The evening was fine, and the atmosphere so clear that the masts of
vessels at anchor in the bay of Valparaiso, although no less than
twenty-six geographical miles distant, could be distinguished clearly as
little black streaks. A ship doubling the point under sail appeared as a
bright white speck. Anson expresses much surprise, in his voyage, at the
distance at which his vessels were detected from the coast; but he did
not sufficiently allow for the height of the land and the great
transparency of the air.
The setting of the sun was glorious, the valleys being black, whilst the
snowy peaks of the Andes yet retained a ruby tint. When it was dark we
made a fire beneath a little arbor of bamboos, fried our _charqui_ (or
dried slips of beef), took our mate, and were quite comfortable. There
is an inexpressible charm in this living in the open air. The evening
was calm and still; the shrill noise of the mountain bizcacha and the
faint cry of a goatsucker were occasionally to be heard. Besides these,
few birds, or even insects, frequent these dry, parched mountains.
_17th._--In the morning we climbed up the rough mass of greenstone which
crowns the summit. This rock, as frequently happens, was much shattered
and broken into huge angular fragments. I observed, however, one
remarkable circumstance,--namely, that many of the surfaces presented
every degree of freshness, some appearing as if broken the day before,
while on others lichens had either just become, or had long grown,
attached. I so fully believed that this was owing to the frequent
earthquakes, that I felt inclined to hurry from below each loose pile.
As one might very easily be deceived in a fact of this kind, I doubted
its accuracy, until ascending Mount Wellington, in Van Diemen's Land,
where earthquakes do not occur, and there I saw the summit of the
mountain similarly composed and similarly shattered, but all the blocks
appeared as if they had been hurled into their present position
thousands of years ago.
We spent the day on the summit, and I never enjoyed one more thoroughly.
Chile, bounded by the Andes and the Pacific, was seen as in a map. The
pleasure from the scenery, in itself beautiful, was heightened by the
many reflections which arose from the mere view of the Campana range,
with its lesser parallel ones, and of the broad valley of Quillota
directly intersecting them. Who can avoid wondering at the force which
has upheaved these mountains, and even more so at the countless ages
which it must have required to have broken through, removed, and
levelled whole masses of them? It is well in this case to call to mind
the vast shingle and sedimentary beds of Patagonia, which, if heaped on
the Cordillera, would increase its height by so many thousand feet. When
in that country I wondered how any mountain-chain could supply such
masses and not have been utterly obliterated. We must not now reverse
the wonder, and doubt whether all-powerful time can grind down
mountains--even the gigantic Cordillera--into gravel and mud.
The appearance of the Andes was different from that which I had
expected. The lower line of the snow was of course horizontal, and to
this line the even summits of the range seemed quite parallel. Only
at long intervals a group of points or a single cone showed where a
volcano had existed, or does now exist. Hence the range resembled a
great solid wall, surmounted here and there by a tower, and making a
most perfect barrier to the country.
Almost every part of the hill had been drilled by attempts to open
gold-mines; the rage for mining has left scarcely a spot in Chile
unexamined. I spent the evening as before, talking round the fire with
my two companions. The guasos of Chile, who correspond to the gauchos
of the Pampas, are, however, a very different set of beings. Chile
is the more civilized of the two countries, and the inhabitants, in
consequence, have lost much individual character. Gradations in rank are
much more strongly marked. The guaso does not by any means consider
every man his equal, and I was quite surprised to find that my
companions did not like to eat at the same time with myself.
This feeling of inequality is a necessary consequence of the existence
of an aristocracy of wealth. It is said that some few of the greater
land-owners possess from five to ten thousand pounds sterling per annum,
an inequality of riches which I believe is not met with in any of the
cattle-breeding countries eastward of the Andes. A traveller does not
here meet that unbounded hospitality which refuses all payment, but yet
is so kindly offered that no scruples can be raised in accepting it.
Almost every house in Chile will receive you for the night, but a trifle
is expected to be given in the morning; even a rich man will accept two
or three shillings.
The gaucho, though he may be a cut-throat, is a gentleman; the guaso is
in few respects better, but at the same time a vulgar, ordinary fellow.
The two men, although employed much in the same manner, are different in
their habits and attire, and the peculiarities of each are universal in
their respective countries. The gaucho seems part of his horse, and
scorns to exert himself excepting when on its back; the guaso may be
hired to work as a laborer in the fields. The former lives entirely on
animal food, the latter almost wholly on vegetable. We do not here see
the white boots, the broad drawers, and scarlet chilipa, the picturesque
costume of the Pampas. Here common trousers are protected by black and
green worsted leggings. The poncho, however, is common to both. The
chief pride of the guaso lies in his spurs, which are absurdly large. I
measured one which was six inches in the _diameter_ of the rowel, and
the rowel itself contained upward of thirty points. The stirrups are on
the same scale, each consisting of a square carved block of wood,
hollowed out, yet weighing three or four pounds. The guaso is perhaps
more expert with the lazo than the gaucho, but, from the nature of the
country, he does not know the use of the bolas.
AN ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY.
BENJAMIN F. BOURNE.
[Benjamin Franklin Bourne, mate of a vessel that sailed, _via_
the Straits of Magellan, for California in 1849, during the
intensity of the gold fever, was taken prisoner by the
Patagonians, having landed to bring off some of the sailors. He
remained in their hands for more than three months, and in his
"The Captive in Patagonia" gives a detailed description of the
character and customs of the natives of that country. We
extract from his work a good brief description of the country
and its people.]
Patagonia as it offered itself to my observation more than answered
the descriptions of geographers,--bleak, barren, desolate, beyond
description or conception,--only to be appreciated by being seen.
Viewed from the Straits of Magellan, it rises in gentle undulations or
terraces. Far as the eye can reach, in a westerly direction, it assumes
a more broken and hilly appearance, and long ranges of mountains
extending from north to south divide the eastern from the western shore.
The soil is of a light, sandy character, and bears nothing worthy the
name of a tree. Low bushes, or underwood, are tolerably abundant, and in
the valleys a coarse wiry grass grows luxuriantly. Streams of water are
rare. The natives draw their supplies principally from springs or pools
in the valleys, the water of which is generally brackish and
disagreeable.
The variety of animal is nearly as limited as that of vegetable
productions. The guanaco, a quadruped allied to the lama and with some
resemblance to the camelopard, is found in considerable numbers. It is
larger than the red deer, fleet on the foot, usually found in large
herds, frequenting not only the plains, but found along the course of
the Andes. Its flesh is a principal article of food; its skin is dried
with the hair on, in such a manner that, when wet, it retains its
pliability and softness. This process of preserving skins seems to
be peculiar to the Indian tribes, and is not unlike that by which
buffalo-robes, bear-skins, buckskins, and other articles of luxury, and
even necessity, among us, are prepared by the North American Indians.
Guanaco-skins are cut into pieces of all sizes, and sewed into a
thousand fanciful patterns, every workman originating a style to suit
himself. The hoofs are sometimes turned to account by the natives as
soles for shoes, when they indulge in such a luxury, which is not often.
The enemy of the guanaco is the cougar, or "American lion," smaller
than its African namesake, and more resembling the tiger in his
character and habits, having a smooth, sleek coat, of a brownish-yellow
color,--altogether a very beautiful but ferocious creature. His chase
is a favorite, though rare and dangerous, sport of the natives.
Patagonia likewise boasts of the skunk, whose flesh is used for food.
There are also foxes, and innumerable mice. Of birds, the only
noticeable varieties are the condor, in the Andes, and the cassowary, a
species of ostrich, smaller than that of Africa, on the plains; its
plumage is not abundant, generally of a gray or dun color. Its flesh is
tender and sweet, and with the fat much prized by the Indians. Like the
African ostrich, it is exceedingly swift, only to be captured on
horseback, and often fleet enough to outrun the fastest racer.
The climate is severe; the Rio Negro forms the northern boundary, and
nearly the whole country is south of the parallel of 40 deg. south
latitude. At the time of my capture, which was in the month of May, the
weather corresponded to that of November in the New England States. Its
chilliness, however, was greatly increased by the bleak winds of that
exposed locality. Along the Straits of Magellan the weather is often
exceedingly changeable. Sudden and severe squalls, often amounting
almost to a hurricane, vex the navigation of the straits, and sweep over
the coast with fearful fury.
The habits of the Patagonians, or at least of the tribe among whom I was
cast, are migratory, wandering over the country in quest of game, or as
their caprice may prompt them. They subsist altogether on the flesh of
animals and birds. The guanaco furnishes most of their food, and all
their clothing. A mantle of skins, sewed with the sinews of the ostrich,
fitted closely about the neck and extending below the knee, is their
only article of dress, except in the coldest weather, when a kind of
shoe, made of the hind hoof and a portion of the skin above it, serves
to protect their inferior extremities.
In person they are large; on first sight, they appear absolutely
gigantic. They are taller than any other race I have seen, although it
is impossible to give any accurate description. The only standard of
measurement I had was my own height, which is about five feet ten
inches. I could stand very easily under the arms of many of them, and
all the men were at least a head taller than myself. Their average
height, I should think, is nearly six and a half feet, and there were
specimens that could have been little less than seven feet high. They
have broad shoulders, full and well-developed chests, frames muscular
and finely proportioned, the whole figure and air making an impression
like that which the first view of the sons of Anak is recorded to have
made on the children of Israel. They exhibit enormous strength, whenever
they are sufficiently aroused to shake off their constitutional laziness
and exert it.
They have large heads, high cheek-bones, like the North American
Indians, whom they also resemble in their complexion, though it is a
shade or two darker. Their foreheads are broad, but low, the hair
covering them nearly to the eyes; eyes full, generally black, or of a
dark brown, and brilliant, though expressive of but little intelligence.
Thick, coarse, and stiff hair protects the head, its abundance making
any artificial covering superfluous. It is worn long, generally divided
at the neck, so as to hang in two folds over the shoulders and back, but
is sometimes bound above the temples by a fillet, over which it flows in
ample luxuriance. Like more civilized people, the Patagonians take great
pride in the proper disposition and effective display of their hair.
Their teeth are really beautiful, sound and white,--about the only
enviable feature of their persons. Feet and hands are large, but not
disproportionate to their total bulk. They have deep, heavy voices and
speak in guttural tones,--the worst guttural I ever heard,--with a
muttering, indistinct articulation, much as if their mouths were filled
with hot pudding.
Their countenances are generally stupid, but, on closer inspection,
there is a gleam of low cunning that flashes through this dull mask, and
is increasingly discernible on acquaintance with them; when excited, or
engaged in any earnest business that calls their faculties into full
exercise, their features light up with unexpected intelligence and
animation. In fact, as one becomes familiar with them, he will not fail
to detect an habitual expression of "secretiveness" and duplicity, which
he will wonder he did not observe sooner. They are almost as imitative
as monkeys, and are all great liars; falsehood is universal and
inveterate with men, women, and children. The youngest seem to inherit
the taint, and vie with the oldest in displaying it. The detection of a
falsehood gives them no shame or uneasiness. To these traits should be
added a thorough-paced treachery, and, what might seem rather
inconsistent with their other qualities, a large share of vanity and an
immoderate love of praise.
[The author has much more to say in this same vein, and gives a
detailed and valuable account of their customs, which only his
captivity could have enabled him to offer. His adventures were
the reverse of pleasant, and he was fortunately successful in
the end in inducing them to visit the coast near an island
inhabited by whites. Here he made a bold stroke for freedom.]
Our horses' heads were now turned from the shore, and we rode back about
an eighth of a mile to a large clump of bushes, unsaddled our beasts,
and waited some time for the rest of our company, who had fallen in the
rear. They came at last, our horses were turned adrift, fire was
lighted, and, as the day was far spent, supper was in order. Then ensued
a repetition--a final one, I trusted--of the grand present to be levied
on the Hollanders [as the natives called the white settlers], and of the
speech which was to draw them out. The Indians arranged that I was to
hoist the English flag,--the colors of the unfortunate brig "Avon,"
which they had brought along at my request,--and then to walk the shore
to attract the attention of the islanders. On the approach of a boat, I
was to be kept back from the beach to prevent escape; for I found that
they were not, after all, as well assured of my good faith as might have
been desirable. They thought, moreover, that when the white men saw a
prisoner with them, they would come ashore to parley and offer presents
to effect his release; in that case there might be a chance, if the
negotiation proved unsatisfactory, to take bonds of fate in the form of
another captive or two. So, at least, there was ground to suspect,--and
some cause to fear that the rascals might prove too shrewd for all of
us!
After talking till a late hour, the Indians threw themselves upon the
ground, stuck their feet into the bushes and were soon fast asleep. I
consulted the chief as to the propriety of modifying this arrangement by
placing our heads, rather than our feet, under cover, since both could
not be accommodated. He declined any innovations, and told me to go to
sleep. I stretched myself on the ground, but as to sleep that was out of
question. I lay all night thinking over every possible expedient for
escape. We had no materials for a boat or raft of any description, and
it was impossible to think of any plan that promised success; so that,
after tossing in body and mind through the weary hours of night, I could
only resolve to wait the course of events, and to take advantage of the
first opportunity affording a reasonable hope of deliverance from this
horrid captivity. Snow, sleet, and rain fell during the night; and I
rose early, thoroughly chilled, every tooth chattering. A fire was
kindled and the last morsel of meat that remained to us was cooked and
eaten. The weather continued squally till the middle of the afternoon.
After breakfast the chief went with me to the shore, bearing the flag.
On the beach I found a strip of thick board, to which I fastened the
colors, and then planted it in the sand. The bushes around, which have a
kind of oily leaf, and readily ignite, were set on fire. I then walked
to the beach,--but no boat came. When it cleared up sufficiently to see,
I observed little objects moving about on the island. The day wore away
with fruitless attempts to attract their attention. With an aching heart
I returned, at dark, to the camping-ground. On this island my hopes had
so long centred,--if they were now to be disappointed, how could I
endure it? The Indians began to talk of rejoining the tribe the
following day; I opposed the motion with all the dissuasives at command,
assuring them that at sight of our flag the islanders would surely come
over in a boat, and that, if they would only wait a little, they could
go over to the island and enjoy themselves to their hearts' content;
representing the absolute necessity that I should procure the rum, etc.,
we had talked of, and how embarrassing it would be to go back to the
tribe empty-handed, after all that had been said, to be ridiculed and
reproached. It would never do.
Our conversation was continued till quite late, when we ranged
ourselves, hungry and weary, for another night. For hours I was unable
to sleep. The uncertainties of my situation oppressed me, and I lay
restless, with anxiety inexpressible, inconceivable by those whom
Providence has preserved from similar straits. It was a season of deep,
suppressed, silent misery, in which the heart found no relief but in the
mute supplication to Him who was alone able to deliver. Towards morning,
exhausted with the intensity of emotion acting on an enfeebled body, I
slept a little, and woke at early dawn, to a fresh consciousness of my
critical position.
The weather had been fair during the night, but there were now
indications of another snow-storm. I waited long and impatiently for my
companions to awake, and at last started off in quest of fuel, on
returning with which they bestirred themselves and started a fire, which
warmed our half-benumbed limbs. There lay the little island, beautiful
to eyes that longed, like mine, for a habitation of sympathizing men,
about a mile and a half distant. It almost seemed to recede while I
gazed, so low had my hopes sunken under the pressure of disappointment
and bitter uncertainty. A violent snow-storm soon setting in, it was
hidden from view; everything seemed to be against me. It slackened and
partially cleared up; then came another gust, filling the air and
shutting out the prospect.
In this way it continued till past noon; at intervals, as the sky
lighted up, I took a firebrand and set fire to the bushes on the beach,
and then hoisted the flag again, walking wearily to and fro till the
storm ceased and the sky became clear. The chief concealed himself in a
clump of bushes, and sat watching with cat-like vigilance the movements
of the islanders. After some time he said a boat was coming; I scarcely
durst look in the direction indicated, lest I should experience a fresh
disappointment; but I did look, and saw, to my great joy, a boat
launched, with four or five men on board, and pushing off the shore. On
they came; the chief reported his discovery, and the rest of the Indians
came to the beach, where I was still walking backward and forward. The
boat approached, not directly off where I was, but an eighth of a mile,
perhaps, to the windward, and there lay on her oars.
The Indians hereupon ordered me to return to the camping-ground, but,
without heeding them, I set off at a full run towards the boat. They
hotly pursued, I occasionally turning and telling them to come on, that
I only wanted to see the boat. "Stop! stop!" they bawled. "Now, my
legs," said I, "if ever you want to serve me, this is the time." I had
one advantage over my pursuers: my shoes, though much the worse for
wear, protected my feet from the sharp stones, which cut theirs at every
step; but, under all disadvantages, I found they made about equal speed
with myself. As I gained a point opposite the boat, the Indians
slackened their speed and looked uneasily at me; the man in the stern of
the boat hailed me, inquiring what Indians these were, what number of
them, and how I came among them. I replied in as few words as possible,
and told him we wished to cross to the island. He shook his head; they
were bad fellows, he said; he could not take me with the Indians. They
began to pull away. I made signs of distress and waved them to return,
shouting to them through my hands. The boat was again backed within
hailing distance. "Will you look out for me if I come by myself?" "Yes,"
was the prompt reply.
The Indians all this time had kept within ten or fifteen feet of me,
with their hands on their knives, and reiterating their commands to
come back, at the same time edging towards me in a threatening manner.
"Yes, yes," I told them, "in a moment; but I want to look at the
boat,"--taking care, however, to make good my distance from them.
At the instant of hearing the welcome assurance that I should be cared
for, I drew out the watch (which I had brought, according to promise, to
have a new crystal inserted at Holland), and threw it into the bushes;
the salt water would spoil it, and, if I _should_ be retaken, the
spoiling of that would be an aggravation which might prove fatal. At
the same moment I gave a plunge headlong into the river; my clothes and
shoes encumbered me, and the surf, agitated by a high wind, rolled in
heavy seas upon the shore. The boat was forty or fifty yards off, and,
as the wind did not blow square in shore, drifted, so as to increase the
original distance, unless counteracted by the crew. Whether the boat was
backed up towards me I could not determine; my head was a great part of
the time under water, my eyes blinded with the surf, and most strenuous
exertion was necessary to live in such a sea.
As I approached the boat I could see several guns, pointed, apparently,
at me. Perhaps we had misunderstood each other; perhaps they viewed me
as an enemy. In fact, they were aimed to keep the Indians from following
me into the water, which they did not attempt. My strength was fast
failing me; the man at the helm, perceiving it, stretched out a rifle at
arm's length. The muzzle dropped into the water and arrested my feeble
vision. Summoning all my remaining energy, I grasped it, and was drawn
towards the boat; a sense of relief shot through and revived me, but
revived, also, such a dread lest the Indians should give chase, that I
begged them to pull away, I could hold on. The man reached down and
seized me by the collar, and ordered his men to ply their oars. They had
made but a few strokes when a simultaneous cry broke from their lips,
"Pull the dear man in! Pull the dear man in!" They let fall their oars,
laid hold of me, and, in their effort to drag me over the side of their
whale-boat, I received some injury. I requested that they would let me
help myself, and, working my body up sufficiently to get one knee over
the gunwale, I gave a spring with what strength was left me, and fell
into the bottom of the boat.