We steered across the Bay of St. Philip, accompanied by the Beagle,[87] left the Strait of Magalhaens with a fair wind, and, after a favourable passage, reached Monte Video on the 24th April 1827.
From Monte Video we went to Rio de Janeiro, to procure stores, and prepare for another voyage to the Strait. On our arrival I received the Commander-in-chief's leave to apply to the Lord High Admiral for permission to employ a tender, to facilitate the surveys of the sounds and deep channels, in the neighbourhood of the Strait, and the inner sounds on the west coast; for which, neither the Adventure, nor the Beagle, were adapted; and I thought it best to delay our departure until an answer to my application was received.
Leave Rio de Janeiro—Santos—St. Catherine's—Monte Video—Purchase the Adelaide schooner, for a Tender to the Adventure—Leave Monte Video—Beagle goes to Port Desire—Shoals off Cape Blanco—Bellaco Rock—Cape Virgins—Possession Bay—First Narrow—Race—Gregory Bay—View—Tomb—Traffic with Natives—Cordial meeting—Maria goes on board—Natives intoxicated—Laredo Bay—Port Famine.
We were ready to resume our voyage early in September (1827); but not having received any communication by the packet, from the Admiralty, relative to the purchase of a tender, I determined to await the arrival of the next, early in October. I was again disappointed, and very reluctantly left Rio de Janeiro, on the 16th, for Monte Video; but that I might still benefit by the orders which were sure to be in the following packet, I determined upon calling at Santos, and St. Catherine's, for chronometrical observations; leaving the Beagle to wait for letters conveying the decision of his Royal Highness the Lord High Admiral.
We reached Santos on the 18th, and staid there until the 28th. In this interval I paid a short visit to St. Paul's, for the purpose of making barometrical observations.[88] At St. Catherine's we remained eight days, and during the interval necessary for ascertaining the rates of the chronometers, I obtained magnetic observations.
After a tedious voyage of nineteen days from St. Catherine's, I arrived at Monte Video, and there received intelligence that the long-wished permission from the Lord High Admiral, to procure a tender, had been obtained. I accordingly purchased a schooner, which I named the Adelaide, and appointed Lieutenant Graves to the command. Five months' additional provisions for both vessels were purchased, and put into her; and on the 23d December, after running up the river to complete our water, we sailed out by the southern entrance, passing to the westward of the Archimedes' Shoal, and proceeded without farther detention to the southward.
On the 1st of January (in latitude 43° 17′ and long. 61° 9′), I was informed that we were close to a rock. Upon going on deck, I saw the object; but in a very short time I perceived it was a dead whale, upon whose half-putrid body large flocks of birds were feeding. Many on board were, however, sceptical, until, on passing to leeward, the strong odour testified the fact. Its appearance certainly was very like the summit of a dark brown rock, covered with weeds and barnacles, and the myriads of birds which surrounded it added to the deception. It could, however, be distinguished by its buoyancy; for the water did not break over it, as of course it would have done had it been a fixed body. Such is probably the origin of half the 'vigias' that are found on the charts. Whales, when struck by the fishers, frequently escape and perish; the carcass then floats on the surface of the sea, until decomposed or eaten by birds and fishes. A small vessel striking against such a mass, would probably be severely injured; and at night, the body, from its buoyancy and the sea not breaking against it, would not be readily seen.
On the 4th, being about one hundred miles to the N.E. of Cape Blanco, I communicated with Captain Stokes, and gave him directions to proceed to Port Desire for chronometrical observations, and then follow me immediately to Cape Fairweather or Cape Virgins. We had light winds during the night, so that the Beagle made very little progress. In the afternoon, Cape Blanco, a long level-topped ridge, came in sight, of which good views are given in Lord Anson's voyage. We steered towards the land, and at six o'clock were in eighteen fathoms, the rocky hill at the extremity of the Cape bearing S. 10° E. thirteen miles; at seven o'clock, the same hill was six miles and a half off, bearing S. 3° E., when we observed a line of rippling water, extending from east to as far as we could see on the south horizon. The depth was seventeen fathoms, but as we proceeded it gradually decreased to twelve and ten, and soon afterwards to seven fathoms, when the Beagle was observed to be firing guns; but whether they were intended to warn us of danger, or as signals of her own distress, we could not determine, and I hauled to the wind to cross where the ripple appeared least violent. In passing through it we had not less than seven fathoms, and then it deepened to twelve and fifteen fathoms. We had now leisure to attend to the Beagle, and soon saw that her signals were only to warn us, for she had resumed her course under a press of sail.
After steering four miles to the S.E., we again found ourselves in the midst of ripplings, in which the water shoaled to six fathoms. It being then dark, and not knowing how to proceed, we shortened sail and brought to the wind, in order that if the ship struck it might be with less force; but happily we passed on without any further decrease of soundings. In going through the ripple, the Adelaide, though deeply laden, behaved well.
Commodore Byron passed over these shoals, which he describes as lying at a greater distance from the shore: it was to avoid them that we passed so near the land.
During the following evening there was a very heavy dew, the never-failing prognostic of a northerly wind; the horizon, also, was very hazy, and the water perfectly smooth. We were not more than ten miles off shore, yet the land was completely distorted in appearance by mirage.
Next morning we were very close to the position assigned to the Bellaco, or St. Estevan's Shoal, the existence of which has been very much doubted. It was discovered by the Nodales, and in the diary of their voyage is thus described: "At five o'clock, or later in the evening, we discovered a rock a-wash ('una baxa que lababa la mar en ella') about five leagues from the shore, more or less. It is a very deceitful rock ('Es muy bellaco baxo'), because it is under water, over which, in fine weather and smooth water, the sea breaks. We sounded near it, and found twenty-six fathoms stony bottom. Its latitude is 48½°, according to our noon observation, and the course and distance we have since run."[89]
The late Don Felipe Bauza, one of the companions of Malespina, informed me, that on the voyage of the Descubierta and Atrevida, their boats were sent to look for it, but were unsuccessful.
At noon we were in lat. 48° 40′ S., long. 66° 6′, depth forty-two fathoms, but without any signs of the Bellaco. Sailing on, the coast was seen in the neighbourhood of Beachy Head (so named from its resemblance to the well-known promontory). Afterwards, Cape Fairweather came in sight, and on the 10th Cape Virgins, which we passed in the evening, and, half an hour afterwards, rounding Dungeness, we again entered the Strait of Magalhaens; and anchored near the northern shore.
In Possession Bay we were detained several days, although repeated attempts to pass the First Narrow were anxiously made.
One evening, clouds gathered, and the weather assumed such a threatening appearance, that I expected to be obliged to run to sea; but to our surprise, when the cloudy mass seemed on the point of bursting over us with a deluge of rain, it suddenly vanished, and was succeeded by a beautifully clear and fine night. This favourable appearance gave us hopes of being able to make good our entrance on the following day; but a fresh gale set in, and kept us at our anchorage.
Early on the 14th we made another fruitless attempt to pass the First Narrow. As the Adelaide sailed under our stern, Lieutenant Graves informed me that he had lost an anchor, and had only one left, to which he had bent his chain-cable; and that she had shipped so much water in attempting to beat through, that he was on the point of asking permission to bear up when we ourselves gave up the attempt. It blew too hard to give any assistance to the Adelaide, but next morning, when the weather was more moderate, I seized an opportunity of sending our two kedge anchors; and in the afternoon we supplied her with some water and other necessaries, so that she was comparatively well off, and my anxiety on her account much relieved.
Fires on the Fuegian side had been kept up since our arrival, but we could not distinguish any inhabitants; on the Patagonian shores we saw a great number of guanacoes feeding quietly, a proof of there being no Indians near them.
On the 16th, the weather appearing favourable, our anchor was weighed, and, with the Adelaide, we soon entered the sluice of the Narrow, proceeding rapidly, though the wind blew hard against us. The tide carried us to an anchorage, about four miles beyond the western entrance, and it was slack water when the anchor was dropped; but, no sooner had the stream turned, than we found ourselves in the midst of a 'race,' and during the whole tide, the water broke furiously over the ship. At slack water we got underweigh, but the Adelaide not being able (from the strength of the tide), to purchase her anchor, was obliged to slip the cable: it was fortunate that we had supplied her with our kedges, or she would then have been without an anchor. The night was tempestuous, and although we reached a much quieter birth, the Adelaide drifted considerably; had she remained at the morning's anchorage, in order to save her anchor and cable, we should probably never have seen her again.
The succeeding morning, after a hard beat to windward, both vessels anchored in Gregory Bay. No Indians were in the neighbourhood, or we should have seen their fires. In the afternoon the wind moderated, and as there was every appearance of fine weather, I remained to survey the coast.
On the summit of the land, about half a mile northward of the extremity of the Cape, while Lieutenant Graves and I were taking bearings, and making observations, two guanacoes came up and stood neighing at us; the observation, however, was of consequence, and as they were not disturbed, they remained watching us for some minutes before they took alarm and fled.
Lieutenant Wickham and Mr. Tarn made an excursion to the summit of the Table Land, previously described as extending from the low land behind the Second Narrow to the N.E., in the direction of Mount Aymond, and were amply repaid for a fatiguing walk, with the thermometer at 81°, by a magnificent view: Cape Possession to the eastward, and to the south the mountains near Mount Tarn, eighty miles distant, were plainly distinguished. The view to the westward, stretching over a large extent of grassy plains, was bounded by lofty ranges of snow-capped mountains; but to the north it was intercepted by another summit of the mountain upon which they stood. The country they passed over was covered with short grass, through which a mass of granite occasionally protruded. Neither trees nor shrubs were observed, excepting a few herbaceous plants, and the berberis; a goose, some ducks, snipe, and plovers were shot; and guanacoes were seen at a distance, but no ostriches, nor did they meet any Indians. Large fires were, however, kindled on both shores of the Strait, in answer to the fire which they made for cooking. In consequence of those on the Patagonian coast appearing so close to us, we expected a visit from the natives before night, but none made their appearance.
Next morning, Mr. Graves accompanied me in a boat to a station three miles within the Second Narrow on the north side, and in our way we found the geological structure of the cliffs to be of a decomposed clay-slate, arranged in strata, much distorted by the violent action of the water, and dispersed in vertical and inclined directions in very thin laminæ.
These cliffs are about one hundred feet high, the soil a sandy alluvium, of a sterile character, scantily covered with a wiry, stunted grass, and here and there a berberis bush, loaded with ripe fruit, which, from the poverty of the soil, was tasteless and dry; the ground was also, in many parts, over-run to a considerable extent with an insipid cranberry, scarcely worth the trouble of gathering.
We struck across the country, with the view of examining the place where the Indians were residing at our last visit, and the tomb which had then been erected. Grass had grown up, and effaced the traces of feet; but the tomb had suffered no farther alteration than the weather might have effected. We found that the place had been recently visited by the natives, for within a few yards of the entrance were strewed the ashes of a large fire, containing vestiges of the former decorations of the tomb, and the end of one of the flag-staffs, with the unburnt corner of one of the banners. Amongst the ashes, also, we found calcined bones; but whether they were human or not, we could not ascertain.
The discovery of the bones impressed us with the idea that the body had been burnt, and determined me to examine the tomb. The bushes that filled up the entrance appeared to be placed exactly as when we first saw them, and indeed the whole pile seemed to have remained quite undisturbed; but there was no appearance of the brass ornaments, or of the effigies of the horses.
Having effected an opening in the bushes, we found an inner covering, made of horse-skins. Having cut two holes opposite each other, for the admission of light, we saw nothing but two parallel rows of stones, three in each row, probably intended as a bier for the body or a covering for the grave; but the ground around and between them bore no appearance of having been disturbed for burial.[90] As we hourly expected the Indians would arrive (the place being in the direct line of their journey to the ships), and were unwilling to let them know we had disturbed the sanctuaries of their dead, we restored the former appearance of the tomb; and it was fortunate we did so, for three women on horseback, carrying their children in cradles, with a quantity of skins, provisions, and other merchandise, evidently the harbingers of the tribe, made their appearance, and immediately began to erect their tents.
When we next went on shore we found several Indians arrived, and divided into three groups, with mantles, ostrich-feathers, skins, and joints of guanaco meat displayed for sale.
As the meat appeared fresh, it is probable that, on seeing us, the women were despatched to place the toldos, while the men set out to provide guanaco meat, for they knew our partiality for this excellent food. When we landed, an active barter began.
From the haste and avidity shown in offering their goods, and closing the bargains, it seemed as if they were anxious to monopolize our articles of barter before the rest of their party, or tribe arrived. One old man attempted to cheat; but my interdiction of all farther traffic with him brought him to a sense of his error, and I then made him a present of some tobacco and allowed him to trade, which he afterwards did, with cheerfulness and honesty.
One of the party was the Fuegian chief, whom I previously noticed, as a squalid, meagre-looking man; but he was now enlarged to Patagonian dimensions, by his improved diet and more cheerful mode of life. The appearance of bad weather obliged us to suspend the barter and get on board. After we had reached the ship, successive parties of the tribe arrived, and formed the encampment. Among them, mounted on her white horse, was Maria, who, duly escorted, paraded on the beach to challenge our recognition. In the centre of the encampment, a large flag suspended from a pole was a signal to us, and showed the position of her toldo.
The next morning being fine, we landed near the encampment, and were most cordially received. Maria was particularly attentive, and embraced me closely, while her companions chaunted in chorus a song of delight at our arrival.
When we reached her toldo, a mat was spread out for me to sit on. Maria and her family placed themselves in front of me, while the rest sat round. Almost the first question was an inquiry for my son Philip, whom they called Felipe,[91] and two or three skins were given to me for him. They then asked for our pilot on the former voyage, and were much disappointed to find he had left the ship. After a short conversation I returned the two bags (which I had so unwillingly carried away at our last visit), having filled them with flour and sugar, and then proceeded to deliver our presents. As each article was delivered into her hands, she repeated, in Spanish, I'll pay for this; but upon a bit for her horse being presented, a general burst of admiration followed, and it was handed round the tents, whilst each individual, as it passed on, looked, I thought, anxious to be its possessor.
Maria then began to consider what adequate requital she could possibly make me. The result was, a present of two mantles, one new, of guanaco skin, and the other well worn, of zorillo skin, besides two or three skins of the puma. She then produced a piece of paper, carefully wrapped up in canvas, containing a letter, or memorandum, left by Mr. Low, master of the Uxbridge sealer, addressed to any shipmaster passing through the Strait, apprising him "of the friendly disposition of the Indians, and impressing him with the necessity of treating them well, and not deceiving them; for they had good memories, and would seriously resent it."
The advice, no doubt, was good; but I think the fear of forfeiting advantages and comforts to be derived from traffic would induce them to restrain their resentment.
I brought no spirits; for which, after a short time, Maria asked, complaining that she was very ill, and had sore eyes, and for some time past had nothing but water to drink, and wood to smoke. Her illness was evidently assumed, but her eyes seemed highly inflamed; and no wonder, for the upper part of her face was smeared over with an ochrous red pigment, even to the very edge of her eyelids: indeed, the whole tribe had ornamented themselves similarly, in compliment, I suppose, to our visit.
As I prepared to return on board, Maria's importunity induced me to allow her to accompany me; upon which she began to muster up all her empty bags, old mantles, and skins, and, attended by her husband, her brother-in-law, his wife and daughter, got into the boat. While going on board, the spray washed the painted countenances of our visitors, much to their regret.
Upon reaching the ship, I ordered them to be regaled with meat and biscuit, of which they partook very sparingly, but took care to put what remained into their bags. Some spirits and water, too, which I thought would be soon dispatched, and which had been plentifully diluted to prevent their being made tipsy, they emptied into bottles to take on shore "for the evening," when, as Maria said, they would be "very drunk."
Among various things shown to amuse them was a musical snuff-box, which I had procured for the express purpose of exciting their astonishment; but I was surprised to find, that a penny-whistle produced a ten-fold greater effect upon their senses. This indifference to musical sounds I should not have suspected, because they frequently sing, though certainly in a monotonous manner.
As soon as their repast was concluded, the party, except Maria and the girls, commenced bartering their mantles and skins, and, by the time their stock was expended, they had amassed a large quantity of biscuit, and a bundle of various trifles, some of which they had attempted to get by pilfering. They made themselves so contented, that it was not without much difficulty we could persuade them to go on shore. Maria had made her mind up to pass the night on board, and so anxious were they all to remain, that it was only by giving Maria two bottles of spirits (which had been well diluted) that they were induced to get into the boat, and accompany me ashore. Being a lee-tide, and low water, the boat grounded at a considerable distance from the beach; seeing this, some of the Indians rode into the water, and taking us up behind them, conveyed us to the encampment, my place being behind Maria, the smell of whose zorillo-skin mantle was hardly bearable; but it was necessary to conceal our dislike of our companions as much as possible, for they are very sensitive, and easily offended.
While waiting for the tide, we witnessed a drunken scene at Maria's toldo. Fifteen persons, seated around her, shared the spirits she had obtained on board, until all were intoxicated. Some were screaming, others laughing, some stupified, and some bellowing. The uproar drew all the other Indians round the tent, who tendered their assistance to compose their friends, and we returned to the ship. When we visited them the next day, they were quite recovered, and gave us some guanaco meat, which had been brought in that morning. On communicating my intention of proceeding on the voyage, Maria wished to know when we should finish our "seal-killing," and come back. I told her "in five moons," upon which she endeavoured to persuade me to return in four, because she would then have plenty of skins to barter.
I wrote a few lines to Captain Stokes, who, I expected, would arrive in a day or two, communicating my desire that he should follow, as soon as possible, to Port Famine, and committed the letter to Maria's care, who promised to deliver it to him; then, taking leave of her and her companions, I embarked, and proceeded through the Second Narrow to an anchorage off Cape Negro.
Our visit to Gregory Bay, and communication with the Indians, furnished us with many additions to our zoological collection; among them was a tiger-cat, which seemed, from the description, to be the Felis pajaros of the Encyclopédie Méthodique (the "Chat de Pampa" of D'Azara). Maria gave me a very large bezoar stone, that was taken from the stomach of a guanaco. It is used medicinally by the Indians, as a remedy for bowel complaints.[92]
Whilst we were at the anchorage before Cape Negro, Mr. Tarn and Mr. Wickham visited the lake at the back of Laredo Bay, and saw two swans, which, from the colour of their plumage, seemed to be the black-necked swan of the River Plata and of the Falkland Islands[93] (Dom Pernettey, ii. p. 148). They brought on board with them a new species of duck, which is described in the proceedings of the Zoological Society as Anas specularis (Nob.), and a small burrowing animal, of the rat tribe, that, from the character of its teeth, is probably of a genus not hitherto noted: it approaches nearest to F. Cuvier's Helamys.
We next anchored in Port Famine, where the tents, &c. were replaced in their former positions, the ship was unrigged and secured for the winter, and all hands set to work, preparing the Adelaide for service.
Find that the Cutter had been burned—Anxiety for the Beagle—Uxbridge Sealer—Beagle arrives—Her cruize—Bellaco Rock—San Julian—Santa Cruz—Gallegos—Adeona—Death of Lieutenant Sholl—Adelaide Sails—Supposed Channel of San Sebastian—Useless Bay—Natives—Port San Antonio—Humming-birds—Fuegians—Beagle sails—Sarmiento—Roldan—Pond—Whales—Structure—Scenery—Port Gallant.
Port Famine bore evident marks of having been visited in our absence by the Indians, for a large fire, apparently recent, had over-run the grass, and burned the trees upon Point Santa Anna, particularly in that part where our boat had been so carefully concealed. Eager to know whether she had escaped the fire, I lost no time in hastening to the spot, directly after the Adventure anchored, and found, as our fears had anticipated, that she had been completely destroyed, scarcely a vestige of her wood remaining, and most of the iron-work having been carried away; for which, doubtless, the Indians had set her on fire.
The sheds for the cooper and armourer, which had been erected with some pains, were also entirely consumed, and every thing portable had been carried away. Those things which were of no use to them were either broken or burnt; but some of our station poles on Point Santa Anna were left uninjured; as well as the tablet erected to the memory of Mr. Ainsworth and the boat's crew; which was singular, because it was secured by iron hoops—of great value, in their eyes.
From the fresh traces of horses in the neighbourhood, we at first suspected the conflagration to have been caused by the Patagonians; but we soon found we owed our loss to the Fuegians, for in two new wigwams were strewed some remains of our boat.
The last winter appeared to have been milder than that preceding it, for last January, Mount Sarmiento and the hills to the southward, over Fitton Bay, were so covered with snow, that not a particle of the rock could be seen; but this year many bare spots were visible. Every thing else, however, indicated a bad season, and the berberis bushes and arbutus shrubs had scarcely any show of fruit; which was rather a disappointment, as the berries of the former plant proved an agreeable addition to our food last year. However, there was no scarcity of birds, and with the seine we procured plenty of fish.
The Beagle's long and unexpected absence caused us much uneasiness, and some apprehension for her safety. Her visit to Port Desire ought not to have occupied more than three days, and her superior sailing should have enabled Captain Stokes to rejoin us in the entrance of the Strait. People were sent daily to look out for her, and every succeeding day increased our anxiety.
A long succession of blowing and rainy weather much impeded our progress with the Adelaide; but the Hope was hoisted out, and prepared for service.
Before daylight on the 14th I was informed that the Beagle was seen in the offing. Blue lights were burnt, and lanterns immediately shown to guide her to the anchorage; but our disappointment was great when the stranger proved to be Mr. W. Low's schooner, the Uxbridge. He had been sealing since November in the neighbourhood of Noir Island, near the outer entrance of the Barbara Channel, and was on his way to Cape Gregory to meet his elder brother, who had been collecting sea-elephant oil at South Shetland. The Uxbridge had entered the Strait from the Pacific, by the Magdalen 'Channel,' which last year we thought a Sound, and had attempted to explore in the Hope, but had been deceived by the abrupt change in the direction of the Channel at Cape Turn.
At last (on the 28th), after the Beagle's absence had been protracted to more than a month beyond the time intended, we were relieved from painful anxiety, and much rejoiced, by Mr. Tarn's telling us he had just seen her, and in two hours afterwards she arrived.
Captain Stokes, to my great surprise, told me that he had been examining the whole coast between Port Desire and Cape Virgins, and for the last ten days had been detained in the Gallegos River by heavy gales of wind. He had sounded round, and fixed the position of the Bellaco Rock, or St. Estevan's Shoal, the existence of which had been so long doubted. He had also visited and partially surveyed, the harbours of Port San Julian and Santa Cruz, besides Coy Bay, and had made almost a complete survey of the River Gallegos, which he found to be a large and rapid river, whose entrance forms a spacious port: instead of being blocked up by a mound of shingle four or five feet above the level of the sea, and having so small a stream as to escape the notice of Mr. Weddell as he walked along the beach.[94] Cape Fairweather is so remarkable, and so correctly placed upon the chart, that Mr. Weddell, in his search for the river, must have very much deceived himself. I should think he must have mistaken the ravine described upon my former visit, since that is the only part which answers his description: it could not be Coy Bay, because that opening, although of minor importance, has a broad boat communication with the sea.
Captain Stokes described the tide at the anchorage, within the mouth of the Gallegos, as running at the rate of five knots, and rising forty-six feet. From Mr. Weddell's account, he was on the point of passing by without examining it; but the weather being fine, he determined to go in his boat and ascertain the truth of that description. It was soon evident that the river was large, and, returning to his ship, he lost no time in anchoring her within the entrance, where she rode out a heavy gale from S.W.
The Beagle left the Gallegos on the 23d, and reached Port Famine on the 28th, a very short passage, since she remained for a night and the greater part of a day at Gregory Bay, to communicate with the natives. When approaching the First Narrow, Captain Stokes observed a brig, apparently at anchor, under Cape Orange, and supposing her either to have found a good anchorage, or to be in distress, steered towards her. Before he had reached within two miles of her, the Beagle touched the ground, but was extricated from the danger most fortunately, because it was nearly high water; and had she remained a-ground during the tide, the consequences might have been serious—at least, she could not have been got off without lightening her considerably. The brig proved to be the Adeona (Mr. Low's vessel), on her way to meet the Uxbridge. In attempting to enter the narrow, she grounded on the shoals, and had been left dry. The following tide again floated her, and she was on the point of getting underweigh, when the Beagle hove in sight. Captain Stokes finding that the Adeona had received no damage, proceeded to Gregory Bay.
By the Beagle's arrival we were informed of the death of Lieutenant Robert H. Sholl, after an illness of ten days. His remains were interred at Port San Julian, where a tablet was erected to his memory.
This excellent young man's death was sincerely regretted by all his friends, and by none more than by me. He was appointed to the expedition, as a midshipman, solely on account of his high character.
During our voyage from England, he made himself conspicuously useful in saving the cargo of a vessel, which was stranded in Port Praya; and on our arrival at Rio de Janeiro, the Commander-in-chief appointed him to a vacant lieutenantcy on board the Beagle: an appointment which, up to the period of his lamented death, he filled zealously and most creditably.[95]
On the 1st of March we were surprised by the appearance of three Europeans, walking round Point St. Anna. A boat was sent for them, and we found they were deserters from the Uxbridge, who had come to volunteer for our ships.
The following day the Adeona and Uxbridge arrived, on their way to Port San Antonio, to boil their oil; but I recommended Bougainville, or (as the sealers call it) Jack's Harbour, as more convenient for their purpose, and more secure from storms, as well as from troublesome visits of the natives.
Upon my offering to restore the three deserters to the Uxbridge, Mr. Low requested me to keep them, and another, also, who was anxious to join the Adventure, to which I consented, as the Adelaide wanted men.
A few days after Mr. Low's departure, he returned in a whale-boat to ask assistance in repairing the Uxbridge's rudder. By our help it was soon made serviceable, and she was enabled to prosecute her voyage, which could not otherwise have been continued.
The Adelaide being ready for sea: her first service was to be an examination of the St. Sebastian Channel, which, from its delineation on the old charts, would seem to penetrate through the large eastern island of Tierra del Fuego. In the voyage of the Nodales (in the year 1618), an opening on the eastern coast, supposed to be the mouth of a channel, communicating with the Strait of Magalhaens, was discovered. After describing the coast to the south of Cape Espiritu Santo, the journal of that voyage states: "We found, in the channel of St. Sebastian, twenty fathoms clear ground. The north shore is a beach of white sand, five leagues in extent, stretching out from the high land that terminates at Cape Espiritu Santo, and giving the coast here the appearance of a deep bay; but, on a nearer approach, a projecting tract of low shore is observed. The south extremity of this low beach is a sandy point, round which the channel trends; the mouth is a league and a half wide. The south shore is higher than the land to the northward, and in the middle of the bay the depth is from fifteen to twenty fathoms clear ground, and a good bottom; but from mid-channel to the south shore the bottom is stony, and the water, of little depth, there being only six and seven fathoms. From hence the channel shows itself, and continues, as far as we could see, of the same breadth. It seemed to be a large sea. The latitude was observed to be 53° 16′."[96]
From the above account, and from the chart that accompanies it, in which this inlet is made to communicate with the Strait of Magalhaens by the opening round Cape Monmouth, our knowledge of the supposed St. Sebastian Channel was derived. That there is a deep bay, in the latitude of 53° 16′, not only appears from the account of the Nodales, who were within the heads, although it seems they did not proceed beyond the stony ground on the south side of the entrance; but also from the accounts of vessels who have lately seen it; and of one ship-master who was deterred from entering, by the formidable notice on our charts of its being "only navigable for small vessels," whence he conjectured that the tides would be very strong, and the channel occasionally narrow, as well as narrow, and shoal.
Sarmiento, Narborough, Byron, Wallis, Bougainville, and Cordova, have severally noticed an opening, which corresponds to this supposed channel, namely, that between Capes Monmouth and Valentyn; but the object of those voyagers having been to make the passage through the known Strait, to explore this opening was, in all probability, considered a waste of time; yet, that such a channel was supposed to exist, we must conclude from the conspicuous figure it makes in the charts of Tierra del Fuego.
Had there been a knowledge of its affording any communication with the sea, surely Sarmiento and Narborough, as well as the Nodales, who navigated the Strait from west to east, would have been induced to attempt to pass through; and avoid the dangers, as well as difficulties, of the channels to the northward.
Anxious to set the question at rest, I gave Captain Stokes orders to proceed to survey the western coasts, between the Strait of Magalhaens and latitude 47° south, or as much of those dangerous and exposed shores as he could examine, with the means at his disposal, and sailed myself, in the Adelaide, to explore the supposed St. Sebastian Channel. Every discretionary power was given to Captain Stokes to act as he pleased, for the benefit of the service; but he had strict orders to return to Port Famine by the 24th of July, when I hoped to move the Adventure to some other part of the Strait, and to recommence operations with the earliest days of spring, if the winter should be unfit for our work.
Having crossed over to the southward of Point Boqueron, we proceeded, on the 13th of March, to the N.E. (in which direction the opening trended), at no great distance from the northern shore; behind which the country seemed to rise gradually to the summit of a long ridge of table-land, terminating near the First Narrow, and appearing like that in the neighbourhood of Cape Gregory. It was inhabited; for here and there we observed the smoke of fires, perhaps intended as invitations for us to land.
The south side of the opening seemed (after forming a small bay under Nose Peak) to extend in a direction parallel to the northern coast of the bay, for three or four leagues, when it dipped beneath the horizon. Neither shore had any opening or indenture in its coast line, of sufficient size to shelter even a boat; so that a vessel caught here, with a south-westerly gale, would have little chance of escape; unless a channel should exist, of which, from the stillness of the water and the total absence of tide, we had very little hope. The soundings were variable between twenty and thirty fathoms, and the bottom seemed to be of shells, probably covering a substratum of clay or sand. As we stood on, a small rocky lump came in sight, which appeared to be the termination of the northern shore, and again we flattered ourselves with the expectation of finding a passage; but in less than half an hour afterwards, the bay was distinctly seen to be closed by low land, and the rocky lump proved to be an isolated mass of rock, about two miles inland. As every person on board was then satisfied of the non-existence of any channel, we put about to return, and by bearings of Mount Tarn, crossed by angles from Mount Graves, Nose Peak, and Point Boqueron, our position, and the extent of this bay, were determined. As it affords neither anchorage nor shelter, nor any other advantage for the navigator, we have named it Useless Bay. It was too much exposed to the prevailing winds to allow of our landing to examine the country, and its productions, or to communicate with the Indians; and as there was not much likelihood of finding anything of novel character, we lost no time in retreating from so exposed a place. Abreast of Point Boqueron the patent log gave for our run twenty-six miles, precisely the same distance which it had given in the morning; so that from five o'clock in the morning until ten, and from ten o'clock until four in the afternoon, we had not experienced the least tide, which of itself is a fact confirmatory of the non-existence of a channel.
From the fires of the natives in this part having been noticed at a distance from the beach, it would seem that they derive their subsistence from hunting rather than fishing; and as there are guanacoes on the south shore of the First Narrow, it is probable the people's habits resemble those of the Patagonians, rather than the Fuegians; but as they have no horses, the chase of so shy and swift an animal as the guanaco must be fatiguing and very precarious.[97]
Sarmiento is the only person on record who has communicated with the natives in the neighbourhood of Cape Monmouth. He calls them in his narrative a large race (Gente grande). There it was that he was attacked by the Indians, whom he repulsed, and one of whom he made prisoner.
We remained a night in Port Famine, and again set out in the Adelaide to survey some of the western parts of the Strait. Bad weather forced us into Port San Antonio; of which Cordova gives so favourable an account, that we were surprised to find it small and inconvenient, even for the Adelaide.
He describes the port to be a mile and a half long, and three quarters of a mile broad: we found the length a mile and a quarter, and the mean breadth scarcely a quarter of a mile. It possesses no one advantage that is not common to almost every other harbour and cove in the Strait; and for a ship, or square-rigged vessel of any kind, it is both difficult to enter, and dangerous to leave. Besides the local disadvantages of Port San Antonio, the weather in it is seldom fair, even when the day is fine elsewhere. It lies at the base of the Lomas Range, which rises almost perpendicularly to the height of three thousand feet, fronting the great western channel of the Strait, whence it receives upon its cold surface the western winds, and is covered by the vapour, which is condensed from them, while in all other parts the sun may be shining brightly.
This port is formed by a channel, a quarter of a mile wide, separating two islands from the shore. The best anchorage is off a picturesque little bay on the south island, which is thickly wooded to the water's edge with the holly leaved berberis,[98] fuchsia, and veronica, growing to the height of twenty feet; over-topped and sheltered by large beech, and Winter's-bark trees, rooted under a thick mossy carpet, through which a narrow Indian path winds between arbutus and currant bushes, and round prostrate stems of dead trees, leading to the seaward side of the island. Upon the beach, just within the bushes, and sheltered by a large and wide-spreading fuchsia bush, in full flower, stood two Indian wigwams, which, apparently, had not been inhabited since the visit of poor Ainsworth. He had occupied these very wigwams for two days, having covered them over with the boat's sail; and remains of the ropeyarns that tied it down were still there: a melancholy memento.