saw at the governor's table, there was
no lack of provisions of any sort.
Old Surley was with us, and he made acquaintance with a great number of
the canine race of high and low degree, though those of low degree, I
must say, vastly predominated. We made a collection of all sorts of
things,--bits of myrtle, and sandalwood, and leaves, and flowers, and
shells; for we were sure our friends at home would highly prize
everything coming from Robinson Crusoe's island. We got some delicious
milk also, I remember--which sailors as well as Londoners know how to
value. There is an abundance of wood on the island, and delicious
streams of pure water, one of which runs through the centre of the town.
I must not forget to mention the immense quantity of fish we caught.
This abundance of fish, Captain Frankland considered, is owing to a cold
current which flows by the island from the Southern Pole, and at the
same time tempers the air and adds fertility to the soil. The island is
about 300 miles from Valparaiso, 33 degrees 30 minutes south latitude.
It is about fifteen miles long, and five broad. After we had seen it in
all directions, we agreed that it was indeed a pity that it was in the
possession of those who were so little able to make a good use of it. I
never saw a more idle set of people than the inhabitants who were not
compelled to work. All the time we were on shore, they did nothing but
walk about or lie down in the shade, wrapped up in their big cloaks.
When we returned on board we accompanied the doctor to see his patient,
the mulatto we had rescued from the wreck. The doctor asked him whether
he would not go on shore, where he might have fresh fruit and
vegetables, and be better taken care of than he could be on board.
"No, no," he answered. "Thank you, though, much. There are no good
people in this place. I do not want to be among them."
"Then you know something about them?" said the doctor.
"There are very few places where I do not know somebody," he answered,
evasively.
The doctor did not press the point. Indeed the poor man was not in a
condition to be carried. He told us that his name was Manuel Silva;
that he had all his life been knocking about the world, and that he did
not look upon any one country as his home. We asked him no questions,
and he did not choose to tell us how he had got on board the vessel
where we found him. The next day, when we went on shore, the governor
told us that he had often difficult work in keeping the convicts in
order, and that not long ago a dozen of them contrived to run off with a
boat, headed by a desperate fellow who had been a seaman. They got
clear away, and soon after news was brought that a large brig had been
attacked and taken, and all the crew made to walk the plank.
"It will be necessary for us, then, to be on our guard," remarked the
captain. "They would be ugly customers to fall in with."
"Indeed it will," observed the governor. "They were desperate and
cunning fellows, too, and they will, I fear, do no small amount of
mischief before they come to an end. I have sent notice to the Chilian
Government, who will despatch one of their ships of war in search of the
fellows; but in this wide ocean, with thousands of islands among which
they may lie hid, there is but little chance of them being found."
We had another day's delightful ramble over the hills and across the
valleys of this lonely island; and except that Robinson Crusoe must have
found it somewhat dull, being alone for so long before Friday came to
him, Jerry and I agreed that he was in no way to be pitied, and that we
should like nothing better than having to spend some time there. We did
not quite settle how long. There are a number of caves high up in the
sides of the mountain, overlooking Cumberland Bay harbour, as it is
called; and those barbarous fellows, the Spaniards, compel the convicts,
who labour at the stone quarries, to live in them. The challenges of
the sentinels, reaching all the way down to the harbour, broke the still
silence of the night, as we lay at our anchors, ready to sail with the
first dawn on the following morning. A light wind wafted us away from
that romantic spot, our visit to which is among the most pleasant
recollections of our voyage. We gazed astern as if we were looking our
last on the land of our birth, and did not leave the deck till its faint
blue mountains had sunk beneath the horizon. In consequence of what we
had heard from the governor, we got our guns and small arms in order, to
be ready for the supposed pirates, should we fall in with them, while a
sharp look-out was kept, that we might not be taken unawares. Captain
Frankland was too brave and experienced a man to be afraid of taking
necessary precautions on all occasions. It did not occur to the
captain, till we had been some time at sea, to inquire of Manuel Silva
whether he knew anything of the pirates. Grave suspicions had begun to
cross his mind that he was in some way connected with them. Of course
Silva denied all knowledge of them. When pressed to give some account
of himself, he replied, "I am grateful for all your kindness. If I have
an opportunity I will show it. I do not wish to tell you falsehoods,
therefore do not press me on that subject." With a favourable breeze we
steered a course for the coast of Peru.