Equatorial America

Not far from Cape Forward, near the middle of the strait, which is the most southerly portion of the American continent, three native boats were seen during our passage. The steamer was slowed for a few moments to give us a brief opportunity to see the savage occupants. These three frail, ill-built canoes were tossed high and low by the swell of the Pacific, which set to the eastward through the strait. Each boat contained a man, a couple of women, and one or two children, the latter entirely naked, the others nearly so. They were Fuegians, raising their hands and voices to attract our attention, asking for food and tobacco, to which appeal a generous response was made. Their broad faces, high cheek-bones, low foreheads, and flat noses, their faces and necks screened by coarse black hair, did not challenge our admiration, however much we were exercised by pity for human beings in so desolate a condition. They certainly possessed two redeeming features, – brilliant eyes and teeth of dazzling whiteness. The fruit thrown to them seemed best to suit the ideas and palates of the children, who devoured oranges, skin and all; but the gift of clothing which was made to the parents was laid aside for future consideration, though there are probably no "ole clo'" merchants in Terra del Fuego. The men ate hard sea biscuit and slices of cold corned beef ravenously. The plump, well-rounded shoulders and limbs of the women showed them to be in far better physical condition than the men, whose bodies consisted of little besides skin and bones. They were copper colored, and the skin of the women shone in the bright sunlight which prevailed for the moment, as though they had been varnished. If their faces had been as well formed as their bodies, they would have been models of natural beauty. How these people could remain so nearly naked with apparent comfort, while we found overcoats quite necessary, was a problem difficult to solve satisfactorily.

"They were born so," said our first officer. "As you go through life with your face and hands exposed, so they go with their entire bodies. It is a mere matter of habit, – habit from babyhood to maturity."

All of which is perfectly reasonable. It was observed that on the bottom of their boats was a layer of flat stones, and on these, just amidship, was spread a low, smouldering fire of dried vines and small twigs, designed to temper the atmosphere about them. So frail were the boats that one of the occupants was kept constantly baling out water.

It is impossible to form any intelligent estimate as to how many of these aborigines there are in and about the strait. They find food, like the canvas-back ducks, in the wild celery, adding shell-fish and dried berberries, and are a strictly nomadic people. After exhausting the products of one vicinity, for the time being, they move on, but return to the locality at a proper time, when nature has recuperated herself and furnished a fresh supply of vegetable growth and edible shell-fish. A stranded whale is a godsend to these savages, upon the putrid flesh of which they live and fatten until all has disappeared. In their primitive way they hunt this leviathan, but want of proper facilities renders them rarely successful. Occasionally they manage to plant a spear in some vital spot, deep enough to be effectual, so that the whale, after diving to the depths of the sea, finally comes to the surface, near the place where he was wounded, to thrash about and to die. Even then, unless it is at a favorable point, the large body is liable to be swept away by the strong tide setting through the strait, so that the natives seldom secure a carcass by these means.

Not long since one of the European mail steamers, on approaching the Atlantic end of the strait, sighted an object which was at first thought to be a sunken rock. If this was its character, it was all important to obtain the exact location. A boat was lowered and pulled to the object, when it was found to be the carcass of a dead whale, in which was a stout wooden spear which had fatally wounded the creature. Securely attached to the spear, by means of a rope made of animal sinews, there were a couple of inflated bladders. The spear was evidently a Fuegian weapon, and though it had finally cost the whale his life, the dead body had been carried by the current far beyond the reach of those who had caused the fatal wound. The discovery showed the crude manner in which these savages seek to possess themselves of a whale occasionally and thus to appease their barbaric appetites. They could not pursue one in their frail boats, but the creature is sometimes found sleeping on the surface of the sea, which is the Fuegian opportunity for approaching it noiselessly, and for planting a spear in some vital part of the huge body. Whales, when thus attacked, do not show fight, but their instinct leads them to dive at once.

A few whales were observed within the strait during our passage, some so near as to show that they had no fear of the ship. It was curious to watch them. There was a baby whale among the rest, five or six feet in length, which kept very close to its dam; it suddenly disappeared once while we were watching the school, though only to rise again to the surface of the sea and emit a tiny fountain of spray from its diminutive blow-hole. In passing a small inlet which formed a calm, sheltered piece of water, still as an inland lake, there were seen upon its tranquil bosom a few white geese, quietly floating, while close at hand upon some rocks, a half score of awkward penguins were also observed, with their ludicrous dummy wings, and their bodies supported in a half standing, half sitting position.

Ducks seem to be very abundant in the strait, but geese are scarce. An occasional cormorant is caught sight of, with its distended pouch bearing witness to its proverbial voracity. All the birds one sees in these far away regions have each some peculiar adaptability to the climate, the locality, or to both. The penguin never makes the mistake of seeking our northern shores, nor is the albatross often seen north of the fortieth degree of south latitude. True, were the former to emigrate, he would have to swim the whole distance, but the latter is so marvelously strong of wing that it has been said of him, he might breakfast, if he chose, at the Cape of Good Hope, and dine on the coast of Newfoundland.

Terra del Fuego, – "Land of Fire," – which makes the southern side of the strait, opposite Patagonia, is composed of a very large group of islands washed by the Atlantic on the east side and the Pacific on the west, trending towards the southeast for about two hundred miles from the strait, and terminating at Cape Horn. The largest of these islands is East Terra del Fuego, which measures from east to west between three and four hundred miles. One can only speak vaguely of detail, as this is still a terra incognita. These islands do indeed form "a land of desolation," as Captain Cook appropriately named them, sparsely inhabited to be sure, but hardly fit for human beings. They are deeply indented and cut up by arms of the sea, and composed mostly of sterile mountains, whose tops are covered with perpetual snow. When the mountains are not too much exposed to the ocean storms on the west coast, they are scantily covered with a species of hardy, wind-distorted trees from the water's edge upward to the snow line, which is here about two thousand feet above the sea. In sheltered areas this growth is dense and forest-like, especially nearest to the sea; in others it is interspersed by bald and blanched patches of barren rocks. In some open places, where they have worn themselves a broad path, the glaciers come down to the water, discharging sections of ice constantly into the deep sea, crowded forward and downward by the immense but slow-moving mass behind, – a frozen river, – thus illustrating the habit of the iceberg-producing glaciers of the far north.

One never approaches this subject without recalling the lamented Agassiz and his absorbing theories relating to it.

The author has seen huge glaciers in Scandinavia and in Switzerland, forming natural exhibitions of great interest; each country has peculiarities in this respect. In the last-named country, for instance, there is no example where a glacier descends lower than thirty-five hundred feet above the sea level, while in Norway the only one of which he can speak from personal observation has before it a large terminal moraine, thus losing the capacity for that most striking performance, the discharge of icebergs. The best example of this interesting operation of nature which we have ever witnessed, and probably the most effective in the world, is that of the Muir glacier in Alaska, where an immense frozen river comes boldly down from the Arctic regions to the sea level, with a sheer height at its terminus of over two hundred feet. From this unique façade, nearly two miles in width, the constant tumbling of icebergs into the sea is accompanied by a noise like a salvo of cannon. This glacier, it should be remembered, also extends to the bottom of the bay, where it enters it two hundred feet below the surface of the water, thus giving it a height, or perhaps we should say a depth and height combined, of fully four hundred feet. Icebergs are discharged from the submerged portion continually, and float to the surface, thus repeating the process below the water which is all the while going on above it, and visible upon the perpendicular surface. Nothing which we have seen in the Canadian Selkirks, in Switzerland, Norway, or elsewhere, equals in size, grandeur, or clearly defined glacial action, the famous Muir glacier of Alaska.

The most remarkable peak to be seen in passing through the Strait of Magellan is Mount Sarmiento, which is inexpressibly grand in its proportions, dominating the borders of Cockburn's Channel near the Pacific end of the great water-way. It is about seven thousand feet in height, a spotless cone of snow, being in form extremely abrupt and pointed. This frosty monarch sends down from its upper regions a score or more of narrow, sky-blue glaciers to the sea through openings in the dusky forest. Darwin was especially impressed by the sight of these when he explored this region, and speaks of them as looking like so many Niagaras, but they are only miniature glaciers after all. One sees in the Pyrenees and the St. Gothard Pass similar cascades flowing down from the mountains towards the valleys, except that in the one instance the crystal waters are liquid, in the other they are quite congealed. The group or range of which Sarmiento is the apex is very generally shrouded in mist, and is visited by frequent rain, snow, and hail storms. We were fortunate to see it under a momentary glow of warm sunshine, when the sky was deepest blue, and the ermine cloak of the mountain was spangled with frost gems.

It would seem that such exposure to the elements in a frigid climate, and such deprivations as must be constantly endured by the barbarous natives who inhabit these bleak regions, must surely shorten their lives, and perhaps it does so, though "the survival of the fittest," who grow up to maturity, is in such numbers that one is a little puzzled in considering the matter. A singular instance touching upon this point came indirectly to the writer's knowledge.

It appears that four Fuegian women, one of whom was about forty years of age, and the others respectively about twenty, twenty-five, and thirty, were picked up adrift in the strait a few years ago. It was believed that they had escaped from some threatened tribal cruelty, but upon this subject they would reveal nothing. These fugitives were kindly taken in hand by philanthropic people at Sandy Point, and entertained with true Christian hospitality. When first discovered they were, as usual, quite naked, but were promptly clothed and properly housed. No more work was required of them than they chose voluntarily to perform; in short, they were most kindly treated, and though the best of care was taken of them in a hygienic sense, they all gradually faded, and died of consumption in less than two years. They seemed to be contented, were grateful and cheerful, but clothing and a warm house to live in, odd as it may seem, killed them! They were born to a free, open air and exposed daily life, and their apparently sturdy constitutions required such a mode of living. Civilized habits, strange to say, proved fatal to these wild children of the rough Fuegian coast.

CHAPTER XIV

The Land of Fire. – Cape Horn. – In the Open Pacific. – Fellow Passengers. – Large Sea-Bird. – An Interesting Invalid. – A Weary Captive. – A Broken-Hearted Mother. – Study of the Heavens. – The Moon. – Chilian Civil War. – Concepcion. – A Growing City. – Commercial Importance. – Cultivating City Gardens on a New Plan. – Important Coal Mines. – Delicious Fruits.

Magellan named this extreme southern land, of which we have been speaking, "the Land of Fire," because of the numerous fires which he, from his ships, saw on the shore at night, and which were then supposed by the discoverers to be of a volcanic character. The fact probably was that the Indians did not fail to recognize the need of artificial heat, especially at night, though they had not sufficient genius to teach them to construct garments suitable to protect them from the inclemency of the weather. These fires were kindled in the open air, but the natives camped close about them, sleeping within their influence.

Cape Horn, the extreme point of South America, on the outermost island of the Fuegian group, is a lofty, steep black rock, with a pointed summit, which has stood there for ages, like a watchful sentinel at his post. Two thirds of Patagonia and Terra del Fuego – the western part – belong to Chili, and the balance of both – the eastern part – belongs to the Argentine Republic. A recently consummated treaty between these two nationalities has fixed upon this final division of territory, and thus settled a question which has long been a source of dispute and ill feeling between them. This division makes Cape Horn belong to Chili, not a specially desirable possession, to be sure, but it is an indelible landmark.

The sail along the coast northward after leaving the Pacific mouth of the strait affords very little variety of scenery; the dull hue of the barren shore is without change of color for hundreds of miles, until the eye becomes weary of watching it, as we speed onward through the long, indolent ocean swell. Arid hills and small indentures form the coast line, but as we get further northward, this dreary sameness is varied by the appearance of an occasional small settlement, forming a group of dwellings of a rude character, possibly a mining region or a fishing hamlet, connected with some business locality further inland. Sometimes a green valley is descried, which makes a verdant gulch opening quite down to the sea.

This dense monotony becomes more and more tedious, until one longs to get somewhere, anywhere, away from it.

In the dearth of scenic interest, we fall to studying the various passengers traveling between the Pacific ports, a great variety of nationalities being represented. Among those of the second-class was a handsome Italian boy, with marvelous eyes of jet and a profusion of long black hair. He had a small organ hung about his neck, and carried an intelligent monkey with him. The boy and his monkey joined in the performance of certain simple, amusing tricks to elicit money from the lookers-on. Both boy and monkey were happy in the result achieved, the former in liberal cash receipts, the latter in being fed liberally with cakes and bonbons. The capacity of monkeys for the rapid consumption of palatable dainties is one of the unsolved mysteries of nature.

Schools of porpoises played about the hull of the ship, and clouds of sea-birds at times wheeled about the topmasts, or followed in the ship's wake watching for refuse from the cook's department. Occasionally the head of a large, deep-water turtle would appear for a moment above the surface, twisting its awkward neck to watch the course of the steamer, while shoreward the mottled surface of the gently undulating waves betrayed the presence of myriads of small fish, over which hovered predatory birds of the gull tribe. Now and again one would swoop swiftly downward to secure a victim to its appetite. Few albatrosses were seen after leaving the Pacific mouth of the strait. They are lovers of the stormy Antarctic region, with the tempestuous atmosphere of which their great power of wing enables them to cope successfully. The author has seen one of these birds off the southern coast of New Zealand which spread eleven feet from tip to tip of its extended wings. It was caught with a floating bait by one of the seamen and drawn on board ship, where it was measured, but not until a long contest of strength had taken place between men and bird. The albatross was slightly wounded in the mouth and throat by the process of catching him with a baited hook. But they are hardy creatures, and unless injured in some vital part pay little heed to a small wound. After this bird had been examined, it was liberated, and resumed its graceful flight about the ship as though nothing unusual had happened.

An invalid girl of Spanish birth, who was perhaps sixteen years of age, very tenderly cared for by her mother, was propped up daily in a reclining seat upon deck, where she might find amusement in watching the sea and distant shore, while inhaling the saline tonic of the atmosphere. Poor child, how her large, dark eyes, pallid lips, and painful respiration appealed to one's sympathy! It required no professional knowledge to divine her approaching fate. She was really in the last stages of consumption, and was on her way to a popular sanitarium near the coast, hoping against reason that the change might prove restorative and of radical benefit. It was pleasant to observe how promptly every one on board strove to add to her comfort by simple attentions and services, and how the choicest bits from the table were secured to tempt her capricious appetite. The grateful mother's eyes were often suffused with tears, carefully hidden from the gentle invalid. Her maternal heart was too full for the utterance even of thanks.

"Ah," said she to us in a low tone of voice, "she is the last of my three children, two boys and this girl. The two boys faded away just like this. Do you think there is any hope for her, señor?" "Why not, señora? We should never cease to hope. The land breeze and the springs where you are going may do wonders."

Heaven forgive us. The child's fate was only too plainly to be read in her attenuated form, and the dull action of her almost congested lungs.

One day a small, weary sea-bird, newly out of its nest, flew on board our ship quite exhausted, and being easily secured, was given to the young girl to pet. It soon became quite at home in her lap, eating small bread crumbs and little bits of meat from her fingers. Confidence being thus established between them, the little half-fledged creature would not willingly leave its new-found benefactress. It seemed to be a providential occurrence, affording considerable diversion to the sick one. For a while, at least, she was aroused from the listlessness which is so very significant in consumption, and her whole heart went out to the confiding little waif. It was a pretty sight to see the bird nestle contentedly close to her bosom, the pale-faced girl scarcely less fragile than the little feathered stranger she had adopted. No one thought that Death was hovering so very near, yet the third night after the bird flew on board the young girl lay in her shroud, with an ivory crucifix, typical of the Romish faith, in one hand, and the other resting upon the inanimate bird she had befriended, which had also breathed its last.

Attempted consolation to a freshly bleeding heart is almost always premature, and there are few, very few, human beings competent to offer it effectually under the best circumstances. The sad-eyed mother listened to a few well-meant words of this character, but slowly shook her head and made no reply. Time only could assuage the keenness of her sorrow. By and by she spoke, with her eyes still resting upon that pale, dead face, where nothing but a wonderful peace and serenity were now expressed.

"Have birds souls, do you think?" she asked, in a low, trembling voice.

"Possibly," was the reply; "but why do you ask?" "Because," she continued, speaking very slowly, "that tiny creature and my darling died almost at the same moment, and if so, her spirit would have company on its way to the good God."

The unconscious poetry of the thought, so quietly expressed by the sorrowing mother, as she sat beside the corpse with folded hands and burning eyes, which could not find the relief of tears, was very touching.

The motor of the big ship throbbed on, the routine of duty continued unchanged, passengers ate, drank, and were merry, the sea-birds wheeled about us uttering their sharp contentious cries, and we pressed forward through the opposing wind and tide, as though nothing had happened. Only a mother's loving heart was broken. Only a soul gone to its God. Surely such sweet innocence must be welcome in heaven. But ah! the great mystery of it all!

Most intelligent people will agree with us that no study known to science can compare with astronomy for absorbing interest. At sea one finds ample time, convenience, and incentive to study the sky, populous with countless hosts of constellations. Especially is it interesting to watch the numerous phases of the moon, beginning with her advent as a delicate crescent of pale light in the eastern sky, after the sun has set, and continuing to the period when she becomes full. Each succeeding night it is found that she has moved farther and farther westward, until, arriving at the full, she rises nearly at the same time that the sun sets. From the period of full moon, the disc of light diminishes nightly until the last quarter is reached, and the moon is then seen high over the ship's topmast head, before day breaks in the east. Thus she goes on waning, all the while drawing closer to the sun, until finally she becomes absorbed in his light. The interesting process completed, she again comes into view at twilight in the west, in her exquisite crescent form, once more to pass through a similar series of changes.

The superstition of sailors touching the moonlight is curious. No foremast hand will sleep where it shines directly upon him. They are voluble in relating many instances of comrades rendered melancholy-mad by so doing. "They talk about the moon making the ebb and flow of the tide," said an able seaman to the author. "There's lots of queer things about the moon, but that's d – d nonsense, saving your honor's presence." Thus Jack eagerly absorbs superstitious ideas, and ignores natural phenomena. No humble class of men are so intelligent in a general way, and yet at the same time so universally superstitious, as those who go down to the sea in ships.

In coming on to the west coast it is natural, perhaps, for the reader to expect us to refer briefly to the late civil war in Chili, but we have not attempted in these notes to depict the local political condition of any of the states of South America. In the past they have most of them shown themselves as changeable as the wind, and remarks which would depict the status of to-day might be quite unsuited to that of to-morrow. The average reader is sufficiently familiar with the struggle so lately ended in Chili. One party was led by the late President Balmaceda, in opposition to the other, known as the Congressional party. That which brought about this open warfare was the refusal of Congress any longer to recognize the president on account of his high-handed, illegal, and venal official conduct. A line will illustrate the cause of the outbreak. It was the Constitution of the country as against a Dictatorship. The President of the Chilian Republic, like the President of the United States, has a personal authority such as nowadays is wielded by few constitutional monarchs. Balmaceda proved to be a tyrant of the first water, abusing the power of his position to condemn to death those who opposed him, without even the semblance of a trial. He succeeded in attaching most of the regular army to his cause by profuse promises and the free use of money, while the navy went almost bodily over to the side of Congress. The contest assumed revolutionary proportions, and many battles were fought. As a casual observer, the author heartily coincided with the Congressional party, and rejoices at their wholesale triumph.