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Title: Journal of Researches
The Voyage Of The Beagle
Author: Charles Darwin
Illustrator: R.T. Pritchett
Release Date: July 29, 2001 [eBook #3704]
[Most recently updated: August 19, 2022]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
Produced by: Sue Asscher and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VOYAGE OF THE BEAGLE ***
A NATURALIST’S VOYAGE
ROUND THE WORLD
First Edition May 1860
Second Edition May 1870
Third Edition February 1872
Fourth Edition July 1874
Fifth Edition March 1876
Sixth Edition January 1879
Seventh Edition May 1882
Eighth Edition February 1884
Ninth Edition August 1886
Tenth Edition January 1888
Eleventh Edition January 1890
Reprinted June 1913
[Illustration: H.M.S. BEAGLE IN STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. MT SARMIENTO IN
THE DISTANCE.]
Journal of Researches
into the
Natural History & Geology
of the
countries visited during the voyage
round the world of H.M.S. _Beagle_
under the command of Captain Fitz Roy, R.N.
By Charles Darwin, M.A., F.R.S.
AUTHOR OF ‘ORIGIN OF SPECIES,’ ETC.
[Illustration]
A new edition with illustrations by R. T. Pritchett
of places visited and objects described.
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1913.
TO
CHARLES LYELL, ESQ., F.R.S.
This second edition is dedicated with grateful pleasure, as an
acknowledgment that the chief part of whatever scientific merit this
journal and the other works of the author may possess, has been derived
from studying the well-known and admirable
PRINCIPLES OF GEOLOGY.
PREFATORY NOTICE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION.
This work was described, on its first appearance, by a writer in the
_Quarterly Review_ as “One of the most interesting narratives of
voyaging that it has fallen to our lot to take up, and one which must
always occupy a distinguished place in the history of scientific
navigation.”
This prophecy has been amply verified by experience; the extraordinary
minuteness and accuracy of Mr. Darwin’s observations, combined with the
charm and simplicity of his descriptions, have ensured the popularity
of this book with all classes of readers—and that popularity has even
increased in recent years. No attempt, however, has hitherto been made
to produce an illustrated edition of this valuable work: numberless
places and objects are mentioned and described, but the difficulty of
obtaining authentic and original representations of them drawn for the
purpose has never been overcome until now.
Most of the views given in this work are from sketches made on the spot
by Mr. Pritchett, with Mr. Darwin’s book by his side. Some few of the
others are taken from engravings which Mr. Darwin had himself selected
for their interest as illustrating his voyage, and which have been
kindly lent by his son.
Mr. Pritchett’s name is well known in connection with the voyages of
the _Sunbeam_ and _Wanderer_, and it is believed that the
illustrations, which have been chosen and verified with the utmost care
and pains, will greatly add to the value and interest of the “VOYAGE OF
A NATURALIST.”
JOHN MURRAY.
_December_ 1889.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE.
I have stated in the preface to the first Edition of this work, and in
the _Zoology of the Voyage of the Beagle_, that it was in consequence
of a wish expressed by Captain Fitz Roy, of having some scientific
person on board, accompanied by an offer from him of giving up part of
his own accommodations, that I volunteered my services, which received,
through the kindness of the hydrographer, Captain Beaufort, the
sanction of the Lords of the Admiralty. As I feel that the
opportunities which I enjoyed of studying the Natural History of the
different countries we visited have been wholly due to Captain Fitz
Roy, I hope I may here be permitted to repeat my expression of
gratitude to him; and to add that, during the five years we were
together, I received from him the most cordial friendship and steady
assistance. Both to Captain Fitz Roy and to all the Officers of the
_Beagle_[1] I shall ever feel most thankful for the undeviating
kindness with which I was treated during our long voyage.
[1] I must take this opportunity of returning my sincere thanks to Mr.
Bynoe, the surgeon of the _Beagle_, for his very kind attention to me
when I was ill at Valparaiso.
This volume contains, in the form of a Journal, a history of our
voyage, and a sketch of those observations in Natural History and
Geology, which I think will possess some interest for the general
reader. I have in this edition largely condensed and corrected some
parts, and have added a little to others, in order to render the volume
more fitted for popular reading; but I trust that naturalists will
remember that they must refer for details to the larger publications
which comprise the scientific results of the Expedition. The _Zoology
of the Voyage of the Beagle_ includes an account of the Fossil
Mammalia, by Professor Owen; of the Living Mammalia, by Mr. Waterhouse;
of the Birds, by Mr. Gould; of the Fish, by the Reverend L. Jenyns; and
of the Reptiles, by Mr. Bell. I have appended to the descriptions of
each species an account of its habits and range. These works, which I
owe to the high talents and disinterested zeal of the above
distinguished authors, could not have been undertaken had it not been
for the liberality of the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s
Treasury, who, through the representation of the Right Honourable the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, have been pleased to grant a sum of one
thousand pounds towards defraying part of the expenses of publication.
I have myself published separate volumes on the _Structure and
Distribution of Coral Reefs_; on the _ Volcanic Islands visited during
the Voyage of the Beagle_; and on the _Geology of South America._ The
sixth volume of the _ Geological Transactions_ contains two papers of
mine on the Erratic Boulders and Volcanic Phenomena of South America.
Messrs. Waterhouse, Walker, Newman, and White, have published several
able papers on the Insects which were collected, and I trust that many
others will hereafter follow. The plants from the southern parts of
America will be given by Dr. J. Hooker, in his great work on the Botany
of the Southern Hemisphere. The Flora of the Galapagos Archipelago is
the subject of a separate memoir by him, in the _ Linnean
Transactions._ The Reverend Professor Henslow has published a list of
the plants collected by me at the Keeling Islands; and the Reverend J.
M. Berkeley has described my cryptogamic plants.
I shall have the pleasure of acknowledging the great assistance which I
have received from several other naturalists in the course of this and
my other works; but I must be here allowed to return my most sincere
thanks to the Reverend Professor Henslow, who, when I was an
undergraduate at Cambridge, was one chief means of giving me a taste
for Natural History,—who, during my absence, took charge of the
collections I sent home, and by his correspondence directed my
endeavours,—and who, since my return, has constantly rendered me every
assistance which the kindest friend could offer.
DOWN, BROMLEY, KENT,
_June_ 1845.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Porto Praya — Ribeira Grande — Atmospheric Dust with Infusoria — Habits
of a Sea-slug and Cuttle-fish — St. Paul’s Rocks, non-volcanic —
Singular Incrustations — Insects the first Colonists of Islands —
Fernando Noronha — Bahia — Burnished Rocks — Habits of a Diodon —
Pelagic Confervæ and Infusoria — Causes of discoloured Sea.
CHAPTER II
Rio de Janeiro — Excursion north of Cape Frio — Great Evaporation —
Slavery — Botofogo Bay — Terrestrial Planariæ — Clouds on the
Corcovado — Heavy Rain — Musical Frogs — Phosphorescent insects —
Elater, springing powers of — Blue Haze — Noise made by a Butterfly —
Entomology — Ants — Wasp killing a Spider — Parasitical Spider —
Artifices of an Epeira — Gregarious Spider — Spider with an
unsymmetrical web.
CHAPTER III
Monte Video — Maldonado — Excursion to R. Polanco — Lazo and Bolas —
Partridges — Absence of trees — Deer — Capybara, or River Hog —
Tucutuco — Molothrus, cuckoo-like habits — Tyrant-flycatcher —
Mocking-bird — Carrion Hawks — Tubes formed by lightning — House
struck.
CHAPTER IV
Rio Negro — Estancias attacked by the Indians — Salt-Lakes — Flamingoes
— R. Negro to R. Colorado — Sacred Tree — Patagonian Hare — Indian
Families — General Rosas — Proceed to Bahia Blanca — Sand Dunes — Negro
Lieutenant — Bahia Blanca — Saline incrustations — Punta Alta —
Zorillo.
CHAPTER V
Bahia Blanca — Geology — Numerous gigantic extinct Quadrupeds — Recent
Extinction — Longevity of Species — Large Animals do not require a
luxuriant vegetation — Southern Africa — Siberian Fossils — Two Species
of Ostrich — Habits of Oven-bird — Armadilloes — Venomous Snake, Toad,
Lizard — Hybernation of Animals — Habits of Sea-Pen — Indian Wars and
Massacres — Arrowhead — Antiquarian Relic.
CHAPTER VI
Set out for Buenos Ayres — Rio Sauce — Sierra Ventana — Third Posta —
Driving Horses — Bolas — Partridges and Foxes — Features of the country
— Long-legged Plover — Teru-tero — Hail-storm — Natural enclosures in
the Sierra Tapalguen — Flesh of Puma — Meat Diet — Guardia del Monte —
Effects of cattle on the Vegetation — Cardoon — Buenos Ayres — Corral
where cattle are slaughtered.
CHAPTER VII
Excursion to St. Fé — Thistle Beds — Habits of the Bizcacha — Little
Owl — Saline streams — Level plains — Mastodon — St. Fé — Change in
landscape — Geology — Tooth of extinct Horse — Relation of the Fossil
and recent Quadrupeds of North and South America — Effects of a great
drought — Parana — Habits of the Jaguar — Scissor-beak — Kingfisher,
Parrot, and Scissor-tail — Revolution — Buenos Ayres — State of
Government.
CHAPTER VIII
Excursion to Colonia del Sacramiento — Value of an Estancia — Cattle,
how counted — Singular breed of Oxen — Perforated pebbles —
Shepherd-dogs — Horses broken-in, Gauchos riding — Character of
Inhabitants — Rio Plata — Flocks of Butterflies — Aëronaut Spiders —
Phosphorescence of the Sea — Port Desire — Guanaco — Port St. Julian —
Geology of Patagonia — Fossil gigantic Animal — Types of Organisation
constant — Change in the Zoology of America — Causes of Extinction.
CHAPTER IX
Santa Cruz — Expedition up the River — Indians — Immense streams of
basaltic lava — Fragments not transported by the river — Excavation of
the valley — Condor, habits of — Cordillera — Erratic boulders of great
size — Indian relics — Return to the ship — Falkland Islands — Wild
horses, cattle, rabbits — Wolf-like fox — Fire made of bones — Manner
of hunting wild cattle — Geology — Streams of stones — Scenes of
violence — Penguin — Geese — Eggs of Doris — Compound animals.
CHAPTER X
Tierra del Fuego, first arrival — Good Success Bay — An account of the
Fuegians on board — Interview with the savages — Scenery of the forests
— Cape Horn — Wigwam Cove — Miserable condition of the savages —
Famines — Cannibals — Matricide — Religious feelings — Great Gale —
Beagle Channel — Ponsonby Sound — Build wigwams and settle the Fuegians
— Bifurcation of the Beagle Channel — Glaciers — Return to the Ship —
Second visit in the Ship to the Settlement — Equality of condition
amongst the natives.
CHAPTER XI
Strait of Magellan — Port Famine — Ascent of Mount Tarn — Forests —
Edible fungus — Zoology — Great Seaweed — Leave Tierra del Fuego —
Climate — Fruit-trees and productions of the southern coasts — Height
of snow-line on the Cordillera — Descent of glaciers to the sea —
Icebergs formed — Transportal of boulders — Climate and productions of
the Antarctic Islands — Preservation of frozen carcasses —
Recapitulation.
CHAPTER XII
Valparaiso — Excursion to the foot of the Andes — Structure of the land
— Ascend the Bell of Quillota — Shattered masses of greenstone —
Immense valleys — Mines — State of miners — Santiago — Hot-baths of
Cauquenes — Gold-mines — Grinding-mills — Perforated stones — Habits of
the Puma — El Turco and Tapacolo — Humming-birds.
CHAPTER XIII
Chiloe — General aspect — Boat excursion — Native Indians — Castro —
Tame fox — Ascend San Pedro — Chonos Archipelago — Peninsula of Tres
Montes — Granitic range — Boat-wrecked sailors — Low’s Harbour — Wild
potato — Formation of peat — Myopotamus, otter and mice — Cheucau and
Barking-bird — Opetiorhynchus — Singular character of ornithology —
Petrels.
CHAPTER XIV
San Carlos, Chiloe — Osorno in eruption, contemporaneously with
Aconcagua and Coseguina — Ride to Cucao — Impenetrable forests —
Valdivia — Indians — Earthquake — Concepcion — Great earthquake — Rocks
fissured — Appearance of the former towns — The sea black and boiling —
Direction of the vibrations — Stones twisted round — Great Wave —
Permanent Elevation of the land — Area of volcanic phenomena — The
connection between the elevatory and eruptive forces — Cause of
earthquakes — Slow elevation of mountain-chains.
CHAPTER XV
Valparaiso — Portillo Pass — Sagacity of mules — Mountain-torrents —
Mines, how discovered — Proofs of the gradual elevation of the
Cordillera — Effect of snow on rocks — Geological structure of the two
main ranges, their distinct origin and upheaval — Great subsidence —
Red snow — Winds — Pinnacles of snow — Dry and clear atmosphere —
Electricity — Pampas — Zoology of the opposite sides of the Andes —
Locusts — Great Bugs — Mendoza — Uspallata Pass — Silicified trees
buried as they grew — Incas Bridge — Badness of the passes exaggerated
— Cumbre — Casuchas — Valparaiso.
CHAPTER XVI
Coast-road to Coquimbo — Great loads carried by the miners — Coquimbo —
Earthquake — Step-formed terraces — Absence of recent deposits —
Contemporaneousness of the Tertiary formations — Excursion up the
valley — Road to Guasco — Deserts — Valley of Copiapó — Rain and
Earthquakes — Hydrophobia — The Despoblado — Indian ruins — Probable
change of climate — River-bed arched by an earthquake — Cold gales of
wind — Noises from a hill — Iquique — Salt alluvium — Nitrate of soda —
Lima — Unhealthy country — Ruins of Callao, overthrown by an earthquake
— Recent subsidence — Elevated shells on San Lorenzo, their
decomposition — Plain with embedded shells and fragments of pottery —
Antiquity of the Indian Race.
CHAPTER XVII
Galapagos Archipelago — The whole group volcanic — Number of craters —
Leafless bushes — Colony at Charles Island — James Island — Salt-lake
in crater — Natural history of the group — Ornithology, curious finches
— Reptiles — Great tortoises, habits of — Marine lizard, feeds on
seaweed — Terrestrial lizard, burrowing habits, herbivorous —
Importance of reptiles in the Archipelago — Fish, shells, insects —
Botany — American type of organisation — Differences in the species or
races on different islands — Tameness of the birds — Fear of man an
acquired instinct.
CHAPTER XVIII
Pass through the Low Archipelago — Tahiti — Aspect — Vegetation on the
mountains — View of Eimeo — Excursion into the interior — Profound
ravines — Succession of waterfalls — Number of wild useful plants —
Temperance of the inhabitants — Their moral state — Parliament convened
— New Zealand — Bay of Islands — Hippahs — Excursion to Waimate —
Missionary establishment — English weeds now run wild — Waiomio —
Funeral of a New Zealand woman — Sail for Australia.
CHAPTER XIX
Sydney — Excursion to Bathurst — Aspect of the woods — Party of natives
— Gradual extinction of the aborigines — Infection generated by
associated men in health — Blue Mountains — View of the grand gulf-like
valleys — Their origin and formation — Bathurst, general civility of
the lower orders — State of Society — Van Diemen’s Land — Hobart Town —
Aborigines all banished — Mount Wellington — King George’s Sound —
Cheerless aspect of the country — Bald Head, calcareous casts of
branches of trees — Party of natives — Leave Australia.
CHAPTER XX
Keeling Island — Singular appearance — Scanty Flora — Transport of
seeds — Birds and insects — Ebbing and flowing springs — Fields of dead
coral — Stones transported in the roots of trees — Great crab —
Stinging corals — Coral-eating fish — Coral formations — Lagoon islands
or atolls — Depth at which reef-building corals can live — Vast areas
interspersed with low coral islands — Subsidence of their foundations —
Barrier-reefs — Fringing-reefs — Conversion of fringing-reefs into
barrier-reefs, and into atolls — Evidence of changes in level —
Breaches in barrier-reefs — Maldiva atolls, their peculiar structure —
Dead and submerged reefs — Areas of subsidence and elevation —
Distribution of volcanoes — Subsidence slow and vast in amount.
CHAPTER XXI
Mauritius, beautiful appearance of — Great crateriform ring of
mountains — Hindoos — St. Helena — History of the changes in the
vegetation — Cause of the extinction of land-shells — Ascension —
Variation in the imported rats — Volcanic bombs — Beds of infusoria —
Bahia, Brazil — Splendour of tropical scenery — Pernambuco — Singular
reefs — Slavery — Return to England — Retrospect on our voyage.
List of Illustrations
Index
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
JOURNAL
Chapter I
Porto Praya—Ribeira Grande—Atmospheric Dust with Infusoria—Habits of a
Sea-slug and Cuttle-fish—St. Paul’s Rocks, non-volcanic—Singular
Incrustations—Insects the first Colonists of Islands—Fernando
Noronha—Bahia—Burnished Rocks—Habits of a Diodon—Pelagic Confervæ and
Infusoria—Causes of discoloured Sea.
ST. JAGO—CAPE DE VERD ISLANDS
After having been twice driven back by heavy south-western gales, Her
Majesty’s ship _Beagle_, a ten-gun brig, under the command of Captain
Fitz Roy, R.N., sailed from Devonport on the 27th of December, 1831.
The object of the expedition was to complete the survey of Patagonia
and Tierra del Fuego, commenced under Captain King in 1826 to 1830—to
survey the shores of Chile, Peru, and of some islands in the
Pacific—and to carry a chain of chronometrical measurements round the
World. On the 6th of January we reached Teneriffe, but were prevented
landing, by fears of our bringing the cholera: the next morning we saw
the sun rise behind the rugged outline of the Grand Canary Island, and
suddenly illumine the Peak of
Teneriffe, whilst the lower parts were veiled in fleecy clouds. This
was the first of many delightful days never to be forgotten. On the
16th of January 1832 we anchored at Porto Praya, in St. Jago, the chief
island of the Cape de Verd archipelago.
The neighbourhood of Porto Praya, viewed from the sea, wears a desolate
aspect. The volcanic fires of a past age, and the scorching heat of a
tropical sun, have in most places rendered the soil unfit for
vegetation. The country rises in successive steps of table-land,
interspersed with some truncate conical hills, and the horizon is
bounded by an irregular chain of more lofty mountains. The scene, as
beheld through the hazy atmosphere of this climate, is one of great
interest; if, indeed, a person, fresh from sea, and who has just
walked, for the first time, in a grove of cocoa-nut trees, can be a
judge of anything but his own happiness. The island would generally be
considered as very uninteresting, but to any one accustomed only to an
English landscape, the novel aspect of an utterly sterile land
possesses a grandeur which more vegetation might spoil. A single green
leaf can scarcely be discovered over wide tracts of the lava plains;
yet flocks of goats, together with a few cows, contrive to exist. It
rains very seldom, but during a short portion of the year heavy
torrents fall, and immediately afterwards a light vegetation springs
out of every crevice. This soon withers; and upon such naturally formed
hay the animals live. It had not now rained for an entire year. When
the island was discovered, the immediate neighbourhood of Porto Praya
was clothed with trees,[1] the reckless destruction of which has caused
here, as at St. Helena, and at some of the Canary islands, almost
entire sterility. The broad, flat-bottomed valleys, many of which serve
during a few days only in the season as watercourses, are clothed with
thickets of leafless bushes. Few living creatures inhabit these
valleys. The commonest bird is a kingfisher (Dacelo Iagoensis), which
tamely sits on the branches of the castor-oil plant, and thence darts
on grasshoppers and lizards. It is brightly coloured, but not so
beautiful as the European species: in its flight, manners, and place of
habitation, which is generally in the driest valley, there is also a
wide difference.
[1] I state this on the authority of Dr. E. Dieffenbach, in his German
translation of the first edition of this Journal.
One day, two of the officers and myself rode to Ribeira Grande, a
village a few miles eastward of Porto Praya. Until we reached the
valley of St. Martin, the country presented its usual dull brown
appearance; but here, a very small rill of water produces a most
refreshing margin of luxuriant vegetation. In the course of an hour we
arrived at Ribeira Grande, and were surprised at the sight of a large
ruined fort and cathedral. This little town, before its harbour was
filled up, was the principal place in the island: it now presents a
melancholy, but very picturesque appearance. Having procured a black
Padre for a guide, and a Spaniard who had served in the Peninsular war
as an interpreter, we visited a collection of buildings, of which an
ancient church formed the principal part. It is here the governors and
captain-generals of the islands have been buried. Some of the
tombstones recorded dates of the sixteenth century.[2] The heraldic
ornaments were the only things in this retired place that reminded us
of Europe. The church or chapel formed one side of a quadrangle, in the
middle of which a large clump of bananas were growing. On another side
was a hospital, containing about a dozen miserable-looking inmates.
[2] The Cape de Verd Islands were discovered in 1449. There was a
tombstone of a bishop with the date of 1571; and a crest of a hand and
dagger, dated 1497.
We returned to the Vênda to eat our dinners. A considerable number of
men, women, and children, all as black as jet, collected to watch us.
Our companions were extremely merry; and everything we said or did was
followed by their hearty laughter. Before leaving the town we visited
the cathedral. It does not appear so rich as the smaller church, but
boasts of a little organ, which sent forth singularly inharmonious
cries. We presented the black priest with a few shillings, and the
Spaniard, patting him on the head, said, with much candour, he thought
his colour made no great difference. We then returned, as fast as the
ponies would go, to Porto Praya.
Another day we rode to the village of St. Domingo, situated near the
centre of the island. On a small plain which we crossed, a few stunted
acacias were growing; their tops had been bent by the steady
trade-wind, in a singular manner—some of them even at right angles to
their trunks. The direction
of the branches was exactly north-east by north, and south-west by
south, and these natural vanes must indicate the prevailing direction
of the force of the trade-wind. The travelling had made so little
impression on the barren soil, that we here missed our track, and took
that to Fuentes. This we did not find out till we arrived there; and we
were afterwards glad of our mistake. Fuentes is a pretty village, with
a small stream; and everything appeared to prosper well, excepting,
indeed, that which ought to do so most—its inhabitants. The black
children, completely naked, and looking very wretched, were carrying
bundles of firewood half as big as their own bodies.
Near Fuentes we saw a large flock of guinea-fowl—probably fifty or
sixty in number. They were extremely wary, and could not be approached.
They avoided us, like partridges on a rainy day in September, running
with their heads cocked up; and if pursued, they readily took to the
wing.
The scenery of St. Domingo possesses a beauty totally unexpected, from
the prevalent gloomy character of the rest of the island. The village
is situated at the bottom of a valley, bounded by lofty and jagged
walls of stratified lava. The black rocks afford a most striking
contrast with the bright green vegetation, which follows the banks of a
little stream of clear water. It happened to be a grand feast-day, and
the village was full of people. On our return we overtook a party of
about twenty young black girls, dressed in excellent taste; their black
skins and snow-white linen being set off by coloured turbans and large
shawls. As soon as we approached near, they suddenly all turned round,
and covering the path with their shawls, sung with great energy a wild
song, beating time with their hands upon their legs. We threw them some
vintéms, which were received with screams of laughter, and we left them
redoubling the noise of their song.
One morning the view was singularly clear; the distant mountains being
projected with the sharpest outline, on a heavy bank of dark blue
clouds. Judging from the appearance, and from similar cases in England,
I supposed that the air was saturated with moisture. The fact, however,
turned out quite the contrary. The hygrometer gave a difference of 29.6
degrees, between the temperature of the air, and the point at which dew
was precipitated. This difference was nearly double
that which I had observed on the previous mornings. This unusual degree
of atmospheric dryness was accompanied by continual flashes of
lightning. Is it not an uncommon case, thus to find a remarkable degree
of aerial transparency with such a state of weather?
Generally the atmosphere is hazy; and this is caused by the falling of
impalpably fine dust, which was found to have slightly injured the
astronomical instruments. The morning before we anchored at Porto
Praya, I collected a little packet of this brown-coloured fine dust,
which appeared to have been filtered from the wind by the gauze of the
vane at the masthead. Mr. Lyell has also given me four packets of dust
which fell on a vessel a few hundred miles northward of these islands.
Professor Ehrenberg[3] finds that this dust consists in great part of
infusoria with siliceous shields, and of the siliceous tissue of
plants. In five little packets which I sent him, he has ascertained no
less than sixty-seven different organic forms! The infusoria, with the
exception of two marine species, are all inhabitants of fresh-water. I
have found no less than fifteen different accounts of dust having
fallen on vessels when far out in the Atlantic. From the direction of
the wind whenever it has fallen, and from its having always fallen
during those months when the harmattan is known to raise clouds of dust
high into the atmosphere, we may feel sure that it all comes from
Africa. It is, however, a very singular fact, that, although Professor
Ehrenberg knows many species of infusoria peculiar to Africa, he finds
none of these in the dust which I sent him. On the other hand, he finds
in it two species which hitherto he knows as living only in South
America. The dust falls in such quantities as to dirty everything on
board, and to hurt people’s eyes; vessels even have run on shore owing
to the obscurity of the atmosphere. It has often fallen on ships when
several hundred, and even more than a thousand miles from the coast of
Africa, and at points sixteen hundred miles distant in a north and
south direction. In some dust which was collected on a vessel three
hundred miles from the land, I was much surprised to find particles of
stone above the thousandth of an inch square,
mixed with finer matter. After this fact one need not be surprised at
the diffusion of the far lighter and smaller sporules of cryptogamic
plants.
[3] I must take this opportunity of acknowledging the great kindness
with which this illustrious naturalist has examined many of my
specimens. I have sent (June 1845) a full account of the falling of
this dust to the Geological Society.
The geology of this island is the most interesting part of its natural
history. On entering the harbour, a perfectly horizontal white band in
the face of the sea cliff, may be seen running for some miles along the
coast, and at the height of about forty-five feet above the water. Upon
examination, this white stratum is found to consist of calcareous
matter, with numerous shells embedded, most or all of which now exist
on the neighbouring coast. It rests on ancient volcanic rocks, and has
been covered by a stream of basalt, which must have entered the sea
when the white shelly bed was lying at the bottom. It is interesting to
trace the changes, produced by the heat of the overlying lava, on the
friable mass, which in parts has been converted into a crystalline
limestone, and in other parts into a compact spotted stone. Where the
lime has been caught up by the scoriaceous fragments of the lower
surface of the stream, it is converted into groups of beautifully
radiated fibres resembling arragonite. The beds of lava rise in
successive gently-sloping plains, towards the interior, whence the
deluges of melted stone have originally proceeded. Within historical
times no signs of volcanic activity have, I believe, been manifested in
any part of St. Jago. Even the form of a crater can but rarely be
discovered on the summits of the many red cindery hills; yet the more
recent streams can be distinguished on the coast, forming lines of
cliffs of less height, but stretching out in advance of those belonging
to an older series: the height of the cliffs thus affording a rude
measure of the age of the streams.
During our stay, I observed the habits of some marine animals. A large
Aplysia is very common. This sea-slug is about five inches long; and is
of a dirty yellowish colour, veined with purple. On each side of the
lower surface, or foot, there is a broad membrane, which appears
sometimes to act as a ventilator, in causing a current of water to flow
over the dorsal branchiæ or lungs. It feeds on the delicate seaweeds
which grow among the stones in muddy and shallow water; and I found in
its stomach several small pebbles, as in the gizzard of a bird. This
slug, when disturbed, emits a very fine
purplish-red fluid, which stains the water for the space of a foot
around. Besides this means of defence, an acrid secretion, which is
spread over its body, causes a sharp, stinging sensation, similar to
that produced by the Physalia, or Portuguese man-of-war.
I was much interested, on several occasions, by watching the habits of
an Octopus, or cuttle-fish. Although common in the pools of water left
by the retiring tide, these animals were not easily caught. By means of
their long arms and suckers, they could drag their bodies into very
narrow crevices; and when thus fixed, it required great force to remove
them. At other times they darted tail first, with the rapidity of an
arrow, from one side of the pool to the other, at the same instant
discolouring the water with a dark chestnut-brown ink. These animals
also escape detection by a very extraordinary, chameleon-like power of
changing their colour. They appear to vary their tints according to the
nature of the ground over which they pass: when in deep water, their
general shade was brownish purple, but when placed on the land, or in
shallow water, this dark tint changed into one of a yellowish green.
The colour, examined more carefully, was a French grey, with numerous
minute spots of bright yellow: the former of these varied in intensity;
the latter entirely disappeared and appeared again by turns. These
changes were effected in such a manner that clouds, varying in tint
between a hyacinth red and a chestnut-brown,[4] were continually
passing over the body. Any part, being subjected to a slight shock of
galvanism, became almost black: a similar effect, but in a less degree,
was produced by scratching the skin with a needle. These clouds, or
blushes as they may be called, are said to be produced by the alternate
expansion and contraction of minute vesicles containing variously
coloured fluids.[5]
[4] So named according to Patrick Symes’s nomenclature.
[5] See _Encyclopedia of Anatomy and Physiology_ article
“Cephalopoda.”
This cuttle-fish displayed its chameleon-like power both during the act
of swimming and whilst remaining stationary at the bottom. I was much
amused by the various arts to escape detection used by one individual,
which seemed fully aware that I was watching it. Remaining for a time
motionless, it would then stealthily advance an inch or two, like a cat
after a mouse; sometimes changing its colour: it thus proceeded, till
having
gained a deeper part, it darted away, leaving a dusky train of ink to
hide the hole into which it had crawled.
While looking for marine animals, with my head about two feet above the
rocky shore, I was more than once saluted by a jet of water,
accompanied by a slight grating noise. At first I could not think what
it was, but afterwards I found out that it was this cuttle-fish, which,
though concealed in a hole, thus often led me to its discovery. That it
possesses the power of ejecting water there is no doubt, and it
appeared to me that it could certainly take good aim by directing the
tube or siphon on the under side of its body. From the difficulty which
these animals have in carrying their heads, they cannot crawl with ease
when placed on the ground. I observed that one which I kept in the
cabin was slightly phosphorescent in the dark.
ST. PAUL’S ROCKS.—In crossing the Atlantic we hove-to, during the
morning of February 16th, 1832, close to the island of St. Paul’s. This
cluster of rocks is situated in 0° 58′ north latitude, and 29° 15′ west
longitude. It is 540 miles distant from the coast of America, and 350
from the island of Fernando Noronha. The highest point is only fifty
feet above the level of the sea, and the entire circumference is under
three-quarters of a mile. This small point rises abruptly out of the
depths of the ocean. Its mineralogical constitution is not simple; in
some parts the rock is of a cherty, in others of a feldspathic nature,
including thin veins of serpentine. It is a remarkable fact that all
the many small islands, lying far from any continent, in the Pacific,
Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, with the exception of the Seychelles and
this little point of rock, are, I believe, composed either of coral or
of erupted matter. The volcanic nature of these oceanic islands is
evidently an extension of that law, and the effect of those same
causes, whether chemical or mechanical, from which it results that a
vast majority of the volcanoes now in action stand either near
sea-coasts or as islands in the midst of the sea.
[Illustration]
The rocks of St. Paul appear from a distance of a brilliantly white
colour. This is partly owing to the dung of a vast multitude of
seafowl, and partly to a coating of a hard glossy substance with a
pearly lustre, which is intimately united to the surface of the rocks.
This, when examined with a lens, is
found to consist of numerous exceedingly thin layers, its total
thickness being about the tenth of an inch. It contains much animal
matter, and its origin, no doubt, is due to the action of the rain or
spray on the birds’ dung. Below some small masses of guano at
Ascension, and on the Abrolhos Islets, I found certain stalactitic
branching bodies, formed apparently in the same manner as the thin
white coating on these rocks. The branching bodies so closely resembled
in general appearance certain nulliporæ (a family of hard calcareous
sea-plants), that in lately looking hastily over my collection I did
not perceive the difference. The globular extremities of the branches
are of a pearly texture, like the enamel of teeth, but so hard as just
to scratch plate-glass. I may here mention, that on a part of the coast
of Ascension, where there is a vast accumulation of shelly sand, an
incrustation is deposited on the tidal rocks, by the water of the sea,
resembling, as represented in the picture above, certain cryptogamic
plants (Marchantiæ) often seen on damp walls. The surface of the fronds
is beautifully glossy; and those parts formed where fully exposed to
the light, are of a jet black colour, but those shaded under ledges are
only grey. I have shown specimens of this incrustation to several
geologists, and they all thought that they were of volcanic or igneous
origin! In its hardness and translucency—in its polish, equal to that
of the finest oliva-shell—in the bad smell given out, and loss of
colour under the blowpipe—it shows a close similarity with living
sea-shells. Moreover in sea-shells, it is known that the parts
habitually covered and shaded by the mantle of the animal, are of a
paler colour than those fully exposed to the light, just as is the case
with this incrustation. When we remember that lime, either as a
phosphate or carbonate, enters into the composition of the hard parts,
such as bones and shells, of all living animals, it is an interesting
physiological
fact[6] to find substances harder than the enamel of teeth, and
coloured surfaces as well polished as those of a fresh shell, re-formed
through inorganic means from dead organic matter—mocking, also, in
shape, some of the lower vegetable productions.
[6] Mr. Horner and Sir David Brewster have described (_Philosophical
Transactions_, 1836, p. 65) a singular “artificial substance
resembling shell.” It is deposited in fine, transparent, highly
polished, brown-coloured laminæ, possessing peculiar optical
properties, on the inside of a vessel, in which cloth, first prepared
with glue and then with lime, is made to revolve rapidly in water. It
is much softer, more transparent, and contains more animal matter,
than the natural incrustation at Ascension; but we here again see the
strong tendency which carbonate of lime and animal matter evince to
form a solid substance allied to shell.
We found on St. Paul’s only two kinds of birds—the booby and the noddy.
The former is a species of gannet, and the latter a tern. Both are of a
tame and stupid disposition, and are so unaccustomed to visitors, that
I could have killed any number of them with my geological hammer. The
booby lays her eggs on the bare rock; but the tern makes a very simple
nest with seaweed. By the side of many of these nests a small
flying-fish was placed; which I suppose, had been brought by the male
bird for its partner. It was amusing to watch how quickly a large and
active crab (Graspus), which inhabits the crevices of the rock, stole
the fish from the side of the nest, as soon as we had disturbed the
parent birds. Sir W. Symonds, one of the few persons who have landed
here, informs me that he saw the crabs dragging even the young birds
out of their nests, and devouring them. Not a single plant, not even a
lichen, grows on this islet; yet it is inhabited by several insects and
spiders. The following list completes, I believe, the terrestrial
fauna: a fly (Olfersia) living on the booby, and a tick which must have
come here as a parasite on the birds; a small brown moth, belonging to
a genus that feeds on feathers; a beetle (Quedius) and a woodlouse from
beneath the dung; and lastly, numerous spiders, which I suppose prey on
these small attendants and scavengers of the waterfowl. The
often-repeated description of the stately palm and other noble tropical
plants, then birds, and lastly man, taking possession of the coral
islets as soon as formed, in the Pacific, is probably not quite
correct; I fear it destroys the poetry of this story, that feather and
dirt-feeding and parasitic insects and spiders should be the first
inhabitants of newly formed oceanic land.
The smallest rock in the tropical seas, by giving a foundation
for the growth of innumerable kinds of seaweed and compound animals,
supports likewise a large number of fish. The sharks and the seamen in
the boats maintained a constant struggle which should secure the
greater share of the prey caught by the fishing-lines. I have heard
that a rock near the Bermudas, lying many miles out at sea, and at a
considerable depth, was first discovered by the circumstance of fish
having been observed in the neighbourhood.
FERNANDO NORONHA, _Feb_. 20_th._—As far as I was enabled to observe,
during the few hours we stayed at this place, the constitution of the
island is volcanic, but probably not of a recent date. The most
remarkable feature is a conical hill, about one thousand feet high, the
upper part of which is exceedingly steep, and on one side overhangs its
base. The rock is phonolite, and is divided into irregular columns. On
viewing one of these isolated masses, at first one is inclined to
believe that it has been suddenly pushed up in a semi-fluid state. At
St. Helena, however, I ascertained that some pinnacles, of a nearly
similar figure and constitution, had been formed by the injection of
melted rock into yielding strata, which thus had formed the moulds for
these gigantic obelisks. The whole island is covered with wood; but
from the dryness of the climate there is no appearance of luxuriance.
Half-way up the mountain some great masses of the columnar rock, shaded
by laurel-like trees, and ornamented by others covered with fine pink
flowers but without a single leaf, gave a pleasing effect to the nearer
parts of the scenery.
BAHIA, OR SAN SALVADOR. BRAZIL, _Feb_. 29_th._—The day has past
delightfully. Delight itself, however, is a weak term to express the
feelings of a naturalist who, for the first time, has wandered by
himself in a Brazilian forest. The elegance of the grasses, the novelty
of the parasitical plants, the beauty of the flowers, the glossy green
of the foliage, but above all the general luxuriance of the vegetation,
filled me with admiration. A most paradoxical mixture of sound and
silence pervades the shady parts of the wood. The noise from the
insects is so loud, that it may be heard even in a vessel anchored
several hundred yards from the shore; yet within the recesses of the
forest a universal silence appears to reign. To a person fond of
natural
history, such a day as this brings with it a deeper pleasure than he
can ever hope to experience again. After wandering about for some
hours, I returned to the landing-place; but, before reaching it, I was
overtaken by a tropical storm. I tried to find shelter under a tree,
which was so thick that it would never have been penetrated by common
English rain; but here, in a couple of minutes, a little torrent flowed
down the trunk. It is to this violence of the rain that we must
attribute the verdure at the bottom of the thickest woods: if the
showers were like those of a colder clime, the greater part would be
absorbed or evaporated before it reached the ground. I will not at
present attempt to describe the gaudy scenery of this noble bay,
because, in our homeward voyage, we called here a second time, and I
shall then have occasion to remark on it.
Along the whole coast of Brazil, for a length of at least 2000 miles,
and certainly for a considerable space inland, wherever solid rock
occurs, it belongs to a granitic formation. The circumstance of this
enormous area being constituted of materials which most geologists
believe to have been crystallised when heated under pressure, gives
rise to many curious reflections. Was this effect produced beneath the
depths of a profound ocean? or did a covering of strata formerly extend
over it, which has since been removed? Can we believe that any power,
acting for a time short of infinity, could have denuded the granite
over so many thousand square leagues?
On a point not far from the city, where a rivulet entered the sea, I
observed a fact connected with a subject discussed by Humboldt.[7] At
the cataracts of the great rivers Orinoco, Nile, and Congo, the
syenitic rocks are coated by a black substance, appearing as if they
had been polished with plumbago. The layer is of extreme thinness; and
on analysis by Berzelius it was found to consist of the oxides of
manganese and iron. In the Orinoco it occurs on the rocks periodically
washed by the floods, and in those parts alone where the stream is
rapid; or, as the Indians say, “the rocks are black where the waters
are white.” Here the coating is of a rich brown instead of a black
colour, and seems to be composed of ferruginous matter alone. Hand
specimens fail to give a just idea of these brown burnished stones
which glitter in the sun’s rays. They occur only within
the limits of the tidal waves; and as the rivulet slowly trickles down,
the surf must supply the polishing power of the cataracts in the great
rivers. In like manner, the rise and fall of the tide probably answer
to the periodical inundations; and thus the same effects are produced
under apparently different but really similar circumstances. The
origin, however, of these coatings of metallic oxides, which seem as if
cemented to the rocks, is not understood; and no reason, I believe, can
be assigned for their thickness remaining the same.
[7] _Personal Narrative,_ vol. v, pt. i, p. 18.
[Illustration]
One day I was amused by watching the habits of the Diodon antennatus,
which was caught swimming near the shore. This fish, with its flabby
skin, is well known to possess the singular power of distending itself
into a nearly spherical form. After having been taken out of water for
a short time, and then again immersed in it, a considerable quantity
both of water and air is absorbed by the mouth, and perhaps likewise by
the branchial orifices. This process is effected by two methods: the
air is swallowed, and is then forced into the cavity of the body, its
return being prevented by a muscular contraction which is externally
visible: but the water enters in a gentle stream through the mouth,
which is kept wide open and motionless; this latter action must,
therefore, depend on suction. The skin about the abdomen is much looser
than that on the back; hence, during the inflation, the lower surface
becomes far more distended than the upper; and the fish, in
consequence, floats with its back downwards. Cuvier doubts whether the
Diodon in this position is able to swim; but not only can it thus move
forward in a straight line, but it can turn round to either side. This
latter movement is effected solely by the aid of the pectoral fins; the
tail being collapsed and not used. From the body being buoyed up with
so much air, the branchial openings are out of water, but a stream
drawn in by the mouth constantly flows through them.
The fish, having remained in this distended state for a short time,
generally expelled the air and water with considerable force from the
branchial apertures and mouth. It could emit, at will, a certain
portion of the water, and it appears, therefore probable that this
fluid is taken in partly for the sake of regulating its specific
gravity. This Diodon possessed several means of defence. It could give
a severe bite, and could eject water from its mouth to some distance,
at the same time making a curious noise by the movement of its jaws. By
the inflation of its body, the papillæ, with which the skin is
covered, become erect and pointed. But the most curious circumstance
is, that it secretes from the skin of its belly, when handled, a most
beautiful carmine-red fibrous matter, which stains ivory and paper in
so permanent a manner, that the tint is retained with all its
brightness to the present day: I am quite ignorant of the nature and
use of this secretion. I have heard from Dr. Allan of Forres, that he
has frequently found a Diodon, floating alive and distended, in the
stomach of the shark; and that on several occasions he has known it eat
its way, not only through the coats of the stomach, but through the
sides of the monster, which has thus been killed. Who would ever have
imagined that a little soft fish could have destroyed the great and
savage shark?
_March_ 18_th._—We sailed from Bahia. A few days afterwards, when not
far distant from the Abrolhos Islets, my attention
was called to a reddish-brown appearance in the sea. The whole surface
of the water, as it appeared under a weak lens, seemed as if covered by
chopped bits of hay, with their ends jagged. These are minute
cylindrical confervæ, in bundles or rafts of from twenty to sixty in
each. Mr. Berkeley informs me that they are the same species
(Trichodesmium erythræum) with that found over large spaces in the Red
Sea, and whence its name of Red Sea is derived.[8] Their numbers must
be infinite: the ship passed through several bands of them, one of
which was about ten yards wide, and, judging from the mud-like colour
of the water, at least two and a half miles long. In almost every long
voyage some account is given of these confervæ. They appear especially
common in the sea near Australia; and off Cape Leeuwin I found an
allied, but smaller and apparently different species. Captain Cook, in
his third voyage, remarks that the sailors gave to this appearance the
name of sea-sawdust.
[8] M. Montagne in _Comptes Rendus_, etc. Juillet 1844; and _Annales
des Sciences Naturelles_, December 1844.
[Illustration]
Near Keeling Atoll, in the Indian Ocean, I observed many little masses
of confervæ a few inches square, consisting of long cylindrical threads
of excessive thinness, so as to be barely visible to the naked eye,
mingled with other rather larger bodies, finely conical at both ends.
Two of these are shown above united together. They vary in length from
.04 to .06, and even to .08 of an inch in length; and in diameter from
.006 to .008 of an inch. Near one extremity of the cylindrical part, a
green septum, formed of granular matter, and thickest in the middle,
may generally be seen. This, I believe, is the bottom of a most
delicate, colourless sac, composed of a pulpy substance, which lines
the exterior case, but does not extend within the extreme conical
points. In some specimens, small but perfect spheres of brownish
granular matter supplied the places of the septa; and I observed the
curious process by which they were produced. The pulpy matter of the
internal coating suddenly grouped itself into lines, some of which
assumed a form radiating from a common centre; it then continued, with
an irregular and rapid movement, to contract itself, so that in the
course of a second
the whole was united into a perfect little sphere, which occupied the
position of the septum at one end of the now quite hollow case. The
formation of the granular sphere was hastened by any accidental injury.
I may add, that frequently a pair of these bodies were attached to each
other, as represented above, cone beside cone, at that end where the
septum occurs.
I will here add a few other observations connected with the
discoloration of the sea from organic causes. On the coast of Chile, a
few leagues north of Concepcion, the _Beagle_ one day passed through
great bands of muddy water, exactly like that of a swollen river; and
again, a degree south of Valparaiso, when fifty miles from the land,
the same appearance was still more extensive. Some of the water placed
in a glass was of a pale reddish tint; and, examined under a
microscope, was seen to swarm with minute animalcula darting about, and
often exploding. Their shape is oval, and contracted in the middle by a
ring of vibrating curved ciliæ. It was, however, very difficult to
examine them with care, for almost the instant motion ceased, even
while crossing the field of vision, their bodies burst. Sometimes both
ends burst at once, sometimes only one, and a quantity of coarse,
brownish, granular matter was ejected. The animal an instant before
bursting expanded to half again its natural size; and the explosion
took place about fifteen seconds after the rapid progressive motion had
ceased: in a few cases it was preceded for a short interval by a
rotatory movement on the longer axis. About two minutes after any
number were isolated in a drop of water, they thus perished. The
animals move with the narrow apex forwards, by the aid of their
vibratory ciliæ, and generally by rapid starts. They are exceedingly
minute, and quite invisible to the naked eye, only covering a space
equal to the square of the thousandth of an inch. Their numbers were
infinite; for the smallest drop of water which I could remove contained
very many. In one day we passed through two spaces of water thus
stained, one of which alone must have extended over several square
miles. What incalculable numbers of these microscopical animals! The
colour of the water, as seen at some distance, was like that of a river
which has flowed through a red clay district; but under the shade of
the vessel’s side it was quite as dark as chocolate. The line where the
red and blue water joined was distinctly
defined. The weather for some days previously had been calm, and the
ocean abounded, to an unusual degree, with living creatures.[9]
[9] M. Lesson (_Voyage de la Coquille_, tome i, p. 255) mentions red
water off Lima, apparently produced by the same cause. Peron, the
distinguished naturalist, in the _Voyage aux Terres Australes_, gives
no less than twelve references to voyagers who have alluded to the
discoloured waters of the sea (vol. ii, p. 239). To the references
given by Peron may be added, Humboldt’s _Personal Narrative_, vol. vi,
p. 804; Flinder’s _Voyage_, vol. i, p. 92; Labillardière, vol. i, p.
287; Ulloa’s _Voyage_; _Voyage of the Astrolabe and of the Coquille_;
Captain King’s _Survey of Australia_, etc.
In the sea around Tierra del Fuego, and at no great distance from the
land, I have seen narrow lines of water of a bright red colour, from
the number of crustacea, which somewhat resemble in form large prawns.
The sealers call them whale-food. Whether whales feed on them I do not
know; but terns, cormorants, and immense herds of great unwieldy seals
derive, on some parts of the coast, their chief sustenance from these
swimming crabs. Seamen invariably attribute the discoloration of the
water to spawn; but I found this to be the case only on one occasion.
At the distance of several leagues from the Archipelago of the
Galapagos, the ship sailed through three strips of a dark yellowish, or
mud-like water; these strips were some miles long, but only a few yards
wide, and they were separated from the surrounding water by a sinuous
yet distinct margin. The colour was caused by little gelatinous balls,
about the fifth of an inch in diameter, in which numerous minute
spherical ovules were embedded: they were of two distinct kinds, one
being of a reddish colour and of a different shape from the other. I
cannot form a conjecture as to what two kinds of animals these
belonged. Captain Colnett remarks that this appearance is very common
among the Galapagos Islands, and that the direction of the bands
indicates that of the currents; in the described case, however, the
line was caused by the wind. The only other appearance which I have to
notice, is a thin oily coat on the water which displays iridescent
colours. I saw a considerable tract of the ocean thus covered on the
coast of Brazil; the seamen attributed it to the putrefying carcass of
some whale, which probably was floating at no great distance. I do not
here mention the minute gelatinous particles, hereafter to be referred
to, which are frequently dispersed throughout the water, for they are
not sufficiently abundant to create any change of colour.
There are two circumstances in the above accounts which appear
remarkable: first, how do the various bodies which form the bands with
defined edges keep together? In the case of the prawn-like crabs, their
movements were as coinstantaneous as in a regiment of soldiers; but
this cannot happen from anything like voluntary action with the ovules,
or the confervæ, nor is it probable among the infusoria. Secondly,
what causes the length and narrowness of the bands? The appearance so
much resembles that which may be seen in every torrent, where the
stream uncoils into long streaks the froth collected in the eddies,
that I must attribute the effect to a similar action either of the
currents of the air or sea. Under this supposition we must believe that
the various organised bodies are produced in certain favourable places,
and are thence removed by the set of either wind or water. I confess,
however, there is a very great difficulty in imagining any one spot to
be the birthplace of the millions of millions of animalcula and
confervæ: for whence come the germs at such points?—the parent bodies
having been distributed by the winds and waves over the immense ocean.
But on no other hypothesis can I understand their linear grouping. I
may add that Scoresby remarks that green water abounding with pelagic
animals is invariably found in a certain part of the Arctic Sea.
[Illustration]
Chapter II
[Illustration]
Rio de Janeiro—Excursion north of Cape Frio—Great
Evaporation—Slavery—Botofogo Bay—Terrestrial Planariæ—Clouds on the
Corcovado—Heavy Rain—Musical Frogs—Phosphorescent Insects—Elater,
springing powers of—Blue Haze—Noise made by a
Butterfly—Entomology—Ants—Wasp killing a Spider—Parasitical
Spider—Artifices of an Epeira—Gregarious Spider—Spider with an
unsymmetrical Web.
RIO DE JANEIRO.
_April_ 4_th to July_ 5_th_, 1832.—A few days after our arrival I
became acquainted with an Englishman who was going to visit his estate,
situated rather more than a hundred miles from the capital, to the
northward of Cape Frio. I gladly accepted his kind offer of allowing me
to accompany him.
_April_ 8_th_, 1832.—Our party amounted to seven. The first stage was
very interesting. The day was powerfully hot, and as we passed through
the woods, everything was motionless, excepting the large and brilliant
butterflies, which lazily fluttered about. The view seen when crossing
the hills behind Praia Grande was most beautiful; the colours were
intense, and the prevailing tint a dark blue; the sky and the calm
waters of the bay vied with each other in splendour. After passing
through some cultivated country, we entered a forest which in the
grandeur of all its parts could not be exceeded. We arrived by midday
at
Ithacaia; this small village is situated on a plain, and round the
central house are the huts of the negroes. These, from their regular
form and position, reminded me of the drawings of the Hottentot
habitations in Southern Africa. As the moon rose early, we determined
to start the same evening for our sleeping-place at the Lagoa Marica.
As it was growing dark we passed under one of the massive, bare, and
steep hills of granite which are so common in this country. This spot
is notorious from having been, for a long time, the residence of some
runaway slaves, who, by cultivating a little ground near the top,
contrived to eke out a subsistence. At length they were discovered, and
a party of soldiers being sent, the whole were seized with the
exception of one old woman, who, sooner than again be led into slavery,
dashed herself to pieces from the summit of the mountain. In a Roman
matron this would have been called the noble love of freedom: in a poor
negress it is mere brutal obstinacy. We continued riding for some
hours. For the few last miles the road was intricate, and it passed
through a desert waste of marshes and lagoons. The scene by the dimmed
light of the moon was most desolate. A few fireflies flitted by us; and
the solitary snipe, as it rose, uttered its plaintive cry. The distant
and sullen roar of the sea scarcely broke the stillness of the night.
_April_ 9_th_, 1832.—We left our miserable sleeping-place before
sunrise. The road passed through a narrow sandy plain, lying between
the sea and the interior salt lagoons. The number of beautiful fishing
birds, such as egrets and cranes, and the succulent plants assuming
most fantastical forms, gave to the scene an interest which it would
not otherwise have possessed. The few stunted trees were loaded with
parasitical plants, among which the beauty and delicious fragrance of
some of the orchideæ were most to be admired. As the sun rose, the day
became extremely hot, and the reflection of the light and heat from the
white sand was very distressing. We dined at Mandetiba; the thermometer
in the shade being 84°. The beautiful view of the distant wooded hills,
reflected in the perfectly calm water of an extensive lagoon, quite
refreshed us. As the vênda[1] here was a very good one, and I have the
pleasant, but rare remembrance, of an excellent dinner, I will be
grateful and
presently describe it, as the type of its class. These houses are often
large, and are built of thick upright posts, with boughs interwoven,
and afterwards plastered. They seldom have floors, and never glazed
windows; but are generally pretty well roofed. Universally the front
part is open, forming a kind of verandah, in which tables and benches
are placed. The bedrooms join on each side, and here the passenger may
sleep as comfortably as he can, on a wooden platform covered by a thin
straw mat. The vênda stands in a courtyard, where the horses are fed.
On first arriving, it was our custom to unsaddle the horses and give
them their Indian corn; then, with a low bow, to ask the senhôr to do
us the favour to give us something to eat. “Anything you choose, sir,”
was his usual answer. For the few first times, vainly I thanked
Providence for having guided us to so good a man. The conversation
proceeding, the case universally became deplorable. “Any fish can you
do us the favour of giving ?”—“Oh no, sir.”—“Any soup?”—“No, sir.”—“Any
bread?”—“Oh no, sir.”—“Any dried meat?”—“Oh no, sir.” If we were lucky,
by waiting a couple of hours, we obtained fowls, rice, and farinha. It
not unfrequently happened that we were obliged to kill, with stones,
the poultry for our own supper. When, thoroughly exhausted by fatigue
and hunger, we timorously hinted that we should be glad of our meal,
the pompous, and (though true) most unsatisfactory answer was, “It will
be ready when it is ready.” If we had dared to remonstrate any further,
we should have been told to proceed on our journey, as being too
impertinent. The hosts are most ungracious and disagreeable in their
manners; their houses and their persons are often filthily dirty; the
want of the accommodation of forks, knives, and spoons is common; and I
am sure no cottage or hovel in England could be found in a state so
utterly destitute of every comfort. At Campos Novos, however, we fared
sumptuously; having rice and fowls, biscuit, wine, and spirits, for
dinner; coffee in the evening, and fish with coffee for breakfast. All
this, with good food for the horses, only cost 2 shillings 6 pence per
head. Yet the host of this vênda, being asked if he knew anything of a
whip which one of the party had lost, gruffly answered, “How should I
know? why did you not take care of it?—I suppose the dogs have eaten
it.”
[1] Vênda, the Portuguese name for an inn.
Leaving Mandetiba, we continued to pass through an
intricate wilderness of lakes; in some of which were fresh, in others
salt water shells. Of the former kind, I found a Limnæa in great
numbers in a lake, into which the inhabitants assured me that the sea
enters once a year, and sometimes oftener, and makes the water quite
salt. I have no doubt many interesting facts in relation to marine and
fresh-water animals might be observed in this chain of lagoons which
skirt the coast of Brazil. M. Gay[2] has stated that he found in the
neighbourhood of Rio shells of the marine genera solen and mytilus, and
fresh-water ampullariæ, living together in brackish water. I also
frequently observed in the lagoon near the Botanic Garden, where the
water is only a little less salt than in the sea, a species of
hydrophilus, very similar to a water-beetle common in the ditches of
England: in the same lake the only shell belonged to a genus generally
found in estuaries.
[2] _Annales des Sciences Naturelles_ for 1833.
Leaving the coast for a time, we again entered the forest. The trees
were very lofty, and remarkable, compared with those of Europe, from
the whiteness of their trunks. I see by my notebook, “wonderful and
beautiful flowering parasites,” invariably struck me as the most novel
object in these grand scenes. Travelling onwards we passed through
tracts of pasturage, much injured by the enormous conical ants’ nests,
which were nearly twelve feet high. They gave to the plain exactly the
appearance of the mud volcanoes at Jorullo, as figured by Humboldt. We
arrived at Engenhodo after it was dark, having been ten hours on
horseback. I never ceased, during the whole journey, to be surprised at
the amount of labour which the horses were capable of enduring; they
appeared also to recover from any injury much sooner than those of our
English breed. The Vampire bat is often the cause of much trouble, by
biting the horses on their withers. The injury is generally not so much
owing to the loss of blood, as to the inflammation which the pressure
of the saddle afterwards produces. The whole circumstance has lately
been doubted in England; I was therefore fortunate in being present
when one (Desmodus d’orbignyi, Wat.) was actually caught on a horse’s
back. We were bivouacking late one evening near Coquimbo, in Chile,
when my servant, noticing that one of the horses was very restive, went
to see what was the matter, and fancying he could distinguish
something,
suddenly put his hand on the beast’s withers, and secured the vampire.
In the morning the spot where the bite had been inflicted was easily
distinguished from being slightly swollen and bloody. The third day
afterwards we rode the horse, without any ill effects.
[Illustration]
_April_ 13_th_, 1832.—After three days’ travelling we arrived at
Socêgo, the estate of Senhôr Manuel Figuireda, a relation of one of our
party. The house was simple, and, though like a barn in form, was well
suited to the climate. In the sitting-room gilded chairs and sofas were
oddly contrasted with the whitewashed walls, thatched roof, and windows
without glass. The house, together with the granaries, the stables, and
workshops for the blacks, who had been taught various trades, formed a
rude kind of quadrangle; in the centre of which a large pile of coffee
was drying. These buildings stand on a little hill, overlooking the
cultivated ground, and surrounded on every side by a wall of dark green
luxuriant forest. The chief produce of this part of the country is
coffee. Each tree is supposed to yield annually, on an average, two
pounds; but some give as much as eight. Mandioca or cassava is likewise
cultivated in
great quantity. Every part of this plant is useful: the leaves and
stalks are eaten by the horses, and the roots are ground into a pulp,
which, when pressed dry and baked, forms the farinha, the principal
article of sustenance in the Brazils. It is a curious, though
well-known fact, that the juice of this most nutritious plant is highly
poisonous. A few years ago a cow died at this Fazênda, in consequence
of having drunk some of it. Senhôr Figuireda told me that he had
planted, the year before, one bag of feijaô or beans, and three of
rice; the former of which produced eighty, and the latter three hundred
and twenty fold. The pasturage supports a fine stock of cattle, and the
woods are so full of game that a deer had been killed on each of the
three previous days. This profusion of food showed itself at dinner,
where, if the tables did not groan, the guests surely did; for each
person is expected to eat of every dish. One day, having, as I thought,
nicely calculated so that nothing should go away untasted, to my utter
dismay a roast turkey and a pig appeared in all their substantial
reality. During the meals, it was the employment of a man to drive out
of the room sundry old hounds, and dozens of little black children,
which crawled in together, at every opportunity. As long as the idea of
slavery could be banished, there was something exceedingly fascinating
in this simple and patriarchal style of living: it was such a perfect
retirement and independence from the rest of the world. As soon as any
stranger is seen arriving, a large bell is set tolling, and generally
some small cannon are fired. The event is thus announced to the rocks
and woods, but to nothing else. One morning I walked out an hour before
daylight to admire the solemn stillness of the scene; at last, the
silence was broken by the morning hymn, raised on high by the whole
body of the blacks; and in this manner their daily work is generally
begun. On such fazêndas as these, I have no doubt the slaves pass happy
and contented lives. On Saturday and Sunday they work for themselves,
and in this fertile climate the labour of two days is sufficient to
support a man and his family for the whole week.
[Illustration]
_April_ 14_th_, 1832.—Leaving Socêgo, we rode to another estate on the
Rio Macâe, which was the last patch of cultivated ground in that
direction. The estate was two and a half miles long, and the owner had
forgotten how many broad. Only a very small
piece had been cleared, yet almost every acre was capable of yielding
all the various rich productions of a tropical land. Considering the
enormous area of Brazil, the proportion of cultivated ground can
scarcely be considered as anything compared to that which is left in
the state of nature: at some future age, how vast a population it will
support! During the second day’s journey we found the road so shut up
that it was necessary that a man should go ahead with a sword to cut
away the creepers. The forest abounded with beautiful objects; among
which the tree ferns, though not large, were, from their bright green
foliage, and the elegant curvature of their fronds, most worthy of
admiration. In the evening it rained very heavily, and although the
thermometer stood at 65°, I felt very cold. As soon as the rain ceased,
it was curious to observe the extraordinary evaporation which commenced
over the whole extent of the forest. At the height of a hundred feet
the hills were buried in a dense white vapour, which rose like columns
of smoke from the most thickly-wooded parts, and especially from the
valleys. I observed this phenomenon on several occasions: I suppose it
is owing to the large surface of foliage, previously heated by the
sun’s rays.
While staying at this estate, I was very nearly being an eye-witness to
one of those atrocious acts which can only take place in a slave
country. Owing to a quarrel and a lawsuit, the owner was on the point
of taking all the women and children from the male slaves, and selling
them separately at the public auction at Rio. Interest, and not any
feeling of compassion, prevented this act. Indeed, I do not believe the
inhumanity of separating thirty families, who had lived together for
many years, even occurred to the owner. Yet I will pledge myself, that
in humanity and good feeling he was superior to the common run of men.
It may be said there exists no limit to the blindness of interest and
selfish habit. I may mention one very trifling anecdote, which at the
time struck me more forcibly than any story of cruelty. I was crossing
a ferry with a negro who was uncommonly stupid. In endeavouring to make
him understand, I talked loud, and made signs, in doing which I passed
my hand near his face. He, I suppose, thought I was in a passion, and
was going to strike him; for instantly, with a frightened look and
half-shut eyes, he dropped his hands. I shall never
forget my feelings of surprise, disgust, and shame, at seeing a great
powerful man afraid even to ward off a blow, directed, as he thought,
at his face. This man had been trained to a degradation lower than the
slavery of the most helpless animal.
[Illustration]
_April_ 18_th_, 1832.—In returning we spent two days at Socêgo, and I
employed them in collecting insects in the forest. The greater number
of trees, although so lofty, are not more than three or four feet in
circumference. There are, of course, a few of much greater dimension.
Senhôr Manuel was then making a canoe 70 feet in length from a solid
trunk, which had originally been 110 feet long, and of great thickness.
The contrast of palm trees, growing amidst the common branching kinds,
never fails to give the scene an intertropical character. Here the
woods were ornamented by the Cabbage Palm—one of the most beautiful of
its family. With a stem so narrow that it might be clasped with the two
hands, it waves its elegant head at the height of forty or fifty feet
above the ground. The woody creepers, themselves covered by other
creepers, were of great thickness: some which I measured were two feet
in circumference. Many of the older trees presented a very curious
appearance from the tresses of a liana hanging from their boughs, and
resembling bundles of hay. If the eye was turned from the world of
foliage above, to the ground beneath, it was attracted by the extreme
elegance of the leaves of the ferns and mimosæ. The latter, in some
parts, covered the surface with a brushwood only a few inches high. In
walking across these thick beds of mimosæ, a broad track was marked by
the change of shade, produced by the drooping
of their sensitive petioles. It is easy to specify the individual
objects of admiration in these grand scenes; but it is not possible to
give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, astonishment,
and devotion, which fill and elevate the mind.
[Illustration]
_April_ 19_th_, 1832.—Leaving Socêgo, during the two first days we
retraced our steps. It was very wearisome work, as the road generally
ran across a glaring hot sandy plain, not far from the coast. I noticed
that each time the horse put its foot on the fine siliceous sand, a
gentle chirping noise was produced. On the third day we took a
different line, and passed through the gay little village of Madre de
Deôs. This is one of the principal lines of road in Brazil; yet it was
in so bad a state that no wheel vehicle, excepting the clumsy
bullock-wagon, could pass along. In our whole journey we did not cross
a single bridge built of stone; and those made of logs of wood were
frequently so much out of repair that it was necessary to go on one
side to avoid them. All distances are inaccurately known. The road is
often marked by crosses, in the place of milestones, to signify where
human blood has been spilled. On the evening of the 23rd we arrived at
Rio, having finished our pleasant little excursion.
During the remainder of my stay at Rio, I resided in a cottage at
Botofogo Bay. It was impossible to wish for anything more delightful
than thus to spend some weeks in so magnificent a country. In England
any person fond of natural history enjoys in his walks a great
advantage, by always having something to attract his attention; but in
these fertile climates, teeming with life, the attractions are so
numerous, that he is scarcely able to walk at all.
The few observations which I was enabled to make were almost
exclusively confined to the invertebrate animals. The existence of a
division of the genus Planaria, which inhabits the dry land, interested
me much. These animals are of so simple a structure, that Cuvier has
arranged them with the intestinal worms, though never found within the
bodies of other animals. Numerous species inhabit both salt and fresh
water; but those to which I allude were found, even in the drier parts
of the forest, beneath logs of rotten wood, on which I believe they
feed. In general form they resemble little slugs, but are very much
narrower in proportion, and several of the species are beautifully
coloured with longitudinal stripes. Their structure is very simple:
near the middle of the under or crawling surface there are two small
transverse slits, from the anterior one of which a funnel-shaped and
highly irritable mouth can be protruded. For some time after the rest
of the animal was completely dead from the effects of salt water or any
other cause, this organ still retained its vitality.
I found no less than twelve different species of terrestrial Planariæ
in different parts of the southern hemisphere.[3] Some specimens which
I obtained at Van Diemen’s Land, I kept alive for nearly two months,
feeding them on rotten wood. Having cut one of them transversely into
two nearly equal parts, in the course of a fortnight both had the shape
of perfect animals. I had, however, so divided the body, that one of
the halves contained both the inferior orifices, and the other, in
consequence, none. In the course of twenty-five days from the
operation, the more perfect half could not have been distinguished from
any other specimen. The other had increased much in size; and towards
its posterior end, a clear space was formed in the parenchymatous mass,
in which a rudimentary cup-shaped mouth could clearly be distinguished;
on the under surface, however, no corresponding slit was yet open. If
the increased heat of the
weather, as we approached the equator, had not destroyed all the
individuals, there can be no doubt that this last step would have
completed its structure. Although so well known an experiment, it was
interesting to watch the gradual production of every essential organ,
out of the simple extremity of another animal. It is extremely
difficult to preserve these Planariæ; as soon as the cessation of life
allows the ordinary laws of change to act, their entire bodies become
soft and fluid, with a rapidity which I have never seen equalled.
[3] I have described and named these species in the _Annals of Natural
History_, vol. xiv, p. 241.
I first visited the forest in which these Planariæ were found, in
company with an old Portuguese priest who took me out to hunt with him.
The sport consisted in turning into the cover a few dogs, and then
patiently waiting to fire at any animal which might appear. We were
accompanied by the son of a neighbouring farmer—a good specimen of a
wild Brazilian youth. He was dressed in a tattered old shirt and
trousers, and had his head uncovered: he carried an old-fashioned gun
and a large knife. The habit of carrying the knife is universal; and in
traversing a thick wood it is almost necessary, on account of the
creeping plants. The frequent occurrence of murder may be partly
attributed to this habit. The Brazilians are so dexterous with the
knife that they can throw it to some distance with precision, and with
sufficient force to cause a fatal wound. I have seen a number of little
boys practising this art as a game of play, and from their skill in
hitting an upright stick, they promised well for more earnest attempts.
My companion, the day before, had shot two large bearded monkeys. These
animals have prehensile tails, the extremity of which, even after
death, can support the whole weight of the body. One of them thus
remained fast to a branch, and it was necessary to cut down a large
tree to procure it. This was soon effected, and down came tree and
monkey with an awful crash. Our day’s sport, besides the monkey, was
confined to sundry small green parrots and a few toucans. I profited,
however, by my acquaintance with the Portuguese padre, for on another
occasion he gave me a fine specimen of the Yagouaroundi cat.
Every one has heard of the beauty of the scenery near Botofogo. The
house in which I lived was seated close beneath the well-known mountain
of the Corcovado. It has been remarked, with much truth, that abruptly
conical hills are characteristic of
the formation which Humboldt designates as gneiss-granite. Nothing can
be more striking than the effect of these huge rounded masses of naked
rock rising out of the most luxuriant vegetation.
I was often interested by watching the clouds, which, rolling in from
seaward, formed a bank just beneath the highest point of the Corcovado.
This mountain, like most others, when thus partly veiled, appeared to
rise to a far prouder elevation than its real height of 2300 feet. Mr.
Daniell has observed, in his meteorological essays, that a cloud
sometimes appears fixed on a mountain summit, while the wind continues
to blow over it. The same phenomenon here presented a slightly
different appearance. In this case the cloud was clearly seen to curl
over, and rapidly pass by the summit, and yet was neither diminished
nor increased in size. The sun was setting, and a gentle southerly
breeze, striking against the southern side of the rock, mingled its
current with the colder air above; and the vapour was thus condensed:
but as the light wreaths of cloud passed over the ridge, and came
within the influence of the warmer atmosphere of the northern sloping
bank, they were immediately redissolved.
The climate, during the months of May and June, or the beginning of
winter, was delightful. The mean temperature, from observations taken
at nine o’clock, both morning and evening, was only 72°. It often
rained heavily, but the drying southerly winds soon again rendered the
walks pleasant. One morning, in the course of six hours, 1.6 inches of
rain fell. As this storm passed over the forests which surround the
Corcovado, the sound produced by the drops pattering on the countless
multitude of leaves was very remarkable, it could be heard at the
distance of a quarter of a mile, and was like the rushing of a great
body of water. After the hotter days, it was delicious to sit quietly
in the garden and watch the evening pass into night. Nature, in these
climes, chooses her vocalists from more humble performers than in
Europe. A small frog, of the genus Hyla, sits on a blade of grass about
an inch above the surface of the water, and sends forth a pleasing
chirp: when several are together they sing in harmony on different
notes. I had some difficulty in catching a specimen of this frog. The
genus Hyla has its toes terminated by small suckers; and I found this
animal could crawl up a pane of glass, when placed
absolutely perpendicular. Various cicadæ and crickets, at the same
time, keep up a ceaseless shrill cry, but which, softened by the
distance, is not unpleasant. Every evening after dark this great
concert commenced; and often have I sat listening to it, until my
attention has been drawn away by some curious passing insect.
At these times the fireflies are seen flitting about from hedge to
hedge. On a dark night the light can be seen at about two hundred paces
distant. It is remarkable that in all the different kinds of glowworms,
shining elaters, and various marine animals (such as the crustacea,
medusæ, nereidæ, a coralline of the genus Clytia, and Pyrosoma),
which I have observed, the light has been of a well-marked green
colour. All the fireflies, which I caught here, belonged to the
Lampyridæ (in which family the English glowworm is included), and the
greater number of specimens were of Lampyris occidentalis.[4] I found
that this insect emitted the most brilliant flashes when irritated: in
the intervals, the abdominal rings were obscured. The flash was almost
coinstantaneous in the two rings, but it was just perceptible first in
the anterior one. The shining matter was fluid and very adhesive:
little spots, where the skin had been torn, continued bright with a
slight scintillation, whilst the uninjured parts were obscured. When
the insect was decapitated the rings remained uninterruptedly bright,
but not so brilliant as before: local irritation with a needle always
increased the vividness of the light. The rings in one instance
retained their luminous property nearly twenty-four hours after the
death of the insect. From these facts it would appear probable, that
the animal has only the power of concealing or extinguishing the light
for short intervals, and that at other times the display is
involuntary. On the muddy and wet gravel-walks I found the larvæ of
this lampyris in great numbers: they resembled in general form the
female of the English glowworm. These larvæ possessed but feeble
luminous powers; very differently from their parents, on the slightest
touch they feigned death, and ceased to shine; nor did irritation
excite any fresh display. I kept several of them alive for some time:
their tails are very singular organs, for they act, by a well-fitted
contrivance, as suckers or organs of attachment,
and likewise as reservoirs for saliva, or some such fluid. I repeatedly
fed them on raw meat; and I invariably observed, that every now and
then the extremity of the tail was applied to the mouth, and a drop of
fluid exuded on the meat, which was then in the act of being consumed.
The tail, notwithstanding so much practice, does not seem to be able to
find its way to the mouth; at least the neck was always touched first,
and apparently as a guide.
[4] I am greatly indebted to Mr. Waterhouse for his kindness in naming
for me this and many other insects, and giving me much valuable
assistance.
When we were at Bahia, an elater or beetle (Pyrophorus luminosus,
Illig.) seemed the most common luminous insect. The light in this case
was also rendered more brilliant by irritation. I amused myself one day
by observing the springing powers of this insect, which have not, as it
appears to me, been properly described.[5] The elater, when placed on
its back and preparing to spring, moved its head and thorax backwards,
so that the pectoral spine was drawn out, and rested on the edge of its
sheath. The same backward movement being continued, the spine, by the
full action of the muscles, was bent like a spring; and the insect at
this moment rested on the extremity of its head and wing-cases. The
effort being suddenly relaxed, the head and thorax flew up, and in
consequence, the base of the wing-cases struck the supporting surface
with such force, that the insect by the reaction was jerked upwards to
the height of one or two inches. The projecting points of the thorax,
and the sheath of the spine, served to steady the whole body during the
spring. In the descriptions which I have read, sufficient stress does
not appear to have been laid on the elasticity of the spine: so sudden
a spring could not be the result of simple muscular contraction,
without the aid of some mechanical contrivance.
[5] Kirby’s _Entomology_, vol. ii, p. 317.
On several occasions I enjoyed some short but most pleasant excursions
in the neighbouring country. One day I went to the Botanic Garden,
where many plants, well known for their great utility, might be seen
growing. The leaves of the camphor, pepper, cinnamon, and clove trees
were delightfully aromatic; and the bread-fruit, the jaca, and the
mango, vied with each other in the magnificence of their foliage. The
landscape in the neighbourhood of Bahia almost takes its character
from the two latter trees. Before seeing them, I had no idea that any
trees could cast so black a shade on the ground. Both of them bear to
the evergreen vegetation of these climates the same kind of relation
which laurels and hollies in England do to the lighter green of the
deciduous trees. It may be observed that the houses within the tropics
are surrounded by the most beautiful forms of vegetation, because many
of them are at the same time most useful to man. Who can doubt that
these qualities are united in the banana, the cocoa-nut, the many kinds
of palm, the orange, and the bread-fruit tree?
[Illustration]
During this day I was particularly struck with a remark of Humboldt’s,
who often alludes to “the thin vapour which, without changing the
transparency of the air, renders its tints more harmonious, and softens
its effects.” This is an appearance which I have never observed in the
temperate zones. The atmosphere, seen through a short space of half or
three-quarters of a mile, was perfectly lucid, but at a greater
distance all colours were blended into a most beautiful haze, of a pale
French grey, mingled with a little blue. The condition of the
atmosphere between the morning and about noon, when the effect was most
evident, had undergone little change, excepting in its dryness. In the
interval, the difference between the dew point and temperature had
increased from 7.5° to 17°.
On another occasion I started early and walked to the Gavia, or topsail
mountain. The air was delightfully cool and fragrant; and the drops of
dew still glittered on the leaves of the large liliaceous plants, which
shaded the streamlets of clear water. Sitting down on a block of
granite, it was delightful to watch the various insects and birds as
they flew past. The humming-bird seems particularly fond of such shady
retired spots. Whenever I saw these little creatures buzzing round a
flower, with their wings vibrating so rapidly as to be scarcely
visible, I was reminded of the sphinx moths: their movements and habits
are indeed in many respects very similar.
Following a pathway I entered a noble forest, and from a height of five
or six hundred feet, one of those splendid views was presented, which
are so common on every side of Rio. At this elevation the landscape
attains its most brilliant tint; and every form, every shade, so
completely surpasses in magnificence all that the European has ever
beheld in his own country, that
he knows not how to express his feelings. The general effect frequently
recalled to my mind the gayest scenery of the Opera-house or the great
theatres. I never returned from these excursions empty-handed. This day
I found a specimen of a curious fungus, called Hymenophallus. Most
people know the English Phallus, which in autumn taints the air with
its odious smell: this, however, as the entomologist is aware, is to
some of our beetles a delightful fragrance. So was it here; for a
Strongylus, attracted by the odour, alighted on the fungus as I carried
it in my hand. We here see in two distant countries a similar relation
between plants and insects of the same families, though the species of
both are different. When man is the agent in introducing into a country
a new species this relation is often broken: as one instance of this I
may mention that the leaves of the cabbages and lettuces, which in
England afford food to such a multitude of slugs and caterpillars, in
the gardens near Rio are untouched.
During our stay at Brazil I made a large collection of insects. A few
general observations on the comparative importance of the different
orders may be interesting to the English entomologist. The large and
brilliantly-coloured Lepidoptera bespeak the zone they inhabit, far
more plainly than any other race of animals. I allude only to the
butterflies; for the moths, contrary to what might have been expected
from the rankness of the vegetation, certainly appeared in much fewer
numbers than in our own temperate regions. I was much surprised at the
habits of Papilio feronia. This butterfly is not uncommon, and
generally frequents the orange-groves. Although a high flier, yet it
very frequently alights on the trunks of trees. On these occasions its
head is invariably placed downwards; and its wings are expanded in a
horizontal plane, instead of being folded vertically, as is commonly
the case. This is the only butterfly which I have ever seen that uses
its legs for running. Not being aware of this fact, the insect, more
than once, as I cautiously approached with my forceps, shuffled on one
side just as the instrument was on the point of closing, and thus
escaped. But a far more singular fact is the power which this species
possesses of making a noise.[6] Several times when a pair,
probably male and female, were chasing each other in an irregular
course, they passed within a few yards of me; and I distinctly heard a
clicking noise, similar to that produced by a toothed wheel passing
under a spring catch. The noise was continued at short intervals, and
could be distinguished at about twenty yards’ distance: I am certain
there is no error in the observation.
[6] Mr. Doubleday has lately described (before the Entomological
Society, March 3rd, 1845) a peculiar structure in the wings of this
butterfly, which seems to be the means of its making its noise. He
says, “It is remarkable for having a sort of drum at the base of the
fore wings, between the costal nervure and the subcostal. These two
nervures, moreover, have a peculiar screw-like diaphragm or vessel in
the interior.” I find in Langsdorff’s travels (in the years 1803-7, p.
74) it is said, that in the island of St. Catherine’s on the coast of
Brazil, a butterfly called Februa Hoffmanseggi, makes a noise, when
flying away, like a rattle.
I was disappointed in the general aspect of the Coleoptera. The number
of minute and obscurely coloured beetles is exceedingly great.[7] The
cabinets of Europe can, as yet, boast only of the larger species from
tropical climates. It is sufficient to disturb the composure of an
entomologist’s mind, to look forward to the future dimensions of a
complete catalogue. The carnivorous beetles, or Carabidæ, appear in
extremely few numbers within the tropics: this is the more remarkable
when compared to the case of the carnivorous quadrupeds, which are so
abundant in hot countries. I was struck with this observation both on
entering Brazil, and when I saw the many elegant and active forms of
the Harpalidæ reappearing on the temperate plains of La Plata. Do the
very numerous spiders and rapacious Hymenoptera supply the place of the
carnivorous beetles? The carrion-feeders and Brachelytra are very
uncommon; on the other hand, the Rhyncophora and Chrysomelidæ, all of
which depend on the vegetable world for subsistence, are present in
astonishing numbers. I do not here refer to the number of different
species, but to that of the individual insects; for on this it is that
the most striking character in the entomology of different countries
depends. The orders Orthoptera and Hemiptera are particularly numerous;
as likewise is the stinging division of the Hymenoptera; the bees,
perhaps, being excepted. A person, on first entering a tropical
forest, is astonished at the labours of the ants: well-beaten paths
branch off in every direction, on which an army of never-failing
foragers may be seen, some going forth, and others returning, burdened
with pieces of green leaf, often larger than their own bodies.
[7] I may mention, as a common instance of one day’s (June 23rd)
collecting, when I was not attending particularly to the Coleoptera,
that I caught sixty-eight species of that order. Among these, there
were only two of the Carabidæ, four Brachelytra, fifteen Rhyncophora,
and fourteen of the Chrysomelidæ. Thirty-seven species of Arachnidæ,
which I brought home, will be sufficient to prove that I was not
paying overmuch attention to the generally favoured order of
Coleoptera.
A small dark-coloured ant sometimes migrates in countless numbers. One
day, at Bahia, my attention was drawn by observing many spiders,
cockroaches, and other insects, and some lizards, rushing in the
greatest agitation across a bare piece of ground. A little way behind,
every stalk and leaf was blackened by a small ant. The swarm having
crossed the bare space, divided itself, and descended an old wall. By
this means many insects were fairly enclosed; and the efforts which the
poor little creatures made to extricate themselves from such a death
were wonderful. When the ants came to the road they changed their
course, and in narrow files reascended the wall. Having placed a small
stone so as to intercept one of the lines, the whole body attacked it,
and then immediately retired. Shortly afterwards another body came to
the charge, and again having failed to make any impression, this line
of march was entirely given up. By going an inch round, the file might
have avoided the stone, and this doubtless would have happened, if it
had been originally there: but having been attacked, the lion-hearted
little warriors scorned the idea of yielding.
Certain wasp-like insects, which construct in the corners of the
verandahs clay cells for their larvæ, are very numerous in the
neighbourhood of Rio. These cells they stuff full of half-dead spiders
and caterpillars, which they seem wonderfully to know how to sting to
that degree as to leave them paralysed but alive, until their eggs are
hatched; and the larvae feed on the horrid mass of powerless,
half-killed victims—a sight which has been described by an enthusiastic
naturalist[8] as curious and pleasing! I was much interested one day by
watching a deadly contest between a Pepsis and a large spider of the
genus Lycosa. The wasp made a sudden dash at its prey, and then flew
away: the spider was evidently wounded, for, trying to escape, it
rolled down a little slope, but had still strength
sufficient to crawl into a thick tuft of grass. The wasp soon returned,
and seemed surprised at not immediately finding its victim. It then
commenced as regular a hunt as ever hound did after fox; making short
semicircular casts, and all the time rapidly vibrating its wings and
antennæ. The spider, though well concealed, was soon discovered, and
the wasp, evidently still afraid of its adversary’s jaws, after much
manœuvring, inflicted two stings on the under side of its thorax. At
last, carefully examining with its antennæ the now motionless spider,
it proceeded to drag away the body. But I stopped both tyrant and
prey.[9]
[8] In a Manuscript in the British Museum by Mr. Abbott, who made his
observations in Georgia; see Mr. A. White’s paper in the _Annals of
Natural History_, vol. vii, p. 472. Lieutenant Hutton has described a
sphex with similar habits in India, in the _Journal of the Asiatic
Society_, vol. i, p. 555.
[9] Don Felix Azara (vol. i, p. 175), mentioning a hymenopterous
insect, probably of the same genus, says he saw it dragging a dead
spider through tall grass, in a straight line to its nest, which was
one hundred and sixty-three paces distant. He adds that the wasp, in
order to find the road, every now and then made “demi-tours d’environ
trois palmes.”
The number of spiders, in proportion to other insects, is here compared
with England very much larger; perhaps more so than with any other
division of the articulate animals. The variety of species among the
jumping spiders appears almost infinite. The genus, or rather family of
Epeira, is here characterized by many singular forms; some species have
pointed coriaceous shells, others enlarged and spiny tibiæ. Every path
in the forest is barricaded with the strong yellow web of a species,
belonging to the same division with the Epeira clavipes of Fabricius,
which was formerly said by Sloane to make, in the West Indies, webs so
strong as to catch birds. A small and pretty kind of spider, with very
long fore-legs, and which appears to belong to an undescribed genus,
lives as a parasite on almost every one of these webs. I suppose it is
too insignificant to be noticed by the great Epeira, and is therefore
allowed to prey on the minute insects, which, adhering to the lines,
would otherwise be wasted. When frightened, this little spider either
feigns death by extending its front legs, or suddenly drops from the
web. A large Epeira of the same division with Epeira tuberculata and
conica is extremely common, especially in dry situations. Its web,
which is generally placed among the great leaves of the common agave,
is sometimes strengthened near the centre by a pair or even four zigzag
ribbons, which connect two adjoining rays. When any large insect, as a
grasshopper or wasp, is caught, the spider, by a dexterous movement,
makes it revolve
very rapidly, and at the same time emitting a band of threads from its
spinners, soon envelops its prey in a case like the cocoon of a
silkworm. The spider now examines the powerless victim, and gives the
fatal bite on the hinder part of its thorax; then retreating, patiently
waits till the poison has taken effect. The virulence of this poison
may be judged of from the fact that in half a minute I opened the mesh,
and found a large wasp quite lifeless. This Epeira always stands with
its head downwards near the centre of the web. When disturbed, it acts
differently according to circumstances: if there is a thicket below, it
suddenly falls down; and I have distinctly seen the thread from the
spinners lengthened by the animal while yet stationary, as preparatory
to its fall. If the ground is clear beneath, the Epeira seldom falls,
but moves quickly through a central passage from one to the other side.
When still further disturbed, it practises a most curious manœuvre:
standing in the middle, it violently jerks the web, which is attached
to elastic twigs, till at last the whole acquires such a rapid
vibratory movement, that even the outline of the spider’s body becomes
indistinct.
It is well known that most of the British spiders, when a large insect
is caught in their webs, endeavour to cut the lines and liberate their
prey, to save their nets from being entirely spoiled. I once, however,
saw in a hot-house in Shropshire a large female wasp caught in the
irregular web of a quite small spider; and this spider, instead of
cutting the web, most perseveringly continued to entangle the body, and
especially the wings, of its prey. The wasp at first aimed in vain
repeated thrusts with its sting at its little antagonist. Pitying the
wasp, after allowing it to struggle for more than an hour, I killed it
and put it back into the web. The spider soon returned; and an hour
afterwards I was much surprised to find it with its jaws buried in the
orifice through which the sting is protruded by the living wasp. I
drove the spider away two or three times, but for the next twenty-four
hours I always found it again sucking at the same place. The spider
became much distended by the juices of its prey, which was many times
larger than itself.
I may here just mention, that I found, near St. Fé Bajada, many large
black spiders, with ruby-coloured marks on their backs, having
gregarious habits. The webs were placed
vertically, as is invariably the case with the genus Epeira: they were
separated from each other by a space of about two feet, but were all
attached to certain common lines, which were of great length, and
extended to all parts of the community. In this manner the tops of some
large bushes were encompassed by the united nets. Azara[10] has
described a gregarious spider in Paraguay, which Walckanaer thinks must
be a Theridion, but probably it is an Epeira, and perhaps even the same
species with mine. I cannot, however, recollect seeing a central nest
as large as a hat, in which, during autumn, when the spiders die, Azara
says the eggs are deposited. As all the spiders which I saw were of the
same size, they must have been nearly of the same age. This gregarious
habit, in so typical a genus as Epeira, among insects, which are so
bloodthirsty and solitary that even the two sexes attack each other, is
a very singular fact.
[10] Azara’s _Voyage_, vol. 1, p. 213.
In a lofty valley of the Cordillera, near Mendoza, I found another
spider with a singularly-formed web. Strong lines radiated in a
vertical plane from a common centre, where the insect had its station;
but only two of the rays were connected by a symmetrical mesh-work; so
that the net, instead of being, as is generally the case, circular,
consisted of a wedge-shaped segment. All the webs were similarly
constructed.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter III
Monte Video—Maldonado—Excursion to R. Polanco—Lazo and
Bolas—Partridges—Absence of Trees—Deer—Capybara, or River
Hog—Tucutuco—Molothrus, cuckoo-like
habits—Tyrant-flycatcher—Mocking-bird—Carrion Hawks—Tubes formed by
Lightning—House struck.
MALDONADO
_July_ 5_th_, 1832.—In the morning we got under way, and stood out of
the splendid harbour of Rio de Janeiro. In our passage to the Plata, we
saw nothing particular, excepting on one day a great shoal of
porpoises, many hundreds in number. The whole sea was in places
furrowed by them; and a most extraordinary spectacle was presented, as
hundreds, proceeding together by jumps, in which their whole bodies
were exposed, thus cut the water. When the ship was running nine knots
an hour, these animals could cross and recross the bows with the
greatest ease, and then dash away right ahead. As soon as we entered
the estuary of the Plata, the weather was very unsettled. One dark
night we were surrounded by numerous seals and penguins, which made
such strange noises, that the officer on watch reported he could hear
the cattle bellowing on shore. On a second night we witnessed a
splendid scene of natural fireworks; the mast-head and yard-arm ends
shone with St. Elmo’s light; and the form of the vane could almost be
traced, as if it had been rubbed with phosphorus. The sea was so highly
luminous, that the tracks of the penguins were marked by a fiery wake,
and the darkness of the sky was momentarily illuminated by the most
vivid lightning.
When within the mouth of the river, I was interested by observing how
slowly the waters of the sea and river mixed. The latter, muddy and
discoloured, from its less specific gravity, floated on the surface of
the salt water. This was curiously exhibited in the wake of the vessel,
where a line of blue water was seen mingling in little eddies with the
adjoining fluid.
_July_ 26_th_, 1832.—We anchored at Monte Video. The _Beagle_ was
employed in surveying the extreme southern and eastern coasts of
America, south of the Plata, during the two succeeding years. To
prevent useless repetitions, I will extract those parts of my journal
which refer to the same districts, without always attending to the
order in which we visited them.
MALDONADO is situated on the northern bank of the Plata, and not very
far from the mouth of the estuary. It is a most quiet, forlorn, little
town; built, as is universally the case in these countries, with the
streets running at right angles to each other, and having in the middle
a large plaza or square, which, from its size, renders the scantiness
of the population more evident. It possesses scarcely any trade; the
exports being confined to a few hides and living cattle. The
inhabitants are chiefly landowners, together with a few shopkeepers and
the necessary tradesmen, such as blacksmiths and carpenters, who do
nearly all the business for a circuit of fifty miles round. The town is
separated from the river by a band of sand-hillocks, about a mile
broad: it is surrounded on all other sides by an
open slightly-undulating country, covered by one uniform layer of fine
green turf, on which countless herds of cattle, sheep, and horses
graze. There is very little land cultivated even close to the town. A
few hedges made of cacti and agave mark out where some wheat or Indian
corn has been planted. The features of the country are very similar
along the whole northern bank of the Plata. The only difference is,
that here the granitic hills are a little bolder. The scenery is very
uninteresting; there is scarcely a house, an enclosed piece of ground,
or even a tree, to give it an air of cheerfulness. Yet, after being
imprisoned for some time in a ship, there is a charm in the unconfined
feeling of walking over boundless plains of turf. Moreover, if your
view is limited to a small space, many objects possess beauty. Some of
the smaller birds are brilliantly coloured; and the bright green sward,
browsed short by the cattle, is ornamented by dwarf flowers, among
which a plant, looking like the daisy, claimed the place of an old
friend. What would a florist say to whole tracts, so thickly covered by
the Verbena melindres, as, even at a distance, to appear of the most
gaudy scarlet?
I stayed ten weeks at Maldonado, in which time a nearly perfect
collection of the animals, birds, and reptiles, was procured. Before
making any observations respecting them, I will give an account of a
little excursion I made as far as the river Polanco, which is about
seventy miles distant, in a northerly direction. I may mention, as a
proof how cheap everything is in this country, that I paid only two
dollars a day or eight shillings, for two men, together with a troop of
about a dozen riding-horses. My companions were well armed with pistols
and sabres; a precaution which I thought rather unnecessary; but the
first piece of news we heard was, that, the day before, a traveller
from Monte Video had been found dead on the road, with his throat cut.
This happened close to a cross, the record of a former murder.
On the first night we slept at a retired little country-house; and
there I soon found out that I possessed two or three articles,
especially a pocket compass, which created unbounded astonishment. In
every house I was asked to show the compass, and by its aid, together
with a map, to point out the direction
of various places. It excited the liveliest admiration that I, a
perfect stranger, should know the road (for direction and road are
synonymous in this open country) to places where I had never been. At
one house a young woman who was ill in bed, sent to entreat me to come
and show her the compass. If their surprise was great, mine was
greater, to find such ignorance among people who possessed their
thousands of cattle, and “estancias” of great extent. It can only be
accounted for by the circumstance that this retired part of the country
is seldom visited by foreigners. I was asked whether the earth or sun
moved; whether it was hotter or colder to the north; where Spain was,
and many other such questions. The greater number of the inhabitants
had an indistinct idea that England, London, and North America, were
different names for the same place; but the better informed well knew
that London and North America were separate countries close together,
and that England was a large town in London! I carried with me some
promethean matches, which I ignited by biting; it was thought so
wonderful that a man should strike fire with his teeth, that it was
usual to collect the whole family to see it: I was once offered a
dollar for a single one. Washing my face in the morning caused much
speculation at the village of Las Minas; a superior tradesman closely
cross-questioned me about so singular a practice; and likewise why on
board we wore our beards; for he had heard from my guide that we did
so. He eyed me with much suspicion; perhaps he had heard of ablutions
in the Mahomedan religion, and knowing me to be a heretic, probably he
came to the conclusion that all heretics were Turks. It is the general
custom in this country to ask for a night’s lodging at the first
convenient house. The astonishment at the compass, and my other feats
of jugglery, was to a certain degree advantageous, as with that, and
the long stories my guides told of my breaking stones, knowing venomous
from harmless snakes, collecting insects, etc., I repaid them for their
hospitality. I am writing as if I had been among the inhabitants of
Central Africa: Banda Oriental would not be flattered by the
comparison; but such were my feelings at the time.
The next day we rode to the village of Las Minas. The country was
rather more hilly, but otherwise continued the
same; an inhabitant of the Pampas no doubt would have considered it as
truly alpine. The country is so thinly inhabited, that during the whole
day we scarcely met a single person. Las Minas is much smaller even
than Maldonado. It is seated on a little plain, and is surrounded by
low rocky mountains. It is of the usual symmetrical form, and with its
whitewashed church standing in the centre, had rather a pretty
appearance. The outskirting houses rose out of the plain like isolated
beings, without the accompaniment of gardens or courtyards. This is
generally the case in the country, and all the houses have, in
consequence, an uncomfortable aspect. At night we stopped at a
pulperia, or drinking-shop. During the evening a great number of
Gauchos came in to drink spirits and smoke cigars: their appearance is
very striking; they are generally tall and handsome, but with a proud
and dissolute expression of countenance. They frequently wear their
moustaches, and long black hair curling down their backs. With their
brightly coloured garments, great spurs clanking about their heels, and
knives stuck as daggers (and often so used) at their waists, they look
a very different race of men from what might be expected from their
name of Gauchos, or simple countrymen. Their politeness is excessive;
they never drink their spirits without expecting you to taste it; but
whilst making their exceedingly graceful bow, they seem quite as ready,
if occasion offered, to cut your throat.
On the third day we pursued rather an irregular course, as I was
employed in examining some beds of marble. On the fine plains of turf
we saw many ostriches (Struthio rhea). Some of the flocks contained as
many as twenty or thirty birds. These, when standing on any little
eminence, and seen against the clear sky, presented a very noble
appearance. I never met with such tame ostriches in any other part of
the country: it was easy to gallop up within a short distance of them;
but then, expanding their wings, they made all sail right before the
wind, and soon left the horse astern.
At night we came to the house of Don Juan Fuentes, a rich landed
proprietor, but not personally known to either of my companions. On
approaching the house of a stranger, it is usual to follow several
little points of etiquette: riding up slowly to the door, the
salutation of Ave Maria is given, and
until somebody comes out and asks you to alight, it is not customary
even to get off your horse: the formal answer of the owner is, “sin
pecado concebida”—that is, conceived without sin. Having entered the
house, some general conversation is kept up for a few minutes, till
permission is asked to pass the night there. This is granted as a
matter of course. The stranger then takes his meals with the family,
and a room is assigned him, where with the horsecloths belonging to his
recado (or saddle of the Pampas) he makes his bed. It is curious how
similar circumstances produce such similar results in manners. At the
Cape of Good Hope the same hospitality, and very nearly the same points
of etiquette, are universally observed. The difference, however,
between the character of the Spaniard and that of the Dutch boor is
shown, by the former never asking his guest a single question beyond
the strictest rule of politeness, whilst the honest Dutchman demands
where he has been, where he is going, what is his business, and even
how many brothers, sisters, or children he may happen to have.
Shortly after our arrival at Don Juan’s one of the largest herds of
cattle was driven in towards the house, and three beasts were picked
out to be slaughtered for the supply of the establishment. These
half-wild cattle are very active; and knowing full well the fatal lazo,
they led the horses a long and laborious chase. After witnessing the
rude wealth displayed in the number of cattle, men, and horses, Don
Juan’s miserable house was quite curious. The floor consisted of
hardened mud, and the windows were without glass; the sitting-room
boasted only of a few of the roughest chairs and stools, with a couple
of tables. The supper, although several strangers were present,
consisted of two huge piles, one of roast beef, the other of boiled,
with some pieces of pumpkin: besides this latter there was no other
vegetable, and not even a morsel of bread. For drinking, a large
earthenware jug of water served the whole party. Yet this man was the
owner of several square miles of land, of which nearly every acre would
produce corn, and, with a little trouble, all the common vegetables.
The evening was spent in smoking, with a little impromptu singing,
accompanied by the guitar. The signoritas all sat together in one
corner of the room, and did not sup with the men.
[Illustration]
So many works have been written about these countries,
that it is almost superfluous to describe either the lazo or the bolas.
The lazo consists of a very strong, but thin, well-plaited rope, made
of raw hide. One end is attached to the broad surcingle, which fastens
together the complicated gear of the recado, or saddle used in the
Pampas; the other is terminated by a small ring of iron or brass, by
which a noose can be formed. The Gaucho, when he is going to use the
lazo, keeps a small coil in his bridle-hand, and in the other holds the
running noose, which is made very large, generally having a diameter of
about eight feet. This he whirls round his head, and by the dexterous
movement of his wrist keeps the noose open; then, throwing it, he
causes it to fall on any particular spot he chooses. The lazo, when not
used, is tied up in a small coil to the after part of the recado. The
bolas, or balls, are of two kinds: the simplest, which is chiefly used
for catching ostriches, consists of two round stones, covered with
leather, and united by a thin plaited thong, about eight feet long. The
other kind differs only in having three balls united by the thongs to a
common centre. The Gaucho holds the smallest of the three in his hand,
and whirls the other two round and round his head; then, taking aim,
sends them like chain shot revolving through the air. The balls no
sooner strike any object, than, winding round it, they cross each
other, and become firmly hitched. The size and weight of the balls
varies, according to the purpose for which they are made: when of
stone, although not larger than an apple, they are sent with such force
as sometimes to break the leg even of a horse. I have seen the balls
made of wood, and as large as a turnip, for the sake of catching these
animals without injuring them. The balls are sometimes made of iron,
and these can be hurled to
the greatest distance. The main difficulty in using either lazo or
bolas is to ride so well as to be able at full speed, and while
suddenly turning about, to whirl them so steadily round the head, as to
take aim: on foot any person would soon learn the art. One day, as I
was amusing myself by galloping and whirling the balls round my head,
by accident the free one struck a bush, and its revolving motion being
thus destroyed, it immediately fell to the ground, and, like magic
caught one hind leg of my horse; the other ball was then jerked out of
my hand, and the horse fairly secured. Luckily he was an old practised
animal, and knew what it meant; otherwise he would probably have kicked
till he had thrown himself down. The Gauchos roared with laughter; they
cried out that they had seen every sort of animal caught, but had never
before seen a man caught by himself.
During the two succeeding days, I reached the farthest point which I
was anxious to examine. The country wore the same aspect, till at last
the fine green turf became more wearisome than a dusty turnpike road.
We everywhere saw great numbers of partridges (Nothura major). These
birds do not go in coveys, nor do they conceal themselves like the
English kind. It appears a very silly bird. A man on horseback by
riding round and round in a circle, or rather in a spire, so as to
approach closer each time, may knock on the head as many as he pleases.
The more common method is to catch them with a running noose, or little
lazo, made of the stem of an ostrich’s feather, fastened to the end of
a long stick. A boy on a quiet old horse will frequently thus catch
thirty or forty in a day. In Arctic North America[1] the Indians catch
the Varying Hare by walking spirally round and round it, when on its
form: the middle of the day is reckoned the best time, when the sun is
high, and the shadow of the hunter not very long.
[1] Hearne’s _Journey_, p. 383.
On our return to Maldonado, we followed rather a different line of
road. Near Pan de Azucar, a landmark well known to all those who have
sailed up the Plata, I stayed a day at the house of a most hospitable
old Spaniard. Early in the morning we ascended the Sierra de las
Animas. By the aid of the rising sun the scenery was almost
picturesque. To the westward
the view extended over an immense level plain as far as the Mount, at
Monte Video, and to the eastward, over the mammillated country of
Maldonado. On the summit of the mountain there were several small heaps
of stones, which evidently had lain there for many years. My companion
assured me that they were the work of the Indians in the old time. The
heaps were similar, but on a much smaller scale, to those so commonly
found on the mountains of Wales. The desire to signalise any event, on
the highest point of the neighbouring land, seems a universal passion
with mankind. At the present day, not a single Indian, either civilised
or wild, exists in this part of the province; nor am I aware that the
former inhabitants have left behind them any more permanent records
than these insignificant piles on the summit of the Sierra de las
Animas.
The general, and almost entire absence of trees in Banda Oriental is
remarkable. Some of the rocky hills are partly covered by thickets, and
on the banks of the larger streams, especially to the north of Las
Minas, willow-trees are not uncommon. Near the Arroyo Tapes I heard of
a wood of palms; and one of these trees, of considerable size, I saw
near the Pan de Azucar, in lat. 35°. These, and the trees planted by
the Spaniards, offer the only exceptions to the general scarcity of
wood. Among the introduced kinds may be enumerated poplars, olives,
peach, and other fruit trees: the peaches succeed so well, that they
afford the main supply of firewood to the city of Buenos Ayres.
Extremely level countries, such as the Pampas, seldom appear favourable
to the growth of trees. This may possibly be attributed either to the
force of the winds, or the kind of drainage. In the nature of the land,
however, around Maldonado, no such reason is apparent; the rocky
mountains afford protected situations; enjoying various kinds of soil;
streamlets of water are common at the bottoms of nearly every valley;
and the clayey nature of the earth seems adapted to retain moisture. It
has been inferred, with much probability, that the presence of woodland
is generally determined[2] by the annual amount of moisture; yet in
this province abundant and heavy rain falls during the winter; and the
summer, though
dry, is not so in any excessive degree.[3] We see nearly the whole of
Australia covered by lofty trees, yet that country possesses a far more
arid climate. Hence we must look to some other and unknown cause.
[2] Maclaren, article “America,” _Encyclopedia Britannica._
[3] Azara says “Je crois que la quantité annuelle des pluies est, dans
toutes ces contrées, plus considérable qu’en Espagne.”—Vol. i, p. 36.
Confining our view to South America, we should certainly be tempted to
believe that trees flourished only under a very humid climate; for the
limit of the forest-land follows, in a most remarkable manner, that of
the damp winds. In the southern part of the continent, where the
western gales, charged with moisture from the Pacific, prevail, every
island on the broken west coast, from lat. 38° to the extreme point of
Tierra del Fuego, is densely covered by impenetrable forests. On the
eastern side of the Cordillera, over the same extent of latitude, where
a blue sky and a fine climate prove that the atmosphere has been
deprived of its moisture by passing over the mountains, the arid plains
of Patagonia support a most scanty vegetation. In the more northern
parts of the continent, within the limits of the constant south-eastern
trade-wind, the eastern side is ornamented by magnificent forests;
whilst the western coast, from lat. 4° S. to lat. 32° S., may be
described as a desert; on this western coast, northward of lat. 4° S.,
where the trade-wind loses its regularity, and heavy torrents of rain
fall periodically, the shores of the Pacific, so utterly desert in
Peru, assume near Cape Blanco the character of luxuriance so celebrated
at Guayaquil and Panama. Hence in the southern and northern parts of
the continent, the forest and desert lands occupy reversed positions
with respect to the Cordillera, and these positions are apparently
determined by the direction of the prevalent winds. In the middle of
the continent there is a broad intermediate band, including central
Chile and the provinces of La Plata, where the rain-bringing winds have
not to pass over lofty mountains, and where the land is neither a
desert nor covered by forests. But even the rule, if confined to South
America, of trees flourishing only in a climate rendered humid by
rain-bearing winds, has a strongly marked exception in the case of the
Falkland Islands. These islands, situated in the same latitude with
Tierra del Fuego and only between two and three hundred miles distant
from it, having a nearly similar
climate, with a geological formation almost identical, with favourable
situations and the same kind of peaty soil, yet can boast of few plants
deserving even the title of bushes; whilst in Tierra del Fuego it is
impossible to find an acre of land not covered by the densest forest.
In this case, both the direction of the heavy gales of wind and of the
currents of the sea are favourable to the transport of seeds from
Tierra del Fuego, as is shown by the canoes and trunks of trees drifted
from that country, and frequently thrown on the shores of the Western
Falkland. Hence perhaps it is, that there are many plants in common to
the two countries: but with respect to the trees of Tierra del Fuego,
even attempts made to transplant them have failed.
During our stay at Maldonado I collected several quadrupeds, eighty
kinds of birds, and many reptiles, including nine species of snakes. Of
the indigenous mammalia, the only one now left of any size, which is
common, is the Cervus campestris. This deer is exceedingly abundant,
often in small herds, throughout the countries bordering the Plata and
in Northern Patagonia. If a person crawling close along the ground,
slowly advances towards a herd, the deer frequently, out of curiosity,
approach to reconnoitre him. I have by this means, killed from one
spot, three out of the same herd. Although so tame and inquisitive, yet
when approached on horseback, they are exceedingly wary. In this
country nobody goes on foot, and the deer knows man as its enemy only
when he is mounted and armed with the bolas. At Bahia Blanca, a recent
establishment in Northern Patagonia, I was surprised to find how little
the deer cared for the noise of a gun: one day I fired ten times from
within eighty yards at one animal; and it was much more startled at the
ball cutting up the ground than at the report of the rifle. My powder
being exhausted, I was obliged to get up (to my shame as a sportsman be
it spoken, though well able to kill birds on the wing) and halloo till
the deer ran away.
The most curious fact with respect to this animal, is the
overpoweringly strong and offensive odour which proceeds from the buck.
It is quite indescribable: several times whilst skinning the specimen
which is now mounted at the Zoological Museum, I was almost overcome by
nausea. I tied up the
skin in a silk pocket-handkerchief, and so carried it home: this
handkerchief, after being well washed, I continually used, and it was
of course as repeatedly washed; yet every time, for a space of one year
and seven months, when first unfolded, I distinctly perceived the
odour. This appears an astonishing instance of the permanence of some
matter, which nevertheless in its nature must be most subtile and
volatile. Frequently, when passing at the distance of half a mile to
leeward of a herd, I have perceived the whole air tainted with the
effluvium. I believe the smell from the buck is most powerful at the
period when its horns are perfect, or free from the hairy skin. When in
this state the meat is, of course, quite uneatable; but the Gauchos
assert, that if buried for some time in fresh earth, the taint is
removed. I have somewhere read that the islanders in the north of
Scotland treat the rank carcasses of the fish-eating birds in the same
manner.
The order Rodentia is here very numerous in species: of mice alone I
obtained no less than eight kinds.[4] The largest gnawing animal in the
world, the Hydrochærus capybara (the water-hog), is here also common.
One which I shot at Monte Video weighed ninety-eight pounds: its
length, from the end of the snout to the stump-like tail, was three
feet two inches; and its girth three feet eight. These great Rodents
occasionally frequent the islands in the mouth of the Plata, where the
water is quite salt, but are far more abundant on the borders of
fresh-water lakes and rivers. Near Maldonado three or four generally
live together. In the daytime they either lie among the aquatic plants,
or openly feed on the turf plain.[5] When viewed at a distance, from
their manner of walking and colour they resemble pigs: but when seated
on their haunches, and attentively watching any object with one eye,
they reassume the appearance of their congeners, cavies and rabbits.
Both the front and side view of their head has quite a ludicrous
aspect, from the great depth of their jaw. These animals, at Maldonado,
were very tame; by cautiously walking, I approached within three yards
of four old ones. This tameness may probably be accounted for, by the
Jaguar having been banished for some years, and by the Gaucho not
thinking it worth his while to hunt them. As I approached nearer and
nearer they frequently made their peculiar noise, which is a low abrupt
grunt, not having much actual sound, but rather arising from the sudden
expulsion of air: the only noise I know at all like it, is the first
hoarse bark of a large dog. Having watched the four from almost within
arm’s length (and they me) for several minutes, they rushed into the
water at full gallop with the greatest impetuosity, and emitted at the
same time their bark. After diving a short distance they came again to
the surface, but only just showed the upper part of their heads. When
the female is swimming in the water, and has young ones, they are said
to sit on her back. These animals are easily killed in numbers; but
their skins are of trifling value, and the meat is very indifferent. On
the islands in the Rio Parana they are exceedingly abundant, and afford
the ordinary prey to the Jaguar.
[4] In South America I collected altogether twenty-seven species of
mice, and thirteen more are known from the works of Azara and other
authors. Those collected by myself have been named and described by
Mr. Waterhouse at the meetings of the Zoological Society. I must be
allowed to take this opportunity of returning my cordial thanks to Mr.
Waterhouse, and to the other gentleman attached to that Society, for
their kind and most liberal assistance on all occasions.
[5] In the stomach and duodenum of a capybara which I opened, I found
a very large quantity of a thin yellowish fluid, in which scarcely a
fibre could be distinguished. Mr. Owen informs me that a part of the
œsophagus is so constructed that nothing much larger than a crowquill
can be passed down. Certainly the broad teeth and strong jaws of this
animal are well fitted to grind into pulp the aquatic plants on which
it feeds.
The Tucutuco (Ctenomys Brasiliensis) is a curious small animal, which
may be briefly described as a Gnawer, with the habits of a mole. It is
extremely numerous in some parts of the country, but it is difficult to
be procured, and never, I believe, comes out of the ground. It throws
up at the mouth of its burrows hillocks of earth like those of the
mole, but smaller. Considerable tracts of country are so completely
undermined by these animals that horses, in passing over, sink above
their fetlocks. The tucutucos appear, to a certain degree, to be
gregarious: the man who procured the specimens for me had caught six
together, and he said this was a common occurrence. They are nocturnal
in their habits; and their principal food is the roots of plants, which
are the object of their extensive and superficial burrows. This animal
is universally known by a very peculiar noise which it makes when
beneath the ground. A person, the first time he hears it, is much
surprised; for it is not easy to tell whence it comes, nor is it
possible to guess what
kind of creature utters it. The noise consists in a short, but not
rough, nasal grunt, which is monotonously repeated about four times in
quick succession:[6] the name Tucutuco is given in imitation of the
sound. Where this animal is abundant, it may be heard at all times of
the day, and sometimes directly beneath one’s feet. When kept in a
room, the tucutucos move both slowly and clumsily, which appears owing
to the outward action of their hind legs; and they are quite incapable,
from the socket of the thigh-bone not having a certain ligament, of
jumping even the smallest vertical height. They are very stupid in
making any attempt to escape; when angry or frightened they utter the
tucu-tuco. Of those I kept alive, several, even the first day, became
quite tame, not attempting to bite or to run away; others were a little
wilder.
[6] At the R. Negro, in Northern Patagonia, there is an animal of the
same habits, and probably a closely allied species, but which I never
saw. Its noise is different from that of the Maldonado kind; it is
repeated only twice instead of three or four times, and is more
distinct and sonorous: when heard from a distance it so closely
resembles the sound made in cutting down a small tree with an axe,
that I have sometimes remained in doubt concerning it.
The man who caught them asserted that very many are invariably found
blind. A specimen which I preserved in spirits was in this state; Mr.
Reid considers it to be the effect of inflammation in the nictitating
membrane. When the animal was alive I placed my finger within half an
inch of its head, and not the slightest notice was taken: it made its
way, however, about the room nearly as well as the others. Considering
the strictly subterranean habits of the tucu-tuco, the blindness,
though so common, cannot be a very serious evil; yet it appears strange
that any animal should possess an organ frequently subject to be
injured. Lamarck would have been delighted with this fact, had he known
it, when speculating[7] (probably with more truth than usual with him)
on the gradually-_acquired_ blindness of the Aspalax, a Gnawer living
under ground, and of the Proteus, a reptile living in dark caverns
filled with water; in both of which animals the eye is in an almost
rudimentary state, and is covered by a tendinous membrane and skin. In
the common mole the eye is extraordinarily small but perfect, though
many anatomists doubt whether it is connected with the true optic
nerve; its vision must certainly be imperfect, though
probably useful to the animal when it leaves its burrow. In the
tucu-tuco, which I believe never comes to the surface of the ground,
the eye is rather larger, but often rendered blind and useless, though
without apparently causing any inconvenience to the animal; no doubt
Lamarck would have said that the tucu-tuco is now passing into the
state of the Aspalax and Proteus.
[7] _Philosoph. Zoolog._ tome i, p. 242.
Birds of many kinds are extremely abundant on the undulating grassy
plains around Maldonado. There are several species of a family allied
in structure and manners to our Starling: one of these (Molothrus
niger) is remarkable from its habits. Several may often be seen
standing together on the back of a cow or horse; and while perched on a
hedge, pluming themselves in the sun, they sometimes attempt to sing,
or rather to hiss; the noise being very peculiar, resembling that of
bubbles of air passing rapidly from a small orifice under water, so as
to produce an acute sound. According to Azara, this bird, like the
cuckoo, deposits its eggs in other birds’ nests. I was several times
told by the country people that there certainly is some bird having
this habit; and my assistant in collecting, who is a very accurate
person, found a nest of the sparrow of this country (Zonotrichia
matutina), with one egg in it larger than the others, and of a
different colour and shape. In North America there is another species
of Molothrus (M. pecoris), which has a similar cuckoo-like habit, and
which is most closely allied in every respect to the species from the
Plata, even in such trifling peculiarities as standing on the backs of
cattle; it differs only in being a little smaller, and in its plumage
and eggs being of a slightly different shade of colour. This close
agreement in structure and habits, in representative species coming
from opposite quarters of a great continent, always strikes one as
interesting, though of common occurrence.
Mr. Swainson has well remarked,[8] that with the exception of the
Molothrus pecoris, to which must be added the M. niger, the cuckoos are
the only birds which can be called truly parasitical; namely, such as
“fasten themselves, as it were, on another living animal, whose animal
heat brings their young into life, whose food they live upon, and whose
death would
cause theirs during the period of infancy.” It is remarkable that some
of the species, but not all, both of the Cuckoo and Molothrus should
agree in this one strange habit of their parasitical propagation,
whilst opposed to each other in almost every other habit: the
molothrus, like our starling, is eminently sociable, and lives on the
open plains without art or disguise: the cuckoo, as every one knows, is
a singularly shy bird; it frequents the most retired thickets, and
feeds on fruit and caterpillars. In structure also these two genera are
widely removed from each other. Many theories, even phrenological
theories, have been advanced to explain the origin of the cuckoo laying
its eggs in other birds’ nests. M. Prévost alone, I think, has thrown
light by his observations[9] on this puzzle: he finds that the female
cuckoo, which, according to most observers, lays at least from four to
six eggs, must pair with the male each time after laying only one or
two eggs. Now, if the cuckoo was obliged to sit on her own eggs, she
would either have to sit on all together, and therefore leave those
first laid so long, that they probably would become addled; or she
would have to hatch separately each egg or two eggs, as soon as laid:
but as the cuckoo stays a shorter time in this country than any other
migratory bird, she certainly would not have time enough for the
successive hatchings. Hence we can perceive in the fact of the cuckoo
pairing several times, and laying her eggs at intervals, the cause of
her depositing her eggs in other birds’ nests, and leaving them to the
care of foster-parents. I am strongly inclined to believe that this
view is correct, from having been independently led (as we shall
hereafter see) to an analogous conclusion with regard to the South
American ostrich, the females of which are parasitical, if I may so
express it, on each other; each female laying several eggs in the nests
of several other females, and the male ostrich undertaking all the
cares of incubation, like the strange foster-parents with the cuckoo.
[8] _Magazine of Zoology and Botany_, vol. i, p. 217.
[9] Read before the Academy of Sciences in Paris. L’Institut, 1834, p.
418.
I will mention only two other birds, which are very common, and render
themselves prominent from their habits. The Saurophagus sulphuratus is
typical of the great American tribe of tyrant-flycatchers. In its
structure it closely approaches the true shrikes, but in its habits may
be compared to many birds. I have frequently observed it, hunting a
field, hovering over
one spot like a hawk, and then proceeding on to another. When seen thus
suspended in the air, it might very readily at a short distance be
mistaken for one of the Rapacious order; its stoop, however, is very
inferior in force and rapidity to that of a hawk. At other times the
Saurophagus haunts the neighbourhood of water, and there, like a
kingfisher, remaining stationary, it catches any small fish which may
come near the margin. These birds are not unfrequently kept either in
cages or in courtyards, with their wings cut. They soon become tame,
and are very amusing from their cunning odd manners, which were
described to me as being similar to those of the common magpie. Their
flight is undulatory, for the weight of the head and bill appears too
great for the body. In the evening the Saurophagus takes its stand on a
bush, often by the roadside, and continually repeats without change a
shrill and rather agreeable cry, which somewhat resembles articulate
words: the Spaniards say it is like the words “Bien te veo” (I see you
well), and accordingly have given it this name.
A mocking-bird (Mimus orpheus), called by the inhabitants Calandria, is
remarkable, from possessing a song far superior to that of any other
bird in the country: indeed, it is nearly the only bird in South
America which I have observed to take its stand for the purpose of
singing. The song may be compared to that of the Sedge warbler, but is
more powerful; some harsh notes and some very high ones, being mingled
with a pleasant warbling. It is heard only during the spring. At other
times its cry is harsh and far from harmonious. Near Maldonado these
birds were tame and bold; they constantly attended the country houses
in numbers, to pick the meat which was hung up on the posts or walls:
if any other small bird joined the feast, the Calandria soon chased it
away. On the wide uninhabited plains of Patagonia another closely
allied species, O. Patagonica of d’Orbigny, which frequents the valleys
clothed with spiny bushes, is a wilder bird, and has a slightly
different tone of voice. It appears to me a curious circumstance, as
showing the fine shades of difference in habits, that judging from this
latter respect alone, when I first saw this second species, I thought
it was different from the Maldonado kind. Having afterwards procured a
specimen, and comparing the two without particular care, they appeared
so very similar,
that I changed my opinion; but now Mr. Gould says that they are
certainly distinct; a conclusion in conformity with the trifling
difference of habit, of which, however, he was not aware.
The number, tameness, and disgusting habits of the carrion-feeding
hawks of South America make them pre-eminently striking to any one
accustomed only to the birds of Northern Europe. In this list may be
included four species of the Caracara or Polyborus, the Turkey buzzard,
the Gallinazo, and the Condor. The Caracaras are, from their structure,
placed among the eagles: we shall soon see how ill they become so high
a rank. In their habits they well supply the place of our
carrion-crows, magpies, and ravens; a tribe of birds widely distributed
over the rest of the world, but entirely absent in South America. To
begin with the Polyborus Brasiliensis: this is a common bird, and has a
wide geographical range; it is most numerous on the grassy savannahs of
La Plata (where it goes by the name of Carrancha), and is far from
unfrequent throughout the sterile plains of Patagonia. In the desert
between the rivers Negro and Colorado, numbers constantly attend the
line of road to devour the carcasses of the exhausted animals which
chance to perish from fatigue and thirst. Although thus common in these
dry and open countries, and likewise on the arid shores of the Pacific,
it is nevertheless found inhabiting the damp impervious forests of West
Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. The Carranchas, together with the
Chimango, constantly attend in numbers the estancias and
slaughtering-houses. If an animal dies on the plain the Gallinazo
commences the feast, and then the two species of Polyborus pick the
bones clean. These birds, although thus commonly feeding together, are
far from being friends. When the Carrancha is quietly seated on the
branch of a tree or on the ground, the Chimango often continues for a
long time flying backwards and forwards, up and down, in a semicircle,
trying each time at the bottom of the curve to strike its larger
relative. The Carrancha takes little notice, except by bobbing its
head. Although the Carranchas frequently assemble in numbers, they are
not gregarious; for in desert places they may be seen solitary, or more
commonly by pairs.
The Carranchas are said to be very crafty, and to steal great
numbers of eggs. They attempt, also, together with the Chimango, to
pick off the scabs from the sore backs of horses and mules. The poor
animal, on the one hand, with its ears down and its back arched; and,
on the other, the hovering bird, eyeing at the distance of a yard the
disgusting morsel, form a picture, which has been described by Captain
Head with his own peculiar spirit and accuracy. These false eagles most
rarely kill any living bird or animal; and their vulture-like,
necrophagous habits are very evident to any one who has fallen asleep
on the desolate plains of Patagonia, for when he wakes, he will see, on
each surrounding hillock, one of these birds patiently watching him
with an evil eye: it is a feature in the landscape of these countries,
which will be recognised by every one who has wandered over them. If a
party of men go out hunting with dogs and horses, they will be
accompanied, during the day, by several of these attendants. After
feeding, the uncovered craw protrudes; at such times, and indeed
generally, the Carrancha is an inactive, tame, and cowardly bird. Its
flight is heavy and slow, like that of an English rook. It seldom
soars; but I have twice seen one at a great height gliding through the
air with much ease. It runs (in contradistinction to hopping), but not
quite so quickly as some of its congeners. At times the Carrancha is
noisy, but is not generally so: its cry is loud, very harsh and
peculiar, and may be likened to the sound of the Spanish guttural _g_,
followed by a rough double _r r_; when uttering this cry it elevates
its head higher and higher, till at last, with its beak wide open, the
crown almost touches the lower part of the back. This fact, which has
been doubted, is quite true; I have seen them several times with their
heads backwards in a completely inverted position. To these
observations I may add, on the high authority of Azara, that the
Carrancha feeds on worms, shells, slugs, grasshoppers, and frogs; that
it destroys young lambs by tearing the umbilical cord; and that it
pursues the Gallinazo, till that bird is compelled to vomit up the
carrion it may have recently gorged. Lastly, Azara states that several
Carranchas, five or six together, will unite in chase of large birds,
even such as herons. All these facts show that it is a bird of very
versatile habits and considerable ingenuity.
The Polyborus Chimango is considerably smaller than the
last species. It is truly omnivorous, and will eat even bread; and I
was assured that it materially injures the potato-crops in Chiloe, by
stocking up the roots when first planted. Of all the carrion-feeders it
is generally the last which leaves the skeleton of a dead animal, and
may often be seen within the ribs of a cow or horse, like a bird in a
cage. Another species is the Polyborus Novæ Zelandiæ, which is
exceedingly common in the Falkland Islands. These birds in many
respects resemble in their habits the Carranchas. They live on the
flesh of dead animals and on marine productions; and on the Ramirez
rocks their whole sustenance must depend on the sea. They are
extraordinarily tame and fearless, and haunt the neighbourhood of
houses for offal. If a hunting party kills an animal, a number soon
collect and patiently await, standing on the ground on all sides. After
eating, their uncovered craws are largely protruded, giving them a
disgusting appearance. They readily attack wounded birds: a cormorant
in this state having taken to the shore, was immediately seized on by
several, and its death hastened by their blows. The _Beagle_ was at the
Falklands only during the summer, but the officers of the _ Adventure_,
who were there in the winter, mention many extraordinary instances of
the boldness and rapacity of these birds. They actually pounced on a
dog that was lying fast asleep close by one of the party; and the
sportsmen had difficulty in preventing the wounded geese from being
seized before their eyes. It is said that several together (in this
respect resembling the Carranchas) wait at the mouth of a rabbit-hole,
and together seize on the animal when it comes out. They were
constantly flying on board the vessel when in the harbour; and it was
necessary to keep a good look-out to prevent the leather being torn
from the rigging, and the meat or game from the stern. These birds are
very mischievous and inquisitive; they will pick up almost anything
from the ground; a large black glazed hat was carried nearly a mile, as
was a pair of the heavy balls used in catching cattle. Mr. Usborne
experienced during the survey a more severe loss, in their stealing a
small Kater’s compass in a red morocco leather case, which was never
recovered. These birds are, moreover, quarrelsome and very passionate;
tearing up the grass with their bills from rage. They are not truly
gregarious; they do not soar, and their
flight is heavy and clumsy; on the ground they run extremely fast, very
much like pheasants. They are noisy, uttering several harsh cries, one
of which is like that of the English rook, hence the sealers always
call them rooks. It is a curious circumstance that, when crying out,
they throw their heads upwards and backwards, after the same manner as
the Carrancha. They build in the rocky cliffs of the sea-coast, but
only on the small adjoining islets, and not on the two main islands:
this is a singular precaution in so tame and fearless a bird. The
sealers say that the flesh of these birds, when cooked, is quite white,
and very good eating; but bold must the man be who attempts such a
meal.
We have now only to mention the turkey-buzzard (Vultur aura), and the
Gallinazo. The former is found wherever the country is moderately damp,
from Cape Horn to North America. Differently from the Polyborus
Brasiliensis and Chimango, it has found its way to the Falkland
Islands. The turkey-buzzard is a solitary bird, or at most goes in
pairs. It may at once be recognised from a long distance, by its lofty,
soaring, and most elegant flight. It is well known to be a true
carrion-feeder. On the west coast of Patagonia, among the
thickly-wooded islets and broken land, it lives exclusively on what the
sea throws up, and on the carcasses of dead seals. Wherever these
animals are congregated on the rocks, there the vultures may be seen.
The Gallinazo (Cathartes atratus) has a different range from the last
species, as it never occurs southward of lat. 41°. Azara states that
there exists a tradition that these birds, at the time of the conquest,
were not found near Monte Video, but that they subsequently followed
the inhabitants from more northern districts. At the present day they
are numerous in the valley of the Colorado, which is three hundred
miles due south of Monte Video. It seems probable that this additional
migration has happened since the time of Azara. The Gallinazo generally
prefers a humid climate, or rather the neighbourhood of fresh water;
hence it is extremely abundant in Brazil and La Plata, while it is
never found on the desert and arid plains of Northern Patagonia,
excepting near some stream. These birds frequent the whole Pampas to
the foot of the Cordillera, but I never saw or heard of one in Chile:
in Peru they are preserved as scavengers. These vultures certainly may
be called gregarious, for
they seem to have pleasure in society, and are not solely brought
together by the attraction of a common prey. On a fine day a flock may
often be observed at a great height, each bird wheeling round and round
without closing its wings, in the most graceful evolutions. This is
clearly performed for the mere pleasure of the exercise, or perhaps is
connected with their matrimonial alliances.
I have now mentioned all the carrion-feeders, excepting the condor, an
account of which will be more appropriately introduced when we visit a
country more congenial to its habits than the plains of La Plata.
In a broad band of sand-hillocks which separate the Laguna del Potrero
from the shores of the Plata, at the distance of a few miles from
Maldonado, I found a group of those vitrified, siliceous tubes, which
are formed by lightning entering loose sand. These tubes resemble in
every particular those from Drigg in Cumberland, described in the
_Geological Transactions._[10] The sand-hillocks of Maldonado, not
being protected by vegetation, are constantly changing their position.
From this cause the tubes projected above the surface; and numerous
fragments lying near, showed that they had formerly been buried to a
greater depth. Four sets entered the sand perpendicularly: by working
with my hands I traced one of them two feet deep; and some fragments
which evidently had belonged to the same tube, when added to the other
part, measured five feet three inches. The diameter of the whole tube
was nearly equal, and therefore we must suppose that originally it
extended to a much greater depth. These dimensions are however small,
compared to those of the tubes from Drigg, one of which was traced to a
depth of not less than thirty feet.
[10] _Geological Transactions_, vol. ii, p. 528. In the _Philosophical
Transactions_, 1790, p. 294, Dr. Priestley has described some
imperfect siliceous tubes and a melted pebble of quartz, found in
digging into the ground, under a tree, where a man had been killed by
lightning.
The internal surface is completely vitrified, glossy, and smooth. A
small fragment examined under the microscope appeared, from the number
of minute entangled air or perhaps steam bubbles, like an assay fused
before the blowpipe. The sand is entirely, or in greater part,
siliceous; but some points
are of a black colour, and from their glossy surface possess a metallic
lustre. The thickness of the wall of the tube varies from a thirtieth
to a twentieth of an inch, and occasionally even equals a tenth. On the
outside the grains of sand are rounded, and have a slightly glazed
appearance: I could not distinguish any signs of crystallisation. In a
similar manner to that described in the _ Geological Transactions_, the
tubes are generally compressed, and have deep longitudinal furrows, so
as closely to resemble a shrivelled vegetable stalk, or the bark of the
elm or cork tree. Their circumference is about two inches, but in some
fragments, which are cylindrical and without any furrows, it is as much
as four inches. The compression from the surrounding loose sand, acting
while the tube was still softened from the effects of the intense heat,
has evidently caused the creases or furrows. Judging from the
uncompressed fragments, the measure or bore of the lightning (if such a
term may be used) must have been about one inch and a quarter. At
Paris, M. Hachette and M. Beudant[11] succeeded in making tubes, in
most respects similar to these fulgurites, by passing very strong
shocks of galvanism through finely-powdered glass: when salt was added,
so as to increase its fusibility, the tubes were larger in every
dimension. They failed both with powdered feldspar and quartz. One
tube, formed with pounded glass, was very nearly an inch long, namely
.982, and had an internal diameter of .019 of an inch. When we hear
that the strongest battery in Paris was used, and that its power on a
substance of such easy fusibility as glass was to form tubes so
diminutive, we must feel greatly astonished at the force of a shock of
lightning, which, striking the sand in several places, has formed
cylinders, in one instance of at least thirty feet long, and having an
internal bore, where not compressed, of full an inch and a half; and
this in a material so extraordinarily refractory as quartz!
[11] _Annales de Chimie et de Physique_, tome xxxvii, p. 319.
The tubes, as I have already remarked, enter the sand nearly in a
vertical direction. One, however, which was less regular than the
others, deviated from a right line, at the most considerable bend, to
the amount of thirty-three degrees. From this same tube, two small
branches, about a foot apart, were sent off; one pointed downwards, and
the other upwards. This
latter case is remarkable, as the electric fluid must have turned back
at the acute angle of 26°, to the line of its main course. Besides the
four tubes which I found vertical, and traced beneath the surface,
there were several other groups of fragments, the original sites of
which without doubt were near. All occurred in a level area of shifting
sand, sixty yards by twenty, situated among some high sand-hillocks,
and at the distance of about half a mile from a chain of hills four or
five hundred feet in height. The most remarkable circumstance, as it
appears to me, in this case as well as in that of Drigg, and in one
described by M. Ribbentrop in Germany, is the number of tubes found
within such limited spaces. At Drigg, within an area of fifteen yards,
three were observed, and the same number occurred in Germany. In the
case which I have described, certainly more than four existed within
the space of the sixty by twenty yards. As it does not appear probable
that the tubes are produced by successive distinct shocks, we must
believe that the lightning, shortly before entering the ground, divides
itself into separate branches.
The neighbourhood of the Rio Plata seems peculiarly subject to electric
phenomena. In the year 1793,[12] one of the most destructive
thunderstorms perhaps on record happened at Buenos Ayres: thirty-seven
places within the city were struck by lightning, and nineteen people
killed. From facts stated in several books of travels, I am inclined to
suspect that thunderstorms are very common near the mouths of great
rivers. Is it not possible that the mixture of large bodies of fresh
and salt water may disturb the electrical equilibrium? Even during our
occasional visits to this part of South America, we heard of a ship,
two churches, and a house having been struck. Both the church and the
house I saw shortly afterwards: the house belonged to Mr. Hood, the
consul-general at Monte Video. Some of the effects were curious: the
paper, for nearly a foot on each side of the line where the bell-wires
had run, was blackened. The metal had been fused, and although the room
was about fifteen feet high, the globules, dropping on the chairs and
furniture, had drilled in them a chain of minute holes. A part of the
wall was shattered as if by gunpowder, and the fragments had been blown
off with force sufficient to dent the wall on the
opposite side of the room. The frame of a looking-glass was blackened,
and the gilding must have been volatilised, for a smelling-bottle,
which stood on the chimney-piece, was coated with bright metallic
particles, which adhered as firmly as if they had been enamelled.
[12] Azara’s _Voyage_, vol. i, p. 36.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter IV
Rio Negro—Estancias attacked by the Indians—Salt Lakes—Flamingoes—R.
Negro to R. Colorado—Sacred Tree—Patagonian Hare—Indian
Families—General Rosas—Proceed to Bahia Blanca—Sand Dunes—Negro
Lieutenant—Bahia Blanca—Saline Incrustations—Punta Alta—Zorillo.
RIO NEGRO TO BAHIA BLANCA.
_July_ 24_th_, 1833.—The _Beagle_ sailed from Maldonado, and on August
the 3rd she arrived off the mouth of the Rio Negro. This is the
principal river on the whole line of coast between the Strait of
Magellan and the Plata. It enters the sea about three hundred miles
south of the estuary of the Plata. About fifty years ago, under the old
Spanish government, a small colony was established here; and it is
still the most southern position (lat. 41°) on this eastern coast of
America inhabited by civilised man.
The country near the mouth of the river is wretched in the extreme: on
the south side a long line of perpendicular cliffs commences, which
exposes a section of the geological nature of the country. The strata
are of sandstone, and one layer was remarkable from being composed of a
firmly-cemented conglomerate of pumice pebbles, which must have
travelled more than four hundred miles, from the Andes. The surface is
everywhere covered up by a thick bed of gravel, which extends far and
wide over the open plain. Water is extremely scarce, and, where found,
is almost invariably brackish. The vegetation is scanty; and although
there are bushes of many kinds, all are armed with formidable thorns,
which seem to warn the stranger not to enter on these inhospitable
regions.
The settlement is situated eighteen miles up the river. The road
follows the foot of the sloping cliff, which forms the northern
boundary of the great valley in which the Rio Negro flows. On the way
we passed the ruins of some fine estancias, which a few years since had
been destroyed by the Indians. They withstood several attacks. A man
present at one gave me a very lively description of what took place.
The inhabitants had sufficient notice to drive all the cattle and
horses into the “corral”[1] which surrounded the house, and likewise to
mount some small cannon.
[1] The corral is an enclosure made of tall and strong stakes. Every
estancia, or farming estate, has one attached to it.
The Indians were Araucanians from the south of Chile; several hundreds
in number, and highly disciplined. They first appeared in two bodies on
a neighbouring hill; having there dismounted, and taken off their fur
mantles, they advanced naked to the charge. The only weapon of an
Indian is a very long bamboo or chuzo, ornamented with ostrich
feathers, and pointed by a sharp spear-head. My informer seemed to
remember with the greatest horror the quivering of these chuzos as they
approached near. When close, the cacique Pincheira hailed the besieged
to give up their arms, or he would cut all their throats. As this would
probably have been the result of their entrance under any
circumstances, the answer was given by a volley of musketry. The
Indians, with great steadiness, came to the very fence of the corral:
but to their surprise they found the posts fastened
together by iron nails instead of leather thongs, and, of course, in
vain attempted to cut them with their knives. This saved the lives of
the Christians: many of the wounded Indians were carried away by their
companions, and at last, one of the under caciques being wounded, the
bugle sounded a retreat. They retired to their horses, and seemed to
hold a council of war. This was an awful pause for the Spaniards, as
all their ammunition, with the exception of a few cartridges, was
expended. In an instant the Indians mounted their horses, and galloped
out of sight. Another attack was still more quickly repulsed. A cool
Frenchman managed the gun; he stopped till the Indians approached
close, and then raked their line with grape-shot: he thus laid
thirty-nine of them on the ground; and, of course, such a blow
immediately routed the whole party.
The town is indifferently called El Carmen or Patagones. It is built on
the face of a cliff which fronts the river, and many of the houses are
excavated even in the sandstone. The river is about two or three
hundred yards wide, and is deep and rapid. The many islands, with their
willow-trees, and the flat headlands, seen one behind the other on the
northern boundary of the broad green valley, form, by the aid of a
bright sun, a view almost picturesque. The number of inhabitants does
not exceed a few hundreds. These Spanish colonies do not, like our
British ones, carry within themselves the elements of growth. Many
Indians of pure blood reside here: the tribe of the Cacique Lucanee
constantly have their Toldos[2] on the outskirts of the town. The local
government partly supplies them with provisions, by giving them all the
old worn-out horses, and they earn a little by making horse-rugs and
other articles of riding-gear. These Indians are considered civilised;
but what their character may have gained by a lesser degree of
ferocity, is almost counterbalanced by their entire immorality. Some of
the younger men are, however, improving; they are willing to labour,
and a short time since a party went on a sealing-voyage, and behaved
very well. They were now enjoying the fruits of their labour, by being
dressed in very gay, clean clothes, and by being very idle. The taste
they showed in their dress was admirable; if you could have turned one
of these young
Indians into a statue of bronze, his drapery would have been perfectly
graceful.
[2] The hovels of the Indians are thus called.
One day I rode to a large salt-lake, or Salina, which is distant
fifteen miles from the town. During the winter it consists of a shallow
lake of brine, which in summer is converted into a field of snow-white
salt. The layer near the margin is from four to five inches thick, but
towards the centre its thickness increases. This lake was two and a
half miles long, and one broad. Others occur in the neighbourhood many
times larger, and with a floor of salt, two and three feet in
thickness, even when under water during the winter. One of these
brilliantly white and level expanses, in the midst of the brown and
desolate plain, offers an extraordinary spectacle. A large quantity of
salt is annually drawn from the salina: and great piles, some hundred
tons in weight, were lying ready for exportation.
The season for working the salinas forms the harvest of Patagones; for
on it the prosperity of the place depends. Nearly the whole population
encamps on the bank of the river, and the people are employed in
drawing out the salt in bullock-waggons. This salt is crystallised in
great cubes, and is remarkably pure: Mr. Trenham Reeks has kindly
analysed some for me, and he finds in it only 0.26 of gypsum and 0.22
of earthy matter. It is a singular fact that it does not serve so well
for preserving meat as sea-salt from the Cape de Verd islands; and a
merchant at Buenos Ayres told me that he considered it as fifty per
cent less valuable. Hence the Cape de Verd salt is constantly imported,
and is mixed with that from these salinas. The purity of the Patagonian
salt, or absence from it of those other saline bodies found in all
sea-water, is the only assignable cause for this inferiority: a
conclusion which no one, I think, would have suspected, but which is
supported by the fact lately ascertained,[3] that those salts answer
best for preserving cheese which contain most of the deliquescent
chlorides.
[3] Report of the Agricultural Chemistry Association in the
_Agricultural Gazette_, 1845, p. 93.
The border of the lake is formed of mud: and in this numerous large
crystals of gypsum, some of which are three inches long, lie embedded;
whilst on the surface others of sulphate of soda lie scattered about.
The Gauchos call the former
the “Padre del sal,” and the latter the “Madre;” they state that these
progenitive salts always occur on the borders of the salinas, when the
water begins to evaporate. The mud is black, and has a fetid odour. I
could not at first imagine the cause of this, but I afterwards
perceived that the froth which the wind drifted on shore was coloured
green, as if by confervæ; I attempted to carry home some of this green
matter, but from an accident failed. Parts of the lake seen from a
short distance appeared of a reddish colour, and this perhaps was owing
to some infusorial animalcula. The mud in many places was thrown up by
numbers of some kind of worm, or annelidous animal. How surprising it
is that any creatures should be able to exist in brine, and that they
should be crawling among crystals of sulphate of soda and lime! And
what becomes of these worms when, during the long summer, the surface
is hardened into a solid layer of salt?
Flamingoes in considerable numbers inhabit this lake, and breed here,
throughout Patagonia, in Northern Chile, and at the Galapagos Islands,
I met with these birds wherever there were lakes of brine. I saw them
here wading about in search of food—probably for the worms which burrow
in the mud; and these latter probably feed on infusoria or confervæ.
Thus we have a little living world within itself, adapted to these
inland lakes of brine. A minute crustaceous animal (Cancer salinus) is
said[4] to live in countless numbers in the brine-pans at Lymington:
but only in those in which the fluid has attained, from evaporation,
considerable strength—namely, about a quarter of a pound of salt to a
pint of water. Well may we affirm that every part of the world is
habitable! Whether lakes of brine, or those subterranean ones hidden
beneath volcanic mountains—warm mineral springs—the wide expanse and
depths of the ocean—the
upper regions of the atmosphere, and even the surface of perpetual
snow—all support organic beings.
[4] _Linnæan Transactions_, vol. xi, p. 205. It is remarkable how all
the circumstances connected with the salt-lakes in Siberia and
Patagonia are similar. Siberia, like Patagonia, appears to have been
recently elevated above the waters of the sea. In both countries the
salt-lakes occupy shallow depressions in the plains; in both the mud
on the borders is black and fetid; beneath the crust of common salt,
sulphate of soda or of magnesia occurs, imperfectly crystallised; and
in both, the muddy sand is mixed with lentils of gypsum. The Siberian
salt-lakes are inhabited by small crustaceous animals; and flamingoes
(_Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal_, Jan. 1830) likewise frequent
them. As these circumstances, apparently so trifling, occur in two
distant continents, we may feel sure that they are the necessary
results of common causes.—See _Pallas’s Travels_, 1793 to 1794, pp.
129 to 134.
To the northward of the Rio Negro, between it and the inhabited country
near Buenos Ayres, the Spaniards have only one small settlement,
recently established at Bahia Blanca. The distance in a straight line
to Buenos Ayres is very nearly five hundred British miles. The
wandering tribes of horse Indians, which have always occupied the
greater part of this country, having of late much harassed the outlying
estancias, the government at Buenos Ayres equipped some time since an
army under the command of General Rosas for the purpose of
exterminating them. The troops were now encamped on the banks of the
Colorado; a river lying about eighty miles northward of the Rio Negro.
When General Rosas left Buenos Ayres he struck in a direct line across
the unexplored plains: and as the country was thus pretty well cleared
of Indians, he left behind him, at wide intervals, a small party of
soldiers with a troop of horses (_a posta_), so as to be enabled to
keep up a communication with the capital. As the _Beagle_ intended to
call at Bahia Blanca, I determined to proceed there by land; and
ultimately I extended my plan to travel the whole way by the postas to
Buenos Ayres.
_August_ 11_th_, 1833.—Mr. Harris, an Englishman residing at Patagones,
a guide, and five Gauchos who were proceeding to the army on business,
were my companions on the journey. The Colorado, as I have already
said, is nearly eighty miles distant: and as we travelled slowly, we
were two days and a half on the road. The whole line of country
deserves scarcely a better name than that of a desert. Water is found
only in two small wells; it is called fresh; but even at this time of
the year, during the rainy season, it was quite brackish. In the summer
this must be a distressing passage; for now it was sufficiently
desolate.
The valley of the Rio Negro, broad as it is, has merely been excavated
out of the sandstone plain; for immediately above the bank on which the
town stands, a level country commences, which is interrupted only by a
few trifling valleys and depressions. Everywhere the landscape wears
the same sterile aspect; a dry gravelly soil supports tufts of
brown withered grass, and low scattered bushes, armed with thorns.
Shortly after passing the first spring we came in sight of a famous
tree, which the Indians reverence as the altar of Walleechu. It is
situated on a high part of the plain; and hence is a landmark visible
at a great distance. As soon as a tribe of Indians come in sight of it,
they offer their adorations by loud shouts. The tree itself is low,
much branched, and thorny: just above the root it has a diameter of
about three feet. It stands by itself without any neighbour, and was
indeed the first tree we saw; afterwards we met with a few others of
the same kind, but they were far from common. Being winter the tree had
no leaves, but in their place numberless threads, by which the various
offerings, such as cigars, bread, meat, pieces of cloth, etc., had been
suspended. Poor Indians, not having anything better, only pull a thread
out of their ponchos, and fasten it to the tree. Richer Indians are
accustomed to pour spirits and maté into a certain hole, and likewise
to smoke upwards, thinking thus to afford all possible gratification to
Walleechu. To complete the scene, the tree was surrounded by the
bleached bones of horses which had been slaughtered as sacrifices. All
Indians of every age and sex make their offerings; they then think that
their horses will not tire, and that they themselves shall be
prosperous. The Gaucho who told me this, said that in the time of peace
he had witnessed this scene, and that he and others used to wait till
the Indians had passed by, for the sake of stealing from Walleechu the
offerings.
The Gauchos think that the Indians consider the tree as the god itself;
but it seems far more probable that they regard it as the altar. The
only cause which I can imagine for this choice, is its being a landmark
in a dangerous passage. The Sierra de la Ventana is visible at an
immense distance; and a Gaucho told me that he was once riding with an
Indian a few miles to the north of the Rio Colorado, when the Indian
commenced making the same loud noise, which is usual at the first sight
of the distant tree, putting his hand to his head, and then pointing in
the direction of the Sierra. Upon being asked the reason of this, the
Indian said in broken Spanish, “First see the Sierra.”
About two leagues beyond this curious tree we halted for the night: at
this instant an unfortunate cow was spied by the lynx-eyed Gauchos, who
set off in full chase, and in a few minutes dragged her in with their
lazos, and slaughtered her. We here had the four necessaries of life
“en el campo,”—pasture for the horses, water (only a muddy puddle),
meat and firewood. The Gauchos were in high spirits at finding all
these luxuries; and we soon set to work at the poor cow. This was the
first night which I passed under the open sky, with the gear of the
recado for my bed. There is high enjoyment in the independence of the
Gaucho life—to be able at any moment to pull up your horse, and say,
“Here we will pass the night.” The deathlike stillness of the plain,
the dogs keeping watch, the gipsy-group of Gauchos making their beds
round the fire, have left in my mind a strongly-marked picture of this
first night, which will never be forgotten.
The next day the country continued similar to that above described. It
is inhabited by few birds or animals of any kind. Occasionally a deer,
or a Guanaco (wild Llama) may be seen; but the Agouti (Cavia
Patagonica) is the commonest quadruped. This animal here represents our
hares. It differs, however, from that genus in many essential respects;
for instance, it has only three toes behind. It is also nearly twice
the size, weighing from twenty to twenty-five pounds. The Agouti is a
true friend of the desert; it is a common feature of the landscape to
see two or three hopping quickly one after the other in a straight line
across these wild plains. They are found as far north as the Sierra
Tapalguen (lat. 37° 30′), where the plain rather suddenly becomes
greener and more humid; and their southern limit is between Port Desire
and St. Julian, where there is no change in the nature of the country.
It is a singular fact, that although the Agouti is not now found as far
south as Port St. Julian, yet that Captain Wood, in his voyage in 1670,
talks of them as being numerous there. What cause can have altered, in
a wide, uninhabited, and rarely-visited country, the range of an animal
like this? It appears also, from the number shot by Captain Wood in one
day at Port Desire, that they must have been considerably more abundant
there formerly than at present. Where the Bizcacha lives and makes its
burrows, the Agouti uses them;
but where, as at Bahia Blanca, the Bizcacha is not found, the Agouti
burrows for itself. The same thing occurs with the little owl of the
Pampas (Athene cunicularia), which has so often been described as
standing like a sentinel at the mouth of the burrows; for in Banda
Oriental, owing to the absence of the Bizcacha, it is obliged to hollow
out its own habitation.
The next morning, as we approached the Rio Colorado, the appearance of
the country changed; we soon came on a plain covered with turf, which,
from its flowers, tall clover, and little owls, resembled the Pampas.
We passed also a muddy swamp of considerable extent, which in summer
dries, and becomes incrusted with various salts; and hence is called a
salitral. It was covered by low succulent plants, of the same kind with
those growing on the sea-shore. The Colorado, at the pass where we
crossed it, is only about sixty yards wide; generally it must be nearly
double that width. Its course is very tortuous, being marked by
willow-trees and beds of reeds: in a direct line the distance to the
mouth of the river is said to be nine leagues, but by water
twenty-five. We were delayed crossing in the canoe by some immense
troops of mares, which were swimming the river in order to follow a
division of troops into the interior. A more ludicrous spectacle I
never beheld than the hundreds and hundreds of heads, all directed one
way, with pointed ears and distended snorting nostrils, appearing just
above the water like a great shoal of some amphibious animal. Mare’s
flesh is the only food which the soldiers have when on an expedition.
This gives them a great facility of movement; for the distance to which
horses can be driven over these plains is quite surprising: I have been
assured that an unloaded horse can travel a hundred miles a day for
many days successively.
The encampment of General Rosas was close to the river. It consisted of
a square formed by waggons, artillery, straw huts, etc. The soldiers
were nearly all cavalry; and I should think such a villainous,
banditti-like army was never before collected together. The greater
number of men were of a mixed breed, between Negro, Indian, and
Spaniard. I know not the reason, but men of such origin seldom have a
good expression of countenance. I called on the Secretary
to show my passport. He began to cross-question me in the most
dignified and mysterious manner. By good luck I had a letter of
recommendation from the government of Buenos Ayres[5] to the commandant
of Patagones. This was taken to General Rosas, who sent me a very
obliging message; and the Secretary returned all smiles and
graciousness. We took up our residence in the _rancho_, or hovel, of a
curious old Spaniard, who had served with Napoleon in the expedition
against Russia.
[5] I am bound to express, in the strongest terms, my obligation to
the government of Buenos Ayres for the obliging manner in which
passports to all parts of the country were given me, as naturalist of
the _Beagle._
We stayed two days at the Colorado; I had little to do, for the
surrounding country was a swamp, which in summer (December), when the
snow melts on the Cordillera, is overflowed by the river. My chief
amusement was watching the Indian families as they came to buy little
articles at the rancho where we stayed. It was supposed that General
Rosas had about six hundred Indian allies. The men were a tall, fine
race, yet it was afterwards easy to see in the Fuegian savage the same
countenance rendered hideous by cold, want of food, and less
civilisation.
[Illustration]
Some authors, in defining the primary races of mankind, have separated
these Indians into two classes; but this is certainly incorrect. Among
the young women or chinas, some deserve to be called even beautiful.
Their hair was coarse, but bright and black; and they wore it in two
plaits hanging down to the waist. They had a high colour, and eyes that
glistened with brilliancy; their legs, feet, and arms were small and
elegantly formed; their ankles, and sometimes their waists, were
ornamented by broad bracelets of blue beads. Nothing could be more
interesting than some of the family groups. A mother with one or two
daughters would often come to our rancho, mounted on the same horse.
They ride like men, but with their knees tucked up much higher. This
habit, perhaps, arises from their being accustomed, when travelling, to
ride the loaded horses. The duty of the women is to load and unload the
horses; to make the tents for the night; in short to be, like the wives
of all savages, useful slaves. The men fight, hunt, take care of the
horses, and
make the riding gear. One of their chief indoor occupations is to knock
two stones together till they become round, in order to make the bolas.
With this important weapon the Indian catches his game, and also his
horse, which roams free over the plain. In fighting, his first attempt
is to throw down the horse of his adversary with the bolas, and when
entangled by the fall to kill him with the chuzo. If the balls only
catch the neck or body of an animal, they are often carried away and
lost. As the making the stones round is the labour of two days, the
manufacture of the balls is a very common employment. Several of the
men and women had their faces painted red, but I never saw the
horizontal bands which are so common among the Fuegians. Their chief
pride consists in having everything made of silver; I have seen a
cacique with his spurs, stirrups, handle of his knife, and bridle made
of this metal: the head-stall and reins being of wire, were not thicker
than whipcord; and to see a fiery steed wheeling about under the
command of so light a chain, gave to the horsemanship a remarkable
character of elegance.
[Illustration]
General Rosas intimated a wish to see me; a circumstance which I was
afterwards very glad of. He is a man of an extraordinary character, and
has a most predominant influence in the country, which it seems
probable he will use
to its prosperity and advancement.[6] He is said to be the owner of
seventy-four square leagues of land, and to have about three hundred
thousand head of cattle. His estates are admirably managed, and are far
more productive of corn than those of others. He first gained his
celebrity by his laws for his own estancias, and by disciplining
several hundred men, so as to resist with success the attacks of the
Indians. There are many stories current about the rigid manner in which
his laws were enforced. One of these was, that no man, on penalty of
being put into the stocks, should carry his knife on a Sunday: this
being the principal day for gambling and drinking, many quarrels arose,
which from the general manner of fighting with the knife often proved
fatal.
[6] This prophecy has turned out entirely and miserably wrong. 1845.
One Sunday the Governor came in great form to pay the estancia a visit,
and General Rosas, in his hurry, walked out to receive him with his
knife, as usual, stuck in his belt. The steward touched his arm, and
reminded him of the law; upon which turning to the Governor, he said he
was extremely sorry, but that he must go into the stocks, and that till
let out, he possessed no power even in his own house. After a little
time the steward was persuaded to open the stocks, and to let him out,
but no sooner was this done, than he turned to the steward and said,
“You now have broken the laws, so you must take my place in the
stocks.” Such actions as these delighted the Gauchos, who all possess
high notions of their own equality and dignity.
General Rosas is also a perfect horseman—an accomplishment of no small
consequence in a country where an assembled army elected its general by
the following trial: A troop of unbroken horses being driven into a
corral, were let out through a gateway, above which was a cross-bar: it
was agreed whoever should drop from the bar on one of these wild
animals, as it rushed out, and should be able, without saddle or
bridle, not only to ride it, but also to bring it back to the door of
the corral, should be their general. The person who succeeded was
accordingly elected; and doubtless made a fit general for such an army.
This extraordinary feat has also been performed by Rosas.
By these means, and by conforming to the dress and habits
of the Gauchos, he has obtained an unbounded popularity in the country,
and in consequence a despotic power. I was assured by an English
merchant, that a man who had murdered another, when arrested and
questioned concerning his motive, answered, “He spoke disrespectfully
of General Rosas, so I killed him.” At the end of a week the murderer
was at liberty. This doubtless was the act of the general’s party, and
not of the general himself.
In conversation he is enthusiastic, sensible, and very grave. His
gravity is carried to a high pitch: I heard one of his mad buffoons
(for he keeps two, like the barons of old) relate the following
anecdote. “I wanted very much to hear a certain piece of music, so I
went to the general two or three times to ask him; he said to me, ‘Go
about your business, for I am engaged.’ I went a second time; he said,
‘If you come again I will punish you.’ A third time I asked, and he
laughed. I rushed out of the tent, but it was too late—he ordered two
soldiers to catch and stake me. I begged by all the saints in heaven he
would let me off; but it would not do,—when the general laughs he
spares neither mad man nor sound.” The poor flighty gentleman looked
quite dolorous, at the very recollection of the staking. This is a very
severe punishment; four posts are driven into the ground, and the man
is extended by his arms and legs horizontally, and there left to
stretch for several hours. The idea is evidently taken from the usual
method of drying hides. My interview passed away without a smile, and I
obtained a passport and order for the government post-horses, and this
he gave me in the most obliging and ready manner.
In the morning we started for Bahia Blanca, which we reached in two
days. Leaving the regular encampment, we passed by the toldos of the
Indians. These are round like ovens, and covered with hides; by the
mouth of each, a tapering chuzo was stuck in the ground. The toldos
were divided into separate groups, which belonged to the different
caciques’ tribes, and the groups were again divided into smaller ones,
according to the relationship of the owners. For several miles we
travelled along the valley of the Colorado. The alluvial plains on the
side appeared fertile, and it is supposed that they are well adapted to
the growth of corn.
Turning northward from the river, we soon entered on a country,
differing from the plains south of the river. The land still continued
dry and sterile: but it supported many different kinds of plants, and
the grass, though brown and withered, was more abundant, as the thorny
bushes were less so. These latter in a short space entirely
disappeared, and the plains were left without a thicket to cover their
nakedness. This change in the vegetation marks the commencement of the
grand calcareo-argillaceous deposit, which forms the wide extent of the
Pampas, and covers the granitic rocks of Banda Oriental. From the
Strait of Magellan to the Colorado, a distance of about eight hundred
miles, the face of the country is everywhere composed of shingle: the
pebbles are chiefly of porphyry, and probably owe their origin to the
rocks of the Cordillera. North of the Colorado this bed thins out, and
the pebbles become exceedingly small, and here the characteristic
vegetation of Patagonia ceases.
Having ridden about twenty-five miles, we came to a broad belt of
sand-dunes, which stretches, as far as the eye can reach, to the east
and west. The sand-hillocks resting on the clay, allow small pools of
water to collect, and thus afford in this dry country an invaluable
supply of fresh water. The great advantage arising from depressions and
elevations of the soil, is not often brought home to the mind. The two
miserable springs in the long passage between the Rio Negro and
Colorado were caused by trifling inequalities in the plain, without
them not a drop of water would have been found. The belt of sand-dunes
is about eight miles wide; at some former period, it probably formed
the margin of a grand estuary, where the Colorado now flows. In this
district, where absolute proofs of the recent elevation of the land
occur, such speculations can hardly be neglected by any one, although
merely considering the physical geography of the country. Having
crossed the sandy tract, we arrived in the evening at one of the
post-houses; and, as the fresh horses were grazing at a distance we
determined to pass the night there.
The house was situated at the base of a ridge between one and two
hundred feet high—a most remarkable feature in this country. This posta
was commanded by a negro lieutenant,
born in Africa: to his credit be it said, there was not a ranche
between the Colorado and Buenos Ayres in nearly such neat order as his.
He had a little room for strangers, and a small corral for the horses,
all made of sticks and reeds; he had also dug a ditch round his house
as a defence in case of being attacked. This would, however, have been
of little avail, if the Indians had come; but his chief comfort seemed
to rest in the thought of selling his life dearly. A short time before,
a body of Indians had travelled past in the night; if they had been
aware of the posta, our black friend and his four soldiers would
assuredly have been slaughtered. I did not anywhere meet a more civil
and obliging man than this negro; it was therefore the more painful to
see that he would not sit down and eat with us.
In the morning we sent for the horses very early, and started for
another exhilarating gallop. We passed the Cabeza del Buey, an old name
given to the head of a large marsh, which extends from Bahia Blanca.
Here we changed horses, and passed through some leagues of swamps and
saline marshes. Changing horses for the last time, we again began
wading through the mud. My animal fell, and I was well soused in black
mire—a very disagreeable accident, when one does not possess a change
of clothes. Some miles from the fort we met a man, who told us that a
great gun had been fired, which is a signal that Indians are near. We
immediately left the road, and followed the edge of a marsh, which when
chased offers the best mode of escape. We were glad to arrive within
the walls, when we found all the alarm was about nothing, for the
Indians turned out to be friendly ones, who wished to join General
Rosas.
Bahia Blanca scarcely deserves the name of a village. A few houses and
the barracks for the troops are enclosed by a deep ditch and fortified
wall. The settlement is only of recent standing (since 1828); and its
growth has been one of trouble. The government of Buenos Ayres unjustly
occupied it by force, instead of following the wise example of the
Spanish Viceroys, who purchased the land near the older settlement of
the Rio Negro, from the Indians. Hence the need of the fortifications;
hence the few houses and little cultivated land without the limits of
the walls; even the cattle are not safe from the
attacks of the Indians beyond the boundaries of the plain on which the
fortress stands.
The part of the harbour where the _Beagle_ intended to anchor being
distant twenty-five miles, I obtained from the Commandant a guide and
horses, to take me to see whether she had arrived. Leaving the plain of
green turf, which extended along the course of a little brook, we soon
entered on a wide level waste consisting either of sand, saline
marshes, or bare mud. Some parts were clothed by low thickets, and
others with those succulent plants which luxuriate only where salt
abounds. Bad as the country was, ostriches, deers, agoutis, and
armadilloes, were abundant. My guide told me, that two months before he
had a most narrow escape of his life: he was out hunting with two other
men, at no great distance from this part of the country, when they were
suddenly met by a party of Indians, who giving chase, soon overtook and
killed his two friends. His own horse’s legs were also caught by the
bolas, but he jumped off, and with his knife cut them free: while doing
this he was obliged to dodge round his horse, and received two severe
wounds from their chuzos. Springing on the saddle, he managed, by a
most wonderful exertion, just to keep ahead of the long spears of his
pursuers, who followed him to within sight of the fort. From that time
there was an order that no one should stray far from the settlement. I
did not know of this when I started, and was surprised to observe how
earnestly my guide watched a deer, which appeared to have been
frightened from a distant quarter.
We found the _Beagle_ had not arrived, and consequently set out on our
return, but the horses soon tiring, we were obliged to bivouac on the
plain. In the morning we had caught an armadillo, which, although a
most excellent dish when roasted in its shell, did not make a very
substantial breakfast and dinner for two hungry men. The ground at the
place where we stopped for the night was incrusted with a layer of
sulphate of soda, and hence, of course, was without water. Yet many of
the smaller rodents managed to exist even here, and the tucutuco was
making its odd little grunt beneath my head, during half the night. Our
horses were very poor ones, and in
the morning they were soon exhausted from not having had anything to
drink, so that we were obliged to walk. About noon the dogs killed a
kid, which we roasted. I ate some of it, but it made me intolerably
thirsty. This was the more distressing as the road, from some recent
rain, was full of little puddles of clear water, yet not a drop was
drinkable. I had scarcely been twenty hours without water, and only
part of the time under a hot sun, yet the thirst rendered me very weak.
How people survive two or three days under such circumstances, I cannot
imagine: at the same time, I must confess that my guide did not suffer
at all, and was astonished that one day’s deprivation should be so
troublesome to me.
I have several times alluded to the surface of the ground being
incrusted with salt. This phenomenon is quite different from that of
the salinas, and more extraordinary. In many parts of South America,
wherever the climate is moderately dry, these incrustations occur; but
I have nowhere seen them so abundant as near Bahia Blanca. The salt
here, and in other parts of Patagonia, consists chiefly of sulphate of
soda with some common salt. As long as the ground remains moist in the
salitrales (as the Spaniards improperly call them, mistaking this
substance for saltpetre), nothing is to be seen but an extensive plain
composed of a black, muddy soil, supporting scattered tufts of
succulent plants. On returning through one of these tracts, after a
week’s hot weather, one is surprised to see square miles of the plain
white, as if from a slight fall of snow, here and there heaped up by
the wind into little drifts. This latter appearance is chiefly caused
by the salts being drawn up, during the slow evaporation of the
moisture, round blades of dead grass, stumps of wood, and pieces of
broken earth, instead of being crystallised at the bottoms of the
puddles of water.
The salitrales occur either on level tracts elevated only a few feet
above the level of the sea, or on alluvial land bordering rivers. M.
Parchappe[7] found that the saline incrustation on the plain, at the
distance of some miles from the sea, consisted chiefly of sulphate of
soda, with only seven per cent of common salt; whilst nearer to the
coast, the
common salt increased to 37 parts in a hundred. This circumstance would
tempt one to believe that the sulphate of soda is generated in the
soil, from the muriate left on the surface during the slow and recent
elevation of this dry country. The whole phenomenon is well worthy the
attention of naturalists. Have the succulent, salt-loving plants, which
are well known to contain much soda, the power of decomposing the
muriate? Does the black fetid mud, abounding with organic matter, yield
the sulphur and ultimately the sulphuric acid?
[7] _Voyage dans l’Amérique Mérid._ par M. A. d’Orbigny. Part. Hist.,
tome i, p. 664.
Two days afterwards I again rode to the harbour: when not far from our
destination, my companion, the same man as before, spied three people
hunting on horseback. He immediately dismounted, and watching them
intently, said, “They don’t ride like Christians, and nobody can leave
the fort.” The three hunters joined company, and likewise dismounted
from their horses. At last one mounted again and rode over the hill out
of sight. My companion said, “We must now get on our horses: load your
pistol;” and he looked to his own sword. I asked, “Are they
Indians?”—“Quien sabe? (who knows?) if there are no more than three, it
does not signify.” It then struck me, that the one man had gone over
the hill to fetch the rest of his tribe. I suggested this; but all the
answer I could extort was, “Quien sabe?” His head and eye never for a
minute ceased scanning slowly the distant horizon. I thought his
uncommon coolness too good a joke, and asked him why he did not return
home. I was startled when he answered, “We are returning, but in a line
so as to pass near a swamp, into which we can gallop the horses as far
as they can go, and then trust to our own legs; so that there is no
danger.” I did not feel quite so confident of this, and wanted to
increase our pace. He said, “No, not until they do.” When any little
inequality concealed us, we galloped; but when in sight, continued
walking. At last we reached a valley, and turning to the left, galloped
quickly to the foot of a hill; he gave me his horse to hold, made the
dogs lie down, and then crawled on his hands and knees to reconnoitre.
He remained in this position for some time, and at last, bursting out
in laughter, exclaimed, “Mugeres!” (women!) He knew
them to be the wife and sister-in-law of the major’s son, hunting for
ostrich’s eggs.
I have described this man’s conduct, because he acted under the full
impression that they were Indians. As soon, however, as the absurd
mistake was found out, he gave me a hundred reasons why they could not
have been Indians; but all these were forgotten at the time. We then
rode on in peace and quietness to a low point called Punta Alta, whence
we could see nearly the whole of the great harbour of Bahia Blanca.
The wide expanse of water is choked up by numerous great mudbanks,
which the inhabitants call Cangrejales, or _ crabberies_, from the
number of small crabs. The mud is so soft that it is impossible to walk
over them, even for the shortest distance. Many of the banks have their
surfaces covered with long rushes, the tops of which alone are visible
at high water. On one occasion, when in a boat, we were so entangled by
these shallows that we could hardly find our way. Nothing was visible
but the flat beds of mud; the day was not very clear, and there was
much refraction, or, as the sailors expressed it, “things loomed high.”
The only object within our view which was not level was the horizon;
rushes looked like bushes unsupported in the air, and water like
mudbanks, and mudbanks like water.
We passed the night in Punta Alta, and I employed myself in searching
for fossil bones; this point being a perfect catacomb for monsters of
extinct races. The evening was perfectly calm and clear; the extreme
monotony of the view gave it an interest even in the midst of mudbanks
and gulls, sand-hillocks and solitary vultures. In riding back in the
morning we came across a very fresh track of a Puma, but did not
succeed in finding it. We saw also a couple of Zorillos, or
skunks,—odious animals, which are far from uncommon. In general
appearance the Zorillo resembles a polecat, but it is rather larger,
and much thicker in proportion. Conscious of its power, it roams by day
about the open plain, and fears neither dog nor man. If a dog is urged
to the attack, its courage is instantly checked by a few drops of the
fetid oil, which brings on violent sickness and running at the nose.
Whatever is once polluted by it, is for ever useless. Azara
says the smell can be perceived at a league distant; more than once,
when entering the harbour of Monte Video, the wind being off shore, we
have perceived the odour on board the _Beagle._ Certain it is, that
every animal most willingly makes room for the Zorillo.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter V
Bahia Blanca—Geology—Numerous gigantic extinct Quadrupeds—Recent
Extinction—Longevity of Species—Large Animals do not require a
luxuriant Vegetation—Southern Africa—Siberian Fossils—Two Species of
Ostrich—Habits of Oven-bird—Armadilloes—Venomous Snake, Toad,
Lizard—Hybernation of Animals—Habits of Sea-Pen—Indian Wars and
Massacres—Arrowhead, antiquarian Relic.
BAHIA BLANCA.
The _Beagle_ arrived here on the 24th of August, and a week afterwards
sailed for the Plata. With Captain Fitz Roy’s consent I was left
behind, to travel by land to Buenos Ayres. I will here add some
observations, which were made during this visit and on a previous
occasion, when the _Beagle_ was employed in surveying the harbour.
The plain, at the distance of a few miles from the coast,
belongs to the great Pampean formation, which consists in part of a
reddish clay, and in part of a highly calcareous marly rock. Nearer the
coast there are some plains formed from the wreck of the upper plain,
and from mud, gravel, and sand thrown up by the sea during the slow
elevation of the land, of which elevation we have evidence in upraised
beds of recent shells, and in rounded pebbles of pumice scattered over
the country. At Punta Alta we have a section of one of these
later-formed little plains, which is highly interesting from the number
and extraordinary character of the remains of gigantic land-animals
embedded in it. These have been fully described by Professor Owen, in
the _Zoology of the Voyage of the Beagle_, and are deposited in the
College of Surgeons. I will here give only a brief outline of their
nature.
First, parts of three heads and other bones of the Megatherium, the
huge dimensions of which are expressed by its name. Secondly, the
Megalonyx, a great allied animal. Thirdly, the Scelidotherium, also an
allied animal, of which I obtained a nearly perfect skeleton. It must
have been as large as a rhinoceros: in the structure of its head it
comes, according to Mr. Owen, nearest to the Cape Ant-eater, but in
some other respects it approaches to the armadilloes. Fourthly, the
Mylodon Darwinii, a closely related genus of little inferior size.
Fifthly, another gigantic edental quadruped. Sixthly, a large animal,
with an osseous coat in compartments, very like that of an armadillo.
Seventhly, an extinct kind of horse, to which I shall have again to
refer. Eighthly, a tooth of a Pachydermatous animal, probably the same
with the Macrauchenia, a huge beast with a long neck like a camel,
which I shall also refer to again. Lastly, the Toxodon, perhaps one of
the strangest animals ever discovered: in size it equalled an elephant
or megatherium, but the structure of its teeth, as Mr. Owen states,
proves indisputably that it was intimately related to the Gnawers, the
order which, at the present day, includes most of the smallest
quadrupeds: in many details it is allied to the Pachydermata: judging
from the position of its eyes, ears, and nostrils, it was probably
aquatic, like the Dugong and Manatee, to which it is also allied. How
wonderfully are the different Orders, at the present time so well
separated, blended together in different points of the structure of the
Toxodon!
The remains of these nine great quadrupeds and many detached bones were
found embedded on the beach, within the space of about 200 yards
square. It is a remarkable circumstance that so many different species
should be found together; and it proves how numerous in kind the
ancient inhabitants of this country must have been. At the distance of
about thirty miles from Punta Alta, in a cliff of red earth, I found
several fragments of bones, some of large size. Among them were the
teeth of a gnawer, equalling in size and closely resembling those of
the Capybara, whose habits have been described; and therefore,
probably, an aquatic animal. There was also part of the head of a
Ctenomys; the species being different from the Tucutuco, but with a
close general resemblance. The red earth, like that of the Pampas, in
which these remains were embedded, contains, according to Professor
Ehrenberg, eight fresh-water and one salt-water infusorial animalcule;
therefore, probably, it was an estuary deposit.
The remains at Punta Alta were embedded in stratified gravel and
reddish mud, just such as the sea might now wash up on a shallow bank.
They were associated with twenty-three species of shells, of which
thirteen are recent and four others very closely related to recent
forms.[1] From the bones of the Scelidotherium, including even the
kneecap, being entombed in their proper relative positions,[2] and from
the osseous armour of the great armadillo-like animal being so well
preserved, together with the bones of one of its legs, we may feel
assured that these remains were fresh and united by their ligaments,
when deposited in the gravel together with the shells. Hence we have
good evidence that the above enumerated gigantic quadrupeds, more
different from those of the present day than the oldest of the tertiary
quadrupeds of Europe, lived whilst the sea was peopled with most of its
present inhabitants; and we have confirmed that remarkable law so often
insisted on by Mr. Lyell, namely, that the “longevity of the species in
the mammalia is upon the whole inferior to that of the testacea.”[3]
[1] Since this was written, M. Alcide d’Orbigny has examined these
shells, and pronounces them all to be recent.
[2] M. Aug. Bravard has described, in a Spanish work (_Observaciones
Geologicas_, 1857), this district, and he believes that the bones of
the extinct mammals were washed out of the underlying Pampean deposit,
and subsequently became embedded with the still existing shells; but I
am not convinced by his remarks. M. Bravard believes that the whole
enormous Pampean deposit is a sub-aerial formation, like sand-dunes:
this seems to me to be an untenable doctrine.
[3] _Principles of Geology_, vol. iv, p. 40.
The great size of the bones of the Megatheroid animals, including the
Megatherium, Megalonyx, Scelidotherium, and Mylodon, is truly
wonderful. The habits of life of these animals were a complete puzzle
to naturalists, until Professor Owen[4] solved the problem with
remarkable ingenuity. The teeth indicate, by their simple structure,
that these Megatheroid animals lived on vegetable food, and probably on
the leaves and small twigs of trees; their ponderous forms and great
strong curved claws seem so little adapted for locomotion, that some
eminent naturalists have actually believed that, like the sloths, to
which they are intimately related, they subsisted by climbing back
downwards on trees, and feeding on the leaves. It was a bold, not to
say preposterous, idea to conceive even antediluvian trees, with
branches strong enough to bear animals as large as elephants. Professor
Owen, with far more probability, believes that, instead of climbing on
the trees, they pulled the branches down to them, and tore up the
smaller ones by the roots, and so fed on the leaves. The colossal
breadth and weight of their hinder quarters, which can hardly be
imagined without having been seen, become, on this view, of obvious
service, instead of being an encumbrance: their apparent clumsiness
disappears. With their great tails and their huge heels firmly fixed
like a tripod on the ground, they could freely exert the full force of
their most powerful arms and great claws. Strongly rooted, indeed, must
that tree have been, which could have resisted such force! The Mylodon,
moreover, was furnished with a long extensile tongue like that of the
giraffe, which, by one of those beautiful provisions of nature, thus
reaches with the aid of its long neck its leafy food. I may remark,
that in Abyssinia the elephant, according to Bruce, when it cannot
reach with its proboscis the branches, deeply scores with its tusks the
trunk of the tree, up and down and all round, till it is sufficiently
weakened to be broken down.
[4] This theory was first developed in the _Zoology of the Voyage of
the Beagle_, and subsequently in Professor Owen’s _Memoir on Mylodon
robustus._
The beds including the above fossil remains stand only from fifteen to
twenty feet above the level of high water; and hence
the elevation of the land has been small (without there has been an
intercalated period of subsidence, of which we have no evidence) since
the great quadrupeds wandered over the surrounding plains; and the
external features of the country must then have been very nearly the
same as now. What, it may naturally be asked, was the character of the
vegetation at that period; was the country as wretchedly sterile as it
now is? As so many of the co-embedded shells are the same with those
now living in the bay, I was at first inclined to think that the former
vegetation was probably similar to the existing one; but this would
have been an erroneous inference, for some of these same shells live on
the luxuriant coast of Brazil; and generally, the characters of the
inhabitants of the sea are useless as guides to judge of those on the
land. Nevertheless, from the following considerations, I do not believe
that the simple fact of many gigantic quadrupeds having lived on the
plains round Bahia Blanca, is any sure guide that they formerly were
clothed with a luxuriant vegetation: I have no doubt that the sterile
country a little southward, near the Rio Negro, with its scattered
thorny trees, would support many and large quadrupeds.
That large animals require a luxuriant vegetation, has been a general
assumption which has passed from one work to another; but I do not
hesitate to say that it is completely false, and that it has vitiated
the reasoning of geologists on some points of great interest in the
ancient history of the world. The prejudice has probably been derived
from India, and the Indian islands, where troops of elephants, noble
forests, and impenetrable jungles, are associated together in every
one’s mind. If, however, we refer to any work of travels through the
southern parts of Africa, we shall find allusions in almost every page
either to the desert character of the country, or to the numbers of
large animals inhabiting it. The same thing is rendered evident by the
many engravings which have been published of various parts of the
interior. When the _ Beagle_ was at Cape Town, I made an excursion of
some days’ length into the country, which at least was sufficient to
render that which I had read more fully intelligible.
Dr. Andrew Smith, who, at the head of his adventurous party, has lately
succeeded in passing the Tropic of Capricorn,
informs me that, taking into consideration the whole of the southern
part of Africa, there can be no doubt of its being a sterile country.
On the southern and south-eastern coasts there are some fine forests,
but with these exceptions, the traveller may pass for days together
through open plains, covered by a poor and scanty vegetation. It is
difficult to convey any accurate idea of degrees of comparative
fertility; but it may be safely said that the amount of vegetation
supported at any one time[5] by Great Britain, exceeds, perhaps even
tenfold, the quantity on an equal area in the interior parts of
Southern Africa. The fact that bullock-waggons can travel in any
direction, excepting near the coast, without more than occasionally
half an hour’s delay in cutting down bushes, gives, perhaps, a more
definite notion of the scantiness of the vegetation. Now, if we look to
the animals inhabiting these wide plains, we shall find their numbers
extraordinarily great, and their bulk immense. We must enumerate the
elephant, three species of rhinoceros, and probably, according to Dr.
Smith, two others, the hippopotamus, the giraffe, the bos caffer—as
large as a full-grown bull, and the elan—but little less, two zebras,
and the quaccha, two gnus, and several antelopes even larger than these
latter animals. It may be supposed that although the species are
numerous, the individuals of each kind are few. By the kindness of Dr.
Smith, I am enabled to show that the case is very different. He informs
me, that in lat. 24°, in one day’s march with the bullock-waggons, he
saw, without wandering to any great distance on either side, between
one hundred and one hundred and fifty rhinoceroses, which belonged to
three species: the same day he saw several herds of giraffes, amounting
together to nearly a hundred; and that, although no elephant was
observed, yet they are found in this district. At the distance of a
little more than one hour’s march from their place of encampment on the
previous night, his party actually killed at one spot eight
hippopotamuses, and saw many more. In this same river there were
likewise crocodiles. Of course it was a case quite extraordinary, to
see so many great animals crowded together, but it evidently proves
that they must exist in great numbers. Dr. Smith describes the country
passed through that day, as “being
thinly covered with grass, and bushes about four feet high, and still
more thinly with mimosa-trees.” The waggons were not prevented
travelling in a nearly straight line.
[5] I mean by this to exclude the total amount which may have been
successively produced and consumed during a given period.
Besides these large animals, every one the least acquainted with the
natural history of the Cape has read of the herds of antelopes, which
can be compared only with the flocks of migratory birds. The numbers
indeed of the lion, panther, and hyæna, and the multitude of birds of
prey, plainly speak of the abundance of the smaller quadrupeds: one
evening seven lions were counted at the same time prowling round Dr.
Smith’s encampment. As this able naturalist remarked to me, the carnage
each day in Southern Africa must indeed be terrific! I confess it is
truly surprising how such a number of animals can find support in a
country producing so little food. The larger quadrupeds no doubt roam
over wide tracts in search of it; and their food chiefly consists of
underwood, which probably contains much nutriment in a small bulk. Dr.
Smith also informs me that the vegetation has a rapid growth; no sooner
is a part consumed, than its place is supplied by a fresh stock. There
can be no doubt, however, that our ideas respecting the apparent amount
of food necessary for the support of large quadrupeds are much
exaggerated: it should have been remembered that the camel, an animal
of no mean bulk, has always been considered as the emblem of the
desert.
The belief that where large quadrupeds exist, the vegetation must
necessarily be luxuriant, is the more remarkable, because the converse
is far from true. Mr. Burchell observed to me that when entering
Brazil, nothing struck him more forcibly than the splendour of the
South American vegetation contrasted with that of South Africa,
together with the absence of all large quadrupeds. In his _Travels_,[6]
he has suggested that the comparison of the respective weights (if
there were sufficient data) of an equal number of the largest
herbivorous quadrupeds of each country would be extremely curious. If
we take on the one side, the elephant,[7] hippopotamus, giraffe, bos
caffer,
elan, certainly three, and probably five species of rhinoceros; and on
the American side, two tapirs, the guanaco, three deer, the vicuna,
peccari, capybara (after which we must choose from the monkeys to
complete the number), and then place these two groups alongside each
other, it is not easy to conceive ranks more disproportionate in size.
After the above facts, we are compelled to conclude, against anterior
probability,[8] that among the mammalia there exists no close relation
between the _bulk_ of the species and the _quantity_ of the vegetation
in the countries which they inhabit.
[6] _Travels in the Interior of South Africa_, vol. ii, p. 207.
[7] The elephant which was killed at Exeter Change was estimated
(being partly weighed) at five tons and a half. The elephant actress,
as I was informed, weighed one ton less; so that we may take five as
the average of a full-grown elephant. I was told at the Surry Gardens,
that a hippopotamus which was sent to England cut up into pieces was
estimated at three tons and a half; we will call it three. From these
premises we may give three tons and a half to each of the five
rhinoceroses; perhaps a ton to the giraffe, and half to the bos caffer
as well as to the elan (a large ox weighs from 1200 to 1500 pounds).
This will give an average (from the above estimates) of 2.7 of a ton
for the ten largest herbivorous animals of Southern Africa. In South
America, allowing 1200 pounds for the two tapirs together, 550 for the
guanaco and vicuna, 500 for three deer, 300 for the capybara, peccari,
and a monkey, we shall have an average of 250 pounds, which I believe
is overstating the result. The ratio will therefore be as 6048 to 250,
or 24 to 1, for the ten largest animals from the two continents.
[8] If we suppose the case of the discovery of a skeleton of a
Greenland whale in a fossil state, not a single cetaceous animal being
known to exist, what naturalist would have ventured conjecture on the
possibility of a carcass so gigantic being supported on the minute
crustacea and mollusca living in the frozen seas of the extreme North?
With regard to the number of large quadrupeds, there certainly exists
no quarter of the globe which will bear comparison with Southern
Africa. After the different statements which have been given, the
extremely desert character of that region will not be disputed. In the
European division of the world, we must look back to the tertiary
epochs, to find a condition of things among the mammalia, resembling
that now existing at the Cape of Good Hope. Those tertiary epochs,
which we are apt to consider as abounding to an astonishing degree with
large animals, because we find the remains of many ages accumulated at
certain spots, could hardly boast of more large quadrupeds than
Southern Africa does at present. If we speculate on the condition of
the vegetation during those epochs, we are at least bound so far to
consider existing analogies, as not to urge as absolutely necessary a
luxuriant vegetation, when we see a state of things so totally
different at the Cape of Good Hope.
We know[9] that the extreme regions of North America
many degrees beyond the limit where the ground at the depth of a few
feet remains perpetually congealed, are covered by forests of large and
tall trees. In a like manner, in Siberia, we have woods of birch, fir,
aspen, and larch, growing in a latitude[10] (64°) where the mean
temperature of the air falls below the freezing point, and where the
earth is so completely frozen, that the carcass of an animal embedded
in it is perfectly preserved. With these facts we must grant, as far as
_quantity alone_ of vegetation is concerned, that the great quadrupeds
of the later tertiary epochs might, in most parts of Northern Europe
and Asia, have lived on the spots where their remains are now found. I
do not here speak of the _kind_ of vegetation necessary for their
support; because, as there is evidence of physical changes, and as the
animals have become extinct, so may we suppose that the species of
plants have likewise been changed.
[9] See _Zoological Remarks to Captain Back’s Expedition_, by Dr.
Richardson. He says, “The subsoil north of latitude 56° is perpetually
frozen, the thaw on the coast not penetrating above three feet, and at
Bear Lake, in latitude 64°, not more than twenty inches. The frozen
substratum does not of itself destroy vegetation, for forests flourish
on the surface, at a distance from the coast.”
[10] See Humboldt _Fragmens Asiatiques_, p. 386: Barton’s _Geography
of Plants_; and Malte Brun. In the latter work it is said that the
limit of the growth of trees in Siberia may be drawn under the
parallel of 70°.
These remarks, I may be permitted to add, directly bear on the case of
the Siberian animals preserved in ice. The firm conviction of the
necessity of a vegetation possessing a character of tropical
luxuriance, to support such large animals, and the impossibility of
reconciling this with the proximity of perpetual congelation, was one
chief cause of the several theories of sudden revolutions of climate,
and of overwhelming catastrophes, which were invented to account for
their entombment. I am far from supposing that the climate has not
changed since the period when those animals lived, which now lie buried
in the ice. At present I only wish to show, that as far as _quantity_
of food _alone_ is concerned, the ancient rhinoceroses might have
roamed over the _steppes_ of central Siberia (the northern parts
probably being under water) even in their present condition, as well as
the living rhinoceroses and elephants over the _Karros_ of Southern
Africa.
I will now give an account of the habits of some of the more
interesting birds which are common on the wild plains of Northern
Patagonia: and first for the largest, or South
American ostrich. The ordinary habits of the ostrich are familiar to
every one. They live on vegetable matter, such as roots and grass; but
at Bahia Blanca I have repeatedly seen three or four come down at low
water to the extensive mudbanks which are then dry, for the sake, as
the Gauchos say, of feeding on small fish. Although the ostrich in its
habits is so shy, wary, and solitary, and although so fleet in its
pace, it is caught without much difficulty by the Indian or Gaucho
armed with the bolas. When several horsemen appear in a semicircle, it
becomes confounded, and does not know which way to escape. They
generally prefer running against the wind; yet at the first start they
expand their wings, and like a vessel make all sail. On one fine hot
day I saw several ostriches enter a bed of tall rushes, where they
squatted concealed, till quite closely approached. It is not generally
known that ostriches readily take to the water. Mr. King informs me
that at the Bay of San Blas, and at Port Valdes in Patagonia, he saw
these birds swimming several times from island to island. They ran into
the water both when driven down to a point, and likewise of their own
accord when not frightened: the distance crossed was about two hundred
yards. When swimming, very little of their bodies appear above water;
their necks are extended a little forward, and their progress is slow.
On two occasions I saw some ostriches swimming across the Santa Cruz
river, where its course was about four hundred yards wide, and the
stream rapid. Captain Sturt,[11] when descending the Murrumbidgee, in
Australia, saw two emus in the act of swimming.
[11] Sturt’s _Travels_, vol. ii, p. 74.
The inhabitants of the country readily distinguish, even at a distance,
the cock bird from the hen. The former is larger and
darker-coloured,[12] and has a bigger head. The ostrich, I believe the
cock, emits a singular, deep-toned, hissing note: when first I heard
it, standing in the midst of some sand-hillocks, I thought it was made
by some wild beast, for it is a sound that one cannot tell whence it
comes, or from how far distant. When we were at Bahia Blanca in the
months of September and October, the eggs, in extraordinary numbers,
were found all
over the country. They lie either scattered and single, in which case
they are never hatched, and are called by the Spaniards huachos; or
they are collected together into a shallow excavation, which forms the
nest. Out of the four nests which I saw, three contained twenty-two
eggs each, and the fourth twenty-seven. In one day’s hunting on
horseback sixty-four eggs were found; forty-four of these were in two
nests, and the remaining twenty, scattered huachos. The Gauchos
unanimously affirm, and there is no reason to doubt their statement,
that the male bird alone hatches the eggs, and for some time afterwards
accompanies the young. The cock when on the nest lies very close; I
have myself almost ridden over one. It is asserted that at such times
they are occasionally fierce, and even dangerous, and that they have
been known to attack a man on horseback, trying to kick and leap on
him. My informer pointed out to me an old man, whom he had seen much
terrified by one chasing him. I observe in Burchell’s _Travels in South
Africa_ that he remarks, “Having killed a male ostrich, and the
feathers being dirty, it was said by the Hottentots to be a nest bird.”
I understand that the male emu in the Zoological Gardens takes charge
of the nest: this habit, therefore, is common to the family.
[12] A Gaucho assured me that he had once seen a snow-white or Albino
variety, and that it was a most beautiful bird.
The Gauchos unanimously affirm that several females lay in one nest. I
have been positively told that four or five hen birds have been watched
to go in the middle of the day, one after the other, to the same nest.
I may add, also, that it is believed in Africa that two or more females
lay in one nest.[13] Although this habit at first appears very strange,
I think the cause may be explained in a simple manner. The number of
eggs in the nest varies from twenty to forty, and even to fifty; and
according to Azara, sometimes to seventy or eighty. Now although it is
most probable, from the number of eggs found in one district being so
extraordinarily great in proportion to the parent birds, and likewise
from the state of the ovarium of the hen, that she may in the course of
the season lay a large number, yet the time required must be very long.
Azara states,[14] that a female in a state of domestication laid
seventeen
eggs, each at the interval of three days one from another. If the hen
was obliged to hatch her own eggs, before the last was laid the first
probably would be addled; but if each laid a few eggs at successive
periods, in different nests, and several hens, as is stated to be the
case, combined together, then the eggs in one collection would be
nearly of the same age. If the number of eggs in one of these nests is,
as I believe, not greater on an average than the number laid by one
female in the season, then there must be as many nests as females, and
each cock bird will have its fair share of the labour of incubation;
and that during a period when the females probably could not sit, from
not having finished laying.[15] I have before mentioned the great
numbers of huachos, or deserted eggs; so that in one day’s hunting
twenty were found in this state. It appears odd that so many should be
wasted. Does it not arise from the difficulty of several females
associating together, and finding a male ready to undertake the office
of incubation? It is evident that there must at first be some degree of
association between at least two females; otherwise the eggs would
remain scattered over the wide plains, at distances far too great to
allow of the male collecting them into one nest: some authors have
believed that the scattered eggs were deposited for the young birds to
feed on. This can hardly be the case in America, because the huachos,
although often found addled and putrid, are generally whole.
[13] Burchell’s _Travels_, vol. i, p. 280.
[14] Azara, vol. iv, p. 173.
[15] Lichtenstein, however, asserts (_Travels_, vol. ii, p. 25) that
the hens begin sitting when they have laid ten or twelve eggs; and
that they continue laying, I presume in another nest. This appears to
me very improbable. He asserts that four or five hens associate for
incubation with one cock, who sits only at night.
When at the Rio Negro in Northern Patagonia, I repeatedly heard the
Gauchos talking of a very rare bird which they called Avestruz Petise.
They described it as being less than the common ostrich (which is there
abundant), but with a very close general resemblance. They said its
colour was dark and mottled, and that its legs were shorter, and
feathered lower down than those of the common ostrich. It is more
easily caught by the bolas than the other species. The few inhabitants
who had seen both kinds, affirmed they could distinguish them apart
from a long distance. The eggs of the small species appeared, however,
more generally known; and it was remarked, with
surprise, that they were very little less than those of the Rhea but of
a slightly different form, and with a tinge of pale blue. This species
occurs most rarely on the plains bordering the Rio Negro; but about a
degree and a half farther south they are tolerably abundant. When at
Port Desire, in Patagonia (lat. 48°), Mr. Martens shot an ostrich; and
I looked at it, forgetting at the moment, in the most unaccountable
manner, the whole subject of the Petises, and thought it was a not
full-grown bird of the common sort. It was cooked and eaten before my
memory returned. Fortunately the head, neck, legs, wings, many of the
larger feathers, and a large part of the skin, had been preserved; and
from these a very nearly perfect specimen has been put together, and is
now exhibited in the museum of the Zoological Society. Mr. Gould, in
describing this new species, has done me the honour of calling it after
my name.
Among the Patagonian Indians in the Strait of Magellan, we found a half
Indian, who had lived some years with the tribe, but had been born in
the northern provinces. I asked him if he had ever heard of the
Avestruz Petise. He answered by saying, “Why, there are none others in
these southern countries.” He informed me that the number of eggs in
the nest of the petise is considerably less than in that of the other
kind, namely, not more than fifteen on an average, but he asserted that
more than one female deposited them. At Santa Cruz we saw several of
these birds. They were excessively wary: I think they could see a
person approaching when too far off to be distinguished themselves. In
ascending the river few were seen; but in our quiet and rapid descent
many, in pairs and by fours or fives, were observed. It was remarked
that this bird did not expand its wings, when first starting at full
speed, after the manner of the northern kind. In conclusion I may
observe that the Struthio rhea inhabits the country of La Plata as far
as a little south of the Rio Negro in lat. 41°, and that the Struthio
Darwinii takes its place in Southern Patagonia; the part about the Rio
Negro being neutral territory. M. A. d’Orbigny,[16] when at the Rio
Negro, made great exertions to
procure this bird, but never had the good fortune to succeed.
Dobrizhoffer[17] long ago was aware of there being two kinds of
ostriches, he says, “You must know, moreover, that Emus differ in size
and habits in different tracts of land; for those that inhabit the
plains of Buenos Ayres and Tucuman are larger, and have black, white
and grey feathers; those near to the Strait of Magellan are smaller and
more beautiful, for their white feathers are tipped with black at the
extremity, and their black ones in like manner terminate in white.”
[16] When at the Rio Negro, we heard much of the indefatigable labours
of this naturalist. M. Alcide d’Orbigny, during the years 1825 to
1833, traversed several large portions of South America, and has made
a collection, and is now publishing the results on a scale of
magnificence, which at once places himself in the list of American
travellers second only to Humboldt.
[17] _Account of the Abipones_, A.D. 1749, vol. i, (English
translation) p. 314.
A very singular little bird, Tinochorus rumicivorus, is here common: in
its habits and general appearance it nearly equally partakes of the
characters, different as they are, of the quail and snipe. The
Tinochorus is found in the whole of southern South America, wherever
there are sterile plains, or open dry pasture land. It frequents in
pairs or small flocks the most desolate places, where scarcely another
living creature can exist. Upon being approached they squat close, and
then are very difficult to be distinguished from the ground. When
feeding they walk rather slowly, with their legs wide apart. They dust
themselves in roads and sandy places, and frequent particular spots,
where they may be found day after day: like partridges, they take wing
in a flock. In all these respects, in the muscular gizzard adapted for
vegetable food, in the arched beak and fleshy nostrils, short legs and
form of foot, the Tinochorus has a close affinity with quails. But as
soon as the bird is seen flying, its whole appearance changes; the long
pointed wings, so different from those in the gallinaceous order, the
irregular manner of flight, and plaintive cry uttered at the moment of
rising, recall the idea of a snipe. The sportsmen of the _Beagle_
unanimously called it the short-billed snipe. To this genus, or rather
to the family of the Waders, its skeleton shows that it is really
related.
The Tinochorus is closely related to some other South American birds.
Two species of the genus Attagis are in almost every respect ptarmigans
in their habits; one lives in Tierra del Fuego, above the limits of the
forest land; and the other just beneath the snow-line on the Cordillera
of Central Chile. A bird of another closely allied genus, Chionis alba,
is
an inhabitant of the antarctic regions; it feeds on seaweed and shells
on the tidal rocks. Although not web-footed, from some unaccountable
habit it is frequently met with far out at sea. This small family of
birds is one of those which, from its varied relations to other
families, although at present offering only difficulties to the
systematic naturalist, ultimately may assist in revealing the grand
scheme, common to the present and past ages, on which organised beings
have been created.
The genus Furnarius contains several species, all small birds, living
on the ground, and inhabiting open dry countries. In structure they
cannot be compared to any European form. Ornithologists have generally
included them among the creepers, although opposed to that family in
every habit. The best known species is the common oven-bird of La
Plata, the Casara or housemaker of the Spaniards. The nest, whence it
takes its name, is placed in the most exposed situations, as on the top
of a post, a bare rock, or on a cactus. It is composed of mud and bits
of straw, and has strong thick walls: in shape it precisely resembles
an oven, or depressed beehive. The opening is large and arched, and
directly in front, within the nest, there is a partition, which reaches
nearly to the roof, thus forming a passage or antechamber to the true
nest.
Another and smaller species of Furnarius (F. cunicularius), resembles
the oven-bird in the general reddish tint of its plumage, in a peculiar
shrill reiterated cry, and in an odd manner of running by starts. From
its affinity, the Spaniards call it Casarita (or little housebuilder),
although its nidification is quite different. The Casarita builds its
nest at the bottom of a narrow cylindrical hole, which is said to
extend horizontally to nearly six feet under ground. Several of the
country people told me, that when boys, they had attempted to dig out
the nest, but had scarcely ever succeeded in getting to the end of the
passage. The bird chooses any low bank of firm sandy soil by the side
of a road or stream. Here (at Bahia Blanca) the walls round the houses
are built of hardened mud, and I noticed that one, which enclosed a
courtyard where I lodged, was bored through by round holes in a score
of places. On asking the owner the cause of this, he bitterly
complained of the little casarita, several of which I afterwards
observed at work. It is rather curious to find how incapable these
birds
must be of acquiring any notion of thickness, for although they were
constantly flitting over the low wall, they continued vainly to bore
through it, thinking it an excellent bank for their nests. I do not
doubt that each bird, as often as it came to daylight on the opposite
side, was greatly surprised at the marvellous fact.
I have already mentioned nearly all the mammalia common in this
country. Of armadilloes three species occur, namely, the Dasypus
minutus or _pichy_, the D. villosus or _peludo_, and the _apar._ The
first extends ten degrees farther south than any other kind; a fourth
species, the _Mulita_, does not come as far south as Bahia Blanca. The
four species have nearly similar habits; the _peludo_, however, is
nocturnal, while the others wander by day over the open plains, feeding
on beetles, larvæ, roots, and even small snakes. The _apar_, commonly
called _mataco_, is remarkable by having only three movable bands; the
rest of its tesselated covering being nearly inflexible. It has the
power of rolling itself into a perfect sphere, like one kind of English
woodlouse. In this state it is safe from the attack of dogs; for the
dog not being able to take the whole in its mouth, tries to bite one
side, and the ball slips away. The smooth hard covering of the _mataco_
offers a better defence than the sharp spines of the hedgehog. The
_pichy_ prefers a very dry soil; and the sand-dunes near the coast,
where for many months it can never taste water, is its favourite
resort: it often tries to escape notice, by squatting close to the
ground. In the course of a day’s ride, near Bahia Blanca, several were
generally met with. The instant one was perceived, it was necessary, in
order to catch it, almost to tumble off one’s horse; for in soft soil
the animal burrowed so quickly, that its hinder quarters would almost
disappear before one could alight. It seems almost a pity to kill such
nice little animals, for as a Gaucho said, while sharpening his knife
on the back of one, “Son tan mansos” (they are so quiet).
Of reptiles there are many kinds: one snake (a Trigonocephalus, or
Cophias, subsequently called by M. Bibron T. crepitans), from the size
of the poison channel in its fangs, must be very deadly. Cuvier, in
opposition to some other naturalists, makes this a sub-genus of the
rattlesnake, and intermediate between it and the viper. In confirmation
of this opinion, I
observed a fact, which appears to me very curious and instructive, as
showing how every character, even though it may be in some degree
independent of structure, has a tendency to vary by slow degrees. The
extremity of the tail of this snake is terminated by a point, which is
very slightly enlarged; and as the animal glides along, it constantly
vibrates the last inch; and this part striking against the dry grass
and brushwood, produces a rattling noise, which can be distinctly heard
at the distance of six feet. As often as the animal was irritated or
surprised, its tail was shaken; and the vibrations were extremely
rapid. Even as long as the body retained its irritability, a tendency
to this habitual movement was evident. This Trigonocephalus has,
therefore, in some respects the structure of a viper, with the habits
of a rattlesnake: the noise, however, being produced by a simpler
device. The expression of this snake’s face was hideous and fierce; the
pupil consisted of a vertical slit in a mottled and coppery iris; the
jaws were broad at the base, and the nose terminated in a triangular
projection. I do not think I ever saw anything more ugly, excepting,
perhaps, some of the vampire bats. I imagine this repulsive aspect
originates from the features being placed in positions, with respect to
each other, somewhat proportional to those of the human face; and thus
we obtain a scale of hideousness.
Amongst the Batrachian reptiles, I found only one little toad
(Phryniscus nigricans), which was most singular from its colour. If we
imagine, first, that it had been steeped in the blackest ink, and then,
when dry, allowed to crawl over a board, freshly painted with the
brightest vermilion, so as to colour the soles of its feet and parts of
its stomach, a good idea of its appearance will be gained. If it had
been an unnamed species, surely it ought to have been called
_Diabolicus_, for it is a fit toad to preach in the ear of Eve. Instead
of being nocturnal in its habits, as other toads are, and living in
damp obscure recesses, it crawls during the heat of the day about the
dry sand-hillocks and arid plains, where not a single drop of water can
be found. It must necessarily depend on the dew for its moisture; and
this probably is absorbed by the skin, for it is known that these
reptiles possess great powers of cutaneous absorption. At Maldonado, I
found one in a situation nearly as dry as at Bahia Blanca, and thinking
to give it a great treat,
carried it to a pool of water; not only was the little animal unable to
swim, but I think without help it would soon have been drowned.
Of lizards there were many kinds, but only one (Proctotretus
multimaculatus) remarkable from its habits. It lives on the bare sand
near the sea-coast, and from its mottled colour, the brownish scales
being speckled with white, yellowish red, and dirty blue, can hardly be
distinguished from the surrounding surface. When frightened, it
attempts to avoid discovery by feigning death, with outstretched legs,
depressed body, and closed eyes: if further molested, it buries itself
with great quickness in the loose sand. This lizard, from its flattened
body and short legs, cannot run quickly.
[Illustration]
I will here add a few remarks on the hybernation of animals in this
part of South America. When we first arrived at Bahia Blanca, September
7th, 1832, we thought nature had granted scarcely a living creature to
this sandy and dry country. By digging, however, in the ground, several
insects, large spiders, and lizards were found in a half-torpid state.
On the 15th, a few animals began to appear, and by the 18th (three days
from the equinox), everything announced the commencement of spring. The
plains were ornamented by the flowers of a pink wood-sorrel, wild peas,
œnotheræ, and geraniums; and the birds began to lay their eggs.
Numerous Lamellicorn and Heteromerous insects, the latter remarkable
for their deeply sculptured bodies, were slowly crawling about; while
the lizard tribe, the constant inhabitants of a sandy soil, darted
about in every direction. During the first eleven days, whilst nature
was dormant, the mean temperature taken from observations made every
two hours on board the _Beagle_, was 51°; and in the middle of the day
the thermometer seldom ranged above 55°. On the eleven succeeding days,
in which all living things became so animated, the mean was 58°, and
the range in the middle of the day between sixty and seventy. Here then
an increase of seven degrees in mean temperature, but a greater one of
extreme heat, was sufficient to awake the functions of life. At Monte
Video, from which we had just before sailed, in the twenty-three days
included between the 26th of July and the 19th of August, the mean
temperature from 276 observations was 58.4°; the mean hottest day being
65.5°, and
the coldest 46°. The lowest point to which the thermometer fell was
41.5°, and occasionally in the middle of the day it rose to 69° or 70°.
Yet with this high temperature, almost every beetle, several genera of
spiders, snails, and land-shells, toads and lizards, were all lying
torpid beneath stones. But we have seen that at Bahia Blanca, which is
four degrees southward, and therefore with a climate only a very little
colder, this same temperature, with a rather less extreme heat, was
sufficient to awake all orders of animated beings. This shows how
nicely the stimulus required to arouse hybernating animals is governed
by the usual climate of the district, and not by the absolute heat. It
is well known that within the tropics the hybernation, or more properly
æstivation, of animals is determined not by the temperature, but by the
times of drought. Near Rio de Janeiro, I was at first surprised to
observe that, a few days after some little depressions had been filled
with water, they were peopled by numerous full-grown shells and
beetles, which must have been lying dormant. Humboldt has related the
strange accident of a hovel having been erected over a spot where a
young crocodile lay buried in the hardened
mud. He adds, “The Indians often find enormous boas, which they call
Uji, or water serpents, in the same lethargic state. To reanimate them,
they must be irritated or wetted with water.”
I will only mention one other animal, a zoophyte (I believe Virgularia
Patagonica), a kind of sea-pen. It consists of a thin, straight, fleshy
stem, with alternate rows of polypi on each side, and surrounding an
elastic stony axis, varying in length from eight inches to two feet.
The stem at one extremity is truncate, but at the other is terminated
by a vermiform fleshy appendage. The stony axis which gives strength to
the stem may be traced at this extremity into a mere vessel filled with
granular matter. At low water hundreds of these zoophytes might be
seen, projecting like stubble, with the truncate end upwards, a few
inches above the surface of the muddy sand. When touched or pulled they
suddenly drew themselves in with force, so as nearly or quite to
disappear. By this action, the highly elastic axis must be bent at the
lower extremity, where it is naturally slightly curved; and I imagine
it is by this elasticity alone that the zoophyte is enabled to rise
again through the mud. Each polypus, though closely united to its
brethren, has a distinct mouth, body, and tentacula. Of these polypi,
in a large specimen, there must be many thousands; yet we see that they
act by one movement: they have also one central axis connected with a
system of obscure circulation, and the ova are produced in an organ
distinct from the separate individuals.[18] Well may one be allowed to
ask, What is an individual? It is always interesting to discover the
foundation of the strange tales of the old voyagers; and I have no
doubt but that the habits of
this Virgularia explain one such case. Captain Lancaster, in his
Voyage[19] in 1601, narrates that on the sea-sands of the Island of
Sombrero, in the East Indies, he “found a small twig growing up like a
young tree, and on offering to pluck it up it shrinks down to the
ground, and sinks, unless held very hard. On being plucked up, a great
worm is found to be its root, and as the tree groweth in greatness, so
doth the worm diminish, and as soon as the worm is entirely turned into
a tree it rooteth in the earth, and so becomes great. This
transformation is one of the strangest wonders that I saw in all my
travels: for if this tree is plucked up, while young, and the leaves
and bark stripped off, it becomes a hard stone when dry, much like
white coral: thus is this worm twice transformed into different
natures. Of these we gathered and brought home many.”
[18] The cavities leading from the fleshy compartments of the
extremity were filled with a yellow pulpy matter, which, examined
under a microscope, presented an extraordinary appearance. The mass
consisted of rounded, semi-transparent, irregular grains, aggregated
together into particles of various sizes. All such particles, and the
separate grains, possessed the power of rapid movement; generally
revolving around different axes, but sometimes progressive. The
movement was visible with a very weak power, but even with the highest
its cause could not be perceived. It was very different from the
circulation of the fluid in the elastic bag, containing the thin
extremity of the axis. On other occasions, when dissecting small
marine animals beneath the microscope, I have seen particles of pulpy
matter, some of large size, as soon as they were disengaged, commence
revolving. I have imagined, I know not with how much truth, that this
granulo-pulpy matter was in process of being converted into ova.
Certainly in this zoophyte such appeared to be the case.
[19] Kerr’s _Collection of Voyages_, vol. viii, p. 119.
During my stay at Bahia Blanca, while waiting for the _ Beagle_, the
place was in a constant state of excitement, from rumours of wars and
victories, between the troops of Rosas and the wild Indians. One day an
account came that a small party forming one of the postas on the line
to Buenos Ayres had been found all murdered. The next day three hundred
men arrived from the Colorado, under the command of Commandant Miranda.
A large portion of these men were Indians (_mansos_, or tame),
belonging to the tribe of the Cacique Bernantio. They passed the night
here; and it was impossible to conceive anything more wild and savage
than the scene of their bivouac. Some drank till they were intoxicated;
others swallowed the steaming blood of the cattle slaughtered for their
suppers, and then, being sick from drunkenness, they cast it up again,
and were besmeared with filth and gore.
Nam simul expletus dapibus, vinoque sepultus
Cervicem inflexam posuit, jacuitque per antrum
Immensus, saniem eructans, ac frusta cruenta
Per somnum commixta mero.
In the morning they started for the scene of the murder, with orders to
follow the rastro, or track, even if it led them
to Chile. We subsequently heard that the wild Indians had escaped into
the great Pampas, and from some cause the track had been missed. One
glance at the rastro tells these people a whole history. Supposing they
examine the track of a thousand horses, they will soon guess the number
of mounted ones by seeing how many have cantered; by the depth of the
other impressions, whether any horses were loaded with cargoes; by the
irregularity of the footsteps, how far tired; by the manner in which
the food has been cooked, whether the pursued travelled in haste; by
the general appearance, how long it has been since they passed. They
consider a rastro of ten days or a fortnight quite recent enough to be
hunted out. We also heard that Miranda struck from the west end of the
Sierra Ventana, in a direct line to the island of Cholechel, situated
seventy leagues up the Rio Negro. This is a distance of between two and
three hundred miles, through a country completely unknown. What other
troops in the world are so independent? With the sun for their guide,
mare’s flesh for food, their saddle-cloths for beds,—as long as there
is a little water, these men would penetrate to the end of the world.
A few days afterwards I saw another troop of these banditti-like
soldiers start on an expedition against a tribe of Indians at the small
Salinas, who had been betrayed by a prisoner cacique. The Spaniard who
brought the orders for this expedition was a very intelligent man. He
gave me an account of the last engagement at which he was present. Some
Indians, who had been taken prisoners, gave information of a tribe
living north of the Colorado. Two hundred soldiers were sent; and they
first discovered the Indians by a cloud of dust from their horses’ feet
as they chanced to be travelling. The country was mountainous and wild,
and it must have been far in the interior, for the Cordillera were in
sight. The Indians, men, women, and children, were about one hundred
and ten in number, and they were nearly all taken or killed, for the
soldiers sabre every man. The Indians are now so terrified that they
offer no resistance in a body, but each flies, neglecting even his wife
and children; but when overtaken, like wild animals, they fight against
any number to the last moment. One dying Indian seized with his teeth
the thumb of his adversary,
and allowed his own eye to be forced out sooner than relinquish his
hold. Another, who was wounded, feigned death, keeping a knife ready to
strike one more fatal blow. My informer said, when he was pursuing an
Indian, the man cried out for mercy, at the same time that he was
covertly loosing the bolas from his waist, meaning to whirl it round
his head and so strike his pursuer. “I however struck him with my sabre
to the ground, and then got off my horse, and cut his throat with my
knife.” This is a dark picture; but how much more shocking is the
unquestionable fact, that all the women who appear above twenty years
old are massacred in cold blood? When I exclaimed that this appeared
rather inhuman, he answered, “Why, what can be done? they breed so!”
Every one here is fully convinced that this is the most just war,
because it is against barbarians. Who would believe in this age that
such atrocities could be committed in a Christian civilised country?
The children of the Indians are saved, to be sold or given away as
servants, or rather slaves for as long a time as the owners can make
them believe themselves slaves; but I believe in their treatment there
is little to complain of.
In the battle four men ran away together. They were pursued, one was
killed, and the other three were taken alive. They turned out to be
messengers or ambassadors from a large body of Indians, united in the
common cause of defence, near the Cordillera. The tribe to which they
had been sent was on the point of holding a grand council, the feast of
mare’s flesh was ready, and the dance prepared: in the morning the
ambassadors were to have returned to the Cordillera. They were
remarkably fine men, very fair, above six feet high, and all under
thirty years of age. The three survivors of course possessed very
valuable information and to extort this they were placed in a line. The
two first being questioned, answered, “No sé” (I do not know), and were
one after the other shot. The third also said “No sé;” adding, “Fire, I
am a man, and can die!” Not one syllable would they breathe to injure
the united cause of their country! The conduct of the above-mentioned
cacique was very different; he saved his life by betraying the intended
plan of warfare, and the point of union in the Andes. It was believed
that there were already six or
seven hundred Indians together, and that in summer their numbers would
be doubled. Ambassadors were to have been sent to the Indians at the
small Salinas, near Bahia Blanca, whom I have mentioned that this same
cacique had betrayed. The communication, therefore, between the
Indians, extends from the Cordillera to the coast of the Atlantic.
General Rosas’s plan is to kill all stragglers, and having driven the
remainder to a common point, to attack them in a body, in the summer,
with the assistance of the Chilenos. This operation is to be repeated
for three successive years. I imagine the summer is chosen as the time
for the main attack, because the plains are then without water, and the
Indians can only travel in particular directions. The escape of the
Indians to the south of the Rio Negro, where in such a vast unknown
country they would be safe, is prevented by a treaty with the
Tehuelches to this effect;—that Rosas pays them so much to slaughter
every Indian who passes to the south of the river, but if they fail in
so doing, they themselves are to be exterminated. The war is waged
chiefly against the Indians near the Cordillera; for many of the tribes
on this eastern side are fighting with Rosas. The general, however,
like Lord Chesterfield, thinking that his friends may in a future day
become his enemies, always places them in the front ranks, so that
their numbers may be thinned. Since leaving South America we have heard
that this war of extermination completely failed.
Among the captive girls taken in the same engagement, there were two
very pretty Spanish ones, who had been carried away by the Indians when
young, and could now only speak the Indian tongue. From their account
they must have come from Salta, a distance in a straight line of nearly
one thousand miles. This gives one a grand idea of the immense
territory over which the Indians roam: yet, great as it is, I think
there will not, in another half-century, be a wild Indian northward of
the Rio Negro. The warfare is too bloody to last; the Christians
killing every Indian, and the Indians doing the same by the Christians.
It is melancholy to trace how the Indians have given way before the
Spanish invaders. Schirdel[20] says that in 1535, when Buenos Ayres was
founded, there were villages
containing two and three thousand inhabitants. Even in Falconer’s time
(1750) the Indians made inroads as far as Luxan, Areco, and Arrecife,
but now they are driven beyond the Salado. Not only have whole tribes
been exterminated, but the remaining Indians have become more
barbarous: instead of living in large villages, and being employed in
the arts of fishing, as well as of the chase, they now wander about the
open plains, without home or fixed occupation.
[20] Purchas’s _Collection of Voyages._ I believe the date was really
1537.
I heard also some account of an engagement which took place, a few
weeks previously to the one mentioned, at Cholechel. This is a very
important station on account of being a pass for horses; and it was, in
consequence, for some time the head-quarters of a division of the army.
When the troops first arrived there they found a tribe of Indians, of
whom they killed twenty or thirty. The cacique escaped in a manner
which astonished every one. The chief Indians always have one or two
picked horses, which they keep ready for any urgent occasion. On one of
these, an old white horse, the cacique sprung, taking with him his
little son. The horse had neither saddle nor bridle. To avoid the
shots, the Indian rode in the peculiar method of his nation; namely,
with an arm round the horse’s neck, and one leg only on its back. Thus
hanging on one side, he was seen patting the horse’s head, and talking
to him. The pursuers urged every effort in the chase; the Commandant
three times changed his horse, but all in vain. The old Indian father
and his son escaped, and were free. What a fine picture one can form in
one’s mind,—the naked, bronze-like figure of the old man with his
little boy, riding like a Mazeppa on the white horse, thus leaving far
behind him the host of his pursuers!
I saw one day a soldier striking fire with a piece of flint, which I
immediately recognised as having been a part of the head of an arrow.
He told me it was found near the island of Cholechel, and that they are
frequently picked up there. It was between two and three inches long,
and therefore twice as large as those now used in Tierra del Fuego: it
was made of opaque cream-coloured flint, but the point and barbs had
been intentionally broken off. It is well known that no Pampas Indians
now use bows and arrows. I believe a small tribe in Banda Oriental must
be excepted; but
they are widely separated from the Pampas Indians, and border close on
those tribes that inhabit the forest, and live on foot. It appears,
therefore, that these arrow-heads are antiquarian[21] relics of the
Indians, before the great change in habits consequent on the
introduction of the horse into South America.
[21] Azara has even doubted whether the Pampas Indians ever used bows.
[Several similar agate arrow-heads have since been dug up at Chupat,
and two were given to me, on the occasion of my visit there, by the
Governor.—R. T. Pritchett, 1880.]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter VI
Set out for Buenos Ayres—Rio Sauce—Sierra Ventana—Third Posta—Driving
Horses—Bolas—Partridges and Foxes—Features of the Country—Long-legged
Plover—Teru-tero—Hail-storm—Natural Enclosures in the Sierra
Tapalguen—Flesh of Puma—Meat Diet—Guardia del Monte—Effects of Cattle
on the Vegetation—Cardoon—Buenos Ayres—Corral where Cattle are
slaughtered.
BAHIA BLANCA TO BUENOS AYRES.
_September_ 8_th._—I hired a Gaucho to accompany me on my ride to
Buenos Ayres, though with some difficulty, as the father of one man was
afraid to let him go, and another who seemed willing, was described to
me as so fearful that I was afraid to take him, for I was told that
even if he saw an ostrich at a distance, he would mistake it for an
Indian, and would fly like the wind away. The distance to Buenos Ayres
is about four hundred miles, and nearly the whole way through an
uninhabited country. We started early in the morning; ascending a few
hundred feet from the basin of green turf on which Bahia Blanca stands,
we entered on a wide desolate plain. It consists of a
crumbling argillaceo-calcareous rock, which, from the dry nature of the
climate, supports only scattered tufts of withered grass, without a
single bush or tree to break the monotonous uniformity. The weather was
fine, but the atmosphere remarkably hazy; I thought the appearance
foreboded a gale, but the Gauchos said it was owing to the plain, at
some great distance in the interior, being on fire. After a long
gallop, having changed horses twice, we reached the Rio Sauce: it is a
deep, rapid, little stream, not above twenty-five feet wide. The second
posta on the road to Buenos Ayres stands on its banks, a little above
there is a ford for horses, where the water does not reach to the
horses’ belly; but from that point, in its course to the sea, it is
quite impassable, and hence makes a most useful barrier against the
Indians.
Insignificant as this stream is, the Jesuit Falconer, whose information
is generally so very correct, figures it as a considerable river,
rising at the foot of the Cordillera. With respect to its source, I do
not doubt that this is the case; for the Gauchos assured me, that in
the middle of the dry summer this stream, at the same time with the
Colorado, has periodical floods, which can only originate in the snow
melting on the Andes. It is extremely improbable that a stream so small
as the Sauce then was should traverse the entire width of the
continent; and indeed, if it were the residue of a large river, its
waters, as in other ascertained cases, would be saline. During the
winter we must look to the springs round the Sierra Ventana as the
source of its pure and limpid stream. I suspect the plains of
Patagonia, like those of Australia, are traversed by many watercourses,
which only perform their proper parts at certain periods. Probably this
is the case with the water which flows into the head of Port Desire,
and likewise with the Rio Chupat, on the banks of which masses of
highly cellular scoriæ were found by the officers employed in the
survey.
As it was early in the afternoon when we arrived, we took fresh horses
and a soldier for a guide, and started for the Sierra de la Ventana.
This mountain is visible from the anchorage at Bahia Blanca; and
Captain Fitz Roy calculates its height to be 3340 feet—an altitude very
remarkable on this eastern side of the continent. I am not aware that
any
foreigner, previous to my visit, had ascended this mountain; and indeed
very few of the soldiers at Bahia Blanca knew anything about it. Hence
we heard of beds of coal, of gold and silver, of caves, and of forests,
all of which inflamed my curiosity, only to disappoint it. The distance
from the posta was about six leagues, over a level plain of the same
character as before. The ride was, however, interesting, as the
mountain began to show its true form. When we reached the foot of the
main ridge, we had much difficulty in finding any water, and we thought
we should have been obliged to have passed the night without any. At
last we discovered some by looking close to the mountain, for at the
distance even of a few hundred yards, the streamlets were buried and
entirely lost in the friable calcareous stone and loose detritus. I do
not think Nature ever made a more solitary, desolate pile of rock;—it
well deserves its name of _Hurtado_, or separated. The mountain is
steep, extremely rugged, and broken, and so entirely destitute of
trees, and even bushes, that we actually could not make a skewer to
stretch out our meat over the fire of thistle-stalks.[1] The strange
aspect of this mountain is contrasted by the sea-like plain, which not
only abuts against its steep sides, but likewise separates the parallel
ranges. The uniformity of the colouring gives an extreme quietness to
the view;—the whitish grey of the quartz rock, and the light brown of
the withered grass of the plain, being unrelieved by any brighter tint.
From custom one expects to see in the neighbourhood of a lofty and bold
mountain a broken country strewed over with huge fragments. Here Nature
shows that the last movement before the bed of the sea is changed into
dry land may sometimes be one of tranquillity. Under these
circumstances I was curious to observe how far from the parent rock any
pebbles could be found. On the shores of Bahia Blanca, and near the
settlement, there were some of quartz, which certainly must have come
from this source: the distance is forty-five miles.
[1] I call these thistle-stalks for the want of a more correct name. I
believe it is a species of Eryngium.
The dew, which in the early part of the night wetted the saddle-cloths
under which we slept, was in the morning frozen. The plain, though
appearing horizontal, had insensibly sloped
up to a height of between 800 and 900 feet above the sea. In the
morning (9th of September) the guide told me to ascend the nearest
ridge, which he thought would lead me to the four peaks that crown the
summit. The climbing up such rough rocks was very fatiguing; the sides
were so indented, that what was gained in one five minutes was often
lost in the next. At last, when I reached the ridge, my disappointment
was extreme in finding a precipitous valley as deep as the plain, which
cut the chain traversely in two, and separated me from the four points.
This valley is very narrow, but flat-bottomed, and it forms a fine
horse-pass for the Indians, as it connects the plains on the northern
and southern sides of the range. Having descended, and while crossing
it, I saw two horses grazing: I immediately hid myself in the long
grass, and began to reconnoitre; but as I could see no signs of Indians
I proceeded cautiously on my second ascent. It was late in the day, and
this part of the mountain, like the other, was steep and rugged. I was
on the top of the second peak by two o’clock, but got there with
extreme difficulty; every twenty yards I had the cramp in the upper
part of both thighs, so that I was afraid I should not have been able
to have got down again. It was also necessary to return by another
road, as it was out of the question to pass over the saddle-back. I was
therefore obliged to give up the two higher peaks. Their altitude was
but little greater, and every purpose of geology had been answered; so
that the attempt was not worth the hazard of any further exertion. I
presume the cause of the cramp was the great change in the kind of
muscular action, from that of hard riding to that of still harder
climbing. It is a lesson worth remembering, as in some cases it might
cause much difficulty.
I have already said the mountain is composed of white quartz rock, and
with it a little glossy clay-slate is associated. At the height of a
few hundred feet above the plain, patches of conglomerate adhered in
several places to the solid rock. They resembled in hardness, and in
the nature of the cement, the masses which may be seen daily forming on
some coasts. I do not doubt these pebbles were in a similar manner
aggregated, at a period when the great calcareous formation was
depositing beneath the surrounding sea. We may believe
that the jagged and battered forms of the hard quartz yet show the
effects of the waves of an open ocean.
I was, on the whole, disappointed with this ascent. Even the view was
insignificant;—a plain like the sea, but without its beautiful colour
and defined outline. The scene, however, was novel, and a little
danger, like salt to meat, gave it a relish. That the danger was very
little was certain, for my two companions made a good fire—a thing
which is never done when it is suspected that Indians are near. I
reached the place of our bivouac by sunset, and drinking much maté, and
smoking several cigaritos, soon made up my bed for the night. The wind
was very strong and cold, but I never slept more comfortably.
_September_ 10_th._—In the morning, having fairly scudded before the
gale, we arrived by the middle of the day at the Sauce posta. On the
road we saw great numbers of deer, and near the mountain a guanaco. The
plain, which abuts against the Sierra, is traversed by some curious
gulleys, of which one was about twenty feet wide, and at least thirty
deep; we were obliged in consequence to make a considerable circuit
before we could find a pass. We stayed the night at the posta, the
conversation, as was generally the case, being about the Indians. The
Sierra Ventana was formerly a great place of resort; and three or four
years ago there was much fighting there. My guide had been present when
many Indians were killed: the women escaped to the top of the ridge,
and fought most desperately with great stones; many thus saving
themselves.
_September_ 11_th._—Proceeded to the third posta in company with the
lieutenant who commanded it. The distance is called fifteen leagues;
but it is only guess-work, and is generally overstated. The road was
uninteresting, over a dry grassy plain; and on our left hand at a
greater or less distance there were some low hills; a continuation of
which we crossed close to the posta. Before our arrival we met a large
herd of cattle and horses, guarded by fifteen soldiers; but we were
told many had been lost. It is very difficult to drive animals across
the plains; for if in the night a puma, or even a fox, approaches,
nothing can prevent the horses dispersing in every direction; and a
storm will have the same effect. A short time since, an officer left
Buenos Ayres with five hundred horses, and when he arrived at the army
he had under twenty.
Soon afterwards we perceived by the cloud of dust, that a party of
horsemen were coming towards us; when far distant my companions knew
them to be Indians, by their long hair streaming behind their backs.
The Indians generally have a fillet round their heads, but never any
covering; and their black hair blowing across their swarthy faces,
heightens to an uncommon degree the wildness of their appearance. They
turned out to be a party of Bernantio’s friendly tribe, going to a
salina for salt. The Indians eat much salt, their children sucking it
like sugar. This habit is very different from that of the Spanish
Gauchos, who, leading the same kind of life, eat scarcely any:
according to Mungo Park,[2] it is people who live on vegetable food who
have an unconquerable desire for salt. The Indians gave us
good-humoured nods as they passed at full gallop, driving before them a
troop of horses, and followed by a train of lanky dogs.
[2] _Travels in Africa_, p. 233.
_September_ 12_th_ and 13_th._—I stayed at this posta two days, waiting
for a troop of soldiers, which General Rosas had the kindness to send
to inform me would shortly travel to Buenos Ayres; and he advised me to
take the opportunity of the escort. In the morning we rode to some
neighbouring hills to view the country, and to examine the geology.
After dinner the soldiers divided themselves into two parties for a
trial of skill with the bolas. Two spears were stuck in the ground
twenty-five yards apart, but they were struck and entangled only once
in four or five times. The balls can be thrown fifty or sixty yards,
but with little certainty. This, however, does not apply to a man on
horseback; for when the speed of the horse is added to the force of the
arm, it is said that they can be whirled with effect to the distance of
eighty yards. As a proof of their force, I may mention, that at the
Falkland Islands, when the Spaniards murdered some of their own
countrymen and all the Englishmen, a young friendly Spaniard was
running away, when a great tall man, by name Luciano,
came at full gallop after him, shouting to him to stop, and saying that
he only wanted to speak to him. Just as the Spaniard was on the point
of reaching the boat, Luciano threw the balls: they struck him on the
legs with such a jerk, as to throw him down and to render him for some
time insensible. The man, after Luciano had had his talk, was allowed
to escape. He told us that his legs were marked by great weals, where
the thong had wound round, as if he had been flogged with a whip. In
the middle of the day two men arrived, who brought a parcel from the
next posta to be forwarded to the general: so that besides these two,
our party consisted this evening of my guide and self, the lieutenant,
and his four soldiers. The latter were strange beings; the first a fine
young negro; the second half Indian and negro; and the two others
nondescripts; namely, an old Chilian miner, the colour of mahogany, and
another partly a mulatto; but two such mongrels, with such detestable
expressions, I never saw before. At night, when they were sitting round
the fire, and playing at cards, I retired to view such a Salvator Rosa
scene. They were seated under a low cliff, so that I could look down
upon them; around the party were lying dogs, arms, remnants of deer and
ostriches; and their long spears were stuck in the turf. Farther in the
dark background their horses were tied up, ready for any sudden danger.
If the stillness of the desolate plain was broken by one of the dogs
barking, a soldier, leaving the fire, would place his head close to the
ground, and thus slowly scan the horizon. Even if the noisy teru-tero
uttered its scream, there would be a pause in the conversation, and
every head, for a moment, a little inclined.
What a life of misery these men appear to us to lead! They were at
least ten leagues from the Sauce posta, and since the murder committed
by the Indians, twenty from another. The Indians are supposed to have
made their attack in the middle of the night; for very early in the
morning after the murder, they were luckily seen approaching this
posta. The whole party here, however, escaped, together with the troop
of horses; each one taking a line for himself, and driving with him as
many animals as he was able to manage.
The little hovel, built of thistle-stalks, in which they slept,
neither kept out the wind nor rain; indeed in the latter case the only
effect the roof had, was to condense it into larger drops. They had
nothing to eat excepting what they could catch, such as ostriches,
deer, armadilloes, etc., and their only fuel was the dry stalks of a
small plant, somewhat resembling an aloe. The sole luxury which these
men enjoyed was smoking the little paper cigars, and sucking maté. I
used to think that the carrion vultures, man’s constant attendants on
these dreary plains, while seated on the little neighbouring cliffs,
seemed by their very patience to say, “Ah! when the Indians come we
shall have a feast.”
[Illustration]
In the morning we all sallied forth to hunt, and although we had not
much success, there were some animated chases. Soon after starting the
party separated, and so arranged their plans, that at a certain time of
the day (in guessing which they show much skill) they should all meet
from different points of the compass on a plain piece of ground, and
thus drive together the wild animals. One day I went out hunting at
Bahia Blanca, but the men there merely rode in a crescent, each being
about
a quarter of a mile apart from the other. A fine male ostrich being
turned by the headmost riders, tried to escape on one side. The Gauchos
pursued at a reckless pace, twisting their horses about with the most
admirable command, and each man whirling the balls round his head. At
length the foremost threw them, revolving through the air: in an
instant the ostrich rolled over and over, its legs fairly lashed
together by the thong.
The plains abound with three kinds of partridge,[3] two of which are as
large as hen pheasants. Their destroyer, a small and pretty fox, was
also singularly numerous; in the course of the day we could not have
seen less than forty or fifty. They were generally near their earths,
but the dogs killed one. When we returned to the posta, we found two of
the party returned who had been hunting by themselves. They had killed
a puma, and had found an ostrich’s nest with twenty-seven eggs in it.
Each of these is said to equal in weight eleven hens’ eggs; so that we
obtained from this one nest as much food as 297 hens’ eggs would have
given.
[3] Two species of Tinamus and _Eudromia elegans_ of A. d’Orbigny,
which can only be called a partridge with regard to its habits.
_September_ 14_th._—As the soldiers belonging to the next posta meant to
return, and we should together make a party of five, and all armed, I
determined not to wait for the expected troops. My host, the
lieutenant, pressed me much to stop. As he had been very obliging—not
only providing me with food, but lending me his private horses—I wanted
to make him some remuneration. I asked my guide whether I might do so,
but he told me certainly not; that the only answer I should receive
probably would be, “We have meat for the dogs in our country, and
therefore do not grudge it to a Christian.” It must not be supposed
that the rank of lieutenant in such an army would at all prevent the
acceptance of payment: it was only the high sense of hospitality, which
every traveller is bound to acknowledge as nearly universal throughout
these provinces. After galloping some leagues, we came to a low swampy
country, which extends for nearly eighty miles northward, as far as the
Sierra Tapalguen. In some parts there were fine damp plains, covered
with grass, while others had a soft, black, and peaty soil. There
were also many extensive but shallow lakes, and large beds of reeds.
The country on the whole resembled the better parts of the
Cambridgeshire fens. At night we had some difficulty in finding, amidst
the swamps, a dry place for our bivouac.
_September_ 15_th._—Rose very early in the morning, and shortly after
passed the posta where the Indians had murdered the five soldiers. The
officer had eighteen chuzo wounds in his body. By the middle of the
day, after a hard gallop, we reached the fifth posta: on account of
some difficulty in procuring horses we stayed there the night. As this
point was the most exposed on the whole line, twenty-one soldiers were
stationed here; at sunset they returned from hunting, bringing with
them seven deer, three ostriches, and many armadilloes and partridges.
When riding through the country, it is a common practice to set fire to
the plain; and hence at night, as on this occasion, the horizon was
illuminated in several places by brilliant conflagrations. This is done
partly for the sake of puzzling any stray Indians, but chiefly for
improving the pasture. In grassy plains unoccupied by the larger
ruminating quadrupeds, it seems necessary to remove the superfluous
vegetation by fire, so as to render the new year’s growth serviceable.
The rancho at this place did not boast even of a roof, but merely
consisted of a ring of thistle-stalks, to break the force of the wind.
It was situated on the borders of an extensive but shallow lake,
swarming with wild fowl, among which the black-necked swan was
conspicuous.
The kind of plover which appears as if mounted on stilts (Himantopus
nigricollis), is here common in flocks of considerable size. It has
been wrongfully accused of inelegance; when wading about in shallow
water, which is its favourite resort, its gait is far from awkward.
These birds in a flock utter a noise, that singularly resembles the cry
of a pack of small dogs in full chase: waking in the night, I have more
than once been for a moment startled at the distant sound. The
teru-tero (Vanellus cayanus) is another bird which often disturbs the
stillness of the night. In appearance and habits it resembles in many
respects our peewits; its wings, however, are armed with sharp spurs,
like those on the legs of the common cock. As our peewit takes its name
from the sound of its voice,
so does the teru-tero. While riding over the grassy plains, one is
constantly pursued by these birds, which appear to hate mankind, and I
am sure deserve to be hated for their never-ceasing, unvaried, harsh
screams. To the sportsman they are most annoying, by telling every
other bird and animal of his approach: to the traveller in the country
they may possibly, as Molina says, do good, by warning him of the
midnight robber. During the breeding season, they attempt, like our
peewits, by feigning to be wounded, to draw away from their nests dogs
and other enemies. The eggs of this bird are esteemed a great delicacy.
_September_ 16_th._—To the seventh posta at the foot of the Sierra
Tapalguen. The country was quite level, with a coarse herbage and a
soft peaty soil. The hovel was here remarkably neat, the posts and
rafters being made of about a dozen dry thistle-stalks bound together
with thongs of hide; and by the support of these Ionic-like columns,
the roof and sides were thatched with reeds. We were here told a fact,
which I would not have credited, if I had not had partly ocular proof
of it; namely, that, during the previous night, hail as large as small
apples, and extremely hard, had fallen with such violence as to kill
the greater number of the wild animals. One of the men had already
found thirteen deer (Cervus campestris) lying dead, and I saw their
_fresh_ hides; another of the party, a few minutes after my arrival,
brought in seven more. Now I well know, that one man without dogs could
hardly have killed seven deer in a week. The men believed they had seen
about fifteen dead ostriches (part of one of which we had for dinner);
and they said that several were running about evidently blind in one
eye. Numbers of smaller birds, as ducks, hawks, and partridges, were
killed. I saw one of the latter with a black mark on its back, as if it
had been struck with a paving-stone. A fence of thistle-stalks round
the hovel was nearly broken down, and my informer, putting his head out
to see what was the matter, received a severe cut, and now wore a
bandage. The storm was said to have been of limited extent: we
certainly saw from our last night’s bivouac a dense cloud and lightning
in this direction. It is marvellous how such strong animals as deer
could thus have been killed; but I have no doubt, from the evidence I
have
given, that the story is not in the least exaggerated. I am glad,
however, to have its credibility supported by the Jesuit
Dobrizhoffer,[4] who, speaking of a country much to the northward,
says, hail fell of an enormous size and killed vast numbers of cattle:
the Indians hence called the place _Lalegraicavalca_, meaning “the
little white things.” Dr. Malcolmson, also, informs me that he
witnessed in 1831 in India a hail-storm, which killed numbers of large
birds and much injured the cattle. These hail-stones were flat, and one
was ten inches in circumference, and another weighed two ounces. They
ploughed up a gravel-walk like musket-balls, and passed through
glass-windows, making round holes, but not cracking them.
[4] _History of the Abipones_, vol. ii, p. 6.
Having finished our dinner of hail-stricken meat, we crossed the Sierra
Tapalguen; a low range of hills, a few hundred feet in height, which
commences at Cape Corrientes. The rock in this part is pure quartz;
farther eastward I understand it is granitic. The hills are of a
remarkable form; they consist of flat patches of table-land, surrounded
by low perpendicular cliffs, like the outliers of a sedimentary
deposit. The hill which I ascended was very small, not above a couple
of hundred yards in diameter; but I saw others larger. One which goes
by the name of the “Corral,” is said to be two or three miles in
diameter, and encompassed by perpendicular cliffs between thirty and
forty feet high, excepting at one spot, where the entrance lies.
Falconer[5] gives a curious account of the Indians driving troops of
wild horses into it, and then by guarding the entrance keeping them
secure. I have never heard of any other instance of table-land in a
formation of quartz, and which, in the hill I examined, had neither
cleavage nor stratification. I was told that the rock of the “Corral”
was white, and would strike fire.
[5] Falconer’s _Patagonia_, p. 70.
We did not reach the posta on the Rio Tapalguen till after it was dark.
At supper, from something which was said, I was suddenly struck with
horror at thinking that I was eating one of the favourite dishes of the
country, namely, a half formed calf, long before its proper time of
birth. It turned out to be Puma; the meat is very white, and remarkably
like veal in taste. Dr. Shaw was laughed at for stating that “the flesh
of the lion is
in great esteem, having no small affinity with veal, both in colour,
taste, and flavour.” Such certainly is the case with the Puma. The
Gauchos differ in their opinion whether the Jaguar is good eating, but
are unanimous in saying that cat is excellent.
_September_ 17_th._—We followed the course of the Rio Tapalguen,
through a very fertile country, to the ninth posta. Tapalguen itself,
or the town of Tapalguen, if it may be so called, consists of a
perfectly level plain, studded over, as far as the eye can reach, with
the toldos, or oven-shaped huts of the Indians. The families of the
friendly Indians, who were fighting on the side of Rosas, resided here.
We met and passed many young Indian women, riding by two or three
together on the same horse: they, as well as many of the young men,
were strikingly handsome,—their fine ruddy complexions being the
picture of health. Besides the toldos, there were three ranchos; one
inhabited by the Commandant, and the two others by Spaniards with small
shops.
We were here able to buy some biscuit. I had now been several days
without tasting anything besides meat: I did not at all dislike this
new regimen; but I felt as if it would only have agreed with me with
hard exercise. I have heard that patients in England, when desired to
confine themselves exclusively to an animal diet, even with the hope of
life before their eyes, have hardly been able to endure it. Yet the
Gaucho in the Pampas, for months together, touches nothing but beef.
But they eat, I observe, a very large proportion of fat, which is of a
less animalised nature; and they particularly dislike dry meat, such as
that of the Agouti. Dr. Richardson,[6] also, has remarked, “that when
people have fed for a long time solely upon lean animal food, the
desire for fat becomes so insatiable, that they can consume a large
quantity of unmixed and even oily fat without nausea:” this appears to
me a curious physiological fact. It is, perhaps, from their meat
regimen that the Gauchos, like other carnivorous animals, can abstain
long from food. I was told that at Tandeel some troops voluntarily
pursued a party of Indians for three days, without eating or drinking.
[6] _Fauna Boreali-Americana_, vol. i, p. 35.
We saw in the shops many articles, such as horsecloths, belts, and
garters, woven by the Indian women. The patterns were very pretty, and
the colours brilliant; the workmanship of the garters was so good that
an English merchant at Buenos Ayres maintained they must have been
manufactured in England, till he found the tassels had been fastened by
split sinew.
_September_ 18_th._—We had a very long ride this day. At the twelfth
posta, which is seven leagues south of the Rio Salado, we came to the
first estancia with cattle and white women. Afterwards we had to ride
for many miles through a country flooded with water above our horses’
knees. By crossing the stirrups, and riding Arab-like with our legs
bent up, we contrived to keep tolerably dry. It was nearly dark when we
arrived at the Salado; the stream was deep, and about forty yards wide;
in summer, however, its bed becomes almost dry, and the little
remaining water nearly as salt as that of the sea. We slept at one of
the great estancias of General Rosas. It was fortified, and of such an
extent, that arriving in the dark I thought it was a town and fortress.
In the morning we saw immense herds of cattle, the general here having
seventy-four square leagues of land. Formerly nearly three hundred men
were employed about this estate, and they defied all the attacks of the
Indians.
_September_ 19_th._—Passed the Guardia del Monte. This is a nice
scattered little town, with many gardens, full of peach and quince
trees. The plain here looked like that around Buenos Ayres; the turf
being short and bright green, with beds of clover and thistles, and
with bizcacha holes. I was very much struck with the marked change in
the aspect of the country after having crossed the Salado. From a
coarse herbage we passed on to a carpet of fine green verdure. I at
first attributed this to some change in the nature of the soil, but the
inhabitants assured me that here, as well as in Banda Oriental, where
there is as great a difference between the country around Monte Video
and the thinly-inhabited savannahs of Colonia, the whole was to be
attributed to the manuring and grazing of the cattle. Exactly the same
fact has been observed in the prairies[7] of
North America, where coarse grass, between five and six feet high, when
grazed by cattle, changes into common pasture land. I am not botanist
enough to say whether the change here is owing to the introduction of
new species, to the altered growth of the same, or to a difference in
their proportional numbers. Azara has also observed with astonishment
this change: he is likewise much perplexed by the immediate appearance
of plants not occurring in the neighbourhood, on the borders of any
track that leads to a newly-constructed hovel. In another part he
says,[8] “Ces chevaux (sauvages) ont la manie de préférer les chemins,
et le bord des routes pour déposer leurs excrémens, dont on trouve des
monceaux dans ces endroits.” Does this not partly explain the
circumstance? We thus have lines of richly manured land serving as
channels of communication across wide districts.
[7] See Mr. Atwater’s “Account of the Prairies,” in _Silliman’s North
American Journal_, vol. i, p. 117.
[8] Azara’s _Voyage_, vol. i, p. 373.
[Illustration]
Near the Guardia we find the southern limit of two European plants, now
become extraordinarily common. The fennel in great profusion covers the
ditch-banks in the neighbourhood of Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, and
other towns. But the cardoon (Cynara cardunculus)[9] has a far wider
range: it occurs in these latitudes on both sides of the Cordillera,
across the continent. I saw it in unfrequented spots in Chile, Entre
Rios, and Banda Oriental. In the latter country alone, very many
(probably several hundred) square miles are covered by one mass of
these prickly plants, and are impenetrable by man or beast. Over the
undulating plains, where these great beds occur, nothing else can now
live. Before their introduction, however, the surface must have
supported, as in other parts, a rank herbage. I doubt whether any case
is on record of an invasion on so grand a scale of one plant over the
aborigines. As I have already said, I nowhere saw the cardoon south of
the Salado; but it is
probable that in proportion as that country becomes inhabited, the
cardoon will extend its limits. The case is different with the giant
thistle (with variegated leaves) of the Pampas, for I met with it in
the valley of the Sauce. According to the principles so well laid down
by Mr. Lyell, few countries have undergone more remarkable changes,
since the year 1535, when the first colonist of La Plata landed with
seventy-two horses. The countless herds of horses, cattle, and sheep,
not only have altered the whole aspect of the vegetation, but they have
almost banished the guanaco, deer, and ostrich. Numberless other
changes must likewise have taken place; the wild pig in some parts
probably replaces the peccari; packs of wild dogs may be heard howling
on the wooded banks of the less-frequented streams; and the common cat,
altered into a large and fierce animal, inhabits rocky hills. As M.
d’Orbigny has remarked, the increase in numbers of the carrion-vulture,
since the introduction of the domestic animals, must have been
infinitely great; and we have given reasons for believing that they
have extended their southern range. No doubt many plants, besides the
cardoon and fennel, are naturalised; thus the islands near the mouth of
the Parana are thickly clothed with peach and orange trees, springing
from seeds carried there by the waters of the river.
[9] M. A. d’Orbigny (vol. i, p. 474) says that the cardoon and
artichoke are both found wild. Dr. Hooker (_Botanical Magazine_, vol.
lv. p. 2862) has described a variety of the Cynara from this part of
South America under the name of inermis. He states that botanists are
now generally agreed that the cardoon and the artichoke are varieties
of one plant. I may add, that an intelligent farmer assured me that he
had observed in a deserted garden some artichokes changing into the
common cardoon. Dr. Hooker believes that Head’s vivid description of
the thistle of the Pampas applies to the cardoon, but this is a
mistake. Captain Head referred to the plant which I have mentioned a
few lines lower down under the title of giant thistle. Whether it is a
true thistle, I do not know; but it is quite different from the
cardoon; and more like a thistle properly so called.
While changing horses at the Guardia several people questioned us much
about the army,—I never saw anything like the enthusiasm for Rosas, and
for the success of the “most just of all wars, because against
barbarians.” This expression, it must be confessed, is very natural,
for till lately, neither man, woman, nor horse was safe from the
attacks of the Indians. We had a long day’s ride over the same rich
green plain, abounding with various flocks, and with here and there a
solitary estancia, and its one _ombu_ tree. In the evening it rained
heavily: on arriving at a post-house we were told by the owner that if
we had not a regular passport we must pass on, for there were so many
robbers he would trust no one. When he read, however, my passport,
which began with “El Naturalista Don Carlos,” his respect and civility
were as unbounded as his suspicions had been before. What a naturalist
might be, neither he nor his countrymen, I suspect, had any idea; but
probably my title lost nothing of its value from that cause.
_September_ 20_th._—We arrived by the middle of the day at Buenos
Ayres. The outskirts of the city looked quite pretty, with the agave
hedges, and groves of olive, peach and willow trees, all just throwing
out their fresh green leaves. I rode to the house of Mr. Lumb, an
English merchant, to whose kindness and hospitality, during my stay in
the country, I was greatly indebted.
The city of Buenos Ayres is large;[10] and I should think one of the
most regular in the world. Every street is at right angles to the one
it crosses, and the parallel ones being equidistant, the houses are
collected into solid squares of equal dimensions, which are called
quadras. On the other hand, the houses themselves are hollow squares;
all the rooms opening into a neat little courtyard. They are generally
only one story high, with flat roofs, which are fitted with seats, and
are much frequented by the inhabitants in summer. In the centre of the
town is the Plaza, where the public offices, fortress, cathedral, etc.,
stand. Here also, the old viceroys, before the revolution, had their
palaces. The general assemblage of buildings possesses considerable
architectural beauty, although none individually can boast of any.
[10] It is said to contain 60,000 inhabitants. Monte Video, the second
town of importance on the banks of the Plata, has 15,000.
The great _corral_, where the animals are kept for slaughter to supply
food to this beef-eating population, is one of the spectacles best
worth seeing. The strength of the horse as compared to that of the
bullock is quite astonishing: a man on horseback having thrown his lazo
round the horns of a beast, can drag it anywhere he chooses. The animal
ploughing up the ground with outstretched legs, in vain efforts to
resist the force, generally dashes at full speed to one side; but the
horse, immediately turning to receive the shock, stands so firmly that
the bullock is almost thrown down, and it is surprising that their
necks are not broken. The struggle is not, however, one of fair
strength; the horse’s girth being matched against the bullock’s
extended neck. In a similar manner a man can hold the wildest horse, if
caught with the lazo, just behind the ears. When the bullock has been
dragged to the spot where it is to be slaughtered, the _matador_ with
great caution cuts the hamstrings. Then is given the death
bellow; a noise more expressive of fierce agony than any I know. I have
often distinguished it from a long distance, and have always known that
the struggle was then drawing to a close. The whole sight is horrible
and revolting: the ground is almost made of bones; and the horses and
riders are drenched with gore.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter VII
Excursion to St. Fé—Thistle Beds—Habits of the Bizcacha—Little
Owl—Saline Streams—Level Plains—Mastodon—St. Fé—Change in
Landscape—Geology—Tooth of extinct Horse—Relation of the Fossil and
recent Quadrupeds of North and South America—Effects of a great
Drought—Parana—Habits of the Jaguar—Scissor-beak—Kingfisher, Parrot,
and Scissor-tail—Revolution—Buenos Ayres—State of Government.
BUENOS AYRES TO ST. FÉ.
_September_ 27_th._—In the evening I set out on an excursion to St. Fé,
which is situated nearly three hundred English miles from Buenos Ayres,
on the banks of the Parana. The roads in the neighbourhood of the city,
after the rainy weather, were extraordinarily bad. I should never have
thought it possible for a bullock waggon to have crawled along: as it
was, they scarcely went at the rate of a mile an hour, and a man was
kept ahead, to survey the best line for making the attempt. The
bullocks were terribly jaded: it is a great mistake to suppose that
with improved roads, and an accelerated rate of travelling, the
sufferings of the animals increase in the same
proportion. We passed a train of waggons and a troop of beasts on their
road to Mendoza. The distance is about 580 geographical miles, and the
journey is generally performed in fifty days. These waggons are very
long, narrow, and thatched with reeds; they have only two wheels, the
diameter of which in some cases is as much as ten feet. Each is drawn
by six bullocks, which are urged on by a goad at least twenty feet
long: this is suspended from within the roof; for the wheel bullocks a
smaller one is kept; and for the intermediate pair, a point projects at
right angles from the middle of the long one. The whole apparatus
looked like some implement of war.
_September_ 28_th._—We passed the small town of Luxan, where there is a
wooden bridge over the river—a most unusual convenience in this
country. We passed also Areco. The plains appeared level, but were not
so in fact; for in various places the horizon was distant. The
estancias are here wide apart; for there is little good pasture, owing
to the land being covered by beds either of an acrid clover, or of the
great thistle. The latter, well known from the animated description
given by Sir F. Head, were at this time of the year two-thirds grown;
in some parts they were as high as the horse’s back, but in others they
had not yet sprung up, and the ground was bare and dusty as on a
turnpike-road. The clumps were of the most brilliant green, and they
made a pleasing miniature-likeness of broken forest land. When the
thistles are full grown, the great beds are impenetrable, except by a
few tracks, as intricate as those in a labyrinth. These are only known
to the robbers, who at this season inhabit them, and sally forth at
night to rob and cut throats with impunity. Upon asking at a house
whether robbers were numerous, I was answered, “The thistles are not up
yet;”—the meaning of which reply was not at first very obvious. There
is little interest in passing over these tracts, for they are inhabited
by few animals or birds, excepting the bizcacha and its friend the
little owl.
The bizcacha[1] is well known to form a prominent feature in the
zoology of the Pampas. It is found as far south as the
Rio Negro, in lat. 41°, but not beyond. It cannot, like the agouti,
subsist on the gravelly and desert plains of Patagonia, but prefers a
clayey or sandy soil, which produces a different and more abundant
vegetation. Near Mendoza, at the foot of the Cordillera, it occurs in
close neighbourhood with the allied alpine species. It is a very
curious circumstance in its geographical distribution, that it has
never been seen, fortunately for the inhabitants of Banda Oriental, to
the eastward of the river Uruguay: yet in this province there are
plains which appear admirably adapted to its habits. The Uruguay has
formed an insuperable obstacle to its migration: although the broader
barrier of the Parana has been passed, and the bizcacha is common in
Entre Rios, the province between these two great rivers. Near Buenos
Ayres these animals are exceedingly common. Their most favourite resort
appears to be those parts of the plain which during one half of the
year are covered with giant thistles, to the exclusion of other plants.
The Gauchos affirm that it lives on roots; which, from the great
strength of its gnawing teeth, and the kind of places frequented by it,
seems probable. In the evening the bizcachas come out in numbers, and
quietly sit at the mouths of their burrows on their haunches. At such
times they are very tame, and a man on horseback passing by seems only
to present an object for their grave contemplation. They run very
awkwardly, and when running out of danger, from their elevated tails
and short front legs, much resemble great rats. Their flesh, when
cooked, is very white and good, but it is seldom used.
[1] The bizcacha (Lagostomus trichodactylus) somewhat resembles a
large rabbit, but with bigger gnawing teeth and a long tail; it has,
however, only three toes behind, like the agouti. During the last
three or four years the skins of these animals have been sent to
England for the sake of the fur.
The bizcacha has one very singular habit; namely, dragging every hard
object to the mouth of its burrow: around each group of holes many
bones of cattle, stones, thistle-stalks, hard lumps of earth, dry dung,
etc., are collected into an irregular heap, which frequently amounts to
as much as a wheelbarrow would contain. I was credibly informed that a
gentleman, when riding on a dark night, dropped his watch; he returned
in the morning, and by searching the neighbourhood of every bizcacha
hole on the line of road, as he expected, he soon found it. This habit
of picking up whatever may be lying on the ground anywhere near its
habitation must cost much trouble. For what purpose it is done, I am
quite unable to form even the most remote conjecture: it cannot be for
defence, because the rubbish is chiefly placed above the mouth of the
burrow, which enters the ground at a very small inclination. No doubt
there must exist some good reason; but the inhabitants of the country
are quite ignorant of it. The only fact which I know analogous to it,
is the habit of that extraordinary Australian bird, the Calodera
maculata, which makes an elegant vaulted passage of twigs for playing
in, and which collects near the spot land and sea-shells, bones, and
the feathers of birds, especially brightly coloured ones. Mr. Gould,
who has described these facts, informs me, that the natives, when they
lose any hard object, search the playing passages, and he has known a
tobacco-pipe thus recovered.
The little owl (Athene cunicularia), which has been so often mentioned,
on the plains of Buenos Ayres exclusively inhabits the holes of the
bizcacha; but in Banda Oriental it is its own workman. During the open
day, but more especially in the evening, these birds may be seen in
every direction standing frequently by pairs on the hillock near their
burrows. If disturbed they either enter the hole, or, uttering a shrill
harsh cry, move with a remarkably undulatory flight to a short
distance, and then turning round, steadily gaze at their pursuer.
Occasionally in the evening they may be heard hooting. I found in the
stomachs of two which I opened the remains of mice, and I one day saw a
small snake killed and carried away. It is said that snakes are their
common prey during the daytime. I may here mention, as showing on what
various kinds of food owls subsist, that a species killed among the
islets of the Chonos Archipelago had its stomach full of good-sized
crabs. In India[2] there is a fishing genus of owls, which likewise
catches crabs.
[2] _Journal of Asiatic Soc._, vol. v, p. 363.
In the evening we crossed the Rio Arrecife on a simple raft made of
barrels lashed together, and slept at the post-house on the other side.
I this day paid horse-hire for thirty-one leagues; and although the sun
was glaring hot I was but little fatigued. When Captain Head talks of
riding fifty leagues a day, I do not imagine the distance is equal to
150 English miles. At all events, the thirty-one leagues was only 76
miles in a straight line, and in an open country I should think four
additional miles for turnings would be a sufficient allowance.
29_th and_ 30_th._—We continued to ride over plains of the same
character. At San Nicolas I first saw the noble river of the Parana. At
the foot of the cliff on which the town stands, some large vessels were
at anchor. Before arriving at Rozario, we crossed the Saladillo, a
stream of fine clear running water, but too saline to drink. Rozario is
a large town built on a dead level plain, which forms a cliff about
sixty feet high over the Parana. The river here is very broad, with
many islands, which are low and wooded, as is also the opposite shore.
The view would resemble that of a great lake, if it were not for the
linear-shaped islets, which alone give the idea of running water. The
cliffs are the most picturesque part; sometimes they are absolutely
perpendicular, and of a red colour; at other times in large broken
masses, covered with cacti and mimosa-trees. The real grandeur,
however, of an immense river like this is derived from reflecting how
important a means of communication and commerce it forms between one
nation and another; to what a distance it travels, and from how vast a
territory it drains the great body of fresh water which flows past your
feet.
[Illustration]
For many leagues north and south of San Nicolas and Rozario, the
country is really level. Scarcely anything which travellers have
written about its extreme flatness can be
considered as exaggeration. Yet I could never find a spot where, by
slowly turning round, objects were not seen at greater distances in
some directions than in others; and this manifestly proves inequality
in the plain. At sea, a person’s eye being six feet above the surface
of the water, his horizon is two miles and four-fifths distant. In like
manner, the more level the plain, the more nearly does the horizon
approach within these narrow limits; and this, in my opinion, entirely
destroys that grandeur which one would have imagined that a vast level
plain would have possessed.
[Illustration]
_October_ 1_st._—We started by moonlight and arrived at the Rio Tercero
by sunrise. This river is also called the Saladillo, and it deserves
the name, for the water is brackish. I stayed here the greater part of
the day, searching for fossil bones. Besides a perfect tooth of the
Toxodon, and many scattered bones, I found two immense skeletons near
each other, projecting in bold relief from the perpendicular cliff of
the Parana. They were, however, so completely decayed, that I could
only bring away small fragments of one of the great molar teeth; but
these are sufficient to show that the remains belonged to a Mastodon,
probably to the same species with that which formerly must have
inhabited the Cordillera in Upper Peru in such great numbers. The men
who took me in the canoe said
they had long known of these skeletons, and had often wondered how they
had got there: the necessity of a theory being felt, they came to the
conclusion that, like the bizcacha, the mastodon was formerly a
burrowing animal! In the evening we rode another stage, and crossed the
Monge, another brackish stream, bearing the dregs of the washings of
the Pampas.
_October_ 2_nd._—We passed through Corunda, which, from the luxuriance
of its gardens, was one of the prettiest villages I saw. From this
point to St. Fé the road is not very safe. The western side of the
Parana northward ceases to be inhabited; and hence the Indians
sometimes come down thus far, and waylay travellers. The nature of the
country also favours this, for instead of a grassy plain, there is an
open woodland, composed of low prickly mimosas. We passed some houses
that had been ransacked and since deserted; we saw also a spectacle,
which my guides viewed with high satisfaction; it was the skeleton of
an Indian with the dried skin hanging on the bones, suspended to the
branch of a tree.
In the morning we arrived at St. Fé. I was surprised to observe how
great a change of climate a difference of only three degrees of
latitude between this place and Buenos Ayres had caused. This was
evident from the dress and complexion of the men—from the increased
size of the ombu-trees—the number of new cacti and other plants—and
especially from the birds. In the course of an hour I remarked
half-a-dozen birds, which I had never seen at Buenos Ayres. Considering
that there is no natural boundary between the two places, and that the
character of the country is nearly similar, the difference was much
greater than I should have expected.
_October_ 3_rd and_ 4_th._—I was confined for these two days to my bed
by a headache. A good-natured old woman, who attended me, wished me to
try many odd remedies. A common practice is, to bind an orange-leaf or
a bit of black plaster to each temple: and a still more general plan
is, to split a bean into halves, moisten them, and place one on each
temple, where they will easily adhere. It is not thought proper ever to
remove the beans or plaster, but to allow them to drop off, and
sometimes, if a man, with patches on his head, is asked, what is the
matter? he will answer, “I had a headache the day before yesterday.”
Many of the remedies used by the people
of the country are ludicrously strange, but too disgusting to be
mentioned. One of the least nasty is to kill and cut open two puppies
and bind them on each side of a broken limb. Little hairless dogs are
in great request to sleep at the feet of invalids.
St. Fé is a quiet little town, and is kept clean and in good order. The
governor, Lopez, was a common soldier at the time of the revolution;
but has now been seventeen years in power. This stability of government
is owing to his tyrannical habits; for tyranny seems as yet better
adapted to these countries than republicanism. The governor’s favourite
occupation is hunting Indians: a short time since he slaughtered
forty-eight, and sold the children at the rate of three or four pounds
apiece.
_October_ 5_th._—We crossed the Parana to St. Fé Bajada, a town on the
opposite shore. The passage took some hours, as the river here
consisted of a labyrinth of small streams, separated by low wooded
islands. I had a letter of introduction to an old Catalonian Spaniard,
who treated me with the most uncommon hospitality. The Bajada is the
capital of Entre Rios. In 1825 the town contained 6000 inhabitants, and
the province 30,000; yet, few as the inhabitants are, no province has
suffered more from bloody and desperate revolutions. They boast here of
representatives, ministers, a standing army, and governors: so it is no
wonder that they have their revolutions. At some future day this must
be one of the richest countries of La Plata. The soil is varied and
productive; and its almost insular form gives it two grand lines of
communication by the rivers Parana and Uruguay.
I was delayed here five days, and employed myself in examining the
geology of the surrounding country, which was very interesting. We here
see at the bottom of the cliffs, beds containing sharks’ teeth and
sea-shells of extinct species, passing above into an indurated marl,
and from that into the red clayey earth of the Pampas, with its
calcareous concretions and the bones of terrestrial quadrupeds. This
vertical section clearly tells us of a large bay of pure salt-water,
gradually encroached on, and at last converted into the bed of a muddy
estuary, into which floating carcasses were swept. At Punta Gorda, in
Banda Oriental, I found an alternation of the Pampæan estuary deposit,
with a limestone containing some of the same extinct sea-shells; and
this shows either a change in the former currents, or more probably an
oscillation of level in the bottom of the ancient estuary. Until
lately, my reasons for considering the Pampæan formation to be an
estuary deposit were, its general appearance, its position at the mouth
of the existing great river the Plata, and the presence of so many
bones of terrestrial quadrupeds: but now Professor Ehrenberg has had
the kindness to examine for me a little of the red earth, taken from
low down in the deposit, close to the skeletons of the mastodon, and he
finds in it many infusoria, partly salt-water and partly fresh-water
forms, with the latter rather preponderating; and therefore, as he
remarks, the water must have been brackish. M. A. d’Orbigny found on
the banks of the Parana, at the height of a hundred feet, great beds of
an estuary shell, now living a hundred miles lower down nearer the sea;
and I found similar shells at a less height on the banks of the
Uruguay; this shows that just before the Pampas was slowly elevated
into dry land, the water covering it was brackish. Below Buenos Ayres
there are upraised beds of sea-shells of existing species, which also
proves that the period of elevation of the Pampas was within the recent
period.
In the Pampæan deposit at the Bajada I found the osseous armour of a
gigantic armadillo-like animal, the inside of which, when the earth was
removed, was like a great cauldron; I found also teeth of the Toxodon
and Mastodon, and one tooth of a Horse, in the same stained and decayed
state. This latter tooth greatly interested me,[3] and I took
scrupulous care in ascertaining that it had been embedded
contemporaneously with the other remains; for I was not then aware that
amongst the fossils from Bahia Blanca there was a horse’s tooth hidden
in the matrix: nor was it then known with certainty that the remains of
horses are common in North America. Mr. Lyell has lately brought from
the United States a tooth of a horse; and it is an interesting fact,
that Professor Owen could find in no species, either fossil or recent,
a slight but peculiar curvature characterising it, until he thought of
comparing it with my
specimen found here: he has named this American horse Equus curvidens.
Certainly it is a marvellous fact in the history of the Mammalia, that
in South America a native horse should have lived and disappeared, to
be succeeded in after ages by the countless herds descended from the
few introduced with the Spanish colonists!
[3] I need hardly state here that there is good evidence against any
horse living in America at the time of Columbus.
[Illustration]
The existence in South America of a fossil horse, of the mastodon,
possibly of an elephant,[4] and of a hollow-horned ruminant, discovered
by MM. Lund and Clausen in the caves of Brazil, are highly interesting
facts with respect to the geographical distribution of animals. At the
present time, if we divide America, not by the Isthmus of Panama, but
by the southern part of Mexico[5] in lat. 20°, where the great
table-land presents an obstacle to the migration of species, by
affecting the climate, and by forming, with the exception of some
valleys and of a fringe of low land on the coast, a broad barrier; we
shall then have the two zoological provinces of North and South
America strongly contrasted with each other. Some few species alone
have passed the barrier, and may be considered as wanderers from the
south, such as the puma, opossum, kinkajou, and peccari. South America
is characterised by possessing many peculiar gnawers, a family of
monkeys, the llama, peccari, tapir, opossums, and, especially, several
genera of Edentata, the order which includes the sloths, ant-eaters,
and armadilloes. North America, on the other hand, is characterised
(putting on one side a few wandering species) by numerous peculiar
gnawers, and by four genera (the ox, sheep, goat, and antelope) of
hollow-horned ruminants, of which great division South America is not
known to possess a single species. Formerly, but within the period when
most of the now existing shells were living, North America possessed,
besides hollow-horned ruminants, the elephant, mastodon, horse, and
three genera of Edentata, namely, the Megatherium, Megalonyx, and
Mylodon. Within nearly this same period (as proved by the shells at
Bahia Blanca) South America possessed, as we have just seen, a
mastodon, horse, hollow-horned ruminant, and the same three genera (as
well as several others) of the Edentata. Hence it is evident that North
and South America, in having within a late geological period these
several genera in common, were much more closely related in the
character of their terrestrial inhabitants than they now are. The more
I reflect on this case, the more interesting it appears: I know of no
other instance where we can almost mark the period and manner of the
splitting up of one great region into two well-characterised zoological
provinces. The geologist, who is fully impressed with the vast
oscillations of level which have affected the earth’s crust within late
periods, will not fear to speculate on the recent elevation of the
Mexican platform, or, more probably, on the recent submergence of land
in the West Indian Archipelago, as the cause of the present zoological
separation of North and South America. The South American character of
the West Indian mammals[6] seems to indicate that this archipelago was
formerly united to the southern continent, and that it has subsequently
been an area of subsidence.
[4] Cuvier, _Ossemens Fossils_, tome i, p. 158.
[5] This is the geographical division followed by Lichtenstein,
Swainson, Erichson, and Richardson. The section from Vera Cruz to
Acapulco, given by Humboldt in the _Polit. Essay on Kingdom of N.
Spain_ will show how immense a barrier the Mexican table-land forms.
Dr. Richardson, in his admirable _Report on the Zoology of N. America_
read before the British Assoc. 1836 (p. 157), talking of the
identification of a Mexican animal with the _ Synetheres prehensilis_,
says, “We do not know with what propriety, but if correct, it is, if
not a solitary instance, at least very nearly so, of a rodent animal
being common to North and South America.”
[6] See Dr. Richardson’s _Report_, p. 157; also _L’Institut_, 1837, p.
253. Cuvier says the kinkajou is found in the larger Antilles, but
this is doubtful. M. Gervais states that the Didelphis crancrivora is
found there. It is certain that the West Indies possess some mammifers
peculiar to themselves. A tooth of a mastodon has been brought from
Bahama; _Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal_, 1826, p. 395.
[Illustration]
When America, and especially North America, possessed its elephants,
mastodons, horse, and hollow-horned ruminants, it was much more closely
related in its zoological characters to the temperate parts of Europe
and Asia than it now is. As the remains of these genera are found on
both sides of Behring’s Straits[7] and on the plains of Siberia, we are
led to look to the north-western side of North America as the former
point of communication between the Old and so-called New World. And as
so many species, both living and extinct, of these same
genera inhabit and have inhabited the Old World, it seems most probable
that the North American elephants, mastodons, horse, and hollow-horned
ruminants migrated, on land since submerged near Behring’s Straits,
from Siberia into North America, and thence, on land since submerged in
the West Indies, into South America, where for a time they mingled with
the forms characteristic of that southern continent, and have since
become extinct.
[7] See the admirable Appendix by Dr. Buckland to Beechey’s _Voyage_;
also the writings of Chamisso in Kotzebue’s _Voyage._
While travelling through the country, I received several vivid
descriptions of the effects of a late great drought; and the account of
this may throw some light on the cases where vast numbers of animals of
all kinds have been embedded together. The period included between the
years 1827 and 1830 is called the “gran seco,” or the great drought.
During this time so little rain fell, that the vegetation, even to the
thistles, failed; the brooks were dried up, and the whole country
assumed the appearance of a dusty high-road. This was especially the
case in the northern part of the province of Buenos Ayres and the
southern part of St. Fé. Very great numbers of birds, wild animals,
cattle, and horses perished from the want of food and water. A man told
me that the deer[8] used to come into his courtyard to the well, which
he had been obliged to dig to supply his own family with water; and
that the partridges had hardly strength to fly away when pursued. The
lowest estimation of the loss of cattle in the province of Buenos Ayres
alone, was taken at one million head. A proprietor at San Pedro had
previously to these years 20,000 cattle; at the end not one remained.
San Pedro is situated in the middle of the finest country; and even now
abounds again with animals; yet during the latter part of the “gran
seco,” live cattle were brought in vessels for the consumption
of the inhabitants. The animals roamed from their estancias, and,
wandering far southward, were mingled together in such multitudes, that
a government commission was sent from Buenos Ayres to settle the
disputes of the owners. Sir Woodbine Parish informed me of another and
very curious source of dispute; the ground being so long dry, such
quantities of dust were blown about, that in this open country the
landmarks became obliterated, and people could not tell the limits of
their estates. I was informed by an eye-witness that the cattle in
herds of thousands rushed into the Parana, and being exhausted by
hunger they were unable to crawl up the muddy banks, and thus were
drowned. The arm of the river which runs by San Pedro was so full of
putrid carcasses, that the master of a vessel told me that the smell
rendered it quite impassable. Without doubt several hundred thousand
animals thus perished in the river: their bodies when putrid were seen
floating down the stream; and many in all probability were deposited in
the estuary of the Plata. All the small rivers became highly saline,
and this caused the death of vast numbers in particular spots; for when
an animal drinks of such water it does not recover. Azara describes[9]
the fury of the wild horses on a similar occasion, rushing into the
marshes, those which arrived first being overwhelmed and crushed by
those which followed. He adds that more than once he has seen the
carcasses of upwards of a thousand wild horses thus destroyed. I
noticed that the smaller streams in the Pampas were paved with a
breccia of bones, but this probably is the effect of a gradual
increase, rather than of the destruction at any one period.
Subsequently to the drought of 1827 to 1832, a very rainy season
followed which caused great floods. Hence it is almost certain that
some thousands of the skeletons were buried by the deposits of the very
next year. What would be the opinion of a geologist, viewing such an
enormous collection of bones, of all kinds of animals and of all ages,
thus embedded in one thick earthy mass? Would he not attribute it to a
flood having swept over the surface of the land, rather than to the
common order of things?[10]
[8] In Captain Owen’s _Surveying Voyage_ (vol. ii, p. 274) there is a
curious account of the effects of a drought on the elephants, at
Benguela (west coast of Africa). “A number of these animals had some
time since entered the town, in a body, to possess themselves of the
wells, not being able to procure any water in the country. The
inhabitants mustered, when a desperate conflict ensued, which
terminated in the ultimate discomfiture of the invaders, but not until
they had killed one man, and wounded several others.” The town is said
to have a population of nearly three thousand! Dr. Malcolmson informs
me, that during a great drought in India the wild animals entered the
tents of some troops at Ellore, and that a hare drank out of a vessel
held by the adjutant of the regiment.)
[9] _Travels_, vol. i, p. 374.
[10] These droughts to a certain degree seem to be almost periodical;
I was told the dates of several others, and the intervals were about
fifteen years.
_October_ 12_th._—I had intended to push my excursion farther, but not
being quite well, I was compelled to return by a balandra, or
one-masted vessel of about a hundred tons’ burden, which was bound to
Buenos Ayres. As the weather was not fair, we moored early in the day
to a branch of a tree on one of the islands. The Parana is full of
islands, which undergo a constant round of decay and renovation. In the
memory of the master several large ones had disappeared, and others
again had been formed and protected by vegetation. They are composed of
muddy sand, without even the smallest pebble, and were then about four
feet above the level of the river; but during the periodical floods
they are inundated. They all present one character; numerous willows
and a few other trees are bound together by a great variety of creeping
plants, thus forming a thick jungle. These thickets afford a retreat
for capybaras and jaguars. The fear of the latter animal quite
destroyed all pleasure in scrambling through the woods. This evening I
had not proceeded a hundred yards, before, finding indubitable signs of
the recent presence of the tiger, I was obliged to come back. On every
island there were tracks; and as on the former excursion “el rastro de
los Indios” had been the subject of conversation, so in this was “el
rastro del tigre.”
The wooded banks of the great rivers appear to be the favourite haunts
of the jaguar; but south of the Plata, I was told that they frequented
the reeds bordering lakes: wherever they are, they seem to require
water. Their common prey is the capybara, so that it is generally said,
where capybaras are numerous there is little danger from the jaguar.
Falconer states that near the southern side of the mouth of the Plata
there are many jaguars, and that they chiefly live on fish; this
account I have heard repeated. On the Parana they have killed many
wood-cutters, and have even entered vessels at night. There is a man
now living in the Bajada, who, coming up from below when it was dark,
was seized on the deck; he escaped, however, with the loss of the use
of one arm. When the floods drive these animals from the islands, they
are most dangerous. I was told that a few years since a very large one
found its way into a church at St. Fé: two padres entering one after
the other were killed, and a third, who came to see what
was the matter, escaped with difficulty. The beast was destroyed by
being shot from a corner of the building which was unroofed. They
commit also at these times great ravages among cattle and horses. It is
said that they kill their prey by breaking their necks. If driven from
the carcass, they seldom return to it. The Gauchos say that the jaguar,
when wandering about at night, is much tormented by the foxes yelping
as they follow him. This is a curious coincidence with the fact which
is generally affirmed of the jackals accompanying, in a similarly
officious manner, the East Indian tiger. The jaguar is a noisy animal,
roaring much by night, and especially before bad weather.
One day, when hunting on the banks of the Uruguay, I was shown certain
trees, to which these animals constantly recur for the purpose, as it
is said, of sharpening their claws. I saw three well-known trees; in
front, the bark was worn smooth, as if by the breast of the animal, and
on each side there were deep scratches, or rather grooves, extending in
an oblique line, nearly a yard in length. The scars were of different
ages. A common method of ascertaining whether a jaguar is in the
neighbourhood is to examine these trees. I imagine this habit of the
jaguar is exactly similar to one which may any day be seen in the
common cat, as with outstretched legs and exserted claws it scrapes the
leg of a chair; and I have heard of young fruit-trees in an orchard in
England having been thus much injured. Some such habit must also be
common to the puma, for on the bare hard soil of Patagonia I have
frequently seen scores so deep that no other animal could have made
them. The object of this practice is, I believe, to tear off the ragged
points of their claws, and not, as the Gauchos think, to sharpen them.
The jaguar is killed, without much difficulty, by the aid of dogs
baying and driving him up a tree, where he is despatched with bullets.
Owing to bad weather we remained two days at our moorings. Our only
amusement was catching fish for our dinner: there were several kinds,
and all good eating. A fish called the “armado” (a Silurus) is
remarkable from a harsh grating noise which it makes when caught by
hook and line, and which can be distinctly heard when the fish is
beneath the water. This same fish has the power of firmly catching hold
of any object, such as the blade of an oar or the fishing-line, with
the strong spine both of its pectoral and dorsal fin. In the evening
the weather was quite tropical, the thermometer standing at 79°.
Numbers of fireflies were hovering about, and the musquitoes were very
troublesome. I exposed my hand for five minutes, and it was soon black
with them; I do not suppose there could have been less than fifty, all
busy sucking.
[Illustration]
_October_ 15_th._—We got under way and passed Punta Gorda, where there
is a colony of tame Indians from the province of Missiones. We sailed
rapidly down the current, but before sunset, from a silly fear of bad
weather, we brought-to in a narrow arm of the river. I took the boat
and rowed some distance up this creek. It was very narrow, winding, and
deep; on each side a wall thirty or forty feet high, formed by trees
intwined with creepers, gave to the canal a singularly gloomy
appearance. I here saw a very extraordinary bird, called the
Scissor-beak (Rhynchops nigra). It has short legs, web feet, extremely
long-pointed wings, and is of about the size of a tern.
The beak is flattened laterally, that is, in a plane at right angles to
that of a spoonbill or duck. It is as flat and elastic as an ivory
paper-cutter, and the lower mandible, differently from every other
bird, is an inch and a half longer than the upper. In a lake near
Maldonado, from which the water had been nearly drained, and which, in
consequence, swarmed with small fry, I saw several of these birds,
generally in small flocks, flying rapidly backwards and forwards close
to the surface of the lake. They kept their bills wide open, and the
lower mandible half buried in the water. Thus skimming the surface,
they ploughed it in their course: the water was quite smooth, and it
formed a most curious spectacle to behold a flock, each bird leaving
its narrow wake on the mirror-like surface. In their flight they
frequently twist about with extreme quickness, and dexterously manage
with their projecting lower mandible to plough up small fish, which are
secured by the upper and shorter half of their scissor-like bills. This
fact I repeatedly saw, as, like swallows, they continued to fly
backwards and forwards close before me. Occasionally when leaving the
surface of the water their flight was wild, irregular, and rapid; they
then uttered loud harsh cries. When these birds are fishing, the
advantage of the long primary feathers of their wings, in keeping them
dry, is very evident. When thus employed, their forms resemble the
symbol by which many artists represent marine birds. Their tails are
much used in steering their irregular course.
These birds are common far inland along the course of the Rio Parana;
it is said that they remain here during the whole year, and breed in
the marshes. During the day they rest in flocks on the grassy plains,
at some distance from the water. Being at anchor, as I have said, in
one of the deep creeks between the islands of the Parana, as the
evening drew to a close, one of these scissor-beaks suddenly appeared.
The water was quite still, and many little fish were rising. The bird
continued for a long time to skim the surface, flying in its wild and
irregular manner up and down the narrow canal, now dark with the
growing night and the shadows of the overhanging trees. At Monte Video,
I observed that some large flocks during the day remained on the
mud-banks at the head of the harbour, in the same manner as on the
grassy plains near the Parana; and every evening they took flight
seaward. From
these facts I suspect that the Rhynchops generally fishes by night, at
which time many of the lower animals come most abundantly to the
surface. M. Lesson states that he has seen these birds opening the
shells of the mactræ buried in the sand-banks on the coast of Chile:
from their weak bills, with the lower mandible so much projecting,
their short legs and long wings, it is very improbable that this can be
a general habit.
In our course down the Parana, I observed only three other birds, whose
habits are worth mentioning. One is a small kingfisher (Ceryle
Americana); it has a longer tail than the European species, and hence
does not sit in so stiff and upright a position. Its flight also,
instead of being direct and rapid, like the course of an arrow, is weak
and undulatory, as among the soft-billed birds. It utters a low note,
like the clicking together of two small stones. A small green parrot
(Conurus murinus), with a grey breast, appears to prefer the tall trees
on the islands to any other situation for its building-place. A number
of nests are placed so close together as to form one great mass of
sticks. These parrots always live in flocks, and commit great ravages
on the corn-fields. I was told that near Colonia 2500 were killed in
the course of one year. A bird with a forked tail, terminated by two
long feathers (Tyrannus savana), and named by the Spaniards
scissor-tail, is very common near Buenos Ayres: it commonly sits on a
branch of the _ ombu_ tree, near a house, and thence takes a short
flight in pursuit of insects, and returns to the same spot. When on the
wing it presents in its manner of flight and general appearance a
caricature-likeness of the common swallow. It has the power of turning
very shortly in the air, and in so doing opens and shuts its tail,
sometimes in a horizontal or lateral and sometimes in a vertical
direction, just like a pair of scissors.
_October_ 16_th._—Some leagues below Rozario, the western shore of the
Parana is bounded by perpendicular cliffs, which extend in a long line
to below San Nicolas; hence it more resembles a sea-coast than that of
a fresh-water river. It is a great drawback to the scenery of the
Parana, that, from the soft nature of its banks, the water is very
muddy. The Uruguay, flowing through a granitic country, is much
clearer; and where the two channels unite at the head of the Plata, the
waters may for a long distance be distinguished by their black and red
colours. In the evening, the wind being not quite fair, as usual we
immediately moored, and the next day, as it blew rather freshly, though
with a favouring current, the master was much too indolent to think of
starting. At Bajada, he was described to me as “hombre muy aflicto”—a
man always miserable to get on; but certainly he bore all delays with
admirable resignation. He was an old Spaniard, and had been many years
in this country. He professed a great liking to the English, but
stoutly maintained that the battle of Trafalgar was merely won by the
Spanish captains having been all bought over; and that the only really
gallant action on either side was performed by the Spanish admiral. It
struck me as rather characteristic, that this man should prefer his
countrymen being thought the worst of traitors, rather than unskilful
or cowardly.
18_th and_ 19_th._—We continued slowly to sail down the noble stream:
the current helped us but little. We met, during our descent, very few
vessels. One of the best gifts of nature, in so grand a channel of
communication, seems here wilfully thrown away—a river in which ships
might navigate from a temperate country, as surprisingly abundant in
certain productions as destitute of others, to another possessing a
tropical climate, and a soil which, according to the best of judges, M.
Bonpland, is perhaps unequalled in fertility in any part of the world.
How different would have been the aspect of this river if English
colonists had by good fortune first sailed up the Plata! What noble
towns would now have occupied its shores! Till the death of Francia,
the Dictator of Paraguay, these two countries must remain distinct, as
if placed on opposite sides of the globe. And when the old
bloody-minded tyrant is gone to his long account, Paraguay will be torn
by revolutions, violent in proportion to the previous unnatural calm.
That country will have to learn, like every other South American state,
that a republic cannot succeed till it contains a certain body of men
imbued with the principles of justice and honour.
_October_ 20_th._—Being arrived at the mouth of the Parana, and as I
was very anxious to reach Buenos Ayres, I went on shore at Las Conchas,
with the intention of riding there. Upon landing, I found to my great
surprise that I was to a certain degree a prisoner. A violent
revolution having broken out, all
the ports were laid under an embargo. I could not return to my vessel,
and as for going by land to the city, it was out of the question. After
a long conversation with the commandant, I obtained permission to go
the next day to General Rolor, who commanded a division of the rebels
on this side the capital. In the morning I rode to the encampment. The
general, officers, and soldiers, all appeared, and I believe really
were, great villains. The general, the very evening before he left the
city, voluntarily went to the Governor, and with his hand to his heart,
pledged his word of honour that he at least would remain faithful to
the last. The general told me that the city was in a state of close
blockade, and that all he could do was to give me a passport to the
commander-in-chief of the rebels at Quilmes. We had therefore to take a
great sweep round the city, and it was with much difficulty that we
procured horses. My reception at the encampment was quite civil, but I
was told it was impossible that I could be allowed to enter the city. I
was very anxious about this, as I anticipated the _Beagle’s_ departure
from the Rio Plata earlier than it took place. Having mentioned,
however, General Rosas’s obliging kindness to me when at the Colorado,
magic itself could not have altered circumstances quicker than did this
conversation. I was instantly told that though they could not give me a
passport, if I chose to leave my guide and horses, I might pass their
sentinels. I was too glad to accept of this, and an officer was sent
with me to give directions that I should not be stopped at the bridge.
The road for the space of a league was quite deserted. I met one party
of soldiers, who were satisfied by gravely looking at an old passport:
and at length I was not a little pleased to find myself within the
city.
This revolution was supported by scarcely any pretext of grievances:
but in a state which, in the course of nine months (from February to
October, 1820), underwent fifteen changes in its government—each
governor, according to the constitution, being elected for three
years—it would be very unreasonable to ask for pretexts. In this case,
a party of men—who, being attached to Rosas, were disgusted with the
governor Balcarce—to the number of seventy left the city, and with the
cry of Rosas the whole country took arms. The city was then blockaded,
no provisions, cattle or horses, were allowed to enter; besides this,
there was only a little skirmishing, and a few men daily killed. The
outside party well knew that by stopping the supply of meat they would
certainly be victorious. General Rosas could not have known of this
rising; but it appears to be quite consonant with the plans of his
party. A year ago he was elected governor, but he refused it, unless
the Sala would also confer on him extraordinary powers. This was
refused, and since then his party have shown that no other governor can
keep his place. The warfare on both sides was avowedly protracted till
it was possible to hear from Rosas. A note arrived a few days after I
left Buenos Ayres, which stated that the General disapproved of peace
having been broken, but that he thought the outside party had justice
on their side. On the bare reception of this the Governor, ministers,
and part of the military, to the number of some hundreds, fled from the
city. The rebels entered, elected a new governor, and were paid for
their services to the number of 5500 men. From these proceedings, it
was clear that Rosas ultimately would become the dictator: to the term
king, the people in this, as in other republics, have a particular
dislike. Since leaving South America, we have heard that Rosas has been
elected, with powers and for a time altogether opposed to the
constitutional principles of the republic.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter VIII
Excursion to Colonia del Sacramiento—Value of an Estancia—Cattle, how
counted—Singular Breed of Oxen—Perforated Pebbles—Shepherd-dogs—Horses
broken-in, Gauchos Riding—Character of Inhabitants—Rio Plata—Flocks of
Butterflies—Aëronaut Spiders—Phosphorescence of the Sea—Port
Desire—Guanaco—Port St. Julian—Geology of Patagonia—Fossil gigantic
Animal—Types of Organisation constant—Change in the Zoology of
America—Causes of Extinction.
BANDA ORIENTAL AND PATAGONIA.
Having been delayed for nearly a fortnight in the city, I was glad to
escape on board a packet bound for Monte Video. A town in a state of
blockade must always be a disagreeable place of residence; in this case
moreover there were constant apprehensions from robbers within. The
sentinels were the worst of all; for, from their office and from having
arms in their hands, they robbed with a degree of authority which other
men could not imitate.
Our passage was a very long and tedious one. The Plata looks like a
noble estuary on the map; but is in truth a poor affair. A wide expanse
of muddy water has neither grandeur nor beauty. At one time of the day,
the two shores, both of which are extremely low, could just be
distinguished from the deck. On arriving at Monte Video I found that
the _Beagle_ would not sail for some time, so I prepared for a short
excursion in this part of Banda Oriental. Everything which I have said
about the country near Maldonado is applicable to Monte Video; but the
land, with the one exception of the Green Mount, 450 feet high, from
which it takes its name, is far more level. Very little of the
undulating grassy plain is enclosed; but near the town there are a few
hedge-banks, covered with agaves, cacti, and fennel.
_November_ 14_th._—We left Monte Video in the afternoon. I intended to
proceed to Colonia del Sacramiento, situated on the northern bank of
the Plata and opposite to Buenos Ayres, and thence, following up the
Uruguay, to the village of Mercedes on the Rio Negro (one of the many
rivers of this name in South America), and from this point to return
direct to Monte Video. We slept at the house of my guide at Canelones.
In the morning we rose early, in the hopes of being able to ride a good
distance; but it was a vain attempt, for all the rivers were flooded.
We passed in boats the streams of Canelones, St. Lucia, and San José,
and thus lost much time. On a former excursion I crossed the Lucia near
its mouth, and I was surprised to observe how easily our horses,
although not used to swim, passed over a width of at least six hundred
yards. On mentioning this at Monte Video, I was told that a vessel
containing some mountebanks and their horses, being wrecked in the
Plata, one horse swam seven miles to the shore. In the course of the
day I was amused by the dexterity with which a Gaucho forced a restive
horse to swim a river. He stripped off his clothes, and jumping on its
back, rode into the water till it was out of its depth; then slipping
off over the crupper, he caught hold of the tail, and as often as the
horse turned round the man frightened it back by splashing water in its
face. As soon as the horse touched the bottom on the other side, the
man pulled himself on, and was firmly seated, bridle in hand, before
the horse gained the bank. A naked man on a naked
horse is a fine spectacle; I had no idea how well the two animals
suited each other. The tail of a horse is a very useful appendage; I
have passed a river in a boat with four people in it, which was ferried
across in the same way as the Gaucho. If a man and horse have to cross
a broad river, the best plan is for the man to catch hold of the pommel
or mane, and help himself with the other arm.
We slept and stayed the following day at the post of Cufre. In the
evening the postman or letter-carrier arrived. He was a day after his
time, owing to the Rio Rozario being flooded. It would not, however, be
of much consequence; for, although he had passed through some of the
principal towns in Banda Oriental, his luggage consisted of two
letters! The view from the house was pleasing; an undulating green
surface, with distant glimpses of the Plata. I find that I look at this
province with very different eyes from what I did upon my first
arrival. I recollect I then thought it singularly level; but now, after
galloping over the Pampas, my only surprise is, what could have induced
me ever to have called it level. The country is a series of
undulations, in themselves perhaps not absolutely great, but, as
compared to the plains of St. Fé, real mountains. From these
inequalities there is an abundance of small rivulets, and the turf is
green and luxuriant.
_November_ 17_th._—We crossed the Rozario, which was deep and rapid,
and passing the village of Colla, arrived at mid-day at Colonia del
Sacramiento. The distance is twenty leagues, through a country covered
with fine grass, but poorly stocked with cattle or inhabitants. I was
invited to sleep at Colonia, and to accompany on the following day a
gentleman to his estancia, where there were some limestone rocks. The
town is built on a stony promontory something in the same manner as at
Monte Video. It is strongly fortified, but both fortifications and town
suffered much in the Brazilian war. It is very ancient; and the
irregularity of the streets, and the surrounding groves of old orange
and peach trees, gave it a pretty appearance. The church is a curious
ruin; it was used as a powder-magazine, and was struck by lightning in
one of the ten thousand thunderstorms of the Rio Plata. Two-thirds of
the building were blown away to the very foundation; and the rest
stands a shattered and curious monument of the
united powers of lightning and gunpowder. In the evening I wandered
about the half-demolished walls of the town. It was the chief seat of
the Brazilian war—a war most injurious to this country, not so much in
its immediate effects, as in being the origin of a multitude of
generals and all other grades of officers. More generals are numbered
(but not paid) in the United Provinces of La Plata than in the United
Kingdom of Great Britain. These gentlemen have learned to like power,
and do not object to a little skirmishing. Hence there are many always
on the watch to create disturbance and to overturn a government which
as yet has never rested on any stable foundation. I noticed, however,
both here and in other places, a very general interest in the ensuing
election for the President; and this appears a good sign for the
prosperity of this little country. The inhabitants do not require much
education in their representatives; I heard some men discussing the
merits of those for Colonia; and it was said that, “although they were
not men of business, they could all sign their names:” with this they
seemed to think every reasonable man ought to be satisfied.
18_th._—Rode with my host to his estancia, at the Arroyo de San Juan.
In the evening we took a ride round the estate: it contained two square
leagues and a half, and was situated in what is called a rincon; that
is, one side was fronted by the Plata, and the two others guarded by
impassable brooks. There was an excellent port for little vessels, and
an abundance of small wood, which is valuable as supplying fuel to
Buenos Ayres. I was curious to know the value of so complete an
estancia. Of cattle there were 3000, and it would well support three or
four times that number; of mares 800, together with 150 broken-in
horses, and 600 sheep. There was plenty of water and limestone, a rough
house, excellent corrals, and a peach orchard. For all this he had been
offered £2000, and he only wanted £500 additional, and probably would
sell it for less. The chief trouble with an estancia is driving the
cattle twice a week to a central spot, in order to make them tame, and
to count them. This latter operation would be thought difficult, where
there are ten or fifteen thousand head together. It is managed on the
principle that the cattle invariably divide themselves into little
troops of from forty to one hundred. Each troop is recognised by a few
peculiarly
marked animals, and its number is known: so that, one being lost out of
ten thousand, it is perceived by its absence from one of the tropillas.
During a stormy night the cattle all mingle together; but the next
morning the tropillas separate as before; so that each animal must know
its fellow out of ten thousand others.
On two occasions I met with in this province some oxen of a very
curious breed, called nãta or niata. They appear externally to hold
nearly the same relation to other cattle, which bull or pug dogs do to
other dogs. Their forehead is very short and broad, with the nasal end
turned up, and the upper lip much drawn back; their lower jaws project
beyond the upper, and have a corresponding upward curve; hence their
teeth are always exposed. Their nostrils are seated high up and are
very open; their eyes project outwards. When walking they carry their
heads low, on a short neck; and their hinder legs are rather longer
compared with the front legs than is usual. Their bare teeth, their
short heads, and upturned nostrils give them the most ludicrous
self-confident air of defiance imaginable.
Since my return, I have procured a skeleton head, through the kindness
of my friend Captain Sulivan, R.N., which is now deposited in the
College of Surgeons.[1] Don F. Muniz, of Luxan, has kindly collected
for me all the information which he could respecting this breed. From
his account it seems that about eighty or ninety years ago, they were
rare and kept as curiosities at Buenos Ayres. The breed is universally
believed to have originated amongst the Indians southward of the Plata;
and that it was with them the commonest kind. Even to this day, those
reared in the provinces near the Plata show their less civilised
origin, in being fiercer than common cattle, and in the cow easily
deserting her first calf, if visited too often or molested. It is a
singular fact that an almost similar structure to the abnormal[2] one
of the niata breed, characterises, as I am informed by Dr. Falconer,
that great extinct ruminant of India, the Sivatherium. The breed is
very _ true_; and a niata bull and cow invariably produce niata calves.
A niata bull with a common cow, or the reverse cross, produces
offspring having an intermediate character, but with the niata
characters strongly displayed: according to Señor Muniz, there is the
clearest evidence, contrary to the common belief of agriculturists in
analogous cases, that the niata cow when crossed with a common bull
transmits her peculiarities more strongly than the niata bull when
crossed with a common cow. When the pasture is tolerably long, the
niata cattle feed with the tongue and palate as well as common cattle;
but during the great droughts, when so many animals perish, the niata
breed is under a great disadvantage, and would be exterminated if not
attended to; for the common cattle, like horses, are able just to keep
alive, by browsing with their lips on twigs of trees and reeds; this
the niatas cannot so well do, as their lips do not join, and hence they
are found to perish before the common cattle. This strikes me as a good
illustration of how little we are able to judge from the ordinary
habits of life, on what circumstances, occurring only at long
intervals, the rarity or extinction of a species may be determined.
[1] Mr. Waterhouse has drawn up a detailed description of this head,
which I hope he will publish in some Journal.
[2] A nearly similar abnormal, but I do not know whether hereditary,
structure has been observed in the carp, and likewise in the crocodile
of the Ganges: _Histoire des Anomalies_, par M. Isid. Geoffroy St.
Hilaire, tome i, p. 244.
_November_ 19_th._—Passing the valley of Las Vacas, we slept at a house
of a North American, who worked a lime-kiln on the Arroyo de las
Vivoras. In the morning we rode to a projecting headland on the banks
of the river, called Punta Gorda. On the way we tried to find a jaguar.
There were plenty of fresh tracks, and we visited the trees on which
they are said to sharpen their claws; but we did not succeed in
disturbing one. From this point the Rio Uruguay presented to our view a
noble volume of water. From the clearness and rapidity of the stream,
its appearance was far superior to that of its neighbour the Parana. On
the opposite coast, several branches from the latter river entered the
Uruguay. As the sun was shining, the two colours of the waters could be
seen quite distinct.
In the evening we proceeded on our road towards Mercedes on the Rio
Negro. At night we asked permission to sleep at an estancia at which we
happened to arrive. It was a very large estate, being ten leagues
square, and the owner is one of the greatest landowners in the country.
His nephew had charge of it, and with him there was a captain in the
army, who the other day ran away from Buenos Ayres. Considering
their station, their conversation was rather amusing. They expressed,
as was usual, unbounded astonishment at the globe being round, and
could scarcely credit that a hole would, if deep enough, come out on
the other side. They had, however, heard of a country where there were
six months of light and six of darkness, and where the inhabitants were
very tall and thin! They were curious about the price and condition of
horses and cattle in England. Upon finding out we did not catch our
animals with the lazo, they cried out, “Ah, then, you use nothing but
the bolas:” the idea of an enclosed country was quite new to them. The
captain at last said, he had one question to ask me, which he should be
very much obliged if I would answer with all truth. I trembled to think
how deeply scientific it would be: it was, “Whether the ladies of
Buenos Ayres were not the handsomest in the world.” I replied, like a
renegade, “Charmingly so.” He added, “I have one other question: Do
ladies in any other part of the world wear such large combs?” I
solemnly assured him that they did not. They were absolutely delighted.
The captain exclaimed, “Look there! a man who has seen half the world
says it is the case; we always thought so, but now we know it.” My
excellent judgment in combs and beauty procured me a most hospitable
reception; the captain forced me to take his bed, and he would sleep on
his recado.
21_st._—Started at sunrise, and rode slowly during the whole day. The
geological nature of this part of the province was different from the
rest, and closely resembled that of the Pampas. In consequence, there
were immense beds of the thistle, as well as of the cardoon: the whole
country, indeed, may be called one great bed of these plants. The two
sorts grow separate, each plant in company with its own kind. The
cardoon is as high as a horse’s back, but the Pampas thistle is often
higher than the crown of the rider’s head. To leave the road for a yard
is out of the question; and the road itself is partly, and in some
cases entirely, closed. Pasture, of course, there is none; if cattle or
horses once enter the bed, they are for the time completely lost. Hence
it is very hazardous to attempt to drive cattle at this season of the
year; for when jaded enough to face the thistles, they rush among them,
and are seen no more. In these districts there are very few
estancias, and these few are situated in the neighbourhood of damp
valleys, where fortunately neither of these overwhelming plants can
exist. As night came on before we arrived at our journey’s end, we
slept at a miserable little hovel inhabited by the poorest people. The
extreme though rather formal courtesy of our host and hostess,
considering their grade of life, was quite delightful.
_November_ 22_nd._—Arrived at an estancia on the Berquelo belonging to
a very hospitable Englishman, to whom I had a letter of introduction
from my friend Mr. Lumb. I stayed here three days. One morning I rode
with my host to the Sierra del Pedro Flaco, about twenty miles up the
Rio Negro. Nearly the whole country was covered with good though coarse
grass, which was as high as a horse’s belly; yet there were square
leagues without a single head of cattle. The province of Banda
Oriental, if well stocked, would support an astonishing number of
animals, at present the annual export of hides from Monte Video amounts
to three hundred thousand; and the home consumption, from waste, is
very considerable. An estanciero told me that he often had to send
large herds of cattle a long journey to a salting establishment, and
that the tired beasts were frequently obliged to be killed and skinned;
but that he could never persuade the Gauchos to eat of them, and every
evening a fresh beast was slaughtered for their suppers! The view of
the Rio Negro from the Sierra was more picturesque than any other which
I saw in this province. The river, broad, deep, and rapid, wound at the
foot of a rocky precipitous cliff: a belt of wood followed its course,
and the horizon terminated in the distant undulations of the
turf-plain.
When in this neighbourhood, I several times heard of the Sierra de las
Cuentas: a hill distant many miles to the northward. The name signifies
hill of beads. I was assured that vast numbers of little round stones,
of various colours, each with a small cylindrical hole, are found
there. Formerly the Indians used to collect them, for the purpose of
making necklaces and bracelets—a taste, I may observe, which is common
to all savage nations, as well as to the most polished. I did not know
what to understand from this story, but upon mentioning it at the Cape
of Good Hope to Dr. Andrew Smith, he told me that he recollected
finding on the
south-eastern coast of Africa, about one hundred miles to the eastward
of St. John’s river, some quartz crystals with their edges blunted from
attrition, and mixed with gravel on the sea-beach. Each crystal was
about five lines in diameter, and from an inch to an inch and a half in
length. Many of them had a small canal extending from one extremity to
the other, perfectly cylindrical, and of a size that readily admitted a
coarse thread or a piece of fine catgut. Their colour was red or dull
white. The natives were acquainted with this structure in crystals. I
have mentioned these circumstances because, although no crystallised
body is at present known to assume this form, it may lead some future
traveller to investigate the real nature of such stones.
While staying at this estancia, I was amused with what I saw and heard
of the shepherd-dogs of the country.[3] When riding, it is a common
thing to meet a large flock of sheep guarded by one or two dogs, at the
distance of some miles from any house or man. I often wondered how so
firm a friendship had been established. The method of education
consists in separating the puppy, while very young, from the bitch, and
in accustoming it to its future companions. An ewe is held three or
four times a day for the little thing to suck, and a nest of wool is
made for it in the sheep-pen; at no time is it allowed to associate
with other dogs, or with the children of the family. The puppy is,
moreover, generally castrated; so that, when grown up, it can scarcely
have any feelings in common with the rest of its kind. From this
education it has no wish to leave the flock, and just as another dog
will defend its master, man, so will these the sheep. It is amusing to
observe, when approaching a flock, how the dog immediately advances
barking, and the sheep all close in his rear, as if round the oldest
ram. These dogs are also easily taught to bring home the flock at a
certain hour in the evening. Their most troublesome fault, when young,
is their desire of playing with the sheep; for in their sport they
sometimes gallop their poor subjects most unmercifully.
[3] M. A. d’Orbigny has given nearly a similar account of these dogs,
tome i, p. 175.
The shepherd-dog comes to the house every day for some
meat, and as soon as it is given him, he skulks away as if ashamed of
himself. On these occasions the house-dogs are very tyrannical, and the
least of them will attack and pursue the stranger. The minute, however,
the latter has reached the flock, he turns round and begins to bark,
and then all the house-dogs take very quickly to their heels. In a
similar manner a whole pack of the hungry wild dogs will scarcely ever
(and I was told by some never) venture to attack a flock guarded by
even one of these faithful shepherds. The whole account appears to me a
curious instance of the pliability of the affections in the dog; and
yet, whether wild or however educated, he has a feeling of respect or
fear for those that are fulfilling their instinct of association. For
we can understand on no principle the wild dogs being driven away by
the single one with its flock, except that they consider, from some
confused notion, that the one thus associated gains power, as if in
company with its own kind. F. Cuvier has observed that all animals that
readily enter into domestication consider man as a member of their own
society, and thus fulfil their instinct of association. In the above
case the shepherd-dog ranks the sheep as its fellow-brethren, and thus
gains confidence; and the wild dogs, though knowing that the individual
sheep are not dogs, but are good to eat, yet partly consent to this
view when seeing them in a flock with a shepherd-dog at their head.
One evening a “domidor” (a subduer of horses) came for the purpose of
breaking-in some colts. I will describe the preparatory steps, for I
believe they have not been mentioned by other travellers. A troop of
wild young horses is driven into the corral, or large enclosure of
stakes, and the door is shut. We will suppose that one man alone has to
catch and mount a horse, which as yet had never felt bridle or saddle.
I conceive, except by a Gaucho, such a feat would be utterly
impracticable. The Gaucho picks out a full-grown colt; and as the beast
rushes round the circus, he throws his lazo so as to catch both the
front legs. Instantly the horse rolls over with a heavy shock, and
whilst struggling on the ground, the Gaucho, holding the lazo tight,
makes a circle, so as to catch one of the hind legs just beneath the
fetlock, and draws it close to the two front legs: he then hitches the
lazo, so that the
three are bound together. Then sitting on the horse’s neck, he fixes a
strong bridle, without a bit, to the lower jaw: this he does by passing
a narrow thong through the eye-holes at the end of the reins, and
several times round both jaw and tongue. The two front legs are now
tied closely together with a strong leathern thong, fastened by a
slip-knot. The lazo, which bound the three together, being then loosed,
the horse rises with difficulty. The Gaucho, now holding fast the
bridle fixed to the lower jaw, leads the horse outside the corral. If a
second man is present (otherwise the trouble is much greater) he holds
the animal’s head, whilst the first puts on the horsecloths and saddle,
and girths the whole together. During this operation, the horse, from
dread and astonishment at thus being bound round the waist, throws
himself over and over again on the ground, and, till beaten, is
unwilling to rise. At last, when the saddling is finished, the poor
animal can hardly breathe from fear, and is white with foam and sweat.
The man now prepares to mount by pressing heavily on the stirrup, so
that the horse may not lose its balance; and at the moment that he
throws his leg over the animal’s back, he pulls the slip-knot binding
the front legs, and the beast is free. Some “domidors” pull the knot
while the animal is lying on the ground, and, standing over the saddle,
allow him to rise beneath them. The horse, wild with dread, gives a few
most violent bounds, and then starts off at full gallop: when quite
exhausted, the man, by patience, brings him back to the corral, where,
reeking hot and scarcely alive, the poor beast is let free. Those
animals which will not gallop away, but obstinately throw themselves on
the ground, are by far the most troublesome. This process is
tremendously severe, but in two or three trials the horse is tamed. It
is not, however, for some weeks that the animal is ridden with the iron
bit and solid ring, for it must learn to associate the will of its
rider with the feel of the rein, before the most powerful bridle can be
of any service.
Animals are so abundant in these countries, that humanity and
self-interest are not closely united; therefore I fear it is that the
former is here scarcely known. One day, riding in the Pampas with a
very respectable “Estanciero,” my horse, being tired, lagged behind.
The man often shouted to me to spur him. When I remonstrated that it
was a pity, for the horse
was quite exhausted, he cried out, “Why not?—never mind—spur him—it is
_my_ horse.” I had then some difficulty in making him comprehend that
it was for the horse’s sake, and not on his account, that I did not
choose to use my spurs. He exclaimed, with a look of great surprise,
“Ah, Don Carlos, que cosa!” It was clear that such an idea had never
before entered his head.
The Gauchos are well known to be perfect riders. The idea of being
thrown, let the horse do what it likes; never enters their head. Their
criterion of a good rider is, a man who can manage an untamed colt, or
who, if his horse falls, alights on his own feet, or can perform other
such exploits. I have heard of a man betting that he would throw his
horse down twenty times, and that nineteen times he would not fall
himself. I recollect seeing a Gaucho riding a very stubborn horse,
which three times successively reared so high as to fall backwards with
great violence. The man judged with uncommon coolness the proper moment
for slipping off, not an instant before or after the right time; and as
soon as the horse got up, the man jumped on his back, and at last they
started at a gallop. The Gaucho never appears to exert any muscular
force. I was one day watching a good rider, as we were galloping along
at a rapid pace, and thought to myself, “Surely if the horse starts,
you appear so careless on your seat, you must fall.” At this moment a
male ostrich sprang from its nest right beneath the horse’s nose: the
young colt bounded on one side like a stag; but as for the man, all
that could be said was, that he started and took fright with his horse.
In Chile and Peru more pains are taken with the mouth of the horse than
in La Plata, and this is evidently a consequence of the more intricate
nature of the country. In Chile a horse is not considered perfectly
broken till he can be brought up standing, in the midst of his full
speed, on any particular spot,—for instance, on a cloak thrown on the
ground: or, again, he will charge a wall, and rearing, scrape the
surface with his hoofs. I have seen an animal bounding with spirit, yet
merely reined by a forefinger and thumb, taken at full gallop across a
courtyard, and then made to wheel round the post of a veranda with
great speed, but at so equal a distance, that the rider, with
outstretched arm, all the while kept one finger rubbing the post.
Then making a demi-volte in the air, with the other arm outstretched in
a like manner, he wheeled round, with astonishing force, in an opposite
direction.
Such a horse is well broken; and although this at first may appear
useless, it is far otherwise. It is only carrying that which is daily
necessary into perfection. When a bullock is checked and caught by the
lazo, it will sometimes gallop round and round in a circle, and the
horse being alarmed at the great strain, if not well broken, will not
readily turn like the pivot of a wheel. In consequence many men have
been killed; for if the lazo once takes a twist round a man’s body, it
will instantly, from the power of the two opposed animals, almost cut
him in twain. On the same principle the races are managed; the course
is only two or three hundred yards long, the wish being to have horses
that can make a rapid dash. The racehorses are trained not only to
stand with their hoofs touching a line, but to draw all four feet
together, so as at the first spring to bring into play the full action
of the hind-quarters. In Chile I was told an anecdote, which I believe
was true; and it offers a good illustration of the use of a well-broken
animal. A respectable man riding one day met two others, one of whom
was mounted on a horse, which he knew to have been stolen from himself.
He challenged them; they answered him by drawing their sabres and
giving chase. The man, on his good and fleet beast, kept just ahead: as
he passed a thick bush he wheeled round it, and brought up his horse to
a dead check. The pursuers were obliged to shoot on one side and ahead.
Then instantly dashing on, right behind them, he buried his knife in
the back of one, wounded the other, recovered his horse from the dying
robber, and rode home. For these feats of horsemanship two things are
necessary: a most severe bit, like the Mameluke, the power of which,
though seldom used, the horse knows full well; and large blunt spurs,
that can be applied either as a mere touch, or as an instrument of
extreme pain. I conceive that with English spurs, the slightest touch
of which pricks the skin, it would be impossible to break in a horse
after the South American fashion.
At an estancia near Las Vacas large numbers of mares are weekly
slaughtered for the sake of their hides, although worth only five paper
dollars, or about half a crown apiece. It seems
at first strange that it can answer to kill mares for such a trifle;
but as it is thought ridiculous in this country ever to break in or
ride a mare, they are of no value except for breeding. The only thing
for which I ever saw mares used, was to tread out wheat from the ear,
for which purpose they were driven round a circular enclosure, where
the wheat-sheaves were strewed. The man employed for slaughtering the
mares happened to be celebrated for his dexterity with the lazo.
Standing at the distance of twelve yards from the mouth of the corral,
he has laid a wager that he would catch by the legs every animal,
without missing one, as it rushed past him. There was another man who
said he would enter the corral on foot, catch a mare, fasten her front
legs together, drive her out, throw her down, kill, skin, and stake the
hide for drying (which latter is a tedious job); and he engaged that he
would perform this whole operation on twenty-two animals in one day. Or
he would kill and take the skin off fifty in the same time. This would
have been a prodigious task, for it is considered a good day’s work to
skin and stake the hides of fifteen or sixteen animals.
_November_ 26_th._—I set out on my return in a direct line for Monte
Video. Having heard of some giant’s bones at a neighbouring farmhouse
on the Sarandis, a small stream entering the Rio Negro, I rode there
accompanied by my host, and purchased for the value of eighteenpence
the head of the Toxodon.[4] When found it was quite perfect; but the
boys knocked out some of the teeth with stones, and then set up the
head as a mark to throw at. By a most fortunate chance I found a
perfect tooth, which exactly fitted one of the sockets in this skull,
embedded by itself on the banks of the Rio Tercero, at the distance of
about 180 miles from this place. I found remains of this extraordinary
animal at two other places, so that it must formerly have been common.
I found here, also, some large portions of the armour of a gigantic
armadillo-like animal, and part of the great head of a Mylodon. The
bones of this head are so fresh, that they contain, according to the
analysis by Mr. T. Reeks, seven per cent of animal matter; and when
placed in a spirit-lamp, they burn with a small flame.
The number of the remains embedded in the grand estuary deposit which
forms the Pampas and covers the granitic rocks of Banda Oriental, must
be extraordinarily great. I believe a straight line drawn in any
direction through the Pampas would cut through some skeleton or bones.
Besides those which I found during my short excursions, I heard of many
others, and the origin of such names as “the stream of the animal,”
“the hill of the giant,” is obvious. At other times I heard of the
marvellous property of certain rivers, which had the power of changing
small bones into large; or, as some maintained, the bones themselves
grew. As far as I am aware, not one of these animals perished, as was
formerly supposed, in the marshes or muddy river-beds of the present
land, but their bones have been exposed by the streams intersecting the
subaqueous deposit in which they were originally embedded. We may
conclude that the whole area of the Pampas is one wide sepulchre of
these extinct gigantic quadrupeds.
[4] I must express my obligation to Mr. Keane, at whose house I was
staying on the Berquelo, and to Mr. Lumb at Buenos Ayres, for without
their assistance these valuable remains would never have reached
England.
By the middle of the day, on the 28th, we arrived at Monte Video,
having been two days and a half on the road. The country for the whole
way was of a very uniform character, some parts being rather more rocky
and hilly than near the Plata. Not far from Monte Video we passed
through the village of Las Pietras, so named from some large rounded
masses of syenite. Its appearance was rather pretty. In this country a
few fig-trees round a group of houses, and a site elevated a hundred
feet above the general level, ought always to be called picturesque.
During the last six months I have had an opportunity of seeing a little
of the character of the inhabitants of these provinces. The Gauchos, or
countrymen, are very superior to those who reside in the towns. The
Gaucho is invariably most obliging, polite, and hospitable: I did not
meet with even one instance of rudeness or inhospitality. He is modest,
both respecting himself and country, but at the same time a spirited,
bold fellow. On the other hand, many robberies are committed, and there
is much bloodshed: the habit of constantly wearing the knife is the
chief cause of the latter. It is lamentable to hear how many lives are
lost in trifling quarrels. In fighting, each party tries to mark the
face of his adversary by slashing
his nose or eyes; as is often attested by deep and horrid-looking
scars. Robberies are a natural consequence of universal gambling, much
drinking, and extreme indolence. At Mercedes I asked two men why they
did not work. One gravely said the days were too long; the other that
he was too poor. The number of horses and the profusion of food are the
destruction of all industry. Moreover, there are so many feast-days;
and again, nothing can succeed without it be begun when the moon is on
the increase; so that half the month is lost from these two causes.
Police and justice are quite inefficient. If a man who is poor commits
murder and is taken, he will be imprisoned, and perhaps even shot; but
if he is rich and has friends, he may rely on it no very severe
consequence will ensue. It is curious that the most respectable
inhabitants of the country invariably assist a murderer to escape: they
seem to think that the individual sins against the government, and not
against the people. A traveller has no protection besides his firearms;
and the constant habit of carrying them is the main check to more
frequent robberies.
The character of the higher and more educated classes who reside in the
towns, partakes, but perhaps in a lesser degree, of the good parts of
the Gaucho, but is, I fear, stained by many vices of which he is free.
Sensuality, mockery of all religion, and the grossest corruption, are
far from uncommon. Nearly every public officer can be bribed. The head
man in the post-office sold forged government franks. The governor and
prime minister openly combined to plunder the State. Justice, where
gold came into play, was hardly expected by any one. I knew an
Englishman who went to the Chief Justice (he told me that, not then
understanding the ways of the place, he trembled as he entered the
room), and said, “Sir, I have come to offer you two hundred (paper)
dollars (value about five pounds sterling) if you will arrest before a
certain time a man who has cheated me. I know it is against the law,
but my lawyer (naming him) recommended me to take this step.” The Chief
Justice smiled acquiescence, thanked him, and the man before night was
safe in prison. With this entire want of principle in many of the
leading men, with the country full of ill-paid turbulent officers, the
people yet hope that a democratic form of government can succeed!
On first entering society in these countries, two or three features
strike one as particularly remarkable. The polite and dignified manners
pervading every rank of life, the excellent taste displayed by the
women in their dresses, and the equality amongst all ranks. At the Rio
Colorado some men who kept the humblest shops used to dine with General
Rosas. A son of a major at Bahia Blanca gained his livelihood by making
paper cigars, and he wished to accompany me, as guide or servant, to
Buenos Ayres, but his father objected on the score of the danger alone.
Many officers in the army can neither read nor write, yet all meet in
society as equals. In Entre Rios, the Sala consisted of only six
representatives. One of them kept a common shop, and evidently was not
degraded by the office. All this is what would be expected in a new
country; nevertheless the absence of gentlemen by profession appears to
an Englishman something strange.
When speaking of these countries, the manner in which they have been
brought up by their unnatural parent, Spain, should always be borne in
mind. On the whole, perhaps, more credit is due for what has been done,
than blame for that which may be deficient. It is impossible to doubt
but that the extreme liberalism of these countries must ultimately lead
to good results. The very general toleration of foreign religions, the
regard paid to the means of education, the freedom of the press, the
facilities offered to all foreigners, and especially, as I am bound to
add, to every one professing the humblest pretensions to science,
should be recollected with gratitude by those who have visited Spanish
South America.
_December_ 6_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed from the Rio Plata, never again
to enter its muddy stream. Our course was directed to Port Desire, on
the coast of Patagonia. Before proceeding any farther, I will here put
together a few observations made at sea.
Several times when the ship has been some miles off the mouth of the
Plata, and at other times when off the shores of Northern Patagonia, we
have been surrounded by insects. One evening, when we were about ten
miles from the Bay of San Blas, vast numbers of butterflies, in bands
or flocks of countless myriads, extended as far as the eye could range.
Even by the
aid of a telescope it was not possible to see a space free from
butterflies. The seamen cried out “it was snowing butterflies,” and
such in fact was the appearance. More species than one were present,
but the main part belonged to a kind very similar to, but not identical
with, the common English Colias edusa. Some moths and hymenoptera
accompanied the butterflies; and a fine beetle (Calosoma) flew on
board. Other instances are known of this beetle having been caught far
out at sea; and this is the more remarkable, as the greater number of
the Carabidæ seldom or never take wing. The day had been fine and
calm, and the one previous to it equally so, with light and variable
airs. Hence we cannot suppose that the insects were blown off the land,
but we must conclude that they voluntarily took flight. The great bands
of the Colias seem at first to afford an instance like those on record
of the migrations of another butterfly, Vanessa cardui;[5] but the
presence of other insects makes the case distinct, and even less
intelligible. Before sunset a strong breeze sprung up from the north,
and this must have caused tens of thousands of the butterflies and
other insects to have perished.
[5] Lyell’s _Principles of Geology_, vol. iii, p. 63.
On another occasion, when seventeen miles off Cape Corrientes, I had a
net overboard to catch pelagic animals. Upon drawing it up, to my
surprise I found a considerable number of beetles in it, and although
in the open sea, they did not appear much injured by the salt water. I
lost some of the specimens, but those which I preserved belonged to the
genera Colymbetes, Hydroporus, Hydrobius (two species), Notaphus,
Cynucus, Adimonia, and Scarabæus. At first I thought that these
insects had been blown from the shore; but upon reflecting that out of
the eight species four were aquatic, and two others partly so in their
habits, it appeared to me most probable that they were floated into the
sea by a small stream which drains a lake near Cape Corrientes. On any
supposition it is an interesting circumstance to find live insects
swimming in the open ocean seventeen miles from the nearest point of
land. There are several accounts of insects having been blown off the
Patagonian shore. Captain Cook observed it, as did more lately Captain
King of the _Adventure_. The cause probably is due to the want of
shelter, both of trees and hills, so that an
insect on the wing with an offshore breeze, would be very apt to be
blown out to sea. The most remarkable instance I have known of an
insect being caught far from the land, was that of a large grasshopper
(Acrydium), which flew on board, when the “Beagle” was to windward of
the Cape de Verd Islands, and when the nearest point of land, not
directly opposed to the trade-wind, was Cape Blanco on the coast of
Africa, 370 miles distant.[6]
[6] The flies which frequently accompany a ship for some days on its
passage from harbour to harbour, wandering from the vessel, are soon
lost, and all disappear.
On several occasions, when the _Beagle_ has been within the mouth of
the Plata, the rigging has been coated with the web of the Gossamer
Spider. One day (November 1st, 1832) I paid particular attention to
this subject. The weather had been fine and clear, and in the morning
the air was full of patches of the flocculent web, as on an autumnal
day in England. The ship was sixty miles distant from the land, in the
direction of a steady though light breeze. Vast numbers of a small
spider, about one-tenth of an inch in length, and of a dusky red
colour, were attached to the webs. There must have been, I should
suppose, some thousands on the ship. The little spider, when first
coming in contact with the rigging, was always seated on a single
thread, and not on the flocculent mass. This latter seems merely to be
produced by the entanglement of the single threads. The spiders were
all of one species, but of both sexes, together with young ones. These
latter were distinguished by their smaller size and more dusky colour.
I will not give the description of this spider, but merely state that
it does not appear to me to be included in any of Latreille’s genera.
The little aëronaut as soon as it arrived on board was very active,
running about, sometimes letting itself fall, and then reascending the
same thread; sometimes employing itself in making a small and very
irregular mesh in the corners between the ropes. It could run with
facility on the surface of water. When disturbed it lifted up its front
legs, in the attitude of attention. On its first arrival it appeared
very thirsty, and with exserted maxillæ drank eagerly of drops of
water; this same circumstance has been observed by Strack: may it not
be in consequence of the little insect having passed through a dry and
rarefied atmosphere? Its stock of web seemed inexhaustible. While
watching some that were suspended by a single thread, I several times
observed that the slightest breath of air bore them away out of sight,
in a horizontal line. On another occasion (25th) under similar
circumstances, I repeatedly observed the same kind of small spider,
either when placed or having crawled on some little eminence, elevate
its abdomen, send forth a thread, and then sail away horizontally, but
with a rapidity which was quite unaccountable. I thought I could
perceive that the spider, before performing the above preparatory
steps, connected its legs together with the most delicate threads, but
I am not sure whether this observation was correct.
One day, at St. Fé, I had a better opportunity of observing some
similar facts. A spider which was about three-tenths of an inch in
length, and which in its general appearance resembled a Citigrade
(therefore quite different from the gossamer), while standing on the
summit of a post, darted forth four or five threads from its spinners.
These, glittering in the sunshine, might be compared to diverging rays
of light; they were not, however, straight, but in undulations like
films of silk blown by the wind. They were more than a yard in length,
and diverged in an ascending direction from the orifices. The spider
then suddenly let go its hold of the post, and was quickly borne out of
sight. The day was hot and apparently quite calm; yet under such
circumstances, the atmosphere can never be so tranquil as not to affect
a vane so delicate as the thread of a spider’s web. If during a warm
day we look either at the shadow of any object cast on a bank, or over
a level plain at a distant landmark, the effect of an ascending current
of heated air is almost always evident: such upward currents, it has
been remarked, are also shown by the ascent of soap-bubbles, which will
not rise in an indoors room. Hence I think there is not much difficulty
in understanding the ascent of the fine lines projected from a spider’s
spinners, and afterwards of the spider itself; the divergence of the
lines has been attempted to be explained, I believe by Mr. Murray, by
their similar electrical condition. The circumstance of spiders of the
same species, but of different sexes and ages, being found on several
occasions at the distance of many leagues from the land, attached in
vast numbers to the lines, renders it probable that the habit of
sailing through the air is as characteristic of
this tribe, as that of diving is of the Argyroneta. We may then reject
Latreille’s supposition, that the gossamer owes its origin
indifferently to the young of several genera of spiders: although, as
we have seen, the young of other spiders do possess the power of
performing aërial voyages.[7]
[7] Mr. Blackwall, in his _Researches in Zoology_, has many excellent
observations on the habits of spiders.
During our different passages south of the Plata, I often towed astern
a net made of bunting, and thus caught many curious animals. Of
Crustacea there were many strange and undescribed genera. One, which in
some respects is allied to the Notopods (or those crabs which have
their posterior legs placed almost on their backs, for the purpose of
adhering to the under side of rocks), is very remarkable from the
structure of its hind pair of legs. The penultimate joint, instead of
terminating in a simple claw, ends in three bristle-like appendages of
dissimilar lengths—the longest equalling that of the entire leg. These
claws are very thin, and are serrated with the finest teeth, directed
backwards: their curved extremities are flattened, and on this part
five most minute cups are placed which seem to act in the same manner
as the suckers on the arms of the cuttle-fish. As the animal lives in
the open sea, and probably wants a place of rest, I suppose this
beautiful and most anomalous structure is adapted to take hold of
floating marine animals.
In deep water, far from the land, the number of living creatures is
extremely small: south of the latitude 35°, I never succeeded in
catching anything besides some beroe, and a few species of minute
entomostracous crustacea. In shoaler water, at the distance of a few
miles from the coast, very many kinds of crustacea and some other
animals are numerous, but only during the night. Between latitudes 56°
and 57° south of Cape Horn, the net was put astern several times; it
never, however, brought up anything besides a few of two extremely
minute species of Entomostraca. Yet whales and seals, petrels and
albatross, are exceedingly abundant throughout this part of the ocean.
It has always been a mystery to me on what the albatross, which lives
far from the shore, can subsist; I presume that, like the condor, it is
able to fast long; and that one good feast on the carcass of a putrid
whale lasts for a long
time. The central and intertropical parts of the Atlantic swarm with
Pteropoda, Crustacea, and Radiata, and with their devourers the
flying-fish, and again with their devourers the bonitos and albicores;
I presume that the numerous lower pelagic animals feed on the
Infusoria, which are now known, from the researches of Ehrenberg, to
abound in the open ocean: but on what, in the clear blue water, do
these Infusoria subsist?
While sailing a little south of the Plata on one very dark night, the
sea presented a wonderful and most beautiful spectacle. There was a
fresh breeze, and every part of the surface, which during the day is
seen as foam, now glowed with a pale light. The vessel drove before her
bows two billows of liquid phosphorus, and in her wake she was followed
by a milky train. As far as the eye reached, the crest of every wave
was bright, and the sky above the horizon, from the reflected glare of
these livid flames, was not so utterly obscure as over the vault of the
heavens.
As we proceed farther southward the sea is seldom phosphorescent; and
off Cape Horn I do not recollect more than once having seen it so, and
then it was far from being brilliant. This circumstance probably has a
close connection with the scarcity of organic beings in that part of
the ocean. After the elaborate paper[8] by Ehrenberg, on the
phosphorescence of the sea, it is almost superfluous on my part to make
any observations on the subject. I may however add, that the same torn
and irregular particles of gelatinous matter, described by Ehrenberg,
seem in the southern as well as in the northern hemisphere to be the
common cause of this phenomenon. The particles were so minute as easily
to pass through fine gauze; yet many were distinctly visible by the
naked eye. The water when placed in a tumbler and agitated gave out
sparks, but a small portion in a watch-glass scarcely ever was
luminous. Ehrenberg states that these particles all retain a certain
degree of irritability. My observations, some of which were made
directly after taking up the water, gave a different result. I may also
mention, that having used the net during one night, I allowed it to
become partially dry, and having occasion twelve hours afterwards to
employ it again, I found
the whole surface sparkled as brightly as when first taken out of the
water. It does not appear probable in this case that the particles
could have remained so long alive. On one occasion having kept a
jelly-fish of the genus Dianæa till it was dead, the water in which it
was placed became luminous. When the waves scintillate with bright
green sparks, I believe it is generally owing to minute crustacea. But
there can be no doubt that very many other pelagic animals, when alive,
are phosphorescent.
[8] An abstract is given in No. IV of the _ Magazine of Zoology and
Botany._
On two occasions I have observed the sea luminous at considerable
depths beneath the surface. Near the mouth of the Plata some circular
and oval patches, from two to four yards in diameter, and with defined
outlines, shone with a steady but pale light; while the surrounding
water only gave out a few sparks. The appearance resembled the
reflection of the moon, or some luminous body; for the edges were
sinuous from the undulations of the surface. The ship, which drew
thirteen feet water, passed over, without disturbing these patches.
Therefore we must suppose that some animals were congregated together
at a greater depth than the bottom of the vessel.
Near Fernando Noronha the sea gave out light in flashes. The appearance
was very similar to that which might be expected from a large fish
moving rapidly through a luminous fluid. To this cause the sailors
attributed it; at the time, however, I entertained some doubts, on
account of the frequency and rapidity of the flashes. I have already
remarked that the phenomenon is very much more common in warm than in
cold countries; and I have sometimes imagined that a disturbed
electrical condition of the atmosphere was most favourable to its
production. Certainly I think the sea is most luminous after a few days
of more calm weather than ordinary, during which time it has swarmed
with various animals. Observing that the water charged with gelatinous
particles is in an impure state, and that the luminous appearance in
all common cases is produced by the agitation of the fluid in contact
with the atmosphere, I am inclined to consider that the phosphorescence
is the result of the decomposition of the organic particles, by which
process (one is tempted almost to call it a kind of respiration) the
ocean becomes purified.
_December_ 23_rd._—We arrived at Port Desire, situated in lat. 47°, on
the coast of Patagonia. The creek runs for about twenty miles inland,
with an irregular width. The _ Beagle_ anchored a few miles within the
entrance, in front of the ruins of an old Spanish settlement.
The same evening I went on shore. The first landing in any new country
is very interesting, and especially when, as in this case, the whole
aspect bears the stamp of a marked and individual character. At the
height of between two and three hundred feet above some masses of
porphyry a wide plain extends, which is truly characteristic of
Patagonia. The surface is quite level, and is composed of well-rounded
shingle mixed with a whitish earth. Here and there scattered tufts of
brown wiry grass are supported, and still more rarely, some low thorny
bushes. The weather is dry and pleasant, and the fine blue sky is but
seldom obscured. When standing in the middle of one of these desert
plains and looking towards the interior, the view is generally bounded
by the escarpment of another plain, rather higher, but equally level
and desolate; and in every other direction the horizon is indistinct
from the trembling mirage which seems to rise from the heated surface.
In such a country the fate of the Spanish settlement was soon decided;
the dryness of the climate during the greater part of the year, and the
occasional hostile attacks of the wandering Indians, compelled the
colonists to desert their half-finished buildings. The style, however,
in which they were commenced shows the strong and liberal hand of Spain
in the old time. The result of all the attempts to colonise this side
of America south of 41° has been miserable. Port Famine expresses by
its name the lingering and extreme sufferings of several hundred
wretched people, of whom one alone survived to relate their
misfortunes. At St. Joseph’s Bay, on the coast of Patagonia, a small
settlement was made; but during one Sunday the Indians made an attack
and massacred the whole party, excepting two men, who remained captives
during many years. At the Rio Negro I conversed with one of these men,
now in extreme old age.
The zoology of Patagonia is as limited as its Flora.[9] On
the arid plains a few black beetles (Heteromera) might be seen slowly
crawling about, and occasionally a lizard darted from side to side. Of
birds we have three carrion hawks, and in the valleys a few finches and
insect-feeders. An ibis (Theristicus melanops—a species said to be
found in central Africa) is not uncommon on the most desert parts: in
their stomachs I found grasshoppers, cicadæ, small lizards, and even
scorpions.[10] At one time of the year these birds go in flocks, at
another in pairs, their cry is very loud and singular, like the
neighing of the guanaco.
[9] I found here a species of cactus, described by Professor Henslow,
under the name of _Opuntia Darwinii (Magazine of Zoology and Botany)_,
vol. i, p. 466, which was remarkable for the irritability of the
stamens, when I inserted either a piece of stick or the end of my
finger in the flower. The segments of the perianth also closed on the
pistil, but more slowly than the stamens. Plants of this family,
generally considered as tropical, occur in North America (_Lewis and
Clarke’s Travels_, p. 221), in the same high latitude as here, namely,
in both cases, in 47°.
[10] These insects were not uncommon beneath stones. I found one
cannibal scorpion quietly devouring another.
[Illustration]
The guanaco, or wild llama, is the characteristic quadruped of the
plains of Patagonia; it is the South American representative of the
camel of the East. It is an elegant animal in a state of nature, with a
long slender neck and fine legs. It is very common over the whole of
the temperate parts of the continent, as far south as the islands near
Cape Horn. It generally lives in small herds of from half a dozen to
thirty in each; but on the banks of the St. Cruz we saw one herd which
must have contained at least five hundred.
They are generally wild and extremely wary. Mr. Stokes
told me that he one day saw through a glass a herd of these animals
which evidently had been frightened, and were running away at full
speed, although their distance was so great that he could not
distinguish them with his naked eye. The sportsman frequently receives
the first notice of their presence, by hearing from a long distance
their peculiar shrill neighing note of alarm. If he then looks
attentively, he will probably see the herd standing in a line on the
side of some distant hill. On approaching nearer, a few more squeals
are given, and off they set at an apparently slow, but really quick
canter, along some narrow beaten track to a neighbouring hill. If,
however, by chance he abruptly meets a single animal, or several
together, they will generally stand motionless and intently gaze at
him; then perhaps move on a few yards, turn round, and look again. What
is the cause of this difference in their shyness? Do they mistake a man
in the distance for their chief enemy the puma? Or does curiosity
overcome their timidity? That they are curious is certain; for if a
person lies on the ground, and plays strange antics, such as throwing
up his feet in the air, they will almost always approach by degrees to
reconnoitre him. It was an artifice that was repeatedly practised by
our sportsmen with success, and it had moreover the advantage of
allowing several shots to be fired, which were all taken as parts of
the performance. On the mountains of Tierra del Fuego, I have more than
once seen a guanaco, on being approached, not only neigh and squeal,
but prance and leap about in the most ridiculous manner, apparently in
defiance as a challenge. These animals are very easily domesticated,
and I have seen some thus kept in Northern Patagonia near a house,
though not under any restraint. They are in this state very bold, and
readily attack a man by striking him from behind with both knees. It is
asserted that the motive for these attacks is jealousy on account of
their females. The wild guanacos, however, have no idea of defence;
even a single dog will secure one of these large animals, till the
huntsman can come up. In many of their habits they are like sheep in a
flock. Thus when they see men approaching in several directions on
horseback, they soon become bewildered, and know not which way to run.
This greatly facilitates the Indian method of hunting, for they are
thus easily driven to a central point, and are encompassed.
The guanacos readily take to the water: several times at Port Valdes
they were seen swimming from island to island. Byron, in his voyage,
says he saw them drinking salt water. Some of our officers likewise saw
a herd apparently drinking the briny fluid from a salina near Cape
Blanco. I imagine in several parts of the country, if they do not drink
salt water, they drink none at all. In the middle of the day they
frequently roll in the dust, in saucer-shaped hollows. The males fight
together; two one day passed quite close to me, squealing and trying to
bite each other; and several were shot with their hides deeply scored.
Herds sometimes appear to set out on exploring parties: at Bahia
Blanca, where, within thirty miles of the coast, these animals are
extremely unfrequent, I one day saw the tracks of thirty or forty,
which had come in a direct line to a muddy salt-water creek. They then
must have perceived that they were approaching the sea, for they had
wheeled with the regularity of cavalry, and had returned back in as
straight a line as they had advanced. The guanacos have one singular
habit, which is to me quite inexplicable; namely, that on successive
days they drop their dung in the same defined heap. I saw one of these
heaps which was eight feet in diameter, and was composed of a large
quantity. This habit, according to M. A. d’Orbigny, is common to all
the species of the genus; it is very useful to the Peruvian Indians,
who use the dung for fuel, and are thus saved the trouble of collecting
it.
The guanacos appear to have favourite spots for lying down to die. On
the banks of the St. Cruz, in certain circumscribed spaces, which were
generally bushy and all near the river, the ground was actually white
with bones. On one such spot I counted between ten and twenty heads. I
particularly examined the bones; they did not appear, as some scattered
ones which I had seen, gnawed or broken, as if dragged together by
beasts of prey. The animals in most cases must have crawled, before
dying, beneath and amongst the bushes. Mr. Bynoe informs me that during
a former voyage he observed the same circumstance on the banks of the
Rio Gallegos. I do not at all understand the reason of this, but I may
observe, that the wounded guanacos at the St. Cruz invariably walked
towards the river. At St. Jago in the Cape de Verd Islands, I remember
having seen in a ravine a retired corner covered with bones of the
goat; we
at the time exclaimed that it was the burial-ground of all the goats in
the island. I mention these trifling circumstances, because in certain
cases they might explain the occurrence of a number of uninjured bones
in a cave, or buried under alluvial accumulations; and likewise the
cause why certain animals are more commonly embedded than others in
sedimentary deposits.
One day the yawl was sent under the command of Mr. Chaffers with three
days’ provisions to survey the upper part of the harbour. In the
morning we searched for some watering-places mentioned in an old
Spanish chart. We found one creek, at the head of which there was a
trickling rill (the first we had seen) of brackish water. Here the tide
compelled us to wait several hours; and in the interval I walked some
miles into the interior. The plain as usual consisted of gravel,
mingled with soil resembling chalk in appearance, but very different
from it in nature. From the softness of these materials it was worn
into many gulleys. There was not a tree, and, excepting the guanaco,
which stood on the hilltop a watchful sentinel over its herd, scarcely
an animal or a bird. All was stillness and desolation. Yet in passing
over these scenes, without one bright object near, an ill-defined but
strong sense of pleasure is vividly excited. One asked how many ages
the plain had thus lasted, and how many more it was doomed thus to
continue.
None can reply—all seems eternal now.
The wilderness has a mysterious tongue,
Which teaches awful doubt.[11]
[11] Shelley, _Lines on M. Blanc._
In the evening we sailed a few miles farther up, and then pitched the
tents for the night. By the middle of the next day the yawl was
aground, and from the shoalness of the water could not proceed any
higher. The water being found partly fresh, Mr. Chaffers took the
dingey and went up two or three miles farther, where she also grounded,
but in a fresh-water river. The water was muddy, and though the stream
was most insignificant in size, it would be difficult to account for
its origin, except from the melting snow on the Cordillera. At the spot
where we bivouacked, we were surrounded by bold cliffs and steep
pinnacles of porphyry. I do not think I ever saw a spot which appeared
more secluded from the rest of the world than this rocky crevice in the
wide plain.
The second day after our return to the anchorage, a party of officers
and myself went to ransack an old Indian grave, which I had found on
the summit of a neighbouring hill. Two immense stones, each probably
weighing at least a couple of tons, had been placed in front of a ledge
of rock about six feet high. At the bottom of the grave on the hard
rock there was a layer of earth about a foot deep, which must have been
brought up from the plain below. Above it a pavement of flat stones was
placed, on which others were piled, so as to fill up the space between
the ledge and the two great blocks. To complete the grave, the Indians
had contrived to detach from the ledge a huge fragment, and to throw it
over the pile so as to rest on the two blocks. We undermined the grave
on both sides, but could not find any relics, or even bones. The latter
probably had decayed long since (in which case the grave must have been
of extreme antiquity), for I found in another place some smaller heaps,
beneath which a very few crumbling fragments could yet be distinguished
as having belonged to a man. Falconer states, that where an Indian dies
he is buried, but that subsequently his bones are carefully taken up
and carried, let the distance be ever so great, to be deposited near
the sea-coast. This custom, I think, may be accounted for by
recollecting that, before the introduction of horses, these Indians
must have led nearly the same life as the Fuegians now do, and
therefore generally have resided in the neighbourhood of the sea. The
common prejudice of lying where one’s ancestors have lain, would make
the now roaming Indians bring the less perishable part of their dead to
their ancient burial-ground on the coast.
_January_ 9_th._—Before it was dark the _Beagle_ anchored in the fine
spacious harbour of Port St. Julian, situated about one hundred and ten
miles to the south of Port Desire. We remained here eight days. The
country is nearly similar to that of Port Desire, but perhaps rather
more sterile. One day a party accompanied Captain Fitz Roy on a long
walk round the head of the harbour. We were eleven hours without
tasting any water, and some of the party were quite exhausted. From the
summit of a hill (since well named Thirsty Hill) a fine lake was spied,
and two of the party proceeded with concerted signals to show whether
it was fresh water. What was our disappointment to find a snow-white
expanse of salt, crystallised in great
cubes! We attributed our extreme thirst to the dryness of the
atmosphere; but whatever the cause might be, we were exceedingly glad
late in the evening to get back to the boats. Although we could nowhere
find, during our whole visit, a single drop of fresh water, yet some
must exist; for by an odd chance I found on the surface of the salt
water, near the head of the bay, a Colymbetes not quite dead, which
must have lived in some not far distant pool. Three other insects (a
Cincindela, like _hybrida_, a Cymindis, and a Harpalus, which all live
on muddy flats occasionally overflowed by the sea), and one other found
dead on the plain, complete the list of the beetles. A good-sized fly
(Tabanus) was extremely numerous, and tormented us by its painful bite.
The common horsefly, which is so troublesome in the shady lanes of
England, belongs to this same genus. We here have the puzzle that so
frequently occurs in the case of musquitoes—on the blood of what
animals do these insects commonly feed? The guanaco is nearly the only
warm-blooded quadruped, and it is found in quite inconsiderable numbers
compared with the multitude of flies.
The geology of Patagonia is interesting. Differently from Europe, where
the tertiary formations appear to have accumulated in bays, here along
hundreds of miles of coast we have one great deposit, including many
tertiary shells, all apparently extinct. The most common shell is a
massive gigantic oyster, sometimes even a foot in diameter. These beds
are covered by others of a peculiar soft white stone, including much
gypsum, and resembling chalk, but really of a pumiceous nature. It is
highly remarkable, from being composed, to at least one-tenth part of
its bulk, of Infusoria: Professor Ehrenberg has already ascertained in
it thirty oceanic forms. This bed extends for 500 miles along the
coast, and probably for a considerably greater distance. At Port St.
Julian its thickness is more than 800 feet! These white beds are
everywhere capped by a mass of gravel, forming probably one of the
largest beds of shingle in the world: it certainly extends from near
the Rio Colorado to between 600 and 700 nautical miles southward, at
Santa Cruz (a river a little south of St. Julian) it reaches to the
foot of the Cordillera; half way up the river its thickness is more
than 200 feet; it probably everywhere extends to this great chain,
whence the well-rounded pebbles of porphyry have been derived: we may
consider its average breadth as 200 miles, and its average thickness as
about 50 feet. If this great bed of pebbles, without including the mud
necessarily derived from their attrition, was piled into a mound, it
would form a great mountain chain! When we consider that all these
pebbles, countless as the grains of sand in the desert, have been
derived from the slow falling of masses of rock on the old coast-lines
and banks of rivers, and that these fragments have been dashed into
smaller pieces, and that each of them has since been slowly rolled,
rounded, and far transported, the mind is stupefied in thinking over
the long, absolutely necessary, lapse of years. Yet all this gravel has
been transported, and probably rounded, subsequently to the deposition
of the white beds, and long subsequently to the underlying beds with
the tertiary shells.
Everything in this southern continent has been effected on a grand
scale: the land, from the Rio Plata to Tierra del Fuego, a distance of
1200 miles, has been raised in mass (and in Patagonia to a height of
between 300 and 400 feet), within the period of the now existing
sea-shells. The old and weathered shells left on the surface of the
upraised plain still partially retain their colours. The uprising
movement has been interrupted by at least eight long periods of rest,
during which the sea ate deeply back into the land, forming at
successive levels the long lines of cliffs or escarpments, which
separate the different plains as they rise like steps one behind the
other. The elevatory movement, and the eating-back power of the sea
during the periods of rest, have been equable over long lines of coast;
for I was astonished to find that the step-like plains stand at nearly
corresponding heights at far distant points. The lowest plain is 90
feet high; and the highest, which I ascended near the coast, is 950
feet; and of this only relics are left in the form of flat
gravel-capped hills. The upper plain of Santa Cruz slopes up to a
height of 3000 feet at the foot of the Cordillera. I have said that
within the period of existing sea-shells, Patagonia has been upraised
300 to 400 feet: I may add, that within the period when icebergs
transported boulders over the upper plain of Santa Cruz, the elevation
has been at least 1500 feet. Nor has Patagonia been
affected only by upward movements: the extinct tertiary shells from
Port St. Julian and Santa Cruz cannot have lived, according to
Professor E. Forbes, in a greater depth of water than from 40 to 250
feet; but they are now covered with sea-deposited strata from 800 to
1000 feet in thickness: hence the bed of the sea, on which these shells
once lived, must have sunk downwards several hundred feet, to allow of
the accumulation of the superincumbent strata. What a history of
geological changes does the simply-constructed coast of Patagonia
reveal!
[Illustration]
At Port St. Julian,[12] in some red mud capping the gravel on the
90-feet plain, I found half the skeleton of the Macrauchenia
Patachonica, a remarkable quadruped, full as large as a camel. It
belongs to the same division of the Pachydermata with the rhinoceros,
tapir, and palæotherium; but in the structure of the bones of its long
neck it shows a clear relation to the camel, or rather to the guanaco
and llama. From recent sea-shells being found on two of the higher
step-formed plains, which must have been modelled and upraised before
the mud was deposited in which the Macrauchenia was intombed, it is
certain that this curious quadruped lived long after the sea was
inhabited by its present shells. I was at first much surprised how a
large quadruped could so lately have subsisted, in lat. 49° 15′, on
these wretched gravel plains with their stunted vegetation; but the
relationship of the Macrauchenia to the Guanaco, now an inhabitant of
the most sterile parts, partly explains this difficulty.
[12] I have lately heard that Captain Sulivan, R.N., has found
numerous fossil bones, embedded in regular strata, on the banks of the
R. Gallegos, in lat. 51° 4′. Some of the bones are large; others are
small, and appear to have belonged to an armadillo. This is a most
interesting and important discovery.
The relationship, though distant, between the Macrauchenia and the
Guanaco, between the Toxodon and the Capybara,—the closer relationship
between the many extinct Edentata and the living sloths, ant-eaters,
and armadillos, now so eminently characteristic of South American
zoology,—and the still closer relationship between the fossil and
living species of Ctenomys and Hydrochærus, are most interesting facts.
This relationship is shown wonderfully—as wonderfully as between the
fossil and extinct Marsupial animals of Australia—by the
great collection lately brought to Europe from the caves of Brazil by
MM. Lund and Clausen. In this collection there are extinct species of
all the thirty-two genera, excepting four, of the terrestrial
quadrupeds now inhabiting the provinces in which the caves occur; and
the extinct species are much more numerous than those now living: there
are fossil ant-eaters, armadillos, tapirs, peccaries, guanacos,
opossums, and numerous South American gnawers and monkeys, and other
animals. This wonderful relationship in the same continent between the
dead and the living, will, I do not doubt, hereafter throw more light
on the appearance of organic beings on our earth, and their
disappearance from it, than any other class of facts.
It is impossible to reflect on the changed state of the American
continent without the deepest astonishment. Formerly it must have
swarmed with great monsters: now we find mere pigmies, compared with
the antecedent allied races. If Buffon had known of the gigantic sloth
and armadillo-like animals, and of the lost Pachydermata, he might have
said with a greater semblance of truth that the creative force in
America had lost its power, rather than that it had never possessed
great vigour. The greater number, if not all, of these extinct
quadrupeds lived at a late period, and were the contemporaries of most
of the existing sea-shells. Since they lived, no very great change in
the form of the land can have taken place. What, then, has exterminated
so many species and whole genera? The mind at first is irresistibly
hurried into the belief of some great catastrophe; but thus to destroy
animals, both large and small, in Southern Patagonia, in Brazil, on the
Cordillera of Peru, in North America up to Behring’s Straits, we must
shake the entire framework of the globe. An examination, moreover, of
the geology of La Plata and Patagonia, leads to the belief that all the
features of the land result from slow and gradual changes. It appears
from the character of the fossils in Europe, Asia, Australia, and in
North and South America, that those conditions which favour the life of
the _larger_ quadrupeds were lately coextensive with the world: what
those conditions were, no one has yet even conjectured. It could hardly
have been a change of temperature, which at about the same time
destroyed the inhabitants of tropical, temperate, and arctic latitudes
on both sides of the globe. In North America we positively know from
Mr. Lyell that the large quadrupeds lived subsequently to that period,
when boulders were brought into latitudes at which icebergs now never
arrive: from conclusive but indirect reasons we may feel sure, that in
the southern hemisphere the Macrauchenia, also, lived long subsequently
to the ice-transporting boulder-period. Did man, after his first inroad
into South America, destroy, as has been suggested, the unwieldy
Megatherium and the other Edentata? We must at least look to some other
cause for the destruction of the little tucutuco at Bahia Blanca, and
of the many fossil mice and other small quadrupeds in Brazil. No one
will imagine that a drought, even far severer than those which cause
such losses in the provinces of La Plata, could destroy every
individual of every species from Southern Patagonia to Behring’s
Straits. What shall we say of the extinction of the horse? Did those
plains fail of pasture, which have since been overrun by thousands and
hundreds of thousands of the descendants of the stock introduced by the
Spaniards? Have the subsequently introduced species consumed the food
of the great antecedent races? Can we believe that the Capybara has
taken the food of the Toxodon, the Guanaco of the Macrauchenia, the
existing small Edentata of their numerous gigantic prototypes?
Certainly, no fact in the long history of the world is so startling as
the wide and repeated exterminations of its inhabitants.
Nevertheless, if we consider the subject under another point of view,
it will appear less perplexing. We do not steadily bear in mind how
profoundly ignorant we are of the conditions of existence of every
animal; nor do we always remember that some check is constantly
preventing the too rapid increase of every organised being left in a
state of nature. The supply of food, on an average, remains constant,
yet the tendency in every animal to increase by propagation is
geometrical; and its surprising effects have nowhere been more
astonishingly shown, than in the case of the European animals run wild
during the last few centuries in America. Every animal in a state of
nature regularly breeds; yet in a species long established, any _great_
increase in numbers is obviously impossible, and must be checked by
some means. We are, nevertheless, seldom able with certainty to tell in
any given
species, at what period of life, or at what period of the year, or
whether only at long intervals, the check falls; or, again, what is the
precise nature of the check. Hence probably it is that we feel so
little surprise at one, of two species closely allied in habits, being
rare and the other abundant in the same district; or, again, that one
should be abundant in one district, and another, filling the same place
in the economy of nature, should be abundant in a neighbouring
district, differing very little in its conditions. If asked how this
is, one immediately replies that it is determined by some slight
difference in climate, food, or the number of enemies: yet how rarely,
if ever, we can point out the precise cause and manner of action of the
check! We are therefore, driven to the conclusion that causes generally
quite inappreciable by us, determine whether a given species shall be
abundant or scanty in numbers.
In the cases where we can trace the extinction of a species through
man, either wholly or in one limited district, we know that it becomes
rarer and rarer, and is then lost: it would be difficult to point out
any just distinction[13] between a species destroyed by man or by the
increase of its natural enemies. The evidence of rarity preceding
extinction is more striking in the successive tertiary strata, as
remarked by several able observers; it has often been found that a
shell very common in a tertiary stratum is now most rare, and has even
long been thought to be extinct. If then, as appears probable, species
first become rare and then extinct—if the too rapid increase of every
species, even the most favoured, is steadily checked, as we must admit,
though how and when it is hard to say—and if we see, without the
smallest surprise, though unable to assign the precise reason, one
species abundant and another closely-allied species rare in the same
district—why should we feel such great astonishment at the rarity being
carried a step farther to extinction? An action going on, on every side
of us, and yet barely appreciable, might surely be carried a little
farther without exciting our observation. Who would feel any great
surprise at hearing that the Magalonyx was formerly rare compared with
the Megatherium, or that one of the fossil monkeys was few in number
compared with one of the now
living monkeys? and yet in this comparative rarity, we should have the
plainest evidence of less favourable conditions for their existence. To
admit that species generally become rare before they become extinct—to
feel no surprise at the comparative rarity of one species with another,
and yet to call in some extraordinary agent and to marvel greatly when
a species ceases to exist, appears to me much the same as to admit that
sickness in the individual is the prelude to death—to feel no surprise
at sickness—but when the sick man dies to wonder, and to believe that
he died through violence.
[13] See the excellent remarks on this subject by Mr. Lyell, in his
_Principles of Geology._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter IX
Santa Cruz—Expedition up the River—Indians—Immense Streams of basaltic
lava—Fragments not transported by the River—Excavation of the
valley—Condor, habits of—Cordillera—Erratic boulders of great
size—Indian relics—Return to the ship—Falkland Islands—Wild horses,
cattle, rabbits—Wolf-like fox—Fire made of bones—Manner of hunting wild
cattle—Geology—Streams of stones—Scenes of violence—Penguin—Geese—Eggs
of Doris—Compound animals.
SANTA CRUZ, PATAGONIA, AND THE FALKLAND ISLANDS.
_April_ 13_th_, 1834.—The _Beagle_ anchored within the mouth of the
Santa Cruz. This river is situated about sixty miles south of Port St.
Julian. During the last voyage Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up
it, but then, from the want of provisions,
was obliged to return. Excepting what was discovered at that time,
scarcely anything was known about this large river. Captain Fitz Roy
now determined to follow its course as far as time would allow. On the
18th three whale-boats started, carrying three weeks’ provisions; and
the party consisted of twenty-five souls—a force which would have been
sufficient to have defied a host of Indians. With a strong flood-tide
and a fine day we made a good run, soon drank some of the fresh water,
and were at night nearly above the tidal influence.
The river here assumed a size and appearance which, even at the highest
point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It was generally
from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the middle about
seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current, which in its whole
course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is perhaps
its most remarkable feature. The water is of a fine blue colour, but
with a slight milky tinge, and not so transparent as at first sight
would have been expected. It flows over a bed of pebbles, like those
which compose the beach and the surrounding plains. It runs in a
winding course through a valley, which extends in a direct line
westward. This valley varies from five to ten miles in breadth; it is
bounded by step-formed terraces, which rise in most parts, one above
the other, to the height of five hundred feet, and have on the opposite
sides a remarkable correspondence.
_April_ 19_th._—Against so strong a current it was, of course, quite
impossible to row or sail: consequently the three boats were fastened
together head and stern, two hands left in each, and the rest came on
shore to track. As the general arrangements made by Captain Fitz Roy
were very good for facilitating the work of all, and as all had a share
in it, I will describe the system. The party, including every one, was
divided into two spells, each of which hauled at the tracking line
alternately for an hour and a half. The officers of each boat lived
with, ate the same food, and slept in the same tent with their crew, so
that each boat was quite independent of the others. After sunset the
first level spot where any bushes were growing was chosen for our
night’s lodging. Each of the crew took it in turns to be cook.
Immediately the boat was hauled up, the cook made his fire; two others
pitched the tent; the coxswain handed the things out of the boat; the
rest carried them up to the tents
and collected firewood. By this order, in half an hour everything was
ready for the night. A watch of two men and an officer was always kept,
whose duty it was to look after the boats, keep up the fire, and guard
against Indians. Each in the party had his one hour every night.
During this day we tracked but a short distance, for there were many
islets, covered by thorny bushes, and the channels between them were
shallow.
_April_ 20_th._—We passed the islands and set to work. Our regular
day’s march, although it was hard enough, carried us on an average only
ten miles in a straight line, and perhaps fifteen or twenty altogether.
Beyond the place where we slept last night, the country is completely
_terra incognita_, for it was there that Captain Stokes turned back. We
saw in the distance a great smoke, and found the skeleton of a horse,
so we knew that Indians were in the neighbourhood. On the next morning
(21st) tracks of a party of horse, and marks left by the trailing of
the chuzos, or long spears, were observed on the ground. It was
generally thought that the Indians had reconnoitred us during the
night. Shortly afterwards we came to a spot where, from the fresh
footsteps of men, children, and horses, it was evident that the party
had crossed the river.
_April_ 22_nd._—The country remained the same, and was extremely
uninteresting. The complete similarity of the productions throughout
Patagonia is one of its most striking characters. The level plains of
arid shingle support the same stunted and dwarf plants; and in the
valleys the same thorn-bearing bushes grow. Everywhere we see the same
birds and insects. Even the very banks of the river and of the clear
streamlets which entered it, were scarcely enlivened by a brighter tint
of green. The curse of sterility is on the land, and the water flowing
over a bed of pebbles partakes of the same curse. Hence the number of
waterfowl is very scanty; for there is nothing to support life in the
stream of this barren river.
Patagonia, poor as she is in some respects, can however boast of a
greater stock of small rodents[1] than perhaps any other country in the
world. Several species of mice are externally
characterised by large thin ears and a very fine fur. These little
animals swarm amongst the thickets in the valleys, where they cannot
for months together taste a drop of water excepting the dew. They all
seem to be cannibals; for no sooner was a mouse caught in one of my
traps than it was devoured by others. A small and delicately-shaped
fox, which is likewise very abundant, probably derives its entire
support from these small animals. The guanaco is also in his proper
district, herds of fifty or a hundred were common; and, as I have
stated, we saw one which must have contained at least five hundred. The
puma, with the condor and other carrion-hawks in its train, follows and
preys upon these animals. The footsteps of the puma were to be seen
almost everywhere on the banks of the river; and the remains of several
guanacos, with their necks dislocated and bones broken, showed how they
had met their death.
[1] The desserts of Syria are characterised, according to Volney (tome
i, p. 351), by woody bushes, numerous rats, gazelles and hares. In the
landscape of Patagonia the guanaco replaces the gazelle, and the
agouti the hare.
_April_ 24_th._—Like the navigators of old when approaching an unknown
land, we examined and watched for the most trivial sign of a change.
The drifted trunk of a tree, or a boulder of primitive rock, was hailed
with joy, as if we had seen a forest growing on the flanks of the
Cordillera. The top, however, of a heavy bank of clouds, which remained
almost constantly in one position, was the most promising sign, and
eventually turned out a true harbinger. At first the clouds were
mistaken for the mountains themselves, instead of the masses of vapour
condensed by their icy summits.
_April_ 26_th._—We this day met with a marked change in the geological
structure of the plains. From the first starting I had carefully
examined the gravel in the river, and for the two last days had noticed
the presence of a few small pebbles of a very cellular basalt. These
gradually increased in number and in size, but none were as large as a
man’s head. This morning, however, pebbles of the same rock, but more
compact, suddenly became abundant, and in the course of half an hour we
saw, at the distance of five or six miles, the angular edge of a great
basaltic platform. When we arrived at its base we found the stream
bubbling among the fallen blocks. For the next twenty-eight miles the
river-course was encumbered with these basaltic masses. Above that
limit immense fragments of primitive rocks, derived from the
surrounding boulder-formation, were equally numerous. None of the
fragments of any considerable size had been washed
more than three or four miles down the river below their parent-source:
considering the singular rapidity of the great body of water in the
Santa Cruz, and that no still reaches occur in any part, this example
is a most striking one, of the inefficiency of rivers in transporting
even moderately-sized fragments.
The basalt is only lava which has flowed beneath the sea; but the
eruptions must have been on the grandest scale. At the point where we
first met this formation it was 120 feet in thickness; following up the
river-course, the surface imperceptibly rose and the mass became
thicker, so that at forty miles above the first station it was 320 feet
thick. What the thickness may be close to the Cordillera, I have no
means of knowing, but the platform there attains a height of about
three thousand feet above the level of the sea: we must therefore look
to the mountains of that great chain for its source; and worthy of such
a source are streams that have flowed over the gently inclined bed of
the sea to a distance of one hundred miles. At the first glance of the
basaltic cliffs on the opposite sides of the valley it was evident that
the strata once were united. What power, then, has removed along a
whole line of country a solid mass of very hard rock, which had an
average thickness of nearly three hundred feet, and a breadth varying
from rather less than two miles to four miles? The river, though it has
so little power in transporting even inconsiderable fragments, yet in
the lapse of ages might produce by its gradual erosion an effect, of
which it is difficult to judge the amount. But in this case,
independently of the insignificance of such an agency, good reasons can
be assigned for believing that this valley was formerly occupied by an
arm of the sea. It is needless in this work to detail the arguments
leading to this conclusion, derived from the form and the nature of the
step-formed terraces on both sides of the valley, from the manner in
which the bottom of the valley near the Andes expands into a great
estuary-like plain with sand-hillocks on it, and from the occurrence of
a few sea-shells lying in the bed of the river. If I had space I could
prove that South America was formerly here cut off by a strait, joining
the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, like that of Magellan. But it may yet
be asked, how has the solid basalt been removed? Geologists formerly
would have brought into play the violent action of some overwhelming
debacle; but in this case such a
supposition would have been quite inadmissible; because, the same
step-like plains with existing sea-shells lying on their surface, which
front the long line of the Patagonian coast, sweep up on each side of
the valley of Santa Cruz. No possible action of any flood could thus
have modelled the land, either within the valley or along the open
coast; and by the formation of such step-like plains or terraces the
valley itself has been hollowed out. Although we know that there are
tides which run within the Narrows of the Strait of Magellan at the
rate of eight knots an hour, yet we must confess that it makes the head
almost giddy to reflect on the number of years, century after century,
which the tides, unaided by a heavy surf, must have required to have
corroded so vast an area and thickness of solid basaltic lava.
Nevertheless, we must believe that the strata undermined by the waters
of this ancient strait were broken up into huge fragments, and these
lying scattered on the beach were reduced first to smaller blocks, then
to pebbles, and lastly to the most impalpable mud, which the tides
drifted far into the Eastern or Western Ocean.
With the change in the geological structure of the plains the character
of the landscape likewise altered. While rambling up some of the narrow
and rocky defiles, I could almost have fancied myself transported back
again to the barren valleys of the island of St. Jago. Among the
basaltic cliffs I found some plants which I had seen nowhere else, but
others I recognised as being wanderers from Tierra del Fuego. These
porous rocks serve as a reservoir for the scanty rain-water; and
consequently on the line where the igneous and sedimentary formations
unite, some small springs (most rare occurrences in Patagonia) burst
forth; and they could be distinguished at a distance by the
circumscribed patches of bright green herbage.
[Illustration]
_April_ 27_th._—The bed of the river became rather narrower, and hence
the stream more rapid. It here ran at the rate of six knots an hour.
From this cause, and from the many great angular fragments, tracking
the boats became both dangerous and laborious.
This day I shot a condor. It measured from tip to tip of the wings
eight and a half feet, and from beak to tail four
feet. This bird is known to have a wide geographical range, being found
on the west coast of South America, from the Strait of Magellan along
the Cordillera as far as eight degrees north of the equator. The steep
cliff near the mouth of the Rio Negro is its northern limit on the
Patagonian coast; and they have there wandered about four hundred miles
from the great central line of their habitation in the Andes. Further
south, among the bold precipices at the head of Port Desire, the condor
is not uncommon; yet only a few stragglers occasionally visit the
sea-coast. A line of cliff near the mouth of the Santa Cruz is
frequented by these birds, and about eighty miles up the river, where
the sides of the valley are formed by steep basaltic precipices, the
condor reappears. From these facts, it seems that the condors require
perpendicular cliffs. In Chile, they haunt, during the greater part of
the year, the lower country near the shores of the Pacific, and at
night several roost together in one tree; but in the early part of
summer they retire to the most inaccessible parts of the inner
Cordillera, there to breed in peace.
With respect to their propagation, I was told by the country people in
Chile that the condor makes no sort of nest, but in the months of
November and December lays two large white eggs on a shelf of bare
rock. It is said that the young condors cannot fly for an entire year;
and long after they are able, they continue to roost by night, an hunt
by day with their parents. The old birds generally live in pairs; but
among the inland basaltic cliffs of the Santa Cruz I found a spot where
scores must usually haunt. On coming suddenly to the brow of the
precipice, it was a grand spectacle to see between twenty and thirty of
these great birds start heavily from their resting-place, and wheel
away in majestic circles. From the quantity of dung on the rocks, they
must long have frequented this cliff for roosting and breeding. Having
gorged themselves with carrion on the plains below, they retire to
these favourite ledges to digest their food. From these facts, the
condor, like the gallinazo must to a certain degree be considered as a
gregarious bird. In this part of the country they live altogether on
the guanacos which have died a natural death, or as more commonly
happens, have been killed by the pumas. I believe, from what I saw in
Patagonia, that they do not on ordinary occasions
extend their daily excursions to any great distance from their regular
sleeping-places.
The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over a
certain spot in the most graceful circles. On some occasions I am sure
that they do this only for pleasure, but on others, the Chileno
countryman tells you that they are watching a dying animal, or the puma
devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and then suddenly all
rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the puma which, watching
the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the robbers. Besides feeding
on carrion, the condors frequently attack young goats and lambs; and
the shepherd-dogs are trained, whenever they pass over, to run out, and
looking upwards to bark violently. The Chilenos destroy and catch
numbers. Two methods are used; one is to place a carcass on a level
piece of ground within an enclosure of sticks with an opening, and when
the condors are gorged, to gallop up on horseback to the entrance, and
thus enclose them: for when this bird has not space to run, it cannot
give its body sufficient momentum to rise from the ground. The second
method is to mark the trees in which, frequently to the number of five
or six together, they roost, and then at night to climb up and noose
them. They are such heavy sleepers, as I have myself witnessed, that
this is not a difficult task. At Valparaiso I have seen a living condor
sold for sixpence, but the common price is eight or ten shillings. One
which I saw brought in, had been tied with rope, and was much injured;
yet, the moment the line was cut by which its bill was secured,
although surrounded by people, it began ravenously to tear a piece of
carrion. In a garden at the same place, between twenty and thirty were
kept alive. They were fed only once a week, but they appeared in pretty
good health.[2] The Chileno countrymen assert that the condor will
live, and retain its vigour, between five and six weeks without eating:
I cannot answer for the truth of this, but it is a cruel experiment,
which very likely has been tried.
[2] I noticed that several hours before any one of the condors died,
all the lice, with which it was infested, crawled to the outside
feathers. I was assured that this always happens.
When an animal is killed in the country, it is well known that the
condors, like other carrion-vultures, soon gain intelligence
of it, and congregate in an inexplicable manner. In most cases it must
not be overlooked, that the birds have discovered their prey, and have
picked the skeleton clean, before the flesh is in the least degree
tainted. Remembering the experiments of M. Audubon, on the little
smelling powers of carrion-hawks, I tried in the above-mentioned garden
the following experiment: the condors were tied, each by a rope, in a
long row at the bottom of a wall; and having folded up a piece of meat
in white paper, I walked backwards and forwards, carrying it in my hand
at the distance of about three yards from them, but no notice whatever
was taken. I then threw it on the ground, within one yard of an old
male bird; he looked at it for a moment with attention, but then
regarded it no more. With a stick I pushed it closer and closer, until
at last he touched it with his beak; the paper was then instantly torn
off with fury, and at the same moment, every bird in the long row began
struggling and flapping its wings. Under the same circumstances it
would have been quite impossible to have deceived a dog. The evidence
in favour of and against the acute smelling powers of carrion-vultures
is singularly balanced. Professor Owen has demonstrated that the
olfactory nerves of the turkey-buzzard (Cathartes aura) are highly
developed, and on the evening when Mr. Owen’s paper was read at the
Zoological Society, it was mentioned by a gentleman that he had seen
the carrion-hawks in the West Indies on two occasions collect on the
roof of a house, when a corpse had become offensive from not having
been buried: in this case, the intelligence could hardly have been
acquired by sight. On the other hand, besides the experiments of
Audubon and that one by myself, Mr. Bachman has tried in the United
States many varied plans, showing that neither the turkey-buzzard (the
species dissected by Professor Owen) nor the gallinazo find their food
by smell. He covered portions of highly-offensive offal with a thin
canvas cloth, and strewed pieces of meat on it: these the
carrion-vultures ate up, and then remained quietly standing, with their
beaks within the eighth of an inch of the putrid mass, without
discovering it. A small rent was made in the canvas, and the offal was
immediately discovered; the canvas was replaced by a fresh piece, and
meat again put on it, and was again devoured by the vultures without
their discovering the
hidden mass on which they were trampling. These facts are attested by
the signatures of six gentlemen, besides that of Mr. Bachman.[3]
[3] Loudon’s _Magazine of Natural History_, vol. vii.
Often when lying down to rest on the open plains, on looking upwards, I
have seen carrion-hawks sailing through the air at a great height.
Where the country is level I do not believe a space of the heavens, of
more than fifteen degrees above the horizon, is commonly viewed with
any attention by a person either walking or on horseback. If such be
the case, and the vulture is on the wing at a height of between three
and four thousand feet, before it could come within the range of
vision, its distance in a straight line from the beholder’s eye would
be rather more than two British miles. Might it not thus readily be
overlooked? When an animal is killed by the sportsman in a lonely
valley, may he not all the while be watched from above by the
sharp-sighted bird? And will not the manner of its descent proclaim
throughout the district to the whole family of carrion-feeders, that
their prey is at hand?
When the condors are wheeling in a flock round and round any spot, their
flight is beautiful. Except when rising from the ground, I do not
recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings. Near
Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once taking
off my eyes: they moved in large curves, sweeping in circles,
descending and ascending without giving a single flap. As they glided
close over my head, I intently watched from an oblique position the
outlines of the separate and great terminal feathers of each wing; and
these separate feathers, if there had been the least vibratory
movement, would have appeared as if blended together; but they were
seen distinct against the blue sky. The head and neck were moved
frequently, and apparently with force; and the extended wings seemed to
form the fulcrum on which the movements of the neck, body and tail
acted. If the bird wished to descend, the wings were for a moment
collapsed; and when again expanded with an altered inclination, the
momentum gained by the rapid descent seemed to urge the bird upwards
with the even and steady movement of a paper kite. In the case of any
bird _soaring_, its motion must be
sufficiently rapid, so that the action of the inclined surface of its
body on the atmosphere may counterbalance its gravity. The force to
keep up the momentum of a body moving in a horizontal plane in the air
(in which there is so little friction) cannot be great, and this force
is all that is wanted. The movement of the neck and body of the condor,
we must suppose is sufficient for this. However this may be, it is
truly wonderful and beautiful to see so great a bird, hour after hour,
without any apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over mountain and
river.
_April_ 29_th._—From some high land we hailed with joy the white
summits of the Cordillera, as they were seen occasionally peeping
through their dusky envelope of clouds. During the few succeeding days
we continued to get on slowly, for we found the river-course very
tortuous, and strewed with immense fragments of various ancient slaty
rocks, and of granite. The plain bordering the valley had here attained
an elevation of about 1100 feet above the river, and its character was
much altered. The well-rounded pebbles of porphyry were mingled with
many immense angular fragments of basalt and of primary rocks. The
first of these erratic boulders which I noticed was sixty-seven miles
distant from the nearest mountain; another which I measured was five
yards square, and projected five feet above the gravel. Its edges were
so angular, and its size so great, that I at first mistook it for a
rock _in situ_, and took out my compass to observe the direction of its
cleavage. The plain here was not quite so level as that nearer the
coast, but yet it betrayed no signs of any great violence. Under these
circumstances it is, I believe, quite impossible to explain the
transportal of these gigantic masses of rock so many miles from their
parent-source, on any theory except by that of floating icebergs.
During the two last days we met with signs of horses, and with several
small articles which had belonged to the Indians—such as parts of a
mantle and a bunch of ostrich feathers—but they appeared to have been
lying long on the ground. Between the place where the Indians had so
lately crossed the river and this neighbourhood, though so many miles
apart, the country appears to be quite unfrequented. At first,
considering
the abundance of the guanacos, I was surprised at this; but it is
explained by the stony nature of the plains, which would soon disable
an unshod horse from taking part in the chase. Nevertheless, in two
places in this very central region, I found small heaps of stones,
which I do not think could have been accidentally thrown together. They
were placed on points projecting over the edge of the highest lava
cliff, and they resembled, but on a small scale, those near Port
Desire.
_May_ 4_th._—Captain Fitz Roy determined to take the boats no higher.
The river had a winding course, and was very rapid; and the appearance
of the country offered no temptation to proceed any farther. Everywhere
we met with the same productions, and the same dreary landscape. We
were now one hundred and forty miles distant from the Atlantic, and
about sixty from the nearest arm of the Pacific. The valley in this
upper part expanded into a wide basin, bounded on the north and south
by the basaltic platforms, and fronted by the long range of the
snow-clad Cordillera. But we viewed these grand mountains with regret,
for we were obliged to imagine their nature and productions, instead of
standing, as we had hoped, on their summits. Besides the useless loss
of time which an attempt to ascend the river any higher would have cost
us, we had already been for some days on half allowance of bread. This,
although really enough for reasonable men, was, after a hard day’s
march, rather scanty food: a light stomach and an easy digestion are
good things to talk about, but very unpleasant in practice.
5_th._—Before sunrise we commenced our descent. We shot down the stream
with great rapidity, generally at the rate of ten knots an hour. In
this one day we effected what had cost us five and a half hard days’
labour in ascending. On the 8th we reached the _Beagle_ after our
twenty-one days’ expedition. Every one, excepting myself, had cause to
be dissatisfied; but to me the ascent afforded a most interesting
section of the great tertiary formation of Patagonia.
On _March_ 1_st_, 1833, and again on _March_ 16_th, 1834, the
_Beagle_ anchored in Berkeley Sound, in East Falkland Island. This
archipelago is situated in nearly the same latitude with the mouth of
the Strait of Magellan; it covers a space of one hundred and twenty by
sixty geographical miles, and is a little more than half the size of
Ireland. After the possession of these miserable islands had been
contested by France, Spain, and England, they were left uninhabited.
The government of Buenos Ayres then sold them to a private individual,
but likewise used them, as old Spain had done before, for a penal
settlement. England claimed her right an seized them. The Englishman
who was left in charge of the flag was consequently murdered. A British
officer was next sent, unsupported by any power: and when we arrived,
we found him in charge of a population, of which rather more than half
were runaway rebels and murderers.
The theatre is worthy of the scenes acted on it. An undulating land,
with a desolate and wretched aspect, is everywhere covered by a peaty
soil and wiry grass, of one monotonous brown colour. Here and there a
peak or ridge of grey quartz rock breaks through the smooth surface.
Every one has heard of the climate of these regions; it may be compared
to that which is experienced at the height of between one and two
thousand feet, on the mountains of North Wales; having however less
sunshine and less frost, but more wind and rain.[4]
[4] From accounts published since our voyage, and more especially from
several interesting letters from Capt. Sulivan, R.N., employed on the
survey, it appears that we took an exaggerated view of the badness of
the climate on these islands. But when I reflect on the almost
universal covering of peat, and on the fact of wheat seldom ripening
here, I can hardly believe that the climate in summer is so fine and
dry as it has lately been represented.
16_th._—I will now describe a short excursion which I made round a part
of this island. In the morning I started with six horses and two
Gauchos: the latter were capital men for the purpose, and well
accustomed to living on their own resources. The weather was very
boisterous and cold, with heavy hail-storms. We got on, however, pretty
well, but, except the geology, nothing could be less interesting than
our day’s ride. The country is uniformly the same undulating moorland;
the surface being covered by light brown withered grass and a few very
small shrubs, all springing out of an elastic peaty soil. In the
valleys
here and there might be seen a small flock of wild geese, and
everywhere the ground was so soft that the snipe were able to feed.
Besides these two birds there were few others. There is one main range
of hills, nearly two thousand feet in height, and composed of quartz
rock, the rugged and barren crests of which gave us some trouble to
cross. On the south side we came to the best country for wild cattle;
we met, however, no great number, for they had been lately much
harassed.
In the evening we came across a small herd. One of my companions, St.
Jago by name, soon separated a fat cow; he threw the bolas, and it
struck her legs, but failed in becoming entangled. Then dropping his
hat to mark the spot where the balls were left, while at full gallop he
uncoiled his lazo, and after a most severe chase again came up to the
cow, and caught her round the horns. The other Gaucho had gone on ahead
with the spare horses, so that St. Jago had some difficulty in killing
the furious beast. He managed to get her on a level piece of ground, by
taking advantage of her as often as she rushed at him; and when she
would not move, my horse, from having been trained, would canter up,
and with his chest give her a violent push. But when on level ground it
does not appear an easy job for one man to kill a beast mad with
terror. Nor would it be so if the horse, when left to itself without
its rider, did not soon learn, for its own safety, to keep the lazo
tight; so that, if the cow or ox moves forward, the horse moves just as
quickly forward; otherwise, it stands motionless leaning on one side.
This horse, however, was a young one, and would not stand still, but
gave in to the cow as she struggled. It was admirable to see with what
dexterity St. Jago dodged behind the beast, till at last he contrived
to give the fatal touch to the main tendon of the hind leg; after
which, without much difficulty, he drove his knife into the head of the
spinal marrow, and the cow dropped as if struck by lightning. He cut
off pieces of flesh with the skin to it, but without any bones,
sufficient for our expedition. We then rode on to our sleeping-place,
and had for supper “carne con cuero,” or meat roasted with the skin on
it. This is as superior to common beef as venison is to mutton. A large
circular piece taken from the back is roasted on the embers with the
hide downwards and in the form of a saucer, so that none of the gravy
is lost. If any
worthy alderman had supped with us that evening, “carne con cuero,”
without doubt, would soon have been celebrated in London.
During the night it rained, and the next day (17th) was very stormy,
with much hail and snow. We rode across the island to the neck of land
which joins the Rincon del Tor (the great peninsula at the S.W.
extremity) to the rest of the island. From the great number of cows
which have been killed, there is a large proportion of bulls. These
wander about single, or two and three together, and are very savage. I
never saw such magnificent beasts; they equalled in the size of their
huge heads and necks the Grecian marble sculptures. Captain Sulivan
informs me that the hide of an average-sized bull weighs forty-seven
pounds, whereas a hide of this weight, less thoroughly dried, is
considered as a very heavy one at Monte Video. The young bulls
generally run away for a short distance; but the old ones do not stir a
step, except to rush at man and horse; and many horses have been thus
killed. An old bull crossed a boggy stream, and took his stand on the
opposite side to us; we in vain tried to drive him away, and failing,
were obliged to make a large circuit. The Gauchos in revenge determined
to emasculate him and render him for the future harmless. It was very
interesting to see how art completely mastered force. One lazo was
thrown over his horns as he rushed at the horse, and another round his
hind legs: in a minute the monster was stretched powerless on the
ground. After the lazo has once been drawn tightly round the horns of a
furious animal, it does not at first appear an easy thing to disengage
it again without killing the beast: nor, I apprehend, would it be so if
the man was by himself. By the aid, however, of a second person
throwing his lazo so as to catch both hind legs, it is quickly managed:
for the animal, as long as its hind legs are kept outstretched, is
quite helpless, and the first man can with his hands loosen his lazo
from the horns, and then quietly mount his horse; but the moment the
second man, by backing ever so little, relaxes the strain, the lazo
slips off the legs of the struggling beast which then rises free,
shakes himself, and vainly rushes at his antagonist.
During our whole ride we saw only one troop of wild horses. These
animals, as well as the cattle, were introduced by the
French in 1764, since which time both have greatly increased. It is a
curious fact that the horses have never left the eastern end of the
island, although there is no natural boundary to prevent them from
roaming, and that part of the island is not more tempting than the
rest. The Gauchos whom I asked, though asserting this to be the case,
were unable to account for it, except from the strong attachment which
horses have to any locality to which they are accustomed. Considering
that the island does not appear fully stocked, and that there are no
beasts of prey, I was particularly curious to know what has checked
their originally rapid increase. That in a limited island some check
would sooner or later supervene, is inevitable; but why has the
increase of the horse been checked sooner than that of the cattle?
Capt. Sulivan has taken much pains for me in this inquiry. The Gauchos
employed here attribute it chiefly to the stallions constantly roaming
from place to place, and compelling the mares to accompany them,
whether or not the young foals are able to follow. One Gaucho told
Capt. Sulivan that he had watched a stallion for a whole hour,
violently kicking and biting a mare till he forced her to leave her
foal to its fate. Captain Sulivan can so far corroborate this curious
account, that he has several times found young foals dead, whereas he
has never found a dead calf. Moreover, the dead bodies of full-grown
horses are more frequently found, as if more subject to disease or
accidents than those of the cattle. From the softness of the ground
their hoofs often grow irregularly to a great length, and this causes
lameness. The predominant colours are roan and iron-grey. All the
horses bred here, both tame and wild, are rather small-sized, though
generally in good condition; and they have lost so much strength, that
they are unfit to be used in taking wild cattle with the lazo: in
consequence, it is necessary to go to the great expense of importing
fresh horses from the Plata. At some future period the southern
hemisphere probably will have its breed of Falkland ponies, as the
northern has its Shetland breed.
The cattle, instead of having degenerated like the horses, seem, as
before remarked, to have increased in size; and they are much more
numerous than the horses. Capt. Sulivan informs me that they vary much
less in the general form of their bodies and in the shape of their
horns than English cattle. In colour they differ much; and it is a
remarkable circumstance,
that in different parts of this one small island, different colours
predominate. Round Mount Usborne, at a height of from 1000 to 1500 feet
above the sea, about half of some of the herds are mouse or lead
coloured, a tint which is not common in other parts of the island. Near
Port Pleasant dark brown prevails, whereas south of Choiseul Sound
(which almost divides the island into two parts) white beasts with
black heads and feet are the most common: in all parts black, and some
spotted animals may be observed. Capt. Sulivan remarks that the
difference in the prevailing colours was so obvious, that in looking
for the herds near Port Pleasant, they appeared from a long distance
like black spots, whilst south of Choiseul Sound they appeared like
white spots on the hill-sides. Capt. Sulivan thinks that the herds do
not mingle; and it is a singular fact, that the mouse-coloured cattle,
though living on the high land, calve about a month earlier in the
season than the other coloured beasts on the lower land. It is
interesting thus to find the once domesticated cattle breaking into
three colours, of which some one colour would in all probability
ultimately prevail over the others, if the herd were left undisturbed
for the next several centuries.
The rabbit is another animal which has been introduced, and has
succeeded very well; so that they abound over large parts of the
island. Yet, like the horses, they are confined within certain limits;
for they have not crossed the central chain of hills, nor would they
have extended even so far as its base, if, as the Gauchos informed me,
small colonies had not been carried there. I should not have supposed
that these animals, natives of Northern Africa, could have existed in a
climate so humid as this, and which enjoys so little sunshine that even
wheat ripens only occasionally. It is asserted that in Sweden, which
any one would have thought a more favourable climate, the rabbit cannot
live out of doors. The first few pairs, moreover, had here to contend
against pre-existing enemies, in the fox and some large hawks. The
French naturalists have considered the black variety a distinct
species, and called it Lepus Magellanicus.[5]
They imagined that Magellan, when talking of an animal under the name
of “conejos” in the Strait of Magellan, referred to this species; but
he was alluding to a small cavy, which to this day is thus called by
the Spaniards. The Gauchos laughed at the idea of the black kind being
different from the grey, and they said that at all events it had not
extended its range any farther than the grey kind; that the two were
never found separate; and that they readily bred together, and produced
piebald offspring. Of the latter I now possess a specimen, and it is
marked about the head differently from the French specific description.
This circumstance shows how cautious naturalists should be in making
species; for even Cuvier, on looking at the skull of one of these
rabbits, thought it was probably distinct!
[5] Lesson’s _Zoology of the Voyage of the Coquille_, tome i, p. 168.
All the early voyagers, and especially Bougainville, distinctly state
that the wolf-like fox was the only native animal on the island. The
distinction of the rabbit as a species is taken from peculiarities in
the fur, from the shape of the head, and from the shortness of the
ears. I may here observe that the difference between the Irish and
English hare rests upon nearly similar characters, only more strongly
marked.
The only quadruped native to the island[6] is a large wolf-like fox
(Canis antarcticus), which is common to both East and West Falkland. I
have no doubt it is a peculiar species, and confined to this
archipelago; because many sealers, Gauchos, and Indians, who have
visited these islands, all maintain that no such animal is found in any
part of South America. Molina, from a similarity in habits, thought
that this was the same with his “culpeu”;[7] but I have seen both, and
they are quite distinct. These wolves are well known from Byron’s
account of their tameness and curiosity, which the sailors, who ran
into the water to avoid them, mistook for fierceness. To this day their
manners remain the same. They have been observed to enter a tent, and
actually pull some meat from beneath the head of a sleeping seaman. The
Gauchos also have frequently in the evening killed them, by holding out
a piece of meat in one hand, and in the other a knife ready to stick
them. As far as I am aware, there is no other instance in any part of
the world, of so small a mass of broken land, distant from a continent,
possessing so large an aboriginal quadruped peculiar to itself. Their
numbers have rapidly decreased; they are already banished from that
half of the island which lies to the eastward of the neck of land
between St. Salvador Bay and Berkeley Sound.
Within a very few years after these islands shall have become regularly
settled, in all probability this fox will be classed with the dodo, as
an animal which has perished from the face of the earth.
[6] I have reason, however, to suspect that there is a field-mouse.
The common European rat and mouse have roamed far from the habitations
of the settlers. The common hog has also run wild on one islet; all
are of a black colour: the boars are very fierce, and have great
tusks.
[7] The “culpeu” is the Canis Magellanicus brought home by Captain
King from the Strait of Magellan. It is common in Chile.
At night (17th) we slept on the neck of land at the head of Choiseul
Sound, which forms the south-west peninsula. The valley was pretty well
sheltered from the cold wind; but there was very little brushwood for
fuel. The Gauchos, however, soon found what, to my great surprise, made
nearly as hot a fire as coals; this was the skeleton of a bullock
lately killed, from which the flesh had been picked by the
carrion-hawks. They told me that in winter they often killed a beast,
cleaned the flesh from the bones with their knives and then with these
same bones roasted the meat for their suppers.
18_th._—It rained during nearly the whole day. At night we managed,
however, with our saddle-cloths to keep ourselves pretty well dry and
warm; but the ground on which we slept was on each occasion nearly in
the state of a bog, and there was not a dry spot to sit down on after
our day’s ride. I have in another part stated how singular it is that
there should be absolutely no trees on these islands, although Tierra
del Fuego is covered by one large forest. The largest bush in the
island (belonging to the family of Compositæ) is scarcely so tall as
our gorse. The best fuel is afforded by a green little bush about the
size of common heath, which has the useful property of burning while
fresh and green. It was very surprising to see the Gauchos, in the
midst of rain and everything soaking wet, with nothing more than a
tinder-box and a piece of rag, immediately make a fire. They sought
beneath the tufts of grass and bushes for a few dry twigs, and these
they rubbed into fibres; then surrounding them with coarser twigs,
something like a bird’s nest, they put the rag with its spark of fire
in the middle and covered it up. The nest being then held up to the
wind, by degrees it smoked more and more, and at last burst out in
flames. I do not think any other method would have had a chance of
succeeding with such damp materials.
19_th._—Each morning, from not having ridden for some time previously,
I was very stiff. I was surprised to hear the
Gauchos, who have from infancy almost lived on horseback, say that,
under similar circumstances, they always suffer. St. Jago told me, that
having been confined for three months by illness, he went out hunting
wild cattle, and in consequence, for the next two days, his thighs were
so stiff that he was obliged to lie in bed. This shows that the
Gauchos, although they do not appear to do so, yet really must exert
much muscular effort in riding. The hunting wild cattle, in a country
so difficult to pass as this is on account of the swampy ground, must
be very hard work. The Gauchos say they often pass at full speed over
ground which would be impassable at a slower pace; in the same manner
as a man is able to skate over thin ice. When hunting, the party
endeavours to get as close as possible to the herd without being
discovered. Each man carries four or five pair of the bolas; these he
throws one after the other at as many cattle, which, when once
entangled, are left for some days, till they become a little exhausted
by hunger and struggling. They are then let free and driven towards a
small herd of tame animals, which have been brought to the spot on
purpose. From their previous treatment, being too much terrified to
leave the herd, they are easily driven, if their strength last out, to
the settlement.
The weather continued so very bad that we determine to make a push, and
try to reach the vessel before night. From the quantity of rain which
had fallen, the surface of the whole country was swampy. I suppose my
horse fell at least a dozen times, and sometimes the whole six horses
were floundering in the mud together. All the little streams are
bordered by soft peat, which makes it very difficult for the horses to
leap them without falling. To complete our discomforts we were obliged
to cross the head of a creek of the sea, in which the water was as high
as our horses’ backs; and the little waves, owing to the violence of
the wind, broke over us, and made us very wet and cold. Even the
iron-framed Gauchos professed themselves glad when they reached the
settlement, after our little excursion.
The geological structure of these islands is in most respects simple.
The lower country consists of clay-slate and sandstone, containing
fossils, very closely related to, but not identical with,
those found in the Silurian formations of Europe; the hills are formed
of white granular quartz rock. The strata of the latter are frequently
arched with perfect symmetry, and the appearance of some of the masses
is in consequence most singular. Pernety[8] has devoted several pages
to the description of a Hill of Ruins, the successive strata of which
he has justly compared to the seats of an amphitheatre. The quartz rock
must have been quite pasty when it underwent such remarkable flexures
without being shattered into fragments. As the quartz insensibly passes
into the sandstone, it seems probable that the former owes its origin
to the sandstone having been heated to such a degree that it became
viscid, and upon cooling crystallised. While in the soft state it must
have been pushed up through the overlying beds.
[8] Pernety, _Voyage aux Isles Malouines_, p. 526.
In many parts of the island the bottoms of the valleys are covered in
an extraordinary manner by myriads of great loose angular fragments of
the quartz rock, forming “streams of stones.” These have been mentioned
with surprise by every voyager since the time of Pernety. The blocks
are not waterworn, their angles being only a little blunted; they vary
in size from one or two feet in diameter to ten, or even more than
twenty times as much. They are not thrown together into irregular
piles, but are spread out into level sheets or great streams. It is not
possible to ascertain their thickness, but the water of small
streamlets can be heard trickling through the stones many feet below
the surface. The actual depth is probably great, because the crevices
between the lower fragments must long ago have been filled up with
sand. The width of these sheets of stones varies from a few hundred
feet to a mile; but the peaty soil daily encroaches on the borders, and
even forms islets wherever a few fragments happen to lie close
together. In a valley south of Berkeley Sound, which some of our party
called the “great valley of fragments,” it was necessary to cross an
uninterrupted band half a mile wide, by jumping from one pointed stone
to another. So large were the fragments, that being overtaken by a
shower of rain, I readily found shelter beneath one of them.
Their little inclination is the most remarkable circumstance in these
“streams of stones.” On the hill-sides I have seen
them sloping at an angle of ten degrees with the horizon; but in some
of the level, broad-bottomed valleys, the inclination is only just
sufficient to be clearly perceived. On so rugged a surface there was no
means of measuring the angle; but to give a common illustration, I may
say that the slope would not have checked the speed of an English
mail-coach. In some places a continuous stream of these fragments
followed up the course of a valley, and even extended to the very crest
of the hill. On these crests huge masses, exceeding in dimensions any
small building, seemed to stand arrested in their headlong course:
there, also, the curved strata of the archways lay piled on each other,
like the ruins of some vast and ancient cathedral. In endeavouring to
describe these scenes of violence one is tempted to pass from one
simile to another. We may imagine that streams of white lava had flowed
from many parts of the mountains into the lower country, and that when
solidified they had been rent by some enormous convulsion into myriads
of fragments. The expression “streams of stones,” which immediately
occurred to every one, conveys the same idea. These scenes are on the
spot rendered more striking by the contrast of the low, rounded forms
of the neighbouring hills.
I was interested by finding on the highest peak of one range (about 700
feet above the sea) a great arched fragment, lying on its convex side,
or back downwards. Must we believe that it was fairly pitched up in the
air, and thus turned? Or, with more probability, that there existed
formerly a part of the same range more elevated than the point on which
this monument of a great convulsion of nature now lies. As the
fragments in the valleys are neither rounded nor the crevices filled up
with sand, we must infer that the period of violence was subsequent to
the land having been raised above the waters of the sea. In a
transverse section within these valleys the bottom is nearly level, or
rises but very little towards either side. Hence the fragments appear
to have travelled from the head of the valley; but in reality it seems
more probable that they have been hurled down from the nearest slopes;
and that since, by a vibratory movement of overwhelming force,[9] the
fragments have been levelled into one continuous sheet. If during the
earthquake[10] which in 1835 overthrew Concepcion, in Chile, it was
thought wonderful that small bodies should have been pitched a few
inches from the ground, what must we say to a movement which has caused
fragments many tons in weight to move onwards like so much sand on a
vibrating board, and find their level? I have seen, in the Cordillera
of the Andes, the evident marks where stupendous mountains have been
broken into pieces like so much thin crust, and the strata thrown on
their vertical edges; but never did any scene, like these “streams of
stones,” so forcibly convey to my mind the idea of a convulsion, of
which in historical records we might in vain seek for any counterpart:
yet the progress of knowledge will probably some day give a simple
explanation of this phenomenon, as it already has of the so long
thought inexplicable transportal of the erratic boulders which are
strewed over the plains of Europe.
[9] “Nous n’avons pas été moins saisis d’étonnement à la vûe de
l’innombrable quantité de pierres de toutes grandeurs, bouleversées
les unes sur les autres, et cependant rangées, comme si elles avoient
été amoncelées négligemment pour remplir des ravins. On ne se lassoit
pas d’admirer les effets prodigieux de la nature.”—_Pernety_, p. 526.
[10] An inhabitant of Mendoza, and hence well capable of judging,
assured me that, during the several years he had resided on these
islands, he had never felt the slightest shock of an earthquake.
I have little to remark on the zoology of these islands. I have before
described the carrion-vulture of Polyborus. There are some other hawks,
owls, and a few small land-birds. The waterfowl are particularly
numerous, and they must formerly, from the accounts of the old
navigators, have been much more so. One day I observed a cormorant
playing with a fish which it had caught. Eight times successively the
bird let its prey go, then dived after it, and although in deep water,
brought it each time to the surface. In the Zoological Gardens I have
seen the otter treat a fish in the same manner, much as a cat does a
mouse: I do not know of any other instance where dame Nature appears so
wilfully cruel. Another day, having placed myself between a penguin
(Aptenodytes demersa) and the water, I was much amused by watching its
habits. It was a brave bird; and till reaching the sea, it regularly
fought and drove me backwards. Nothing less than heavy blows would have
stopped him; every inch he gained he firmly kept, standing
close before me erect and determined. When thus opposed he continually
rolled his head from side to side, in a very odd manner, as if the
power of distinct vision lay only in the anterior and basal part of
each eye. This bird is commonly called the jackass penguin, from its
habit, while on shore, of throwing its head backwards, and making a
loud strange noise, very like the braying of an ass; but while at sea,
and undisturbed, its note is very deep and solemn, and is often heard
in the night-time. In diving, its little wings are used as fins; but on
the land, as front legs. When crawling, it may be said on four legs,
through the tussocks or on the side of a grassy cliff, it moves so very
quickly that it might easily be mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea
and fishing, it comes to the surface for the purpose of breathing with
such a spring, and dives again so instantaneously, that I defy any one
at first sight to be sure that it was not a fish leaping for sport.
Two kinds of geese frequent the Falklands. The upland species (Anas
Magellanica) is common, in pairs and in small flocks, throughout the
island. They do not migrate, but build on the small outlying islets.
This is supposed to be from fear of the foxes: and it is perhaps from
the same cause that these birds, though very tame by day, are shy and
wild in the dusk of the evening. They live entirely on vegetable
matter. The rock-goose, so called from living exclusively on the
sea-beach (Anas antarctica), is common both here and on the west coast
of America, as far north as Chile. In the deep and retired channels of
Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably accompanied by his
darker consort, and standing close by each other on some distant rocky
point, is a common feature in the landscape.
In these islands a great loggerheaded duck or goose (Anas brachyptera),
which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds, is very abundant. These birds
were in former days called, from their extraordinary manner of paddling
and splashing upon the water, racehorses; but now they are named, much
more appropriately, steamers. Their wings are too small and weak to
allow of flight, but by their aid, partly swimming and partly flapping
the surface of the water, they move very quickly. The manner is
something like that by which the common house-duck escapes when pursued
by a dog; but I am nearly sure that the steamer
moves its wings alternately, instead of both together, as in other
birds. These clumsy, loggerheaded ducks make such a noise and
splashing, that the effect is exceedingly curious.
Thus we find in South America three birds which use their wings for
other purposes besides flight; the penguin as fins, the steamer as
paddles, and the ostrich as sails: and the Apteryx of New Zealand, as
well as its gigantic extinct prototype the Deinornis, possess only
rudimentary representatives of wings. The steamer is able to dive only
to a very short distance. It feeds entirely on shell-fish from the kelp
and tidal rocks; hence the beak and head, for the purpose of breaking
them, are surprisingly heavy and strong: the head is so strong that I
have scarcely been able to fracture it with my geological hammer; and
all our sportsmen soon discovered how tenacious these birds were of
life. When in the evening pluming themselves in a flock, they make the
same odd mixture of sounds which bull-frogs do within the tropics.
In Tierra del Fuego, as well as in the Falkland Islands, I made many
observations on the lower marine animals,[11] but they are of little
general interest. I will mention only one class of facts, relating to
certain zoophytes in the more highly organised division of that class.
Several genera (Flustra, Eschara, Cellaria, Crisia, and others) agree
in having singular movable organs (like those of Flustra avicularia,
found in the European seas) attached to their cells. The organ, in the
greater number of cases, very closely resembles the head of a vulture;
but the lower mandible can be opened much wider than in a real bird’s
beak. The head itself possesses considerable powers of movement, by
means of a short neck. In one zoophyte the head itself was fixed, but
the lower jaw free: in another it was replaced by
a triangular hood, with a beautifully-fitted trap-door, which evidently
answered to the lower mandible. In the greater number of species, each
cell was provided with one head, but in others each cell had two.
[11] I was surprised to find, on counting the eggs of a large white
Doris (this sea-slug was three and a half inches long), how
extraordinarily numerous they were. From two to five eggs (each
three-thousandths of an inch in diameter) were contained in spherical
little case. These were arranged two deep in transverse rows forming a
ribbon. The ribbon adhered by its edge to the rock in an oval spire.
One which I found measured nearly twenty inches in length and half in
breadth. By counting how many balls were contained in a tenth of an
inch in the row, and how many rows in an equal length of the ribbon,
on the most moderate computation there were six hundred thousand eggs.
Yet this Doris was certainly not very common: although I was often
searching under the stones, I saw only seven individuals. _No fallacy
is more common with naturalists, than that the numbers of an
individual species depend on its powers of propagation._
The young cells at the end of the branches of these corallines contain
quite immature polypi, yet the vulture-heads attached to them, though
small, are in every respect perfect. When the polypus was removed by a
needle from any of the cells, these organs did not appear in the least
affected. When one of the vulture-like heads was cut off from the cell,
the lower mandible retained its power of opening and closing. Perhaps
the most singular part of their structure is, that when there were more
than two rows of cells on a branch, the central cells were furnished
with these appendages, of only one-fourth the size of the outside ones.
Their movements varied according to the species; but in some I never
saw the least motion; while others, with the lower mandible generally
wide open, oscillated backwards and forwards at the rate of about five
seconds each turn; others moved rapidly and by starts. When touched
with a needle, the beak generally seized the point so firmly that the
whole branch might be shaken.
These bodies have no relation whatever with the production of the eggs
or gemmules, as they are formed before the young polypi appear in the
cells at the end of the growing branches; as they move independently of
the polypi, and do not appear to be in any way connected with them; and
as they differ in size on the outer and inner rows of cells, I have
little doubt that in their functions they are related rather to the
horny axis of the branches than to the polypi in the cells. The fleshy
appendage at the lower extremity of the sea-pen (described at Bahia
Blanca) also forms part of the zoophyte, as a whole, in the same manner
as the roots of a tree form part of the whole tree, and not of the
individual leaf or flower-buds.
In another elegant little coralline (Crisia?) each cell was furnished
with a long-toothed bristle, which had the power of moving quickly.
Each of these bristles and each of the vulture-like heads generally
moved quite independently of the others, but sometimes all on both
sides of a branch, sometimes only those on one side, moved together
coinstantaneously; sometimes each moved in regular order one after
another. In these actions we
apparently behold as perfect a transmission of will in the zoophyte,
though composed of thousands of distinct polypi, as in any single
animal. The case, indeed, is not different from that of the sea-pens,
which, when touched, drew themselves into the sand on the coast of
Bahia Blanca. I will state one other instance of uniform action, though
of a very different nature, in a zoophyte closely allied to Clytia, and
therefore very simply organised. Having kept a large tuft of it in a
basin of salt-water, when it was dark I found that as often as I rubbed
any part of a branch, the whole became strongly phosphorescent with a
green light: I do not think I ever saw any object more beautifully so.
But the remarkable circumstance was, that the flashes of light always
proceeded up the branches, from the base towards the extremities.
The examination of these compound animals was always very interesting
to me. What can be more remarkable than to see a plant-like body
producing an egg, capable of swimming about and of choosing a proper
place to adhere to, which then sprouts into branches, each crowded with
innumerable distinct animals, often of complicated organisations. The
branches, moreover, as we have just seen, sometimes possess organs
capable of movement and independent of the polypi. Surprising as this
union of separate individuals in a common stock must always appear,
every tree displays the same fact, for buds must be considered as
individual plants. It is, however, natural to consider a polypus,
furnished with a mouth, intestines, and other organs, as a distinct
individual, whereas the individuality of a leaf-bud is not easily
realised; so that the union of separate individuals in a common body is
more striking in a coralline than in a tree. Our conception of a
compound animal, where in some respects the individuality of each is
not completed, may be aided, by reflecting on the production of two
distinct creatures by bisecting a single one with a knife, or where
Nature herself performs the task of bisection. We may consider the
polypi in a zoophyte, or the buds in a tree, as cases where the
division of the individual has not been completely effected. Certainly
in the case of trees, and judging from analogy in that of corallines,
the individuals propagated by buds seem more intimately related to each
other, than eggs or seeds are to their parents. It seems now pretty
well established that plants propagated by buds all
partake of a common duration of life; and it is familiar to every one,
what singular and numerous peculiarities are transmitted with
certainty, by buds, layers, and grafts, which by seminal propagation
never or only casually reappear.
[Illustration: Berkeley Sound, Falkland Islands.]
[Illustration: York Minster, bearing S. 66° E.]
Chapter X
Tierra del Fuego, first arrival—Good Success Bay—An account of the
Fuegians on board—Interview with the savages—Scenery of the
forests—Cape Horn—Wigwam Cove—Miserable condition of the
savages—Famines—Cannibals—Matricide—Religious feelings—Great
gale—Beagle Channel—Ponsonby Sound—Build wigwams and settle the
Fuegians—Bifurcation of the Beagle Channel—Glaciers—Return to the
ship—Second visit in the ship to the settlement—Equality of condition
amongst the natives.
TIERRA DEL FUEGO.
_December_ 17_th_, 1832.—Having now finished with Patagonia and the
Falkland Islands, I will describe our first arrival in Tierra del
Fuego. A little after noon we doubled Cape St. Diego, and entered the
famous Strait of Le Maire. We kept close to the Fuegian shore, but the
outline of the rugged, inhospitable Staten-land was visible amidst the
clouds. In the afternoon we anchored in the Bay of Good Success. While
entering we were saluted in a manner becoming the inhabitants of this
savage land. A group of Fuegians partly concealed by the entangled
forest, were perched on a wild point overhanging the
sea; and as we passed by, they sprang up and waving their tattered
cloaks sent forth a loud and sonorous shout. The savages followed the
ship, and just before dark we saw their fire, and again heard their
wild cry. The harbour consists of a fine piece of water half surrounded
by low rounded mountains of clay-slate, which are covered to the
water’s edge by one dense gloomy forest. A single glance at the
landscape was sufficient to show me how widely different it was from
anything I had ever beheld. At night it blew a gale of wind, and heavy
squalls from the mountains swept past us. It would have been a bad time
out at sea, and we, as well as others, may call this Good Success Bay.
In the morning the Captain sent a party to communicate with the
Fuegians. When we came within hail, one of the four natives who were
present advanced to receive us, and began to shout most vehemently,
wishing to direct us where to land. When we were on shore the party
looked rather alarmed, but continued talking and making gestures with
great rapidity. It was without exception the most curious and
interesting spectacle I ever beheld: I could not have believed how wide
was the difference between savage and civilised man: it is greater than
between a wild and domesticated animal, inasmuch as in man there is a
greater power of improvement. The chief spokesman was old, and appeared
to be the head of the family; the three others were powerful young men,
about six feet high. The women and children had been sent away. These
Fuegians are a very different race from the stunted, miserable wretches
farther westward; and they seem closely allied to the famous
Patagonians of the Strait of Magellan. Their only garment consists of a
mantle made of guanaco skin, with the wool outside: this they wear just
thrown over their shoulders, leaving their persons as often exposed as
covered. Their skin is of a dirty coppery-red colour.
The old man had a fillet of white feathers tied round his head, which
partly confined his black, coarse, and entangled hair. His face was
crossed by two broad transverse bars; one, painted bright red, reached
from ear to ear and included the upper lip; the other, white like
chalk, extended above and parallel to the first, so that even his
eyelids were thus coloured. The other two men were ornamented by
streaks of black powder, made of
charcoal. The party altogether closely resembled the devils which come
on the stage in plays like Der Freischutz.
Their very attitudes were abject, and the expression of their
countenances distrustful, surprised, and startled. After we had
presented them with some scarlet cloth, which they immediately tied
round their necks, they became good friends. This was shown by the old
man patting our breasts, and making a chuckling kind of noise, as
people do when feeding chickens. I walked with the old man, and this
demonstration of friendship was repeated several times; it was
concluded by three hard slaps, which were given me on the breast and
back at the same time. He then bared his bosom for me to return the
compliment, which being done, he seemed highly pleased. The language of
these people, according to our notions, scarcely deserves to be called
articulate. Captain Cook has compared it to a man clearing his throat,
but certainly no European ever cleared his throat with so many hoarse,
guttural, and clicking sounds.
They are excellent mimics: as often as we coughed or yawned, or made
any odd motion, they immediately imitated us. Some of our party began
to squint and look awry; but one of the young Fuegians (whose whole
face was painted black, excepting a white band across his eyes)
succeeded in making far more hideous grimaces. They could repeat with
perfect correctness each word in any sentence we addressed them, and
they remembered such words for some time. Yet we Europeans all know how
difficult it is to distinguish apart the sounds in a foreign language.
Which of us, for instance, could follow an American Indian through a
sentence of more than three words? All savages appear to possess, to an
uncommon degree, this power of mimicry. I was told, almost in the same
words, of the same ludicrous habit among the Caffres; the Australians,
likewise, have long been notorious for being able to imitate and
describe the gait of any man, so that he may be recognised. How can
this faculty be explained? is it a consequence of the more practised
habits of perception and keener senses, common to all men in a savage
state, as compared with those long civilised?
When a song was struck up by our party, I thought the Fuegians would
have fallen down with astonishment. With equal surprise they viewed our
dancing; but one of the young men, when asked, had no objection to a
little waltzing. Little
accustomed to Europeans as they appeared to be, yet they knew and
dreaded our firearms; nothing would tempt them to take a gun in their
hands. They begged for knives, calling them by the Spanish word
“cuchilla.” They explained also what they wanted, by acting as if they
had a piece of blubber in their mouth, and then pretending to cut
instead of tear it.
I have not as yet noticed the Fuegians whom we had on board. During the
former voyage of the _Adventure_ and _Beagle_ in 1826 to 1830, Captain
Fitz Roy seized on a party of natives, as hostages for the loss of a
boat, which had been stolen, to the great jeopardy of a party employed
on the survey; and some of these natives, as well as a child whom he
bought for a pearl-button, he took with him to England, determining to
educate them and instruct them in religion at his own expense. To
settle these natives in their own country was one chief inducement to
Captain Fitz Roy to undertake our present voyage; and before the
Admiralty had resolved to send out this expedition, Captain Fitz Roy
had generously chartered a vessel, and would himself have taken them
back. The natives were accompanied by a missionary, R. Matthews; of
whom and of the natives, Captain Fitz Roy has published a full and
excellent account. Two men, one of whom died in England of the
smallpox, a boy and a little girl, were originally taken; and we had
now on board, York Minster, Jemmy Button (whose name expresses his
purchase-money), and Fuegia Basket. York Minster was a full-grown,
short, thick, powerful man: his disposition was reserved, taciturn,
morose, and when excited violently passionate; his affections were very
strong towards a few friends on board; his intellect good. Jemmy Button
was a universal favourite, but likewise passionate; the expression of
his face at once showed his nice disposition. He was merry and often
laughed, and was remarkably sympathetic with any one in pain: when the
water was rough, I was often a little sea-sick, and he used to come to
me and say in a plaintive voice, “Poor, poor fellow!” but the notion,
after his aquatic life, of a man being sea-sick, was too ludicrous, and
he was generally obliged to turn on one side to hide a smile or laugh,
and then he would repeat his “Poor, poor fellow!” He was of a patriotic
disposition; and he liked to praise his own tribe and country, in which
he truly said there were “plenty of trees,” and he abused all the other
tribes: he stoutly declared that there
was no Devil in his land. Jemmy was short, thick, and fat, but vain of
his personal appearance; he used always to wear gloves, his hair was
neatly cut, and he was distressed if his well-polished shoes were
dirtied. He was fond of admiring himself in a looking glass; and a
merry-faced little Indian boy from the Rio Negro, whom we had for some
months on board, soon perceived this, and used to mock him: Jemmy, who
was always rather jealous of the attention paid to this little boy, did
not at all like this, and used to say, with rather a contemptuous twist
of his head, “Too much skylark.” It seems yet wonderful to me, when I
think over all his many good qualities, that he should have been of the
same race, and doubtless partaken of the same character, with the
miserable, degraded savages whom we first met here. Lastly, Fuegia
Basket was a nice, modest, reserved young girl, with a rather pleasing
but sometimes sullen expression, and very quick in learning anything,
especially languages. This she showed in picking up some Portuguese and
Spanish, when left on shore for only a short time at Rio de Janeiro and
Monte Video, and in her knowledge of English. York Minster was very
jealous of any attention paid to her; for it was clear he determined to
marry her as soon as they were settled on shore.
Although all three could both speak and understand a good deal of
English, it was singularly difficult to obtain much information from
them concerning the habits of their countrymen; this was partly owing
to their apparent difficulty in understanding the simplest alternative.
Every one accustomed to very young children knows how seldom one can
get an answer even to so simple a question as whether a thing is black
_or_ white; the idea of black or white seems alternately to fill their
minds. So it was with these Fuegians, and hence it was generally
impossible to find out, by cross-questioning, whether one had rightly
understood anything which they had asserted. Their sight was remarkably
acute; it is well known that sailors, from long practice, can make out
a distant object much better than a landsman; but both York and Jemmy
were much superior to any sailor on board: several times they have
declared what some distant object has been, and though doubted by every
one, they have proved right when it has been examined through a
telescope. They were quite conscious of this power; and Jemmy, when he
had any little quarrel
with the officer on watch, would say, “Me see ship, me no tell.”
It was interesting to watch the conduct of the savages, when we landed,
towards Jemmy Button: they immediately perceived the difference between
him and ourselves, and held much conversation one with another on the
subject. The old man addressed a long harangue to Jemmy, which it seems
was to invite him to stay with them. But Jemmy understood very little
of their language, and was, moreover, thoroughly ashamed of his
countrymen. When York Minster afterwards came on shore, they noticed
him in the same way, and told him he ought to shave; yet he had not
twenty dwarf hairs on his face, whilst we all wore our untrimmed
beards. They examined the colour of his skin, and compared it with
ours. One of our arms being bared, they expressed the liveliest
surprise and admiration at its whiteness, just in the same way in which
I have seen the ourang-outang do at the Zoological Gardens. We thought
that they mistook two or three of the officers, who were rather shorter
and fairer, though adorned with large beards, for the ladies of our
party. The tallest amongst the Fuegians was evidently much pleased at
his height being noticed. When placed back to back with the tallest of
the boat’s crew, he tried his best to edge on higher ground, and to
stand on tiptoe. He opened his mouth to show his teeth, and turned his
face for a side view; and all this was done with such alacrity, that I
daresay he thought himself the handsomest man in Tierra del Fuego.
After our first feeling of grave astonishment was over, nothing could
be more ludicrous than the odd mixture of surprise and imitation which
these savages every moment exhibited.
The next day I attempted to penetrate some way into the country. Tierra
del Fuego may be described as a mountainous land, partly submerged in
the sea, so that deep inlets and bays occupy the place where valleys
should exist. The mountain sides, except on the exposed western coast,
are covered from the water’s edge upwards by one great forest. The
trees reach to an elevation of between 1000 and 1500 feet, and are
succeeded by a band of peat, with minute alpine plants; and this again
is succeeded by the line of perpetual snow, which,
according to Captain King, in the Strait of Magellan descends to
between 3000 and 4000 feet. To find an acre of level land in any part
of the country is most rare. I recollect only one little flat piece
near Port Famine, and another of rather larger extent near Goeree Road.
In both places, and everywhere else, the surface is covered by a thick
bed of swampy peat. Even within the forest, the ground is concealed by
a mass of slowly putrefying vegetable matter, which, from being soaked
with water, yields to the foot.
Finding it nearly hopeless to push my way through the wood, I followed
the course of a mountain torrent. At first, from the waterfalls and
number of dead trees, I could hardly crawl along; but the bed of the
stream soon became a little more open, from the floods having swept the
sides. I continued slowly to advance for an hour along the broken and
rocky banks, and was amply repaid by the grandeur of the scene. The
gloomy depth of the ravine well accorded with the universal signs of
violence. On every side were lying irregular masses of rock and torn-up
trees; other trees, though still erect, were decayed to the heart and
ready to fall. The entangled mass of the thriving and the fallen
reminded me of the forests within the tropics—yet there was a
difference: for in these still solitudes, Death, instead of Life,
seemed the predominant spirit. I followed the watercourse till I came
to a spot where a great slip had cleared a straight space down the
mountain side. By this road I ascended to a considerable elevation, and
obtained a good view of the surrounding woods. The trees all belong to
one kind, the Fagus betuloides; for the number of the other species of
Fagus and of the Winter’s Bark is quite inconsiderable. This beech
keeps its leaves throughout the year; but its foliage is of a peculiar
brownish-green colour, with a tinge of yellow. As the whole landscape
is thus coloured, it has a sombre, dull appearance; nor is it often
enlivened by the rays of the sun.
_December_ 20_th._—One side of the harbour is formed by a hill about
1500 feet high, which Captain Fitz Roy has called after Sir J. Banks,
in commemoration of his disastrous excursion which proved fatal to two
men of his party, and nearly so to Dr. Solander. The snow-storm, which
was the cause of their misfortune, happened in the middle of January,
corresponding
to our July, and in the latitude of Durham! I was anxious to reach the
summit of this mountain to collect alpine plants; for flowers of any
kind in the lower parts are few in number. We followed the same
watercourse as on the previous day, till it dwindled away, and we were
then compelled to crawl blindly among the trees. These, from the
effects of the elevation and of the impetuous winds, were low, thick
and crooked. At length we reached that which from a distance appeared
like a carpet of fine green turf, but which, to our vexation, turned
out to be a compact mass of little beech-trees about four or five feet
high. They were as thick together as box in the border of a garden, and
we were obliged to struggle over the flat but treacherous surface.
After a little more trouble we gained the peat, and then the bare slate
rock.
Cape Horn
A ridge connected this hill with another, distant some miles, and more
lofty, so that patches of snow were lying on it. As the day was not far
advanced, I determined to walk there and collect plants along the road.
It would have been very hard work, had it not been for a well-beaten
and straight path made by the guanacos; for these animals, like sheep,
always follow the same line. When we reached the hill we found it the
highest in the immediate neighbourhood, and the waters flowed to the
sea in opposite directions. We obtained a wide view over the
surrounding country: to the north a swampy moorland extended, but to
the south we had a scene of savage
magnificence, well becoming Tierra del Fuego. There was a degree of
mysterious grandeur in mountain behind mountain, with the deep
intervening valleys, all covered by one thick, dusky mass of forest.
The atmosphere, likewise, in this climate, where gale succeeds gale,
with rain, hail, and sleet, seems blacker than anywhere else. In the
Strait of Magellan, looking due southward from Port Famine, the distant
channels between the mountains appeared from their gloominess to lead
beyond the confines of this world.
Cape Horn (another view)
_December_ 21_st._—The _Beagle_ got under way: and on the succeeding
day, favoured to an uncommon degree by a fine easterly breeze, we
closed in with the Barnevelts, and running past Cape Deceit with its
stony peaks, about three o’clock doubled the weather-beaten Cape Horn.
The evening was calm and bright, and we enjoyed a fine view of the
surrounding isles. Cape Horn, however, demanded his tribute, and before
night sent us a gale of wind directly in our teeth. We stood out to
sea, and on the second day again made the land, when we saw on our
weather-bow this notorious promontory in its proper form—veiled in a
mist, and its dim outline surrounded by a storm of wind and water.
Great black clouds were rolling across the heavens, and squalls of
rain, with hail, swept by us with such extreme violence, that the
Captain determined to run into Wigwam Cove. This is a snug little
harbour, not far from Cape Horn; and here, at Christmas-eve, we
anchored in
smooth water. The only thing which reminded us of the gale outside was
every now and then a puff from the mountains, which made the ship surge
at her anchors.
_December_ 25_th._—Close by the cove, a pointed hill, called Kater’s
Peak, rises to the height of 1700 feet. The surrounding islands all
consist of conical masses of greenstone, associated sometimes with less
regular hills of baked and altered clay-slate. This part of Tierra del
Fuego may be considered as the extremity of the submerged chain of
mountains already alluded to. The cove takes its name of “Wigwam” from
some of the Fuegian habitations; but every bay in the neighbourhood
might be so called with equal propriety. The inhabitants, living
chiefly upon shell-fish, are obliged constantly to change their place
of residence; but they return at intervals to the same spots, as is
evident from the piles of old shells, which must often amount to many
tons in weight. These heaps can be distinguished at a long distance by
the bright green colour of certain plants, which invariably grow on
them. Among these may be enumerated the wild celery and scurvy grass,
two very serviceable plants, the use of which has not been discovered
by the natives.
The Fuegian wigwam resembles, in size and dimensions, a haycock. It
merely consists of a few broken branches stuck in the ground, and very
imperfectly thatched on one side with a few tufts of grass and rushes.
The whole cannot be the work of an hour, and it is only used for a few
days. At Goeree Roads I saw a place where one of these naked men had
slept, which absolutely offered no more cover than the form of a hare.
The man was evidently living by himself, and York Minster said he was
“very bad man,” and that probably he had stolen something. On the west
coast, however, the wigwams are rather better, for they are covered
with seal-skins. We were detained here several days by the bad weather.
The climate is certainly wretched: the summer solstice was now past,
yet every day snow fell on the hills, and in the valleys there was
rain, accompanied by sleet. The thermometer generally stood about 45°,
but in the night fell to 38° or 40°. From the damp and boisterous state
of the atmosphere, not cheered by a gleam of sunshine, one fancied the
climate even worse than it really was.
While going one day on shore near Wollaston Island, we
pulled alongside a canoe with six Fuegians. These were the most abject
and miserable creatures I anywhere beheld. On the east coast the
natives, as we have seen, have guanaco cloaks, and on the west they
possess seal-skins. Amongst these central tribes the men generally have
an otter-skin, or some small scrap about as large as a
pocket-handkerchief, which is barely sufficient to cover their backs as
low down as their loins. It is laced across the breast by strings, and
according as the wind blows, it is shifted from side to side. But these
Fuegians in the canoe were quite naked, and even one full-grown woman
was absolutely so. It was raining heavily, and the fresh water,
together with the spray, trickled down her body. In another harbour not
far distant, a woman, who was suckling a recently-born child, came one
day alongside the vessel, and remained there out of mere curiosity,
whilst the sleet fell and thawed on her naked bosom, and on the skin of
her naked baby! These poor wretches were stunted in their growth, their
hideous faces bedaubed with white paint, their skins filthy and greasy,
their hair entangled, their voices discordant, and their gestures
violent. Viewing such men, one can hardly make oneself believe that
they are fellow-creatures, and inhabitants of the same world. It is a
common subject of conjecture what pleasure in life some of the lower
animals can enjoy: how much more reasonably the same question may be
asked with respect to these barbarians! At night five or six human
beings, naked and scarcely protected from the wind and rain of this
tempestuous climate, sleep on the wet ground coiled up like animals.
Whenever it is low water, winter or summer, night or day, they must
rise to pick shellfish from the rocks; and the women either dive to
collect sea-eggs, or sit patiently in their canoes, and with a baited
hair-line without any hook, jerk out little fish. If a seal is killed,
or the floating carcass of a putrid whale is discovered, it is a feast;
and such miserable food is assisted by a few tasteless berries and
fungi.
They often suffer from famine: I heard Mr. Low, a sealing-master
intimately acquainted with the natives of this country, give a curious
account of the state of a party of one hundred and fifty natives on the
west coast, who were very thin and in great distress. A succession of
gales prevented the women from getting shell-fish on the rocks, and
they could not go out in
their canoes to catch seal. A small party of these men one morning set
out, and the other Indians explained to him that they were going a four
days’ journey for food: on their return, Low went to meet them, and he
found them excessively tired, each man carrying a great square piece of
putrid whales-blubber with a hole in the middle, through which they put
their heads, like the Gauchos do through their ponchos or cloaks. As
soon as the blubber was brought into a wigwam, an old man cut off thin
slices, and muttering over them, broiled them for a minute, and
distributed them to the famished party, who during this time preserved
a profound silence. Mr. Low believes that whenever a whale is cast on
shore, the natives bury large pieces of it in the sand, as a resource
in time of famine; and a native boy, whom he had on board, once found a
stock thus buried. The different tribes when at war are cannibals. From
the concurrent, but quite independent evidence of the boy taken by Mr.
Low, and of Jemmy Button, it is certainly true, that when pressed in
winter by hunger they kill and devour their old women before they kill
their dogs: the boy, being asked by Mr. Low why they did this,
answered, “Doggies catch otters, old women no.” This boy described the
manner in which they are killed by being held over smoke and thus
choked; he imitated their screams as a joke, and described the parts of
their bodies which are considered best to eat. Horrid as such a death
by the hands of their friends and relatives must be, the fears of the
old women, when hunger begins to press, are more painful to think of;
we were told that they then often run away into the mountains, but that
they are pursued by the men and brought back to the slaughter-house at
their own firesides!
Captain Fitz Roy could never ascertain that the Fuegians have any
distinct belief in a future life. They sometimes bury their dead in
caves, and sometimes in the mountain forests; we do not know what
ceremonies they perform. Jemmy Button would not eat land-birds, because
“eat dead men”; they are unwilling even to mention their dead friends.
We have no reason to believe that they perform any sort of religious
worship; though perhaps the muttering of the old man before he
distributed the putrid blubber to his famished party may be of this
nature. Each family or tribe has a wizard or conjuring doctor, whose
office we could never clearly ascertain. Jemmy believed in dreams,
though not, as I have said, in the devil: I do not think that our
Fuegians were much more superstitious than some of the sailors; for an
old quartermaster firmly believed that the successive heavy gales,
which we encountered off Cape Horn, were caused by our having the
Fuegians on board. The nearest approach to a religious feeling which I
heard of, was shown by York Minster, who, when Mr. Bynoe shot some very
young ducklings as specimens, declared in the most solemn manner, “Oh,
Mr. Bynoe, much rain, snow, blow much.” This was evidently a
retributive punishment for wasting human food. In a wild and excited
manner he also related that his brother one day, whilst returning to
pick up some dead birds which he had left on the coast, observed some
feathers blown by the wind. His brother said (York imitating his
manner), “What that?” and crawling onwards, he peeped over the cliff,
and saw “wild man” picking his birds; he crawled a little nearer, and
then hurled down a great stone and killed him. York declared for a long
time afterwards storms raged, and much rain and snow fell. As far as we
could make out, he seemed to consider the elements themselves as the
avenging agents: it is evident in this case, how naturally, in a race a
little more advanced in culture, the elements would become personified.
What the “bad wild men” were, has always appeared to me most
mysterious: from what York said, when we found the place like the form
of a hare, where a single man had slept the night before, I should have
thought that they were thieves who had been driven from their tribes;
but other obscure speeches made me doubt this; I have sometimes
imagined that the most probable explanation was that they were insane.
The different tribes have no government or chief; yet each is
surrounded by other hostile tribes, speaking different dialects, and
separated from each other only by a deserted border or neutral
territory: the cause of their warfare appears to be the means of
subsistence. Their country is a broken mass of wild rocks, lofty hills,
and useless forests: and these are viewed through mists and endless
storms. The habitable land is reduced to the stones on the beach; in
search of food they are compelled unceasingly to wander from spot to
spot, and so steep is the coast, that they can only move about in their
wretched canoes. They cannot know the feeling of having a home, and
still less that of domestic affection; for the husband is to the wife a
brutal master to a laborious slave. Was a more horrid deed ever
perpetrated, than that witnessed on the west coast by Byron, who saw a
wretched mother pick up her bleeding dying infant-boy, whom her husband
had mercilessly dashed on the stones for dropping a basket of sea-eggs!
How little can the higher powers of the mind be brought into play: what
is there for imagination to picture, for reason to compare, for
judgment to decide upon? to knock a limpet from the rock does not
require even cunning, that lowest power of the mind. Their skill in
some respects may be compared to the instinct of animals; for it is not
improved by experience: the canoe, their most ingenious work, poor as
it is, has remained the same, as we know from Drake, for the last two
hundred and fifty years.
Whilst beholding these savages, one asks, Whence have they come? What
could have tempted, or what change compelled, a tribe of men, to leave
the fine regions of the north, to travel down the Cordillera or
backbone of America, to invent and build canoes, which are not used by
the tribes of Chile, Peru, and Brazil, and then to enter on one of the
most inhospitable countries within the limits of the globe? Although
such reflections must at first seize on the mind, yet we may feel sure
that they are partly erroneous. There is no reason to believe that the
Fuegians decrease in number; therefore we must suppose that they enjoy
a sufficient share of happiness, of whatever kind it may be, to render
life worth having. Nature by making habit omnipotent, and its effects
hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian to the climate and the productions
of his miserable country.
Bad weather, Magellan Straits
After having been detained six days in Wigwam Cove by very bad weather,
we put to sea on the 30th of December. Captain Fitz Roy wished to get
westward to land York and Fuegia in their own country. When at sea we
had a constant succession of gales, and the current was against us: we
drifted to 57° 23′ south. On the 11th of January, 1833, by carrying a
press of sail, we fetched within a few miles of the great rugged
mountain of York Minster (so called by Captain Cook, and the origin of
the name of the elder Fuegian), when a violent squall
compelled us to shorten sail and stand out to sea. The surf was
breaking fearfully on the coast, and the spray was carried over a cliff
estimated at 200 feet in height. On the 12th the gale was very heavy,
and we did not know exactly where we were: it was a most unpleasant
sound to hear constantly repeated, “Keep a good lookout to leeward.” On
the 13th the storm raged with its full fury: our horizon was narrowly
limited by the sheets of spray borne by the wind. The sea looked
ominous, like a dreary waving plain with patches of drifted snow:
whilst the ship laboured heavily, the albatross glided with its
expanded wings right up the wind. At noon a great sea broke over us,
and filled one of the whale-boats, which was obliged to be instantly
cut away. The poor _Beagle_ trembled at the shock, and for a few
minutes would not obey her helm; but soon, like a good ship that she
was, she righted and came up to the wind again. Had another sea
followed the first, our fate would have been decided soon, and for
ever. We had now been twenty-four days trying in vain to get westward;
the men were worn out with fatigue, and they had not had for many
nights or days a dry thing to put on. Captain Fitz Roy gave up the
attempt to get westward by the outside coast. In the evening we ran in
behind False Cape Horn, and
dropped our anchor in forty-seven fathoms, fire flashing from the
windlass as the chain rushed round it. How delightful was that still
night, after having been so long involved in the din of the warring
elements!
Fuegian basket and bone weapons
_January_ 15, 1833.—The _Beagle_ anchored in Goeree Roads. Captain Fitz
Roy having resolved to settle the Fuegians, according to their wishes,
in Ponsonby Sound, four boats were equipped to carry them there through
the Beagle Channel. This channel, which was discovered by Captain Fitz
Roy during the last voyage, is a most remarkable feature in the
geography of this, or indeed of any other country: it may be compared
to the valley of Loch Ness in Scotland, with its chain of lakes and
friths. It is about one hundred and twenty miles long, with an average
breadth, not subject to any very great variation, of about two miles;
and is throughout the greater part so perfectly straight, that the
view, bounded on each side by a line of mountains, gradually becomes
indistinct in the long distance. It crosses the southern part of Tierra
del Fuego in an east and west line, and in the middle is joined at
right angles on the south side by an irregular channel, which has been
called Ponsonby Sound. This is the residence of Jemmy Button’s tribe
and family.
19_th._—Three whale-boats and the yawl, with a party of
twenty-eight, started under the command of Captain Fitz Roy. In the
afternoon we entered the eastern mouth of the channel, and shortly
afterwards found a snug little cove concealed by some surrounding
islets. Here we pitched our tents and lighted our fires. Nothing could
look more comfortable than this scene. The glassy water of the little
harbour, with the branches of the trees hanging over the rocky beach,
the boats at anchor, the tents supported by the crossed oars, and the
smoke curling up the wooded valley, formed a picture of quiet
retirement. The next day (20th) we smoothly glided onwards in our
little fleet, and came to a more inhabited district. Few if any of
these natives could ever have seen a white man; certainly nothing could
exceed their astonishment at the apparition of the four boats. Fires
were lighted on every point (hence the name of Tierra del Fuego, or the
land of fire), both to attract our attention and to spread far and wide
the news. Some of the men ran for miles along the shore. I shall never
forget how wild and savage one group appeared: suddenly four or five
men came to the edge of an overhanging cliff; they were absolutely
naked, and their long hair streamed about their faces; they held rugged
staffs in their hands, and, springing from the ground, they waved their
arms round their heads, and sent forth the most hideous yells.
At dinner-time we landed among a party of Fuegians. At first they were
not inclined to be friendly; for until the Captain pulled in ahead of
the other boats, they kept their slings in their hands. We soon,
however, delighted them by trifling presents, such as tying red tape
round their heads. They liked our biscuit: but one of the savages
touched with his finger some of the meat preserved in tin cases which I
was eating, and feeling it soft and cold, showed as much disgust at it,
as I should have done at putrid blubber. Jemmy was thoroughly ashamed
of his countrymen, and declared his own tribe were quite different, in
which he was woefully mistaken. It was as easy to please as it was
difficult to satisfy these savages. Young and old, men and children,
never ceased repeating the word “yammerschooner,” which means “give
me.” After pointing to almost every object, one after the other, even
to the buttons on our coats, and saying their favourite word in as many
intonations as possible, they would then use it in a neuter sense, and
vacantly repeat “yammerschooner.” After yammerschoonering for any
article very
eagerly, they would by a simple artifice point to their young women or
little children, as much as to say, “If you will not give it me, surely
you will to such as these.”
At night we endeavoured in vain to find an uninhabited cove; and at
last were obliged to bivouac not far from a party of natives. They were
very inoffensive as long as they were few in numbers, but in the
morning (21st) being joined by others they showed symptoms of
hostility, and we thought that we should have come to a skirmish. An
European labours under great disadvantages when treating with savages
like these who have not the least idea of the power of firearms. In the
very act of levelling his musket he appears to the savage far inferior
to a man armed with a bow and arrow, a spear, or even a sling. Nor is
it easy to teach them our superiority except by striking a fatal blow.
Like wild beasts, they do not appear to compare numbers; for each
individual, if attacked, instead of retiring, will endeavour to dash
your brains out with a stone, as certainly as a tiger under similar
circumstances would tear you. Captain Fitz Roy, on one occasion being
very anxious, from good reasons, to frighten away a small party, first
flourished a cutlass near them, at which they only laughed; he then
twice fired his pistol close to a native. The man both times looked
astounded, and carefully but quickly rubbed his head; he then stared
awhile, and gabbled to his companions, but he never seemed to think of
running away. We can hardly put ourselves in the position of these
savages, and understand their actions. In the case of this Fuegian, the
possibility of such a sound as the report of a gun close to his ear
could never have entered his mind. He perhaps literally did not for a
second know whether it was a sound or a blow, and therefore very
naturally rubbed his head. In a similar manner, when a savage sees a
mark struck by a bullet, it may be some time before he is able at all
to understand how it is effected; for the fact of a body being
invisible from its velocity would perhaps be to him an idea totally
inconceivable. Moreover, the extreme force of a bullet that penetrates
a hard substance without tearing it, may convince the savage that it
has no force at all. Certainly I believe that many savages of the
lowest grade, such as these of Tierra del Fuego, have seen objects
struck, and even small animals killed by the musket,
without being in the least aware how deadly an instrument it is.
22_nd._—After having passed an unmolested night, in what would appear
to be neutral territory between Jemmy’s tribe and the people whom we
saw yesterday, we sailed pleasantly along. I do not know anything which
shows more clearly the hostile state of the different tribes, than
these wide border or neutral tracts. Although Jemmy Button well knew
the force of our party, he was, at first, unwilling to land amidst the
hostile tribe nearest to his own. He often told us how the savage Oens
men “when the leaf red,” crossed the mountains from the eastern coast
of Tierra del Fuego, and made inroads on the natives of this part of
the country. It was most curious to watch him when thus talking, and
see his eyes gleaming and his whole face assume a new and wild
expression. As we proceeded along the Beagle Channel, the scenery
assumed a peculiar and very magnificent character; but the effect was
much lessened from the lowness of the point of view in a boat, and from
looking along the valley, and thus losing all the beauty of a
succession of ridges. The mountains were here about three thousand feet
high, and terminated in sharp and jagged points. They rose in one
unbroken sweep from the water’s edge, and were covered to the height of
fourteen or fifteen hundred feet by the dusky-coloured forest. It was
most curious to observe, as far as the eye could range, how level and
truly horizontal the line on the mountain side was, at which trees
ceased to grow: it precisely resembled the high-water mark of driftweed
on a sea-beach.
At night we slept close to the junction of Ponsonby Sound with the
Beagle Channel. A small family of Fuegians, who were living in the
cove, were quiet and inoffensive, and soon joined our party round a
blazing fire. We were well clothed, and though sitting close to the
fire were far from too warm; yet these naked savages, though farther
off, were observed, to our great surprise, to be streaming with
perspiration at undergoing such a roasting. They seemed, however, very
well pleased, and all joined in the chorus of the seamen’s songs: but
the manner in which they were invariably a little behindhand was quite
ludicrous.
During the night the news had spread, and early in the
morning (23rd) a fresh party arrived, belonging to the Tekenika, or
Jemmy’s tribe. Several of them had run so fast that their noses were
bleeding, and their mouths frothed from the rapidity with which they
talked; and with their naked bodies all bedaubed with black, white,[1]
and red, they looked like so many demoniacs who had been fighting. We
then proceeded (accompanied by twelve canoes, each holding four or five
people) down Ponsonby Sound to the spot where poor Jemmy expected to
find his mother and relatives. He had already heard that his father was
dead; but as he had had a “dream in his head” to that effect, he did
not seem to care much about it, and repeatedly comforted himself with
the very natural reflection—“Me no help it.” He was not able to learn
any particulars regarding his father’s death, as his relations would
not speak about it.
[1] This substance, when dry, is tolerably compact, and of little
specific gravity: Professor Ehrenberg has examined it: he states
(_König Akad. der Wissen:_ Berlin, Feb. 1845) that it is composed of
infusoria, including fourteen polygastrica and four phytolitharia. He
says that they are all inhabitants of fresh water; this is a beautiful
example of the results obtainable through Professor Ehrenberg’s
microscopic researches; for Jemmy Button told me that it is always
collected at the bottoms of mountain-brooks. It is, moreover, a
striking fact in the geographical distribution of the infusoria, which
are well known to have very wide ranges, that all the species in this
substance, although brought from the extreme southern point of Tierra
del Fuego, are old, known forms.
Jemmy was now in a district well known to him, and guided the boats to
a quiet pretty cove named Woollya, surrounded by islets, every one of
which and every point had its proper native name. We found here a
family of Jemmy’s tribe, but not his relations: we made friends with
them; and in the evening they sent a canoe to inform Jemmy’s mother and
brothers. The cove was bordered by some acres of good sloping land, not
covered (as elsewhere) either by peat or by forest-trees. Captain Fitz
Roy originally intended, as before stated, to have taken York Minster
and Fuegia to their own tribe on the west coast; but as they expressed
a wish to remain here, and as the spot was singularly favourable,
Captain Fitz Roy determined to settle here the whole party, including
Matthews, the missionary. Five days were spent in building for them
three large wigwams, in landing their goods, in digging two gardens,
and sowing seeds.
The next morning after our arrival (the 24th) the Fuegians
began to pour in, and Jemmy’s mother and brothers arrived. Jemmy
recognised the stentorian voice of one of his brothers at a prodigious
distance. The meeting was less interesting than that between a horse,
turned out into a field, when he joins an old companion. There was no
demonstration of affection; they simply stared for a short time at each
other; and the mother immediately went to look after her canoe. We
heard, however, through York that the mother had been inconsolable for
the loss of Jemmy, and had searched everywhere for him, thinking that
he might have been left after having been taken in the boat. The women
took much notice of and were very kind to Fuegia. We had already
perceived that Jemmy had almost forgotten his own language. I should
think there was scarcely another human being with so small a stock of
language, for his English was very imperfect. It was laughable, but
almost pitiable, to hear him speak to his wild brother in English, and
then ask him in Spanish (“no sabe?”) whether he did not understand him.
Everything went on peaceably during the three next days, whilst the
gardens were digging and wigwams building. We estimated the number of
natives at about one hundred and twenty. The women worked hard, whilst
the men lounged about all day long, watching us. They asked for
everything they saw, and stole what they could. They were delighted at
our dancing and singing, and were particularly interested at seeing us
wash in a neighbouring brook; they did not pay much attention to
anything else, not even to our boats. Of all the things which York saw,
during his absence from his country, nothing seems more to have
astonished him than an ostrich, near Maldonado: breathless with
astonishment he came running to Mr. Bynoe, with whom he was out
walking—“Oh, Mr. Bynoe, oh, bird all same horse!” Much as our white
skins surprised the natives, by Mr. Low’s account a negro-cook to a
sealing vessel did so more effectually, and the poor fellow was so
mobbed and shouted at that he would never go on shore again. Everything
went on so quietly, that some of the officers and myself took long
walks in the surrounding hills and woods. Suddenly, however, on the
27th, every woman and child disappeared. We were all uneasy at this, as
neither York nor Jemmy could make out the cause. It was thought by some
that they had been frightened by our cleaning and firing off our
muskets on the previous evening: by others, that it was owing to
offence taken by an old savage, who, when told to keep farther off, had
coolly spit in the sentry’s face, and had then, by gestures acted over
a sleeping Fuegian, plainly showed, as it was said, that he should like
to cut up and eat our man. Captain Fitz Roy, to avoid the chance of an
encounter, which would have been fatal to so many of the Fuegians,
thought it advisable for us to sleep at a cove a few miles distant.
Matthews, with his usual quiet fortitude (remarkable in a man
apparently possessing little energy of character), determined to stay
with the Fuegians, who evinced no alarm for themselves; and so we left
them to pass their first awful night.
On our return in the morning (28th) we were delighted to find all
quiet, and the men employed in their canoes spearing fish. Captain Fitz
Roy determined to send the yawl and one whale-boat back to the ship;
and to proceed with the two other boats, one under his own command (in
which he most kindly allowed me to accompany him), and one under Mr.
Hammond, to survey the western parts of the Beagle Channel, and
afterwards to return and visit the settlement. The day to our
astonishment was overpoweringly hot, so that our skins were scorched;
with this beautiful weather, the view in the middle of the Beagle
Channel was very remarkable. Looking towards either hand, no object
intercepted the vanishing points of this long canal between the
mountains. The circumstance of its being an arm of the sea was rendered
very evident by several huge whales[2] spouting in different
directions. On one occasion I saw two of these monsters, probably male
and female, slowly swimming one after the other, within less than a
stone’s throw of the shore, over which the beech-tree extended its
branches.
[2] One day, off the East coast of Tierra del Fuego, we saw a grand
sight in several spermaceti whales jumping upright quite out of the
water, with the exception of their tail-fins. As they fell down
sideways, they splashed the water high up, and the sound reverberated
like a distant broadside.
We sailed on till it was dark, and then pitched our tents in a quiet
creek. The greatest luxury was to find for our beds a beach of pebbles,
for they were dry and yielded to the body. Peaty soil is damp; rock is
uneven and hard; sand gets into one’s meat, when cooked and eaten
boat-fashion; but when lying
in our blanket-bags, on a good bed of smooth pebbles, we passed most
comfortable nights.
It was my watch till one o’clock. There is something very solemn in
these scenes. At no time does the consciousness in what a remote corner
of the world you are then standing come so strongly before the mind.
Everything tends to this effect; the stillness of the night is
interrupted only by the heavy breathing of the seamen beneath the
tents, and sometimes by the cry of a night-bird. The occasional barking
of a dog, heard in the distance, reminds one that it is the land of the
savage.
_January_ 29_th._—Early in the morning we arrived at the point where
the Beagle Channel divides into two arms; and we entered the northern
one. The scenery here becomes even grander than before. The lofty
mountains on the north side compose the granitic axis, or backbone of
the country, and boldly rise to a height of between three and four
thousand feet, with one peak above six thousand feet. They are covered
by a wide mantle of perpetual snow, and numerous cascades pour their
waters, through the woods, into the narrow channel below. In many
parts, magnificent glaciers extend from the mountain side to the
water’s edge. It is scarcely possible to imagine anything more
beautiful than the beryl-like blue of these glaciers, and especially as
contrasted with the dead white of the upper expanse of snow. The
fragments which had fallen from the glacier into the water were
floating away, and the channel with its icebergs presented, for the
space of a mile, a miniature likeness of the Polar Sea. The boats being
hauled on shore at our dinner-hour, we were admiring from the distance
of half a mile a perpendicular cliff of ice, and were wishing that some
more fragments would fall. At last, down came a mass with a roaring
noise, and immediately we saw the smooth outline of a wave travelling
towards us. The men ran down as quickly as they could to the boats; for
the chance of their being dashed to pieces was evident. One of the
seamen just caught hold of the bows, as the curling breaker reached it:
he was knocked over and over, but not hurt, and the boats, though
thrice lifted on high and let fall again, received no damage. This was
most fortunate for us, for we were a hundred miles distant from the
ship, and we should have been left without provisions or firearms. I
had previously observed that some large fragments of rock on the beach
had been lately displaced;
but until seeing this wave I did not understand the cause. One side of
the creek was formed by a spur of mica-slate; the head by a cliff of
ice about forty feet high; and the other side by a promontory fifty
feet high, built up of huge rounded fragments of granite and
mica-slate, out of which old trees were growing. This promontory was
evidently a moraine, heaped up at a period when the glacier had greater
dimensions.
When we reached the western mouth of this northern branch of the Beagle
Channel, we sailed amongst many unknown desolate islands, and the
weather was wretchedly bad. We met with no natives. The coast was
almost everywhere so steep that we had several times to pull many miles
before we could find space enough to pitch our two tents: one night we
slept on large round boulders, with putrefying sea-weed between them;
and when the tide rose, we had to get up and move our blanket-bags. The
farthest point westward which we reached was Stewart Island, a distance
of about one hundred and fifty miles from our ship. We returned into
the Beagle Channel by the southern arm, and thence proceeded, with no
adventure, back to Ponsonby Sound.
_February_ 6_th._—We arrived at Woollya. Matthews gave so bad an
account of the conduct of the Fuegians, that Captain Fitz Roy
determined to take him back to the _Beagle_; and ultimately he was left
at New Zealand, where his brother was a missionary. From the time of
our leaving, a regular system of plunder commenced; fresh parties of
the natives kept arriving: York and Jemmy lost many things, and
Matthews almost everything which had not been concealed underground.
Every article seemed to have been torn up and divided by the natives.
Matthews described the watch he was obliged always to keep as most
harassing; night and day he was surrounded by the natives, who tried to
tire him out by making an incessant noise close to his head. One day an
old man, whom Matthews asked to leave his wigwam, immediately returned
with a large stone in his hand: another day a whole party came armed
with stones and stakes, and some of the younger men and Jemmy’s brother
were crying: Matthews met them with presents. Another party showed by
signs that they wished to strip him naked and pluck all the hairs out
of his face and body. I think we arrived just in time to save his life.
Jemmy’s relatives had been so vain and foolish, that they had showed to
strangers their plunder, and their manner
of obtaining it. It was quite melancholy leaving the three Fuegians
with their savage countrymen; but it was a great comfort that they had
no personal fears. York, being a powerful resolute man, was pretty sure
to get on well, together with his wife Fuegia. Poor Jemmy looked rather
disconsolate, and would then, I have little doubt, have been glad to
have returned with us. His own brother had stolen many things from him;
and as he remarked, “What fashion call that:” he abused his countrymen,
“all bad men, no sabe (know) nothing” and, though I never heard him
swear before, “damned fools.” Our three Fuegians, though they had been
only three years with civilised men, would, I am sure, have been glad
to have retained their new habits; but this was obviously impossible. I
fear it is more than doubtful whether their visit will have been of any
use to them.
In the evening, with Matthews on board, we made sail back to the ship,
not by the Beagle Channel, but by the southern coast. The boats were
heavily laden and the sea rough, and we had a dangerous passage. By the
evening of the 7th we were on board the _ Beagle_ after an absence of
twenty days, during which time we had gone three hundred miles in the
open boats. On the 11th Captain Fitz Roy paid a visit by himself to the
Fuegians and found them going on well; and that they had lost very few
more things.
On the last day of February in the succeeding year (1834) the _Beagle_
anchored in a beautiful little cove at the eastern entrance of the
Beagle Channel. Captain Fitz Roy determined on the bold, and as it
proved successful, attempt to beat against the westerly winds by the
same route which we had followed in the boats to the settlement at
Woollya. We did not see many natives until we were near Ponsonby Sound,
where we were followed by ten or twelve canoes. The natives did not at
all understand the reason of our tacking, and, instead of meeting us at
each tack, vainly strove to follow us in our zigzag course. I was
amused at finding what a difference the circumstance of being quite
superior in force made, in the interest of beholding these savages.
While in the boats I got to hate the very sound of their voices, so
much trouble did they give us. The first and last word was
“yammerschooner.” When, entering some quiet little cove, we have looked
round and thought to pass a quiet
night, the odious word “yammerschooner” has shrilly sounded from some
gloomy nook, and then the little signal-smoke has curled up to spread
the news far and wide. On leaving some place we have said to each
other, “Thank heaven, we have at last fairly left these wretches!” when
one more faint halloo from an all-powerful voice, heard at a prodigious
distance, would reach our ears, and clearly could we
distinguish—“yammerschooner.” But now, the more Fuegians the merrier;
and very merry work it was. Both parties laughing, wondering, gaping at
each other; we pitying them, for giving us good fish and crabs for
rags, etc.; they grasping at the chance of finding people so foolish as
to exchange such splendid ornaments for a good supper. It was most
amusing to see the undisguised smile of satisfaction with which one
young woman with her face painted black, tied several bits of scarlet
cloth round her head with rushes. Her husband, who enjoyed the very
universal privilege in this country of possessing two wives, evidently
became jealous of all the attention paid to his young wife; and, after
a consultation with his naked beauties, was paddled away by them.
Some of the Fuegians plainly showed that they had a fair notion of
barter. I gave one man a large nail (a most valuable present) without
making any signs for a return; but he immediately picked out two fish,
and handed them up on the point of his spear. If any present was
designed for one canoe, and it fell near another, it was invariably
given to the right owner. The Fuegian boy, whom Mr. Low had on board,
showed, by going into the most violent passion, that he quite
understood the reproach of being called a liar, which in truth he was.
We were this time, as on all former occasions, much surprised at the
little notice, or rather none whatever, which was taken of many things,
the use of which must have been evident to the natives. Simple
circumstances—such as the beauty of scarlet cloth or blue beads, the
absence of women, our care in washing ourselves,—excited their
admiration far more than any grand or complicated object, such as our
ship. Bougainville has well remarked concerning these people, that they
treat the “chefs d’œuvres de l’industrie humaine, comme ils traitent
les loix de la nature et ses phénomènes.”
On the 5th of March we anchored in a cove at Woollya,
but we saw not a soul there. We were alarmed at this, for the natives
in Ponsonby Sound showed by gestures that there had been fighting; and
we afterwards heard that the dreaded Oens men had made a descent. Soon
a canoe, with a little flag flying, was seen approaching, with one of
the men in it washing the paint off his face. This man was poor
Jemmy,—now a thin, haggard savage, with long disordered hair, and
naked, except a bit of blanket round his waist. We did not recognize
him till he was close to us, for he was ashamed of himself, and turned
his back to the ship. We had left him plump, fat, clean, and
well-dressed;—I never saw so complete and grievous a change. As soon
however as he was clothed, and the first flurry was over, things wore a
good appearance. He dined with Captain Fitz Roy, and ate his dinner as
tidily as formerly. He told us that he had “too much” (meaning enough)
to eat, that he was not cold, that his relations were very good people,
and that he did not wish to go back to England: in the evening we found
out the cause of this great change in Jemmy’s feelings, in the arrival
of his young and nice-looking wife. With his usual good feeling, he
brought two beautiful otter-skins for two of his best friends, and some
spear-heads and arrows made with his own hands for the Captain. He said
he had built a canoe for himself, and he boasted that he could talk a
little of his own language! But it is a most singular fact, that he
appears to have taught all his tribe some English: an old man
spontaneously announced “Jemmy Button’s wife.” Jemmy had lost all his
property. He told us that York Minster had built a large canoe, and
with his wife Fuegia,[3] had several months since gone to his own
country, and had taken farewell by an act of consummate villainy; he
persuaded Jemmy and his mother to come with him, and then on the way
deserted them by night, stealing every article of their property.
[3] Captain Sulivan, who, since his voyage in the _Beagle_, has been
employed on the survey of the Falkland Islands, heard from a sealer in
(1842?), that when in the western part of the Strait of Magellan, he
was astonished by a native woman coming on board, who could talk some
English. Without doubt this was Fuegia Basket. She lived (I fear the
term probably bears a double interpretation) some days on board.
Jemmy went to sleep on shore, and in the morning returned, and remained
on board till the ship got under weigh, which frightened his wife, who
continued crying violently till he got
into his canoe. He returned loaded with valuable property. Every soul
on board was heartily sorry to shake hands with him for the last time.
I do not now doubt that he will be as happy as, perhaps happier than,
if he had never left his own country. Every one must sincerely hope
that Captain Fitz Roy’s noble hope may be fulfilled, of being rewarded
for the many generous sacrifices which he made for these Fuegians, by
some shipwrecked sailor being protected by the descendants of Jemmy
Button and his tribe! When Jemmy reached the shore, he lighted a signal
fire, and the smoke curled up, bidding us a last and long farewell, as
the ship stood on her course into the open sea.
The perfect equality among the individuals composing the Fuegian tribes
must for a long time retard their civilisation. As we see those
animals, whose instinct compels them to live in society and obey a
chief, are most capable of improvement, so is it with the races of
mankind. Whether we look at it as a cause or a consequence, the more
civilised always have the most artificial governments. For instance,
the inhabitants of Otaheite, who, when first discovered, were governed
by hereditary kings, had arrived at a far higher grade than another
branch of the same people, the New Zealanders,—who, although benefited
by being compelled to turn their attention to agriculture, were
republicans in the most absolute sense. In Tierra del Fuego, until some
chief shall arise with power sufficient to secure any acquired
advantage, such as the domesticated animals, it seems scarcely possible
that the political state of the country can be improved. At present,
even a piece of cloth given to one is torn into shreds and distributed;
and no one individual becomes richer than another. On the other hand,
it is difficult to understand how a chief can arise till there is
property of some sort by which he might manifest his superiority and
increase his power.
I believe, in this extreme part of South America, man exists in a lower
state of improvement than in any other part of the world. The South Sea
Islanders, of the two races inhabiting the Pacific, are comparatively
civilised. The Esquimaux, in his subterranean hut, enjoys some of the
comforts of life, and in his canoe, when fully equipped, manifests much
skill. Some of the
tribes of Southern Africa, prowling about in search of roots, and
living concealed on the wild and arid plains, are sufficiently
wretched. The Australian, in the simplicity of the arts of life, comes
nearest the Fuegian: he can, however, boast of his boomerang, his spear
and throwing-stick, his method of climbing trees, of tracking animals,
and of hunting. Although the Australian may be superior in
acquirements, it by no means follows that he is likewise superior in
mental capacity: indeed, from what I saw of the Fuegians when on board
and from what I have read of the Australians, I should think the case
was exactly the reverse.
[Illustration: False Horn, Cape Horn.]
[Illustration: Wollaston Island, Tierra del Fuego]
Chapter XI
Strait of Magellan—Port Famine—Ascent of Mount Tarn—Forests—Edible
fungus—Zoology—Great Seaweed—Leave Tierra del Fuego—Climate—Fruit-trees
and productions of the southern coasts—Height of snow-line on the
Cordillera—Descent of glaciers to the sea—Icebergs formed—Transportal
of boulders—Climate and productions of the Antarctic
Islands—Preservation of frozen carcasses—Recapitulation.
STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.—CLIMATE OF THE SOUTHERN COASTS.
In the end of May 1834 we entered for a second time the eastern mouth
of the Strait of Magellan. The country on both sides of this part of
the Strait consists of nearly level plains, like those of Patagonia.
Cape Negro, a little within the second Narrows, may be considered as
the point where the land begins to assume the marked features of Tierra
del Fuego. On the east coast, south of the Strait, broken park-like
scenery in a like manner connects these two countries, which are
opposed to each other in almost every feature. It is truly surprising
to find in a space of twenty miles such a change in the landscape. If
we take a rather greater distance, as between Port Famine and
Gregory Bay, that is about sixty miles, the difference is still more
wonderful. At the former place we have rounded mountains concealed by
impervious forests, which are drenched with the rain brought by an
endless succession of gales; while at Cape Gregory there is a clear and
bright blue sky over the dry and sterile plains. The atmospheric
currents,[1] although rapid, turbulent, and unconfined by any apparent
limits, yet seem to follow, like a river in its bed, a regularly
determined course.
[1] The south-westerly breezes are generally very dry. January 29th,
being at anchor under Cape Gregory: a very hard gale from west by
south, clear sky with few cumuli; temperature 57°, dew-point
36°,—difference 21°. On January 15th, at Port St. Julian: in the
morning light winds with much rain, followed by a very heavy squall
with rain,—settled into heavy gale with large cumuli,—cleared up,
blowing very strong from south-south-west. Temperature 60°, dew-point
42°,—difference 18°.
Patagonians from Cape Gregory
During our previous visit (in January), we had an interview at Cape
Gregory with the famous so-called gigantic Patagonians, who gave us a
cordial reception. Their height appears greater than it really is, from
their large guanaco mantles, their long flowing hair, and general
figure: on an average their height is about six feet, with some men
taller and only a few shorter; and the women are also tall; altogether
they are certainly the tallest race which we anywhere saw. In features
they strikingly
resemble the more northern Indians whom I saw with Rosas, but they have
a wilder and more formidable appearance: their faces were much painted
with red and black, and one man was ringed and dotted with white like a
Fuegian. Captain Fitz Roy offered to take any three of them on board,
and all seemed determined to be of the three. It was long before we
could clear the boat; at last we got on board with our three giants,
who dined with the Captain, and behaved quite like gentlemen, helping
themselves with knives, forks, and spoons: nothing was so much relished
as sugar. This tribe has had so much communication with sealers and
whalers, that most of the men can speak a little English and Spanish;
and they are half civilised, and proportionally demoralised.
Port Famine, Magellan
The next morning a large party went on shore, to barter for skins and
ostrich-feathers; fire-arms being refused, tobacco was in greatest
request, far more so than axes or tools. The whole population of the
toldos, men, women, and children, were arranged on a bank. It was an
amusing scene, and it was impossible not to
like the so-called giants, they were so thoroughly good-humoured and
unsuspecting: they asked us to come again. They seem to like to have
Europeans to live with them; and old Maria, an important woman in the
tribe, once begged Mr. Low to leave any one of his sailors with them.
They spend the greater part of the year here; but in summer they hunt
along the foot of the Cordillera: sometimes they travel as far as the
Rio Negro, 750 miles to the north. They are well stocked with horses,
each man having, according to Mr. Low, six or seven, and all the women,
and even children, their one own horse. In the time of Sarmiento (1580)
these Indians had bows and arrows, now long since disused; they then
also possessed some horses. This is a very curious fact, showing the
extraordinarily rapid multiplication of horses in South America. The
horse was first landed at Buenos Ayres in 1537, and the colony being
then for a time deserted, the horse ran wild;[2] in 1580, only
forty-three years afterwards, we hear of them at the Strait of
Magellan! Mr. Low informs me, that a neighbouring tribe of foot-Indians
is now changing into horse-Indians: the tribe at Gregory Bay giving
them their worn-out horses, and sending in winter a few of their best
skilled men to hunt for them.
[2] Rengger, _Natur. der Saeugethiere von Paraguay._ S. 334.
_June_ 1_st._—We anchored in the fine bay of Port Famine. It was now
the beginning of winter, and I never saw a more cheerless prospect; the
dusky woods, piebald with snow, could be only seen indistinctly through
a drizzling hazy atmosphere. We were, however, lucky in getting two
fine days. On one of these, Mount Sarmiento, a distant mountain 6800
feet high, presented a very noble spectacle. I was frequently
surprised, in the scenery of Tierra del Fuego, at the little apparent
elevation of mountains really lofty. I suspect it is owing to a cause
which would not at first be imagined, namely, that the whole mass, from
the summit to the water’s edge, is generally in full view. I remember
having seen a mountain, first from the Beagle Channel, where the whole
sweep from the summit to the base was full in view, and then from
Ponsonby Sound across several successive ridges; and it was curious to
observe in the latter case, as each fresh ridge afforded fresh means of
judging of the distance, how the mountain rose in height.
Before reaching Port Famine, two men were seen running along the shore
and hailing the ship. A boat was sent for them.
They turned out to be two sailors who had run away from a
sealing-vessel, and had joined the Patagonians. These Indians had
treated them with their usual disinterested hospitality. They had
parted company through accident, and were then proceeding to Port
Famine in hopes of finding some ship. I daresay they were worthless
vagabonds, but I never saw more miserable-looking ones. They had been
living for some days on mussel-shells and berries, and their tattered
clothes had been burnt by sleeping so near their fires. They had been
exposed night and day, without any shelter, to the late incessant
gales, with rain, sleet, and snow, and yet they were in good health.
[Illustration]
During our stay at Port Famine, the Fuegians twice came and plagued us.
As there were many instruments, clothes, and men on shore, it was
thought necessary to frighten them away. The first time a few great
guns were fired, when they were far distant. It was most ludicrous to
watch through a glass the Indians, as often as the shot struck the
water, take up stones, and, as a bold defiance, throw them towards the
ship, though about a mile and a half distant! A boat was then sent with
orders to fire a few musket-shots wide of them. The Fuegians hid
themselves behind the trees, and for every discharge of the muskets
they fired their arrows; all, however, fell short of the boat, and the
officer as he pointed at them laughed. This made the Fuegians frantic
with passion, and they shook their mantles in vain rage. At last,
seeing the balls cut and strike the trees, they ran away, and we were
left in peace and quietness. During the former voyage the Fuegians were
here very troublesome, and to frighten them a rocket was fired at night
over their wigwams; it answered effectually, and one of the officers
told me that the clamour first raised, and the barking of the dogs, was
quite ludicrous in contrast with the profound silence which in a minute
or two afterwards prevailed. The next morning not a single Fuegian was
in the neighbourhood.
Patagonian spurs and pipe
When the _Beagle_ was here in the month of February, I started one
morning at four o’clock to ascend Mount Tarn, which is 2600 feet high,
and is the most elevated point in this immediate district. We went in a
boat to the foot of the mountain (but unluckily not to the best part),
and then began our ascent. The forest commences at the line of
high-water mark, and during the first two hours I gave over all hopes
of reaching the summit. So thick was the wood, that it was necessary to
have constant recourse to the compass; for every landmark, though in a
mountainous country, was completely shut out. In the deep ravines the
death-like scene of desolation exceeded all description; outside it was
blowing a gale, but in these hollows not even a breath of wind stirred
the leaves of the tallest trees. So gloomy, cold, and wet was every
part, that not even the fungi, mosses, or ferns could flourish. In the
valleys it was scarcely possible to crawl along, they were so
completely barricaded by great mouldering trunks, which had fallen down
in every direction. When passing over these natural bridges, one’s
course was often arrested by sinking knee deep into the rotten wood; at
other times, when attempting to lean against a firm tree, one was
startled by finding a mass of decayed matter ready to fall at the
slightest touch. We at last found ourselves among the stunted trees,
and then soon reached the bare ridge, which conducted us to the summit.
Here was a view characteristic of Tierra del Fuego; irregular chains of
hills, mottled with patches
of snow, deep yellowish-green valleys, and arms of the sea intersecting
the land in many directions. The strong wind was piercingly cold, and
the atmosphere rather hazy, so that we did not stay long on the top of
the mountain. Our descent was not quite so laborious as our ascent, for
the weight of the body forced a passage, and all the slips and falls
were in the right direction.
I have already mentioned the sombre and dull character of the evergreen
forests,[3] in which two or three species of trees grow, to the
exclusion of all others. Above the forest land there are many dwarf
alpine plants, which all spring from the mass of peat, and help to
compose it: these plants are very remarkable from their close alliance
with the species growing on the mountains of Europe, though so many
thousand miles distant. The central part of Tierra del Fuego, where the
clay-slate formation occurs, is most favourable to the growth of trees;
on the outer coast the poorer granitic soil, and a situation more
exposed to the violent winds, do not allow of their attaining any great
size. Near Port Famine I have seen more large trees than anywhere else:
I measured a Winter’s Bark which was four feet six inches in girth, and
several of the beech were as much as thirteen feet. Captain King also
mentions a beech which was seven feet in diameter seventeen feet above
the roots.
[3] Captain Fitz Roy informs me that in April (our October) the leaves
of those trees which grow near the base of the mountains change
colour, but not those on the more elevated parts. I remember having
read some observations, showing that in England the leaves fall
earlier in a warm and fine autumn than in a late and cold one. The
change in the colour being here retarded in the more elevated, and
therefore colder situations, must be owing to the same general law of
vegetation. The trees of Tierra del Fuego during no part of the year
entirely shed their leaves.
[Illustration]
There is one vegetable production deserving notice from its importance
as an article of food to the Fuegians. It is a globular, bright-yellow
fungus, which grows in vast numbers on the beech-trees. When young it
is elastic and turgid, with a smooth surface; but when mature, it
shrinks, becomes tougher, and has its entire surface deeply pitted or
honeycombed, as represented in the figure at right. This fungus belongs
to a new and curious genus;[4] I found a second
species on another species of beech in Chile: and Dr. Hooker informs me
that just lately a third species has been discovered on a third species
of beech in Van Diemen’s Land. How singular is this relationship
between parasitical fungi and the trees on which they grow, in distant
parts of the world! In Tierra del Fuego the fungus in its tough and
mature state is collected in large quantities by the women and
children, and is eaten uncooked. It has a mucilaginous, slightly sweet
taste, with a faint smell like that of a mushroom. With the exception
of a few berries, chiefly of a dwarf arbutus, the natives eat no
vegetable food besides this fungus. In New Zealand, before the
introduction of the potato, the roots of the fern were largely
consumed; at the present time, I believe, Tierra del Fuego is the only
country in the world where a cryptogamic plant affords a staple article
of food.
[4] Described from my specimens and notes by the Reverend J. M.
Berkeley in the _Linnean Transactions_ (vol. xix, p. 37), under the
name of Cyttaria Darwinii: the Chilean species is the C. Berteroii.
This genus is allied to Bulgaria.
The zoology of Tierra del Fuego, as might have been expected from the
nature of its climate and vegetation, is very poor. Of mammalia,
besides whales and seals, there is one bat, a kind of mouse (Reithrodon
chinchilloides), two true mice, a ctenomys allied to or identical with
the tucutuco, two foxes (Canis Magellanicus and C. Azaræ), a sea-otter,
the guanaco, and a deer. Most of these animals inhabit only the drier
eastern parts of the country; and the deer has never been seen south of
the Strait of Magellan. Observing the general correspondence of the
cliffs of soft sandstone, mud, and shingle, on the opposite sides of
the Strait, and on some intervening islands, one is strongly tempted to
believe that the land was once joined, and thus allowed animals so
delicate and helpless as the tucutuco and Reithrodon to pass over. The
correspondence of the cliffs is far from proving any junction; because
such cliffs generally are formed by the intersection of sloping
deposits, which, before the elevation of the land, had been accumulated
near the then existing shores. It is, however, a remarkable
coincidence, that in the two large islands cut off by the Beagle
Channel from the rest of Tierra del Fuego, one has cliffs composed of
matter that may be called stratified alluvium, which front similar ones
on the opposite side of the
channel,—while the other is exclusively bordered by old crystalline
rocks; in the former, called Navarin Island, both foxes and guanacos
occur; but in the latter, Hoste Island, although similar in every
respect, and only separated by a channel a little more than half a mile
wide, I have the word of Jemmy Button for saying that neither of these
animals is found.
The gloomy woods are inhabited by few birds: occasionally the plaintive
note of a white-tufted tyrant-flycatcher (Myiobius albiceps) may be
heard, concealed near the summit of the most lofty trees; and more
rarely the loud strange cry of a black woodpecker, with a fine scarlet
crest on its head. A little, dusky-coloured wren (Scytalopus
Magellanicus) hops in a skulking manner among the entangled mass of the
fallen and decaying trunks. But the creeper (Oxyurus tupinieri) is the
commonest bird in the country. Throughout the beech forests, high up
and low down, in the most gloomy, wet, and impenetrable ravines, it may
be met with. This little bird no doubt appears more numerous than it
really is, from its habit of following with seeming curiosity any
person who enters these silent woods: continually uttering a harsh
twitter, it flutters from tree to tree, within a few feet of the
intruder’s face. It is far from wishing for the modest concealment of
the true creeper (Certhia familiaris); nor does it, like that bird, run
up the trunks of trees, but industriously, after the manner of a
willow-wren, hops about, and searches for insects on every twig and
branch. In the more open parts, three or four species of finches, a
thrush, a starling (or Icterus), two Opetiorhynchi, and several hawks
and owls occur.
The absence of any species whatever in the whole class of Reptiles is a
marked feature in the zoology of this country, as well as in that of
the Falkland Islands. I do not ground this statement merely on my own
observation, but I heard it from the Spanish inhabitants of the latter
place, and from Jemmy Button with regard to Tierra del Fuego. On the
banks of the Santa Cruz, in 50 degrees south, I saw a frog; and it is
not improbable that these animals, as well as lizards, may be found as
far south as the Strait of Magellan, where the country retains the
character of Patagonia; but within the damp and cold limit of Tierra
del Fuego not one occurs. That the climate would not have
suited some of the orders, such as lizards, might have been foreseen;
but with respect to frogs, this was not so obvious.
Beetles occur in very small numbers: it was long before I could believe
that a country as large as Scotland, covered with vegetable productions
and with a variety of stations, could be so unproductive. The few which
I found were alpine species (Harpalidæ and Heteromidæ) living under
stones. The vegetable-feeding Chrysomelidæ, so eminently characteristic
of the Tropics, are here almost entirely absent;[5] I saw very few
flies, butterflies, or bees, and no crickets or Orthoptera. In the
pools of water I found but few aquatic beetles, and not any fresh-water
shells: Succinea at first appears an exception; but here it must be
called a terrestrial shell, for it lives on the damp herbage far from
water. Land-shells could be procured only in the same alpine situations
with the beetles. I have already contrasted the climate as well as the
general appearance of Tierra del Fuego with that of Patagonia; and the
difference is strongly exemplified in the entomology. I do not believe
they have one species in common; certainly the general character of the
insects is widely different.
[5] I believe I must except one alpine Haltica, and a single specimen
of a Melasoma. Mr. Waterhouse informs me, that of the Harpalidæ there
are eight or nine species—the forms of the greater number being very
peculiar; of Heteromera, four or five species; of Rhyncophora, six or
seven; and of the following families one species in each:
Staphylinidæ, Elateridæ, Cebrionidæ, Melolonthidæ. The species in the
other orders are even fewer. In all the orders, the scarcity of the
individuals is even more remarkable than that of the species. Most of
the Coleoptera have been carefully described by Mr. Waterhouse in the
_Annals of Nat. Hist._
If we turn from the land to the sea, we shall find the latter as
abundantly stocked with living creatures as the former is poorly so. In
all parts of the world a rocky and partially protected shore perhaps
supports, in a given space, a greater number of individual animals than
any other station. There is one marine production which, from its
importance, is worthy of a particular history. It is the kelp, or
Macrocystis pyrifera. This plant grows on every rock from low-water
mark to a great depth, both on the outer coast and within the
channels.[6] I
believe, during the voyages of the _Adventure_ and _ Beagle_, not one
rock near the surface was discovered which was not buoyed by this
floating weed. The good service it thus affords to vessels navigating
near this stormy land is evident; and it certainly has saved many a one
from being wrecked. I know few things more surprising than to see this
plant growing and flourishing amidst those great breakers of the
western ocean, which no mass of rock, let it be ever so hard, can long
resist. The stem is round, slimy, and smooth, and seldom has a diameter
of so much as an inch. A few taken together are sufficiently strong to
support the weight of the large loose stones, to which in the inland
channels they grow attached; and yet some of these stones were so heavy
that when drawn to the surface, they could scarcely be lifted into a
boat by one person. Captain Cook, in his second voyage, says that this
plant at Kerguelen Land rises from a greater depth than twenty-four
fathoms; “and as it does not grow in a perpendicular direction, but
makes a very acute angle with the bottom, and much of it afterwards
spreads many fathoms on the surface of the sea, I am well warranted to
say that some of it grows to the length of sixty fathoms and upwards.”
I do not suppose the stem of any other plant attains so great a length
as three hundred and sixty feet, as stated by Captain Cook. Captain
Fitz Roy, moreover, found it growing[7] up from the greater depth of
forty-five fathoms. The beds of this sea-weed, even when of not great
breadth, make excellent natural floating breakwaters. It is quite
curious to see, in an exposed harbour, how soon the waves from the open
sea, as they travel through the straggling stems, sink in height, and
pass into smooth water.
[6] Its geographical range is remarkably wide; it is found from the
extreme southern islets near Cape Horn, as far north on the eastern
coast (according to information given me by Mr. Stokes) as lat.
43°,—but on the western coast, as Dr. Hooker tells me, it extends to
the R. San Francisco in California, and perhaps even to Kamtschatka.
We thus have an immense range in latitude; and as Cook, who must have
been well acquainted with the species, found it at Kerguelen Land, no
less than 140° in longitude.
[7] _Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle_, vol. i, p. 363. It appears
that seaweed grows extremely quick. Mr. Stephenson found (Wilson’s
_Voyage round Scotland_ vol. ii, p. 228) that a rock uncovered only at
spring-tides, which had been chiselled smooth in November, on the
following May, that is, within six months afterwards, was thickly
covered with Fucus digitatus two feet, and F. esculentus six feet, in
length.
The number of living creatures of all Orders, whose existence
intimately depends on the kelp, is wonderful. A great volume might be
written, describing the inhabitants of one of these beds of seaweed.
Almost all the leaves, excepting those that float on the surface, are
so thickly incrusted with corallines as
to be of a white colour. We find exquisitely delicate structures, some
inhabited by simple hydra-like polypi, others by more organised kinds,
and beautiful compound Ascidiæ. On the leaves, also, various
patelliform shells, Trochi, uncovered molluscs, and some bivalves are
attached. Innumerable crustacea frequent every part of the plant. On
shaking the great entangled roots, a pile of small fish, shells,
cuttlefish, crabs of all orders, sea-eggs, starfish, beautiful
Holothuriæ, Planariæ, and crawling nereidous animals of a multitude of
forms, all fall out together. Often as I recurred to a branch of the
kelp, I never failed to discover animals of new and curious structures.
In Chiloe, where the kelp does not thrive very well, the numerous
shells, corallines, and crustacea are absent; but there yet remain a
few of the Flustraceæ, and some compound Ascidiæ; the latter, however,
are of different species from those in Tierra del Fuego; we see here
the fucus possessing a wider range than the animals which use it as an
abode. I can only compare these great aquatic forests of the southern
hemisphere with the terrestrial ones in the intertropical regions. Yet
if in any country a forest was destroyed, I do not believe nearly so
many species of animals would perish as would here, from the
destruction of the kelp. Amidst the leaves of this plant numerous
species of fish live, which nowhere else could find food or shelter;
with their destruction the many cormorants and other fishing birds, the
otters, seals, and porpoises, would soon perish also; and lastly, the
Fuegian savage, the miserable lord of this miserable land, would
redouble his cannibal feast, decrease in numbers, and perhaps cease to
exist.
_June_ 8_th._—We weighed anchor early in the morning and left Port
Famine. Captain Fitz Roy determined to leave the Strait of Magellan by
the Magdalen Channel, which had not long been discovered. Our course
lay due south, down that gloomy passage which I have before alluded to
as appearing to lead to another and worse world. The wind was fair, but
the atmosphere was very thick; so that we missed much curious scenery.
The dark ragged clouds were rapidly driven over the mountains, from
their summits nearly down to their bases. The glimpses which we caught
through the dusky mass were highly interesting; jagged points, cones of
snow, blue glaciers, strong outlines, marked on a lurid sky, were seen
at different distances and
heights. In the midst of such scenery we anchored at Cape Turn, close
to Mount Sarmiento, which was then hidden in the clouds. At the base of
the lofty and almost perpendicular sides of our little cove there was
one deserted wigwam, and it alone reminded us that man sometimes
wandered into these desolate regions. But it would be difficult to
imagine a scene where he seemed to have fewer claims or less authority.
The inanimate works of nature—rock, ice, snow, wind, and water, all
warring with each other, yet combined against man—here reigned in
absolute sovereignty.
_June_ 9_th._—In the morning we were delighted by seeing the veil of
mist gradually rise from Sarmiento, and display it to our view. This
mountain, which is one of the highest in Tierra del Fuego, has an
altitude of 6800 feet. Its base, for about an eighth of its total
height, is clothed by dusky woods, and above this a field of snow
extends to the summit. These vast piles of snow, which never melt, and
seem destined to last as long as the world holds together, present a
noble and even sublime spectacle. The outline of the mountain was
admirably clear and defined. Owing to the abundance of light reflected
from the white and glittering surface, no shadows were cast on any
part; and those lines which intersected the sky could alone be
distinguished: hence the mass stood out in the boldest relief. Several
glaciers descended in a winding course from the upper great expanse of
snow to the sea-coast: they may be likened to great frozen Niagaras;
and perhaps these cataracts of blue ice are full as beautiful as the
moving ones of water. By night we reached the western part of the
channel; but the water was so deep that no anchorage could be found. We
were in consequence obliged to stand off and on in this narrow arm of
the sea, during a pitch-dark night of fourteen hours long.
_June_ 10_th._—In the morning we made the best of our way into the open
Pacific. The western coast generally consists of low, rounded, quite
barren hills of granite and greenstone. Sir J. Narborough called one
part South Desolation, because it is “so desolate a land to behold:”
and well indeed might he say so. Outside the main islands there are
numberless scattered rocks on which the long swell of the open ocean
incessantly rages. We passed out between the East and West Furies;
and a little farther northward there are so many breakers that the sea
is called the Milky Way. One sight of such a coast is enough to make a
landsman dream for a week about shipwrecks, peril, and death; and with
this sight we bade farewell for ever to Tierra del Fuego.
The following discussion on the climate of the southern parts of the
continent with relation to its productions, on the snow-line, on the
extraordinarily low descent of the glaciers, and on the zone of
perpetual congelation in the antarctic islands, may be passed over by
any one not interested in these curious subjects, or the final
recapitulation alone may be read. I shall, however, here give only an
abstract, and must refer for details to the Thirteenth Chapter and the
Appendix of the former edition of this work.
_On the Climate and Productions of Tierra del Fuego and of the
South-west Coast._—The following table gives the mean temperature of
Tierra del Fuego, the Falkland Islands, and, for comparison, that of
Dublin:—
Summer Winter Mean of Summer
Latitude. Temp. Temp. and Winter.
Tierra del Fuego 53° 38′ S. 50° 33.08° 41.54°
Falkland Islands 51° 30′ S. 51° — —
Dublin 53° 21′ N. 59.54° 39.20° 49.37°
Hence we see that the central part of Tierra del Fuego is colder in
winter, and no less than 9.5° less hot in summer, than Dublin.
According to von Buch the mean temperature of July (not the hottest
month in the year) at Saltenfiord in Norway, is as high as 57.8°, and
this place is actually 13° nearer the pole than Port Famine![8]
Inhospitable as this climate appears to our feelings, evergreen trees
flourish luxuriantly under it. Humming-birds may be seen sucking the
flowers, and parrots feeding on the seeds of the Winter’s Bark, in
latitude 55 degrees south. I have already remarked to what a degree the
sea swarms with living creatures; and the shells
(such as the Patellæ, Fissurellæ, Chitons, and Barnacles), according to
Mr. G. B. Sowerby, are of a much larger size, and of a more vigorous
growth, than the analogous species in the northern hemisphere. A large
Voluta is abundant in southern Tierra del Fuego and the Falkland
Islands. At Bahia Blanca, in lat. 39° S., the most abundant shells were
three species of Oliva (one of large size), one or two Volutas, and a
Terebra. Now these are amongst the best characterised tropical forms.
It is doubtful whether even one small species of Oliva exists on the
southern shores of Europe, and there are no species of the two other
genera. If a geologist were to find in lat. 39° on the coast of
Portugal a bed containing numerous shells belonging to three species of
Oliva, to a Voluta, and Terebra, he would probably assert that the
climate at the period of their existence must have been tropical; but,
judging from South America, such an inference might be erroneous.
[8] With respect to Tierra del Fuego, the results are deduced from the
observations of Capt. King (_Geographical Journal_, 1830), and those
taken on board the _Beagle._ For the Falkland Islands, I am indebted
to Captain Sulivan for the mean of the mean temperature (reduced from
careful observation at midnight, 8 A.M., noon, and 8 P.M.) of the
three hottest months, namely, December, January, and February. The
temperature of Dublin is taken from Barton.
The equable, humid, and windy climate of Tierra del Fuego extends, with
only a small increase of heat, for many degrees along the west coast of
the continent. The forests for 600 miles northward of Cape Horn, have a
very similar aspect. As a proof of the equable climate, even for 300 or
400 miles still farther northward, I may mention that in Chiloe
(corresponding in latitude with the northern parts of Spain) the peach
seldom produces fruit, whilst strawberries and apples thrive to
perfection. Even the crops of barley and wheat[9] are often brought
into the houses to be dried and ripened. At Valdivia (in the same
latitude of 40° with Madrid) grapes and figs ripen, but are not common;
olives seldom ripen even partially, and oranges not at all. These
fruits, in corresponding latitudes in Europe, are well known to succeed
to perfection; and even in this continent, at the Rio Negro, under
nearly the same parallel with Valdivia, sweet potatoes (convolvulus)
are cultivated; and grapes, figs, olives, oranges, water and musk
melons, produce abundant fruit. Although the humid and equable climate
of Chiloe, and of the coast northward and southward of it, is so
unfavourable to our fruits, yet the native forests, from lat. 45° to
38°, almost rival in luxuriance those of the glowing intertropical
regions. Stately trees of many kinds, with smooth and highly coloured
barks, are loaded by parasitical monocotyledonous
plants; large and elegant ferns are numerous, and arborescent grasses
entwine the trees into one entangled mass to the height of thirty or
forty feet above the ground. Palm-trees grow in latitude 37°; an
arborescent grass, very like a bamboo, in 40°; and another closely
allied kind, of great length, but not erect, flourishes even as far
south as 45° S.
[9] Agüeros, _Descrip. Hist. de la Prov. de Chiloé_, 1791, p. 94.
An equable climate, evidently due to the large area of sea compared
with the land, seems to extend over the greater part of the southern
hemisphere; and as a consequence, the vegetation partakes of a
semi-tropical character. Tree-ferns thrive luxuriantly in Van Diemen’s
Land (lat. 45°), and I measured one trunk no less than six feet in
circumference. An arborescent fern was found by Forster in New Zealand
in 46°, where orchideous plants are parasitical on the trees. In the
Auckland Islands, ferns, according to Dr. Dieffenbach,[10] have trunks
so thick and high that they may be almost called tree-ferns; and in
these islands, and even as far south as lat. 55° in the Macquarie
Islands, parrots abound.
[10] See the German Translation of this Journal; and for the other
facts Mr. Brown’s Appendix to Flinders’s _ Voyage._
_On the Height of the Snow-line, and on the Descent of the Glaciers, in
South America._—For the detailed authorities for the following table, I
must refer to the former edition:—
Latitude. Height in feet Observer
of Snow-line
Equatorial region: mean result 15,748 Humboldt.
Bolivia, lat. 16° to 18° S. 17,000 Pentland.
Central Chile, lat. 33° S. 14,500 to 15,000 Gillies, and the Author.
Chiloe, lat. 41° to 43° S. 6000 Officers of the Beagle and the Author.
Tierra del Fuego, 54° S. 3500 to 4000 King.
As the height of the plane of perpetual snow seems chiefly to be
determined by the extreme heat of the summer, rather than by the mean
temperature of the year, we ought not to be surprised at its descent in
the Strait of Magellan, where the summer is so cool, to only 3500 or
4000 feet above the level of the sea; although in Norway, we must
travel to between lat. 67° and 70° N., that is, about 14° nearer the
pole, to meet with perpetual snow at this low level. The difference in
height, namely, about 9000 feet, between the snow-line on the
Cordillera behind Chiloe (with its highest points ranging from
only 5600 to 7500 feet) and in central Chile[11] (a distance of only 9°
of latitude), is truly wonderful. The land from the southward of Chiloe
to near Concepcion (lat. 37°) is hidden by one dense forest dripping
with moisture. The sky is cloudy, and we have seen how badly the fruits
of southern Europe succeed. In central Chile, on the other hand, a
little northward of Concepcion, the sky is generally clear, rain does
not fall for the seven summer months, and southern European fruits
succeed admirably; and even the sugar-cane has been cultivated.[12] No
doubt the plane of perpetual snow undergoes the above remarkable
flexure of 9000 feet, unparalleled in other parts of the world, not far
from the latitude of Concepcion, where the land ceases to be covered
with forest-trees; for trees in South America indicate a rainy climate,
and rain a clouded sky and little heat in summer.
[11] On the Cordillera of central Chile, I believe the snow-line
varies exceedingly in height in different summers. I was assured that
during one very dry and long summer, all the snow disappeared from
Aconcagua, although it attains the prodigious height of 23,000 feet.
It is probable that much of the snow at these great heights is
evaporated, rather than thawed.
[12] Miers’s _Chile_, vol. i, p. 415. It is said that the sugar-cane
grew at Ingenio, lat. 32° to 33°, but not in sufficient quantity to
make the manufacture profitable. In the valley of Quillota, south of
Ingenio, I saw some large date-palm trees.
Eyre Sound
The descent of glaciers to the sea must, I conceive, mainly depend
(subject, of course, to a proper supply of snow in the upper region) on
the lowness of the line of perpetual snow on steep mountains near the
coast. As the snow-line is so low in Tierra del Fuego, we might have
expected that many of the glaciers would have reached the sea.
Nevertheless I was astonished when I first saw a range, only from 3000
to 4000 feet in height, in the latitude of Cumberland, with every
valley filled with streams of ice descending to the sea-coast. Almost
every arm of the sea, which penetrates to the interior higher chain,
not only in Tierra del Fuego, but on the coast for 650 miles
northwards, is terminated by “tremendous and astonishing glaciers,” as
described by one of the officers on the survey. Great masses of ice
frequently fall from these icy cliffs, and the crash reverberates like
the broadside of a man-of-war through the lonely channels. These falls,
as noticed in the last chapter, produce great waves which break on the
adjoining coasts. It is known that earthquakes frequently cause masses
of earth to fall from sea-cliffs: how terrific, then, would be the
effect of a severe shock (and such occur here[13]) on a body like a
glacier, already in motion, and traversed by fissures! I can readily
believe that the water would be fairly beaten back out of the deepest
channel, and then, returning with an overwhelming force, would whirl
about huge masses of rock like so much chaff. In Eyre’s Sound, in the
latitude of Paris, there are immense glaciers, and yet the loftiest
neighbouring mountain is only 6200 feet high. In this Sound, about
fifty icebergs were seen at one time floating outwards, and one of them
must have been _at least_ 168 feet in total height. Some of the
icebergs were loaded with blocks of no inconsiderable size, of granite
and other rocks, different from the clay-slate of the surrounding
mountains. The glacier farthest from the Pole, surveyed during the
voyages of the _Adventure_ and _Beagle_, is in lat. 46° 50′, in the
Gulf of Penas. It is 15 miles long, and in one part 7 broad, and
descends to the sea-coast. But even a few miles northward of this
glacier, in the Laguna de San Rafael, some Spanish missionaries[14]
encountered “many icebergs, some great, some small, and others
middle-sized,” in a narrow arm of the sea, on the 22nd of the month
corresponding with our
June, and in a latitude corresponding with that of the Lake of Geneva!
[13] Bulkeley’s and Cummin’s _Faithful Narrative of the Loss of the
Wager._ The earthquake happened August 25, 1741.
[14] Agüeros, _Desc. Hist. de Chiloé_, p. 227.
Glacier in Gulf of Penas
In Europe, the most southern glacier which comes down to the sea is met
with, according to Von Buch, on the coast of Norway, in lat. 67°. Now,
this is more than 20° of latitude, or 1230 miles, nearer the pole than
the Laguna de San Rafael. The position of the glaciers at this place
and in the Gulf of Penas may be put even in a more striking point of
view, for they descend to the sea-coast within 7½° degrees of latitude,
or 450 miles, of a harbour, where three species of Oliva, a Voluta, and
a Terebra, are the commonest shells, within less than 9° from where
palms grow, within 4½° of a region where the jaguar and puma range over
the plains, less than 2½° from arborescent grasses, and (looking to the
westward in the same hemisphere) less than 2° from orchideous
parasites, and within a single degree of tree-ferns!
These facts are of high geological interest with respect to the climate
of the northern hemisphere, at the period when boulders were
transported. I will not here detail how simply the theory of icebergs
being charged with fragments of rock explains the origin and position
of the gigantic boulders of eastern Tierra del Fuego, on the high plain
of Santa Cruz, and on the island of Chiloe. In Tierra del Fuego the
greater number of boulders lie on the lines of old sea-channels, now
converted into dry valleys by the elevation of the land. They are
associated with a great unstratified formation of mud and sand,
containing rounded and angular fragments of all sizes, which has
originated[15] in the repeated ploughing up of the sea-bottom by the
stranding of icebergs, and by the matter transported on them. Few
geologists now doubt that those erratic boulders which lie near lofty
mountains have been pushed forward by the glaciers themselves, and that
those distant from mountains, and embedded in subaqueous deposits, have
been conveyed thither either on icebergs, or frozen in coast-ice. The
connection between the transportal of boulders and the presence of ice
in some form, is strikingly shown by their geographical distribution
over the earth. In South America they are not found farther than 48° of
latitude, measured from the southern pole; in North America it appears
that the limit of their transportal extends to 53½° from the northern
pole; but in Europe to not more than 40° of latitude, measured from the
same point. On the other hand, in the intertropical parts of America,
Asia, and Africa, they have never been observed; nor at the Cape of
Good Hope, nor in Australia.[16]
[15] _Geological Transactions_, vol. vi, p. 415.
[16] I have given details (the first, I believe, published) on this
subject in the first edition, and in the Appendix to it. I have there
shown that the apparent exceptions to the absence of erratic boulders
in certain hot countries are due to erroneous observations; several
statements there given I have since found confirmed by various
authors.
_On the Climate and Productions of the Antarctic Islands._—Considering
the rankness of the vegetation in Tierra del Fuego, and on the coast
northward of it, the condition of the islands south and south-west of
America is truly surprising. Sandwich Land, in the latitude of the
north part of Scotland, was found by Cook, during the hottest month of
the year, “covered many fathoms thick with everlasting snow;” and there
seems to be scarcely any vegetation. Georgia, an island 96 miles long
and 10 broad, in the latitude of Yorkshire, “in the very height of
summer, is in a manner wholly covered with frozen snow.” It can boast
only of moss, some tufts of grass, and wild burnet; it has only one
land-bird (Anthus correndera), yet Iceland, which is 10° nearer the
pole, has, according to Mackenzie, fifteen land-birds. The South
Shetland Islands, in the same latitude as the southern half of Norway,
possess only some lichens, moss, and a little grass; and Lieut.
Kendall[17] found the bay in which he was at anchor, beginning to
freeze at a period corresponding with our 8th of September. The soil
here consists of ice and volcanic ashes interstratified; and at a
little depth beneath the surface it must remain perpetually congealed,
for Lieut. Kendall found the body of a foreign sailor which had long
been buried, with the flesh and all the features perfectly preserved.
It is a singular fact that on the two great continents in the northern
hemisphere (but not in the broken land of Europe between them) we have
the zone of perpetually frozen under-soil in a low latitude—namely, in
56 degrees in North America at the depth of three feet,[18] and in 62°
in Siberia at the depth of twelve to fifteen feet—as the result of a
directly opposite condition of things to those of the southern
hemisphere. On the northern continents, the winter is rendered
excessively cold by the radiation from a large area of land into a
clear sky, nor is it moderated by the warmth-bringing currents of the
sea; the short summer, on the other hand, is hot. In the Southern Ocean
the winter is not so excessively cold, but the summer is far less hot,
for the clouded sky seldom allows the sun to warm the ocean, itself a
bad absorbent of heat: and hence the mean temperature of the year,
which regulates the zone of perpetually congealed under-soil, is low.
It is evident that a rank vegetation, which does not so much require
heat as it does protection from intense cold, would approach much
nearer to this zone of perpetual congelation under the equable climate
of the southern hemisphere, than under the extreme climate of the
northern continents.
[17] _Geographical Journal_, 1830, pp. 65, 66.
[18] Richardson’s _Append. to Back’s Exped._ and Humboldt’s _ Fragm.
Asiat._ tome ii, p. 386.
[Illustration]
The case of the sailor’s body perfectly preserved in the icy soil of
the South Shetland Islands (lat. 62° to 63° S.), in a rather lower
latitude than that (lat. 64° N.) under which Pallas found the frozen
rhinoceros in Siberia, is very interesting. Although it is a fallacy,
as I have endeavoured to show in a former chapter, to suppose that the
larger quadrupeds require a luxuriant vegetation for their support,
nevertheless it is important to find in the South Shetland Islands a
frozen under-soil within 360 miles of the forest-clad islands near Cape
Horn, where, as far as the _ bulk_ of vegetation is concerned, any
number of great quadrupeds might be supported. The perfect preservation
of the carcasses of the Siberian elephants and rhinoceroses is
certainly one of the most wonderful facts in geology; but independently
of the imagined difficulty of supplying them with food from the
adjoining countries, the whole case is not, I think, so perplexing as
it has generally been considered. The plains of Siberia, like those of
the Pampas, appear to have been formed under the sea, into which rivers
brought down the bodies of many animals; of the greater number of these
only the skeletons have been preserved, but of others the perfect
carcass. Now it is known that in the shallow sea on the Arctic coast of
America the bottom freezes,[19] and does not thaw in spring so soon as
the surface
of the land, moreover, at greater depths, where the bottom of the sea
does not freeze, the mud a few feet beneath the top layer might remain
even in summer below 32°, as is the case on the land with the soil at
the depth of a few feet. At still greater depths the temperature of the
mud and water would probably not be low enough to preserve the flesh;
and hence, carcasses drifted beyond the shallow parts near an arctic
coast, would have only their skeletons preserved: now in the extreme
northern parts of Siberia bones are infinitely numerous, so that even
islets are said to be almost composed of them;[20] and those islets lie
no less than ten degrees of latitude north of the place where Pallas
found the frozen rhinoceros. On the other hand, a carcass washed by a
flood into a shallow part of the Arctic Sea, would be preserved for an
indefinite period, if it were soon afterwards covered with mud
sufficiently thick to prevent the heat of the summer water penetrating
to it; and if, when the sea-bottom was upraised into land, the covering
was sufficiently thick to prevent the heat of the summer air and sun
thawing and corrupting it.
[19] Messrs. Dease and Simpson, in _Geographical Journal_ vol. viii,
pp. 218 and 220.
[20] Cuvier (_Ossemens Fossiles,_ tome i, p. 151), from Billing’s
_Voyage._
_Recapitulation._—I will recapitulate the principal facts with regard
to the climate, ice-action, and organic productions of the southern
hemisphere, transposing the places in imagination to Europe, with which
we are so much better acquainted. Then, near Lisbon, the commonest
sea-shells, namely, three species of Oliva, a Voluta, and a Terebra,
would have a tropical character. In the southern provinces of France,
magnificent forests, intwined by arborescent grasses and with the trees
loaded with parasitical plants, would hide the face of the land. The
puma and the jaguar would haunt the Pyrenees. In the latitude of Mont
Blanc, but on an island as far westward as Central North America,
tree-ferns and parasitical Orchideæ would thrive amidst the thick
woods. Even as far north as central Denmark humming-birds would be seen
fluttering about delicate flowers, and parrots feeding amidst the
evergreen woods; and in the sea there we should have a Voluta, and all
the shells of large size and vigorous growth. Nevertheless, on some
islands only 360 miles northward of our new Cape Horn in Denmark, a
carcass buried in the soil (or if washed into a shallow sea, and
covered up with mud) would be preserved perpetually frozen. If some
bold navigator attempted to penetrate northward of these islands, he
would run a thousand dangers amidst gigantic icebergs, on some of which
he would see great blocks of rock borne far away from their original
site. Another island of large size in the latitude of southern
Scotland, but twice as far to the west, would be “almost wholly covered
with everlasting snow,” and would have each bay terminated by
ice-cliffs, whence great masses would be yearly detached: this island
would boast only of a little moss, grass, and burnet, and a titlark
would be its only land inhabitant. From our new Cape Horn in Denmark, a
chain of mountains, scarcely half the height of the Alps, would run in
a straight line due southward; and on its western flank every deep
creek of the sea, or fiord, would end in “bold and astonishing
glaciers.” These lonely channels would frequently reverberate with the
falls of ice, and so often would great waves rush along their coasts;
numerous icebergs, some as tall as cathedrals, and occasionally loaded
with “no inconsiderable blocks of rock,” would be stranded on the
outlying islets; at intervals violent earthquakes would shoot
prodigious masses of ice into the waters below. Lastly, some
missionaries
attempting to penetrate a long arm of the sea, would behold the not
lofty surrounding mountains, sending down their many grand icy streams
to the sea-coast, and their progress in the boats would be checked by
the innumerable floating icebergs, some small and some great; and this
would have occurred on our twenty-second of June, and where the Lake of
Geneva is now spread out![21]
[21] In the former edition and Appendix, I have given some facts on
the transportal of erratic boulders and icebergs in the Antarctic
Ocean. This subject has lately been treated excellently by Mr. Hayes,
in the _Boston Journal_ (vol. iv, p. 426). The author does not appear
aware of a case published by me (_Geographical Journal_, vol. ix, p.
528), of a gigantic boulder embedded in an iceberg in the Antarctic
Ocean, almost certainly one hundred miles distant from any land, and
perhaps much more distant. In the Appendix I have discussed at length
the probability (at that time hardly thought of) of icebergs, when
stranded, grooving and polishing rocks, like glaciers. This is now a
very commonly received opinion; and I cannot still avoid the suspicion
that it is applicable even to such cases as that of the Jura. Dr.
Richardson has assured me that the icebergs off North America push
before them pebbles and sand, and leave the submarine rocky flats
quite bare; it is hardly possible to doubt that such ledges must be
polished and scored in the direction of the set of the prevailing
currents. Since writing that Appendix I have seen in North Wales
(_London Phil. Mag._ vol. xxi, p. 180) the adjoining action of
glaciers and floating icebergs.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Trochilus Forficatus]
Chapter XII
Valparaiso—Excursion to the Foot of the Andes—Structure of the
land—Ascend the Bell of Quillota—Shattered masses of greenstone—Immense
valleys—Mines—State of miners—Santiago—Hot-baths of
Cauquenes—Gold-mines—Grinding-mills—Perforated stones—Habits of the
Puma—El Turco and Tapacolo—Humming-birds.
CENTRAL CHILE
_July_ 23_rd._—The _Beagle_ anchored late at night in the bay of
Valparaiso, the chief seaport of Chile. When morning came, everything
appeared delightful. After Tierra del Fuego, the climate felt quite
delicious—the atmosphere so dry, and the heavens so clear and blue with
the sun shining brightly, that all nature seemed sparkling with life.
The view from the anchorage is very pretty. The town is built at the
very foot of a range of hills, about 1600 feet high, and rather steep.
From its position, it consists of one long, straggling street, which
runs parallel to the beach, and wherever a ravine comes down, the
houses are piled up on each side of it. The rounded hills, being only
partially protected by a very scanty vegetation, are worn into
numberless little gullies, which expose a singularly bright red soil.
From this cause, and from the low whitewashed houses with tile roofs,
the view reminded me of St. Cruz in Teneriffe. In a north-easterly
direction there are some fine glimpses of the Andes: but these
mountains appear much grander when viewed from the neighbouring hills:
the great distance at which they are situated can then more readily be
perceived. The volcano of Aconcagua is particularly magnificent. This
huge and irregularly conical mass has an elevation greater than that of
Chimborazo; for, from measurements made by the officers in the
_Beagle_, its height is no less than 23,000 feet. The Cordillera,
however, viewed from this point, owe the greater part of their beauty
to the atmosphere through which they are seen. When the sun was setting
in the Pacific, it was admirable to watch how clearly their rugged
outlines could be distinguished, yet how varied and how delicate were
the shades of their colour.
I had the good fortune to find living here Mr. Richard Corfield, an old
schoolfellow and friend, to whose hospitality and kindness I was
greatly indebted, in having afforded me a most pleasant residence
during the _Beagle’s_ stay in Chile. The immediate neighbourhood of
Valparaiso is not very productive to the naturalist. During the long
summer the wind blows steadily from the southward, and a little off
shore, so that rain never falls; during the three winter months,
however, it is sufficiently abundant. The vegetation in consequence is
very scanty: except in some deep valleys there are no trees, and only a
little grass and a few low bushes are scattered over the less steep
parts of the hills. When we reflect that at the distance of 350 miles
to the south, this side of the Andes is completely hidden by one
impenetrable forest, the contrast is very remarkable. I took several
long walks while collecting objects of natural history. The country is
pleasant for exercise. There are many very beautiful flowers; and, as
in most other dry climates, the plants and shrubs possess strong and
peculiar odours—even one’s clothes by brushing through them became
scented. I did not cease from wonder at finding each succeeding day as
fine as the foregoing. What a difference does climate make in the
enjoyment of life! How opposite are the sensations when viewing black
mountains half-enveloped in clouds, and seeing another range through
the light blue haze of a fine day! The one for a time may be very
sublime; the other is all gaiety and happy life.
_August_ 14_th._—I set out on a riding excursion, for the purpose of
geologising the basal parts of the Andes, which alone at this time of
the year are not shut up by the winter snow. Our first day’s ride was
northward along the sea-coast. After dark we reached the Hacienda of
Quintero, the estate which formerly belonged to Lord Cochrane. My
object in coming here was to see the great beds of shells which stand
some yards above the level of the sea, and are burnt for lime. The
proofs of the elevation of this whole line of coast are unequivocal: at
the height of a few hundred feet old-looking shells are numerous, and I
found some at 1300 feet. These shells either lie loose on the surface,
or are embedded in a reddish-black vegetable mould. I was much
surprised to find under the microscope that this vegetable mould is
really marine mud, full of minute particles of organic bodies.
15_th._—We returned towards the valley of Quillota. The country was
exceedingly pleasant; just such as poets would call pastoral: green
open lawns, separated by small valleys with rivulets, and the cottages,
we may suppose of the shepherds, scattered on the hill-sides. We were
obliged to cross the ridge of the Chilicauquen. At its base there were
many fine evergreen forest-trees, but these flourished only in the
ravines, where there was running water. Any person who had seen only
the country near Valparaiso would never have imagined that there had
been such picturesque spots in Chile. As soon as we reached the brow of
the Sierra, the valley of Quillota was immediately under our feet. The
prospect was one of remarkable artificial luxuriance. The valley is
very broad and quite flat, and is thus easily irrigated in all parts.
The little square gardens are crowded with orange and olive trees and
every sort of vegetable. On each side huge bare mountains rise, and
this from the contrast renders the patchwork valley the more pleasing.
Whoever called “Valparaiso” the “Valley of
Paradise,” must have been thinking of Quillota. We crossed over to the
Hacienda de San Isidro, situated at the very foot of the Bell Mountain.
Hacienda, condor, cactus, etc.
Chile, as may be seen in the maps, is a narrow strip of land between
the Cordillera and the Pacific; and this strip is itself traversed by
several mountain-lines, which in this part run parallel to the great
range. Between these outer lines and the main Cordillera, a succession
of level basins, generally opening into each other by narrow passages,
extend far to the southward: in these, the principal towns are
situated, as San Felipe, Santiago, San Fernando. These basins or
plains, together with the transverse flat valleys (like that of
Quillota) which connect them with the coast, I have no doubt are the
bottoms of ancient inlets and deep bays, such as at the present day
intersect every part of Tierra del Fuego and the western coast. Chile
must formerly have resembled the latter country in the configuration of
its land and water. The resemblance was occasionally shown strikingly
when a level fog-bank covered, as with a mantle, all the lower parts of
the country: the white vapour curling into the ravines, beautifully
represented
little coves and bays; and here and there a solitary hillock peeping up
showed that it had formerly stood there as an islet. The contrast of
these flat valleys and basins with the irregular mountains gave the
scenery a character which to me was new and very interesting.
From the natural slope to seaward of these plains, they are very easily
irrigated, and in consequence singularly fertile. Without this process
the land would produce scarcely anything, for during the whole summer
the sky is cloudless. The mountains and hills are dotted over with
bushes and low trees, and excepting these the vegetation is very
scanty. Each landowner in the valley possesses a certain portion of
hill-country, where his half-wild cattle, in considerable numbers,
manage to find sufficient pasture. Once every year there is a grand
“rodeo,” when all the cattle are driven down, counted, and marked, and
a certain number separated to be fattened in the irrigated fields.
Wheat is extensively cultivated, and a good deal of Indian corn: a kind
of bean is, however, the staple article of food for the common
labourers. The orchards produce an overflowing abundance of peaches,
figs, and grapes. With all these advantages the inhabitants of the
country ought to be much more prosperous than they are.
16_th._—The mayor-domo of the Hacienda was good enough to give me a
guide and fresh horses; and in the morning we set out to ascend the
Campana, or Bell Mountain, which is 6400 feet high. The paths were very
bad, but both the geology and scenery amply repaid the trouble. We
reached, by the evening, a spring called the Agua del Guanaco, which is
situated at a great height. This must be an old name, for it is very
many years since a guanaco drank its waters. During the ascent I
noticed that nothing but bushes grew on the northern slope, whilst on
the southern slope there was a bamboo about fifteen feet high. In a few
places there were palms, and I was surprised to see one at an elevation
of at least 4500 feet. These palms are, for their family, ugly trees.
Their stem is very large, and of a curious form, being thicker in the
middle than at the base or top. They are excessively numerous in some
parts of Chile, and valuable on account of a sort of treacle made from
the sap. On one estate near Petorca they tried to count them, but
failed, after having numbered several
hundred thousand. Every year in the early spring, in August, very many
are cut down, and when the trunk is lying on the ground, the crown of
leaves is lopped off. The sap then immediately begins to flow from the
upper end, and continues so doing for some months: it is, however,
necessary that a thin slice should be shaved off from that end every
morning, so as to expose a fresh surface. A good tree will give ninety
gallons, and all this must have been contained in the vessels of the
apparently dry trunk. It is said that the sap flows much more quickly
on those days when the sun is powerful; and likewise, that it is
absolutely necessary to take care, in cutting down the tree, that it
should fall with its head upwards on the side of the hill; for if it
falls down the slope, scarcely any sap will flow; although in that case
one would have thought that the action would have been aided, instead
of checked, by the force of gravity. The sap is concentrated by
boiling, and is then called treacle, which it very much resembles in
taste.
We unsaddled our horses near the spring, and prepared to pass the
night. The evening was fine, and the atmosphere so clear that the masts
of the 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 discovered 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 arbour of bamboos, fried our
charqui (or dried slips of beef), took our maté, and were quite
comfortable. There is an inexpressible charm in thus 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.
_August_ 17_th._—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, whilst 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 have supplied 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 civilised 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
landowners 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, although he may be a
cutthroat, 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
labourer 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 upwards 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.
_August_ 18_th._—We descended the mountain, and passed some beautiful
little spots, with rivulets and fine trees. Having slept at the same
hacienda as before, we rode during the two succeeding days up the
valley, and passed through Quillota, which is more like a collection of
nursery-gardens than a town. The orchards were beautiful, presenting
one mass of peach-blossoms. I saw, also, in one or two places the
date-palm; it is a most stately tree; and I should think a group of
them in their native Asiatic or African deserts must be superb. We
passed likewise San Felipe, a pretty straggling town like Quillota. The
valley in this part expands into one of those great bays or plains,
reaching to the foot of the Cordillera, which have been mentioned as
forming so curious a part of the scenery of Chile. In the evening we
reached the mines of Jajuel, situated in a ravine at the flank of the
great chain. I stayed here five days. My host, the superintendent of
the mine, was a shrewd but rather ignorant Cornish miner. He had
married a Spanish woman, and did not mean to return home; but his
admiration for the mines of Cornwall remained unbounded. Amongst many
other questions, he asked me, “Now that George Rex is dead, how many
more of the family of Rexes are yet alive?” This Rex certainly must be
a relation of the great author Finis, who wrote all books!
These mines are of copper, and the ore is all shipped to Swansea, to be
smelted. Hence the mines have an aspect singularly quiet, as compared
to those in England: here no smoke, furnaces, or great steam-engines,
disturb the solitude of the surrounding mountains.
The Chilian government, or rather the old Spanish law, encourages by
every method the searching for mines. The discoverer may work a mine on
any ground, by paying five shillings; and before paying this he may
try, even in the garden of another man, for twenty days.
[Illustration]
It is now well known that the Chilian method of mining is the cheapest.
My host says that the two principal
improvements introduced by foreigners have been, first, reducing by
previous roasting the copper pyrites—which, being the common ore in
Cornwall, the English miners were astounded on their arrival to find
thrown away as useless: secondly, stamping and washing the scoriæ from
the old furnaces—by which process particles of metal are recovered in
abundance. I have actually seen mules carrying to the coast, for
transportation to England, a cargo of such cinders. But the first case
is much the most curious. The Chilian miners were so convinced that
copper pyrites contained not a particle of copper, that they laughed at
the Englishmen for their ignorance, who laughed in turn, and bought
their richest veins for a few dollars. It is very odd that, in a
country where mining had been extensively carried on for many years, so
simple a process as gently roasting the ore to expel the sulphur
previous to smelting it, had never been discovered. A few improvements
have likewise been introduced in some of the simple machinery; but even
to the present day, water is removed from some mines by men carrying it
up the shaft in leathern bags!
The labouring men work very hard. They have little time allowed for
their meals, and during summer and winter they begin when it is light,
and leave off at dark. They are paid one pound sterling a month, and
their food is given them: this for breakfast consists of sixteen figs
and two small loaves of bread; for dinner, boiled beans; for supper,
broken roasted wheat grain. They scarcely ever taste meat; as, with the
twelve pounds per annum, they have to clothe themselves and support
their families. The miners who work in the mine itself have twenty-five
shillings per month, and are allowed
a little charqui. But these men come down from their bleak habitations
only once in every fortnight or three weeks.
Cactus; Cereus Peruviana
During my stay here I thoroughly enjoyed scrambling about these huge
mountains. The geology, as might have been expected, was very
interesting. The shattered and baked rocks, traversed by innumerable
dikes of greenstone, showed what commotions had formerly taken place.
The scenery was much the same as that near the Bell of Quillota—dry
barren mountains, dotted at intervals by bushes with a scanty foliage.
The cactuses, or rather opuntias, were here very numerous. I measured
one of a spherical figure, which, including the spines, was six feet
and four inches in circumference. The height of the common cylindrical,
branching kind, is from twelve to fifteen feet, and the girth (with
spines) of the branches between three and four feet.
A heavy fall of snow on the mountains prevented me, during the last two
days, from making some interesting excursions. I attempted to reach a
lake which the inhabitants, from some
unaccountable reason, believe to be an arm of the sea. During a very
dry season, it was proposed to attempt cutting a channel from it for
the sake of the water, but the padre, after a consultation, declared it
was too dangerous, as all Chile would be inundated, if, as generally
supposed, the lake was connected with the Pacific. We ascended to a
great height, but becoming involved in the snow-drifts failed in
reaching this wonderful lake, and had some difficulty in returning. I
thought we should have lost our horses; for there was no means of
guessing how deep the drifts were, and the animals, when led, could
only move by jumping. The black sky showed that a fresh snowstorm was
gathering, and we therefore were not a little glad when we escaped. By
the time we reached the base the storm commenced, and it was lucky for
us that this did not happen three hours earlier in the day.
_August_ 26_th._—We left Jajuel and again crossed the basin of San
Felipe. The day was truly Chilian: glaringly bright, and the atmosphere
quite clear. The thick and uniform covering of newly-fallen snow
rendered the view of the volcano of Aconcagua and the main chain quite
glorious. We were now on the road to Santiago, the capital of Chile. We
crossed the Cerro del Talguen, and slept at a little rancho. The host,
talking about the state of Chile as compared to other countries, was
very humble: “Some see with two eyes, and some with one, but for my
part I do not think that Chile sees with any.”
_August_ 27_th._—After crossing many low hills we descended into the
small land-locked plain of Guitron. In the basins, such as this one,
which are elevated from one thousand to two thousand feet above the
sea, two species of acacia, which are stunted in their forms, and stand
wide apart from each other, grow in large numbers. These trees are
never found near the sea-coast; and this gives another characteristic
feature to the scenery of these basins. We crossed a low ridge which
separates Guitron from the great plain on which Santiago stands. The
view was here pre-eminently striking: the dead level surface, covered
in parts by woods of acacia, and with the city in the distance,
abutting horizontally against the base of the Andes,
whose snowy peaks were bright with the evening sun. At the first glance
of this view, it was quite evident that the plain represented the
extent of a former inland sea. As soon as we gained the level road we
pushed our horses into a gallop, and reached the city before it was
dark.
I stayed a week in Santiago and enjoyed myself very much. In the
morning I rode to various places on the plain, and in the evening dined
with several of the English merchants, whose hospitality at this place
is well known. A never-failing source of pleasure was to ascend the
little hillock of rock (St. Lucia) which projects in the middle of the
city. The scenery certainly is most striking, and, as I have said, very
peculiar. I am informed that this same character is common to the
cities on the great Mexican platform. Of the town I have nothing to say
in detail: it is not so fine or so large as Buenos Ayres, but is built
after the same model. I arrived here by a circuit to the north; so I
resolved to return to Valparaiso by a rather longer excursion to the
south of the direct road.
_September_ 5_th._—By the middle of the day we arrived at one of the
suspension bridges made of hide, which cross the Maypu, a large
turbulent river a few leagues southward of Santiago. These bridges are
very poor affairs. The road, following the curvature of the suspending
ropes, is made of bundles of sticks placed close together. It was full
of holes, and oscillated rather fearfully, even with the weight of a
man leading his horse. In the evening we reached a comfortable
farm-house, where there were several very pretty señoritas. They were
much horrified at my having entered one of their churches out of mere
curiosity. They asked me, “Why do you not become a Christian—for our
religion is certain?” I assured them I was a sort of Christian; but
they would not hear of it—appealing to my own words, “Do not your
padres, your very bishops, marry?” The absurdity of a bishop having a
wife particularly struck them: they scarcely knew whether to be most
amused or horror-struck at such an enormity.
6_th._—We proceeded due south, and slept at Rancagua. The road passed
over the level but narrow plain, bounded on
one side by lofty hills, and on the other by the Cordillera. The next
day we turned up the valley of the Rio Cachapual, in which the
hot-baths of Cauquenes, long celebrated for their medicinal properties,
are situated. The suspension bridges, in the less frequented parts, are
generally taken down during the winter when the rivers are low. Such
was the case in this valley, and we were therefore obliged to cross the
stream on horseback. This is rather disagreeable, for the foaming
water, though not deep, rushes so quickly over the bed of large rounded
stones, that one’s head becomes quite confused, and it is difficult
even to perceive whether the horse is moving onward or standing still.
In summer, when the snow melts, the torrents are quite impassable;
their strength and fury are then extremely great, as might be plainly
seen by the marks which they had left. We reached the baths in the
evening, and stayed there five days, being confined the two last by
heavy rain. The buildings consist of a square of miserable little
hovels, each with a single table and bench. They are situated in a
narrow deep valley just without the central Cordillera. It is a quiet,
solitary spot, with a good deal of wild beauty.
The mineral springs of Cauquenes burst forth on a line of dislocation,
crossing a mass of stratified rock, the whole of which betrays the
action of heat. A considerable quantity of gas is continually escaping
from the same orifices with the water. Though the springs are only a
few yards apart, they have very different temperatures; and this
appears to be the result of an unequal mixture of cold water: for those
with the lowest temperature have scarcely any mineral taste. After the
great earthquake of 1822 the springs ceased, and the water did not
return for nearly a year. They were also much affected by the
earthquake of 1835; the temperature being suddenly changed from 118° to
92°.[1] It seems probable that mineral waters rising deep from the
bowels of the earth would always be more deranged by subterranean
disturbances than those nearer the surface. The man who had charge of
the baths assured me that in summer the water is hotter and more
plentiful than in winter. The former circumstance I should have
expected, from the less mixture, during the dry season, of cold water;
but the latter statement appears very strange and contradictory. The
periodical increase during the summer, when rain never falls, can, I
think, only be accounted for by the melting of the snow: yet the
mountains which are covered by snow during that season are three or
four leagues distant from the springs. I have no reason to doubt the
accuracy of my informer, who, having lived on the spot for several
years, ought to be well acquainted with the circumstance,—which, if
true, certainly is very curious: for we must suppose that the
snow-water, being conducted through porous strata to the regions of
heat, is again thrown up to the surface by the line of dislocated and
injected rocks at Cauquenes; and the regularity of the phenomenon would
seem to indicate that in this district heated rock occurred at a depth
not very great.
[1] Caldcleugh, in _Philosoph. Transact._ for 1836.
One day I rode up the valley to the farthest inhabited spot. Shortly
above that point, the Cachapual divides into two deep tremendous
ravines, which penetrate directly into the great range. I scrambled up
a peaked mountain, probably more than six thousand feet high. Here, as
indeed everywhere else, scenes of the highest interest presented
themselves. It was by one of these ravines that Pincheira entered Chile
and ravaged the neighbouring country. This is the same man whose attack
on an estancia at the Rio Negro I have described. He was a renegade
half-caste Spaniard, who collected a great body of Indians together and
established himself by a stream in the Pampas, which place none of the
forces sent after him could ever discover. From this point he used to
sally forth, and crossing the Cordillera by passes hitherto
unattempted, he ravaged the farm-houses and drove the cattle to his
secret rendezvous. Pincheira was a capital horseman, and he made all
around him equally good, for he invariably shot any one who hesitated
to follow him. It was against this man, and other wandering Indian
tribes, that Rosas waged the war of extermination.
Cordilleras from Santiago de Chile
_September_ 13_th._—We left the baths of Cauquenes, and, rejoining the
main road, slept at the Rio Claro. From this place we rode to the town
of San Fernando. Before arriving there, the last land-locked basin had
expanded into a great plain, which extended so far to the south that
the snowy summits of the more distant Andes were seen as if above the
horizon of the sea. San Fernando is forty leagues from Santiago; and it
was my
farthest point southward; for we here turned at right angles towards
the coast. We slept at the gold-mines of Yaquil, which are worked by
Mr. Nixon, an American gentleman, to whose kindness I was much indebted
during the four days I stayed at his house. The next morning we rode to
the mines, which are situated at the distance of some leagues, near the
summit of a lofty hill. On the way we had a glimpse of the lake
Tagua-tagua, celebrated for its floating islands, which have been
described by M. Gay.[2] They are composed of the stalks of various dead
plants intertwined together, and on the surface of which other living
ones take root. Their form is generally circular, and their thickness
from four to six feet, of which the greater part is immersed in the
water. As the wind blows, they pass from one side of the lake to the
other, and often carry cattle and horses as passengers.
[2] _Annales des Sciences Naturelles_, March, 1833. M. Gay, a zealous
and able naturalist, was then occupied in studying every branch of
natural history throughout the kingdom of Chile.
When we arrived at the mine, I was struck by the pale appearance of
many of the men, and inquired from Mr. Nixon respecting their
condition. The mine is 450 feet deep, and each man brings up about 200
pounds weight of stone. With this load they have to climb up the
alternate notches cut in the trunks of trees, placed in a zigzag line
up the shaft. Even beardless young men, eighteen and twenty years old,
with little muscular development of their bodies (they are quite naked
excepting drawers) ascend with this great load from nearly the same
depth. A strong man, who is not accustomed to this labour, perspires
most profusely, with merely carrying up his own body. With this very
severe labour, they live entirely on boiled beans and bread. They would
prefer having bread alone; but their masters, finding that they cannot
work so hard upon this, treat them like horses, and make them eat the
beans. Their pay is here rather more than at the mines of Jajuel, being
from 24 to 28 shillings per month. They leave the mine only once in
three weeks; when they stay with their families for two days. One of
the rules of this mine sounds very harsh, but answers pretty well for
the master. The only method of stealing gold is to secrete pieces of
the ore, and take them out as occasion may offer. Whenever the
major-domo
finds a lump thus hidden, its full value is stopped out of the wages of
all the men; who thus, without they all combine, are obliged to keep
watch over each other.
When the ore is brought to the mill, it is ground into an impalpable
powder; the process of washing removes all the lighter particles, and
amalgamation finally secures the gold-dust. The washing, when
described, sounds a very simple process; but it is beautiful to see how
the exact adaptation of the current of water to the specific gravity of
the gold so easily separates the powdered matrix from the metal. The
mud which passes from the mills is collected into pools, where it
subsides, and every now and then is cleared out, and thrown into a
common heap. A great deal of chemical action then commences, salts of
various kinds effloresce on the surface, and the mass becomes hard.
After having been left for a year or two, and then rewashed, it yields
gold; and this process may be repeated even six or seven times; but the
gold each time becomes less in quantity, and the intervals required (as
the inhabitants say, to generate the metal) are longer. There can be no
doubt that the chemical action, already mentioned, each time liberates
fresh gold from some combination. The discovery of a method to effect
this before the first grinding would without doubt raise the value of
gold-ores many fold. It is curious to find how the minute particles of
gold, being scattered about and not corroding, at last accumulate in
some quantity. A short time since a few miners, being out of work,
obtained permission to scrape the ground round the house and mill; they
washed the earth thus got together, and so procured thirty dollars
worth of gold. This is an exact counterpart of what takes place in
nature. Mountains suffer degradation and wear away, and with them the
metallic veins which they contain. The hardest rock is worn into
impalpable mud, the ordinary metals oxidate, and both are removed; but
gold, platina, and a few others are nearly indestructible, and from
their weight, sinking to the bottom, are left behind. After whole
mountains have passed through this grinding mill, and have been washed
by the hand of nature, the residue becomes metalliferous, and man finds
it worth his while to complete the task of separation.
Bad as the above treatment of the miners appears, it is
gladly accepted of by them; for the condition of the labouring
agriculturists is much worse. Their wages are lower, and they live
almost exclusively on beans. This poverty must be chiefly owing to the
feudal-like system on which the land is tilled: the landowner gives a
small plot of ground to the labourer, for building on and cultivating,
and in return has his services (or those of a proxy) for every day of
his life, without any wages. Until a father has a grown-up son, who can
by his labour pay the rent, there is no one, except on occasional days,
to take care of his own patch of ground. Hence extreme poverty is very
common among the labouring classes in this country.
There are some old Indian ruins in this neighbourhood, and I was shown
one of the perforated stones, which Molina mentions as being found in
many places in considerable numbers. They are of a circular flattened
form, from five to six inches in diameter, with a hole passing quite
through the centre. It has generally been supposed that they were used
as heads to clubs, although their form does not appear at all well
adapted for that purpose. Burchell[3] states that some of the tribes in
Southern Africa dig up roots by the aid of a stick pointed at one end,
the force and weight of which are increased by a round stone with a
hole in it, into which the other end is firmly wedged. It appears
probable that the Indians of Chile formerly used some such rude
agricultural instrument.
[3] Burchell’s _Travels_, vol. ii, p. 45.
One day, a German collector in natural history, of the name of Renous,
called, and nearly at the same time an old Spanish lawyer. I was amused
at being told the conversation which took place between them. Renous
speaks Spanish so well that the old lawyer mistook him for a Chilian.
Renous alluding to me, asked him what he thought of the King of England
sending out a collector to their country, to pick up lizards and
beetles, and to break stones? The old gentleman thought seriously for
some time, and then said, “It is not well,—_hay un gato encerrado aqui_
(there is a cat shut up here). No man is so rich as to send out people
to pick up such rubbish. I do not like it: if one of us were to go and
do such things in England, do not you think the King of England would
very soon send us out of his country?” And this old gentleman, from
his profession, belongs to the better informed and more intelligent
classes! Renous himself, two or three years before, left in a house at
San Fernando some caterpillars, under charge of a girl to feed, that
they might turn into butterflies. This was rumoured through the town,
and at last the Padres and Governor consulted together, and agreed it
must be some heresy. Accordingly, when Renous returned, he was
arrested.
_September_ 19_th._—We left Yaquil, and followed the flat valley,
formed like that of Quillota, in which the Rio Tinderidica flows. Even
at these few miles south of Santiago the climate is much damper; in
consequence there were fine tracts of pasturage which were not
irrigated. (_20th._) We followed this valley till it expanded into a
great plain, which reaches from the sea to the mountains west of
Rancagua. We shortly lost all trees and even bushes; so that the
inhabitants are nearly as badly off for firewood as those in the
Pampas. Never having heard of these plains, I was much surprised at
meeting with such scenery in Chile. The plains belong to more than one
series of different elevations, and they are traversed by broad
flat-bottomed valleys; both of which circumstances, as in Patagonia,
bespeak the action of the sea on gently rising land. In the steep
cliffs bordering these valleys there are some large caves, which no
doubt were originally formed by the waves: one of these is celebrated
under the name of Cueva del Obispo; having formerly been consecrated.
During the day I felt very unwell, and from that time till the end of
October did not recover.
_September_ 22_nd._—We continued to pass over green plains without a
tree. The next day we arrived at a house near Navedad, on the
sea-coast, where a rich Haciendero gave us lodgings. I stayed here the
two ensuing days, and although very unwell, managed to collect from the
tertiary formation some marine shells.
24_th._—Our course was now directed towards Valparaiso, which with
great difficulty I reached on the 27th, and was there confined to my
bed till the end of October. During this
time I was an inmate in Mr. Corfield’s house, whose kindness to me I do
not know how to express.
I will here add a few observations on some of the animals and birds of
Chile. The Puma, or South American Lion, is not uncommon. This animal
has a wide geographical range; being found from the equatorial forests,
throughout the deserts of Patagonia, as far south as the damp and cold
latitudes (53° to 54°) of Tierra del Fuego. I have seen its footsteps
in the Cordillera of central Chile, at an elevation of at least 10,000
feet. In La Plata the puma preys chiefly on deer, ostriches, bizcacha,
and other small quadrupeds; it there seldom attacks cattle or horses,
and most rarely man. In Chile, however, it destroys many young horses
and cattle, owing probably to the scarcity of other quadrupeds: I
heard, likewise, of two men and a woman who had been thus killed. It is
asserted that the puma always kills its prey by springing on the
shoulders, and then drawing back the head with one of its paws, until
the vertebræ break: I have seen in Patagonia the skeletons of guanacos,
with their necks thus dislocated.
The puma, after eating its fill, covers the carcass with many large
bushes, and lies down to watch it. This habit is often the cause of its
being discovered; for the condors wheeling in the air, every now and
then descend to partake of the feast, and being angrily driven away,
rise all together on the wing. The Chileno Guaso then knows there is a
lion watching his prey—the word is given—and men and dogs hurry to the
chase. Sir F. Head says that a Gaucho in the Pampas, upon merely seeing
some condors wheeling in the air, cried “A lion!” I could never myself
meet with any one who pretended to such powers of discrimination. It is
asserted that if a puma has once been betrayed by thus watching the
carcass, and has then been hunted, it never resumes this habit; but
that having gorged itself, it wanders far away. The puma is easily
killed. In an open country it is first entangled with the bolas, then
lazoed, and dragged along the ground till rendered insensible. At
Tandeel (south of the Plata), I was told that within three months one
hundred were thus destroyed. In Chile they are generally driven up
bushes or trees, and are then either shot, or baited to death by dogs.
The dogs employed in this chase
belong to a particular breed, called Leoneros: they are weak, slight
animals, like long-legged terriers, but are born with a particular
instinct for this sport. The puma is described as being very crafty:
when pursued, it often returns on its former track, and then suddenly
making a spring on one side, waits there till the dogs have passed by.
It is a very silent animal, uttering no cry even when wounded, and only
rarely during the breeding season.
Of birds, two species of the genus Pteroptochos (megapodius and
albicollis of Kittlitz) are perhaps the most conspicuous. The former,
called by the Chilenos “el Turco,” is as large as a fieldfare, to which
bird it has some alliance; but its legs are much longer, tail shorter,
and beak stronger: its colour is a reddish brown. The Turco is not
uncommon. It lives on the ground, sheltered among the thickets which
are scattered over the dry and sterile hills. With its tail erect, and
stilt-like legs, it may be seen every now and then popping from one
bush to another with uncommon quickness. It really requires little
imagination to believe that the bird is ashamed of itself, and is aware
of its most ridiculous figure. On first seeing it, one is tempted to
exclaim, “A vilely stuffed specimen has escaped from some museum, and
has come to life again!” It cannot be made to take flight without the
greatest trouble, nor does it run, but only hops. The various loud
cries which it utters when concealed amongst the bushes are as strange
as its appearance. It is said to build its nest in a deep hole beneath
the ground. I dissected several specimens: the gizzard, which was very
muscular, contained beetles, vegetable fibres, and pebbles. From this
character, from the length of its legs, scratching feet, membranous
covering to the nostrils, short and arched wings, this bird seems in a
certain degree to connect the thrushes with the gallinaceous order.
The second species (or P. albicollis) is allied to the first in its
general form. It is called Tapacolo, or “cover your posterior;” and
well does the shameless little bird deserve its name; for it carries
its tail more than erect, that is, inclined backwards towards its head.
It is very common, and frequents the bottoms of hedgerows, and the
bushes scattered over the barren hills, where scarcely another bird can
exist. In its general manner of feeding, of quickly hopping out of the
thickets
and back again, in its desire of concealment, unwillingness to take
flight, and nidification, it bears a close resemblance to the Turco;
but its appearance is not quite so ridiculous. The Tapacolo is very
crafty: when frightened by any person, it will remain motionless at the
bottom of a bush, and will then, after a little while, try with much
address to crawl away on the opposite side. It is also an active bird,
and continually making a noise: these noises are various and strangely
odd; some are like the cooing of doves, others like the bubbling of
water, and many defy all similes. The country people say it changes its
cry five times in the year—according to some change of season, I
suppose.[4]
[4] It is a remarkable fact that Molina, though describing in detail
all the birds and animals of Chile, never once mentions this genus,
the species of which are so common, and so remarkable in their habits.
Was he at a loss how to classify them, and did he consequently think
that silence was the more prudent course? It is one more instance of
the frequency of omissions by authors on those very subjects where it
might have been least expected.
Two species of humming-birds are common; Trochilus forficatus is found
over a space of 2500 miles on the west coast, from the hot dry country
of Lima to the forests of Tierra del Fuego—where it may be seen
flitting about in snow-storms. In the wooded island of Chiloe, which
has an extremely humid climate, this little bird, skipping from side to
side amidst the dripping foliage, is perhaps more abundant than almost
any other kind. I opened the stomachs of several specimens, shot in
different parts of the continent, and in all, remains of insects were
as numerous as in the stomach of a creeper. When this species migrates
in the summer southward, it is replaced by the arrival of another
species coming from the north. This second kind (Trochilus gigas) is a
very large bird for the delicate family to which it belongs: when on
the wing its appearance is singular. Like others of the genus, it moves
from place to place with a rapidity which may be compared to that of
Syrphus amongst flies, and Sphinx among moths; but whilst hovering over
a flower, it flaps its wings with a very slow and powerful movement,
totally different from that vibratory one common to most of the
species, which produces the humming noise. I never saw any other bird
where the force of its wings appeared (as in a butterfly) so powerful
in proportion to the weight of its body. When hovering by a flower, its
tail is constantly expanded and shut like a fan, the
body being kept in a nearly vertical position. This action appears to
steady and support the bird, between the slow movements of its wings.
Although flying from flower to flower in search of food, its stomach
generally contained abundant remains of insects, which I suspect are
much more the object of its search than honey. The note of this
species, like that of nearly the whole family, is extremely shrill.
[Illustration: Chilian spurs, stirrup, etc.]
[Illustration: Old Church, Castro, Chiloe]
Chapter XIII
Chiloe—General Aspect—Boat excursion—Native Indians—Castro—Tame
fox—Ascend San Pedro—Chonos Archipelago—Peninsula of Tres
Montes—Granitic range—Boat-wrecked sailors—Low’s Harbour—Wild
potato—Formation of peat—Myopotamus, otter and mice—Cheucau and
Barking-bird—Opetiorhynchus—Singular character of ornithology—Petrels.
CHILOE AND CHONOS ISLANDS
_November_ 10_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed from Valparaiso to the south,
for the purpose of surveying the southern part of Chile, the island of
Chiloe, and the broken land called the Chonos Archipelago, as far south
as the Peninsula of Tres Montes. On the 21st we anchored in the bay of
S. Carlos, the capital of Chiloe.
This island is about ninety miles long, with a breadth of rather less
than thirty. The land is hilly, but not mountainous, and is covered by
one great forest, except where a few green patches have been cleared
round the thatched cottages. From
a distance the view somewhat resembles that of Tierra del Fuego; but
the woods, when seen nearer, are incomparably more beautiful. Many
kinds of fine evergreen trees, and plants with a tropical character,
here take the place of the gloomy beech of the southern shores. In
winter the climate is detestable, and in summer it is only a little
better. I should think there are few parts of the world, within the
temperate regions, where so much rain falls. The winds are very
boisterous, and the sky almost always clouded: to have a week of fine
weather is something wonderful. It is even difficult to get a single
glimpse of the Cordillera: during our first visit, once only the
volcano of Osorno stood out in bold relief, and that was before
sunrise; it was curious to watch, as the sun rose, the outline
gradually fading away in the glare of the eastern sky.
The inhabitants, from their complexion and low stature, appear to have
three-fourths of Indian blood in their veins. They are an humble,
quiet, industrious set of men. Although the fertile soil, resulting
from the decomposition of the volcanic rocks, supports a rank
vegetation, yet the climate is not favourable to any production which
requires much sunshine to ripen it. There is very little pasture for
the larger quadrupeds; and in consequence, the staple articles of food
are pigs, potatoes, and fish. The people all dress in strong woollen
garments, which each family makes for itself, and dyes with indigo of a
dark blue colour. The arts, however, are in the rudest state;—as may be
seen in their strange fashion of ploughing, their method of spinning,
grinding corn, and in the construction of their boats. The forests are
so impenetrable that the land is nowhere cultivated except near the
coast and on the adjoining islets. Even where paths exist, they are
scarcely passable from the soft and swampy state of the soil. The
inhabitants, like those of Tierra del Fuego, move about chiefly on the
beach or in boats. Although with plenty to eat, the people are very
poor: there is no demand for labour, and consequently the lower orders
cannot scrape together money sufficient to purchase even the smallest
luxuries. There is also a great deficiency of a circulating medium. I
have seen a man bringing on his back a bag of charcoal, with which to
buy some trifle, and another carrying a plank to exchange for a bottle
of wine. Hence every tradesman must also be
a merchant, and again sell the goods which he takes in exchange.
_November_ 24_th._—The yawl and whale-boat were sent under the command
of Mr. (now Captain) Sulivan to survey the eastern or inland coast of
Chiloe; and with orders to meet the _ Beagle_ at the southern extremity
of the island; to which point she would proceed by the outside, so as
thus to circumnavigate the whole. I accompanied this expedition, but
instead of going in the boats the first day, I hired horses to take me
to Chacao, at the northern extremity of the island. The road followed
the coast; every now and then crossing promontories covered by fine
forests. In these shaded paths it is absolutely necessary that the
whole road should be made of logs of wood, which are squared and placed
by the side of each other. From the rays of the sun never penetrating
the evergreen foliage, the ground is so damp and soft, that except by
this means neither man nor horse would be able to pass along. I arrived
at the village of Chacao shortly after the tents belonging to the boats
were pitched for the night.
The land in this neighbourhood has been extensively cleared, and there
were many quiet and most picturesque nooks in the forest. Chacao was
formerly the principal port in the island; but many vessels having been
lost, owing to the dangerous currents and rocks in the straits, the
Spanish government burnt the church, and thus arbitrarily compelled the
greater number of inhabitants to migrate to S. Carlos. We had not long
bivouacked, before the barefooted son of the governor came down to
reconnoitre us. Seeing the English flag hoisted at the yawl’s masthead,
he asked with the utmost indifference, whether it was always to fly at
Chacao. In several places the inhabitants were much astonished at the
appearance of men-of-war’s boats, and hoped and believed it was the
forerunner of a Spanish fleet, coming to recover the island from the
patriot government of Chile. All the men in power, however, had been
informed of our intended visit, and were exceedingly civil. While we
were eating our supper, the governor paid us a visit. He had been a
lieutenant-colonel in the Spanish service, but now was miserably poor.
He gave us two sheep, and accepted in return two cotton handkerchiefs,
some brass trinkets, and a little tobacco.
25_th._—Torrents of rain: we managed, however, to run down the coast as
far as Huapi-lenou. The whole of this eastern side of Chiloe has one
aspect; it is a plain, broken by valleys and divided into little
islands, and the whole thickly covered with one impervious
blackish-green forest. On the margins there are some cleared spaces,
surrounding the high-roofed cottages.
26_th._—The day rose splendidly clear. The volcano of Orsono was
spouting out volumes of smoke. This most beautiful mountain, formed
like a perfect cone, and white with snow, stands out in front of the
Cordillera. Another great volcano, with a saddle-shaped summit, also
emitted from its immense crater little jets of steam. Subsequently we
saw the lofty-peaked Corcovado—well deserving the name of “el famoso
Corcovado.” Thus we beheld, from one point of view, three great active
volcanoes, each about seven thousand feet high. In addition to this,
far to the south there were other lofty cones covered with snow, which,
although not known to be active, must be in their origin volcanic. The
line of the Andes is not, in this neighbourhood, nearly so elevated as
in Chile; neither does it appear to form so perfect a barrier between
the regions of the earth. This great range, although running in a
straight north and south line, owing to an optical deception always
appeared more or less curved; for the lines drawn from each peak to the
beholder’s eye necessarily converged like the radii of a semicircle,
and as it was not possible (owing to the clearness of the atmosphere
and the absence of all intermediate objects) to judge how far distant
the farthest peaks were off, they appeared to stand in a flattish
semicircle.
Landing at midday, we saw a family of pure Indian extraction. The
father was singularly like York Minster; and some of the younger boys,
with their ruddy complexions, might have been mistaken for Pampas
Indians. Everything I have seen convinces me of the close connexion of
the different American tribes, who nevertheless speak distinct
languages. This party could muster but little Spanish, and talked to
each other in their own tongue. It is a pleasant thing to see the
aborigines advanced to the same degree of civilisation, however low
that may be, which their white conquerors have attained.
More to the south we saw many pure Indians: indeed, all the inhabitants
of some of the islets retain their Indian surnames. In the census of
1832 there were in Chiloe and its dependencies forty-two thousand
souls: the greater number of these appear to be of mixed blood. Eleven
thousand retain their Indian surnames, but it is probable that not
nearly all of these are of a pure breed. Their manner of life is the
same with that of the other poor inhabitants, and they are all
Christians; but it is said that they yet retain some strange
superstitious ceremonies, and that they pretend to hold communication
with the devil in certain caves. Formerly, every one convicted of this
offence was sent to the Inquisition at Lima. Many of the inhabitants
who are not included in the eleven thousand with Indian surnames,
cannot be distinguished by their appearance from Indians. Gomez, the
governor of Lemuy, is descended from noblemen of Spain on both sides;
but by constant intermarriages with the natives the present man is an
Indian. On the other hand, the governor of Quinchao boasts much of his
purely kept Spanish blood.
We reached at night a beautiful little cove, north of the island of
Caucahue. The people here complained of want of land. This is partly
owing to their own negligence in not clearing the woods, and partly to
restrictions by the government, which makes it necessary, before buying
ever so small a piece, to pay two shillings to the surveyor for
measuring each quadra (150 yards square), together with whatever price
he fixes for the value of the land. After his valuation the land must
be put up three times to auction, and if no one bids more, the
purchaser can have it at that rate. All these exactions must be a
serious check to clearing the ground, where the inhabitants are so
extremely poor. In most countries, forests are removed without much
difficulty by the aid of fire; but in Chiloe, from the damp nature of
the climate, and the sort of trees, it is necessary first to cut them
down. This is a heavy drawback to the prosperity of Chiloe. In the time
of the Spaniards the Indians could not hold land; and a family, after
having cleared a piece of ground, might be driven away, and the
property seized by the government. The Chilian authorities are now
performing an act of justice by making retribution to these poor
Indians, giving to each
man, according to his grade of life, a certain portion of land. The
value of uncleared ground is very little. The government gave Mr.
Douglas (the present surveyor, who informed me of these circumstances)
eight and a half square miles of forest near S. Carlos, in lieu of a
debt; and this he sold for 350 dollars, or about £70 sterling.
The two succeeding days were fine, and at night we reached the island
of Quinchao. This neighbourhood is the most cultivated part of the
Archipelago; for a broad strip of land on the coast of the main island,
as well as on many of the smaller adjoining ones, is almost completely
cleared. Some of the farmhouses seemed very comfortable. I was curious
to ascertain how rich any of these people might be, but Mr. Douglas
says that no one can be considered as possessing a regular income. One
of the richest landowners might possibly accumulate, in a long
industrious life, as much as £1000 sterling; but should this happen, it
would all be stowed away in some secret corner, for it is the custom of
almost every family to have a jar or treasure-chest buried in the
ground.
_November_ 30_th._—Early on Sunday morning we reached Castro, the
ancient capital of Chiloe, but now a most forlorn and deserted place.
The usual quadrangular arrangement of Spanish towns could be traced,
but the streets and plaza were coated with fine green turf, on which
sheep were browsing. The church, which stands in the middle, is
entirely built of plank, and has a picturesque and venerable
appearance. The poverty of the place may be conceived from the fact,
that although containing some hundreds of inhabitants, one of our party
was unable anywhere to purchase either a pound of sugar or an ordinary
knife. No individual possessed either a watch or a clock; and an old
man who was supposed to have a good idea of time, was employed to
strike the church bell by guess. The arrival of our boats was a rare
event in this quiet retired corner of the world; and nearly all the
inhabitants came down to the beach to see us pitch our tents. They were
very civil, and offered us a house; and one man even sent us a cask of
cider as a present. In the afternoon we paid our respects to the
governor—a quiet old man, who, in his appearance and manner of life,
was scarcely superior to an English cottager. At night heavy rain set
in, which was
hardly sufficient to drive away from our tents the large circle of
lookers on. An Indian family, who had come to trade in a canoe from
Caylen, bivouacked near us. They had no shelter during the rain. In the
morning I asked a young Indian, who was wet to the skin, how he had
passed the night. He seemed perfectly content, and answered, “Muy bien,
señor.”
_December_ 1_st._—We steered for the island of Lemuy. I was anxious to
examine a reported coal-mine which turned out to be lignite of little
value, in the sandstone (probably of an ancient tertiary epoch) of
which these islands are composed. When we reached Lemuy we had much
difficulty in finding any place to pitch our tents, for it was
spring-tide, and the land was wooded down to the water’s edge. In a
short time we were surrounded by a large group of the nearly pure
Indian inhabitants. They were much surprised at our arrival, and said
one to the other, “This is the reason we have seen so many parrots
lately; the cheucau (an odd red-breasted little bird, which inhabits
the thick forest, and utters very peculiar noises) has not cried
‘beware’ for nothing.” They were soon anxious for barter. Money was
scarcely worth anything, but their eagerness for tobacco was something
quite extraordinary. After tobacco, indigo came next in value; then
capsicum, old clothes, and gunpowder. The latter article was required
for a very innocent purpose: each parish has a public musket, and the
gunpowder was wanted for making a noise on their saint or feast days.
The people here live chiefly on shell-fish and potatoes. At certain
seasons they catch also, in “corrales,” or hedges under water, many
fish which are left on the mud-banks as the tide falls. They
occasionally possess fowls, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, and cattle; the
order in which they are here mentioned, expressing their respective
numbers. I never saw anything more obliging and humble than the manners
of these people. They generally began with stating that they were poor
natives of the place, and not Spaniards and that they were in sad want
of tobacco and other comforts. At Caylen, the most southern island, the
sailors bought with a stick of tobacco, of the value of
three-halfpence, two fowls, one of which, the Indian stated, had skin
between its toes, and turned out to
be a fine duck; and with some cotton handkerchiefs, worth three
shillings, three sheep and a large bunch of onions were procured. The
yawl at this place was anchored some way from the shore, and we had
fears for her safety from robbers during the night. Our pilot, Mr.
Douglas, accordingly told the constable of the district that we always
placed sentinels with loaded arms, and not understanding Spanish, if we
saw any person in the dark, we should assuredly shoot him. The
constable, with much humility, agreed to the perfect propriety of this
arrangement, and promised us that no one should stir out of his house
during that night.
During the four succeeding days we continued sailing southward. The
general features of the country remained the same, but it was much less
thickly inhabited. On the large island of Tanqui there was scarcely one
cleared spot, the trees on every side extending their branches over the
sea-beach. I one day noticed, growing on the sandstone cliffs, some
very fine plants of the panke (Gunnera scabra), which somewhat
resembles the rhubarb on a gigantic scale. The inhabitants eat the
stalks, which are subacid, and tan leather with the roots, and prepare
a black dye from them. The leaf is nearly circular, but deeply indented
on its margin. I measured one which was nearly eight feet in diameter,
and therefore no less than twenty-four in circumference! The stalk is
rather more than a yard high, and each plant sends out four or five of
these enormous leaves, presenting together a very noble appearance.
_December_ 6_th._—We reached Caylen, called “el fin del Cristiandad.”
In the morning we stopped for a few minutes at a house on the northern
end of Laylec, which was the extreme point of South American
Christendom, and a miserable hovel it was. The latitude is 43° 10′,
which is two degrees farther south than the Rio Negro on the Atlantic
coast. These extreme Christians were very poor, and, under the plea of
their situation, begged for some tobacco. As a proof of the poverty of
these Indians, I may mention that shortly before this we had met a man,
who had travelled three days and a half on foot, and had as many to
return, for the sake of recovering the value of a small axe and a few
fish. How very difficult it must be to buy the smallest article, when
such trouble is taken to recover so small a debt.
In the evening we reached the island of San Pedro, where we found the
_Beagle_ at anchor. In doubling the point, two of the officers landed
to take a round of angles with the theodolite. A fox (Canis fulvipes),
of a kind said to be peculiar to the island, and very rare in it, and
which is a new species, was sitting on the rocks. He was so intently
absorbed in watching the work of the officers, that I was able, by
quietly walking up behind, to knock him on the head with my geological
hammer. This fox, more curious or more scientific, but less wise, than
the generality of his brethren, is now mounted in the museum of the
Zoological Society.
We stayed three days in this harbour, on one of which Captain Fitz Roy,
with a party, attempted to ascend to the summit of San Pedro. The woods
here had rather a different appearance from those on the northern part
of the island. The rock, also, being micaceous slate, there was no
beach, but the steep sides dipped directly beneath the water. The
general aspect in consequence was more like that of Tierra del Fuego
than of Chiloe. In vain we tried to gain the summit: the forest was so
impenetrable, that no one who has not beheld it can imagine so
entangled a mass of dying and dead trunks. I am sure that often, for
more than ten minutes together, our feet never touched the ground, and
we were frequently ten or fifteen feet above it, so that the seamen as
a joke called out the soundings. At other times we crept one after
another, on our hands and knees, under the rotten trunks. In the lower
part of the mountain, noble trees of the Winter’s Bark, and a laurel
like the sassafras with fragrant leaves, and others, the names of which
I do not know, were matted together by a trailing bamboo or cane. Here
we were more like fishes struggling in a net than any other animal. On
the higher parts, brushwood takes the place of larger trees, with here
and there a red cedar or an alerce pine. I was also pleased to see, at
an elevation of a little less than 1000 feet, our old friend the
southern beech. They were, however, poor stunted trees, and I should
think that this must be nearly their northern limit. We ultimately gave
up the attempt in despair.
_December_ 10_th._—The yawl and whale-boat, with Mr. Sulivan, proceeded
on their survey, but I remained on board the _ Beagle_, which the next
day left San Pedro for the southward. On the
13th we ran into an opening in the southern part of Guayatecas, or the
Chonos Archipelago; and it was fortunate we did so, for on the
following day a storm, worthy of Tierra del Fuego, raged with great
fury. White massive clouds were piled up against a dark blue sky, and
across them black ragged sheets of vapour were rapidly driven. The
successive mountain ranges appeared like dim shadows, and the setting
sun cast on the woodland a yellow gleam, much like that produced by the
flame of spirits of wine. The water was white with the flying spray,
and the wind lulled and roared again through the rigging: it was an
ominous, sublime scene. During a few minutes there was a bright
rainbow, and it was curious to observe the effect of the spray, which,
being carried along the surface of the water, changed the ordinary
semicircle into a circle—a band of prismatic colours being continued,
from both feet of the common arch across the bay, close to the vessel’s
side: thus forming a distorted, but very nearly entire ring.
Inside Chonos Archipelago
We stayed here three days. The weather continued bad; but this did not
much signify, for the surface of the land in all these islands is all
but impassable. The coast is so very rugged that to attempt to walk in
that direction requires
continued scrambling up and down over the sharp rocks of mica-slate;
and as for the woods, our faces, hands, and shin-bones all bore witness
to the maltreatment we received, in merely attempting to penetrate
their forbidden recesses.
_December_ 18_th._—We stood out to sea. On the 20th we bade farewell to
the south, and with a fair wind turned the ship’s head northward. From
Cape Tres Montes we sailed pleasantly along the lofty weather-beaten
coast, which is remarkable for the bold outline of its hills, and the
thick covering of forest even on the almost precipitous flanks. The
next day a harbour was discovered, which on this dangerous coast might
be of great service to a distressed vessel. It can easily be recognised
by a hill 1600 feet high, which is even more perfectly conical than the
famous sugar-loaf at Rio de Janeiro. The next day, after anchoring, I
succeeded in reaching the summit of this hill. It was a laborious
undertaking, for the sides were so steep that in some parts it was
necessary to use the trees as ladders. There were also several
extensive brakes of the Fuchsia, covered with its beautiful drooping
flowers, but very difficult to crawl through. In these wild countries
it gives much delight to gain the summit of any mountain. There is an
indefinite expectation of seeing something very strange, which, however
often it may be balked, never failed with me to recur on each
successive attempt. Every one must know the feeling of triumph and
pride which a grand view from a height communicates to the mind. In
these little frequented countries there is also joined to it some
vanity, that you perhaps are the first man who ever stood on this
pinnacle or admired this view.
A strong desire is always felt to ascertain whether any human being has
previously visited an unfrequented spot. A bit of wood with a nail in
it is picked up and studied as if it were covered with hieroglyphics.
Possessed with this feeling, I was much interested by finding, on a
wild part of the coast, a bed made of grass beneath a ledge of rock.
Close by it there had been a fire, and the man had used an axe. The
fire, bed, and situation showed the dexterity of an Indian; but he
could scarcely have been an Indian, for the race is in this part
extinct, owing to the Catholic desire of making at one blow Christians
and Slaves. I had at the time some misgivings
that the solitary man who had made his bed on this wild spot, must have
been some poor shipwrecked sailor, who, in trying to travel up the
coast, had here laid himself down for his dreary night.
_December_ 28_th._—The weather continued very bad, but it at last
permitted us to proceed with the survey. The time hung heavy on our
hands, as it always did when we were delayed from day to day by
successive gales of wind. In the evening another harbour was
discovered, where we anchored. Directly afterwards a man was seen
waving his shirt, and a boat was sent which brought back two seamen. A
party of six had run away from an American whaling vessel, and had
landed a little to the southward in a boat, which was shortly
afterwards knocked to pieces by the surf. They had now been wandering
up and down the coast for fifteen months, without knowing which way to
go, or where they were. What a singular piece of good fortune it was
that this harbour was now discovered! Had it not been for this one
chance, they might have wandered till they had grown old men, and at
last have perished on this wild coast. Their sufferings had been very
great, and one of their party had lost his life by falling from the
cliffs. They were sometimes obliged to separate in search of food, and
this explained the bed of the solitary man. Considering what they had
undergone, I think they had kept a very good reckoning of time, for
they had lost only four days.
_December_ 30_th._—We anchored in a snug little cove at the foot of
some high hills, near the northern extremity of Tres Montes. After
breakfast the next morning a party ascended one of these mountains,
which was 2400 feet high. The scenery was remarkable. The chief part of
the range was composed of grand, solid, abrupt masses of granite, which
appeared as if they had been coeval with the beginning of the world.
The granite was capped with mica-slate, and this in the lapse of ages
had been worn into strange finger-shaped points. These two formations,
thus differing in their outlines, agree in being almost destitute of
vegetation. This barrenness had to our eyes a strange appearance, from
having been so long accustomed to the sight of an almost universal
forest of dark-green trees. I took much delight in examining the
structure of these mountains. The complicated and lofty ranges bore a
noble aspect of durability—equally profitless, however, to man and to
all other animals. Granite to the geologist is classic ground: from its
widespread limits, and its beautiful and compact texture, few rocks
have been more anciently recognised. Granite has given rise, perhaps,
to more discussion concerning its origin than any other formation. We
generally see it constituting the fundamental rock, and, however
formed, we know it is the deepest layer in the crust of this globe to
which man has penetrated. The limit of man’s knowledge in any subject
possesses a high interest, which is perhaps increased by its close
neighbourhood to the realms of imagination.
_January_ 1_st_, 1835.—The new year is ushered in with the ceremonies
proper to it in these regions. She lays out no false hopes: a heavy
north-western gale, with steady rain, bespeaks the rising year. Thank
God, we are not destined here to see the end of it, but hope then to be
in the Pacific Ocean, where a blue sky tells one there is a heaven,—a
something beyond the clouds above our heads.
The north-west winds prevailing for the next four days, we only managed
to cross a great bay, and then anchored in another secure harbour. I
accompanied the Captain in a boat to the head of a deep creek. On the
way the number of seals which we saw was quite astonishing: every bit
of flat rock and parts of the beach were covered with them. They
appeared to be of a loving disposition, and lay huddled together, fast
asleep, like so many pigs; but even pigs would have been ashamed of
their dirt, and of the foul smell which came from them. Each herd was
watched by the patient but inauspicious eyes of the turkey-buzzard.
This disgusting bird, with its bald scarlet head, formed to wallow in
putridity, is very common on the west coast, and their attendance on
the seals shows on what they rely for their food. We found the water
(probably only that of the surface) nearly fresh: this was caused by
the number of torrents which, in the form of cascades, came tumbling
over the bold granite mountains into the sea. The fresh water attracts
the fish, and these bring many terns, gulls, and two kinds of
cormorant. We saw also a pair of the beautiful black-necked swans, and
several small sea-otters, the fur of which is held in such high
estimation. In returning, we
were again amused by the impetuous manner in which the heap of seals,
old and young, tumbled into the water as the boat passed. They did not
remain long under water, but rising, followed us with outstretched
necks, expressing great wonder and curiosity.
7_th._—Having run up the coast, we anchored near the northern end of
the Chonos Archipelago, in Low’s Harbour, where we remained a week. The
islands were here, as in Chiloe, composed of a stratified, soft,
littoral deposit; and the vegetation in consequence was beautifully
luxuriant. The woods came down to the sea-beach, just in the manner of
an evergreen shrubbery over a gravel walk. We also enjoyed from the
anchorage a splendid view of four great snowy cones of the Cordillera,
including “el famoso Corcovado;” the range itself had in this latitude
so little height, that few parts of it appeared above the tops of the
neighbouring islets. We found here a party of five men from Caylen, “el
fin del Cristiandad,” who had most adventurously crossed in their
miserable boat-canoe, for the purpose of fishing, the open space of sea
which separates Chonos from Chiloe. These islands will, in all
probability, in a short time become peopled like those adjoining the
coast of Chiloe.
The wild potato grows on these islands in great abundance, on the
sandy, shelly soil near the sea-beach. The tallest plant was four feet
in height. The tubers were generally small, but I found one, of an oval
shape, two inches in diameter: they resembled in every respect, and had
the same smell as English potatoes; but when boiled they shrunk much,
and were watery and insipid, without any bitter taste. They are
undoubtedly here indigenous: they grow as far south, according to Mr.
Low, as lat. 50°, and are called Aquinas by the wild Indians of that
part: the Chilotan Indians have a different name for them. Professor
Henslow, who has examined the dried specimens which I brought home,
says that they are the same with those described by Mr. Sabine[1] from
Valparaiso, but that they form a
variety which by some botanists has been considered as specifically
distinct. It is remarkable that the same plant should be found on the
sterile mountains of central Chile, where a drop of rain does not fall
for more than six months, and within the damp forests of these southern
islands.
[1] _Horticultural Transact._ vol. v, p. 249. Mr. Caldeleugh sent home
two tubers, which, being well manured, even the first season produced
numerous potatoes and an abundance of leaves. See Humboldt’s
interesting discussion on this plant, which it appears was unknown in
Mexico,—in _Polit. Essay on New Spain_, book iv, chap. ix.
In the central parts of the Chonos Archipelago (lat. 45°), the forest
has very much the same character with that along the whole west coast,
for 600 miles southward to Cape Horn. The arborescent grass of Chiloe
is not found here; while the beech of Tierra del Fuego grows to a good
size, and forms a considerable proportion of the wood; not, however, in
the same exclusive manner as it does farther southward. Cryptogamic
plants here find a most congenial climate. In the Strait of Magellan,
as I have before remarked, the country appears too cold and wet to
allow of their arriving at perfection; but in these islands, within the
forest, the number of species and great abundance of mosses, lichens,
and small ferns, is quite extraordinary.[2] In Tierra del Fuego trees
grow only on the hillsides; every level piece of land being invariably
covered by a thick bed of peat; but in Chiloe flat land supports the
most luxuriant forests. Here, within the Chonos Archipelago, the nature
of the climate more closely approaches that of Tierra del Fuego than
that of northern Chiloe; for every patch of level ground is covered by
two species of plants (Astelia pumila and Donatia magellanica), which
by their joint decay compose a thick bed of elastic peat.
[2] By sweeping with my insect-net, I procured from these situations a
considerable number of minute insects, of the family of Staphylinidæ,
and others allied to Pselaphus, and minute Hymenoptera. But the most
characteristic family in number, both of individuals and species,
throughout the more open parts of Chiloe and Chonos is that of
Telephoridæ.
In Tierra del Fuego, above the region of woodland, the former of these
eminently sociable plants is the chief agent in the production of peat.
Fresh leaves are always succeeding one to the other round the central
tap-root, the lower ones soon decay, and in tracing a root downwards in
the peat, the leaves, yet holding their place, can be observed passing
through every stage of decomposition, till the whole becomes blended in
one confused mass. The Astelia is assisted by a few other plants,—here
and there a small creeping Myrtus (M. nummularia), with a woody stem
like our cranberry and with a sweet berry,—an
Empetrum (E. rubrum), like our heath,—a rush (Juncus grandiflorus), are
nearly the only ones that grow on the swampy surface. These plants,
though possessing a very close general resemblance to the English
species of the same genera, are different. In the more level parts of
the country, the surface of the peat is broken up into little pools of
water, which stand at different heights, and appear as if artificially
excavated. Small streams of water, flowing underground, complete the
disorganisation of the vegetable matter, and consolidate the whole.
The climate of the southern part of America appears particularly
favourable to the production of peat. In the Falkland Islands almost
every kind of plant, even the coarse grass which covers the whole
surface of the land, becomes converted into this substance: scarcely
any situation checks its growth; some of the beds are as much as twelve
feet thick, and the lower part becomes so solid when dry, that it will
hardly burn. Although every plant lends its aid, yet in most parts the
Astelia is the most efficient. It is rather a singular circumstance, as
being so very different from what occurs in Europe, that I nowhere saw
moss forming by its decay any portion of the peat in South America.
With respect to the northern limit at which the climate allows of that
peculiar kind of slow decomposition which is necessary for its
production, I believe that in Chiloe (lat. 41° to 42°), although there
is much swampy ground, no well-characterised peat occurs: but in the
Chonos Islands, three degrees farther southward, we have seen that it
is abundant. On the eastern coast in La Plata (lat. 35°) I was told by
a Spanish resident who had visited Ireland, that he had often sought
for this substance, but had never been able to find any. He showed me,
as the nearest approach to it which he had discovered, a black peaty
soil, so penetrated with roots as to allow of an extremely slow and
imperfect combustion.
The zoology of these broken islets of the Chonos Archipelago is, as
might have been expected, very poor. Of quadrupeds two aquatic kinds
are common. The Myopotamus Coypus (like a beaver, but with a round
tail) is well known from its fine fur, which is an object of trade
throughout the tributaries of La
Plata. It here, however, exclusively frequents salt water; which same
circumstance has been mentioned as sometimes occurring with the great
rodent, the Capybara. A small sea-otter is very numerous; this animal
does not feed exclusively on fish, but, like the seals, draws a large
supply from a small red crab, which swims in shoals near the surface of
the water. Mr. Bynoe saw one in Tierra del Fuego eating a cuttle-fish;
and at Low’s Harbour, another was killed in the act of carrying to its
hole a large volute shell. At one place I caught in a trap a singular
little mouse (M. brachiotis); it appeared common on several of the
islets, but the Chilotans at Low’s Harbour said that it was not found
in all. What a succession of chances,[3] or what changes of level must
have been brought into play, thus to spread these small animals
throughout this broken archipelago!
[3] It is said that some rapacious birds bring their prey alive to
their nests. If so, in the course of centuries, every now and then,
one might escape from the young birds. Some such agency is necessary,
to account for the distribution of the smaller gnawing animals on
islands not very near each other.
In all parts of Chiloe and Chonos, two very strange birds occur, which
are allied to, and replace, the Turco and Tapacolo of central Chile.
One is called by the inhabitants “Cheucau” (Pteroptochos rubecula): it
frequents the most gloomy and retired spots within the damp forests.
Sometimes, although its cry may be heard close at hand, let a person
watch ever so attentively he will not see the cheucau; at other times
let him stand motionless and the red-breasted little bird will approach
within a few feet in the most familiar manner. It then busily hops
about the entangled mass of rotting canes and branches, with its little
tail cocked upwards. The cheucau is held in superstitious fear by the
Chilotans, on account of its strange and varied cries. There are three
very distinct cries: One is called “chiduco,” and is an omen of good;
another, “huitreu,” which is extremely unfavourable; and a third, which
I have forgotten. These words are given in imitation of the noises; and
the natives are in some things absolutely governed by them. The
Chilotans assuredly have chosen a most comical little creature for
their prophet. An allied species, but rather larger, is called by the
natives “Guid-guid” (Pteroptochos Tarnii), and by the English the
barking-bird. This latter name is well given; for
I defy any one at first to feel certain that a small dog is not yelping
somewhere in the forest. Just as with the cheucau, a person will
sometimes hear the bark close by, but in vain may endeavour by
watching, and with still less chance by beating the bushes, to see the
bird; yet at other times the guid-guid fearlessly comes near. Its
manner of feeding and its general habits are very similar to those of
the cheucau.
On the coast,[4] a small dusky-coloured bird (Opetiorhynchus
Patagonicus) is very common. It is remarkable from its quiet habits; it
lives entirely on the sea-beach, like a sandpiper. Besides these birds
only few others inhabit this broken land. In my rough notes I describe
the strange noises, which, although frequently heard within these
gloomy forests, yet scarcely disturb the general silence. The yelping
of the guid-guid, and the sudden whew-whew of the cheucau, sometimes
come from afar off, and sometimes from close at hand; the little black
wren of Tierra del Fuego occasionally adds its cry; the creeper
(Oxyurus) follows the intruder screaming and twittering; the
humming-bird may be seen every now and then darting from side to side,
and emitting, like an insect, its shrill chirp; lastly, from the top of
some lofty tree the indistinct but plaintive note of the white-tufted
tyrant-flycatcher (Myiobius) may be noticed. From the great
preponderance in most countries of certain common genera of birds, such
as the finches, one feels at first surprised at meeting with the
peculiar forms above enumerated, as the commonest birds in any
district. In central Chile two of them, namely, the Oxyurus and
Scytalopus, occur, although most rarely. When finding, as in this case,
animals which seem to play so insignificant a part in the great scheme
of nature, one is apt to wonder why they were created. But it should
always be recollected, that in some other country perhaps they are
essential members of society, or at some former period may have been
so. If America south of 37° were sunk beneath the waters of the ocean,
these two birds might continue to exist in central Chile for a long
period, but it is very improbable that their numbers would increase. We
should then see a case which must inevitably have happened with very
many animals.
[4] I may mention, as a proof of how great a difference there is
between the seasons of the wooded and the open parts of this coast,
that on September 20th, in lat. 34°, these birds had young ones in the
nest, while among the Chonos Islands, three months later in the
summer, they were only laying, the difference in latitude between
these two places being about 700 miles.
These southern seas are frequented by several species of Petrels: the
largest kind, Procellaria gigantea, or nelly (quebrantahuesos, or
break-bones, of the Spaniards), is a common bird, both in the inland
channels and on the open sea. In its habits and manner of flight there
is a very close resemblance with the albatross; and as with the
albatross, a person may watch it for hours together without seeing on
what it feeds. The “break-bones” is, however, a rapacious bird, for it
was observed by some of the officers at Port St. Antonio chasing a
diver, which tried to escape by diving and flying, but was continually
struck down, and at last killed by a blow on its head. At Port St.
Julian these great petrels were seen killing and devouring young gulls.
A second species (Puffinus cinereus), which is common to Europe, Cape
Horn, and the coast of Peru, is of a much smaller size than the P.
gigantea, but, like it, of a dirty black colour. It generally frequents
the inland sounds in very large flocks: I do not think I ever saw so
many birds of any other sort together, as I once saw of these behind
the island of Chiloe. Hundreds of thousands flew in an irregular line
for several hours in one direction. When part of the flock settled on
the water the surface was blackened, and a noise proceeded from them as
of human beings talking in the distance.
There are several other species of petrels, but I will only mention one
other kind, the Pelacanoides Berardi, which offers an example of those
extraordinary cases, of a bird evidently belonging to one well-marked
family, yet both in its habits and structure allied to a very distinct
tribe. This bird never leaves the quiet inland sounds. When disturbed
it dives to a distance, and on coming to the surface, with the same
movement takes flight. After flying by the rapid movement of its short
wings for a space in a straight line, it drops, as if struck dead, and
dives again. The form of its beak and nostrils, length of foot, and
even the colouring of its plumage, show that this bird is a petrel: on
the other hand, its short wings and consequent little power of flight,
its form of body and shape of tail, the absence of a hind toe to its
foot, its habit of living, and its choice of situation, make it at
first doubtful
whether its relationship is not equally close with the auks. It would
undoubtedly be mistaken for an auk, when seen from a distance, either
on the wing, or when diving and quietly swimming about the retired
channels of Tierra del Fuego.
[Illustration: Gunnera Scabra, Chiloe]
[Illustration: Antuco Volcano, near Talcahuano]
Chapter XIV
San Carlos, Chiloe—Osorno in eruption, contemporaneously with Aconcagua
and Coseguina—Ride to Cucao—Impenetrable
forests—Valdivia—Indians—Earthquake—Concepcion—Great earthquake—Rocks
fissured—Appearance of the former towns—The sea black and
boiling—Direction of the vibrations—Stones twisted round—Great
wave—Permanent elevation of the land—Area of volcanic phenomena—The
connection between the elevatory and eruptive forces—Cause of
earthquakes—Slow elevation of mountain-chains.
CHILOE AND CONCEPCION: GREAT EARTHQUAKE
On January the 15th, 1835 we sailed from Low’s Harbour, and three days
afterwards anchored a second time in the bay of S. Carlos in Chiloe. On
the night of the 19th the volcano of Osorno was in action. At midnight
the sentry observed something like a large star, which gradually
increased in size till about three o’clock, when it presented a very
magnificent
spectacle. By the aid of a glass, dark objects, in constant succession,
were seen, in the midst of a great glare of red light, to be thrown up
and to fall down. The light was sufficient to cast on the water a long
bright reflection. Large masses of molten matter seem very commonly to
be cast out of the craters in this part of the Cordillera. I was
assured that when the Corcovado is in eruption, great masses are
projected upwards and are seen to burst in the air, assuming many
fantastical forms, such as trees: their size must be immense, for they
can be distinguished from the high land behind S. Carlos, which is no
less than ninety-three miles from the Corcovado. In the morning the
volcano became tranquil.
Panoramic view of coast
I was surprised at hearing afterwards that Aconcagua in Chile, 480
miles northwards, was in action on the same night; and still more
surprised to hear that the great eruption of Coseguina (2700 miles
north of Aconcagua), accompanied by an earthquake felt over 1000 miles,
also occurred within six hours of this same time. This coincidence is
the more remarkable, as Coseguina had been dormant for twenty-six
years: and Aconcagua most rarely shows any signs of action. It is
difficult even to conjecture whether this coincidence was accidental,
or shows some subterranean connection. If Vesuvius, Etna, and Hecla in
Iceland (all three relatively nearer each other than the corresponding
points in South America),
suddenly burst forth in eruption on the same night, the coincidence
would be thought remarkable; but it is far more remarkable in this
case, where the three vents fall on the same great mountain-chain, and
where the vast plains along the entire eastern coast, and the upraised
recent shells along more than 2000 miles on the western coast, show in
how equable and connected a manner the elevatory forces have acted.
Inside island of Chiloe
Captain Fitz Roy being anxious that some bearings should be taken on
the outer coast of Chiloe, it was planned that Mr. King and myself
should ride to Castro, and thence across the island to the Capella de
Cucao, situated on the west coast. Having hired horses and a guide, we
set out on the morning of the 22nd. We had not proceeded far, before we
were joined by a woman and two boys, who were bent on the same journey.
Every one on this road acts on a “hail-fellow-well-met” fashion; and
one may here enjoy the privilege, so rare in South America, of
travelling without firearms. At first the country consisted of a
succession of hills and valleys: nearer to Castro it became very level.
The road itself is a curious affair; it consists in its whole length,
with the exception of very few parts, of great logs of wood, which are
either broad and laid longitudinally, or narrow and placed
transversely. In summer the road is not very bad: but in winter, when
the wood is rendered slippery from rain, travelling is exceedingly
difficult. At that time of the year, the ground on each side becomes a
morass, and is often overflowed: hence it is necessary that the
longitudinal logs should be fastened down by transverse poles, which
are pegged on each side into the earth. These pegs render a fall from a
horse dangerous, as the chance of alighting on one of them is not
small. It is remarkable, however, how active custom has made the
Chilotan horses. In crossing bad parts, where the logs had been
displaced, they skipped from one to the other, almost with the
quickness and certainty of a dog. On both hands the road is bordered by
the lofty forest-trees, with their bases matted together by canes. When
occasionally a long reach of this avenue could be beheld, it presented
a curious scene of uniformity: the white line of logs, narrowing in
perspective, became hidden by the gloomy forest, or terminated in a
zigzag which ascended some steep hill.
Although the distance from S. Carlos to Castro is only twelve leagues
in a straight line, the formation of the road must have been a great
labour. I was told that several people had formerly lost their lives in
attempting to cross the forest. The first who succeeded was an Indian,
who cut his way through the canes in eight days, and reached S. Carlos:
he was rewarded by the Spanish government with a grant of land. During
the summer, many of the Indians wander about the forests (but chiefly
in the higher parts, where the woods are not quite so thick), in search
of the half-wild cattle which live on the leaves of the cane and
certain trees. It was one of these huntsmen who by chance discovered, a
few years since, an English vessel, which had been wrecked on the outer
coast. The crew were beginning to fail in provisions, and it is not
probable that, without the aid of this man, they would ever have
extricated themselves from these scarcely penetrable woods. As it was,
one seaman died on the march, from fatigue. The Indians in these
excursions steer by the sun; so that if there is a continuance of
cloudy weather, they cannot travel.
The day was beautiful, and the number of trees which were in full
flower perfumed the air; yet even this could hardly dissipate the
effect of the gloomy dampness of the forest. Moreover, the many dead
trunks that stand like skeletons, never fail to give to these primeval
woods a character of solemnity, absent
in those of countries long civilised. Shortly after sunset we
bivouacked for the night. Our female companion, who was rather
good-looking, belonged to one of the most respectable families in
Castro: she rode, however, astride, and without shoes or stockings. I
was surprised at the total want of pride shown by her and her brother.
They brought food with them, but at all our meals sat watching Mr. King
and myself whilst eating, till we were fairly shamed into feeding the
whole party. The night was cloudless; and while lying in our beds, we
enjoyed the sight (and it is a high enjoyment) of the multitude of
stars which illumined the darkness of the forest.
_January_ 23_rd._—We rose early in the morning, and reached the pretty
quiet town of Castro by two o’clock. The old governor had died since
our last visit, and a Chileno was acting in his place. We had a letter
of introduction to Don Pedro, whom we found exceedingly hospitable and
kind, and more disinterested than is usual on this side of the
continent. The next day Don Pedro procured us fresh horses, and offered
to accompany us himself. We proceeded to the south—generally following
the coast, and passing through several hamlets, each with its large
barn-like chapel built of wood. At Vilipilli, Don Pedro asked the
commandant to give us a guide to Cucao. The old gentleman offered to
come himself; but for a long time nothing would persuade him that two
Englishmen really wished to go to such an out-of-the-way place as
Cucao. We were thus accompanied by the two greatest aristocrats in the
country, as was plainly to be seen in the manner of all the poorer
Indians towards them. At Chonchi we struck across the island, following
intricate winding paths, sometimes passing through magnificent forests,
and sometimes through pretty cleared spots, abounding with corn and
potato crops. This undulating woody country, partially cultivated,
reminded me of the wilder parts of England, and therefore had to my eye
a most fascinating aspect. At Vilinco, which is situated on the borders
of the lake of Cucao, only a few fields were cleared; and all the
inhabitants appeared to be Indians. This lake is twelve miles long, and
runs in an east and west direction. From local circumstances, the
sea-breeze blows very regularly during the day, and during the night it
falls calm: this has given rise to strange exaggerations,
for the phenomenon, as described to us at S. Carlos, was quite a
prodigy.
The road to Cucao was so very bad that we determined to embark in a
_periagua._ The commandant, in the most authoritative manner, ordered
six Indians to get ready to pull us over, without deigning to tell them
whether they would be paid. The periagua is a strange rough boat, but
the crew were still stranger: I doubt if six uglier little men ever got
into a boat together. They pulled, however, very well and cheerfully.
The stroke-oarsman gabbled Indian, and uttered strange cries, much
after the fashion of a pig-driver driving his pigs. We started with a
light breeze against us, but yet reached the Capella de Cucao before it
was late. The country on each side of the lake was one unbroken forest.
In the same periagua with us a cow was embarked. To get so large an
animal into a small boat appears at first a difficulty, but the Indians
managed it in a minute. They brought the cow alongside the boat, which
was heeled towards her; then placing two oars under her belly, with
their ends resting on the gunwale, by the aid of these levers they
fairly tumbled the poor beast heels over head into the bottom of the
boat, and then lashed her down with ropes. At Cucao we found an
uninhabited hovel (which is the residence of the padre when he pays
this Capella a visit), where, lighting a fire, we cooked our supper,
and were very comfortable.
The district of Cucao is the only inhabited part on the whole west
coast of Chiloe. It contains about thirty or forty Indian families, who
are scattered along four or five miles of the shore. They are very much
secluded from the rest of Chiloe, and have scarcely any sort of
commerce, except sometimes in a little oil, which they get from
seal-blubber. They are tolerably dressed in clothes of their own
manufacture, and they have plenty to eat. They seemed, however,
discontented, yet humble to a degree which it was quite painful to
witness. These feelings are, I think, chiefly to be attributed to the
harsh and authoritative manner in which they are treated by their
rulers. Our companions, although so very civil to us, behaved to the
poor Indians as if they had been slaves, rather than free men. They
ordered provisions and the use of their horses, without ever
condescending to say how much, or indeed whether the owners should
be paid at all. In the morning, being left alone with these poor
people, we soon ingratiated ourselves by presents of cigars and maté. A
lump of white sugar was divided between all present, and tasted with
the greatest curiosity. The Indians ended all their complaints by
saying, “And it is only because we are poor Indians, and know nothing;
but it was not so when we had a King.”
The next day after breakfast we rode a few miles northward to Punta
Huantamó. The road lay along a very broad beach, on which, even after
so many fine days, a terrible surf was breaking. I was assured that
after a heavy gale, the roar can be heard at night even at Castro, a
distance of no less than twenty-one sea-miles across a hilly and wooded
country. We had some difficulty in reaching the point, owing to the
intolerably bad paths; for everywhere in the shade the ground soon
becomes a perfect quagmire. The point itself is a bold rocky hill. It
is covered by a plant allied, I believe, to Bromelia, and called by the
inhabitants Chepones. In scrambling through the beds, our hands were
very much scratched. I was amused by observing the precaution our
Indian guide took, in turning up his trousers, thinking that they were
more delicate than his own hard skin. This plant bears a fruit, in
shape like an artichoke, in which a number of seed-vessels are packed:
these contain a pleasant sweet pulp, here much esteemed. I saw at Low’s
Harbour the Chilotans making chichi, or cider, with this fruit: so true
is it, as Humboldt remarks, that almost everywhere man finds means of
preparing some kind of beverage from the vegetable kingdom. The
savages, however, of Tierra del Fuego, and I believe of Australia, have
not advanced thus far in the arts.
The coast to the north of Punta Huantamó is exceedingly rugged and
broken, and is fronted by many breakers, on which the sea is eternally
roaring. Mr. King and myself were anxious to return, if it had been
possible, on foot along this coast; but even the Indians said it was
quite impracticable. We were told that men have crossed by striking
directly through the woods from Cucao to S. Carlos, but never by the
coast. On these expeditions, the Indians carry with them only roasted
corn, and of this they eat sparingly twice a day.
26_th._—Re-embarking in the periagua, we returned across the lake, and
then mounted our horses. The whole of Chiloe took advantage of this
week of unusually fine weather, to clear
the ground by burning. In every direction volumes of smoke were curling
upwards. Although the inhabitants were so assiduous in setting fire to
every part of the wood, yet I did not see a single fire which they had
succeeded in making extensive. We dined with our friend the commandant,
and did not reach Castro till after dark. The next morning we started
very early. After having ridden for some time, we obtained from the
brow of a steep hill an extensive view (and it is a rare thing on this
road) of the great forest. Over the horizon of trees, the volcano of
Corcovado, and the great flat-topped one to the north, stood out in
proud pre-eminence: scarcely another peak in the long range showed its
snowy summit. I hope it will be long before I forget this farewell view
of the magnificent Cordillera fronting Chiloe. At night we bivouacked
under a cloudless sky, and the next morning reached S. Carlos. We
arrived on the right day, for before evening heavy rain commenced.
_February_ 4_th._—Sailed from Chiloe. During the last week I made
several short excursions. One was to examine a great bed of
now-existing shells, elevated 350 feet above the level of the sea: from
among these shells, large forest-trees were growing. Another ride was
to P. Huechucucuy. I had with me a guide who knew the country far too
well; for he would pertinaciously tell me endless Indian names for
every little point, rivulet, and creek. In the same manner as in Tierra
del Fuego, the Indian language appears singularly well adapted for
attaching names to the most trivial features of the land. I believe
every one was glad to say farewell to Chiloe; yet if we could forget
the gloom and ceaseless rain of winter, Chiloe might pass for a
charming island. There is also something very attractive in the
simplicity and humble politeness of the poor inhabitants.
We steered northward along shore, but owing to thick weather did not
reach Valdivia till the night of the 8th. The next morning the boat
proceeded to the town, which is distant about ten miles. We followed
the course of the river, occasionally passing a few hovels, and patches
of ground cleared out of the otherwise unbroken forest; and sometimes
meeting a canoe with an Indian family. The town is situated on the low
banks of the stream, and is so completely buried in a wood of
apple-trees that the streets are merely paths in an
orchard. I have never seen any country where apple-trees appeared to
thrive so well as in this damp part of South America: on the borders of
the roads there were many young trees evidently self-sown. In Chiloe
the inhabitants possess a marvellously short method of making an
orchard. At the lower part of almost every branch, small, conical,
brown, wrinkled points project: these are always ready to change into
roots, as may sometimes be seen, where any mud has been accidentally
splashed against the tree. A branch as thick as a man’s thigh is chosen
in the early spring, and is cut off just beneath a group of these
points, all the smaller branches are lopped off, and it is then placed
about two feet deep in the ground. During the ensuing summer the stump
throws out long shoots, and sometimes even bears fruit: I was shown one
which had produced as many as twenty-three apples, but this was thought
very unusual. In the third season the stump is changed (as I have
myself seen) into a well-wooded tree, loaded with fruit. An old man
near Valdivia illustrated his motto, “Necesidad es la madre del
invencion,” by giving an account of the several useful things he
manufactured from his apples. After making cider, and likewise wine, he
extracted from the refuse a white and finely flavoured spirit; by
another process he procured a sweet treacle, or, as he called it,
honey. His children and pigs seemed almost to live, during this season
of the year, in his orchard.
_February_ 11_th._—I set out with a guide on a short ride, in which,
however, I managed to see singularly little, either of the geology of
the country or of its inhabitants. There is not much cleared land near
Valdivia: after crossing a river at the distance of a few miles, we
entered the forest, and then passed only one miserable hovel, before
reaching our sleeping-place for the night. The short difference in
latitude, of 150 miles, has given a new aspect to the forest compared
with that of Chiloe. This is owing to a slightly different proportion
in the kinds of trees. The evergreens do not appear to be quite so
numerous, and the forest in consequence has a brighter tint. As in
Chiloe, the lower parts are matted together by canes: here also another
kind (resembling the bamboo of Brazil and about twenty feet in height)
grows in clusters, and ornaments the banks of some of the streams in a
very pretty manner. It
is with this plant that the Indians make their chuzos, or long tapering
spears. Our resting-house was so dirty that I preferred sleeping
outside: on these journeys the first night is generally very
uncomfortable, because one is not accustomed to the tickling and biting
of the fleas. I am sure, in the morning, there was not a space on my
legs of the size of a shilling which had not its little red mark where
the flea had feasted.
12_th._—We continued to ride through the uncleared forest; only
occasionally meeting an Indian on horseback, or a troop of fine mules
bringing alerce-planks and corn from the southern plains. In the
afternoon one of the horses knocked up; we were then on a brow of a
hill, which commanded a fine view of the Llanos. The view of these open
plains was very refreshing, after being hemmed in and buried in the
wilderness of trees. The uniformity of a forest soon becomes very
wearisome. This west coast makes me remember with pleasure the free,
unbounded plains of Patagonia; yet, with the true spirit of
contradiction, I cannot forget how sublime is the silence of the
forest. The Llanos are the most fertile and thickly peopled parts of
the country, as they possess the immense advantage of being nearly free
from trees. Before leaving the forest we crossed some flat little
lawns, around which single trees stood, as in an English park: I have
often noticed with surprise, in wooded undulatory districts, that the
quite level parts have been destitute of trees. On account of the tired
horse, I determined to stop at the Mission of Cudico, to the friar of
which I had a letter of introduction. Cudico is an intermediate
district between the forest and the Llanos. There are a good many
cottages, with patches of corn and potatoes, nearly all belonging to
Indians. The tribes dependent on Valdivia are “reducidos y cristianos.”
The Indians farther northward, about Arauco and Imperial, are still
very wild, and not converted; but they have all much intercourse with
the Spaniards. The padre said that the Christian Indians did not much
like coming to mass, but that otherwise they showed respect for
religion. The greatest difficulty is in making them observe the
ceremonies of marriage. The wild Indians take as many wives as they can
support, and a cacique will sometimes have more than ten: on entering
his house, the number may be told by that of the separate fires. Each
wife lives a week in turn with the cacique;
but all are employed in weaving ponchos, etc., for his profit. To be
the wife of a cacique is an honour much sought after by the Indian
women.
The men of all these tribes wear a coarse woolen poncho: those south of
Valdivia wear short trousers, and those north of it a petticoat, like
the chilipa of the Gauchos. All have their long hair bound by a scarlet
fillet, but with no other covering on their heads. These Indians are
good-sized men; their cheek-bones are prominent, and in general
appearance they resemble the great American family to which they
belong; but their physiognomy seemed to me to be slightly different
from that of any other tribe which I had before seen. Their expression
is generally grave, and even austere, and possesses much character:
this may pass either for honest bluntness or fierce determination. The
long black hair, the grave and much-lined features, and the dark
complexion, called to my mind old portraits of James I. On the road we
met with none of that humble politeness so universal in Chiloe. Some
gave their “mari-mari” (good morning) with promptness, but the greater
number did not seem inclined to offer any salute. This independence of
manners is probably a consequence of their long wars, and the repeated
victories which they alone, of all the tribes in America, have gained
over the Spaniards.
I spent the evening very pleasantly, talking with the padre. He was
exceedingly kind and hospitable; and coming from Santiago, had
contrived to surround himself with some few comforts. Being a man of
some little education, he bitterly complained of the total want of
society. With no particular zeal for religion, no business or pursuit,
how completely must this man’s life be wasted! The next day, on our
return, we met seven very wild-looking Indians, of whom some were
caciques that had just received from the Chilian government their
yearly small stipend for having long remained faithful. They were
fine-looking men, and they rode one after the other, with most gloomy
faces. An old cacique, who headed them, had been, I suppose, more
excessively drunk than the rest, for he seemed both extremely grave and
very crabbed. Shortly before this, two Indians joined us, who were
travelling from a distant mission to Valdivia concerning some lawsuit.
One was a good-humoured old man, but from his wrinkled beardless
face looked more like an old woman than a man. I frequently presented
both of them with cigars; and though ready to receive them, and I
daresay grateful, they would hardly condescend to thank me. A Chilotan
Indian would have taken off his hat, and given his “Dios le page!” The
travelling was very tedious, both from the badness of the roads and
from the number of great fallen trees, which it was necessary either to
leap over or to avoid by making long circuits. We slept on the road,
and next morning reached Valdivia, whence I proceeded on board.
A few days afterwards I crossed the bay with a party of officers, and
landed near the fort called Niebla. The buildings were in a most
ruinous state, and the gun-carriages quite rotten. Mr. Wickham remarked
to the commanding officer, that with one discharge they would certainly
all fall to pieces. The poor man, trying to put a good face upon it,
gravely replied, “No, I am sure, sir, they would stand two!” The
Spaniards must have intended to have made this place impregnable. There
is now lying in the middle of the courtyard a little mountain of
mortar, which rivals in hardness the rock on which it is placed. It was
brought from Chile, and cost 7000 dollars. The revolution having broken
out prevented its being applied to any purpose, and now it remains a
monument of the fallen greatness of Spain.
I wanted to go to a house about a mile and a half distant, but my guide
said it was quite impossible to penetrate the wood in a straight line.
He offered, however, to lead me, by following obscure cattle-tracks,
the shortest way: the walk, nevertheless, took no less than three
hours! This man is employed in hunting strayed cattle; yet, well as he
must know the woods, he was not long since lost for two whole days, and
had nothing to eat. These facts convey a good idea of the
impracticability of the forests of these countries. A question often
occurred to me—how long does any vestige of a fallen tree remain? This
man showed me one which a party of fugitive royalists had cut down
fourteen years ago; and taking this as a criterion, I should think a
bole a foot and a half in diameter would in thirty years be changed
into a heap of mould.
_February_ 20_th._—This day has been memorable in the annals of
Valdivia, for the most severe earthquake experienced
by the oldest inhabitant. I happened to be on shore, and was lying down
in the wood to rest myself. It came on suddenly, and lasted two
minutes, but the time appeared much longer. The rocking of the ground
was very sensible. The undulations appeared to my companion and myself
to come from due east, whilst others thought they proceeded from
south-west: this shows how difficult it sometimes is to perceive the
direction of the vibrations. There was no difficulty in standing
upright, but the motion made me almost giddy: it was something like the
movement of a vessel in a little cross-ripple, or still more like that
felt by a person skating over thin ice, which bends under the weight of
his body.
A bad earthquake at once destroys our oldest associations: the earth,
the very emblem of solidity, has moved beneath our feet like a thin
crust over a fluid;—one second of time has created in the mind a
strange idea of insecurity, which hours of reflection would not have
produced. In the forest, as a breeze moved the trees, I felt only the
earth tremble, but saw no other effect. Captain Fitz Roy and some
officers were at the town during the shock, and there the scene was
more striking; for although the houses, from being built of wood, did
not fall, they were violently shaken, and the boards creaked and
rattled together. The people rushed out of doors in the greatest alarm.
It is these accompaniments that create that perfect horror of
earthquakes, experienced by all who have thus seen, as well as felt,
their effects. Within the forest it was a deeply interesting, but by no
means an awe-exciting phenomenon. The tides were very curiously
affected. The great shock took place at the time of low water; and an
old woman who was on the beach told me that the water flowed very
quickly, but not in great waves, to high-water mark, and then as
quickly returned to its proper level; this was also evident by the line
of wet sand. The same kind of quick but quiet movement in the tide
happened a few years since at Chiloe, during a slight earthquake, and
created much causeless alarm. In the course of the evening there were
many weaker shocks, which seemed to produce in the harbour the most
complicated currents, and some of great strength.
_March_ 4_th._—We entered the harbour of Concepcion.
While the ship was beating up to the anchorage, I landed on the island
of Quiriquina. The mayor-domo of the estate quickly rode down to tell
me the terrible news of the great earthquake of the 20th:—“That not a
house in Concepcion or Talcahuano (the port) was standing; that seventy
villages were destroyed; and that a great wave had almost washed away
the ruins of Talcahuano.” Of this latter statement I soon saw abundant
proofs—the whole coast being strewed over with timber and furniture as
if a thousand ships had been wrecked. Besides chairs, tables,
book-shelves, etc., in great numbers, there were several roofs of
cottages, which had been transported almost whole. The storehouses at
Talcahuano had been burst open, and great bags of cotton, yerba, and
other valuable merchandise were scattered on the shore. During my walk
round the island, I observed that numerous fragments of rock, which,
from the marine productions adhering to them, must recently have been
lying in deep water, had been cast up high on the beach; one of these
was six feet long, three broad, and two thick.
The island itself as plainly showed the overwhelming power of the
earthquake, as the beach did that of the consequent great wave. The
ground in many parts was fissured in north and south lines, perhaps
caused by the yielding of the parallel and steep sides of this narrow
island. Some of the fissures near the cliffs were a yard wide. Many
enormous masses had already fallen on the beach; and the inhabitants
thought that when the rains commenced far greater slips would happen.
The effect of the vibration on the hard primary slate, which composes
the foundation of the island, was still more curious: the superficial
parts of some narrow ridges were as completely shivered as if they had
been blasted by gunpowder. This effect, which was rendered conspicuous
by the fresh fractures and displaced soil, must be confined to near the
surface, for otherwise there would not exist a block of solid rock
throughout Chile; nor is this improbable, as it is known that the
surface of a vibrating body is affected differently from the central
part. It is, perhaps, owing to this same reason that earthquakes do not
cause quite such terrific havoc within deep mines as would be expected.
I believe this convulsion has been more effectual in lessening the size
of the island of
Quiriquina, than the ordinary wear-and-tear of the sea and weather
during the course of a whole century.
The next day I landed at Talcahuano, and afterwards rode to Concepcion.
Both towns presented the most awful yet interesting spectacle I ever
beheld. To a person who had formerly known them, it possibly might have
been still more impressive; for the ruins were so mingled together, and
the whole scene possessed so little the air of a habitable place, that
it was scarcely possible to imagine its former condition. The
earthquake commenced at half-past eleven o’clock in the forenoon. If it
had happened in the middle of the night, the greater number of the
inhabitants (which in this one province amount to many thousands) must
have perished, instead of less than a hundred: as it was, the
invariable practice of running out of doors at the first trembling of
the ground, alone saved them. In Concepcion each house, or row of
houses, stood by itself, a heap or line of ruins; but in Talcahuano,
owing to the great wave, little more than one layer of bricks, tiles,
and timber, with here and there part of a wall left standing, could be
distinguished. From this circumstance Concepcion, although not so
completely desolated, was a more terrible, and if I may so call it,
picturesque sight. The first shock was very sudden. The mayor-domo at
Quiriquina told me that the first notice he received of it, was finding
both the horse he rode and himself rolling together on the ground.
Rising up, he was again thrown down. He also told me that some cows
which were standing on the steep side of the island were rolled into
the sea. The great wave caused the destruction of many cattle; on one
low island near the head of the bay, seventy animals were washed off
and drowned. It is generally thought that this has been the worst
earthquake ever recorded in Chile; but as the very severe ones occur
only after long intervals, this cannot easily be known; nor indeed
would a much worse shock have made any great difference, for the ruin
was now complete. Innumerable small tremblings followed the great
earthquake, and within the first twelve days no less than three hundred
were counted.
After viewing Concepcion, I cannot understand how the greater number of
inhabitants escaped unhurt. The houses in many parts fell outwards;
thus forming in the middle of the
streets little hillocks of brickwork and rubbish. Mr. Rouse, the
English consul, told us that he was at breakfast when the first
movement warned him to run out. He had scarcely reached the middle of
the courtyard, when one side of his house came thundering down. He
retained presence of mind to remember that, if he once got on the top
of that part which had already fallen, he would be safe. Not being able
from the motion of the ground to stand, he crawled up on his hands and
knees; and no sooner had he ascended this little eminence, than the
other side of the house fell in, the great beams sweeping close in
front of his head. With his eyes blinded and his mouth choked with the
cloud of dust which darkened the sky, at last he gained the street. As
shock succeeded shock, at the interval of a few minutes, no one dared
approach the shattered ruins, and no one knew whether his dearest
friends and relations were not perishing from the want of help. Those
who had saved any property were obliged to keep a constant watch, for
thieves prowled about, and at each little trembling of the ground, with
one hand they beat their breasts and cried “misericordia!” and then
with the other filched what they could from the ruins. The thatched
roofs fell over the fires, and flames burst forth in all parts.
Hundreds knew themselves ruined, and few had the means of providing
food for the day.
Earthquakes alone are sufficient to destroy the prosperity of any
country. If beneath England the now inert subterranean forces should
exert those powers which most assuredly in former geological ages they
have exerted, how completely would the entire condition of the country
be changed! What would become of the lofty houses, thickly packed
cities, great manufactories, the beautiful public and private edifices?
If the new period of disturbance were first to commence by some great
earthquake in the dead of the night, how terrific would be the carnage!
England would at once be bankrupt; all papers, records, and accounts
would from that moment be lost. Government being unable to collect the
taxes, and failing to maintain its authority, the hand of violence and
rapine would remain uncontrolled. In every large town famine would go
forth, pestilence and death following in its train.
Shortly after the shock, a great wave was seen from the
distance of three or four miles, approaching in the middle of the bay
with a smooth outline; but along the shore it tore up cottages and
trees, as it swept onwards with irresistible force. At the head of the
bay it broke in a fearful line of white breakers, which rushed up to a
height of 23 vertical feet above the highest spring-tides. Their force
must have been prodigious; for at the Fort a cannon with its carriage,
estimated at four tons in weight, was moved 15 feet inwards. A schooner
was left in the midst of the ruins, 200 yards from the beach. The first
wave was followed by two others, which in their retreat carried away a
vast wreck of floating objects. In one part of the bay, a ship was
pitched high and dry on shore, was carried off, again driven on shore,
and again carried off. In another part two large vessels anchored near
together were whirled about, and their cables were thrice wound round
each other: though anchored at a depth of 36 feet, they were for some
minutes aground. The great wave must have travelled slowly, for the
inhabitants of Talcahuano had time to run up the hills behind the town;
and some sailors pulled out seaward, trusting successfully to their
boat riding securely over the swell, if they could reach it before it
broke. One old woman with a little boy, four or five years old, ran
into a boat, but there was nobody to row it out: the boat was
consequently dashed against an anchor and cut in twain; the old woman
was drowned, but the child was picked up some hours afterwards clinging
to the wreck. Pools of salt-water were still standing amidst the ruins
of the houses, and children, making boats with old tables and chairs,
appeared as happy as their parents were miserable. It was, however,
exceedingly interesting to observe, how much more active and cheerful
all appeared than could have been expected. It was remarked with much
truth, that from the destruction being universal, no one individual was
humbled more than another, or could suspect his friends of
coldness—that most grievous result of the loss of wealth. Mr. Rouse,
and a large party whom he kindly took under his protection, lived for
the first week in a garden beneath some apple-trees. At first they were
as merry as if it had been a picnic; but soon afterwards heavy rain
caused much discomfort, for they were absolutely without shelter.
In Captain Fitz Roy’s excellent account of the earthquake it is said
that two explosions, one like a column of smoke and
another like the blowing of a great whale, were seen in the bay. The
water also appeared everywhere to be boiling; and it “became black, and
exhaled a most disagreeable sulphureous smell.” These latter
circumstances were observed in the Bay of Valparaiso during the
earthquake of 1822; they may, I think, be accounted for by the
disturbance of the mud at the bottom of the sea containing organic
matter in decay. In the Bay of Callao, during a calm day, I noticed,
that as the ship dragged her cable over the bottom, its course was
marked by a line of bubbles. The lower orders in Talcahuano thought
that the earthquake was caused by some old Indian women, who two years
ago, being offended, stopped the volcano of Antuco. This silly belief
is curious, because it shows that experience has taught them to observe
that there exists a relation between the suppressed action of the
volcanos, and the trembling of the ground. It was necessary to apply
the witchcraft to the point where their perception of cause and effect
failed; and this was the closing of the volcanic vent. This belief is
the more singular in this particular instance because, according to
Captain Fitz Roy, there is reason to believe that Antuco was noways
affected.
The town of Concepcion was built in the usual Spanish fashion, with all
the streets running at right angles to each other; one set ranging
south-west by west, and the other set north-west by north. The walls in
the former direction certainly stood better than those in the latter;
the greater number of the masses of brickwork were thrown down towards
the N.E. Both these circumstances perfectly agree with the general idea
of the undulations having come from the S.W.; in which quarter
subterranean noises were also heard; for it is evident that the walls
running S.W. and N.E. which presented their ends to the point whence
the undulations came, would be much less likely to fall than those
walls which, running N.W. and S.E., must in their whole lengths have
been at the same instant thrown out of the perpendicular; for the
undulations, coming from the S.W., must have extended in N.W. and S.E.
waves, as they passed under the foundations. This may be illustrated by
placing books edgeways on a carpet, and then, after the manner
suggested by Michell, imitating the undulations of an earthquake: it
will be found that they fall with more or less
readiness, according as their direction more or less nearly coincides
with the line of the waves. The fissures in the ground generally,
though not uniformly, extended in a S.E. and N.W. direction, and
therefore corresponded to the lines of undulation or of principal
flexure. Bearing in mind all these circumstances, which so clearly
point to the S.W. as the chief focus of disturbance, it is a very
interesting fact that the island of S. Maria, situated in that quarter,
was, during the general uplifting of the land, raised to nearly three
times the height of any other part of the coast.
The different resistance offered by the walls, according to their
direction, was well exemplified in the case of the Cathedral. The side
which fronted the N.E. presented a grand pile of ruins, in the midst of
which door-cases and masses of timber stood up, as if floating in a
stream. Some of the angular blocks of brickwork were of great
dimensions; and they were rolled to a distance on the level plaza, like
fragments of rock at the base of some high mountain. The side walls
(running S.W. and N.E.), though exceedingly fractured, yet remained
standing; but the vast buttresses (at right angles to them, and
therefore parallel to the walls that fell) were in many cases cut clean
off, as if by a chisel, and hurled to the ground. Some square ornaments
on the coping of these same walls were moved by the earthquake into a
diagonal position. A similar circumstance was observed after an
earthquake at Valparaiso, Calabria, and other places, including some of
the ancient Greek temples.[1] This twisting displacement at first
appears to indicate a vorticose movement beneath each point thus
affected; but this is highly improbable. May it not be caused by a
tendency in each stone to arrange itself in some particular position
with respect to the lines of vibration,—in a manner somewhat similar to
pins on a sheet of paper when shaken? Generally speaking, arched
doorways or windows stood much better than any other part of the
buildings. Nevertheless, a poor lame old man, who had been in the
habit, during trifling shocks, of crawling to a certain doorway, was
this time crushed to pieces.
[1] M. Arago in _L’Institut_, 1839, p. 337. See also Miers’s _Chile_,
vol. i, p. 392; also Lyell’s _ Principles of Geology_, chap. xv, book
ii.
I have not attempted to give any detailed description of the appearance
of Concepcion, for I feel that it is quite
impossible to convey the mingled feelings which I experienced. Several
of the officers visited it before me, but their strongest language
failed to give a just idea of the scene of desolation. It is a bitter
and humiliating thing to see works, which have cost man so much time
and labour, overthrown in one minute; yet compassion for the
inhabitants was almost instantly banished, by the surprise in seeing a
state of things produced in a moment of time, which one was accustomed
to attribute to a succession of ages. In my opinion, we have scarcely
beheld, since leaving England, any sight so deeply interesting.
In almost every severe earthquake, the neighbouring waters of the sea
are said to have been greatly agitated. The disturbance seems
generally, as in the case of Concepcion, to have been of two kinds:
first, at the instant of the shock, the water swells high up on the
beach with a gentle motion, and then as quietly retreats; secondly,
some time afterwards, the whole body of the sea retires from the coast,
and then returns in waves of overwhelming force. The first movement
seems to be an immediate consequence of the earthquake affecting
differently a fluid and a solid, so that their respective levels are
slightly deranged: but the second case is a far more important
phenomenon. During most earthquakes, and especially during those on the
west coast of America, it is certain that the first great movement of
the waters has been a retirement. Some authors have attempted to
explain this, by supposing that the water retains its level, whilst the
land oscillates upwards; but surely the water close to the land, even
on a rather steep coast, would partake of the motion of the bottom:
moreover, as urged by Mr. Lyell, similar movements of the sea have
occurred at islands far distant from the chief line of disturbance, as
was the case with Juan Fernandez during this earthquake, and with
Madeira during the famous Lisbon shock. I suspect (but the subject is a
very obscure one) that a wave, however produced, first draws the water
from the shore, on which it is advancing to break: I have observed that
this happens with the little waves from the paddles of a steam-boat. It
is remarkable that whilst Talcahuano and Callao (near Lima), both
situated at the head of large shallow bays, have suffered during every
severe earthquake from great waves, Valparaiso, seated close to the
edge of profoundly deep water, has never
been overwhelmed, though so often shaken by the severest shocks. From
the great wave not immediately following the earthquake, but sometimes
after the interval of even half an hour, and from distant islands being
affected similarly with the coasts near the focus of the disturbance,
it appears that the wave first rises in the offing; and as this is of
general occurrence, the cause must be general: I suspect we must look
to the line where the less disturbed waters of the deep ocean join the
water nearer the coast, which has partaken of the movements of the
land, as the place where the great wave is first generated; it would
also appear that the wave is larger or smaller, according to the extent
of shoal water which has been agitated together with the bottom on
which it rested.
The most remarkable effect of this earthquake was the permanent
elevation of the land; it would probably be far more correct to speak
of it as the cause. There can be no doubt that the land round the Bay
of Concepcion was upraised two or three feet; but it deserves notice,
that owing to the wave having obliterated the old lines of tidal action
on the sloping sandy shores, I could discover no evidence of this fact,
except in the united testimony of the inhabitants, that one little
rocky shoal, now exposed, was formerly covered with water. At the
island of S. Maria (about thirty miles distant) the elevation was
greater; on one part, Captain Fitz Roy found beds of putrid
mussel-shells _still adhering to the rocks,_ ten feet above high-water
mark: the inhabitants had formerly dived at lower-water spring-tides
for these shells. The elevation of this province is particularly
interesting, from its having been the theatre of several other violent
earthquakes, and from the vast numbers of sea-shells scattered over the
land, up to a height of certainly 600, and I believe, of 1000 feet. At
Valparaiso, as I have remarked, similar shells are found at the height
of 1300 feet: it is hardly possible to doubt that this great elevation
has been effected by successive small uprisings, such as that which
accompanied or caused the earthquake of this year, and likewise by an
insensibly slow rise, which is certainly in progress on some parts of
this coast.
The island of Juan Fernandez, 360 miles to the N.E., was, at the time
of the great shock of the 20th, violently shaken, so
that the trees beat against each other, and a volcano burst forth under
water close to the shore: these facts are remarkable because this
island, during the earthquake of 1751, was then also affected more
violently than other places at an equal distance from Concepcion, and
this seems to show some subterranean connexion between these two
points. Chiloe, about 340 miles southward of Concepcion, appears to
have been shaken more strongly than the intermediate district of
Valdivia, where the volcano of Villarica was noways affected, whilst in
the Cordillera in front of Chiloe two of the volcanos burst forth at
the same instant in violent action. These two volcanos, and some
neighbouring ones, continued for a long time in eruption, and ten
months afterwards were again influenced by an earthquake at Concepcion.
Some men cutting wood near the base of one of these volcanos, did not
perceive the shock of the 20th, although the whole surrounding Province
was then trembling; here we have an eruption relieving and taking the
place of an earthquake, as would have happened at Concepcion, according
to the belief of the lower orders, if the volcano at Antuco had not
been closed by witchcraft. Two years and three-quarters afterwards
Valdivia and Chiloe were again shaken, more violently than on the 20th,
and an island in the Chonos Archipelago was permanently elevated more
than eight feet. It will give a better idea of the scale of these
phenomena, if (as in the case of the glaciers) we suppose them to have
taken place at corresponding distances in Europe:—then would the land
from the North Sea to the Mediterranean have been violently shaken, and
at the same instant of time a large tract of the eastern coast of
England would have been permanently elevated, together with some
outlying islands,—a train of volcanos on the coast of Holland would
have burst forth in action, and an eruption taken place at the bottom
of the sea, near the northern extremity of Ireland—and lastly, the
ancient vents of Auvergne, Cantal, and Mont d’Or would each have sent
up to the sky a dark column of smoke, and have long remained in fierce
action. Two years and three-quarters afterwards, France, from its
centre to the English Channel, would have been again desolated by an
earthquake, and an island permanently upraised in the Mediterranean.
The space, from under which volcanic matter on the 20th was actually
erupted, is 720 miles in one line, and 400 miles in another line at
right angles to the first: hence, in all probability, a subterranean
lake of lava is here stretched out, of nearly double the area of the
Black Sea. From the intimate and complicated manner in which the
elevatory and eruptive forces were shown to be connected during this
train of phenomena, we may confidently come to the conclusion that the
forces which slowly and by little starts uplift continents, and those
which at successive periods pour forth volcanic matter from open
orifices, are identical. From many reasons, I believe that the frequent
quakings of the earth on this line of coast are caused by the rending
of the strata, necessarily consequent on the tension of the land when
upraised, and their injection by fluidified rock. This rending and
injection would, if repeated often enough (and we know that earthquakes
repeatedly affect the same areas in the same manner), form a chain of
hills;—and the linear island of St. Mary, which was upraised thrice the
height of the neighbouring country, seems to be undergoing this
process. I believe that the solid axis of a mountain differs in its
manner of formation from a volcanic hill, only in the molten stone
having been repeatedly injected, instead of having been repeatedly
ejected. Moreover, I believe that it is impossible to explain the
structure of great mountain-chains, such as that of the Cordillera,
where the strata, capping the injected axis of plutonic rock, have been
thrown on their edges along several parallel and neighbouring lines of
elevation, except on this view of the rock of the axis having been
repeatedly injected, after intervals sufficiently long to allow the
upper parts or wedges to cool and become solid;—for if the strata had
been thrown into their present highly-inclined, vertical, and even
inverted positions, by a single blow, the very bowels of the earth
would have gushed out; and instead of beholding abrupt mountain-axes of
rock solidified under great pressure, deluges of lava would have flowed
out at innumerable points on every line of elevation.[2]
[2] For a full account of the volcanic phenomena which accompanied the
earthquake of the 20th, and for the conclusions deducible from them, I
must refer to Volume V of the _Geological Transactions._
[Illustration: Hide Bridge, Santiago de Chile]
Chapter XV
Valparaiso—Portillo Pass—Sagacity of mules—Mountain-torrents—Mines, how
discovered—Proofs of the gradual elevation of the Cordillera—Effect of
snow on rocks—Geological structure of the two main ranges, their
distinct origin and upheaval—Great subsidence—Red snow—Winds—Pinnacles
of snow—Dry and clear atmosphere—Electricity—Pampas—Zoology of the
opposite sides of the Andes—Locusts—Great Bugs—Mendoza—Uspallata
Pass—Silicified trees buried as they grew—Incas Bridge—Badness of the
passes exaggerated—Cumbre—Casuchas—Valparaiso.
PASSAGE OF THE CORDILLERA
_March_ 7_th_, 1835.—We stayed three days at Concepcion, and then
sailed for Valparaiso. The wind being northerly, we only reached the
mouth of the harbour of Concepcion before it was dark. Being very near
the land, and a fog coming on, the anchor was dropped. Presently a
large American whaler appeared close alongside of us; and we heard the
Yankee swearing at his men to keep quiet, whilst he listened for the
breakers. Captain Fitz Roy hailed him, in a loud clear voice, to anchor
where he then was. The poor man must have thought the voice came from
the shore: such a Babel of cries issued at once from the ship—every one
hallooing out, “Let go the anchor! veer cable! shorten sail!” It was
the most laughable thing I ever heard. If the ship’s crew had been all
captains, and no men, there could not have been a greater uproar of
orders. We afterwards found that the mate stuttered: I suppose all
hands were assisting him in giving his orders.
On the 11th we anchored at Valparaiso, and two days afterwards I set
out to cross the Cordillera. I proceeded to Santiago, where Mr.
Caldcleugh most kindly assisted me in every possible way in making the
little preparations which were necessary. In this part of Chile there
are two passes across the Andes to Mendoza: the one most commonly used,
namely, that of Aconcagua or Uspallata—is situated some way to the
north; the other, called the Portillo, is to the south, and nearer, but
more lofty and dangerous.
_March_ 18_th._—We set out for the Portillo pass. Leaving Santiago we
crossed the wide burnt-up plain on which that city stands, and in the
afternoon arrived at the Maypu, one of the principal rivers in Chile.
The valley, at the point where it enters the first Cordillera, is
bounded on each side by lofty barren mountains; and although not broad,
it is very fertile. Numerous cottages were surrounded by vines, and by
orchards of apple, nectarine, and peach-trees—their boughs breaking
with the weight of the beautiful ripe fruit. In the evening we passed
the custom-house, where our luggage was examined. The frontier of Chile
is better guarded by the Cordillera than by the waters of the sea.
There are very few valleys which lead to the central ranges, and the
mountains are quite impassable in other parts by beasts of burden. The
custom-house officers were very civil, which was perhaps partly owing
to the passport which the President of the Republic had given me; but I
must express my admiration at the natural politeness of almost every
Chileno. In this instance, the contrast with the same class of men in
most other countries was strongly marked. I may mention an anecdote
with which I was at the time much pleased: we met near Mendoza a little
and very fat negress,
riding astride on a mule. She had a _goître_ so enormous that it was
scarcely possible to avoid gazing at her for a moment; but my two
companions almost instantly, by way of apology, made the common salute
of the country by taking off their hats. Where would one of the lower
or higher classes in Europe have shown such feeling politeness to a
poor and miserable object of a degraded race?
At night we slept at a cottage. Our manner of travelling was
delightfully independent. In the inhabited parts we bought a little
firewood, hired pasture for the animals, and bivouacked in the corner
of the same field with them. Carrying an iron pot, we cooked and ate
our supper under a cloudless sky, and knew no trouble. My companions
were Mariano Gonzales, who had formerly accompanied me in Chile, and an
“arriero,” with his ten mules and a “madrina.” The madrina (or
godmother) is a most important personage: she is an old steady mare,
with a little bell round her neck; and wherever she goes, the mules,
like good children, follow her. The affection of these animals for
their madrinas saves infinite trouble. If several large troops are
turned into one field to graze, in the morning the muleteers have only
to lead the madrinas a little apart, and tinkle their bells; and
although there may be two or three hundred together, each mule
immediately knows the bell of its own madrina, and comes to her. It is
nearly impossible to lose an old mule; for if detained for several
hours by force, she will, by the power of smell, like a dog, track out
her companions, or rather the madrina, for, according to the muleteer,
she is the chief object of affection. The feeling, however, is not of
an individual nature; for I believe I am right in saying that any
animal with a bell will serve as a madrina. In a troop each animal
carries on a level road, a cargo weighing 416 pounds (more than 29
stone), but in a mountainous country 100 pounds less; yet with what
delicate slim limbs, without any proportional bulk of muscle, these
animals support so great a burden! The mule always appears to me a most
surprising animal. That a hybrid should possess more reason, memory,
obstinacy, social affection, powers of muscular endurance, and length
of life, than either of its parents, seems to indicate that art has
here outdone nature. Of our ten animals, six were intended for riding,
and four for carrying cargoes, each taking turn about. We carried a
good
deal of food in case we should be snowed up, as the season was rather
late for passing the Portillo.
[Illustration]
_March_ 19_th._—We rode during this day to the last, and therefore most
elevated, house in the valley. The number of inhabitants became scanty;
but wherever water could be brought on the land, it was very fertile.
All the main valleys in the Cordillera are characterised by having, on
both sides, a fringe or terrace of shingle and sand, rudely stratified,
and generally of considerable thickness. These fringes evidently once
extended across the valleys and were united; and the bottoms of the
valleys in northern Chile, where there are no streams, are thus
smoothly filled up. On these fringes the roads are generally carried,
for their surfaces are even, and they rise with a very gentle slope up
the valleys: hence, also, they are easily cultivated by irrigation.
They may be traced up to a height of between 7000 and 9000 feet, where
they become hidden by the irregular piles of debris. At the lower end
or mouths of the valleys they are continuously united to those
land-locked plains (also formed of shingle) at the foot of the main
Cordillera, which I have described in a former chapter as
characteristic of the scenery of Chile, and which were undoubtedly
deposited when the sea penetrated Chile, as it now does the more
southern coasts. No one fact in the geology of South America interested
me more than these terraces of rudely-stratified shingle. They
precisely resemble in composition the matter which the torrents in each
valley would deposit if they were checked in
their course by any cause, such as entering a lake or arm of the sea;
but the torrents, instead of depositing matter, are now steadily at
work wearing away both the solid rock and these alluvial deposits,
along the whole line of every main valley and side valley. It is
impossible here to give the reasons, but I am convinced that the
shingle terraces were accumulated, during the gradual elevation of the
Cordillera, by the torrents delivering, at successive levels, their
detritus on the beach-heads of long narrow arms of the sea, first high
up the valleys, then lower and lower down as the land slowly rose. If
this be so, and I cannot doubt it, the grand and broken chain of the
Cordillera, instead of having been suddenly thrown up, as was till
lately the universal, and still is the common opinion of geologists,
has been slowly upheaved in mass, in the same gradual manner as the
coasts of the Atlantic and Pacific have risen within the recent period.
A multitude of facts in the structure of the Cordillera, on this view
receive a simple explanation.
South American bit
The rivers which flow in these valleys ought rather to be called
mountain-torrents. Their inclination is very great, and their water the
colour of mud. The roar which the Maypu made, as it rushed over the
great rounded fragments, was like that of the sea. Amidst the din of
rushing waters, the noise from the
stones, as they rattled one over another, was most distinctly audible
even from a distance. This rattling noise, night and day, may be heard
along the whole course of the torrent. The sound spoke eloquently to
the geologist; the thousands and thousands of stones which, striking
against each other, made the one dull uniform sound, were all hurrying
in one direction. It was like thinking on time, where the minute that
now glides past is irrevocable. So was it with these stones; the ocean
is their eternity, and each note of that wild music told of one more
step towards their destiny.
It is not possible for the mind to comprehend, except by a slow
process, any effect which is produced by a cause repeated so often that
the multiplier itself conveys an idea not more definite than the savage
implies when he points to the hairs of his head. As often as I have
seen beds of mud, sand, and shingle, accumulated to the thickness of
many thousand feet, I have felt inclined to exclaim that causes, such
as the present rivers and the present beaches, could never have ground
down and produced such masses. But, on the other hand, when listening
to the rattling noise of these torrents, and calling to mind that whole
races of animals have passed away from the face of the earth, and that
during this whole period, night and day, these stones have gone
rattling onwards in their course, I have thought to myself, can any
mountains, any continent, withstand such waste?
In this part of the valley, the mountains on each side were from 3000
to 6000 or 8000 feet high, with rounded outlines and steep bare flanks.
The general colour of the rock was dullish purple, and the
stratification very distinct. If the scenery was not beautiful, it was
remarkable and grand. We met during the day several herds of cattle,
which men were driving down from the higher valleys in the Cordillera.
This sign of the approaching winter hurried our steps, more than was
convenient for geologising. The house where we slept was situated at
the foot of a mountain, on the summit of which are the mines of S.
Pedro de Nolasko. Sir F. Head marvels how mines have been discovered in
such extraordinary situations, as the bleak summit of the mountain of
S. Pedro de Nolasko. In the first place, metallic veins in this country
are generally harder than the surrounding strata: hence, during the
gradual
wear of the hills, they project above the surface of the ground.
Secondly, almost every labourer, especially in the northern parts of
Chile, understands something about the appearance of ores. In the great
mining provinces of Coquimbo and Copiapó, firewood is very scarce, and
men search for it over every hill and dale; and by this means nearly
all the richest mines have there been discovered. Chanuncillo, from
which silver to the value of many hundred thousand pounds has been
raised in the course of a few years, was discovered by a man who threw
a stone at his loaded donkey, and thinking that it was very heavy, he
picked it up, and found it full of pure silver: the vein occurred at no
great distance, standing up like a wedge of metal. The miners, also,
taking a crowbar with them, often wander on Sundays over the mountains.
In this south part of Chile the men who drive cattle into the
Cordillera, and who frequent every ravine where there is a little
pasture, are the usual discoverers.
20_th._—As we ascended the valley, the vegetation, with the exception
of a few pretty alpine flowers, became exceedingly scanty; and of
quadrupeds, birds, or insects, scarcely one could be seen. The lofty
mountains, their summits marked with a few patches of snow, stood well
separated from each other; the valleys being filled up with an immense
thickness of stratified alluvium. The features in the scenery of the
Andes which struck me most, as contrasted with the other mountain
chains with which I am acquainted, were,—the flat fringes sometimes
expanding into narrow plains on each side of the valleys,—the bright
colours, chiefly red and purple, of the utterly bare and precipitous
hills of porphyry, the grand and continuous wall-like dikes,—the
plainly-divided strata which, where nearly vertical, formed the
picturesque and wild central pinnacles, but where less inclined,
composed the great massive mountains on the outskirts of the range,—and
lastly, the smooth conical piles of fine and brightly coloured
detritus, which sloped up at a high angle from the base of the
mountains, sometimes to a height of more than 2000 feet.
I frequently observed, both in Tierra del Fuego and within the Andes,
that where the rock was covered during the greater part of the year
with snow, it was shivered in a very extraordinary manner into small
angular fragments. Scoresby[1] has
observed the same fact in Spitzbergen. The case appears to me rather
obscure: for that part of the mountain which is protected by a mantle
of snow must be less subject to repeated and great changes of
temperature than any other part. I have sometimes thought that the
earth and fragments of stone on the surface were perhaps less
effectually removed by slowly percolating snow-water[2] than by rain,
and therefore that the appearance of a quicker disintegration of the
solid rock under the snow was deceptive. Whatever the cause may be, the
quantity of crumbling stone on the Cordillera is very great.
Occasionally in the spring great masses of this detritus slide down the
mountains, and cover the snow-drifts in the valleys, thus forming
natural ice-houses. We rode over one, the height of which was far below
the limit of perpetual snow.
[1] Scoresby’s _Arctic Regions_, vol. i, p. 122.
[2] I have heard it remarked in Shropshire that the water, when the
Severn is flooded from long-continued rain, is much more turbid than
when it proceeds from the snow melting on the Welsh mountains.
D’Orbigny (tome i, 1 p. 184), in explaining the cause of the various
colours of the rivers in South America, remarks that those with blue
or clear water have their source in the Cordillera, where the snow
melts.
As the evening drew to a close, we reached a singular basin-like plain,
called the Valle del Yeso. It was covered by a little dry pasture, and
we had the pleasant sight of a herd of cattle amidst the surrounding
rocky deserts. The valley takes its name of Yeso from a great bed, I
should think at least 2000 feet thick, of white, and in some parts
quite pure, gypsum. We slept with a party of men, who were employed in
loading mules with this substance, which is used in the manufacture of
wine. We set out early in the morning (21st), and continued to follow
the course of the river, which had become very small, till we arrived
at the foot of the ridge that separates the waters flowing into the
Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. The road, which as yet had been good with
a steady but very gradual ascent, now changed into a steep zigzag track
up the great range dividing the republics of Chile and Mendoza.
I will here give a very brief sketch of the geology of the several
parallel lines forming the Cordillera. Of these lines, there are two
considerably higher than the others; namely, on the Chilian side, the
Peuquenes ridge, which, where the road crosses it, is 13,210 feet above
the sea; and the Portillo ridge, on the Mendoza side, which is 14,305
feet. The lower beds
of the Peuquenes ridge, and of the several great lines to the westward
of it, are composed of a vast pile, many thousand feet in thickness, of
porphyries which have flowed as submarine lavas, alternating with
angular and rounded fragments of the same rocks, thrown out of the
submarine craters. These alternating masses are covered in the central
parts by a great thickness of red sandstone, conglomerate, and
calcareous clay-slate, associated with, and passing into, prodigious
beds of gypsum. In these upper beds shells are tolerably frequent; and
they belong to about the period of the lower chalk of Europe. It is an
old story, but not the less wonderful, to hear of shells which were
once crawling on the bottom of the sea, now standing nearly 14,000 feet
above its level. The lower beds in this great pile of strata have been
dislocated, baked, crystallised and almost blended together, through
the agency of mountain masses of a peculiar white soda-granitic rock.
The other main line, namely, that of the Portillo, is of a totally
different formation: it consists chiefly of grand bare pinnacles of a
red potash-granite, which low down on the western flank are covered by
a sandstone, converted by the former heat into a quartz-rock. On the
quartz there rest beds of a conglomerate several thousand feet in
thickness, which have been upheaved by the red granite, and dip at an
angle of 45° towards the Peuquenes line. I was astonished to find that
this conglomerate was partly composed of pebbles, derived from the
rocks, with their fossil shells, of the Peuquenes range; and partly of
red potash-granite, like that of the Portillo. Hence we must conclude
that both the Peuquenes and Portillo ranges were partially upheaved and
exposed to wear and tear when the conglomerate was forming; but as the
beds of the conglomerate have been thrown off at an angle of 45° by the
red Portillo granite (with the underlying sandstone baked by it), we
may feel sure that the greater part of the injection and upheaval of
the already partially formed Portillo line took place after the
accumulation of the conglomerate, and long after the elevation of the
Peuquenes ridge. So that the Portillo, the loftiest line in this part
of the Cordillera, is not so old as the less lofty line of the
Peuquenes. Evidence derived from an inclined stream of lava at the
eastern base of the Portillo might be adduced to show that it owes part
of
its great height to elevations of a still later date. Looking to its
earliest origin, the red granite seems to have been injected on an
ancient pre-existing line of white granite and mica-slate. In most
parts, perhaps in all parts, of the Cordillera, it may be concluded
that each line has been formed by repeated upheavals and injections;
and that the several parallel lines are of different ages. Only thus
can we gain time at all sufficient to explain the truly astonishing
amount of denudation which these great, though comparatively with most
other ranges recent, mountains have suffered.
Finally, the shells in the Peuquenes or oldest ridge prove, as before
remarked, that it has been upraised 14,000 feet since a Secondary
period, which in Europe we are accustomed to consider as far from
ancient; but since these shells lived in a moderately deep sea, it can
be shown that the area now occupied by the Cordillera must have
subsided several thousand feet—in northern Chile as much as 6000
feet—so as to have allowed that amount of submarine strata to have been
heaped on the bed on which the shells lived. The proof is the same with
that by which it was shown that, at a much later period since the
tertiary shells of Patagonia lived, there must have been there a
subsidence of several hundred feet, as well as an ensuing elevation.
Daily it is forced home on the mind of the geologist that nothing, not
even the wind that blows, is so unstable as the level of the crust of
this earth.
I will make only one other geological remark: although the Portillo
chain is here higher than the Peuquenes, the waters, draining the
intermediate valleys, have burst through it. The same fact, on a
grander scale, has been remarked in the eastern and loftiest line of
the Bolivian Cordillera, through which the rivers pass: analogous facts
have also been observed in other quarters of the world. On the
supposition of the subsequent and gradual elevation of the Portillo
line, this can be understood; for a chain of islets would at first
appear, and, as these were lifted up, the tides would be always wearing
deeper and broader channels between them. At the present day, even in
the most retired Sounds on the coast of Tierra del Fuego, the currents
in the transverse breaks which connect the longitudinal channels are
very strong, so that in one transverse channel even a small vessel
under sail was whirled round and round.
About noon we began the tedious ascent of the Peuquenes ridge, and then
for the first time experienced some little difficulty in our
respiration. The mules would halt every fifty yards, and after resting
for a few seconds the poor willing animals started of their own accord
again. The short breathing from the rarefied atmosphere is called by
the Chilenos “puna;” and they have most ridiculous notions concerning
its origin. Some say “All the waters here have puna;” others that
“where there is snow there is puna;”—and this no doubt is true. The
only sensation I experienced was a slight tightness across the head and
chest, like that felt on leaving a warm room and running quickly in
frosty weather. There was some imagination even in this; for upon
finding fossil shells on the highest ridge, I entirely forgot the puna
in my delight. Certainly the exertion of walking was extremely great,
and the respiration became deep and laborious: I am told that in Potosi
(about 13,000 feet above the sea) strangers do not become thoroughly
accustomed to the atmosphere for an entire year. The inhabitants all
recommend onions for the puna; as this vegetable has sometimes been
given in Europe for pectoral complaints, it may possibly be of real
service:—for my part I found nothing so good as the fossil shells!
When about half-way up we met a large party with seventy loaded mules.
It was interesting to hear the wild cries of the muleteers, and to
watch the long descending string of the animals; they appeared so
diminutive, there being nothing but the black mountains with which they
could be compared. When near the summit, the wind, as generally
happens, was impetuous and extremely cold. On each side of the ridge we
had to pass over broad bands of perpetual snow, which were now soon to
be covered by a fresh layer. When we reached the crest and looked
backwards, a glorious view was presented. The atmosphere resplendently
clear; the sky an intense blue; the profound valleys; the wild broken
forms: the heaps of ruins, piled up during the lapse of ages; the
bright-coloured rocks, contrasted with the quiet mountains of snow, all
these together produced a scene no one could have imagined. Neither
plant nor bird, excepting a few condors wheeling around the higher
pinnacles, distracted my attention from the inanimate mass. I felt glad
that I was alone: it was like
watching a thunderstorm, or hearing in full orchestra a chorus of the
_Messiah._
On several patches of the snow I found the Protococcus nivalis, or red
snow, so well known from the accounts of Arctic navigators. My
attention was called to it by observing the footsteps of the mules
stained a pale red, as if their hoofs had been slightly bloody. I at
first thought that it was owing to dust blown from the surrounding
mountains of red porphyry; for from the magnifying power of the
crystals of snow, the groups of these microscopical plants appeared
like coarse particles. The snow was coloured only where it had thawed
very rapidly, or had been accidentally crushed. A little rubbed on
paper gave it a faint rose tinge mingled with a little brick-red. I
afterwards scraped some off the paper, and found that it consisted of
groups of little spheres in colourless cases, each the thousandth part
of an inch in diameter.
The wind on the crest of the Peuquenes, as just remarked, is generally
impetuous and very cold: it is said[3] to blow steadily from the
westward or Pacific side. As the observations have been chiefly made in
summer, this wind must be an upper and return current. The Peak of
Teneriffe, with a less elevation, and situated in lat. 28°, in like
manner falls within an upper return stream. At first it appears rather
surprising that the trade-wind along the northern parts of Chile and on
the coast of Peru should blow in so very southerly a direction as it
does; but when we reflect that the Cordillera, running in a north and
south line, intercepts, like a great wall, the entire depth of the
lower atmospheric current, we can easily see that the trade-wind must
be drawn northward, following the line of mountains, towards the
equatorial regions, and thus lose part of that easterly movement which
it otherwise would have gained from the earth’s rotation. At Mendoza,
on the eastern foot of the Andes, the climate is said to be subject to
long calms, and to frequent though false appearances of gathering
rain-storms: we may imagine that the wind, which coming from the
eastward is thus banked up by the line of mountains, would become
stagnant and irregular in its movements.
[3] Dr. Gillies in _Journ. of Nat. and Geograph. Science_, Aug. 1830.
This author gives the heights of the Passes.
Having crossed the Peuquenes, we descended into a
mountainous country, intermediate between the two main ranges, and then
took up our quarters for the night. We were now in the republic of
Mendoza. The elevation was probably not under 11,000 feet, and the
vegetation in consequence exceedingly scanty. The root of a small
scrubby plant served as fuel, but it made a miserable fire, and the
wind was piercingly cold. Being quite tired with my days work, I made
up my bed as quickly as I could, and went to sleep. About midnight I
observed the sky became suddenly clouded: I awakened the arriero to
know if there was any danger of bad weather; but he said that without
thunder and lightning there was no risk of a heavy snow-storm. The
peril is imminent, and the difficulty of subsequent escape great, to
any one overtaken by bad weather between the two ranges. A certain cave
offers the only place of refuge: Mr. Caldcleugh, who crossed on this
same day of the month, was detained there for some time by a heavy fall
of snow. Casuchas, or houses of refuge, have not been built in this
pass as in that of Uspallata, and therefore, during the autumn, the
Portillo is little frequented. I may here remark that within the main
Cordillera rain never falls, for during the summer the sky is
cloudless, and in winter snow-storms alone occur.
At the place where we slept water necessarily boiled, from the
diminished pressure of the atmosphere, at a lower temperature than it
does in a less lofty country; the case being the converse of that of a
Papin’s digester. Hence the potatoes, after remaining for some hours in
the boiling water, were nearly as hard as ever. The pot was left on the
fire all night, and next morning it was boiled again, but yet the
potatoes were not cooked. I found out this by overhearing my two
companions discussing the cause, they had come to the simple conclusion
“that the cursed pot (which was a new one) did not choose to boil
potatoes.”
_March_ 22_nd._—After eating our potato-less breakfast, we travelled
across the intermediate tract to the foot of the Portillo range. In the
middle of summer cattle are brought up here to graze; but they had now
all been removed: even the greater number of the guanacos had decamped,
knowing well that if overtaken here by a snow-storm, they would be
caught in a trap. We had a fine view of a mass of mountains called
Tupungato, the whole clothed with unbroken snow, in the midst of which
there was a blue patch, no doubt a glacier;—a circumstance of rare
occurrence in these mountains. Now commenced a heavy and long climb,
similar to that of the Peuquenes. Bold conical hills of red granite
rose on each hand; in the valleys there were several broad fields of
perpetual snow. These frozen masses, during the process of thawing, had
in some parts been converted into pinnacles or columns,[4] which, as
they were high and close together, made it difficult for the cargo
mules to pass. On one of these columns of ice a frozen horse was
sticking as on a pedestal, but with its hind legs straight up in the
air. The animal, I suppose, must have fallen with its head downward
into a hole, when the snow was continuous, and afterwards the
surrounding parts must have been removed by the thaw.
[4] This structure in frozen snow was long since observed by Scoresby
in the icebergs near Spitzbergen, and, lately, with more care, by
Colonel Jackson (_Journ. of Geograph. Soc._ vol. v, p. 12) on the
Neva. Mr. Lyell (_Principles_, vol. iv, p. 360 has compared the
fissures, by which the columnar structure seems to be determined, to
the joints that traverse nearly all rocks, but which are best seen in
the non-stratified masses. I may observe that in the case of the
frozen snow the columnar structure must be owing to a “metamorphic”
action, and not to a process during _deposition._
When nearly on the crest of the Portillo, we were enveloped in a
falling cloud of minute frozen spicula. This was very unfortunate, as
it continued the whole day, and quite intercepted our view. The pass
takes its name of Portillo from a narrow cleft or doorway on the
highest ridge, through which the road passes. From this point, on a
clear day, those vast plains which uninterruptedly extend to the
Atlantic Ocean can be seen. We descended to the upper limit of
vegetation, and found good quarters for the night under the shelter of
some large fragments of rock. We met here some passengers, who made
anxious inquiries about the state of the road. Shortly after it was
dark the clouds suddenly cleared away, and the effect was quite
magical. The great mountains, bright with the full moon, seemed
impending over us on all sides, as over a deep crevice: one morning,
very early, I witnessed the same striking effect. As soon as the clouds
were dispersed it froze severely; but as there was no wind, we slept
very comfortably.
The increased brilliancy of the moon and stars at this elevation, owing
to the perfect transparency of the atmosphere, was
very remarkable. Travellers having observed the difficulty of judging
heights and distances amidst lofty mountains, have generally attributed
it to the absence of objects of comparison. It appears to me, that it
is fully as much owing to the transparency of the air confounding
objects at different distances, and likewise partly to the novelty of
an unusual degree of fatigue arising from a little exertion,—habit
being thus opposed to the evidence of the senses. I am sure that this
extreme clearness of the air gives a peculiar character to the
landscape, all objects appearing to be brought nearly into one plane,
as in a drawing or panorama. The transparency is, I presume, owing to
the equable and high state of atmospheric dryness. This dryness was
shown by the manner in which woodwork shrank (as I soon found by the
trouble my geological hammer gave me); by articles of food, such as
bread and sugar, becoming extremely hard; and by the preservation of
the skin and parts of the flesh of the beasts which had perished on the
road. To the same cause we must attribute the singular facility with
which electricity is excited. My flannel-waistcoat, when rubbed in the
dark, appeared as if it had been washed with phosphorus,—every hair on
a dog’s back crackled;—even the linen sheets, and leathern straps of
the saddle, when handled, emitted sparks.
_March_ 23_rd._—The descent on the eastern side of the Cordillera is
much shorter or steeper than on the Pacific side; in other words, the
mountains rise more abruptly from the plains than from the alpine
country of Chile. A level and brilliantly white sea of clouds was
stretched out beneath our feet, shutting out the view of the equally
level Pampas. We soon entered the band of clouds, and did not again
emerge from it that day. About noon, finding pasture for the animals
and bushes for firewood at Los Arenales, we stopped for the night. This
was near the uppermost limit of bushes, and the elevation, I suppose,
was between seven and eight thousand feet.
I was much struck with the marked difference between the vegetation of
these eastern valleys and those on the Chilian side: yet the climate,
as well as the kind of soil, is nearly the same, and the difference of
longitude very trifling. The same remark holds good with the
quadrupeds, and in a lesser degree with the birds and insects. I may
instance the mice, of which
I obtained thirteen species on the shores of the Atlantic, and five on
the Pacific, and not one of them is identical. We must except all those
species which habitually or occasionally frequent elevated mountains;
and certain birds, which range as far south as the Strait of Magellan.
This fact is in perfect accordance with the geological history of the
Andes; for these mountains have existed as a great barrier since the
present races of animals have appeared; and therefore, unless we
suppose the same species to have been created in two different places,
we ought not to expect any closer similarity between the organic beings
on the opposite sides of the Andes than on the opposite shores of the
ocean. In both cases, we must leave out of the question those kinds
which have been able to cross the barrier, whether of solid rock or
salt water.[5]
[5] This is merely an illustration of the admirable laws, first laid
down by Mr. Lyell, on the geographical distribution of animals, as
influenced by geological changes. The whole reasoning, of course, is
founded on the assumption of the immutability of species; otherwise
the difference in the species in the two regions might be considered
as superinduced during a length of time.
A great number of the plants and animals were absolutely the same as,
or most closely allied to, those of Patagonia. We here have the agouti,
bizcacha, three species of armadillo, the ostrich, certain kinds of
partridges and other birds, none of which are ever seen in Chile, but
are the characteristic animals of the desert plains of Patagonia. We
have likewise many of the same (to the eyes of a person who is not a
botanist) thorny stunted bushes, withered grass, and dwarf plants. Even
the black slowly crawling beetles are closely similar, and some, I
believe, on rigorous examination, absolutely identical. It had always
been to me a subject of regret that we were unavoidably compelled to
give up the ascent of the S. Cruz river before reaching the mountains:
I always had a latent hope of meeting with some great change in the
features of the country; but I now feel sure that it would only have
been following the plains of Patagonia up a mountainous ascent.
_March_ 24_th._—Early in the morning I climbed up a mountain on one
side of the valley, and enjoyed a far extended view over the Pampas.
This was a spectacle to which I had always looked forward with
interest, but I was disappointed: at the first glance it much resembled
a distant view of the ocean, but in the northern parts many
irregularities were soon
distinguishable. The most striking feature consisted in the rivers,
which, facing the rising sun, glittered like silver threads, till lost
in the immensity of the distance. At mid-day we descended the valley,
and reached a hovel, where an officer and three soldiers were posted to
examine passports. One of these men was a thoroughbred Pampas Indian:
he was kept much for the same purpose as a bloodhound, to track out any
person who might pass by secretly, either on foot or horseback. Some
years ago a passenger endeavoured to escape detection by making a long
circuit over a neighbouring mountain; but this Indian, having by chance
crossed his track, followed it for the whole day over dry and very
stony hills, till at last he came on his prey hidden in a gully. We
here heard that the silvery clouds, which we had admired from the
bright region above, had poured down torrents of rain. The valley from
this point gradually opened, and the hills became mere water-worn
hillocks compared to the giants behind; it then expanded into a gently
sloping plain of shingle, covered with low trees and bushes. This
talus, although appearing narrow, must be nearly ten miles wide before
it blends into the apparently dead level Pampas. We passed the only
house in this neighbourhood, the Estancia of Chaquaio: and at sunset we
pulled up in the first snug corner, and there bivouacked.
_March_ 25_th._—I was reminded of the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, by seeing
the disk of the rising sun intersected by an horizon level as that of
the ocean. During the night a heavy dew fell, a circumstance which we
did not experience within the Cordillera. The road proceeded for some
distance due east across a low swamp; then meeting the dry plain, it
turned to the north towards Mendoza. The distance is two very long
days’ journey. Our first day’s journey was called fourteen leagues to
Estacado, and the second seventeen to Luxan, near Mendoza. The whole
distance is over a level desert plain, with not more than two or three
houses. The sun was exceedingly powerful, and the ride devoid of all
interest. There is very little water in this “traversia,” and in our
second day’s journey we found only one little pool. Little water flows
from the mountains, and it soon becomes absorbed by the dry and porous
soil; so that, although we travelled at the distance of only ten or
fifteen miles from the
outer range of the Cordillera, we did not cross a single stream. In
many parts the ground was incrusted with a saline efflorescence; hence
we had the same salt-loving plants which are common near Bahia Blanca.
The landscape has a uniform character from the Strait of Magellan,
along the whole eastern coast of Patagonia, to the Rio Colorado; and it
appears that the same kind of country extends inland from this river,
in a sweeping line as far as San Luis, and perhaps even farther north.
To the eastward of this curved line lies the basin of the comparatively
damp and green plains of Buenos Ayres. The sterile plains of Mendoza
and Patagonia consist of a bed of shingle, worn smooth and accumulated
by the waves of the sea; while the Pampas, covered by thistles, clover,
and grass, have been formed by the ancient estuary mud of the Plata.
After our two days’ tedious journey, it was refreshing to see in the
distance the rows of poplars and willows growing round the village and
river of Luxan. Shortly before we arrived at this place we observed to
the south a ragged cloud of a dark reddish-brown colour. At first we
thought that it was smoke from some great fire on the plains; but we
soon found that it was a swarm of locusts. They were flying northward;
and with the aid of a light breeze, they overtook us at a rate of ten
or fifteen miles an hour. The main body filled the air from a height of
twenty feet to that, as it appeared, of two or three thousand above the
ground; “and the sound of their wings was as the sound of chariots of
many horses running to battle:” or rather, I should say, like a strong
breeze passing through the rigging of a ship. The sky, seen through the
advanced guard, appeared like a mezzotinto engraving, but the main body
was impervious to sight; they were not, however, so thick together, but
that they could escape a stick waved backwards and forwards. When they
alighted, they were more numerous than the leaves in the field, and the
surface became reddish instead of being green: the swarm having once
alighted, the individuals flew from side to side in all directions.
Locusts are not an uncommon pest in this country: already during this
season several smaller swarms had come up from the south, where, as
apparently in all other parts of the world, they are bred in the
deserts. The poor cottagers in vain attempted by lighting fires, by
shouts, and by waving branches, to avert the attack. This
species of locust closely resembles, and perhaps is identical with, the
famous Gryllus migratorius of the East.
We crossed the Luxan, which is a river of considerable size, though its
course towards the sea-coast is very imperfectly known: it is even
doubtful whether, in passing over the plains, it is not evaporated and
lost. We slept in the village of Luxan, which is a small place
surrounded by gardens, and forms the most southern cultivated district
in the Province of Mendoza; it is five leagues south of the capital. At
night I experienced an attack (for it deserves no less a name) of the
_Benchuca_, a species of Reduvius, the great black bug of the Pampas.
It is most disgusting to feel soft wingless insects, about an inch
long, crawling over one’s body. Before sucking they are quite thin, but
afterwards they become round and bloated with blood, and in this state
are easily crushed. One which I caught at Iquique (for they are found
in Chile and Peru) was very empty. When placed on a table, and though
surrounded by people, if a finger was presented, the bold insect would
immediately protrude its sucker, make a charge, and if allowed, draw
blood. No pain was caused by the wound. It was curious to watch its
body during the act of sucking, as in less than ten minutes it changed
from being as flat as a wafer to a globular form. This one feast, for
which the benchuca was indebted to one of the officers, kept it fat
during four whole months; but, after the first fortnight, it was quite
ready to have another suck.
_March_ 27_th._—We rode on to Mendoza. The country was beautifully
cultivated, and resembled Chile. This neighbourhood is celebrated for
its fruit; and certainly nothing could appear more flourishing than the
vineyards and the orchards of figs, peaches, and olives. We bought
water-melons nearly twice as large as a man’s head, most deliciously
cool and well-flavoured, for a halfpenny apiece; and for the value of
threepence, half a wheelbarrowful of peaches. The cultivated and
enclosed part of this province is very small; there is little more than
that which we passed through between Luxan and the Capital. The land,
as in Chile, owes its fertility entirely to artificial irrigation; and
it is really wonderful to observe how extraordinarily productive a
barren traversia is thus rendered.
We stayed the ensuing day in Mendoza. The prosperity of the place has
much declined of late years. The inhabitants
say “it is good to live in, but very bad to grow rich in.” The lower
orders have the lounging, reckless manners of the Gauchos of the
Pampas; and their dress, riding-gear, and habits of life, are nearly
the same. To my mind the town had a stupid, forlorn aspect. Neither the
boasted alameda, nor the scenery, is at all comparable with that of
Santiago; but to those who, coming from Buenos Ayres, have just crossed
the unvaried Pampas, the gardens and orchards must appear delightful.
Sir F. Head, speaking of the inhabitants, says, “They eat their
dinners, and it is so very hot, they go to sleep—and could they do
better?” I quite agree with Sir F. Head: the happy doom of the
Mendozinos is to eat, sleep and be idle.
_March_ 29_th._—We set out on our return to Chile by the Uspallata pass
situated north of Mendoza. We had to cross a long and most sterile
traversia of fifteen leagues. The soil in parts was absolutely bare, in
others covered by numberless dwarf cacti, armed with formidable spines,
and called by the inhabitants “little lions.” There were, also, a few
low bushes. Although the plain is nearly three thousand feet above the
sea, the sun was very powerful; and the heat, as well as the clouds of
impalpable dust, rendered the travelling extremely irksome. Our course
during the day lay nearly parallel to the Cordillera, but gradually
approaching them. Before sunset we entered one of the wide valleys, or
rather bays, which open on the plain: this soon narrowed into a ravine,
where a little higher up the house of Villa Vicencio is situated. As we
had ridden all day without a drop of water, both our mules and selves
were very thirsty, and we looked out anxiously for the stream which
flows down this valley. It was curious to observe how gradually the
water made its appearance: on the plain the course was quite dry; by
degrees it became a little damper; then puddles of water appeared;
these soon became connected; and at Villa Vicencio there was a nice
little rivulet.
30_th._—The solitary hovel which bears the imposing name of Villa
Vicencio has been mentioned by every traveller who has crossed the
Andes. I stayed here and at some neighbouring mines during the two
succeeding days. The geology of the surrounding country is very
curious. The Uspallata range is separated from the main Cordillera by a
long narrow plain or
basin, like those so often mentioned in Chile, but higher, being six
thousand feet above the sea. This range has nearly the same
geographical position with respect to the Cordillera, which the
gigantic Portillo line has, but it is of a totally different origin: it
consists of various kinds of submarine lava, alternating with volcanic
sandstones and other remarkable sedimentary deposits; the whole having
a very close resemblance to some of the tertiary beds on the shores of
the Pacific. From this resemblance I expected to find silicified wood,
which is generally characteristic of those formations. I was gratified
in a very extraordinary manner. In the central part of the range, at an
elevation of about seven thousand feet, I observed on a bare slope some
snow-white projecting columns. These were petrified trees, eleven being
silicified, and from thirty to forty converted into
coarsely-crystallised white calcareous spar. They were abruptly broken
off, the upright stumps projecting a few feet above the ground. The
trunks measured from three to five feet each in circumference. They
stood a little way apart from each other, but the whole formed one
group. Mr. Robert Brown has been kind enough to examine the wood: he
says it belongs to the fir tribe, partaking of the character of the
Araucarian family, but with some curious points of affinity with the
yew. The volcanic sandstone in which the trees were embedded, and from
the lower part of which they must have sprung, had accumulated in
successive thin layers around their trunks; and the stone yet retained
the impression of the bark.
It required little geological practice to interpret the marvellous
story which this scene at once unfolded; though I confess I was at
first so much astonished that I could scarcely believe the plainest
evidence. I saw the spot where a cluster of fine trees once waved their
branches on the shores of the Atlantic, when that ocean (now driven
back 700 miles) came to the foot of the Andes. I saw that they had
sprung from a volcanic soil which had been raised above the level of
the sea, and that subsequently this dry land, with its upright trees,
had been let down into the depths of the ocean. In these depths, the
formerly dry land was covered by sedimentary beds, and these again by
enormous streams of submarine lava—one such mass attaining the
thickness of a thousand feet; and these deluges of molten stone and
aqueous deposits five times alternately had
been spread out. The ocean which received such thick masses must have
been profoundly deep; but again the subterranean forces exerted
themselves, and I now beheld the bed of that ocean, forming a chain of
mountains more than seven thousand feet in height. Nor had those
antagonistic forces been dormant, which are always at work wearing down
the surface of the land; the great piles of strata had been intersected
by many wide valleys, and the trees, now changed into silex, were
exposed projecting from the volcanic soil, now changed into rock,
whence formerly, in a green and budding state, they had raised their
lofty heads. Now, all is utterly irreclaimable and desert; even the
lichen cannot adhere to the stony casts of former trees. Vast, and
scarcely comprehensible as such changes must ever appear, yet they have
all occurred within a period, recent when compared with the history of
the Cordillera; and the Cordillera itself is absolutely modern as
compared with many of the fossiliferous strata of Europe and America.
_April_ 1_st._—We crossed the Uspallata range, and at night slept at
the custom-house—the only inhabited spot on the plain. Shortly before
leaving the mountains, there was a very extraordinary view; red,
purple, green, and quite white sedimentary rocks, alternating with
black lavas, were broken up and thrown into all kinds of disorder by
masses of porphyry of every shade of colour, from dark brown to the
brightest lilac. It was the first view I ever saw, which really
resembled those pretty sections which geologists make of the inside of
the earth.
The next day we crossed the plain, and followed the course of the same
great mountain stream which flows by Luxan. Here it was a furious
torrent, quite impassable, and appeared larger than in the low country,
as was the case with the rivulet of Villa Vicencio. On the evening of
the succeeding day we reached the Rio de las Vacas, which is considered
the worst stream in the Cordillera to cross. As all these rivers have a
rapid and short course, and are formed by the melting of the snow, the
hour of the day makes a considerable difference in their volume. In the
evening the stream is muddy and full, but about daybreak it becomes
clearer and much less impetuous. This we found to be the case with the
Rio Vacas, and in the morning we crossed it with little difficulty.
The scenery thus far was very uninteresting, compared with that of the
Portillo pass. Little can be seen beyond the bare walls of the one
grand, flat-bottomed valley, which the road follows up to the highest
crest. The valley and the huge rocky mountains are extremely barren:
during the two previous nights the poor mules had absolutely nothing to
eat, for excepting a few low resinous bushes, scarcely a plant can be
seen. In the course of this day we crossed some of the worst passes in
the Cordillera, but their danger has been much exaggerated. I was told
that if I attempted to pass on foot, my head would turn giddy, and that
there was no room to dismount; but I did not see a place where any one
might not have walked over backwards, or got off his mule on either
side. One of the bad passes, called _las Animas_ (the Souls), I had
crossed, and did not find out till a day afterwards that it was one of
the awful dangers. No doubt there are many parts in which, if the mule
should stumble, the rider would be hurled down a great precipice; but
of this there is little chance. I daresay, in the spring, the
“laderas,” or roads, which each year are formed anew across the piles
of fallen detritus, are very bad; but from what I saw, I suspect the
real danger is nothing. With cargo-mules the case is rather different,
for the loads project so far, that the animals, occasionally running
against each other, or against a point of rock, lose their balance, and
are thrown down the precipices. In crossing the rivers I can well
believe that the difficulty may be very great: at this season there was
little trouble, but in the summer they must be very hazardous. I can
quite imagine, as Sir F. Head describes, the different expressions of
those who _have_ passed the gulf, and those who _are_ passing. I never
heard of any man being drowned, but with loaded mules it frequently
happens. The arriero tells you to show your mule the best line, and
then allow her to cross as she likes: the cargo-mule takes a bad line,
and is often lost.
_April_ 4_th._—From the Rio de las Vacas to the Puente del Incas, half
a day’s journey. As there was pasture for the mules, and geology for
me, we bivouacked here for the night. When one hears of a natural
Bridge, one pictures to oneself some deep and narrow ravine, across
which a bold mass of rock has fallen; or a great arch hollowed out like
the vault of a cavern. Instead of this, the Incas Bridge consists of a
crust of stratified shingle
cemented together by the deposits of the neighbouring hot springs. It
appears as if the stream had scooped out a channel on one side, leaving
an overhanging ledge, which was met by earth and stones falling down
from the opposite cliff. Certainly an oblique junction, as would happen
in such a case, was very distinct on one side. The Bridge of the Incas
is by no means worthy of the great monarchs whose name it bears.
Bridge of the Incas—Uspallata Pass
5_th._—We had a long day’s ride across the central ridge, from the
Incas Bridge to the Ojos del Agua, which are situated near the lowest
_casucha_ on the Chilian side. These casuchas
are round little towers, with steps outside to reach the floor, which
is raised some feet above the ground on account of the snow-drifts.
They are eight in number, and under the Spanish government were kept
during the winter well stored with food and charcoal, and each courier
had a master-key. Now they only answer the purpose of caves, or rather
dungeons. Seated on some little eminence, they are not, however, ill
suited to the surrounding scene of desolation. The zigzag ascent of the
Cumbre, or the partition of the waters, was very steep and tedious; its
height, according to Mr. Pentland, is 12,454 feet. The road did not
pass over any perpetual snow, although there were patches of it on both
hands. The wind on the summit was exceedingly cold, but it was
impossible not to stop for a few minutes to admire, again and again,
the colour of the heavens, and the brilliant transparency of the
atmosphere. The scenery was grand: to the westward there was a fine
chaos of mountains, divided by profound ravines. Some snow generally
falls before this period of the season, and it has even happened that
the Cordillera have been finally closed by this time. But we were most
fortunate. The sky, by night and by day, was cloudless, excepting a few
round little masses of vapour, that floated over the highest pinnacles.
I have often seen these islets in the sky, marking the position of the
Cordillera, when the far-distant mountains have been hidden beneath the
horizon.
_April_ 6_th._—In the morning we found some thief had stolen one of our
mules, and the bell of the madrina. We therefore rode only two or three
miles down the valley, and stayed there the ensuing day in hopes of
recovering the mule, which the arriero thought had been hidden in some
ravine. The scenery in this part had assumed a Chilian character: the
lower sides of the mountains, dotted over with the pale evergreen
Quillay tree, and with the great chandelier-like cactus, are certainly
more to be admired than the bare eastern valleys; but I cannot quite
agree with the admiration expressed by some travellers. The extreme
pleasure, I suspect, is chiefly owing to the prospect of a good fire
and of a good supper, after escaping from the cold regions above: and I
am sure I most heartily participated in these feelings.
8_th._—We left the valley of the Aconcagua, by which we
had descended, and reached in the evening a cottage near the Villa de
St. Rosa. The fertility of the plain was delightful: the autumn being
advanced, the leaves of many of the fruit-trees were falling; and of
the labourers,—some were busy in drying figs and peaches on the roofs
of their cottages, while others were gathering the grapes from the
vineyards. It was a pretty scene; but I missed that pensive stillness
which makes the autumn in England indeed the evening of the year. On
the 10th we reached Santiago, where I received a very kind and
hospitable reception from Mr. Caldcleugh. My excursion only cost me
twenty-four days, and never did I more deeply enjoy an equal space of
time. A few days afterwards I returned to Mr. Corfield’s house at
Valparaiso.
[Illustration: Lima and San Lorenzo]
Chapter XVI
Coast-road to Coquimbo—Great loads carried by the
miners—Coquimbo—Earthquake—Step-formed terraces—Absence of recent
deposits—Contemporaneousness of the Tertiary formations—Excursion up
the valley—Road to Guasco—Deserts—Valley of Copiapó—Rain and
Earthquakes—Hydrophobia—The Despoblado—Indian ruins—Probable change of
climate—River-bed arched by an earthquake—Cold gales of wind—Noises
from a hill—Iquique—Salt alluvium—Nitrate of soda—Lima—Unhealthy
country—Ruins of Callao, overthrown by an earthquake—Recent
subsidence—Elevated shells on San Lorenzo, their decomposition—Plain
with embedded shells and fragments of pottery—Antiquity of the Indian
Race.
NORTHERN CHILE AND PERU.
_April_ 27_th._—I set out on a journey to Coquimbo, and thence through
Guasco to Copiapó, where Captain Fitz Roy kindly offered to pick me up
in the _Beagle._ The distance in a straight line along the shore
northward is only 420 miles; but my mode of travelling made it a very
long journey. I bought
four horses and two mules, the latter carrying the luggage on alternate
days. The six animals together only cost the value of twenty-five
pounds sterling, and at Copiapó I sold them again for twenty-three. We
travelled in the same independent manner as before, cooking our own
meals, and sleeping in the open air. As we rode towards the Viño del
Mar, I took a farewell view of Valparaiso, and admired its picturesque
appearance. For geological purposes I made a detour from the high road
to the foot of the Bell of Quillota. We passed through an alluvial
district rich in gold, to the neighbourhood of Limache, where we slept.
Washing for gold supports the inhabitants of numerous hovels, scattered
along the sides of each little rivulet; but, like all those whose gains
are uncertain, they are unthrifty in their habits, and consequently
poor.
28_th._—In the afternoon we arrived at a cottage at the foot of the
Bell mountain. The inhabitants were freeholders, which is not very
usual in Chile. They supported themselves on the produce of a garden
and a little field, but were very poor. Capital is here so deficient
that the people are obliged to sell their green corn while standing in
the field, in order to buy necessaries for the ensuing year. Wheat in
consequence was dearer in the very district of its production than at
Valparaiso, where the contractors live. The next day we joined the main
road to Coquimbo. At night there was a very light shower of rain: this
was the first drop that had fallen since the heavy rain of September
11th and 12th, which detained me a prisoner at the Baths of Cauquenes.
The interval was seven and a half months; but the rain this year in
Chile was rather later than usual. The distant Andes were now covered
by a thick mass of snow, and were a glorious sight.
_May_ 2_nd._—The road continued to follow the coast at no great
distance from the sea. The few trees and bushes which are common in
central Chile decreased rapidly in numbers, and were replaced by a tall
plant, something like a yucca in appearance. The surface of the
country, on a small scale, was singularly broken and irregular; abrupt
little peaks of rock rising out of small plains or basins. The indented
coast and the bottom of the neighbouring sea, studded with breakers,
would, if converted into dry land, present similar forms; and
such a conversion without doubt has taken place in the part over which
we rode.
3_rd._—Quilimari to Conchalee. The country became more and more barren.
In the valleys there was scarcely sufficient water for any irrigation;
and the intermediate land was quite bare, not supporting even goats. In
the spring, after the winter showers, a thin pasture rapidly springs
up, and cattle are then driven down from the Cordillera to graze for a
short time. It is curious to observe how the seeds of the grass and
other plants seem to accommodate themselves, as if by an acquired
habit, to the quantity of rain which falls upon different parts of this
coast. One shower far northward at Copiapó produces as great an effect
on the vegetation, as two at Guasco, and three or four in this
district. At Valparaiso a winter so dry as greatly to injure the
pasture, would at Guasco produce the most unusual abundance. Proceeding
northward, the quantity of rain does not appear to decrease in strict
proportion to the latitude. At Conchalee, which is only 67 miles north
of Valparaiso, rain is not expected till the end of May; whereas at
Valparaiso some generally falls early in April: the annual quantity is
likewise small in proportion to the lateness of the season at which it
commences.
4_th._—Finding the coast-road devoid of interest of any kind, we turned
inland towards the mining district and valley of Illapel. This valley,
like every other in Chile, is level, broad, and very fertile: it is
bordered on each side, either by cliffs of stratified shingle, or by
bare rocky mountains. Above the straight line of the uppermost
irrigating ditch, all is brown as on a high-road; while all below is of
as bright a green as verdigris, from the beds of alfarfa, a kind of
clover. We proceeded to Los Hornos, another mining district, where the
principal hill was drilled with holes, like a great ants’-nest. The
Chilian miners are a peculiar race of men in their habits. Living for
weeks together in the most desolate spots, when they descend to the
villages on feast-days there is no excess of extravagance into which
they do not run. They sometimes gain a considerable sum, and then, like
sailors with prize-money, they try how soon they can contrive to
squander it. They drink excessively, buy quantities of clothes, and in
a few days return penniless to their miserable abodes, there to work
harder
than beasts of burden. This thoughtlessness, as with sailors, is
evidently the result of a similar manner of life. Their daily food is
found them, and they acquire no habits of carefulness; moreover,
temptation and the means of yielding to it are placed in their power at
the same time. On the other hand, in Cornwall, and some other parts of
England, where the system of selling part of the vein is followed, the
miners, from being obliged to act and think for themselves, are a
singularly intelligent and well-conducted set of men.
The dress of the Chilian miner is peculiar and rather picturesque. He
wears a very long shirt of some dark-coloured baize, with a leathern
apron; the whole being fastened round his waist by a bright-coloured
sash. His trousers are very broad, and his small cap of scarlet cloth
is made to fit the head closely. We met a party of these miners in full
costume, carrying the body of one of their companions to be buried.
They marched at a very quick trot, four men supporting the corpse. One
set having run as hard as they could for about two hundred yards, were
relieved by four others, who had previously dashed on ahead on
horseback. Thus they proceeded, encouraging each other by wild cries:
altogether the scene formed a most strange funeral.
We continued travelling northward in a zigzag line; sometimes stopping
a day to geologise. The country was so thinly inhabited, and the track
so obscure, that we often had difficulty in finding our way. On the
12th I stayed at some mines. The ore in this case was not considered
particularly good, but from being abundant it was supposed the mine
would sell for about thirty or forty thousand dollars (that is, 6000 or
8000 pounds sterling); yet it had been bought by one of the English
Associations for an ounce of gold (£3 : 8s). The ore is yellow pyrites,
which, as I have already remarked, before the arrival of the English
was not supposed to contain a particle of copper. On a scale of profits
nearly as great as in the above instance, piles of cinders, abounding
with minute globules of metallic copper, were purchased; yet with these
advantages, the mining associations, as is well known, contrived to
lose immense sums of money. The folly of the greater number of the
commissioners and shareholders amounted to infatuation;—a thousand
pounds per annum given in some
cases to entertain the Chilian authorities; libraries of well-bound
geological books; miners brought out for particular metals, as tin,
which are not found in Chile; contracts to supply the miners with milk,
in parts where there are no cows; machinery, where it could not
possibly be used; and a hundred similar arrangements, bore witness to
our absurdity, and to this day afford amusement to the natives. Yet
there can be no doubt, that the same capital well employed in these
mines would have yielded an immense return: a confidential man of
business, a practical miner and assayer, would have been all that was
required.
Captain Head has described the wonderful load which the “Apires,” truly
beasts of burden, carry up from the deepest mines. I confess I thought
the account exaggerated; so that I was glad to take an opportunity of
weighing one of the loads, which I picked out by hazard. It required
considerable exertion on my part, when standing directly over it, to
lift it from the ground. The load was considered under weight when
found to be 197 pounds. The apire had carried this up eighty
perpendicular yards,—part of the way by a steep passage, but the
greater part up notched poles, placed in a zigzag line up the shaft.
According to the general regulation, the apire is not allowed to halt
for breath, except the mine is six hundred feet deep. The average load
is considered as rather more than 200 pounds, and I have been assured
that one of 300 pounds (twenty-two stone and a half) by way of a trial
has been brought up from the deepest mine! At this time the apires were
bringing up the usual load twelve times in the day; that is 2400 pounds
from eighty yards deep; and they were employed in the intervals in
breaking and picking ore.
These men, excepting from accidents, are healthy, and appear cheerful.
Their bodies are not very muscular. They rarely eat meat once a week,
and never oftener, and then only the hard dry charqui. Although with a
knowledge that the labour was voluntary, it was nevertheless quite
revolting to see the state in which they reached the mouth of the mine;
their bodies bent forward, leaning with their arms on the steps, their
legs bowed, their muscles quivering, the perspiration streaming from
their faces over their breasts, their nostrils distended, the corners
of their mouth forcibly drawn back, and the expulsion of their
breath most laborious. Each time they draw their breath they utter an
articulate cry of “ay-ay,” which ends in a sound rising from deep in
the chest, but shrill like the note of a fife. After staggering to the
pile of ore, they emptied the “carpacho;” in two or three seconds
recovering their breath, they wiped the sweat from their brows, and
apparently quite fresh descended the mine again at a quick pace. This
appears to me a wonderful instance of the amount of labour which habit,
for it can be nothing else, will enable a man to endure.
In the evening, talking with the _mayor-domo_ of these mines about the
number of foreigners now scattered over the whole country, he told me
that, though quite a young man, he remembers when he was a boy at
school at Coquimbo, a holiday being given to see the captain of an
English ship, who was brought to the city to speak to the governor. He
believes that nothing would have induced any boy in the school, himself
included, to have gone close to the Englishman; so deeply had they been
impressed with an idea of the heresy, contamination, and evil to be
derived from contact with such a person. To this day they relate the
atrocious actions of the bucaniers; and especially of one man, who took
away the figure of the Virgin Mary, and returned the year after for
that of St. Joseph, saying it was a pity the lady should not have a
husband. I heard also of an old lady who, at a dinner at Coquimbo,
remarked how wonderfully strange it was that she should have lived to
dine in the same room with an Englishman; for she remembered as a girl,
that twice, at the mere cry of “Los Ingleses,” every soul, carrying
what valuables they could, had taken to the mountains.
14_th._—We reached Coquimbo, where we stayed a few days. The town is
remarkable for nothing but its extreme quietness. It is said to contain
from 6000 to 8000 inhabitants. On the morning of the 17th it rained
lightly, the first time this year, for about five hours. The farmers,
who plant corn near the sea-coast where the atmosphere is more humid,
taking advantage of this shower, would break up the ground; after a
second they would put the seed in; and if a third shower should fall,
they would reap a good harvest in the spring. It was interesting to
watch the effect of this trifling amount of moisture. Twelve hours
afterwards the ground appeared as dry as ever; yet after an interval of
ten days all the hills were faintly tinged with green
patches; the grass being sparingly scattered in hair-like fibres a full
inch in length. Before this shower every part of the surface was bare
as on a high-road.
Coquimbo, Chile
In the evening, Captain Fitz Roy and myself were dining with Mr.
Edwards, an English resident well known for his hospitality by all who
have visited Coquimbo, when a sharp earthquake happened. I heard the
forecoming rumble, but from the screams of the ladies, the running of
the servants, and the rush of several of the gentlemen to the doorway,
I could not distinguish the motion. Some of the women afterwards were
crying with terror, and one gentleman said he should not be able to
sleep all night, or if he did, it would only be to dream of falling
houses. The father of this person had lately lost all his property at
Talcahuano, and he himself had only just escaped a falling roof at
Valparaiso in 1822. He mentioned a curious coincidence which then
happened: he was playing at cards, when a German, one of the party, got
up, and said he would never sit in a room in these countries with the
door shut, as, owing to his having done so, he had nearly lost his life
at Copiapó.
Accordingly he opened the door; and no sooner had he done this, than he
cried out, “Here it comes again!” and the famous shock commenced. The
whole party escaped. The danger in an earthquake is not from the time
lost in opening the door, but from the chance of its becoming jammed by
the movement of the walls.
It is impossible to be much surprised at the fear which natives and old
residents, though some of them known to be men of great command of
mind, so generally experience during earthquakes. I think, however,
this excess of panic may be partly attributed to a want of habit in
governing their fear, as it is not a feeling they are ashamed of.
Indeed, the natives do not like to see a person indifferent. I heard of
two Englishmen who, sleeping in the open air during a smart shock,
knowing that there was no danger, did not rise. The natives cried out
indignantly, “Look at those heretics, they do not even get out of their
beds!”
I spent some days in examining the step-formed terraces of shingle,
first noticed by Captain B. Hall, and believed by Mr. Lyell to have
been formed by the sea during the gradual rising of the land. This
certainly is the true explanation, for I found numerous shells of
existing species on these terraces. Five narrow, gently sloping,
fringe-like terraces rise one behind the other, and where best
developed are formed of shingle: they front the bay, and sweep up both
sides of the valley. At Guasco, north of Coquimbo, the phenomenon is
displayed on a much grander scale, so as to strike with surprise even
some of the inhabitants. The terraces are there much broader, and may
be called plains, in some parts there are six of them, but generally
only five; they run up the valley for thirty-seven miles from the
coast. These step-formed terraces or fringes closely resemble those in
the valley of S. Cruz, and, except in being on a smaller scale, those
great ones along the whole coast-line of Patagonia. They have
undoubtedly been formed by the denuding power of the sea, during long
periods of rest in the gradual elevation of the continent.
Shells of many existing species not only lie on the surface of the
terraces at Coquimbo (to a height of 250 feet), but are embedded in a
friable calcareous rock, which in some places is
as much as between twenty and thirty feet in thickness, but is of
little extent. These modern beds rest on an ancient tertiary formation
containing shells, apparently all extinct. Although I examined so many
hundred miles of coast on the Pacific, as well as Atlantic side of the
continent, I found no regular strata containing sea-shells of recent
species, excepting at this place, and at a few points northward on the
road to Guasco. This fact appears to me highly remarkable; for the
explanation generally given by geologists, of the absence in any
district of stratified fossiliferous deposits of a given period,
namely, that the surface then existed as dry land, is not here
applicable; for we know from the shells strewed on the surface and
embedded in loose sand or mould, that the land for thousands of miles
along both coasts has lately been submerged. The explanation, no doubt,
must be sought in the fact, that the whole southern part of the
continent has been for a long time slowly rising; and therefore that
all matter deposited along shore in shallow water must have been soon
brought up and slowly exposed to the wearing action of the sea-beach;
and it is only in comparatively shallow water that the greater number
of marine organic beings can flourish, and in such water it is
obviously impossible that strata of any great thickness can accumulate.
To show the vast power of the wearing action of sea-beaches, we need
only appeal to the great cliffs along the present coast of Patagonia,
and to the escarpments or ancient sea-cliffs at different levels, one
above another, on that same line of coast.
The old underlying tertiary formation at Coquimbo appears to be of
about the same age with several deposits on the coast of Chile (of
which that of Navedad is the principal one), and with the great
formation of Patagonia. Both at Navedad and in Patagonia there is
evidence, that since the shells (a list of which has been seen by
Professor E. Forbes) there intombed were living, there has been a
subsidence of several hundred feet, as well as an ensuing elevation. It
may naturally be asked how it comes that although no extensive
fossiliferous deposits of the recent period, nor of any period
intermediate between it and the ancient tertiary epoch, have been
preserved on either side of the continent, yet that at this ancient
tertiary epoch, sedimentary matter containing fossil remains should
have been deposited and preserved at different points in north and
south
lines, over a space of 1100 miles on the shores of the Pacific, and of
at least 1350 miles on the shores of the Atlantic, and in an east and
west line of 700 miles across the widest part of the continent? I
believe the explanation is not difficult, and that it is perhaps
applicable to nearly analogous facts observed in other quarters of the
world. Considering the enormous power of denudation which the sea
possesses, as shown by numberless facts, it is not probable that a
sedimentary deposit, when being upraised, could pass through the ordeal
of the beach, so as to be preserved in sufficient masses to last to a
distant period, without it were originally of wide extent and of
considerable thickness: now it is impossible on a moderately shallow
bottom, which alone is favourable to most living creatures, that a
thick and widely extended covering of sediment could be spread out,
without the bottom sank down to receive the successive layers. This
seems to have actually taken place at about the same period in southern
Patagonia and Chile, though these places are a thousand miles apart.
Hence, if prolonged movements of approximately contemporaneous
subsidence are generally widely extensive, as I am strongly inclined to
believe from my examination of the Coral Reefs of the great oceans—or
if, confining our view to South America, the subsiding movements have
been coextensive with those of elevation, by which, within the same
period of existing shells, the shores of Peru, Chile, Tierra del Fuego,
Patagonia, and La Plata have been upraised—then we can see that at the
same time, at far distant points, circumstances would have been
favourable to the formation of fossiliferous deposits, of wide extent
and of considerable thickness; and such deposits, consequently, would
have a good chance of resisting the wear and tear of successive
beach-lines, and of lasting to a future epoch.
_May_ 21_st._—I set out in company with Don Jose Edwards to the
silver-mine of Arqueros, and thence up the valley of Coquimbo. Passing
through a mountainous country, we reached by nightfall the mines
belonging to Mr. Edwards. I enjoyed my night’s rest here from a reason
which will not be fully appreciated in England, namely, the absence of
fleas! The rooms in Coquimbo swarm with them; but they will not
live here at the height of only three or four thousand feet: it can
scarcely be the trifling diminution of temperature, but some other
cause which destroys these troublesome insects at this place. The mines
are now in a bad state, though they formerly yielded about 2000 pounds
in weight of silver a year. It has been said that “a person with a
copper-mine will gain; with silver he may gain; but with gold he is
sure to lose.” This is not true: all the large Chilian fortunes have
been made by mines of the more precious metals. A short time since an
English physician returned to England from Copiapó, taking with him the
profits of one share in a silver-mine, which amounted to about 24,000
pounds sterling. No doubt a copper-mine with care is a sure game,
whereas the other is gambling, or rather taking a ticket in a lottery.
The owners lose great quantities of rich ores; for no precautions can
prevent robberies. I heard of a gentleman laying a bet with another,
that one of his men should rob him before his face. The ore when
brought out of the mine is broken into pieces, and the useless stone
thrown on one side. A couple of the miners who were thus employed,
pitched, as if by accident, two fragments away at the same moment, and
then cried out for a joke “Let us see which rolls furthest.” The owner,
who was standing by, bet a cigar with his friend on the race. The miner
by this means watched the very point amongst the rubbish where the
stone lay. In the evening he picked it up and carried it to his master,
showing him a rich mass of silver-ore, and saying, “This was the stone
on which you won a cigar by its rolling so far.”
_May_ 23_rd._—We descended into the fertile valley of Coquimbo, and
followed it till we reached an Hacienda belonging to a relation of Don
Jose, where we stayed the next day. I then rode one day’s journey
farther, to see what were declared to be some petrified shells and
beans, which latter turned out to be small quartz pebbles. We passed
through several small villages; and the valley was beautifully
cultivated, and the whole scenery very grand. We were here near the
main Cordillera, and the surrounding hills were lofty. In all parts of
Northern Chile fruit trees produce much more abundantly at a
considerable height near the Andes than in the lower country. The figs
and grapes of this district are
famous for their excellence, and are cultivated to a great extent. This
valley is, perhaps, the most productive one north of Quillota. I
believe it contains, including Coquimbo, 25,000 inhabitants. The next
day I returned to the Hacienda, and thence, together with Don Jose, to
Coquimbo.
_June_ 2_nd._—We set out for the valley of Guasco, following the
coast-road, which was considered rather less desert than the other. Our
first day’s ride was to a solitary house, called Yerba Buena, where
there was pasture for our horses. The shower mentioned as having fallen
a fortnight ago, only reached about half-way to Guasco; we had,
therefore, in the first part of our journey a most faint tinge of
green, which soon faded quite away. Even where brightest, it was
scarcely sufficient to remind one of the fresh turf and budding flowers
of the spring of other countries. While travelling through these
deserts one feels like a prisoner shut up in a gloomy court, who longs
to see something green and to smell a moist atmosphere.
_June_ 3_rd._—Yerba Buena to Carizal. During the first part of the day
we crossed a mountainous rocky desert, and afterwards a long deep sandy
plain, strewed with broken sea-shells. There was very little water, and
that little saline: the whole country, from the coast to the
Cordillera, is an uninhabited desert. I saw traces only of one living
animal in abundance, namely, the shells of a Bulimus, which were
collected together in extraordinary numbers on the driest spots. In the
spring one humble little plant sends out a few leaves, and on these the
snails feed. As they are seen only very early in the morning, when the
ground is slightly damp with dew, the Guasos believe that they are bred
from it. I have observed in other places that extremely dry and sterile
districts, where the soil is calcareous, are extraordinarily favourable
to land-shells. At Carizal there were a few cottages, some brackish
water, and a trace of cultivation: but it was with difficulty that we
purchased a little corn and straw for our horses.
4_th._—Carizal to Sauce. We continued to ride over desert plains,
tenanted by large herds of guanaco. We crossed also the valley of
Chañeral; which, although the most fertile one between Guasco and
Coquimbo, is very narrow, and produces so little pasture that we could
not purchase any for our horses. At Sauce we found a very civil old
gentleman, superintending
a copper-smelting furnace. As an especial favour, he allowed me to
purchase at a high price an armful of dirty straw, which was all the
poor horses had for supper after their long day’s journey. Few
smelting-furnaces are now at work in any part of Chile; it is found
more profitable, on account of the extreme scarcity of firewood, and
from the Chilian method of reduction being so unskilful, to ship the
ore for Swansea. The next day we crossed some mountains to Freyrina, in
the valley of Guasco. During each day’s ride farther northward, the
vegetation became more and more scanty; even the great chandelier-like
cactus was here replaced by a different and much smaller species.
During the winter months, both in Northern Chile and in Peru, a uniform
bank of clouds hangs, at no great height, over the Pacific. From the
mountains we had a very striking view of this white and brilliant
aërial field, which sent arms up the valleys, leaving islands and
promontories in the same manner as the sea does in the Chonos
archipelago and in Tierra del Fuego.
We stayed two days at Freyrina. In the valley of Guasco there are four
small towns. At the mouth there is the port, a spot entirely desert,
and without any water in the immediate neighbourhood. Five leagues
higher up stands Freyrina, a long straggling village, with decent
whitewashed houses. Again, ten leagues further up Ballenar is situated,
and above this Guasco Alto, a horticultural village, famous for its
dried fruit. On a clear day the view up the valley is very fine; the
straight opening terminates in the far-distant snowy Cordillera; on
each side an infinity of crossing lines are blended together in a
beautiful haze. The foreground is singular from the number of parallel
and step-formed terraces; and the included strip of green valley, with
its willow-bushes, is contrasted on both hands with the naked hills.
That the surrounding country was most barren will be readily believed,
when it is known that a shower of rain had not fallen during the last
thirteen months. The inhabitants heard with the greatest envy of the
rain at Coquimbo; from the appearance of the sky they had hopes of
equally good fortune, which, a fortnight afterwards, were realised. I
was at Copiapó at the time; and there the people, with equal envy,
talked of the abundant rain at Guasco. After two or three very dry
years, perhaps with not more than one shower during the
whole time, a rainy year generally follows; and this does more harm
than even the drought. The rivers swell, and cover with gravel and sand
the narrow strips of ground which alone are fit for cultivation. The
floods also injure the irrigating ditches. Great devastation had thus
been caused three years ago.
_June_ 8_th._—We rode on to Ballenar, which takes its name from
Ballenagh in Ireland, the birthplace of the family of O’Higgins, who,
under the Spanish government, were presidents and generals in Chile. As
the rocky mountains on each hand were concealed by clouds, the
terrace-like plains gave to the valley an appearance like that of Santa
Cruz in Patagonia. After spending one day at Ballenar I set out, on the
10th, for the upper part of the valley of Copiapó. We rode all day over
an uninteresting country. I am tired of repeating the epithets barren
and sterile. These words, however, as commonly used, are comparative; I
have always applied them to the plains of Patagonia, which can boast of
spiny bushes and some tufts of grass; and this is absolute fertility,
as compared with Northern Chile. Here again, there are not many spaces
of two hundred yards square, where some little bush, cactus or lichen,
may not be discovered by careful examination; and in the soil seeds lie
dormant ready to spring up during the first rainy winter. In Peru real
deserts occur over wide tracts of country. In the evening we arrived at
a valley in which the bed of the streamlet was damp: following it up,
we came to tolerably good water. During the night the stream, from not
being evaporated and absorbed so quickly, flows a league lower down
than during the day. Sticks were plentiful for firewood, so that it was
a good place of bivouac for us; but for the poor animals there was not
a mouthful to eat.
_June_ 11_th._—We rode without stopping for twelve hours till we
reached an old smelting-furnace, where there was water and firewood;
but our horses again had nothing to eat, being shut up in an old
courtyard. The line of road was hilly, and the distant views
interesting from the varied colours of the bare mountains. It was
almost a pity to see the sun shining constantly over so useless a
country; such splendid weather ought to have brightened fields and
pretty gardens. The next day we reached the valley of Copiapó. I was
heartily glad of it; for the whole journey was a continued source of
anxiety;
it was most disagreeable to hear, whilst eating our own suppers, our
horses gnawing the posts to which they were tied, and to have no means
of relieving their hunger. To all appearance, however, the animals were
quite fresh; and no one could have told that they had eaten nothing for
the last fifty-five hours.
I had a letter of introduction to Mr. Bingley, who received me very
kindly at the Hacienda of Potrero Seco. This estate is between twenty
and thirty miles long, but very narrow, being generally only two fields
wide, one on each side the river. In some parts the estate is of no
width, that is to say, the land cannot be irrigated, and therefore is
valueless, like the surrounding rocky desert. The small quantity of
cultivated land in the whole line of valley does not so much depend on
inequalities of level, and consequent unfitness for irrigation, as on
the small supply of water. The river this year was remarkably full:
here, high up the valley, it reached to the horse’s belly, and was
about fifteen yards wide, and rapid; lower down it becomes smaller and
smaller, and is generally quite lost, as happened during one period of
thirty years, so that not a drop entered the sea. The inhabitants watch
a storm over the Cordillera with great interest; as one good fall of
snow provides them with water for the ensuing year. This is of
infinitely more consequence than rain in the lower country. Rain, as
often as it falls, which is about once in every two or three years, is
a great advantage, because the cattle and mules can for some time
afterwards find a little pasture in the mountains. But without snow on
the Andes, desolation extends throughout the valley. It is on record
that three times nearly all the inhabitants have been obliged to
emigrate to the south. This year there was plenty of water, and every
man irrigated his ground as much as he chose; but it has frequently
been necessary to post soldiers at the sluices, to see that each estate
took only its proper allowance during so many hours in the week. The
valley is said to contain 12,000 souls, but its produce is sufficient
only for three months in the year; the rest of the supply being drawn
from Valparaiso and the south. Before the discovery of the famous
silver-mines of Chanuncillo, Copiapó was in a rapid state of decay; but
now it is in a very thriving condition; and the town, which was
completely overthrown by an earthquake, has been rebuilt.
The valley of Copiapó, forming a mere ribbon of green in a desert, runs
in a very southerly direction; so that it is of considerable length to
its source in the Cordillera. The valleys of Guasco and Copiapó may
both be considered as long narrow islands, separated from the rest of
Chile by deserts of rock instead of by salt water. Northward of these,
there is one other very miserable valley, called Paposo, which contains
about two hundred souls; and then there extends the real desert of
Atacama—a barrier far worse than the most turbulent ocean. After
staying a few days at Potrero Seco, I proceeded up the valley to the
house of Don Benito Cruz, to whom I had a letter of introduction. I
found him most hospitable; indeed it is impossible to bear too strong
testimony to the kindness with which travellers are received in almost
every part of South America. The next day I hired some mules to take me
by the ravine of Jolquera into the central Cordillera. On the second
night the weather seemed to foretell a storm of snow or rain, and
whilst lying in our beds we felt a trifling shock of an earthquake.
The connexion between earthquakes and the weather has been often
disputed: it appears to me to be a point of great interest, which is
little understood. Humboldt has remarked in one part of the _ Personal
Narrative,_[1] that it would be difficult for any person who had long
resided in New Andalusia, or in Lower Peru, to deny that there exists
some connection between these phenomena: in another part, however, he
seems to think the connexion fanciful. At Guayaquil it is said that a
heavy shower in the dry season is invariably followed by an earthquake.
In Northern Chile, from the extreme infrequency of rain, or even of
weather foreboding rain, the probability of accidental coincidences
becomes very small; yet the inhabitants are here most firmly convinced
of some connexion between the state of the atmosphere and of the
trembling of the ground: I was much struck by this when mentioning to
some people at Copiapó that there had been a sharp shock at Coquimbo:
they
immediately cried out, “How fortunate! there will be plenty of pasture
there this year.” To their minds an earthquake foretold rain as surely
as rain foretold abundant pasture. Certainly it did so happen that on
the very day of the earthquake that shower of rain fell which I have
described as in ten days’ time producing a thin sprinkling of grass. At
other times rain has followed earthquakes at a period of the year when
it is a far greater prodigy than the earthquake itself: this happened
after the shock of November 1822, and again in 1829 at Valparaiso; also
after that of September 1833, at Tacna. A person must be somewhat
habituated to the climate of these countries to perceive the extreme
improbability of rain falling at such seasons, except as a consequence
of some law quite unconnected with the ordinary course of the weather.
In the cases of great volcanic eruptions, as that of Coseguina, where
torrents of rain fell at a time of the year most unusual for it, and
“almost unprecedented in Central America,” it is not difficult to
understand that the volumes of vapour and clouds of ashes might have
disturbed the atmospheric equilibrium. Humboldt extends this view to
the case of earthquakes unaccompanied by eruptions; but I can hardly
conceive it possible that the small quantity of aëriform fluids which
then escape from the fissured ground can produce such remarkable
effects. There appears much probability in the view first proposed by
Mr. P. Scrope, that when the barometer is low, and when rain might
naturally be expected to fall, the diminished pressure of the
atmosphere over a wide extent of country might well determine the
precise day on which the earth, already stretched to the utmost by the
subterranean forces, should yield, crack, and consequently tremble. It
is, however, doubtful how far this idea will explain the circumstance
of torrents of rain falling in the dry season during several days,
after an earthquake unaccompanied by an eruption; such cases seem to
bespeak some more intimate connexion between the atmospheric and
subterranean regions.
[1] Vol. iv, p. 11 and vol. ii, p. 217. For the remarks on Guayaquil
see Silliman’s _Journ._ vol. xxiv, p. 384. For those on Tacna by Mr.
Hamilton see _Trans. of British Association,_ 1840. For those on
Coseguina see Mr. Caldcleugh in _Phil. Trans._ 1835. In the former
edition I collected several references on the coincidences between
sudden falls in the barometer and earthquakes; and between earthquakes
and meteors.
Finding little of interest in this part of the ravine, we retraced our
steps to the house of Don Benito, where I stayed two days collecting
fossil shells and wood. Great prostrate silicified trunks of trees,
embedded in a conglomerate, were
extraordinarily numerous. I measured one which was fifteen feet in
circumference: how surprising it is that every atom of the woody matter
in this great cylinder should have been removed and replaced by silex
so perfectly that each vessel and pore is preserved! These trees
flourished at about the period of our lower chalk; they all belonged to
the fir-tribe. It was amusing to hear the inhabitants discussing the
nature of the fossil shells which I collected, almost in the same terms
as were used a century ago in Europe,—namely, whether or not they had
been thus “born by nature.” My geological examination of the country
generally created a good deal of surprise amongst the Chilenos: it was
long before they could be convinced that I was not hunting for mines.
This was sometimes troublesome: I found the most ready way of
explaining my employment was to ask them how it was that they
themselves were not curious concerning earthquakes and volcanos?—why
some springs were hot and others cold?—why there were mountains in
Chile, and not a hill in La Plata? These bare questions at once
satisfied and silenced the greater number; some, however (like a few in
England who are a century behindhand), thought that all such inquiries
were useless and impious; and that it was quite sufficient that God had
thus made the mountains.
An order had recently been issued that all stray dogs should be killed,
and we saw many lying dead on the road. A great number had lately gone
mad, and several men had been bitten and had died in consequence. On
several occasions hydrophobia has prevailed in this valley. It is
remarkable thus to find so strange and dreadful a disease appearing
time after time in the same isolated spot. It has been remarked that
certain villages in England are in like manner much more subject to
this visitation than others. Dr. Unanùe states that hydrophobia was
first known in South America in 1803: this statement is corroborated by
Azara and Ulloa having never heard of it in their time. Dr. Unanùe says
that it broke out in Central America, and slowly travelled southward.
It reached Arequipa in 1807; and it is said that some men there, who
had not been bitten, were affected, as were some negroes, who had eaten
a bullock which had died of hydrophobia. At Ica forty-two people thus
miserably perished.
The disease came on between twelve and ninety days after the bite; and
in those cases where it did come on, death ensued invariably within
five days. After 1808 a long interval ensued without any cases. On
inquiry, I did not hear of hydrophobia in Van Diemen’s Land, or in
Australia; and Burchell says that during the five years he was at the
Cape of Good Hope, he never heard of an instance of it. Webster asserts
that at the Azores hydrophobia has never occurred; and the same
assertion has been made with respect to Mauritius and St. Helena.[2] In
so strange a disease some information might possibly be gained by
considering the circumstances under which it originates in distant
climates; for it is improbable that a dog already bitten should have
been brought to these distant countries.
[2] _Observa. sobre el clima de Lima,_ p. 67.—Azara’s _Travels,_ vol.
i, p. 381.—Ulloa’s _ Voyage,_ vol. ii, p. 28.—Burchell’s _Travels,_
vol. ii, p. 524.—Webster’s _Description of the Azores,_ p.
124.—_Voyage à l’Isle de France par un Officier du Roi,_ tome i, p.
248.—_Description of St. Helena,_ p. 123.
At night a stranger arrived at the house of Don Benito and asked
permission to sleep there. He said he had been wandering about the
mountains for seventeen days, having lost his way. He started from
Guasco, and being accustomed to travelling in the Cordillera, did not
expect any difficulty in following the track to Copiapó; but he soon
became involved in a labyrinth of mountains whence he could not escape.
Some of his mules had fallen over precipices and he had been in great
distress. His chief difficulty arose from not knowing where to find
water in the lower country, so that he was obliged to keep bordering
the central ranges.
We returned down the valley, and on the 22nd reached the town of
Copiapó. The lower part of the valley is broad, forming a fine plain
like that of Quillota. The town covers a considerable space of ground,
each house possessing a garden: but it is an uncomfortable place, and
the dwellings are poorly furnished. Every one seems bent on the one
object of making money, and then migrating as quickly as possible. All
the inhabitants are more or less directly concerned with mines; and
mines and ores are the sole subjects of conversation. Necessaries of
all sorts are extremely dear; as the distance from the town to the port
is eighteen leagues, and the land
carriage very expensive. A fowl costs five or six shillings; meat is
nearly as dear as in England; firewood, or rather sticks, are brought
on donkeys from a distance of two and three days’ journey within the
Cordillera; and pasturage for animals is a shilling a day: all this for
South America is wonderfully exorbitant.
_June_ 26_th._—I hired a guide and eight mules to take me into the
Cordillera by a different line from my last excursion. As the country
was utterly desert, we took a cargo and a half of barley mixed with
chopped straw. About two leagues above the town a broad valley called
the “Despoblado,” or uninhabited, branches off from that one by which
we had arrived. Although a valley of the grandest dimensions, and
leading to a pass across the Cordillera, yet it is completely dry,
excepting perhaps for a few days during some very rainy winter. The
sides of the crumbling mountains were furrowed by scarcely any ravines;
and the bottom of the main valley, filled with shingle, was smooth and
nearly level. No considerable torrent could ever have flowed down this
bed of shingle; for if it had, a great cliff-bounded channel, as in all
the southern valleys, would assuredly have been formed. I feel little
doubt that this valley, as well as those mentioned by travellers in
Peru, were left in the state we now see them by the waves of the sea,
as the land slowly rose. I observed in one place where the Despoblado
was joined by a ravine (which in almost any other chain would have been
called a grand valley), that its bed, though composed merely of sand
and gravel, was higher than that of its tributary. A mere rivulet of
water, in the course of an hour, would have cut a channel for itself;
but it was evident that ages had passed away, and no such rivulet had
drained this great tributary. It was curious to behold the machinery,
if such a term may be used, for the drainage, all, with the last
trifling exception, perfect, yet without any signs of action. Every one
must have remarked how mud-banks, left by the retiring tide, imitate in
miniature a country with hill and dale; and here we have the original
model in rock, formed as the continent rose during the secular
retirement of the ocean, instead of during the ebbing and flowing of
the tides. If a shower of rain falls on the
mud-bank, when left dry, it deepens the already-formed shallow lines of
excavation; and so it is with the rain of successive centuries on the
bank of rock and soil, which we call a continent.
We rode on after it was dark, till we reached a side ravine with a
small well, called “Agua amarga.” The water deserved its name, for
besides being saline it was most offensively putrid and bitter; so that
we could not force ourselves to drink either tea or maté. I suppose the
distance from the river of Copiapó to this spot was at least
twenty-five or thirty English miles; in the whole space there was not a
single drop of water, the country deserving the name of desert in the
strictest sense. Yet about half-way we passed some old Indian ruins
near Punta Gorda: I noticed also in front of some of the valleys which
branch off from the Despoblado, two piles of stones placed a little way
apart, and directed so as to point up the mouths of these small
valleys. My companions knew nothing about them, and only answered my
queries by their imperturbable “quien sabe?”
I observed Indian ruins in several parts of the Cordillera: the most
perfect which I saw were the Ruinas de Tambillos in the Uspallata Pass.
Small square rooms were there huddled together in separate groups: some
of the doorways were yet standing; they were formed by a cross slab of
stone only about three feet high. Ulloa has remarked on the lowness of
the doors in the ancient Peruvian dwellings. These houses, when
perfect, must have been capable of containing a considerable number of
persons. Tradition says that they were used as halting-places for the
Incas, when they crossed the mountains. Traces of Indian habitations
have been discovered in many other parts, where it does not appear
probable that they were used as mere resting-places, but yet where the
land is as utterly unfit for any kind of cultivation as it is near the
Tambillos or at the Incas Bridge, or in the Portillo Pass, at all which
places I saw ruins. In the ravine of Jajuel, near Aconcagua, where
there is no pass, I heard of remains of houses situated at a great
height, where it is extremely cold and sterile. At first I imagined
that these buildings had been places of refuge, built by the Indians on
the first arrival of the Spaniards; but I have since been inclined to
speculate on the probability of a small change of climate.
In this northern part of Chile, within the Cordillera, old Indian
houses are said to be especially numerous: by digging amongst the
ruins, bits of woollen articles, instruments of precious metals, and
heads of Indian corn, are not unfrequently discovered: an arrow-head
made of agate, and of precisely the same form with those now used in
Tierra del Fuego, was given me. I am aware that the Peruvian Indians
now frequently inhabit most lofty and bleak situations; but at Copiapó
I was assured by men who had spent their lives in travelling through
the Andes, that there were very many (_muchisimas_) buildings at
heights so great as almost to border on the perpetual snow, and in
parts where there exist no passes, and where the land produces
absolutely nothing, and what is still more extraordinary, where there
is no water. Nevertheless it is the opinion of the people of the
country (although they are much puzzled by the circumstance), that,
from the appearance of the houses, the Indians must have used them as
places of residence. In this valley, at Punta Gorda, the remains
consisted of seven or eight square little rooms, which were of a
similar form with those at Tambillos, but built chiefly of mud, which
the present inhabitants cannot, either here or, according to Ulloa, in
Peru, imitate in durability. They were situated in the most conspicuous
and defenceless position, at the bottom of the flat broad valley. There
was no water nearer than three or four leagues, and that only in very
small quantity, and bad: the soil was absolutely sterile; I looked in
vain even for a lichen adhering to the rocks. At the present day, with
the advantage of beasts of burden, a mine, unless it were very rich,
could scarcely be worked here with profit. Yet the Indians formerly
chose it as a place of residence! If at the present time two or three
showers of rain were to fall annually, instead of one, as now is the
case, during as many years, a small rill of water would probably be
formed in this great valley; and then, by irrigation (which was
formerly so well understood by the Indians), the soil would easily be
rendered sufficiently productive to support a few families.
I have convincing proofs that this part of the continent of South
America has been elevated near the coast at least from 400 to 500, and
in some parts from 1000 to 1300 feet, since the epoch of existing
shells; and farther inland the rise possibly
may have been greater. As the peculiarly arid character of the climate
is evidently a consequence of the height of the Cordillera, we may feel
almost sure that before the later elevations, the atmosphere could not
have been so completely drained of its moisture as it now is; and as
the rise has been gradual, so would have been the change in climate. On
this notion of a change of climate since the buildings were inhabited,
the ruins must be of extreme antiquity, but I do not think their
preservation under the Chilian climate any great difficulty. We must
also admit on this notion (and this perhaps is a greater difficulty)
that man has inhabited South America for an immensely long period,
inasmuch as any change of climate effected by the elevation of the land
must have been extremely gradual. At Valparaiso, within the last 220
years, the rise has been somewhat less than 19 feet: at Lima a
sea-beach has certainly been upheaved from 80 to 90 feet, within the
Indio-human period: but such small elevations could have had little
power in deflecting the moisture-bringing atmospheric currents. Dr.
Lund, however, found human skeletons in the caves of Brazil, the
appearance of which induced him to believe that the Indian race has
existed during a vast lapse of time in South America.
When at Lima, I conversed on these subjects[3] with Mr. Gill, a civil
engineer, who had seen much of the interior country. He told me that a
conjecture of a change of climate had sometimes crossed his mind; but
that he thought that the greater portion of land, now incapable of
cultivation, but covered with Indian ruins, had been reduced to this
state by the water-conduits, which the Indians formerly constructed on
so wonderful a scale, having been injured by neglect and by
subterranean movements. I may here mention that the Peruvians actually
carried their irrigating streams in tunnels through hills of solid
rock. Mr. Gill told me he had been employed professionally to examine
one: he found the passage low, narrow, crooked, and not of uniform
breadth, but of very considerable length. Is it not most wonderful that
men should
have attempted such operations, without the use of iron or gunpowder?
Mr. Gill also mentioned to me a most interesting, and, as far as I am
aware, quite unparalleled case, of a subterranean disturbance having
changed the drainage of a country. Travelling from Casma to Huaraz (not
very far distant from Lima), he found a plain covered with ruins and
marks of ancient cultivation but now quite barren. Near it was the dry
course of a considerable river, whence the water for irrigation had
formerly been conducted. There was nothing in the appearance of the
watercourse to indicate that the river had not flowed there a few years
previously; in some parts, beds of sand and gravel were spread out; in
others, the solid rock had been worn into a broad channel, which in one
spot was about 40 yards in breadth and 8 feet deep. It is self-evident
that a person following up the course of a stream will always ascend at
a greater or less inclination: Mr. Gill, therefore, was much
astonished, when walking up the bed of this ancient river, to find
himself suddenly going down hill. He imagined that the downward slope
had a fall of about 40 or 50 feet perpendicular. We here have
unequivocal evidence that a ridge had been uplifted right across the
old bed of a stream. From the moment the river-course was thus arched,
the water must necessarily have been thrown back, and a new channel
formed. From that moment, also, the neighbouring plain must have lost
its fertilising stream, and become a desert.
[3] Temple, in his travels through Upper Peru, or Bolivia, in going
from Potosi to Oruro, says “I saw many Indian villages or dwellings in
ruins, up even to the very tops of the mountains, attesting a former
population where now all is desolate.” He makes similar remarks in
another place; but I cannot tell whether this desolation has been
caused by a want of population, or by an altered condition of the
land.
_June_ 27_th._—We set out early in the morning, and by mid-day reached
the ravine of Paypote, where there is a tiny rill of water, with a
little vegetation, and even a few algarroba trees, a kind of mimosa.
From having firewood, a smelting-furnace had formerly been built here:
we found a solitary man in charge of it, whose sole employment was
hunting guanacos. At night it froze sharply; but having plenty of wood
for our fire, we kept ourselves warm.
_June_ 28_th._—We continued gradually ascending, and the valley now
changed into a ravine. During the day we saw several guanacos, and the
track of the closely-allied species, the Vicuña: this latter animal is
pre-eminently alpine in its habits; it seldom descends much below the
limit of perpetual snow, and therefore haunts even a more lofty and
sterile situation than the guanaco.
The only other animal which we saw in any number was a small fox: I
suppose this animal preys on the mice and other small rodents which, as
long as there is the least vegetation, subsist in considerable numbers
in very desert places. In Patagonia, even on the borders of the
salinas, where a drop of fresh water can never be found, excepting dew,
these little animals swarm. Next to lizards, mice appear to be able to
support existence on the smallest and driest portions of the earth—even
on islets in the midst of great oceans.
The scene on all sides showed desolation, brightened and made palpable
by a clear, unclouded sky. For a time such scenery is sublime, but this
feeling cannot last, and then it becomes uninteresting. We bivouacked
at the foot of the “primera linea,” or the first line of the partition
of the waters. The streams, however, on the east side do not flow to
the Atlantic, but into an elevated district, in the middle of which
there is a large salina, or salt lake;—thus forming a little Caspian
Sea at the height, perhaps, of ten thousand feet. Where we slept, there
were some considerable patches of snow, but they do not remain
throughout the year. The winds in these lofty regions obey very regular
laws; every day a fresh breeze blows up the valley, and at night, an
hour or two after sunset, the air from the cold regions above descends
as through a funnel. This night it blew a gale of wind, and the
temperature must have been considerably below the freezing-point, for
water in a vessel soon became a block of ice. No clothes seemed to
oppose any obstacle to the air; I suffered very much from the cold, so
that I could not sleep, and in the morning rose with my body quite dull
and benumbed.
In the Cordillera farther southward people lose their lives from
snow-storms; here, it sometimes happens from another cause. My guide,
when a boy of fourteen years old, was passing the Cordillera with a
party in the month of May; and while in the central parts, a furious
gale of wind arose, so that the men could hardly cling on their mules,
and stones were flying along the ground. The day was cloudless, and not
a speck of snow fell, but the temperature was low. It is probable that
the thermometer would not have stood very many degrees below the
freezing-point, but the effect on their bodies, ill protected by
clothing, must have been in proportion to the rapidity of the current
of cold air. The gale lasted for more than a day; the
men began to lose their strength, and the mules would not move onwards.
My guide’s brother tried to return, but he perished, and his body was
found two years afterwards, lying by the side of his mule near the
road, with the bridle still in his hand. Two other men in the party
lost their fingers and toes; and out of two hundred mules and thirty
cows, only fourteen mules escaped alive. Many years ago the whole of a
large party are supposed to have perished from a similar cause, but
their bodies to this day have never been discovered. The union of a
cloudless sky, low temperature, and a furious gale of wind, must be, I
should think, in all parts of the world an unusual occurrence.
_June_ 29_th._—We gladly travelled down the valley to our former
night’s lodging, and thence to near the Agua amarga. On July 1st we
reached the valley of Copiapó. The smell of the fresh clover was quite
delightful, after the scentless air of the dry sterile Despoblado.
Whilst staying in the town I heard an account from several of the
inhabitants, of a hill in the neighbourhood which they called “El
Bramador,”—the roarer or bellower. I did not at the time pay sufficient
attention to the account; but, as far as I understood, the hill was
covered by sand, and the noise was produced only when people, by
ascending it, put the sand in motion. The same circumstances are
described in detail on the authority of Seetzen and Ehrenberg,[4] as
the cause of the sounds which have been heard by many travellers on
Mount Sinai near the Red Sea. One person with whom I conversed had
himself heard the noise: he described it as very surprising; and he
distinctly stated that, although he could not understand how it was
caused, yet it was necessary to set the sand rolling down the
acclivity. A horse walking over dry and coarse sand causes a peculiar
chirping noise from the friction of the particles; a circumstance which
I several times noticed on the coast of Brazil.
[4] _Edinburgh Phil. Journ._ Jan. 1830, p. 74; and April 1830, p 258.
Also Daubeny on Volcanoes, p. 438; and _ Bengal Journ._ vol. vii, p.
324.
Three days afterwards I heard of the _Beagle’s_ arrival at the Port,
distant eighteen leagues from the town. There is very little land
cultivated down the valley; its wide expanse supports a wretched wiry
grass, which even the donkeys can hardly eat.
This poorness of the vegetation is owing to the quantity of saline
matter with which the soil is impregnated. The Port consists of an
assemblage of miserable little hovels, situated at the foot of a
sterile plain. At present, as the river contains water enough to reach
the sea, the inhabitants enjoy the advantage of having fresh water
within a mile and a half. On the beach there were large piles of
merchandise, and the little place had an air of activity. In the
evening I gave my adios, with a hearty good-will, to my companion
Mariano Gonzales, with whom I had ridden so many leagues in Chile. The
next morning the _Beagle_ sailed for Iquique.
_July_ 12_th._—We anchored in the port of Iquique, in latitude 20° 12′,
on the coast of Peru. The town contains about a thousand inhabitants,
and stands on a little plain of sand at the foot of a great wall of
rock, 2000 feet in height, here forming the coast. The whole is utterly
desert. A light shower of rain falls only once in very many years; and
the ravines consequently are filled with detritus, and the
mountainsides covered by piles of fine white sand, even to a height of
a thousand feet. During this season of the year a heavy bank of clouds,
stretched over the ocean, seldom rises above the wall of rocks on the
coast. The aspect of the place was most gloomy; the little port, with
its few vessels, and small group of wretched houses, seemed overwhelmed
and out of all proportion with the rest of the scene.
The inhabitants live like persons on board a ship: every necessary
comes from a distance: water is brought in boats from Pisagua, about
forty miles northward, and is sold at the rate of nine reals (4s. 6d.)
an eighteen-gallon cask: I bought a wine-bottle full for threepence. In
like manner firewood, and of course every article of food, is imported.
Very few animals can be maintained in such a place: on the ensuing
morning I hired with difficulty, at the price of four pounds sterling,
two mules and a guide to take me to the nitrate of soda works. These
are at present the support of Iquique. This salt was first exported in
1830: in one year an amount in value of one hundred thousand pounds
sterling was sent to France and England. It is principally used as a
manure and in the manufacture of nitric acid: owing to its deliquescent
property
it will not serve for gunpowder. Formerly there were two exceedingly
rich silver-mines in this neighbourhood, but their produce is now very
small.
Our arrival in the offing caused some little apprehension. Peru was in
a state of anarchy; and each party having demanded a contribution, the
poor town of Iquique was in tribulation, thinking the evil hour was
come. The people had also their domestic troubles; a short time before,
three French carpenters had broken open, during the same night, the two
churches, and stolen all the plate: one of the robbers, however,
subsequently confessed, and the plate was recovered. The convicts were
sent to Arequipa, which, though the capital of this province, is two
hundred leagues distant; the government there thought it a pity to
punish such useful workmen who could make all sorts of furniture; and
accordingly liberated them. Things being in this state, the churches
were again broken open, but this time the plate was not recovered. The
inhabitants became dreadfully enraged, and declaring that none but
heretics would thus “eat God Almighty,” proceeded to torture some
Englishmen, with the intention of afterwards shooting them. At last the
authorities interfered, and peace was established.
13_th._—In the morning I started for the saltpetre-works, a distance of
fourteen leagues. Having ascended the steep coast-mountains by a zigzag
sandy track, we soon came in view of the mines of Guantajaya and St.
Rosa. These two small villages are placed at the very mouths of the
mines; and being perched up on hills, they had a still more unnatural
and desolate appearance than the town of Iquique. We did not reach the
saltpetre works till after sunset, having ridden all day across an
undulating country, a complete and utter desert. The road was strewed
with the bones and dried skins of many beasts of burden which had
perished on it from fatigue. Excepting the Vultur aura, which preys on
the carcasses, I saw neither bird, quadruped, reptile, nor insect. On
the coast-mountains, at the height of about 2000 feet, where during
this season the clouds generally hang, a very few cacti were growing in
the clefts of rock; and the loose sand was strewed over with a lichen,
which lies on the surface quite unattached. This plant belongs to the
genus Cladonia, and somewhat resembles the
reindeer lichen. In some parts it was in sufficient quantity to tinge
the sand, as seen from a distance, of a pale yellowish colour. Farther
inland, during the whole ride of fourteen leagues, I saw only one other
vegetable production, and that was a most minute yellow lichen, growing
on the bones of the dead mules. This was the first true desert which I
had seen: the effect on me was not impressive; but I believe this was
owing to my having become gradually accustomed to such scenes, as I
rode northward from Valparaiso, through Coquimbo, to Copiapó. The
appearance of the country was remarkable, from being covered by a thick
crust of common salt, and of a stratified saliferous alluvium, which
seems to have been deposited as the land slowly rose above the level of
the sea. The salt is white, very hard, and compact: it occurs in
water-worn nodules projecting from the agglutinated sand, and is
associated with much gypsum. The appearance of this superficial mass
very closely resembled that of a country after snow, before the last
dirty patches are thawed. The existence of this crust of a soluble
substance over the whole face of the country shows how extraordinarily
dry the climate must have been for a long period.
At night I slept at the house of the owner of one of the saltpetre
mines. The country is here as unproductive as near the coast; but
water, having rather a bitter and brackish taste, can be procured by
digging wells. The well at this house was thirty-six yards deep: as
scarcely any rain falls, it is evident the water is not thus derived;
indeed if it were, it could not fail to be as salt as brine, for the
whole surrounding country is incrusted with various saline substances.
We must therefore conclude that it percolates under ground from the
Cordillera, though distant many leagues. In that direction there are a
few small villages, where the inhabitants, having more water, are
enabled to irrigate a little land, and raise hay, on which the mules
and asses, employed in carrying the saltpetre, are fed. The nitrate of
soda was now selling at the ship’s side at fourteen shillings per
hundred pounds: the chief expense is its transport to the sea-coast.
The mine consists of a hard stratum, between two and three feet thick,
of the nitrate mingled with a little of the sulphate of soda and a good
deal of common salt. It lies close beneath the surface, and follows for
a length of
one hundred and fifty miles the margin of a grand basin or plain; this,
from its outline, manifestly must once have been a lake, or more
probably an inland arm of the sea, as may be inferred from the presence
of iodic salts in the saline stratum. The surface of the plain is 3300
feet above the Pacific.
19_th._—We anchored in the Bay of Callao, the seaport of Lima, the
capital of Peru. We stayed here six weeks, but from the troubled state
of public affairs I saw very little of the country. During our whole
visit the climate was far from being so delightful as it is generally
represented. A dull heavy bank of clouds constantly hung over the land,
so that during the first sixteen days I had only one view of the
Cordillera behind Lima. These mountains, seen in stages, one above the
other, through openings in the clouds, had a very grand appearance. It
is almost become a proverb, that rain never falls in the lower part of
Peru. Yet this can hardly be considered correct; for during almost
every day of our visit there was a thick drizzling mist, which was
sufficient to make the streets muddy and one’s clothes damp: this the
people are pleased to call Peruvian dew. That much rain does not fall
is very certain, for the houses are covered only with flat roofs made
of hardened mud; and on the mole ship-loads of wheat were piled up,
being thus left for weeks together without any shelter.
I cannot say I liked the very little I saw of Peru: in summer, however,
it is said that the climate is much pleasanter. In all seasons, both
inhabitants and foreigners suffer from severe attacks of ague. This
disease is common on the whole coast of Peru, but is unknown in the
interior. The attacks of illness which arise from miasma never fail to
appear most mysterious. So difficult is it to judge from the aspect of
a country, whether or not it is healthy, that if a person had been told
to choose within the tropics a situation appearing favourable for
health, very probably he would have named this coast. The plain round
the outskirts of Callao is sparingly covered with a coarse grass, and
in some parts there are a few stagnant, though very small, pools of
water. The miasma, in all probability, arises from these: for the town
of Arica was similarly circumstanced, and its healthiness was much
improved
by the drainage of some little pools. Miasma is not always produced by
a luxuriant vegetation with an ardent climate; for many parts of
Brazil, even where there are marshes and a rank vegetation, are much
more healthy than this sterile coast of Peru. The densest forests in a
temperate climate, as in Chiloe, do not seem in the slightest degree to
affect the healthy condition of the atmosphere.
The island of St. Jago, at the Cape de Verds, offers another
strongly-marked instance of a country, which any one would have
expected to find most healthy, being very much the contrary. I have
described the bare and open plains as supporting, during a few weeks
after the rainy season, a thin vegetation, which directly withers away
and dries up: at this period the air appears to become quite poisonous;
both natives and foreigners often being affected with violent fevers.
On the other hand, the Galapagos Archipelago, in the Pacific, with a
similar soil, and periodically subject to the same process of
vegetation, is perfectly healthy. Humboldt has observed that “under the
torrid zone, the smallest marshes are the most dangerous, being
surrounded, as at Vera Cruz and Carthagena, with an arid and sandy
soil, which raises the temperature of the ambient air.”[5] On the coast
of Peru, however, the temperature is not hot to any excessive degree;
and perhaps in consequence the intermittent fevers are not of the most
malignant order. In all unhealthy countries the greatest risk is run by
sleeping on shore. Is this owing to the state of the body during sleep,
or to a greater abundance of miasma at such times? It appears certain
that those who stay on board a vessel, though anchored at only a short
distance from the coast, generally suffer less than those actually on
shore. On the other hand, I have heard of one remarkable case where a
fever broke out among the crew of a man-of-war some hundred miles off
the coast of Africa, and at the same time one of those fearful
periods[6] of death commenced at Sierra Leone.
[5] _Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain,_ vol. iv, p. 199.
[6] A similar interesting case is recorded in the _Madras Medical
Quart. Journ._ 1839, p. 340. Dr. Ferguson in his admirable Paper (see
9th vol. of _Edinburgh Royal Trans._), shows clearly that the poison
is generated in the drying process; and hence that dry hot countries
are often the most unhealthy.
No state in South America, since the declaration of
independence, has suffered more from anarchy than Peru. At the time of
our visit there were four chiefs in arms contending for supremacy in
the government: if one succeeded in becoming for a time very powerful,
the others coalesced against him; but no sooner were they victorious
than they were again hostile to each other. The other day, at the
Anniversary of the Independence, high mass was performed, the President
partaking of the sacrament: during the _Te Deum laudamus,_ instead of
each regiment displaying the Peruvian flag, a black one with death’s
head was unfurled. Imagine a government under which such a scene could
be ordered, on such an occasion, to be typical of their determination
of fighting to death! This state of affairs happened at a time very
unfortunately for me, as I was precluded from taking any excursions
much beyond the limits of the town. The barren island of San Lorenzo,
which forms the harbour, was nearly the only place where one could walk
securely. The upper part, which is upwards of 1000 feet in height,
during this season of the year (winter), comes within the lower limit
of the clouds; and in consequence an abundant cryptogamic vegetation
and a few flowers cover the summit. On the hills near Lima, at a height
but little greater, the ground is carpeted with moss, and beds of
beautiful yellow lilies, called Amancaes. This indicates a very much
greater degree of humidity than at a corresponding height at Iquique.
Proceeding northward of Lima, the climate becomes damper, till on the
banks of the Guayaquil, nearly under the equator, we find the most
luxuriant forests. The change, however, from the sterile coast of Peru
to that fertile land is described as taking place rather abruptly in
the latitude of Cape Blanco, two degrees south of Guayaquil.
Callao is a filthy, ill-built, small seaport. The inhabitants, both
here and at Lima, present every imaginable shade of mixture, between
European, Negro, and Indian blood. They appear a depraved, drunken set
of people. The atmosphere is loaded with foul smells, and that peculiar
one, which may be perceived in almost every town within the tropics,
was here very strong. The fortress, which withstood Lord Cochrane’s
long siege, has an imposing appearance. But the President, during our
stay, sold the brass guns, and proceeded to dismantle parts of it. The
reason assigned was, that he had not an
officer to whom he could trust so important a charge. He himself had
good reason for thinking so, as he had obtained the presidentship by
rebelling while in charge of this same fortress. After we left South
America, he paid the penalty in the usual manner, by being conquered,
taken prisoner, and shot.
Lima stands on a plain in a valley, formed during the gradual retreat
of the sea. It is seven miles from Callao, and is elevated 500 feet
above it; but from the slope being very gradual, the road appears
absolutely level; so that when at Lima it is difficult to believe one
has ascended even one hundred feet: Humboldt has remarked on this
singularly deceptive case. Steep barren hills rise like islands from
the plain, which is divided, by straight mud-walls, into large green
fields. In these scarcely a tree grows excepting a few willows, and an
occasional clump of bananas and of oranges. The city of Lima is now in
a wretched state of decay: the streets are nearly unpaved; and heaps of
filth are piled up in all directions, where the black gallinazos, tame
as poultry, pick up bits of carrion. The houses have generally an upper
story, built, on account of the earthquakes, of plastered woodwork; but
some of the old ones, which are now used by several families, are
immensely large, and would rival in suites of apartments the most
magnificent in any place. Lima, the City of the Kings, must formerly
have been a splendid town. The extraordinary number of churches gives
it, even at the present day, a peculiar and striking character,
especially when viewed from a short distance.
One day I went out with some merchants to hunt in the immediate
vicinity of the city. Our sport was very poor; but I had an opportunity
of seeing the ruins of one of the ancient Indian villages, with its
mound like a natural hill in the centre. The remains of houses,
enclosures, irrigating streams, and burial mounds, scattered over this
plain, cannot fail to give one a high idea of the condition and number
of the ancient population. When their earthenware, woollen clothes,
utensils of elegant forms cut out of the hardest rocks, tools of
copper, ornaments of precious stones, palaces, and hydraulic works, are
considered, it is impossible not to respect the considerable advance
made by them in the arts of civilisation. The burial
mounds, called Huacas, are really stupendous; although in some places
they appear to be natural hills encased and modelled.
There is also another and very different class of ruins which possesses
some interest, namely, those of old Callao, overwhelmed by the great
earthquake of 1746, and its accompanying wave. The destruction must
have been more complete even than at Talcahuano. Quantities of shingle
almost conceal the foundations of the walls, and vast masses of
brickwork appear to have been whirled about like pebbles by the
retiring waves. It has been stated that the land subsided during this
memorable shock: I could not discover any proof of this; yet it seems
far from improbable, for the form of the coast must certainly have
undergone some change since the foundation of the old town; as no
people in their senses would willingly have chosen for their building
place the narrow spit of shingle on which the ruins now stand. Since
our voyage, M. Tschudi has come to the conclusion, by the comparison of
old and modern maps, that the coast both north and south of Lima has
certainly subsided.
On the island of San Lorenzo there are very satisfactory proofs of
elevation within the recent period; this of course is not opposed to
the belief of a small sinking of the ground having subsequently taken
place. The side of this island fronting the Bay of Callao is worn into
three obscure terraces, the lower one of which is covered by a bed a
mile in length, almost wholly composed of shells of eighteen species,
now living in the adjoining sea. The height of this bed is eighty-five
feet. Many of the shells are deeply corroded, and have a much older and
more decayed appearance than those at the height of 500 or 600 feet on
the coast of Chile. These shells are associated with much common salt,
a little sulphate of lime (both probably left by the evaporation of the
spray, as the land slowly rose), together with sulphate of soda and
muriate of lime. They rest on fragments of the underlying sandstone,
and are covered by a few inches thick of detritus. The shells higher up
on this terrace could be traced scaling off in flakes, and falling into
an impalpable powder; and on an upper terrace, at the height of 170
feet, and likewise at some considerably higher points, I found a layer
of saline powder of
exactly similar appearance, and lying in the same relative position. I
have no doubt that this upper layer originally existed as a bed of
shells, like that on the eighty-five-feet ledge; but it does not now
contain even a trace of organic structure. The powder has been analysed
for me by Mr. T. Reeks; it consists of sulphates and muriates both of
lime and soda, with very little carbonate of lime. It is known that
common salt and carbonate of lime left in a mass for some time together
partly decompose each other; though this does not happen with small
quantities in solution. As the half-decomposed shells in the lower
parts are associated with much common salt, together with some of the
saline substances composing the upper saline layer, and as these shells
are corroded and decayed in a remarkable manner, I strongly suspect
that this double decomposition has here taken place. The resultant
salts, however, ought to be carbonate of soda and muriate of lime, the
latter is present, but not the carbonate of soda. Hence I am led to
imagine that by some unexplained means the carbonate of soda becomes
changed into the sulphate. It is obvious that the saline layer could
not have been preserved in any country in which abundant rain
occasionally fell: on the other hand this very circumstance, which at
first sight appears so highly favourable to the long preservation of
exposed shells, has probably been the indirect means, through the
common salt not having been washed away, of their decomposition and
early decay.
I was much interested by finding on the terrace, at the height of
eighty-five feet, _embedded_ amidst the shells and much sea-drifted
rubbish, some bits of cotton thread, plaited rush, and the head of a
stalk of Indian corn: I compared these relics with similar ones taken
out of the Huacas, or old Peruvian tombs, and found them identical in
appearance. On the mainland in front of San Lorenzo, near Bellavista,
there is an extensive and level plain about a hundred feet high, of
which the lower part is formed of alternating layers of sand and impure
clay, together with some gravel, and the surface, to the depth of from
three to six feet, of a reddish loam, containing a few scattered
sea-shells and numerous small fragments of coarse red earthenware, more
abundant at certain spots than at others. At first I was inclined to
believe that this superficial
bed, from its wide extent and smoothness, must have been deposited
beneath the sea; but I afterwards found in one spot that it lay on an
artificial floor of round stones. It seems, therefore, most probable
that at a period when the land stood at a lower level there was a plain
very similar to that now surrounding Callao, which, being protected by
a shingle beach, is raised but very little above the level of the sea.
On this plain, with its underlying red-clay beds, I imagine that the
Indians manufactured their earthen vessels; and that, during some
violent earthquake, the sea broke over the beach, and converted the
plain into a temporary lake, as happened round Callao in 1713 and 1746.
The water would then have deposited mud containing fragments of pottery
from the kilns, more abundant at some spots than at others, and shells
from the sea. This bed with fossil earthenware stands at about the same
height with the shells on the lower terrace of San Lorenzo, in which
the cotton-thread and other relics were embedded. Hence we may safely
conclude that within the Indo-human period there has been an elevation,
as before alluded to, of more than eighty-five feet; for some little
elevation must have been lost by the coast having subsided since the
old maps were engraved. At Valparaiso, although in the 220 years before
our visit the elevation cannot have exceeded nineteen feet, yet
subsequently to 1817 there has been a rise, partly insensible and
partly by a start during the shock of 1822, of ten or eleven feet. The
antiquity of the Indo-human race here, judging by the eighty-five feet
rise of the land since the relics were embedded, is the more
remarkable, as on the coast of Patagonia, when the land stood about the
same number of feet lower, the Macrauchenia was a living beast; but as
the Patagonian coast is some way distant from the Cordillera, the
rising there may have been slower than here. At Bahia Blanca the
elevation has been only a few feet since the numerous gigantic
quadrupeds were there entombed; and, according to the generally
received opinion, when these extinct animals were living man did not
exist. But the rising of that part of the coast of Patagonia is perhaps
no way connected with the Cordillera, but rather with a line of old
volcanic rocks in Banda Oriental, so that it may have been infinitely
slower than on the shores of Peru. All these
speculations, however, must be vague; for who will pretend to say that
there may not have been several periods of subsidence, intercalated
between the movements of elevation? for we know that along the whole
coast of Patagonia there have certainly been many and long pauses in
the upward action of the elevatory forces.
[Illustration: Huacas, Peruvian pottery]
[Illustration: Testudo Abingdonii, Galapagos Islands]
Chapter XVII
GALAPAGOS ARCHIPELAGO
The whole group volcanic—Number of craters—Leafless bushes—Colony at
Charles Island—James Island—Salt-lake in crater—Natural history of the
group—Ornithology, curious finches—Reptiles—Great tortoises, habits
of—Marine Lizard, feeds on Sea-weed—Terrestrial Lizard, burrowing
habits, herbivorous—Importance of reptiles in the Archipelago—Fish,
shells, insects—Botany—American type of organisation—Differences in the
species or races on different islands—Tameness of the birds—Fear of man
an acquired instinct.
_September_ 15_th._—This archipelago consists of ten principal islands,
of which five exceed the others in size. They are situated under the
Equator, and between five and six hundred miles westward of the coast
of America. They are all formed of volcanic rocks; a few fragments of
granite curiously glazed and altered by the heat can hardly be
considered as an
exception. Some of the craters surmounting the larger islands are of
immense size, and they rise to a height of between three and four
thousand feet. Their flanks are studded by innumerable smaller
orifices. I scarcely hesitate to affirm that there must be in the whole
archipelago at least two thousand craters. These consist either of lava
and scoriæ, or of finely-stratified, sandstone-like tuff. Most of the
latter are beautifully symmetrical; they owe their origin to eruptions
of volcanic mud without any lava: it is a remarkable circumstance that
every one of the twenty-eight tuff-craters which were examined had
their southern sides either much lower than the other sides, or quite
broken down and removed. As all these craters apparently have been
formed when standing in the sea, and as the waves from the trade wind
and the swell from the open Pacific here unite their forces on the
southern coasts of all the islands, this singular uniformity in the
broken state of the craters, composed of the soft and yielding tuff, is
easily explained.
Galapagos Archipelago
Considering that these islands are placed directly under the equator,
the climate is far from being excessively hot; this seems chiefly
caused by the singularly low temperature of the
surrounding water, brought here by the great southern Polar current.
Excepting during one short season very little rain falls, and even then
it is irregular; but the clouds generally hang low. Hence, whilst the
lower parts of the islands are very sterile, the upper parts, at a
height of a thousand feet and upwards, possess a damp climate and a
tolerably luxuriant vegetation. This is especially the case on the
windward sides of the islands, which first receive and condense the
moisture from the atmosphere.
In the morning (17th) we landed on Chatham Island, which, like the
others, rises with a tame and rounded outline, broken here and there by
scattered hillocks, the remains of former craters. Nothing could be
less inviting than the first appearance. A broken field of black
basaltic lava, thrown into the most rugged waves, and crossed by great
fissures, is everywhere covered by stunted, sunburnt brushwood, which
shows little signs of life. The dry and parched surface, being heated
by the noonday sun, gave to the air a close and sultry feeling, like
that from a stove: we fancied even that the bushes smelt unpleasantly.
Although I diligently tried to collect as many plants as possible, I
succeeded in getting very few; and such wretched-looking little weeds
would have better become an arctic than an equatorial Flora. The
brushwood appears, from a short distance, as leafless as our trees
during winter; and it was some time before I discovered that not only
almost every plant was now in full leaf, but that the greater number
were in flower. The commonest bush is one of the Euphorbiaceæ: an
acacia and a great odd-looking cactus are the only trees which afford
any shade. After the season of heavy rains, the islands are said to
appear for a short time partially green. The volcanic island of
Fernando Noronha, placed in many respects under nearly similar
conditions, is the only other country where I have seen a vegetation at
all like this of the Galapagos Islands.
The _Beagle_ sailed round Chatham Island, and anchored in several bays.
One night I slept on shore on a part of the island where black
truncated cones were extraordinarily numerous: from one small eminence
I counted sixty of them, all surmounted by craters more or less
perfect. The greater number consisted merely of a ring of red scoriæ or
slags cemented together: and their height above the plain of lava
was not more than from fifty to a hundred feet: none had been very
lately active. The entire surface of this part of the island seems to
have been permeated, like a sieve, by the subterranean vapours: here
and there the lava, whilst soft, has been blown into great bubbles; and
in other parts, the tops of caverns similarly formed have fallen in,
leaving circular pits with steep sides. From the regular form of the
many craters, they gave to the country an artificial appearance, which
vividly reminded me of those parts of Staffordshire where the great
iron-foundries are most numerous. The day was glowing hot, and the
scrambling over the rough surface and through the intricate thickets
was very fatiguing; but I was well repaid by the strange Cyclopean
scene. As I was walking along I met two large tortoises, each of which
must have weighed at least two hundred pounds: one was eating a piece
of cactus, and as I approached, it stared at me and slowly walked away;
the other gave a deep hiss, and drew in its head. These huge reptiles,
surrounded by the black lava, the leafless shrubs, and large cacti,
seemed to my fancy like some antediluvian animals. The few
dull-coloured birds cared no more for me than they did for the great
tortoises.
23_rd._—The _Beagle_ proceeded to Charles Island. This archipelago has
long been frequented, first by the Bucaniers, and latterly by whalers,
but it is only within the last six years that a small colony has been
established here. The inhabitants are between two and three hundred in
number; they are nearly all people of colour, who have been banished
for political crimes from the Republic of the Equator, of which Quito
is the capital. The settlement is placed about four and a half miles
inland, and at a height probably of a thousand feet. In the first part
of the road we passed through leafless thickets, as in Chatham Island.
Higher up the woods gradually became greener; and as soon as we crossed
the ridge of the island we were cooled by a fine southerly breeze, and
our sight refreshed by a green and thriving vegetation. In this upper
region coarse grasses and ferns abound; but there are no tree-ferns: I
saw nowhere any member of the Palm family, which is the more singular,
as 360 miles northward, Cocos Island takes its name from the number of
cocoa-nuts. The houses are irregularly scattered over a flat space of
ground,
which is cultivated with sweet potatoes and bananas. It will not easily
be imagined how pleasant the sight of black mud was to us, after having
been so long accustomed to the parched soil of Peru and Northern Chile.
The inhabitants, although complaining of poverty, obtain, without much
trouble, the means of subsistence. In the woods there are many wild
pigs and goats; but the staple article of animal food is supplied by
the tortoises. Their numbers have of course been greatly reduced in
this island, but the people yet count on two days’ hunting giving them
food for the rest of the week. It is said that formerly single vessels
have taken away as many as seven hundred, and that the ship’s company
of a frigate some years since brought down in one day two hundred
tortoises to the beach.
_September_ 29_th._—We doubled the south-west extremity of Albemarle
Island, and the next day were nearly becalmed between it and Narborough
Island. Both are covered with immense deluges of black naked lava,
which have flowed either over the rims of the great caldrons, like
pitch over the rim of a pot in which it has been boiled, or have burst
forth from smaller orifices on the flanks; in their descent they have
spread over miles of the sea-coast. On both of these islands eruptions
are known to have taken place; and in Albemarle we saw a small jet of
smoke curling from the summit of one of the great craters. In the
evening we anchored in Bank’s Cove, in Albemarle Island. The next
morning I went out walking. To the south of the broken tuff-crater, in
which the _Beagle_ was anchored, there was another beautifully
symmetrical one of an elliptic form; its longer axis was a little less
than a mile, and its depth about 500 feet. At its bottom there was a
shallow lake, in the middle of which a tiny crater formed an islet. The
day was overpoweringly hot, and the lake looked clear and blue: I
hurried down the cindery slope, and, choked with dust, eagerly tasted
the water—but, to my sorrow, I found it salt as brine.
The rocks on the coast abounded with great black lizards, between three
and four feet long; and on the hills, an ugly yellowish-brown species
was equally common. We saw many of this latter kind, some clumsily
running out of the way, and others shuffling into their burrows. I
shall presently describe
in more detail the habits of both these reptiles. The whole of this
northern part of Albemarle Island is miserably sterile.
_October_ 8_th._—We arrived at James Island: this island, as well as
Charles Island, were long since thus named after our kings of the
Stuart line. Mr. Bynoe, myself, and our servants were left here for a
week, with provisions and a tent, whilst the _Beagle_ went for water.
We found here a party of Spaniards who had been sent from Charles
Island to dry fish and to salt tortoise-meat. About six miles inland
and at the height of nearly 2000 feet, a hovel had been built in which
two men lived, who were employed in catching tortoises, whilst the
others were fishing on the coast. I paid this party two visits, and
slept there one night. As in the other islands, the lower region was
covered by nearly leafless bushes, but the trees were here of a larger
growth than elsewhere, several being two feet and some even two feet
nine inches in diameter. The upper region, being kept damp by the
clouds, supports a green and flourishing vegetation. So damp was the
ground, that there were large beds of a coarse cyperus, in which great
numbers of a very small water-rail lived and bred. While staying in
this upper region, we lived entirely upon tortoise-meat: the
breast-plate roasted (as the Gauchos do carne con cuero), with the
flesh on it, is very good; and the young tortoises make excellent soup;
but otherwise the meat to my taste is indifferent.
One day we accompanied a party of the Spaniards in their whale-boat to
a salina, or lake from which salt is procured. After landing we had a
very rough walk over a rugged field of recent lava, which has almost
surrounded a tuff-crater at the bottom of which the salt-lake lies. The
water is only three or four inches deep and rests on a layer of
beautifully crystallised, white salt. The lake is quite circular, and
is fringed with a border of bright green succulent plants; the almost
precipitous walls of the crater are clothed with wood, so that the
scene was altogether both picturesque and curious. A few years since
the sailors belonging to a sealing-vessel murdered their captain in
this quiet spot; and we saw his skull lying among the bushes.
During the greater part of our stay of a week the sky was cloudless,
and if the trade-wind failed for an hour the heat
became very oppressive. On two days the thermometer within the tent
stood for some hours at 93°; but in the open air, in the wind and sun,
at only 85°. The sand was extremely hot; the thermometer placed in some
of a brown colour immediately rose to 137°, and how much above that it
would have risen I do not know for it was not graduated any higher. The
black sand felt much hotter, so that even in thick boots it was quite
disagreeable to walk over it.
The natural history of these islands is eminently curious, and well
deserves attention. Most of the organic productions are aboriginal
creations found nowhere else; there is even a difference between the
inhabitants of the different islands; yet all show a marked
relationship with those of America, though separated from that
continent by an open space of ocean, between 500 and 600 miles in
width. The archipelago is a little world within itself, or rather a
satellite attached to America, whence it has derived a few stray
colonists, and has received the general character of its indigenous
productions. Considering the small size of these islands, we feel the
more astonished at the number of their aboriginal beings, and at their
confined range. Seeing every height crowned with its crater, and the
boundaries of most of the lava-streams still distinct, we are led to
believe that within a period geologically recent the unbroken ocean was
here spread out. Hence, both in space and time, we seem to be brought
somewhat near to that great fact—that mystery of mysteries—the first
appearance of new beings on this earth.
Of terrestrial mammals there is only one which must be considered as
indigenous, namely a mouse (Mus Galapagoensis) and this is confined, as
far as I could ascertain, to Chatham Island, the most easterly island
of the group. It belongs, as I am informed by Mr. Waterhouse, to a
division of the family of mice characteristic of America. At James
Island there is a rat sufficiently distinct from the common kind to
have been named and described by Mr. Waterhouse; but as it belongs to
the old-world division of the family, and as this island has been
frequented by ships for the last hundred and fifty years, I can hardly
doubt that this rat is merely a variety produced by the new and
peculiar climate, food, and soil, to which it has
been subjected. Although no one has a right to speculate without
distinct facts, yet even with respect to the Chatham Island mouse, it
should be borne in mind that it may possibly be an American species
imported here; for I have seen, in a most unfrequented part of the
Pampas, a native mouse living in the roof of a newly built hovel, and
therefore its transportation in a vessel is not improbable: analogous
facts have been observed by Dr. Richardson in North America.
Of land-birds I obtained twenty-six kinds, all peculiar to the group
and found nowhere else, with the exception of one lark-like finch from
North America (Dolichonyx oryzivorus) which ranges on that continent as
far north as 54°, and generally frequents marshes. The other
twenty-five birds consist, firstly, of a hawk, curiously intermediate
in structure between a Buzzard and the American group of
carrion-feeding Polybori; and with these latter birds it agrees most
closely in every habit and even tone of voice. Secondly there are two
owls, representing the short-eared and white barn-owls of Europe.
Thirdly a wren, three tyrant-flycatchers (two of them species of
Pyrocephalus, one or both of which would be ranked by some
ornithologists as only varieties), and a dove—all analogous to, but
distinct from, American species. Fourthly a swallow, which though
differing from the Progne purpurea of both Americas, only in being
rather duller coloured, smaller, and slenderer, is considered by Mr.
Gould as specifically distinct. Fifthly there are three species of
mocking-thrush—a form highly characteristic of America. The remaining
land-birds form a most singular group of finches, related to each other
in the structure of their beaks, short tails, form of body and plumage:
there are thirteen species which Mr. Gould has divided into four
sub-groups. All these species are peculiar to this archipelago; and so
is the whole group, with the exception of one species of the sub-group
Cactornis, lately brought from Bow Island, in the Low Archipelago. Of
Cactornis the two species may be often seen climbing about the flowers
of the great cactus-trees; but all the other species of this group of
finches, mingled together in flocks, feed on the dry and sterile ground
of the lower districts. The males of all, or certainly of the greater
number, are jet black; and the females (with perhaps one or two
exceptions) are brown. The
most curious fact is the perfect gradation in the size of the beaks in
the different species of Geospiza, from one as large as that of a
hawfinch to that of a chaffinch, and (if Mr. Gould is right in
including his sub-group, Certhidea, in the main group) even to that of
a warbler. The largest beak in the genus Geospiza is shown above in
Fig. 1, and the smallest in Fig. 3; but instead of there being only one
intermediate species, with a beak of the size shown in Fig. 2, there
are no less than six species with insensibly graduated beaks. The beak
of the sub-group Certhidea, is shown in Fig. 4. The beak of Cactornis
is somewhat like that of a starling, and that of the fourth sub-group,
Camarhynchus, is slightly parrot-shaped. Seeing this gradation and
diversity of structure in one small, intimately related group of birds,
one might really fancy that from an original paucity of birds in this
archipelago, one species had been taken and modified for different
ends. In a like manner it might be fancied that a bird, originally a
buzzard, had been induced here to undertake the office of the
carrion-feeding Polybori of the American continent.
Finches from Galapagos Archipelago
Of waders and water-birds I was able to get only eleven kinds, and of
these only three (including a rail confined to the damp summits of the
islands) are new species. Considering
the wandering habits of the gulls, I was surprised to find that the
species inhabiting these islands is peculiar, but allied to one from
the southern parts of South America. The far greater peculiarity of the
land-birds, namely, twenty-five out of twenty-six being new species, or
at least new races, compared with the waders and web-footed birds, is
in accordance with the greater range which these latter orders have in
all parts of the world. We shall hereafter see this law of aquatic
forms, whether marine or fresh water, being less peculiar at any given
point of the earth’s surface than the terrestrial forms of the same
classes, strikingly illustrated in the shells, and in a lesser degree
in the insects of this archipelago.
Two of the waders are rather smaller than the same species brought from
other places: the swallow is also smaller, though it is doubtful
whether or not it is distinct from its analogue. The two owls, the two
tyrant-flycatchers (Pyrocephalus) and the dove, are also smaller than
the analogous but distinct species, to which they are most nearly
related; on the other hand, the gull is rather larger. The two owls,
the swallow, all three species of mocking-thrush, the dove in its
separate colours though not in its whole plumage, the Totanus, and the
gull, are likewise duskier coloured than their analogous species; and
in the case of the mocking-thrush and Totanus, than any other species
of the two genera. With the exception of a wren with a fine yellow
breast, and of a tyrant-flycatcher with a scarlet tuft and breast, none
of the birds are brilliantly coloured, as might have been expected in
an equatorial district. Hence it would appear probable that the same
causes which here make the immigrants of some species smaller, make
most of the peculiar Galapageian species also smaller, as well as very
generally more dusky coloured. All the plants have a wretched, weedy
appearance, and I did not see one beautiful flower. The insects, again,
are small-sized and dull coloured, and, as Mr. Waterhouse informs me,
there is nothing in their general appearance which would have led him
to imagine that they had come from under the equator.[1] The birds,
plants,
and insects have a desert character, and are not more brilliantly
coloured than those from southern Patagonia; we may, therefore,
conclude that the usual gaudy colouring of the intertropical
productions is not related either to the heat or light of those zones,
but to some other cause, perhaps to the conditions of existence being
generally favourable to life.
[1] The progress of research has shown that some of these birds, which
were then thought to be confined to the islands, occur on the American
continent. The eminent ornithologist, Mr. Sclater, informs me that
this is the case with the Strix punctatissima and Pyrocephalus nanus;
and probably with the Otus galapagoensis and Zenaida galapagoensis: so
that the number of endemic birds is reduced to twenty-three, or
probably to twenty-one. Mr. Sclater thinks that one or two of these
endemic forms should be ranked rather as varieties than species, which
always seemed to me probable.
We will now turn to the order of reptiles, which gives the most
striking character to the zoology of these islands. The species are not
numerous, but the numbers of individuals of each species are
extraordinarily great. There is one small lizard belonging to a South
American genus, and two species (and probably more) of the
Amblyrhynchus—a genus confined to the Galapagos Islands. There is one
snake which is numerous; it is identical, as I am informed by M.
Bibron, with the Psammophis Temminckii from Chile.[2] Of sea-turtle I
believe there are more than one species, and of tortoises there are, as
we shall presently show, two or three species or races. Of toads and
frogs there are none: I was surprised at this, considering how well
suited for them the temperate and damp upper woods appeared to be. It
recalled to my mind the remark made by Bory St. Vincent,[3] namely,
that none of this family are found on any of the volcanic islands in
the great oceans. As far as I can ascertain from various works, this
seems to hold good throughout the Pacific, and even in the large
islands of the Sandwich archipelago. Mauritius offers an apparent
exception, where I saw the Rana Mascariensis in abundance: this frog is
said now to inhabit the Seychelles, Madagascar, and Bourbon; but on the
other hand, Du Bois, in his voyage in 1669, states that there were no
reptiles in Bourbon except tortoises; and the Officier du Roi asserts
that before 1768 it had been attempted, without success, to
introduce frogs into Mauritius—I presume for the purpose of eating:
hence it may be well doubted whether this frog is an aboriginal of
these islands. The absence of the frog family in the oceanic islands is
the more remarkable, when contrasted with the case of lizards, which
swarm on most of the smallest islands. May this difference not be
caused by the greater facility with which the eggs of lizards,
protected by calcareous shells, might be transported through
salt-water, than could the slimy spawn of frogs?
[2] This is stated by Dr. Günther (_Zoolog. Soc._ Jan. 24th, 1859) to
be a peculiar species, not known to inhabit any other country.
[3] _Voyage aux Quatres Iles d’Afrique._ With respect to the Sandwich
Islands see Tyerman and Bennett’s _Journal_, vol. i, p. 434. For
Mauritius see _Voyage par un Officier,_ etc., Part i, p. 170. There
are no frogs in the Canary Islands (Webb et Berthelot _Hist. Nat. des
Iles Canaries._ I saw none at St. Jago in the Cape de Verds. There are
none at St. Helena.
I will first describe the habits of the tortoise (Testudo nigra,
formerly called Indica), which has been so frequently alluded to. These
animals are found, I believe, on all the islands of the Archipelago;
certainly on the greater number. They frequent in preference the high
damp parts, but they likewise live in the lower and arid districts. I
have already shown, from the numbers which have been caught in a single
day, how very numerous they must be. Some grow to an immense size: Mr.
Lawson, an Englishman, and vice-governor of the colony, told us that he
had seen several so large that it required six or eight men to lift
them from the ground; and that some had afforded as much as two hundred
pounds of meat. The old males are the largest, the females rarely
growing to so great a size: the male can readily be distinguished from
the female by the greater length of its tail. The tortoises which live
on those islands where there is no water, or in the lower and arid
parts of the others, feed chiefly on the succulent cactus. Those which
frequent the higher and damp regions eat the leaves of various trees, a
kind of berry (called guayavita) which is acid and austere, and
likewise a pale green filamentous lichen (Usnera plicata), that hangs
from the boughs of the trees.
The tortoise is very fond of water, drinking large quantities, and
wallowing in the mud. The larger islands alone possess springs, and
these are always situated towards the central parts, and at a
considerable height. The tortoises, therefore, which frequent the lower
districts, when thirsty, are obliged to travel from a long distance.
Hence broad and well-beaten paths branch off in every direction from
the wells down to the sea-coast; and the Spaniards, by following them
up, first discovered the watering-places. When I landed at Chatham
Island, I could not imagine what animal travelled so methodically along
well-chosen tracks. Near the springs it was a curious spectacle to
behold many of these huge creatures, one set eagerly travelling onwards
with outstretched necks, and another set returning, after having drunk
their fill. When the tortoise arrives at the spring, quite regardless
of any spectator, he buries his head in the water above his eyes, and
greedily swallows great mouthfuls, at the rate of about ten in a
minute. The inhabitants say each animal stays three or four days in the
neighbourhood of the water, and then returns to the lower country; but
they differed respecting the frequency of these visits. The animal
probably regulates them according to the nature of the food on which it
has lived. It is, however, certain that tortoises can subsist even on
those islands where there is no other water than what falls during a
few rainy days in the year.
I believe it is well ascertained that the bladder of the frog acts as a
reservoir for the moisture necessary to its existence: such seems to be
the case with the tortoise. For some time after a visit to the springs,
their urinary bladders are distended with fluid, which is said
gradually to decrease in volume, and to become less pure. The
inhabitants, when walking in the lower district, and overcome with
thirst, often take advantage of this circumstance, and drink the
contents of the bladder if full: in one I saw killed, the fluid was
quite limpid, and had only a very slightly bitter taste. The
inhabitants, however, always first drink the water in the pericardium,
which is described as being best.
The tortoises, when purposely moving towards any point, travel by night
and day and arrive at their journey’s end much sooner than would be
expected. The inhabitants, from observing marked individuals, consider
that they travel a distance of about eight miles in two or three days.
One large tortoise, which I watched, walked at the rate of sixty yards
in ten minutes, that is 360 yards in the hour, or four miles a
day,—allowing a little time for it to eat on the road. During the
breeding season, when the male and female are together, the male utters
a hoarse roar or bellowing, which, it is said, can be heard at the
distance of more than a hundred yards. The female never uses her voice,
and the male only at these times; so that when the people hear this
noise, they know that the two are
together. They were at this time (October) laying their eggs. The
female, where the soil is sandy, deposits them together, and covers
them up with sand; but where the ground is rocky she drops them
indiscriminately in any hole: Mr. Bynoe found seven placed in a
fissure. The egg is white and spherical; one which I measured was seven
inches and three-eighths in circumference, and therefore larger than a
hen’s egg. The young tortoises, as soon as they are hatched, fall a
prey in great numbers to the carrion-feeding buzzard. The old ones seem
generally to die from accidents, as from falling down precipices: at
least, several of the inhabitants told me that they never found one
dead without some evident cause.
The inhabitants believe that these animals are absolutely deaf;
certainly they do not overhear a person walking close behind them. I
was always amused when overtaking one of these great monsters, as it
was quietly pacing along, to see how suddenly, the instant I passed, it
would draw in its head and legs, and uttering a deep hiss fall to the
ground with a heavy sound, as if struck dead. I frequently got on their
backs, and then giving a few raps on the hinder part of their shells,
they would rise up and walk away;—but I found it very difficult to keep
my balance. The flesh of this animal is largely employed, both fresh
and salted; and a beautifully clear oil is prepared from the fat. When
a tortoise is caught, the man makes a slit in the skin near its tail,
so as to see inside its body, whether the fat under the dorsal plate is
thick. If it is not, the animal is liberated; and it is said to recover
soon from this strange operation. In order to secure the tortoises, it
is not sufficient to turn them like turtle, for they are often able to
get on their legs again.
There can be little doubt that this tortoise is an aboriginal
inhabitant of the Galapagos; for it is found on all, or nearly all, the
islands, even on some of the smaller ones where there is no water; had
it been an imported species this would hardly have been the case in a
group which has been so little frequented. Moreover, the old Bucaniers
found this tortoise in greater numbers even than at present: Wood and
Rogers also, in 1708, say that it is the opinion of the Spaniards that
it is found nowhere else in this quarter of the world. It is now widely
distributed; but it may be questioned whether it is in
any other place an aboriginal. The bones of a tortoise at Mauritius,
associated with those of the extinct Dodo, have generally been
considered as belonging to this tortoise; if this had been so,
undoubtedly it must have been there indigenous; but M. Bibron informs
me that he believes that it was distinct, as the species now living
there certainly is.
Amblyrhynchus Cristatus
The Amblyrhynchus, a remarkable genus of lizards, is confined to this
archipelago; there are two species, resembling each other in general
form, one being terrestrial and the other aquatic. This latter species
(A. cristatus) was first characterised by Mr. Bell, who well foresaw,
from its short, broad head, and strong claws of equal length, that its
habits of life would turn out very peculiar, and different from those
of its nearest ally, the Iguana. It is extremely common on all the
islands throughout the group, and lives exclusively on the rocky
sea-beaches, being never found, at least I never saw one, even ten
yards in-shore. It is a hideous-looking creature, of a dirty black
colour, stupid, and sluggish in its movements. The usual length of a
full-grown one is about a yard, but there are some even four feet long;
a large one weighed twenty pounds: on the island of Albemarle they seem
to grow to a greater size than elsewhere. Their tails are flattened
sideways, and all four feet partially webbed. They are occasionally
seen some hundred yards from the shore, swimming about; and Captain
Collnett, in his Voyage says, “They go to sea in herds a-fishing, and
sun themselves on the rocks; and may be called alligators in
miniature.” It must not, however, be supposed that they live on fish.
When in the water this lizard swims with perfect ease and quickness, by
a serpentine movement of
its body and flattened tail—the legs being motionless and closely
collapsed on its sides. A seaman on board sank one, with a heavy weight
attached to it, thinking thus to kill it directly; but when, an hour
afterwards, he drew up the line, it was quite active. Their limbs and
strong claws are admirably adapted for crawling over the rugged and
fissured masses of lava which everywhere form the coast. In such
situations a group of six or seven of these hideous reptiles may
oftentimes be seen on the black rocks, a few feet above the surf,
basking in the sun with outstretched legs.
I opened the stomachs of several, and found them largely distended with
minced sea-weed (Ulvæ), which grows in thin foliaceous expansions of a
bright green or a dull red colour. I do not recollect having observed
this sea-weed in any quantity on the tidal rocks; and I have reason to
believe it grows at the bottom of the sea, at some little distance from
the coast. If such be the case, the object of these animals
occasionally going out to sea is explained. The stomach contained
nothing but the sea-weed. Mr. Bynoe, however, found a piece of a crab
in one; but this might have got in accidentally, in the same manner as
I have seen a caterpillar, in the midst of some lichen, in the paunch
of a tortoise. The intestines were large, as in other herbivorous
animals. The nature of this lizard’s food, as well as the structure of
its tail and feet, and the fact of its having been seen voluntarily
swimming out at sea, absolutely prove its aquatic habits; yet there is
in this respect one strange anomaly, namely, that when frightened it
will not enter the water. Hence it is easy to drive these lizards down
to any little point overhanging the sea, where they will sooner allow a
person to catch hold of their tails than jump into the water. They do
not seem to have any notion of biting; but when much frightened they
squirt a drop of fluid from each nostril. I threw one several times as
far as I could, into a deep pool left by the retiring tide; but it
invariably returned in a direct line to the spot where I stood. It swam
near the bottom, with a very graceful and rapid movement, and
occasionally aided itself over the uneven ground with its feet. As soon
as it arrived near the edge, but still being under water, it tried to
conceal itself in the tufts of sea-weed, or it entered some crevice. As
soon as it thought
the danger was past, it crawled out on the dry rocks, and shuffled away
as quickly as it could. I several times caught this same lizard, by
driving it down to a point, and though possessed of such perfect powers
of diving and swimming, nothing would induce it to enter the water; and
as often as I threw it in, it returned in the manner above described.
Perhaps this singular piece of apparent stupidity may be accounted for
by the circumstance that this reptile has no enemy whatever on shore,
whereas at sea it must often fall a prey to the numerous sharks. Hence,
probably, urged by a fixed and hereditary instinct that the shore is
its place of safety, whatever the emergency may be, it there takes
refuge.
During our visit (in October) I saw extremely few small individuals of
this species, and none I should think under a year old. From this
circumstance it seems probable that the breeding season had not then
commenced. I asked several of the inhabitants if they knew where it
laid its eggs: they said that they knew nothing of its propagation,
although well acquainted with the eggs of the land kind—a fact,
considering how very common this lizard is, not a little extraordinary.
We will now turn to the terrestrial species (A. Demarlii), with a round
tail, and toes without webs. This lizard, instead of being found like
the other on all the islands, is confined to the central part of the
archipelago, namely to Albemarle, James, Barrington, and Indefatigable
islands. To the southward, in Charles, Hood, and Chatham Islands, and
to the northward, in Towers, Bindloes, and Abingdon, I neither saw nor
heard of any. It would appear as if it had been created in the centre
of the archipelago, and thence had been dispersed only to a certain
distance. Some of these lizards inhabit the high and damp parts of the
islands, but they are much more numerous in the lower and sterile
districts near the coast. I cannot give a more forcible proof of their
numbers, than by stating that when we were left at James Island, we
could not for some time find a spot free from their burrows on which to
pitch our single tent. Like their brothers the sea-kind, they are ugly
animals, of a yellowish orange beneath, and of a brownish-red colour
above: from their low facial angle they have a singularly stupid
appearance. They are, perhaps, of a rather less size than the marine
species; but several of them
weighed between ten and fifteen pounds. In their movements they are
lazy and half torpid. When not frightened, they slowly crawl along with
their tails and bellies dragging on the ground. They often stop, and
doze for a minute or two, with closed eyes and hind legs spread out on
the parched soil.
They inhabit burrows which they sometimes make between fragments of
lava, but more generally on level patches of the soft sandstone-like
tuff. The holes do not appear to be very deep, and they enter the
ground at a small angle; so that when walking over these
lizard-warrens, the soil is constantly giving way, much to the
annoyance of the tired walker. This animal, when making its burrow,
works alternately the opposite sides of its body. One front leg for a
short time scratches up the soil, and throws it towards the hind foot,
which is well placed so as to heave it beyond the mouth of the hole.
That side of the body being tired, the other takes up the task, and so
on alternately. I watched one for a long time, till half its body was
buried; I then walked up and pulled it by the tail; at this it was
greatly astonished, and soon shuffled up to see what was the matter;
and then stared me in the face, as much as to say, “What made you pull
my tail?”
They feed by day, and do not wander far from their burrows; if
frightened, they rush to them with a most awkward gait. Except when
running down hill, they cannot move very fast, apparently from the
lateral position of their legs. They are not at all timorous: when
attentively watching any one, they curl their tails, and, raising
themselves on their front legs, nod their heads vertically, with a
quick movement, and try to look very fierce; but in reality they are
not at all so: if one just stamps on the ground, down go their tails,
and off they shuffle as quickly as they can. I have frequently observed
small fly-eating lizards, when watching anything, nod their heads in
precisely the same manner; but I do not at all know for what purpose.
If this Amblyrhynchus is held and plagued with a stick, it will bite it
very severely; but I caught many by the tail, and they never tried to
bite me. If two are placed on the ground and held together, they will
fight, and bite each other till blood is drawn.
The individuals, and they are the greater number, which inhabit the
lower country, can scarcely taste a drop of water
throughout the year; but they consume much of the succulent cactus, the
branches of which are occasionally broken off by the wind. I several
times threw a piece to two or three of them when together; and it was
amusing enough to see them trying to seize and carry it away in their
mouths, like so many hungry dogs with a bone. They eat very
deliberately, but do not chew their food. The little birds are aware
how harmless these creatures are: I have seen one of the thick-billed
finches picking at one end of a piece of cactus (which is much relished
by all the animals of the lower region), whilst a lizard was eating at
the other end; and afterwards the little bird with the utmost
indifference hopped on the back of the reptile.
I opened the stomachs of several, and found them full of vegetable
fibres and leaves of different trees, especially of an acacia. In the
upper region they live chiefly on the acid and astringent berries of
the guayavita, under which trees I have seen these lizards and the huge
tortoises feeding together. To obtain the acacia-leaves they crawl up
the low stunted trees; and it is not uncommon to see a pair quietly
browsing, whilst seated on a branch several feet above the ground.
These lizards, when cooked, yield a white meat, which is liked by those
whose stomachs soar above all prejudices. Humboldt has remarked that in
intertropical South America all lizards which inhabit dry regions are
esteemed delicacies for the table. The inhabitants state that those
which inhabit the upper damp parts drink water, but that the others do
not, like the tortoises, travel up for it from the lower sterile
country. At the time of our visit, the females had within their bodies
numerous, large, elongated eggs, which they lay in their burrows: the
inhabitants seek them for food.
These two species of Amblyrhynchus agree, as I have already stated, in
their general structure, and in many of their habits. Neither have that
rapid movement, so characteristic of the genera Lacerta and Iguana.
They are both herbivorous, although the kind of vegetation on which
they feed is so very different. Mr. Bell has given the name to the
genus from the shortness of the snout: indeed, the form of the mouth
may almost be compared to that of the tortoise: one is led to suppose
that this is an adaptation to their herbivorous appetites. It is very
interesting thus to find a well-characterised genus,
having its marine and terrestrial species, belonging to so confined a
portion of the world. The aquatic species is by far the most
remarkable, because it is the only existing lizard which lives on
marine vegetable productions. As I at first observed, these islands are
not so remarkable for the number of the species of reptiles, as for
that of the individuals, when we remember the well-beaten paths made by
the thousands of huge tortoises—the many turtles—the great warrens of
the terrestrial Amblyrhynchus—and the groups of the marine species
basking on the coast-rocks of every island—we must admit that there is
no other quarter of the world where this Order replaces the herbivorous
mammalia in so extraordinary a manner. The geologist on hearing this
will probably refer back in his mind to the Secondary epochs, when
lizards, some herbivorous, some carnivorous, and of dimensions
comparable only with our existing whales, swarmed on the land and in
the sea. It is, therefore, worthy of his observation that this
archipelago, instead of possessing a humid climate and rank vegetation,
cannot be considered otherwise than extremely arid, and, for an
equatorial region, remarkably temperate.
To finish with the zoology: the fifteen kinds of sea-fish which I
procured here are all new species; they belong to twelve genera, all
widely distributed, with the exception of Prionotus, of which the four
previously known species live on the eastern side of America. Of
land-shells I collected sixteen kinds (and two marked varieties) of
which, with the exception of one Helix found at Tahiti, all are
peculiar to this archipelago: a single fresh-water shell (Paludina) is
common to Tahiti and Van Diemen’s Land. Mr. Cuming, before our voyage,
procured here ninety species of sea-shells, and this does not include
several species not yet specifically examined, of Trochus, Turbo,
Monodonta, and Nassa. He has been kind enough to give me the following
interesting results: of the ninety shells, no less than forty-seven are
unknown elsewhere—a wonderful fact, considering how widely distributed
sea-shells generally are. Of the forty-three shells found in other
parts of the world, twenty-five inhabit the western coast of America,
and of these eight are distinguishable as varieties; the remaining
eighteen (including one variety) were found by Mr. Cuming in the Low
Archipelago, and some of them also at the Philippines. This fact of
shells
from islands in the central parts of the Pacific occurring here,
deserves notice, for not one single sea-shell is known to be common to
the islands of that ocean and to the west coast of America. The space
of open sea running north and south off the west coast separates two
quite distinct conchological provinces; but at the Galapagos
Archipelago we have a halting-place, where many new forms have been
created, and whither these two great conchological provinces have each
sent several colonists. The American province has also sent here
representative species; for there is a Galapageian species of
Monoceros, a genus only found on the west coast of America; and there
are Galapageian species of Fissurella and Cancellaria, genera common on
the west coast, but not found (as I am informed by Mr. Cuming) in the
central islands of the Pacific. On the other hand, there are
Galapageian species of Oniscia and Stylifer, genera common to the West
Indies and to the Chinese and Indian seas, but not found either on the
west coast of America or in the central Pacific. I may here add, that
after the comparison by Messrs. Cuming and Hinds of about 2000 shells
from the eastern and western coasts of America, only one single shell
was found in common, namely, the Purpura patula, which inhabits the
West Indies, the coast of Panama, and the Galapagos. We have,
therefore, in this quarter of the world, three great conchological
sea-provinces, quite distinct, though surprisingly near each other,
being separated by long north and south spaces either of land or of
open sea.
I took great pains in collecting the insects, but excepting Tierra del
Fuego, I never saw in this respect so poor a country. Even in the upper
and damp region I procured very few, excepting some minute Diptera and
Hymenoptera, mostly of common mundane forms. As before remarked, the
insects, for a tropical region, are of very small size and dull
colours. Of beetles I collected twenty-five species (excluding a
Dermestes and Corynetes imported wherever a ship touches); of these,
two belong to the Harpalidæ, two to the Hydrophilidæ, nine to three
families of the Heteromera, and the remaining twelve to as many
different families. This circumstance of insects (and I may add
plants), where few in number, belonging to many different families, is,
I believe, very general. Mr. Waterhouse, who has published[4]
an account of the insects of this archipelago, and to whom I am
indebted for the above details, informs me that there are several new
genera; and that of the genera not new, one or two are American, and
the rest of mundane distribution. With the exception of a wood-feeding
Apate, and of one or probably two water-beetles from the American
continent, all the species appear to be new.
[4] _Ann. and Mag. of Nat. Hist.,_ vol. xvi, p. 19.
The botany of this group is fully as interesting as the zoology. Dr. J.
Hooker will soon publish in the “Linnean Transactions” a full account
of the Flora, and I am much indebted to him for the following details.
Of flowering plants there are, as far as at present is known, 185
species, and 40 cryptogamic species, making together 225; of this
number I was fortunate enough to bring home 193. Of the flowering
plants, 100 are new species, and are probably confined to this
archipelago. Dr. Hooker conceives that, of the plants not so confined,
at least 10 species found near the cultivated ground at Charles Island
have been imported. It is, I think, surprising that more American
species have not been introduced naturally, considering that the
distance is only between 500 and 600 miles from the continent, and that
(according to Collnet, page 58) drift-wood, bamboos, canes, and the
nuts of a palm, are often washed on the south-eastern shores. The
proportion of 100 flowering plants out of 185 (or 175 excluding the
imported weeds) being new, is sufficient, I conceive, to make the
Galapagos Archipelago a distinct botanical province; but this Flora is
not nearly so peculiar as that of St. Helena, nor, as I am informed by
Dr. Hooker, of Juan Fernandez. The peculiarity of the Galapageian Flora
is best shown in certain families;—thus there are 21 species of
Compositæ, of which 20 are peculiar to this archipelago; these belong
to twelve genera, and of these genera no less than ten are confined to
the archipelago! Dr. Hooker informs me that the Flora has an undoubted
Western American character; nor can he detect in it any affinity with
that of the Pacific. If, therefore, we except the eighteen marine, the
one fresh-water, and one land-shell, which have apparently come here as
colonists from the central islands of the Pacific, and likewise the one
distinct Pacific species of the Galapageian group of finches, we see
that this archipelago, though standing in the Pacific Ocean, is
zoologically part of America.
If this character were owing merely to immigrants from America, there
would be little remarkable in it; but we see that a vast majority of
all the land animals, and that more than half of the flowering plants,
are aboriginal productions. It was most striking to be surrounded by
new birds, new reptiles, new shells, new insects, new plants, and yet
by innumerable trifling details of structure, and even by the tones of
voice and plumage of the birds, to have the temperate plains of
Patagonia, or the hot dry deserts of Northern Chile, vividly brought
before my eyes. Why, on these small points of land, which within a late
geological period must have been covered by the ocean, which are formed
of basaltic lava, and therefore differ in geological character from the
American continent, and which are placed under a peculiar climate,—why
were their aboriginal inhabitants, associated, I may add, in different
proportions both in kind and number from those on the continent, and
therefore acting on each other in a different manner—why were they
created on American types of organisation? It is probable that the
islands of the Cape de Verd group resemble, in all their physical
conditions, far more closely the Galapagos Islands than these latter
physically resemble the coast of America, yet the aboriginal
inhabitants of the two groups are totally unlike; those of the Cape de
Verd Islands bearing the impress of Africa, as the inhabitants of the
Galapagos Archipelago are stamped with that of America.
I have not as yet noticed by far the most remarkable feature in the
natural history of this archipelago; it is, that the different islands
to a considerable extent are inhabited by a different set of beings. My
attention was first called to this fact by the Vice-Governor, Mr.
Lawson, declaring that the tortoises differed from the different
islands, and that he could with certainty tell from which island any
one was brought. I did not for some time pay sufficient attention to
this statement, and I had already partially mingled together the
collections from two of the islands. I never dreamed that islands,
about 50 or 60 miles apart, and most of them in sight of each other,
formed of precisely the same rocks, placed under a quite similar
climate, rising to a nearly equal height, would have been differently
tenanted; but we shall soon see that this is
the case. It is the fate of most voyagers, no sooner to discover what
is most interesting in any locality, than they are hurried from it; but
I ought, perhaps, to be thankful that I obtained sufficient materials
to establish this most remarkable fact in the distribution of organic
beings.
The inhabitants, as I have said, state that they can distinguish the
tortoises from the different islands; and that they differ not only in
size, but in other characters. Captain Porter has described[5] those
from Charles and from the nearest island to it, namely, Hood Island, as
having their shells in front thick and turned up like a Spanish saddle,
whilst the tortoises from James Island are rounder, blacker, and have a
better taste when cooked. M. Bibron, moreover, informs me that he has
seen what he considers two distinct species of tortoise from the
Galapagos, but he does not know from which islands. The specimens that
I brought from three islands were young ones: and probably owing to
this cause neither Mr. Gray nor myself could find in them any specific
differences. I have remarked that the marine Amblyrhynchus was larger
at Albemarle Island than elsewhere; and M. Bibron informs me that he
has seen two distinct aquatic species of this genus; so that the
different islands probably have their representative species or races
of the Amblyrhynchus, as well as of the tortoise. My attention was
first thoroughly aroused by comparing together the numerous specimens,
shot by myself and several other parties on board, of the
mocking-thrushes, when, to my astonishment, I discovered that all those
from Charles Island belonged to one species (Mimus trifasciatus) all
from Albemarle Island to M. parvulus; and all from James and Chatham
Islands (between which two other islands are situated, as connecting
links) belonged to M. melanotis. These two latter species are closely
allied, and would by some ornithologists be considered as only
well-marked races or varieties; but the Mimus trifasciatus is very
distinct. Unfortunately most of the specimens of the finch tribe were
mingled together; but I have strong reasons to suspect that some of the
species of the sub-group Geospiza are confined to separate islands. If
the different islands have their representatives of Geospiza, it may
help to explain the singularly
large number of the species of this sub-group in this one small
archipelago, and as a probable consequence of their numbers, the
perfectly graduated series in the size of their beaks. Two species of
the sub-group Cactornis, and two of the Camarhynchus, were procured in
the archipelago; and of the numerous specimens of these two sub-groups
shot by four collectors at James Island, all were found to belong to
one species of each; whereas the numerous specimens shot either on
Chatham or Charles Island (for the two sets were mingled together) all
belonged to the two other species: hence we may feel almost sure that
these islands possess their representative species of these two
sub-groups. In land-shells this law of distribution does not appear to
hold good. In my very small collection of insects, Mr. Waterhouse
remarks that of those which were ticketed with their locality, not one
was common to any two of the islands.
[5] _Voyage in the U.S. ship Essex,_ vol. i, p. 215.
If we now turn to the Flora, we shall find the aboriginal plants of the
different islands wonderfully different. I give all the following
results on the high authority of my friend Dr. J. Hooker. I may premise
that I indiscriminately collected everything in flower on the different
islands, and fortunately kept my collections separate. Too much
confidence, however, must not be placed in the proportional results, as
the small collections brought home by some other naturalists though in
some respects confirming the results, plainly show that much remains to
be done in the botany of this group: the Leguminosæ, moreover, have as
yet been only approximately worked out:—
Name Total No. of No. of No. No. of Species
of No. of Species found Species confined confined to the
Island Species in other confined to the one Galapagos
parts of to the Island Archipelago,
the world Galapagos but found on
Archipelago more than the
one Island
James Island 71 33 38 30 8
Albermarle Island 46 18 26 22 4
Chatham Island 32 16 16 12 4
Charles Island 68 39 29 21 8
(or 29, if the
probably
imported plants
be subtracted)
Hence we have the truly wonderful fact, that in James Island, of the
thirty-eight Galapageian plants, or those found in no other part of the
world, thirty are exclusively confined to this one island; and in
Albemarle Island, of the twenty-six aboriginal Galapageian plants,
twenty-two are confined to this one island, that is, only four are at
present known to grow in the other islands of the archipelago; and so
on, as shown in the above table, with the plants from Chatham and
Charles Islands. This fact will, perhaps, be rendered even more
striking, by giving a few illustrations:—thus, Scalesia, a remarkable
arborescent genus of the Compositæ, is confined to the archipelago: it
has six species: one from Chatham, one from Albemarle, one from Charles
Island, two from James Island, and the sixth from one of the three
latter islands, but it is not known from which: not one of these six
species grows on any two islands. Again, Euphorbia, a mundane or widely
distributed genus, has here eight species, of which seven are confined
to the archipelago, and not one found on any two islands: Acalypha and
Borreria, both mundane genera, have respectively six and seven species,
none of which have the same species on two islands, with the exception
of one Borreria, which does occur on two islands. The species of the
Compositæ are particularly local; and Dr. Hooker has furnished me with
several other most striking illustrations of the difference of the
species on the different islands. He remarks that this law of
distribution holds good both with those genera confined to the
archipelago, and those distributed in other quarters of the world: in
like manner we have seen that the different islands have their proper
species of the mundane genus of tortoise, and of the widely distributed
American genus of the mocking-thrush, as well as of two of the
Galapageian sub-groups of finches, and almost certainly of the
Galapageian genus Amblyrhynchus.
The distribution of the tenants of this archipelago would not be nearly
so wonderful, if, for instance, one island had a mocking-thrush, and a
second island some other quite distinct genus;—if one island had its
genus of lizard, and a second island another distinct genus, or none
whatever;—or if the different islands were inhabited, not by
representative species of the same genera of plants, but by totally
different
genera, as does to a certain extent hold good; for, to give one
instance, a large berry-bearing tree at James Island has no
representative species in Charles Island. But it is the circumstance
that several of the islands possess their own species of the tortoise,
mocking-thrush, finches, and numerous plants, these species having the
same general habits, occupying analogous situations, and obviously
filling the same place in the natural economy of this archipelago, that
strikes me with wonder. It may be suspected that some of these
representative species, at least in the case of the tortoise and of
some of the birds, may hereafter prove to be only well-marked races;
but this would be of equally great interest to the philosophical
naturalist. I have said that most of the islands are in sight of each
other: I may specify that Charles Island is fifty miles from the
nearest part of Chatham Island, and thirty-three miles from the nearest
part of Albemarle Island. Chatham Island is sixty miles from the
nearest part of James Island, but there are two intermediate islands
between them which were not visited by me. James Island is only ten
miles from the nearest part of Albemarle Island, but the two points
where the collections were made are thirty-two miles apart. I must
repeat, that neither the nature of the soil, nor height of the land,
nor the climate, nor the general character of the associated beings,
and therefore their action one on another, can differ much in the
different islands. If there be any sensible difference in their
climates, it must be between the windward group (namely, Charles and
Chatham Islands), and that to leeward; but there seems to be no
corresponding difference in the productions of these two halves of the
archipelago.
The only light which I can throw on this remarkable difference in the
inhabitants of the different islands is that very strong currents of
the sea running in a westerly and W.N.W. direction must separate, as
far as transportal by the sea is concerned, the southern islands from
the northern ones; and between these northern islands a strong N.W.
current was observed, which must effectually separate James and
Albemarle Islands. As the archipelago is free to a most remarkable
degree from gales of wind, neither the birds, insects, nor lighter
seeds, would be blown from island to island. And lastly, the profound
depth of the ocean between the islands, and their
apparently recent (in a geological sense) volcanic origin, render it
highly unlikely that they were ever united; and this, probably, is a
far more important consideration than any other with respect to the
geographical distribution of their inhabitants. Reviewing the facts
here given, one is astonished at the amount of creative force, if such
an expression may be used, displayed on these small, barren, and rocky
islands; and still more so, at its diverse yet analogous action on
points so near each other. I have said that the Galapagos Archipelago
might be called a satellite attached to America, but it should rather
be called a group of satellites, physically similar, organically
distinct, yet intimately related to each other, and all related in a
marked though much lesser degree, to the great American continent.
I will conclude my description of the natural history of these islands
by giving an account of the extreme tameness of the birds.
This disposition is common to all the terrestrial species; namely, to
the mocking-thrushes, the finches, wrens, tyrant-flycatchers, the dove,
and carrion-buzzard. All of them often approached sufficiently near to
be killed with a switch, and sometimes, as I myself tried, with a cap
or hat. A gun is here almost superfluous; for with the muzzle I pushed
a hawk off the branch of a tree. One day, whilst lying down, a
mocking-thrush alighted on the edge of a pitcher, made of the shell of
a tortoise, which I held in my hand, and began very quietly to sip the
water; it allowed me to lift it from the ground whilst seated on the
vessel: I often tried, and very nearly succeeded, in catching these
birds by their legs. Formerly the birds appear to have been even tamer
than at present. Cowley (in the year 1684) says that the “Turtledoves
were so tame, that they would often alight on our hats and arms, so as
that we could take them alive: they not fearing man, until such time as
some of our company did fire at them, whereby they were rendered more
shy.” Dampier also, in the same year, says that a man in a morning’s
walk might kill six or seven dozen of these doves. At present, although
certainly very tame, they do not alight on people’s arms, nor do they
suffer themselves to be killed in such large
numbers. It is surprising that they have not become wilder; for these
islands during the last hundred and fifty years have been frequently
visited by bucaniers and whalers; and the sailors, wandering through
the wood in search of tortoises, always take cruel delight in knocking
down the little birds.
These birds, although now still more persecuted, do not readily become
wild: in Charles Island, which had then been colonised about six years,
I saw a boy sitting by a well with a switch in his hand, with which he
killed the doves and finches as they came to drink. He had already
procured a little heap of them for his dinner, and he said that he had
constantly been in the habit of waiting by this well for the same
purpose. It would appear that the birds of this archipelago, not having
as yet learnt that man is a more dangerous animal than the tortoise or
the Amblyrhynchus, disregard him, in the same manner as in England shy
birds, such as magpies, disregard the cows and horses grazing in our
fields.
The Falkland Islands offer a second instance of birds with a similar
disposition. The extraordinary tameness of the little Opetiorhynchus
has been remarked by Pernety, Lesson, and other voyagers. It is not,
however, peculiar to that bird: the Polyborus, snipe, upland and
lowland goose, thrush, bunting, and even some true hawks, are all more
or less tame. As the birds are so tame there, where foxes, hawks, and
owls occur, we may infer that the absence of all rapacious animals at
the Galapagos is not the cause of their tameness here. The upland geese
at the Falklands show, by the precaution they take in building on the
islets, that they are aware of their danger from the foxes; but they
are not by this rendered wild towards man. This tameness of the birds,
especially of the waterfowl, is strongly contrasted with the habits of
the same species in Tierra del Fuego, where for ages past they have
been persecuted by the wild inhabitants. In the Falklands, the
sportsman may sometimes kill more of the upland geese in one day than
he can carry home; whereas in Tierra del Fuego it is nearly as
difficult to kill one as it is in England to shoot the common wild
goose.
In the time of Pernety (1763) all the birds there appear to have been
much tamer than at present; he states that the Opetiorhynchus would
almost perch on his finger; and that
with a wand he killed ten in half an hour. At that period the birds
must have been about as tame as they now are at the Galapagos. They
appear to have learnt caution more slowly at these latter islands than
at the Falklands, where they have had proportionate means of
experience; for besides frequent visits from vessels, those islands
have been at intervals colonised during the entire period. Even
formerly, when all the birds were so tame, it was impossible by
Pernety’s account to kill the black-necked swan—a bird of passage,
which probably brought with it the wisdom learnt in foreign countries.
I may add that, according to Du Bois, all the birds at Bourbon in
1571-72, with the exception of the flamingoes and geese, were so
extremely tame, that they could be caught by the hand, or killed in any
number with a stick. Again, at Tristan d’Acunha in the Atlantic,
Carmichael[6] states that the only two land-birds, a thrush and a
bunting, were “so tame as to suffer themselves to be caught with a
hand-net.” From these several facts we may, I think, conclude, first,
that the wildness of birds with regard to man is a particular instinct
directed against _him_, and not dependent upon any general degree of
caution arising from other sources of danger; secondly, that it is not
acquired by individual birds in a short time, even when much
persecuted; but that in the course of successive generations it becomes
hereditary. With domesticated animals we are accustomed to see new
mental habits or instincts acquired and rendered hereditary; but with
animals in a state of nature it must always be most difficult to
discover instances of acquired hereditary knowledge. In regard to the
wildness of birds towards man, there is no way of accounting for it,
except as an inherited habit: comparatively few young birds, in any one
year, have been injured by man in England, yet almost all, even
nestlings, are afraid of him; many individuals, on the other hand, both
at the Galapagos and at the Falklands, have
been pursued and injured by man, but yet have not learned a salutary
dread of him. We may infer from these facts, what havoc the
introduction of any new beast of prey must cause in a country, before
the instincts of the indigenous inhabitants have become adapted to the
stranger’s craft or power.
[6] _Linn. Trans._ vol. xii, p. 496. The most anomalous fact on this
subject which I have met with is the wildness of the small birds in
the Arctic parts of North America (as described by Richardson _Fauna
Bor._ vol. ii, p. 332), where they are said never to be persecuted.
This case is the more strange, because it is asserted that some of the
same species in their winter-quarters in the United States are tame.
There is much, as Dr. Richardson well remarks, utterly inexplicable
connected with the different degrees of shyness and care with which
birds conceal their nests. How strange it is that the English
wood-pigeon, generally so wild a bird, should very frequently rear its
young in shrubberies close to houses!
[Illustration: Opuntia Galapageia]
[Illustration: Ava or kava (Macropiper Methysticum), Tahiti]
Chapter XVIII
TAHITI AND NEW ZEALAND
Pass through the Low Archipelago—Tahiti—Aspect—Vegetation on the
mountains—View of Eimeo—Excursion into the interior—Profound
ravines—Succession of waterfalls—Number of wild useful
plants—Temperance of the inhabitants—Their moral state—Parliament
convened—New Zealand—Bay of islands—Hippahs—Excursion to
Waimate—Missionary establishment—English weeds now run
wild—Waiomio—Funeral of a New Zealand woman—Sail for Australia.
_October_ 20_th._—The survey of the Galapagos Archipelago being
concluded, we steered towards Tahiti and commenced our long passage of
3200 miles. In the course of a few days we sailed out of the gloomy and
clouded ocean-district which extends during the winter far from the
coast of South America. We then enjoyed bright and clear weather, while
running pleasantly along at the rate of 150 or 160 miles a day before
the steady trade-wind. The temperature in this more central part of the
Pacific is higher than near the American shore. The
thermometer in the poop cabin, by night and day, ranged between 80° and
83°, which feels very pleasant; but with one degree or two higher, the
heat becomes oppressive. We passed through the Low or Dangerous
Archipelago, and saw several of those most curious rings of coral land,
just rising above the water’s edge, which have been called Lagoon
Islands. A long and brilliantly-white beach is capped by a margin of
green vegetation; and the strip, looking either way, rapidly narrows
away in the distance, and sinks beneath the horizon. From the mast-head
a wide expanse of smooth water can be seen within the ring. These low
hollow coral islands bear no proportion to the vast ocean out of which
they abruptly rise; and it seems wonderful that such weak invaders are
not overwhelmed by the all-powerful and never-tiring waves of that
great sea, miscalled the Pacific.
_November_ 15_th._—At daylight, Tahiti, an island which must for ever
remain classical to the voyager in the South Sea, was in view. At a
distance the appearance was not attractive. The luxuriant vegetation of
the lower part could not yet be seen, and as the clouds rolled past,
the wildest and most precipitous peaks showed themselves towards the
centre of the island. As soon as we anchored in Matavai Bay, we were
surrounded by canoes. This was our Sunday, but the Monday of Tahiti: if
the case had been reversed, we should not have received a single visit;
for the injunction not to launch a canoe on the Sabbath is rigidly
obeyed. After dinner we landed to enjoy all the delights produced by
the first impressions of a new country, and that country the charming
Tahiti. A crowd of men, women, and children, was collected on the
memorable Point Venus, ready to receive us with laughing, merry faces.
They marshalled us towards the house of Mr. Wilson, the missionary of
the district, who met us on the road, and gave us a very friendly
reception. After sitting a short time in his house, we separated to
walk about, but returned there in the evening.
The land capable of cultivation is scarcely in any part more than a
fringe of low alluvial soil, accumulated round the base of the
mountains, and protected from the waves of the sea by a coral reef,
which encircles the entire line of coast. Within the reef there is an
expanse of smooth water, like that of a lake, where
the canoes of the natives can ply with safety and where ships anchor.
The low land which comes down to the beach of coral-sand is covered by
the most beautiful productions of the intertropical regions. In the
midst of bananas, orange, cocoa-nut, and bread-fruit trees, spots are
cleared where yams, sweet potatoes, the sugar-cane, and pine-apples are
cultivated. Even the brushwood is an imported fruit-tree, namely, the
guava, which from its abundance has become as noxious as a weed. In
Brazil I have often admired the varied beauty of the bananas, palms,
and orange-trees contrasted together; and here we also have the
bread-fruit, conspicuous from its large, glossy, and deeply digitated
leaf. It is admirable to behold groves of a tree, sending forth its
branches with the vigour of an English oak, loaded with large and most
nutritious fruit. However seldom the usefulness of an object can
account for the pleasure of beholding it, in the case of these
beautiful woods, the knowledge of their high productiveness no doubt
enters largely into the feeling of admiration. The little winding
paths, cool from the surrounding shade, led to the scattered houses;
the owners of which everywhere gave us a cheerful and most hospitable
reception.
I was pleased with nothing so much as with the inhabitants. There is a
mildness in the expression of their countenances which at once banishes
the idea of a savage; and an intelligence which shows that they are
advancing in civilisation. The common people, when working, keep the
upper part of their bodies quite naked; and it is then that the
Tahitians are seen to advantage. They are very tall, broad-shouldered,
athletic, and well-proportioned. It has been remarked that it requires
little habit to make a dark skin more pleasing and natural to the eye
of a European than his own colour. A white man bathing by the side of a
Tahitian was like a plant bleached by the gardener’s art compared with
a fine dark green one growing vigorously in the open fields. Most of
the men are tattooed, and the ornaments follow the curvature of the
body so gracefully that they have a very elegant effect. One common
pattern, varying in its details, is somewhat like the crown of a
palm-tree. It springs from the central line of the back, and gracefully
curls round both sides. The simile may be a fanciful one, but I thought
the body of a man thus ornamented
was like the trunk of a noble tree embraced by a delicate creeper.
Many of the elder people had their feet covered with small figures, so
placed as to resemble a sock. This fashion, however, is partly gone by,
and has been succeeded by others. Here, although fashion is far from
immutable, every one must abide by that prevailing in his youth. An old
man has thus his age for ever stamped on his body, and he cannot assume
the airs of a young dandy. The women are tattooed in the same manner as
the men, and very commonly on their fingers. One unbecoming fashion is
now almost universal: namely, shaving the hair from the upper part of
the head, in a circular form, so as to leave only an outer ring. The
missionaries have tried to persuade the people to change this habit;
but it is the fashion, and that is a sufficient answer at Tahiti, as
well as at Paris. I was much disappointed in the personal appearance of
the women: they are far inferior in every respect to the men. The
custom of wearing a white or scarlet flower in the back of the head, or
through a small hole in each ear, is pretty. A crown of woven cocoa-nut
leaves is also worn as a shade for the eyes. The women appear to be in
greater want of some becoming costume even than the men.
Nearly all the natives understand a little English—that is, they know
the names of common things; and by the aid of this, together with
signs, a lame sort of conversation could be carried on. In returning in
the evening to the boat, we stopped to witness a very pretty scene.
Numbers of children were playing on the beach, and had lighted bonfires
which illumined the placid sea and surrounding trees; others, in
circles, were singing Tahitian verses. We seated ourselves on the sand,
and joined their party. The songs were impromptu, and I believe related
to our arrival: one little girl sang a line, which the rest took up in
parts, forming a very pretty chorus. The whole scene made us
unequivocally aware that we were seated on the shores of an island in
the far-famed South Sea.
17_th._—This day is reckoned in the log-book as Tuesday the 17th,
instead of Monday the 16th, owing to our, so far, successful chase of
the sun. Before breakfast the ship was hemmed in by a flotilla of
canoes; and when the natives were allowed to come on board, I suppose
there could not have
been less than two hundred. It was the opinion of every one that it
would have been difficult to have picked out an equal number from any
other nation, who would have given so little trouble. Everybody brought
something for sale: shells were the main article of trade. The
Tahitians now fully understand the value of money, and prefer it to old
clothes or other articles. The various coins, however, of English and
Spanish denomination puzzle them, and they never seemed to think the
small silver quite secure until changed into dollars. Some of the
chiefs have accumulated considerable sums of money. One chief, not long
since, offered 800 dollars (about £160 sterling) for a small vessel;
and frequently they purchase whale-boats and horses at the rate of from
50 to 100 dollars.
After breakfast I went on shore, and ascended the nearest slope to a
height of between two and three thousand feet. The outer mountains are
smooth and conical, but steep; and the old volcanic rocks, of which
they are formed, have been cut through by many profound ravines,
diverging from the central broken parts of the island to the coast.
Having crossed the narrow low girt of inhabited and fertile land, I
followed a smooth steep ridge between two of the deep ravines. The
vegetation was singular, consisting almost exclusively of small dwarf
ferns, mingled, higher up, with coarse grass; it was not very
dissimilar from that on some of the Welsh hills, and this so close
above the orchard of tropical plants on the coast was very surprising.
At the highest point which I reached trees again appeared. Of the three
zones of comparative luxuriance, the lower one owes its moisture, and
therefore fertility, to its flatness; for, being scarcely raised above
the level of the sea, the water from the higher land drains away
slowly. The intermediate zone does not, like the upper one, reach into
a damp and cloudy atmosphere, and therefore remains sterile. The woods
in the upper zone are very pretty, tree-ferns replacing the cocoa-nuts
on the coast. It must not, however, be supposed that these woods at all
equal in splendour the forests of Brazil. The vast number of
productions, which characterise a continent, cannot be expected to
occur in an island.
Eimeo and Barrier-Reef
From the highest point which I attained there was a good view of the
distant island of Eimeo, dependent on the same
sovereign with Tahiti. On the lofty and broken pinnacles white massive
clouds were piled up, which formed an island in the blue sky, as Eimeo
itself did in the blue ocean. The island, with the exception of one
small gateway, is completely encircled by a reef. At this distance, a
narrow but well-defined brilliantly white line was alone visible, where
the waves first encountered the wall of coral. The mountains rose
abruptly out of the glassy expanse of the lagoon, included within this
narrow white line, outside which the heaving waters of the ocean were
dark-coloured. The view was striking: it may aptly be compared to a
framed engraving, where the frame represents the breakers, the marginal
paper the smooth lagoon, and the drawing the island itself. When in the
evening I descended from the mountain, a man, whom I had pleased with a
trifling gift, met me, bringing with him hot roasted bananas, a
pine-apple, and cocoa-nuts. After walking under a burning sun, I do not
know anything more delicious than the milk of a young cocoa-nut.
Pine-apples are here so abundant that the people eat them in the same
wasteful manner as we might turnips. They are of an excellent
flavour—perhaps even better than those cultivated in England; and this
I believe is the highest compliment which can be paid to any fruit.
Before going on board, Mr. Wilson interpreted for me to the Tahitian
who had paid me so adroit an attention, that I wanted him and another
man to accompany me on a short excursion into the mountains.
18_th._—In the morning I came on shore early, bringing with me some
provisions in a bag, and two blankets for myself and servant. These
were lashed to each end of a long pole, which was alternately carried
by my Tahitian companions on their shoulders. These men are accustomed
thus to carry, for a whole day, as much as fifty pounds at each end of
their poles. I told my guides to provide themselves with food and
clothing; but they said that there was plenty of food in the mountains,
and for clothing, that their skins were sufficient. Our line of march
was the valley of Tia-auru, down which a river flows into the sea by
Point Venus. This is one of the principal streams in the island, and
its source lies at the base of the loftiest central pinnacles, which
rise to a height of about
7000 feet. The whole island is so mountainous that the only way to
penetrate into the interior is to follow up the valleys. Our road, at
first, lay through woods which bordered each side of the river; and the
glimpses of the lofty central peaks, seen as through an avenue, with
here and there a waving cocoa-nut tree on one side, were extremely
picturesque. The valley soon began to narrow, and the sides to grow
lofty and more precipitous. After having walked between three and four
hours, we found the width of the ravine scarcely exceeded that of the
bed of the stream. On each hand the walls were nearly vertical; yet
from the soft nature of the volcanic strata, trees and a rank
vegetation sprung from every projecting ledge. These precipices must
have been some thousand feet high; and the whole formed a mountain
gorge far more magnificent than anything which I had ever before
beheld. Until the mid-day sun stood vertically over the ravine, the air
felt cool and damp, but now it became very sultry. Shaded by a ledge of
rock, beneath a façade of columnar lava, we ate our dinner. My guides
had already procured a dish of small fish and fresh-water prawns. They
carried with them a small net stretched on a hoop; and where the water
was deep and in eddies, they dived, and like otters, with their eyes
open followed the fish into holes and corners, and thus caught them.
The Tahitians have the dexterity of amphibious animals in the water. An
anecdote mentioned by Ellis shows how much they feel at home in this
element. When a horse was landing for Pomarre in 1817, the slings
broke, and it fell into the water; immediately the natives jumped
overboard, and by their cries and vain efforts at assistance almost
drowned it. As soon, however, as it reached the shore, the whole
population took to flight, and tried to hide themselves from the
man-carrying pig, as they christened the horse.
A little higher up, the river divided itself into three little streams.
The two northern ones were impracticable, owing to a succession of
waterfalls which descended from the jagged summit of the highest
mountain; the other to all appearance was equally inaccessible, but we
managed to ascend it by a most extraordinary road. The sides of the
valley were here nearly precipitous; but, as frequently happens with
stratified rocks, small ledges projected, which were thickly covered by
wild bananas, liliaceous plants, and other luxuriant productions of the
tropics. The Tahitians, by climbing amongst these ledges, searching for
fruit, had discovered a track by which the whole precipice could be
scaled. The first ascent from the valley was very dangerous; for it was
necessary to pass a steeply inclined face of naked rock by the aid of
ropes which we brought with us. How any person discovered that this
formidable spot was the only point where the side of the mountain was
practicable, I cannot imagine. We then cautiously walked along one of
the ledges till we came to one of the three streams. This ledge formed
a flat spot above which a beautiful cascade, some hundred feet in
height, poured down its waters, and beneath, another high cascade fell
into the main stream in the valley below. From this cool and shady
recess we made a circuit to avoid the overhanging waterfall. As before,
we followed little projecting ledges, the danger being partly concealed
by the thickness of the vegetation. In passing from one of the ledges
to another there was a vertical wall of rock. One of the Tahitians, a
fine active man, placed the trunk of a tree against this, climbed up
it, and then by the aid of crevices reached the summit. He fixed the
ropes to a projecting point, and lowered them for our dog and luggage,
and then we clambered up ourselves. Beneath the ledge on which the dead
tree was placed, the precipice must have been five or six hundred feet
deep; and if the abyss had not been partly concealed by the overhanging
ferns and lilies my head would have turned giddy, and nothing should
have induced me to have attempted it. We continued to ascend, sometimes
along ledges, and sometimes along knife-edged ridges, having on each
hand profound ravines. In the Cordillera I have seen mountains on a far
grander scale, but for abruptness nothing at all comparable with this.
In the evening we reached a flat little spot on the banks of the same
stream which we had continued to follow, and which descends in a chain
of waterfalls: here we bivouacked for the night. On each side of the
ravine there were great beds of the mountain-banana, covered with ripe
fruit. Many of these plants were from twenty to twenty-five feet high,
and from three to four in circumference. By the aid of strips of bark
for rope, the stems of bamboos for rafters, and the large leaf of
the banana for a thatch, the Tahitians in a few minutes built us an
excellent house; and with withered leaves made a soft bed.
Fatahua Fall, Tahiti
They then proceeded to make a fire, and cook our evening meal. A light
was procured by rubbing a blunt pointed stick in a groove made in
another, as if with intention of deepening it, until by the friction
the dust became ignited. A peculiarly white and very light wood (the
Hibiscus tiliaceus) is alone used for this purpose: it is the same
which serves for poles to carry any burden, and for the floating
out-riggers to their canoes. The fire was produced in a few seconds:
but to a person who does not understand the art, it requires, as I
found, the greatest exertion; but at last, to my great pride, I
succeeded in igniting the dust. The Gaucho in the Pampas uses a
different method: taking an elastic stick about eighteen inches long,
he presses one end on his breast, and the other pointed end into a hole
in a piece of wood, and then rapidly turns the curved part like a
carpenter’s centre-bit. The Tahitians having made a small fire of
sticks, placed a score of stones of about the size of cricket-balls, on
the burning wood. In about ten minutes the sticks were consumed, and
the stones hot. They had previously folded up in small parcels of
leaves, pieces of beef, fish, ripe and unripe bananas, and the tops of
the wild arum. These green parcels were laid in a layer between two
layers of the hot stones, and the whole then covered up with earth, so
that no smoke or steam could escape. In about a quarter of an hour the
whole was most deliciously cooked. The choice green parcels were now
laid on a cloth of banana leaves, and with a cocoa-nut shell we drank
the cool water of the running stream; and thus we enjoyed our rustic
meal.
I could not look on the surrounding plants without admiration. On every
side were forests of bananas; the fruit of which, though serving for
food in various ways, lay in heaps decaying on the ground. In front of
us there was an extensive brake of wild sugar-cane; and the stream was
shaded by the dark green knotted stem of the Ava,—so famous in former
days for its powerful intoxicating effects. I chewed a piece, and found
that it had an acrid and unpleasant taste, which would have induced any
one at once to have pronounced it poisonous. Thanks to the
missionaries, this plant now thrives
only in these deep ravines, innocuous to every one. Close by I saw the
wild arum, the roots of which, when well baked, are good to eat, and
the young leaves better than spinach. There was the wild yam, and a
liliaceous plant called Ti, which grows in abundance, and has a soft
brown root, in shape and size like a huge log of wood: this served us
for dessert, for it is as sweet as treacle, and with a pleasant taste.
There were, moreover, several other wild fruits, and useful vegetables.
The little stream, besides its cool water, produced eels and crayfish.
I did indeed admire this scene, when I compared it with an uncultivated
one in the temperate zones. I felt the force of the remark that man, at
least savage man, with his reasoning powers only partly developed, is
the child of the tropics.
As the evening drew to a close, I strolled beneath the gloomy shade of
the bananas up the course of the stream. My walk was soon brought to a
close by coming to a waterfall between two and three hundred feet high;
and again above this there was another. I mention all these waterfalls
in this one brook to give a general idea of the inclination of the
land. In the little recess where the water fell, it did not appear that
a breath of wind had ever blown. The thin edges of the great leaves of
the banana, damp with spray, were unbroken, instead of being, as is so
generally the case, split into a thousand shreds. From our position,
almost suspended on the mountain-side, there were glimpses into the
depths of the neighbouring valleys; and the lofty points of the central
mountains, towering up within sixty degrees of the zenith, hid half the
evening sky. Thus seated, it was a sublime spectacle to watch the
shades of night gradually obscuring the last and highest pinnacles.
Before we laid ourselves down to sleep, the elder Tahitian fell on his
knees, and with closed eyes repeated a long prayer in his native
tongue. He prayed as a Christian should do, with fitting reverence, and
without the fear of ridicule or any ostentation of piety. At our meals
neither of the men would taste food, without saying beforehand a short
grace. Those travellers who think that a Tahitian prays only when the
eyes of the missionary are fixed on him, should have slept with us that
night on the mountain-side. Before morning it rained
very heavily; but the good thatch of banana-leaves kept us dry.
[Illustration]
_November_ 19_th._—At daylight my friends, after their morning prayer,
prepared an excellent breakfast in the same manner as in the evening.
They themselves certainly partook of it largely; indeed I never saw any
men eat near so much. I suppose such enormously capacious stomachs must
be the effect of a large part of their diet consisting of fruit and
vegetables which contain, in a given bulk, a comparatively small
portion of nutriment. Unwittingly, I was the means of my companions
breaking, as I afterwards learned, one of their own laws and
resolutions: I took with me a flask of spirits, which they could not
refuse to partake of; but as often as they drank a little, they put
their fingers before their mouths, and uttered the word “Missionary.”
About two years ago, although the use of the ava was prevented,
drunkenness from the introduction of spirits became very prevalent. The
missionaries prevailed on a few good men who saw that their country was
rapidly going to ruin, to join with them in a Temperance Society. From
good sense or shame, all the chiefs and the queen were at last
persuaded to join. Immediately a law was passed that no spirits should
be allowed to be introduced into the island, and that he who sold and
he who bought the forbidden article should be punished by a fine. With
remarkable justice, a
certain period was allowed for stock in hand to be sold, before the law
came into effect. But when it did, a general search was made, in which
even the houses of the missionaries were not exempted, and all the ava
(as the natives call all ardent spirits) was poured on the ground. When
one reflects on the effect of intemperance on the aborigines of the two
Americas, I think it will be acknowledged that every well-wisher of
Tahiti owes no common debt of gratitude to the missionaries. As long as
the little island of St. Helena remained under the government of the
East India Company, spirits, owing to the great injury they had
produced, were not allowed to be imported; but wine was supplied from
the Cape of Good Hope. It is rather a striking, and not very gratifying
fact, that in the same year that spirits were allowed to be sold in St.
Helena, their use was banished from Tahiti by the free will of the
people.
After breakfast we proceeded on our journey. As my object was merely to
see a little of the interior scenery, we returned by another track,
which descended into the main valley lower down. For some distance we
wound, by a most intricate path, along the side of the mountain which
formed the valley. In the less precipitous parts we passed through
extensive groves of the wild banana. The Tahitians, with their naked,
tattooed bodies, their heads ornamented with flowers, and seen in the
dark shade of these groves, would have formed a fine picture of man
inhabiting some primeval land. In our descent we followed the line of
ridges; these were exceedingly narrow, and for considerable lengths
steep as a ladder; but all clothed with vegetation. The extreme care
necessary in poising each step rendered the walk fatiguing. I did not
cease to wonder at these ravines and precipices: when viewing the
country from one of the knife-edged ridges, the point of support was so
small that the effect was nearly the same as it must be from a balloon.
In this descent we had occasion to use the ropes only once, at the
point where we entered the main valley. We slept under the same ledge
of rock where we had dined the day before: the night was fine, but from
the depth and narrowness of the gorge, profoundly dark.
Before actually seeing this country, I found it difficult to understand
two facts mentioned by Ellis; namely, that after
the murderous battles of former times, the survivors on the conquered
side retired into the mountains, where a handful of men could resist a
multitude. Certainly half a dozen men, at the spot where the Tahitian
reared the old tree, could easily have repulsed thousands. Secondly,
that after the introduction of Christianity, there were wild men who
lived in the mountains, and whose retreats were unknown to the more
civilised inhabitants.
_November_ 20_th._—In the morning we started early, and reached Matavai
at noon. On the road we met a large party of noble athletic men, going
for wild bananas. I found that the ship, on account of the difficulty
in watering, had moved to the harbour of Papawa, to which place I
immediately walked. This is a very pretty spot. The cove is surrounded
by reefs, and the water as smooth as in a lake. The cultivated ground,
with its beautiful productions, interspersed with cottages, comes close
down to the water’s edge.
From the varying accounts which I had read before reaching these
islands, I was very anxious to form, from my own observation, a
judgment of their moral state,—although such judgment would necessarily
be very imperfect. First impressions at all times very much depend on
one’s previously acquired ideas. My notions were drawn from Ellis’s
_Polynesian Researches_—an admirable and most interesting work, but
naturally looking at everything under a favourable point of view, from
Beechey’s _Voyage;_ and from that of Kotzebue, which is strongly
adverse to the whole missionary system. He who compares these three
accounts will, I think, form a tolerably accurate conception of the
present state of Tahiti. One of my impressions, which I took from the
two last authorities, was decidedly incorrect; namely, that the
Tahitians had become a gloomy race, and lived in fear of the
missionaries. Of the latter feeling I saw no trace, unless, indeed,
fear and respect be confounded under one name. Instead of discontent
being a common feeling, it would be difficult in Europe to pick out of
a crowd half so many merry and happy faces. The prohibition of the
flute and dancing is inveighed against as wrong and foolish;—the more
than presbyterian manner of keeping the Sabbath is looked at in a
similar light. On
these points I will not pretend to offer any opinion, in opposition to
men who have resided as many years as I was days on the island.
On the whole, it appears to me that the morality and religion of the
inhabitants are highly creditable. There are many who attack, even more
acrimoniously than Kotzebue, both the missionaries, their system, and
the effects produced by it. Such reasoners never compare the present
state with that of the island only twenty years ago; nor even with that
of Europe at this day; but they compare it with the high standard of
Gospel perfection. They expect the missionaries to effect that which
the Apostles themselves failed to do. Inasmuch as the condition of the
people falls short of this high standard, blame is attached to the
missionary, instead of credit for that which he has effected. They
forget, or will not remember, that human sacrifices, and the power of
an idolatrous priesthood—a system of profligacy unparalleled in any
other part of the world—infanticide a consequence of that system—bloody
wars, where the conquerors spared neither women nor children—that all
these have been abolished; and that dishonesty, intemperance, and
licentiousness have been greatly reduced by the introduction of
Christianity. In a voyager to forget these things is base ingratitude;
for should he chance to be at the point of shipwreck on some unknown
coast, he will most devoutly pray that the lesson of the missionary may
have extended thus far.
In point of morality, the virtue of the women, it has been often said,
is most open to exception. But before they are blamed too severely, it
will be well distinctly to call to mind the scenes described by Captain
Cook and Mr. Banks, in which the grandmothers and mothers of the
present race played a part. Those who are most severe, should consider
how much of the morality of the women in Europe is owing to the system
early impressed by mothers on their daughters, and how much in each
individual case to the precepts of religion. But it is useless to argue
against such reasoners;—I believe that, disappointed in not finding the
field of licentiousness quite so open as formerly, they will not give
credit to a morality which they do not wish to practise, or to a
religion which they undervalue, if not despise.
_Sunday_ 22_nd._—The harbour of Papiéte, where the queen resides, may
be considered as the capital of the island: it is also the seat of
government, and the chief resort of shipping. Captain Fitz Roy took a
party there this day to hear divine service, first in the Tahitian
language, and afterwards in our own. Mr. Pritchard, the leading
missionary in the island, performed the service. The chapel consisted
of a large airy framework of wood; and it was filled to excess by tidy,
clean people, of all ages and both sexes. I was rather disappointed in
the apparent degree of attention; but I believe my expectations were
raised too high. At all events the appearance was quite equal to that
in a country church in England. The singing of the hymns was decidedly
very pleasing, but the language from the pulpit, although fluently
delivered, did not sound well: a constant repetition of words, like
“_tata ta, mata mai,_” rendered it monotonous. After English service, a
party returned on foot to Matavai. It was a pleasant walk, sometimes
along the sea-beach and sometimes under the shade of the many beautiful
trees.
About two years ago, a small vessel under English colours was plundered
by some of the inhabitants of the Low Islands, which were then under
the dominion of the Queen of Tahiti. It was believed that the
perpetrators were instigated to this act by some indiscreet laws issued
by her majesty. The British government demanded compensation; which was
acceded to, and a sum of nearly three thousand dollars was agreed to be
paid on the first of last September. The Commodore at Lima ordered
Captain Fitz Roy to inquire concerning this debt, and to demand
satisfaction if it were not paid. Captain Fitz Roy accordingly
requested an interview with the Queen Pomarre, since famous from the
ill-treatment she has received from the French; and a parliament was
held to consider the question, at which all the principal chiefs of the
island and the queen were assembled. I will not attempt to describe
what took place, after the interesting account given by Captain Fitz
Roy. The money, it appeared, had not been paid; perhaps the alleged
reasons were rather equivocal; but otherwise I cannot sufficiently
express our general surprise at the extreme good sense, the reasoning
powers, moderation, candour, and prompt resolution, which were
displayed on all sides. I believe we all left the
meeting with a very different opinion of the Tahitians from what we
entertained when we entered. The chiefs and people resolved to
subscribe and complete the sum which was wanting; Captain Fitz Roy
urged that it was hard that their private property should be sacrificed
for the crimes of distant islanders. They replied that they were
grateful for his consideration, but that Pomarre was their Queen, and
that they were determined to help her in this her difficulty. This
resolution and its prompt execution, for a book was opened early the
next morning, made a perfect conclusion to this very remarkable scene
of loyalty and good feeling.
After the main discussion was ended, several of the chiefs took the
opportunity of asking Captain Fitz Roy many intelligent questions on
international customs and laws, relating to the treatment of ships and
foreigners. On some points, as soon as the decision was made, the law
was issued verbally on the spot. This Tahitian parliament lasted for
several hours; and when it was over Captain Fitz Roy invited Queen
Pomarre to pay the _Beagle_ a visit.
_November_ 25_th._—In the evening four boats were sent for her majesty;
the ship was dressed with flags, and the yards manned on her coming on
board. She was accompanied by most of the chiefs. The behaviour of all
was very proper: they begged for nothing, and seemed much pleased with
Captain Fitz Roy’s presents. The Queen is a large awkward woman,
without any beauty, grace or dignity. She has only one royal attribute:
a perfect immovability of expression under all circumstances, and that
rather a sullen one. The rockets were most admired, and a deep “Oh!”
could be heard from the shore, all round the dark bay, after each
explosion. The sailors’ songs were also much admired; and the queen
said she thought that one of the most boisterous ones certainly could
not be a hymn! The royal party did not return on shore till past
midnight.
26_th._—In the evening, with a gentle land-breeze, a course was steered
for New Zealand; and as the sun set, we had a farewell view of the
mountains of Tahiti—the island to which every voyager has offered up
his tribute of admiration.
_December_ 19_th._—In the evening we saw in the distance New Zealand.
We may now consider that we have nearly crossed the Pacific. It is
necessary to sail over this great ocean to comprehend its immensity.
Moving quickly onwards for weeks together, we meet with nothing but the
same blue, profoundly deep, ocean. Even within the archipelagoes, the
islands are mere specks, and far distant one from the other. Accustomed
to look at maps drawn on a small scale, where dots, shading, and names
are crowded together, we do not rightly judge how infinitely small the
proportion of dry land is to the water of this vast expanse. The
meridian of the Antipodes has likewise been passed; and now every
league, it made us happy to think, was one league nearer to England.
These Antipodes call to one’s mind old recollections of childish doubt
and wonder. Only the other day I looked forward to this airy barrier as
a definite point in our voyage homewards; but now I find it, and all
such resting-places for the imagination, are like shadows, which a man
moving onwards cannot catch. A gale of wind lasting for some days has
lately given us full leisure to measure the future stages in our
homeward voyage, and to wish most earnestly for its termination.
_December_ 21_st._—Early in the morning we entered the Bay of Islands,
and being becalmed for some hours near the mouth, we did not reach the
anchorage till the middle of the day. The country is hilly, with a
smooth outline, and is deeply intersected by numerous arms of the sea
extending from the bay. The surface appears from a distance as if
clothed with coarse pasture, but this in truth is nothing but fern. On
the more distant hills, as well as in parts of the valleys, there is a
good deal of woodland. The general tint of the landscape is not a
bright green; and it resembles the country a short distance to the
south of Concepcion in Chile. In several parts of the bay little
villages of square tidy-looking houses are scattered close down to the
water’s edge. Three whaling-ships were lying at anchor, and a canoe
every now and then crossed from shore to shore; with these exceptions,
an air of extreme quietness reigned over the whole district. Only a
single canoe came alongside. This, and the aspect of the whole scene,
afforded a remarkable, and not very pleasing contrast, with our joyful
and boisterous welcome at Tahiti.
In the afternoon we went on shore to one of the larger groups of
houses, which yet hardly deserves the title of a village. Its name is
Pahia: it is the residence of the missionaries; and there are no native
residents except servants and labourers. In the vicinity of the Bay of
Islands the number of Englishmen, including their families, amounts to
between two and three hundred. All the cottages, many of which are
whitewashed and look very neat, are the property of the English. The
hovels of the natives are so diminutive and paltry that they can
scarcely be perceived from a distance. At Pahia it was quite pleasing
to behold the English flowers in the gardens before the houses; there
were roses of several kinds, honeysuckle, jasmine, stocks, and whole
hedges of sweetbriar.
_December_ 22_nd._—In the morning I went out walking; but I soon found
that the country was very impracticable. All the hills are thickly
covered with tall fern, together with a low bush which grows like a
cypress; and very little ground has been cleared or cultivated. I then
tried the sea-beach; but proceeding towards either hand, my walk was
soon stopped by salt-water creeks and deep brooks. The communication
between the inhabitants of the different parts of the bay is (as in
Chiloe) almost entirely kept up by boats. I was surprised to find that
almost every hill which I ascended had been at some former time more or
less fortified. The summits were cut into steps or successive terraces,
and frequently they had been protected by deep trenches. I afterwards
observed that the principal hills inland in like manner showed an
artificial outline. These are the Pas, so frequently mentioned by
Captain Cook under the name of “hippah;” the difference of sound being
owing to the prefixed article.
That the Pas had formerly been much used was evident from the piles of
shells, and the pits in which, as I was informed, sweet potatoes used
to be kept as a reserve. As there was no water on these hills, the
defenders could never have anticipated a long siege, but only a hurried
attack for plunder, against which the successive terraces would have
afforded good protection. The general introduction of firearms has
changed the whole system of warfare; and an exposed situation on the
top of a hill is now worse than useless. The Pas in consequence are, at
the present day, always built on a level piece of ground. They consist
of a double stockade of thick and tall posts, placed in a zigzag line,
so that every part can be flanked. Within the stockade a mound of earth
is thrown up, behind which the defenders can rest in safety, or use
their firearms over it. On the level of the ground little archways
sometimes pass through this breastwork, by which means the defenders
can crawl out to the stockade and reconnoitre their enemies. The
Reverend W. Williams, who gave me this account, added that in one Pas
he had noticed spurs or buttresses projecting on the inner and
protected side of the mound of earth. On asking the chief the use of
them, he replied, that if two or three of his men were shot their
neighbours would not see the bodies, and so be discouraged.
These Pas are considered by the New Zealanders as very perfect means of
defence: for the attacking force is never so well disciplined as to
rush in a body to the stockade, cut it down, and effect their entry.
When a tribe goes to war, the chief cannot order one party to go here
and another there; but every man fights in the manner which best
pleases himself; and to each separate individual to approach a stockade
defended by firearms must appear certain death. I should think a more
warlike race of inhabitants could not be found in any part of the world
than the New Zealanders. Their conduct on first seeing a ship, as
described by Captain Cook, strongly illustrates this: the act of
throwing volleys of stones at so great and novel an object, and their
defiance of “Come on shore and we will kill and eat you all,” shows
uncommon boldness. This warlike spirit is evident in many of their
customs, and even in their smallest actions. If a New Zealander is
struck, although but in joke, the blow must be returned; and of this I
saw an instance with one of our officers.
At the present day, from the progress of civilisation, there is much
less warfare, except among some of the southern tribes. I heard a
characteristic anecdote of what took place some time ago in the south.
A missionary found a chief and his tribe in
preparation for war;—their muskets clean and bright, and their
ammunition ready. He reasoned long on the inutility of the war, and the
little provocation which had been given for it. The chief was much
shaken in his resolution, and seemed in doubt: but at length it
occurred to him that a barrel of his gunpowder was in a bad state, and
that it would not keep much longer. This was brought forward as an
unanswerable argument for the necessity of immediately declaring war:
the idea of allowing so much good gunpowder to spoil was not to be
thought of; and this settled the point. I was told by the missionaries
that in the life of Shongi, the chief who visited England, the love of
war was the one and lasting spring of every action. The tribe in which
he was a principal chief had at one time been much oppressed by another
tribe from the Thames River. A solemn oath was taken by the men that
when their boys should grow up, and they should be powerful enough,
they would never forget or forgive these injuries. To fulfil this oath
appears to have been Shongi’s chief motive for going to England; and
when there it was his sole object. Presents were valued only as they
could be converted into arms; of the arts, those alone interested him
which were connected with the manufacture of arms. When at Sydney,
Shongi, by a strange coincidence, met the hostile chief of the Thames
River at the house of Mr. Marsden: their conduct was civil to each
other; but Shongi told him that when again in New Zealand he would
never cease to carry war into his country. The challenge was accepted;
and Shongi on his return fulfilled the threat to the utmost letter. The
tribe on the Thames River was utterly overthrown, and the chief to whom
the challenge had been given was himself killed. Shongi, although
harbouring such deep feelings of hatred and revenge, is described as
having been a good-natured person.
In the evening I went with Captain Fitz Roy and Mr. Baker, one of the
missionaries, to pay a visit to Kororadika: we wandered about the
village, and saw and conversed with many of the people, both men,
women, and children. Looking at the New Zealander, one naturally
compares him with the Tahitian; both belonging to the same family of
mankind. The comparison, however, tells heavily against the New
Zealander. He may, perhaps be superior in energy, but in
every other respect his character is of a much lower order. One glance
at their respective expressions brings conviction to the mind that one
is a savage, the other a civilised man. It would be vain to seek in the
whole of New Zealand a person with the face and mien of the old
Tahitian chief Utamme. No doubt the extraordinary manner in which
tattooing is here practised gives a disagreeable expression to their
countenances. The complicated but symmetrical figures covering the
whole face puzzle and mislead an unaccustomed eye: it is moreover
probable that the deep incisions, by destroying the play of the
superficial muscles, give an air of rigid inflexibility. But, besides
this, there is a twinkling in the eye which cannot indicate anything
but cunning and ferocity. Their figures are tall and bulky; but not
comparable in elegance with those of the working-classes in Tahiti.
Both their persons and houses are filthily dirty and offensive: the
idea of washing either their bodies or their clothes never seems to
enter their heads. I saw a chief, who was wearing a shirt black and
matted with filth, and when asked how it came to be so dirty, he
replied, with surprise, “Do not you see it is an old one?” Some of the
men have shirts; but the common dress is one or two large blankets,
generally black with dirt, which are thrown over their shoulders in a
very inconvenient and awkward fashion. A few of the principal chiefs
have decent suits of English clothes; but these are only worn on great
occasions.
_December_ 23_rd._—At a place called Waimate, about fifteen miles from
the Bay of Islands, and midway between the eastern and western coasts,
the missionaries have purchased some land for agricultural purposes. I
had been introduced to the Reverend W. Williams, who, upon my
expressing a wish, invited me to pay him a visit there. Mr. Bushby, the
British resident, offered to take me in his boat by a creek, where I
should see a pretty waterfall, and by which means my walk would be
shortened. He likewise procured for me a guide. Upon asking a
neighbouring chief to recommend a man, the chief himself offered to go;
but his ignorance of the value of money was so complete, that at first
he asked how many pounds I would give him, but afterwards was well
contented
with two dollars. When I showed the chief a very small bundle which I
wanted carried, it became absolutely necessary for him to take a slave.
These feelings of pride are beginning to wear away; but formerly a
leading man would sooner have died than undergone the indignity of
carrying the smallest burden. My companion was a light active man,
dressed in a dirty blanket, and with his face completely tattooed. He
had formerly been a great warrior. He appeared to be on very cordial
terms with Mr. Bushby; but at various times they had quarrelled
violently. Mr. Bushby remarked that a little quiet irony would
frequently silence any one of these natives in their most blustering
moments. This chief has come and harangued Mr. Bushby in a hectoring
manner, saying, “A great chief, a great man, a friend of mine, has come
to pay me a visit—you must give him something good to eat, some fine
presents, etc.” Mr. Bushby has allowed him to finish his discourse, and
then has quietly replied by some answer such as, “What else shall your
slave do for you?” The man would then instantly, with a very comical
expression, cease his braggadocio.
Some time ago Mr. Bushby suffered a far more serious attack. A chief
and a party of men tried to break into his house in the middle of the
night, and not finding this so easy, commenced a brisk firing with
their muskets. Mr. Bushby was slightly wounded, but the party was at
length driven away. Shortly afterwards it was discovered who was the
aggressor; and a general meeting of the chiefs was convened to consider
the case. It was considered by the New Zealanders as very atrocious,
inasmuch as it was a night attack, and that Mrs. Bushby was lying ill
in the house: this latter circumstance, much to their honour, being
considered in all cases as a protection. The chiefs agreed to
confiscate the land of the aggressor to the King of England. The whole
proceeding, however, in thus trying and punishing a chief was entirely
without precedent. The aggressor, moreover, lost caste in the
estimation of his equals; and this was considered by the British as of
more consequence than the confiscation of his land.
As the boat was shoving off, a second chief stepped into her, who only
wanted the amusement of the passage up and down the creek. I never saw
a more horrid and ferocious
expression than this man had. It immediately struck me I had somewhere
seen his likeness: it will be found in Retzch’s outlines to Schiller’s
ballad of Fridolin, where two men are pushing Robert into the burning
iron furnace. It is the man who has his arm on Robert’s breast.
Physiognomy here spoke the truth; this chief had been a notorious
murderer, and was an arrant coward to boot. At the point where the boat
landed, Mr. Bushby accompanied me a few hundred yards on the road: I
could not help admiring the cool impudence of the hoary old villain,
whom we left lying in the boat, when he shouted to Mr. Bushby, “Do not
you stay long, I shall be tired of waiting here.”
We now commenced our walk. The road lay along a well-beaten path,
bordered on each side by the tall fern which covers the whole country.
After travelling some miles we came to a little country village, where
a few hovels were collected together, and some patches of ground
cultivated with potatoes. The introduction of the potato has been the
most essential benefit to the island; it is now much more used than any
native vegetable. New Zealand is favoured by one great natural
advantage; namely, that the inhabitants can never perish from famine.
The whole country abounds with fern: and the roots of this plant, if
not very palatable, yet contain much nutriment. A native can always
subsist on these, and on the shell-fish which are abundant on all parts
of the sea-coast. The villages are chiefly conspicuous by the platforms
which are raised on four posts ten or twelve feet above the ground, and
on which the produce of the fields is kept secure from all accidents.
On coming near one of the huts I was much amused by seeing in due form
the ceremony of rubbing, or, as it ought to be called, pressing noses.
The women, on our first approach, began uttering something in a most
dolorous voice; they then squatted themselves down and held up their
faces; my companion standing over them, one after another, placed the
bridge of his nose at right angles to theirs, and commenced pressing.
This lasted rather longer than a cordial shake of the hand with us, and
as we vary the force of the grasp of the hand in shaking, so do they in
pressing. During the process they uttered comfortable little grunts,
very much in the same manner as two pigs do, when rubbing against each
other. I noticed that the
slave would press noses with any one he met, indifferently either
before or after his master the chief. Although among these savages the
chief has absolute power of life and death over his slave, yet there is
an entire absence of ceremony between them. Mr. Burchell has remarked
the same thing in Southern Africa with the rude Bachapins. Where
civilisation has arrived at a certain point, complex formalities soon
arise between the different grades of society: thus at Tahiti all were
formerly obliged to uncover themselves as low as the waist in presence
of the king.
The ceremony of pressing noses having been duly completed with all
present, we seated ourselves in a circle in the front of one of
the hovels, and rested there half an hour. All the hovels have nearly
the same form and dimensions, and all agree in being filthily dirty.
They resemble a cow-shed with one end open, but having a partition a
little way within, with a square hole in it, making a small gloomy
chamber. In this the inhabitants keep all their property, and when the
weather is cold they sleep there. They eat, however, and pass their
time in the open part in front. My guides having finished their pipes,
we continued our walk. The path led through the same undulating
country, the whole uniformly clothed as before with fern. On our right
hand we had a serpentine river, the banks of which were fringed with
trees, and here and there on the hill-sides there was a clump of wood.
The whole scene, in spite of its green colour, had rather a desolate
aspect. The sight of so much fern impresses the mind with an idea of
sterility: this, however, is not correct; for wherever the fern grows
thick and breast-high, the land by tillage becomes productive. Some of
the residents think that all this extensive open country originally was
covered with forests, and that it has been cleared by fire. It is said,
that by digging in the barest spots, lumps of the kind of resin which
flows from the kauri pine are frequently found. The natives had an
evident motive in clearing the country; for the fern, formerly a staple
article of food, flourishes only in the open cleared tracks. The almost
entire absence of associated grasses, which forms so remarkable a
feature in the vegetation of this island, may perhaps be accounted for
by the land having been aboriginally covered with forest-trees.
The soil is volcanic; in several parts we passed over slaggy lavas, and
craters could clearly be distinguished on several of the neighbouring
hills. Although the scenery is nowhere beautiful, and only occasionally
pretty, I enjoyed my walk. I should have enjoyed it more, if my
companion, the chief, had not possessed extraordinary conversational
powers. I knew only three words: “good,” “bad,” and “yes:” and with
these I answered all his remarks, without of course having understood
one word he said. This, however, was quite sufficient: I was a good
listener, an agreeable person, and he never ceased talking to me.
At length we reached Waimate. After having passed over so many miles of
an uninhabited useless country, the sudden appearance of an English
farm-house, and its well-dressed fields, placed there as if by an
enchanter’s wand, was exceedingly pleasant. Mr. Williams not being at
home, I received in Mr. Davies’s house a cordial welcome. After
drinking tea with his family party, we took a stroll about the farm. At
Waimate there are three large houses, where the missionary gentlemen,
Messrs. Williams, Davies, and Clarke, reside; and near them are the
huts of the native labourers. On an adjoining slope fine crops of
barley and wheat were standing in full ear; and in another part fields
of potatoes and clover. But I cannot attempt to describe all I saw;
there were large gardens, with every fruit and vegetable which England
produces; and many belonging to a warmer clime. I may instance
asparagus, kidney beans, cucumbers, rhubarb, apples, pears, figs,
peaches, apricots, grapes, olives, gooseberries, currants, hops, gorse
for fences, and English oaks; also many kinds of flowers. Around the
farmyard there were stables, a thrashing-barn with its winnowing
machine, a blacksmith’s forge, and on the ground ploughshares and other
tools: in the middle was that happy mixture of pigs and poultry, lying
comfortably together, as in every English farmyard. At the distance of
a few hundred yards, where the water of a little rill had been dammed
up into a pool, there was a large and substantial water-mill.
All this is very surprising when it is considered that five years ago
nothing but the fern flourished here. Moreover, native workmanship,
taught by the missionaries, has effected
this change;—the lesson of the missionary is the enchanter’s wand. The
house had been built, the windows framed, the fields ploughed, and even
the trees grafted, by the New Zealander. At the mill a New Zealander
was seen powdered white with flower, like his brother miller in
England. When I looked at this whole scene I thought it admirable. It
was not merely that England was brought vividly before my mind; yet, as
the evening drew to a close, the domestic sounds, the fields of corn,
the distant undulating country with its trees, might well have been
mistaken for our fatherland: nor was it the triumphant feeling at
seeing what Englishmen could effect, but rather the high hopes thus
inspired for the future progress of this fine island.
Several young men, redeemed by the missionaries from slavery, were
employed on the farm. They were dressed in a shirt, jacket, and
trousers, and had a respectable appearance. Judging from one trifling
anecdote, I should think they must be honest. When walking in the
fields, a young labourer came up to Mr. Davies and gave him a knife and
gimlet, saying that he had found them on the road, and did not know to
whom they belonged! These young men and boys appeared very merry and
good-humoured. In the evening I saw a party of them at cricket: when I
thought of the austerity of which the missionaries have been accused, I
was amused by observing one of their own sons taking an active part in
the game. A more decided and pleasing change was manifested in the
young women, who acted as servants within the houses. Their clean,
tidy, and healthy appearance, like that of the dairy-maids in England,
formed a wonderful contrast with the women of the filthy hovels in
Kororadika. The wives of the missionaries tried to persuade them not to
be tattooed; but a famous operator having arrived from the south, they
said, “We really must just have a few lines on our lips; else when we
grow old, our lips will shrivel, and we shall be so very ugly.” There
is not nearly so much tattooing as formerly; but as it is a badge of
distinction between the chief and the slave, it will probably long be
practised. So soon does any train of ideas become habitual, that the
missionaries told me that even in their eyes a plain face looked mean,
and not like that of a New Zealand gentleman.
Late in the evening I went to Mr. Williams’s house, where I passed the
night. I found there a large party of children, collected together for
Christmas Day, and all sitting round a table at tea. I never saw a
nicer or more merry group; and to think that this was in the centre of
the land of cannibalism, murder, and all atrocious crimes! The
cordiality and happiness so plainly pictured in the faces of the little
circle appeared equally felt by the older persons of the mission.
_December_ 24_th._—In the morning prayers were read in the native
tongue to the whole family. After breakfast I rambled about the gardens
and farm. This was a market-day, when the natives of the surrounding
hamlets bring their potatoes, Indian corn, or pigs, to exchange for
blankets, tobacco, and sometimes, through the persuasions of the
missionaries, for soap. Mr. Davies’s eldest son, who manages a farm of
his own, is the man of business in the market. The children of the
missionaries, who came while young to the island, understand the
language better than their parents, and can get anything more readily
done by the natives.
A little before noon Messrs. Williams and Davies walked with me to part
of a neighbouring forest, to show me the famous kauri pine. I measured
one of these noble trees, and found it thirty-one feet in circumference
above the roots. There was another close by, which I did not see,
thirty-three feet; and I heard of one no less than forty feet. These
trees are remarkable for their smooth cylindrical boles, which run up
to a height of sixty, and even ninety feet, with a nearly equal
diameter, and without a single branch. The crown of branches at the
summit is out of all proportion small to the trunk; and the leaves are
likewise small compared with the branches. The forest was here almost
composed of the kauri; and the largest trees, from the parallelism of
their sides, stood up like gigantic columns of wood. The timber of the
kauri is the most valuable production of the island; moreover, a
quantity of resin oozes from the bark, which is sold at a penny a pound
to the Americans, but its use was then unknown. Some of the New Zealand
forests must be impenetrable to an extraordinary degree. Mr. Matthews
informed me that one forest only thirty-four miles in width, and
separating two inhabited
districts, had only lately, for the first time, been crossed. He and
another missionary, each with a party of about fifty men, undertook to
open a road, but it cost them more than a fortnight’s labour! In the
woods I saw very few birds. With regard to animals, it is a most
remarkable fact, that so large an island, extending over more than 700
miles in latitude, and in many parts ninety broad, with varied
stations, a fine climate, and land of all heights, from 14,000 feet
downwards, with the exception of a small rat, did not possess one
indigenous animal. The several species of that gigantic genus of birds,
the Deinornis, seem here to have replaced mammiferous quadrupeds, in
the same manner as the reptiles still do at the Galapagos Archipelago.
It is said that the common Norway rat, in the short space of two years,
annihilated in this northern end of the island the New Zealand species.
In many places I noticed several sorts of weeds, which, like the rats,
I was forced to own as countrymen. A leek has overrun whole districts,
and will prove very troublesome, but it was imported as a favour by a
French vessel. The common dock is also widely disseminated, and will, I
fear, for ever remain a proof of the rascality of an Englishman who
sold the seeds for those of the tobacco plant.
On returning from our pleasant walk to the house, I dined with Mr.
Williams; and then, a horse being lent me, I returned to the Bay of
Islands. I took leave of the missionaries with thankfulness for their
kind welcome, and with feelings of high respect for their
gentlemanlike, useful, and upright characters. I think it would be
difficult to find a body of men better adapted for the high office
which they fulfil.
_Christmas Day._—In a few more days the fourth year of our absence from
England will be completed. Our first Christmas Day was spent at
Plymouth, the second at St. Martin’s Cove near Cape Horn; the third at
Port Desire in Patagonia; the fourth at anchor in a wild harbour in the
peninsula of Tres Montes, this fifth here, and the next, I trust in
Providence, will be in England. We attended divine service in the
chapel of Pahia; part of the service being read in English, and part in
the native language. Whilst at New Zealand we did not hear of any
recent acts of cannibalism; but
Mr. Stokes found burnt human bones strewed round a fireplace on a small
island near the anchorage; but these remains of a comfortable banquet
might have been lying there for several years. It is probable that the
moral state of the people will rapidly improve. Mr. Bushby mentioned
one pleasing anecdote as a proof of the sincerity of some, at least, of
those who profess Christianity. One of his young men left him, who had
been accustomed to read prayers to the rest of the servants. Some weeks
afterwards, happening to pass late in the evening by an outhouse, he
saw and heard one of his men reading the Bible with difficulty by the
light of the fire, to the others. After this the party knelt and
prayed: in their prayers they mentioned Mr. Bushby and his family, and
the missionaries, each separately in his respective district.
_December_ 26_th._—Mr. Bushby offered to take Mr. Sulivan and myself in
his boat some miles up the river to Cawa-Cawa, and proposed afterwards
to walk on to the village of Waiomio, where there are some curious
rocks. Following one of the arms of the bay we enjoyed a pleasant row,
and passed through pretty scenery, until we came to a village, beyond
which the boat could not pass. From this place a chief and a party of
men volunteered to walk with us to Waiomio, a distance of four miles.
The chief was at this time rather notorious from having lately hung one
of his wives and a slave for adultery. When one of the missionaries
remonstrated with him he seemed surprised, and said he thought he was
exactly following the English method. Old Shongi, who happened to be in
England during the Queen’s trial, expressed great disapprobation at the
whole proceeding: he said he had five wives, and he would rather cut
off all their heads than be so much troubled about one. Leaving this
village, we crossed over to another, seated on a hill-side at a little
distance. The daughter of a chief, who was still a heathen, had died
there five days before. The hovel in which she had expired had been
burnt to the ground: her body, being enclosed between two small canoes,
was placed upright on the ground, and protected by an enclosure bearing
wooden images of their gods, and the whole was painted bright red, so
as to be conspicuous from afar. Her gown was fastened to the coffin,
and her hair being cut off was cast at
its foot. The relatives of the family had torn the flesh of their arms,
bodies, and faces, so that they were covered with clotted blood; and
the old women looked most filthy, disgusting objects. On the following
day some of the officers visited this place, and found the women still
howling and cutting themselves.
We continued our walk, and soon reached Waiomio. Here there are some
singular masses of limestone resembling ruined castles. These rocks
have long served for burial places, and in consequence are held too
sacred to be approached. One of the young men, however, cried out, “Let
us all be brave,” and ran on ahead; but when within a hundred yards,
the whole party thought better of it, and stopped short. With perfect
indifference, however, they allowed us to examine the whole place. At
this village we rested some hours, during which time there was a long
discussion with Mr. Bushby, concerning the right of sale of certain
lands. One old man, who appeared a perfect genealogist, illustrated the
successive possessors by bits of stick driven into the ground. Before
leaving the houses a little basketful of roasted sweet potatoes was
given to each of our party; and we all, according to the custom,
carried them away to eat on the road. I noticed that among the women
employed in cooking, there was a man-slave: it must be a humiliating
thing for a man in this warlike country to be employed in doing that
which is considered as the lowest woman’s work. Slaves are not allowed
to go to war; but this perhaps can hardly be considered as a hardship.
I heard of one poor wretch who, during hostilities, ran away to the
opposite party; being met by two men, he was immediately seized; but as
they could not agree to whom he should belong, each stood over him with
a stone hatchet, and seemed determined that the other at least should
not take him away alive. The poor man, almost dead with fright, was
only saved by the address of a chief’s wife. We afterwards enjoyed a
pleasant walk back to the boat, but did not reach the ship till late in
the evening.
_December_ 30_th._—In the afternoon we stood out of the Bay of Islands,
on our course to Sydney. I believe we were all glad to leave New
Zealand. It is not a pleasant place.
Amongst the natives there is absent that charming simplicity which is
found in Tahiti; and the greater part of the English are the very
refuse of society. Neither is the country itself attractive. I look
back but to one bright spot, and that is Waimate, with its Christian
inhabitants.
[Illustration: Hippah, New Zealand]
[Illustration: Sydney, 1835]
Chapter XIX
AUSTRALIA
Sydney—Excursion to Bathurst—Aspect of the woods—Party of
natives—Gradual extinction of the aborigines—Infection generated by
associated men in health—Blue Mountains—View of the grand gulf-like
valleys—Their origin and formation—Bathurst, general civility of the
lower orders—State of society—Van Diemen’s Land—Hobart Town—Aborigines
all banished—Mount Wellington—King George’s Sound—Cheerless aspect of
the country—Bald Head, calcareous casts of branches of trees—Party of
natives—Leave Australia.
_January_ 12_th_, 1836.—Early in the morning a light air carried us
towards the entrance of Port Jackson. Instead of beholding a verdant
country, interspersed with fine houses, a straight line of yellowish
cliff brought to our minds the coast of Patagonia. A solitary
lighthouse, built of white stone, alone told us that we were near a
great and populous city. Having entered the harbour, it appears fine
and spacious, with cliff-formed shores of horizontally stratified
sandstone. The nearly level country is covered with thin scrubby trees,
bespeaking the curse of sterility. Proceeding farther inland, the
country improves: beautiful villas and nice cottages are here and there
scattered
along the beach. In the distance stone houses, two and three stories
high, and windmills standing on the edge of a bank, pointed out to us
the neighbourhood of the capital of Australia.
At last we anchored within Sydney Cove. We found the little basin
occupied by many large ships, and surrounded by warehouses. In the
evening I walked through the town, and returned full of admiration at
the whole scene. It is a most magnificent testimony to the power of the
British nation. Here, in a less promising country, scores of years have
done many more times more than an equal number of centuries have
effected in South America. My first feeling was to congratulate myself
that I was born an Englishman. Upon seeing more of the town afterwards,
perhaps my admiration fell a little; but yet it is a fine town. The
streets are regular, broad, clean, and kept in excellent order; the
houses are of a good size, and the shops well furnished. It may be
faithfully compared to the large suburbs which stretch out from London
and a few other great towns in England; but not even near London or
Birmingham is there an appearance of such rapid growth. The number of
large houses and other buildings just finished was truly surprising;
nevertheless, every one complained of the high rents and difficulty in
procuring a house. Coming from South America, where in the towns every
man of property is known, no one thing surprised me more than not being
able to ascertain at once to whom this or that carriage belonged.
I hired a man and two horses to take me to Bathurst, a village about
one hundred and twenty miles in the interior, and the centre of a great
pastoral district. By this means I hoped to gain a general idea of the
appearance of the country. On the morning of the 16th (January) I set
out on my excursion. The first stage took us to Paramatta, a small
country town, next to Sydney in importance. The roads were excellent,
and made upon the MacAdam principle, whinstone having been brought for
the purpose from the distance of several miles. In all respects there
was a close resemblance to England: perhaps the alehouses here were
more numerous. The iron gangs, or parties of convicts who have
committed here some offence, appeared the least like England: they were
working in chains, under the charge of sentries with loaded
arms. The power which the government possesses, by means of forced
labour, of at once opening good roads throughout the country, has been,
I believe, one main cause of the early prosperity of this colony. I
slept at night at a very comfortable inn at Emu ferry, thirty-five
miles from Sydney, and near the ascent of the Blue Mountains. This line
of road is the most frequented, and has been the longest inhabited of
any in the colony. The whole land is enclosed with high railings, for
the farmers have not succeeded in rearing hedges. There are many
substantial houses and good cottages scattered about; but although
considerable pieces of land are under cultivation, the greater part yet
remains as when first discovered.
The extreme uniformity of the vegetation is the most remarkable feature
in the landscape of the greater part of New South Wales. Everywhere we
have an open woodland, the ground being partially covered with a very
thin pasture, with little appearance of verdure. The trees nearly all
belong to one family, and mostly have their leaves placed in a
vertical, instead of as in Europe, in a nearly horizontal position: the
foliage is scanty, and of a peculiar pale green tint, without any
gloss. Hence the woods appear light and shadowless: this, although a
loss of comfort to the traveller under the scorching rays of summer, is
of importance to the farmer, as it allows grass to grow where it
otherwise would not. The leaves are not shed periodically: this
character appears common to the entire southern hemisphere, namely,
South America, Australia, and the Cape of Good Hope. The inhabitants of
this hemisphere, and of the intertropical regions, thus lose perhaps
one of the most glorious, though to our eyes common, spectacles in the
world—the first bursting into full foliage of the leafless tree. They
may, however, say that we pay dearly for this by having the land
covered with mere naked skeletons for so many months. This is too true;
but our senses thus acquire a keen relish for the exquisite green of
the spring, which the eyes of those living within the tropics, sated
during the long year with the gorgeous productions of those glowing
climates, can never experience. The greater number of the trees, with
the exception of some of the Blue-gums, do not attain a large size; but
they grow tall and tolerably straight, and stand well apart. The bark
of some of the Eucalypti falls annually, or
hangs dead in long shreds which swing about with the wind, and give to
the woods a desolate and untidy appearance. I cannot imagine a more
complete contrast, in every respect, than between the forests of
Valdivia or Chiloe, and the woods of Australia.
At sunset, a party of a score of the black aborigines passed by, each
carrying, in their accustomed manner, a bundle of spears and other
weapons. By giving a leading young man a shilling, they were easily
detained, and threw their spears for my amusement. They were all partly
clothed, and several could speak a little English: their countenances
were good-humoured and pleasant, and they appeared far from being such
utterly degraded beings as they have usually been represented. In their
own arts they are admirable. A cap being fixed at thirty yards
distance, they transfixed it with a spear, delivered by the
throwing-stick with the rapidity of an arrow from the bow of a
practised archer. In tracking animals or men they show most wonderful
sagacity; and I heard of several of their remarks which manifested
considerable acuteness. They will not, however, cultivate the ground,
or build houses and remain stationary, or even take the trouble of
tending a flock of sheep when given to them. On the whole they appear
to me to stand some few degrees higher in the scale of civilisation
than the Fuegians.
It is very curious thus to see in the midst of a civilised people, a
set of harmless savages wandering about without knowing where they
shall sleep at night, and gaining their livelihood by hunting in the
woods. As the white man has travelled onwards, he has spread over the
country belonging to several tribes. These, although thus enclosed by
one common people, keep up their ancient distinctions, and sometimes go
to war with each other. In an engagement which took place lately, the
two parties most singularly chose the centre of the village of Bathurst
for the field of battle. This was of service to the defeated side, for
the runaway warriors took refuge in the barracks.
The number of aborigines is rapidly decreasing. In my whole ride, with
the exception of some boys brought up by Englishmen, I saw only one
other party. This decrease, no doubt, must be partly owing to the
introduction of spirits, to
European diseases (even the milder ones of which, such as the
measles,[1] prove very destructive), and to the gradual extinction of
the wild animals. It is said that numbers of their children invariably
perish in very early infancy from the effects of their wandering life;
and as the difficulty of procuring food increases, so must their
wandering habits increase; and hence the population, without any
apparent deaths from famine, is repressed in a manner extremely sudden
compared to what happens in civilised countries, where the father,
though in adding to his labour he may injure himself, does not destroy
his offspring.
[1] It is remarkable how the same disease is modified in different
climates. At the little island of St. Helena the introduction of
scarlet-fever is dreaded as a plague. In some countries foreigners and
natives are as differently affected by certain contagious disorders as
if they had been different animals; of which fact some instances have
occurred in Chile; and, according to Humboldt, in Mexico (_Polit.
Essay, New Spain,_ vol. iv.)
Besides these several evident causes of destruction, there appears to
be some more mysterious agency generally at work. Wherever the European
has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal. We may look to the wide
extent of the Americas, Polynesia, the Cape of Good Hope, and
Australia, and we find the same result. Nor is it the white man alone
that thus acts the destroyer; the Polynesian of Malay extraction has in
parts of the East Indian archipelago thus driven before him the
dark-coloured native. The varieties of man seem to act on each other in
the same way as different species of animals—the stronger always
extirpating the weaker. It was melancholy at New Zealand to hear the
fine energetic natives saying that they knew the land was doomed to
pass from their children. Every one has heard of the inexplicable
reduction of the population in the beautiful and healthy island of
Tahiti since the date of Captain Cook’s voyages: although in that case
we might have expected that it would have been increased; for
infanticide, which formerly prevailed to so extraordinary a degree, has
ceased, profligacy has greatly diminished, and the murderous wars
become less frequent.
The Reverend J. Williams, in his interesting work,[2] says that the
first intercourse between natives and Europeans “is invariably attended
with the introduction of fever, dysentery,
or some other disease which carries off numbers of the people.” Again
he affirms “It is certainly a fact, which cannot be controverted, that
most of the diseases which have raged in the islands during my
residence there have been introduced by ships;[3] and what renders this
fact remarkable is that there might be no appearance of disease among
the crew of the ship which conveyed this destructive importation.” This
statement is not quite so extraordinary as it at first appears; for
several cases are on record of the most malignant fevers having broken
out, although the parties themselves, who were the cause, were not
affected. In the early part of the reign of George III, a prisoner who
had been confined in a dungeon was taken in a coach with four
constables before a magistrate; and although the man himself was not
ill, the four constables died from a short putrid fever; but the
contagion extended to no others. From these facts it would almost
appear as if the effluvium of one set of men shut up for some time
together was poisonous when inhaled by others; and possibly more so, if
the men be of different races. Mysterious as this circumstance appears
to be, it is not more surprising than that the body of one’s
fellow-creature, directly after death, and before putrefaction has
commenced, should often be of so deleterious a quality that the mere
puncture from an instrument used in its dissection should prove fatal.
[2] _Narrative of Missionary Enterprise,_ p. 282.
[3] Captain Beechey (chap. iv, vol. i.) states that the inhabitants of
Pitcairn Island are firmly convinced that after the arrival of every
ship they suffer cutaneous and other disorders. Captain Beechey
attributes this to the change of diet during the time of the visit.
Dr. Macculloch (_Western Isles,_ vol. ii, p. 32) says, “It is
asserted, that on the arrival of a stranger (at St. Kilda) all the
inhabitants, in the common phraseology, catch a cold.” Dr. Macculloch
considers the whole case, although often previously affirmed, as
ludicrous. He adds, however, that “the question was put by us to the
inhabitants who unanimously agreed in the story.” In Vancouver’s
_Voyage_ there is a somewhat similar statement with respect to
Otaheite. Dr. Dieffenbach, in a note to his translation of this
Journal, states that the same fact is universally believed by the
inhabitants of the Chatham Islands and in parts of New Zealand. It is
impossible that such a belief should have become universal in the
northern hemisphere, at the Antipodes, and in the Pacific, without
some good foundation. Humboldt (_Polit. Essay on King. of New Spain,_
vol. iv.) says that the great epidemics at Panama and Callao are
“marked” by the arrival of ships from Chile, because the people from
that temperate region first experience the fatal effects of the torrid
zones. I may add that I have heard it stated in Shropshire that sheep
which have been imported from vessels, although themselves in a
healthy condition, if placed in the same fold with others, frequently
produce sickness in the flock.
17_th._—Early in the morning we passed the Nepean in a
ferry-boat. The river, although at this spot both broad and deep, had a
very small body of running water. Having crossed a low piece of land on
the opposite side, we reached the slope of the Blue Mountains. The
ascent is not steep, the road having been cut with much care on the
side of a sandstone cliff. On the summit an almost level plain extends,
which, rising imperceptibly to the westward, at last attains a height
of more than 3000 feet. From so grand a title as Blue Mountains, and
from their absolute altitude, I expected to have seen a bold chain of
mountains crossing the country; but instead of this, a sloping plain
presents merely an inconsiderable front to the low land near the coast.
From this first slope the view of the extensive woodland to the east
was striking, and the surrounding trees grew bold and lofty. But when
once on the sandstone platform, the scenery becomes exceedingly
monotonous; each side of the road is bordered by scrubby trees of the
never-failing Eucalyptus family; and with the exception of two or three
small inns, there are no houses or cultivated land; the road, moreover,
is solitary; the most frequent object being a bullock-waggon, piled up
with bales of wool.
In the middle of the day we baited our horses at a little inn, called
the Weatherboard. The country here is elevated 2800 feet above the sea.
About a mile and a half from this place there is a view exceedingly
well worth visiting. Following down a little valley and its tiny rill
of water, an immense gulf unexpectedly opens through the trees which
border the pathway, at the depth of perhaps 1500 feet. Walking on a few
yards, one stands on the brink of a vast precipice, and below one sees
a grand bay or gulf, for I know not what other name to give it, thickly
covered with forest. The point of view is situated as if at the head of
a bay, the line of cliff diverging on each side, and showing headland
behind headland, as on a bold sea-coast. These cliffs are composed of
horizontal strata of whitish sandstone; and are so absolutely vertical,
that in many places a person standing on the edge and throwing down a
stone, can see it strike the trees in the abyss below. So unbroken is
the line of cliff that in order to reach the foot of the waterfall
formed by this little stream, it is said to be necessary to go sixteen
miles round. About five miles distant in front another line of cliff
extends, which thus appears completely to encircle
the valley; and hence the name of bay is justified, as applied to this
grand amphitheatrical depression. If we imagine a winding harbour, with
its deep water surrounded by bold cliff-like shores, to be laid dry,
and a forest to spring up on its sandy bottom, we should then have the
appearance and structure here exhibited. This kind of view was to me
quite novel, and extremely magnificent.
In the evening we reached the Blackheath. The sandstone plateau has
here attained the height of 3400 feet; and is covered, as before, with
the same scrubby woods. From the road there were occasional glimpses
into a profound valley of the same character as the one described; but
from the steepness and depth of its sides, the bottom was scarcely ever
to be seen. The Blackheath is a very comfortable inn, kept by an old
soldier; and it reminded me of the small inns in North Wales.
18_th._—Very early in the morning I walked about three miles to see
Govett’s Leap: a view of a similar character with that near the
Weatherboard, but perhaps even more stupendous. So early in the day the
gulf was filled with a thin blue haze, which, although destroying the
general effect of the view, added to the apparent depth at which the
forest was stretched out beneath our feet. These valleys, which so long
presented an insuperable barrier to the attempts of the most
enterprising of the colonists to reach the interior, are most
remarkable. Great armlike bays, expanding at their upper ends, often
branch from the main valleys and penetrate the sandstone platform; on
the other hand, the platform often sends promontories into the valleys,
and even leaves in them great, almost insulated, masses. To descend
into some of these valleys, it is necessary to go round twenty miles;
and into others, the surveyors have only lately penetrated, and the
colonists have not yet been able to drive in their cattle. But the most
remarkable feature in their structure is, that although several miles
wide at their heads, they generally contract towards their mouths to
such a degree as to become impassable. The Surveyor-General, Sir T.
Mitchell,[4] endeavoured in vain, first walking and then by crawling
between the great fallen fragments of sandstone, to
ascend through the gorge by which the river Grose joins the Nepean; yet
the valley of the Grose in its upper part, as I saw, forms a
magnificent level basin some miles in width, and is on all sides
surrounded by cliffs, the summits of which are believed to be nowhere
less than 3000 feet above the level of the sea. When cattle are driven
into the valley of the Wolgan by a path (which I descended), partly
natural and partly made by the owner of the land, they cannot escape;
for this valley is in every other part surrounded by perpendicular
cliffs, and eight miles lower down it contracts from an average width
of half a mile, to a mere chasm, impassable to man or beast. Sir T.
Mitchell states that the great valley of the Cox river with all its
branches, contracts, where it unites with the Nepean, into a gorge 2200
yards in width, and about 1000 feet in depth. Other similar cases might
have been added.
[4] _Travels in Australia,_ vol. i, p. 154. I must express my
obligation to Sir T. Mitchell for several interesting personal
communications on the subject of these great valleys of New South
Wales.
The first impression on seeing the correspondence of the horizontal
strata on each side of these valleys and great amphitheatrical
depressions, is that they have been hollowed out, like other valleys,
by the action of water; but when one reflects on the enormous amount of
stone which on this view must have been removed through mere gorges or
chasms, one is led to ask whether these spaces may not have subsided.
But considering the form of the irregularly branching valleys, and of
the narrow promontories projecting into them from the platforms, we are
compelled to abandon this notion. To attribute these hollows to the
present alluvial action would be preposterous; nor does the drainage
from the summit-level always fall, as I remarked near the Weatherboard,
into the head of these valleys, but into one side of their baylike
recesses. Some of the inhabitants remarked to me that they never viewed
one of those baylike recesses, with the headlands receding on both
hands, without being struck with their resemblance to a bold sea-coast.
This is certainly the case; moreover, on the present coast of New South
Wales, the numerous fine, widely-branching harbours, which are
generally connected with the sea by a narrow mouth worn through the
sandstone coast-cliffs, varying from one mile in width to a quarter of
a mile, present a likeness, though on a miniature scale, to the great
valleys of the interior. But then immediately occurs the startling
difficulty, why has the sea worn out these
great though circumscribed depressions on a wide platform, and left
mere gorges at the openings, through which the whole vast amount of
triturated matter must have been carried away? The only light I can
throw upon this enigma is by remarking that banks of the most irregular
forms appear to be now forming in some seas, as in parts of the West
Indies and in the Red Sea, and that their sides are exceedingly steep.
Such banks, I have been led to suppose, have been formed by sediment
heaped by strong currents on an irregular bottom. That in some cases
the sea, instead of spreading out sediment in a uniform sheet, heaps it
round submarine rocks and islands, it is hardly possible to doubt,
after examining the charts of the West Indies; and that the waves have
power to form high and precipitous cliffs, even in land-locked
harbours, I have noticed in many parts of South America. To apply these
ideas to the sandstone platforms of New South Wales, I imagine that the
strata were heaped by the action of strong currents, and of the
undulations of an open sea, on an irregular bottom; and that the
valley-like spaces thus left unfilled had their steeply sloping flanks
worn into cliffs during a slow elevation of the land; the worn-down
sandstone being removed, either at the time when the narrow gorges were
cut by the retreating sea, or subsequently by alluvial action.
Soon after leaving the Blackheath we descended from the sandstone
platform by the pass of Mount Victoria. To effect this pass an enormous
quantity of stone has been cut through; the design and its manner of
execution being worthy of any line of road in England. We now entered
upon a country less elevated by nearly a thousand feet, and consisting
of granite. With the change of rock the vegetation improved; the trees
were both finer and stood farther apart; and the pasture between them
was a little greener and more plentiful. At Hassan’s Walls I left the
high-road, and made a short detour to a farm called Walerawang; to the
superintendent of which I had a letter of introduction from the owner
in Sydney. Mr. Browne had the kindness to ask me to stay the ensuing
day, which I had much pleasure in doing. This place offers an example
of one of the large farming, or rather sheep-grazing, establishments of
the colony. Cattle and horses are, however,
in this case rather more numerous than usual, owing to some of the
valleys being swampy and producing a coarser pasture. Two or three flat
pieces of ground near the house were cleared and cultivated with corn,
which the harvest-men were now reaping: but no more wheat is sown than
sufficient for the annual support of the labourers employed on the
establishment. The usual number of assigned convict-servants here is
about forty, but at the present time there were rather more. Although
the farm was well stocked with every necessary, there was an apparent
absence of comfort; and not one single woman resided here. The sunset
of a fine day will generally cast an air of happy contentment on any
scene; but here, at this retired farmhouse, the brightest tints on the
surrounding woods could not make me forget that forty hardened,
profligate men were ceasing from their daily labours, like the slaves
from Africa, yet without their holy claim for compassion.
Early on the next morning Mr. Archer, the joint superintendent, had the
kindness to take me out kangaroo-hunting. We continued riding the
greater part of the day, but had very bad sport, not seeing a kangaroo,
or even a wild dog. The greyhounds pursued a kangaroo rat into a hollow
tree, out of which we dragged it: it is an animal as large as a rabbit,
but with the figure of a kangaroo. A few years since this country
abounded with wild animals; but now the emu is banished to a long
distance, and the kangaroo is become scarce; to both the English
greyhound has been highly destructive. It may be long before these
animals are altogether exterminated, but their doom is fixed. The
aborigines are always anxious to borrow the dogs from the farmhouses:
the use of them, the offal when an animal is killed, and some milk from
the cows, are the peace-offerings of the settlers, who push farther and
farther towards the interior. The thoughtless aboriginal, blinded by
these trifling advantages, is delighted at the approach of the white
man, who seems predestined to inherit the country of his children.
Although having poor sport, we enjoyed a pleasant ride. The woodland is
generally so open that a person on horseback can gallop through it. It
is traversed by a few flat-bottomed valleys, which are green and free
from trees: in such spots the scenery was pretty like that of a park.
In the whole
country I scarcely saw a place without the marks of a fire; whether
these had been more or less recent—whether the stumps were more or less
black, was the greatest change which varied the uniformity so wearisome
to the traveller’s eye. In these woods there are not many birds; I saw,
however, some large flocks of the white cockatoo feeding in a
corn-field, and a few most beautiful parrots; crows like our jackdaws
were not uncommon, and another bird something like the magpie. In the
dusk of the evening I took a stroll along a chain of ponds, which in
this dry country represented the course of a river, and had the good
fortune to see several of the famous Ornithorhynchus paradoxus. They
were diving and playing about the surface of the water, but showed so
little of their bodies that they might easily have been mistaken for
water-rats. Mr. Browne shot one: certainly it is a most extraordinary
animal; a stuffed specimen does not at all give a good idea of the
appearance of the head and beak when fresh; the latter becoming hard
and contracted.[5]
[5] I was interested by finding here the hollow conical pitfall of the
lion-ant, or some other insect: first a fly fell down the treacherous
slope and immediately disappeared; then came a large but unwary ant;
its struggles to escape being very violent, those curious little jets
of sand, described by Kirby and Spence (_Entomol._ vol. i, p. 425) as
being flirted by the insect’s tail, were promptly directed against the
expected victim. But the ant enjoyed a better fate than the fly and
escaped the fatal jaws which lay concealed at the base of the conical
hollow. This Australian pitfall was only about half the size of that
made by the European lion-ant.
20_th._—A long day’s ride to Bathurst. Before joining the high road we
followed a mere path through the forest; and the country, with the
exception of a few squatters’ huts, was very solitary. We experienced
this day the sirocco-like wind of Australia, which comes from the
parched deserts of the interior. Clouds of dust were travelling in
every direction; and the wind felt as if it had passed over a fire. I
afterwards heard that the thermometer out of doors had stood at 119°,
and in a closed room at 96°. In the afternoon we came in view of the
downs of Bathurst. These undulating but nearly smooth plains are very
remarkable in this country, from being absolutely destitute of trees.
They support only a thin brown pasture. We rode some miles over this
country, and then reached the township of Bathurst, seated in the
middle of what may be called either a very broad valley, or narrow
plain. I was told at Sydney not to form too bad an opinion of Australia
by judging of the country from the roadside, nor too good a one from
Bathurst; in this latter respect I did not feel myself in the least
danger of being prejudiced. The season, it must be owned, had been one
of great drought, and the country did not wear a favourable aspect;
although I understand it was incomparably worse two or three months
before. The secret of the rapidly growing prosperity of Bathurst is
that the brown pasture which appears to the stranger’s eye so wretched
is excellent for sheep-grazing. The town stands at the height of 2200
feet above the sea, on the banks of the Macquarie: this is one of the
rivers flowing into the vast and scarcely known interior. The line of
watershed which divides the inland streams from those on the coast, has
a height of about 3000 feet, and runs in a north and south direction at
the distance of from eighty to a hundred miles from the seaside. The
Macquarie figures in the map as a respectable river, and it is the
largest of those draining this part of the watershed; yet to my
surprise I found it a mere chain of ponds, separated from each other by
spaces almost dry. Generally a small stream is running; and sometimes
there are high and impetuous floods. Scanty as the supply of the water
is throughout this district, it becomes still scantier further inland.
22_nd._—I commenced my return and followed a new road called Lockyer’s
Line along which the country is rather more hilly and picturesque. This
was a long day’s ride; and the house where I wished to sleep was some
way off the road, and not easily found. I met on this occasion, and
indeed on all others, a very general and ready civility among the lower
orders, which, when one considers what they are, and what they have
been, would scarcely have been expected. The farm where I passed the
night was owned by two young men who had only lately come out, and were
beginning a settler’s life. The total want of almost every comfort was
not very attractive; but future and certain prosperity was before their
eyes, and that not far distant.
The next day we passed through large tracts of country in flames,
volumes of smoke sweeping across the road. Before noon we joined our
former road and ascended Mount Victoria. I slept at the Weatherboard,
and before dark took another
walk to the amphitheatre. On the road to Sydney I spent a very pleasant
evening with Captain King at Dunheved; and thus ended my little
excursion in the colony of New South Wales.
Before arriving here the three things which interested me most were—the
state of society amongst the higher classes, the condition of the
convicts, and the degree of attraction sufficient to induce persons to
emigrate. Of course, after so very short a visit, one’s opinion is
worth scarcely anything; but it is as difficult not to form some
opinion, as it is to form a correct judgment. On the whole, from what I
heard, more than from what I saw, I was disappointed in the state of
society. The whole community is rancorously divided into parties on
almost every subject. Among those who, from their station in life,
ought to be the best, many live in such open profligacy that
respectable people cannot associate with them. There is much jealousy
between the children of the rich emancipist and the free settlers, the
former being pleased to consider honest men as interlopers. The whole
population, poor and rich, are bent on acquiring wealth: amongst the
higher orders, wool and sheep-grazing form the constant subject of
conversation. There are many serious drawbacks to the comforts of a
family, the chief of which, perhaps, is being surrounded by convict
servants. How thoroughly odious to every feeling, to be waited on by a
man who the day before, perhaps, was flogged, from your representation,
for some trifling misdemeanour. The female servants are of course much
worse: hence children learn the vilest expressions, and it is fortunate
if not equally vile ideas.
On the other hand, the capital of a person, without any trouble on his
part, produces him treble interest to what it will in England; and with
care he is sure to grow rich. The luxuries of life are in abundance,
and very little dearer than in England, and most articles of food are
cheaper. The climate is splendid, and perfectly healthy; but to my mind
its charms are lost by the uninviting aspect of the country. Settlers
possess a great advantage in finding their sons of service when very
young. At the age of from sixteen to twenty they frequently take charge
of distant farming stations. This, however, must happen at the expense
of their boys associating entirely with
convict servants. I am not aware that the tone of society has assumed
any peculiar character; but with such habits, and without intellectual
pursuits, it can hardly fail to deteriorate. My opinion is such that
nothing but rather sharp necessity should compel me to emigrate.
The rapid prosperity and future prospects of this colony are to me, not
understanding these subjects, very puzzling. The two main exports are
wool and whale-oil, and to both of these productions there is a limit.
The country is totally unfit for canals, therefore there is a not very
distant point beyond which the land-carriage of wool will not repay the
expense of shearing and tending sheep. Pasture everywhere is so thin
that settlers have already pushed far into the interior; moreover, the
country farther inland becomes extremely poor. Agriculture, on account
of the droughts, can never succeed on an extended scale: therefore, so
far as I can see, Australia must ultimately depend upon being the
centre of commerce for the southern hemisphere and perhaps on her
future manufactories. Possessing coal, she always has the moving power
at hand. From the habitable country extending along the coast, and from
her English extraction, she is sure to be a maritime nation. I formerly
imagined that Australia would rise to be as grand and powerful a
country as North America, but now it appears to me that such future
grandeur is rather problematical.
With respect to the state of the convicts, I had still fewer
opportunities of judging than on other points. The first question is,
whether their condition is at all one of punishment: no one will
maintain that it is a very severe one. This, however, I suppose, is of
little consequence as long as it continues to be an object of dread to
criminals at home. The corporeal wants of the convicts are tolerably
well supplied: their prospect of future liberty and comfort is not
distant, and, after good conduct, certain. A “ticket of leave,” which,
as long as a man keeps clear of suspicion as well as of crime, makes
him free within a certain district, is given upon good conduct, after
years proportional to the length of the sentence; yet with all this,
and overlooking the previous imprisonment and wretched passage out, I
believe the years of assignment are passed away with discontent and
unhappiness. As an intelligent man remarked to me, the convicts know no
pleasure
beyond sensuality, and in this they are not gratified. The enormous
bribe which Government possesses in offering free pardons, together
with the deep horror of the secluded penal settlements, destroys
confidence between the convicts, and so prevents crime. As to a sense
of shame, such a feeling does not appear to be known, and of this I
witnessed some very singular proofs. Though it is a curious fact, I was
universally told that the character of the convict population is one of
arrant cowardice; not unfrequently some become desperate, and quite
indifferent as to life, yet a plan requiring cool or continued courage
is seldom put into execution. The worst feature in the whole case is
that although there exists what may be called a legal reform, and
comparatively little is committed which the law can touch, yet that any
moral reform should take place appears to be quite out of the question.
I was assured by well-informed people that a man who should try to
improve, could not while living with other assigned servants;—his life
would be one of intolerable misery and persecution. Nor must the
contamination of the convict-ships and prisons, both here and in
England, be forgotten. On the whole, as a place of punishment, the
object is scarcely gained; as a real system of reform it has failed, as
perhaps would every other plan; but as a means of making men outwardly
honest,—of converting vagabonds, most useless in one hemisphere, into
active citizens of another, and thus giving birth to a new and splendid
country—a grand centre of civilisation—it has succeeded to a degree
perhaps unparalleled in history.
30_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed for Hobart Town in Van Diemen’s Land. On
the 5th of February, after a six days’ passage, of which the first part
was fine, and the latter very cold and squally, we entered the mouth of
Storm Bay; the weather justified this awful name. The bay should rather
be called an estuary, for it receives at its head the waters of the
Derwent. Near the mouth there are some extensive basaltic platforms;
but higher up the land becomes mountainous, and is covered by a light
wood. The lower parts of the hills which skirt the bay are cleared; and
the bright yellow fields of corn, and dark green ones of potatoes,
appear very luxuriant. Late in the evening we anchored in the snug cove
on the shores of which stands the capital of Tasmania. The first aspect
of the place was very inferior to that of Sydney; the latter might be
called a city, this is only a town. It stands at the base of Mount
Wellington, a mountain 3100 feet high, but of little picturesque
beauty; from this source, however, it receives a good supply of water.
Round the cove there are some fine warehouses and on one side a small
fort. Coming from the Spanish settlements, where such magnificent care
has generally been paid to the fortifications, the means of defence in
these colonies appeared very contemptible. Comparing the town with
Sydney, I was chiefly struck with the comparative fewness of the large
houses, either built or building. Hobart Town, from the census of 1835,
contained 13,826 inhabitants, and the whole of Tasmania 36,505.
Hobart Town and Mount Wellington
All the aborigines have been removed to an island in Bass’s Straits, so
that Van Diemen’s Land enjoys the great advantage of being free from a
native population. This most cruel step seems to have been quite
unavoidable, as the only means of stopping a fearful succession of
robberies, burnings, and murders, committed by the blacks; and which
sooner or later would have ended in their utter destruction. I fear
there is no doubt that this train of evil and its consequences
originated in the infamous conduct of some of our countrymen. Thirty
years
is a short period in which to have banished the last aboriginal from
his native island,—and that island nearly as large as Ireland. The
correspondence on this subject which took place between the government
at home and that of Van Diemen’s Land, is very interesting. Although
numbers of natives were shot and taken prisoners in the skirmishing,
which was going on at intervals for several years, nothing seems fully
to have impressed them with the idea of our overwhelming power, until
the whole island, in 1830, was put under martial law, and by
proclamation the whole population commanded to assist in one great
attempt to secure the entire race. The plan adopted was nearly similar
to that of the great hunting-matches in India: a line was formed
reaching across the island, with the intention of driving the natives
into a _ cul-de-sac_ on Tasman’s peninsula. The attempt failed; the
natives, having tied up their dogs, stole during one night through the
lines. This is far from surprising, when their practised senses and
usual manner of crawling after wild animals is considered. I have been
assured that they can conceal themselves on almost bare ground, in a
manner which until witnessed is scarcely credible; their dusky bodies
being easily mistaken for the blackened stumps which are scattered all
over the country. I was told of a trial between a party of Englishmen
and a native, who was to stand in full view on the side of a bare hill;
if the Englishmen closed their eyes for less than a minute, he would
squat down, and then they were never able to distinguish him from the
surrounding stumps. But to return to the hunting-match; the natives
understanding this kind of warfare, were terribly alarmed, for they at
once perceived the power and numbers of the whites. Shortly afterwards
a party of thirteen belonging to two tribes came in; and, conscious of
their unprotected condition, delivered themselves up in despair.
Subsequently by the intrepid exertions of Mr. Robinson, an active and
benevolent man, who fearlessly visited by himself the most hostile of
the natives, the whole were induced to act in a similar manner. They
were then removed to an island, where food and clothes were provided
them. Count Strzelecki states,[6] that “at the epoch of their
deportation in 1835, the number of natives amounted to 210. In 1842,
that is after
the interval of seven years, they mustered only fifty-four individuals;
and, while each family of the interior of New South Wales,
uncontaminated by contact with the whites, swarms with children, those
of Flinders’ Island had during eight years an accession of only
fourteen in number!”
[6] _Physical Description of New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land,_
p. 354.
The _Beagle_ stayed here ten days, and in this time I made several
pleasant little excursions, chiefly with the object of examining the
geological structure of the immediate neighbourhood. The main points of
interest consist, first in some highly fossiliferous strata belonging
to the Devonian or Carboniferous period; secondly, in proofs of a late
small rise of the land; and lastly, in a solitary and superficial patch
of yellowish limestone or travertin, which contains numerous
impressions of leaves of trees, together with land-shells, not now
existing. It is not improbable that this one small quarry includes the
only remaining record of the vegetation of Van Diemen’s Land during one
former epoch.
The climate here is damper than in New South Wales, and hence the land
is more fertile. Agriculture flourishes; the cultivated fields look
well, and the gardens abound with thriving vegetables and fruit-trees.
Some of the farmhouses, situated in retired spots, had a very
attractive appearance. The general aspect of the vegetation is similar
to that of Australia; perhaps it is a little more green and cheerful;
and the pasture between the trees rather more abundant. One day I took
a long walk on the side of the bay opposite to the town: I crossed in a
steamboat, two of which are constantly plying backwards and forwards.
The machinery of one of these vessels was entirely manufactured in this
colony, which, from its very foundation, then numbered only three and
thirty years! Another day I ascended Mount Wellington; I took with me a
guide, for I failed in a first attempt, from the thickness of the wood.
Our guide, however, was a stupid fellow, and conducted us to the
southern and damp side of the mountain, where the vegetation was very
luxuriant; and where the labour of the ascent, from the number of
rotten trunks, was almost as great as on a mountain in Tierra del Fuego
or in Chiloe. It cost us five and a half hours of hard climbing before
we reached the summit. In many parts the Eucalypti grew to a great size
and composed a noble forest. In some of the dampest ravines tree-ferns
flourished in an extraordinary manner; I saw one which must have been
at least twenty feet high to the base of the fronds, and was in girth
exactly six feet. The fronds, forming the most elegant parasols,
produced a gloomy shade, like that of the first hour of night. The
summit of the mountain is broad and flat and is composed of huge
angular masses of naked greenstone. Its elevation is 3100 feet above
the level of the sea. The day was splendidly clear, and we enjoyed a
most extensive view; to the north, the country appeared a mass of
wooded mountains, of about the same height with that on which we were
standing, and with an equally tame outline: to the south the broken
land and water, forming many intricate bays, was mapped with clearness
before us. After staying some hours on the summit we found a better way
to descend, but did not reach the _Beagle_ till eight o’clock, after a
severe day’s work.
_February_ 7_th._—The _Beagle_ sailed from Tasmania, and, on the 6th of
the ensuing month, reached King George’s Sound, situated close to the
south-west corner of Australia. We stayed there eight days; and we did
not during our voyage pass a more dull and uninteresting time. The
country, viewed from an eminence, appears a woody plain, with here and
there rounded and partly bare hills of granite protruding. One day I
went out with a party, in hopes of seeing a kangaroo-hunt, and walked
over a good many miles of country. Everywhere we found the soil sandy,
and very poor; it supported either a coarse vegetation of thin, low
brushwood and wiry grass, or a forest of stunted trees. The scenery
resembled that of the high sandstone platform of the Blue Mountains;
the Casuarina (a tree somewhat resembling a Scotch fir) is, however,
here in greater number, and the Eucalyptus in rather less. In the open
parts there were many grass-trees,—a plant which, in appearance, has
some affinity with the palm; but, instead of being surmounted by a
crown of noble fronds, it can boast merely of a tuft of very coarse
grass-like leaves. The general bright green colour of the brushwood and
other plants, viewed from a distance, seemed to promise fertility. A
single walk, however, was enough to dispel such an illusion; and he who
thinks with me will never wish to walk again in so uninviting a
country.
One day I accompanied Captain Fitz Roy to Bald Head, the place
mentioned by so many navigators, where some imagined that they saw
corals, and others that they saw petrified trees, standing in the
position in which they had grown. According to our view, the beds have
been formed by the wind having heaped up fine sand, composed of minute
rounded particles of shells and corals, during which process branches
and roots of trees, together with many land-shells, became enclosed.
The whole then became consolidated by the percolation of calcareous
matter; and the cylindrical cavities left by the decaying of the wood
were thus also filled up with a hard pseudo-stalactitical stone. The
weather is now wearing away the softer parts, and in consequence the
hard casts of the roots and branches of the trees project above the
surface, and, in a singularly deceptive manner, resemble the stumps of
a dead thicket.
A large tribe of natives, called the White Cockatoo men happened to pay
the settlement a visit while we were there. These men, as well as those
of the tribe belonging to King George’s Sound, being tempted by the
offer of some tubs of rice and sugar, were persuaded to hold a
“corrobery,” or great dancing-party. As soon as it grew dark, small
fires were lighted, and the men commenced their toilet, which consisted
in painting themselves white in spots and lines. As soon as all was
ready, large fires were kept blazing, round which the women and
children were collected as spectators; the Cockatoo and King George’s
men formed two distinct parties, and generally danced in answer to each
other. The dancing consisted in their running either sideways or in
Indian file into an open space, and stamping the ground with great
force as they marched together. Their heavy footsteps were accompanied
by a kind of grunt, by beating their clubs and spears together, and by
various other gesticulations, such as extending their arms and
wriggling their bodies. It was a most rude, barbarous scene, and, to
our ideas, without any sort of meaning; but we observed that the black
women and children watched it with the greatest pleasure. Perhaps these
dances originally represented actions, such as wars and victories;
there was one called the Emu dance, in which each man extended his arm
in a bent manner, like the neck of that bird. In another dance,
one man imitated the movements of a kangaroo grazing in the woods,
whilst a second crawled up and pretended to spear him. When both tribes
mingled in the dance, the ground trembled with the heaviness of their
steps, and the air resounded with their wild cries. Every one appeared
in high spirits, and the group of nearly naked figures, viewed by the
light of the blazing fires, all moving in hideous harmony, formed a
perfect display of a festival amongst the lowest barbarians. In Tierra
del Fuego we have beheld many curious scenes in savage life, but never,
I think, one where the natives were in such high spirits, and so
perfectly at their ease. After the dancing was over the whole party
formed a great circle on the ground, and the boiled rice and sugar was
distributed, to the delight of all.
After several tedious delays from clouded weather, on the 14th of March
we gladly stood out of King George’s Sound on our course to Keeling
Island. Farewell, Australia! you are a rising child, and doubtless some
day will reign a great princess in the South; but you are too great and
ambitious for affection, yet not great enough for respect. I leave your
shores without sorrow or regret.
[Illustration: Australian group of weapons and throwing sticks]
[Illustration: Inside an atoll, Keeling Island]
Chapter XX
KEELING ISLAND:—CORAL FORMATIONS
Keeling Island—Singular appearance—Scanty Flora—Transport of
seeds—Birds and insects—Ebbing and flowing springs—Fields of dead
coral—Stones transported in the roots of trees—Great crab—Stinging
corals—Coral-eating fish—Coral formations—Lagoon islands or
atolls—Depth at which reef-building corals can live—Vast areas
interspersed with low coral islands—Subsidence of their
foundations—Barrier reefs—Fringing reefs—Conversion of fringing-reefs
into barrier-reefs, and into atolls—Evidence of changes in
level—Breaches in barrier-reefs—Maldiva atolls; their peculiar
structure—Dead and submerged reefs—Areas of subsidence and
elevation—Distribution of volcanoes—Subsidence slow and vast in amount.
_April_ 1_st._—We arrived in view of the Keeling or Cocos Islands,
situated in the Indian Ocean, and about six hundred miles distant from
the coast of Sumatra. This is one of the lagoon-islands (or atolls) of
coral formation similar to those in the Low Archipelago which we passed
near. When the ship was in the channel at the entrance, Mr. Liesk, an
English resident, came off in his boat. The history of the inhabitants
of this place, in as few words as possible, is as follows. About nine
years ago, Mr. Hare, a worthless character, brought from the East
Indian archipelago a number of Malay slaves, which now, including
children, amount to more than a hundred. Shortly afterwards Captain
Ross, who had before visited these islands in his merchant-ship,
arrived from England, bringing with him his family and goods for
settlement: along with him came Mr. Liesk, who had been a mate in his
vessel. The Malay slaves soon ran away from the islet on which Mr. Hare
was settled, and joined Captain Ross’s party. Mr. Hare upon this was
ultimately obliged to leave the place.
The Malays are now nominally in a state of freedom, and certainly are
so as far as regards their personal treatment; but in most other points
they are considered as slaves. From their discontented state, from the
repeated removals from islet to islet, and perhaps also from a little
mismanagement, things are not very prosperous. The island has no
domestic quadruped excepting the pig, and the main vegetable production
is the cocoa-nut. The whole prosperity of the place depends on this
tree; the only exports being oil from the nut, and the nuts themselves,
which are taken to Singapore and Mauritius, where they are chiefly
used, when grated, in making curries. On the cocoa-nut, also, the pigs,
which are loaded with fat, almost entirely subsist, as do the ducks and
poultry. Even a huge land-crab is furnished by nature with the means to
open and feed on this most useful production.
The ring-formed reef of the lagoon-island is surmounted in the greater
part of its length by linear islets. On the northern or leeward side
there is an opening through which vessels can pass to the anchorage
within. On entering, the scene was very curious and rather pretty; its
beauty, however, entirely depended on the brilliancy of the surrounding
colours. The shallow, clear, and still water of the lagoon, resting in
its greater part on white sand, is, when illumined by a vertical sun,
of the most vivid green. This brilliant expanse, several miles in
width, is on all sides divided, either by a line of snow-white breakers
from the dark heaving waters of the ocean, or from the blue vault of
heaven by the strips of land, crowned by the level tops of the
cocoa-nut trees. As a white cloud here and there affords a pleasing
contrast with the azure sky, so in the lagoon bands of living coral
darken the emerald green water.
The next morning after anchoring I went on shore on Direction Island.
The strip of dry land is only a few hundred yards in width; on the
lagoon side there is a white calcareous beach, the radiation from which
under this sultry climate was very oppressive; and on the outer coast a
solid broad flat of coral-rock served to break the violence of the open
sea. Excepting near the lagoon, where there is some sand, the land is
entirely composed of rounded fragments of coral. In such a loose, dry,
stony soil, the climate of the intertropical regions alone could
produce a vigorous vegetation. On some of the smaller islets nothing
could be more elegant than the manner in which the young and full-grown
cocoa-nut trees, without destroying each other’s symmetry, were mingled
into one wood. A beach of glittering white sand formed a border to
these fairy spots.
I will now give a sketch of the natural history of these islands,
which, from its very paucity, possesses a peculiar interest. The
cocoa-nut tree, at first glance, seems to compose the whole wood; there
are however, five or six other trees. One of these grows to a very
large size, but, from the extreme softness of its wood, is useless;
another sort affords excellent timber for ship-building. Besides the
trees the number of plants is exceedingly limited and consists of
insignificant weeds. In my collection, which includes, I believe,
nearly the perfect Flora, there are twenty species without reckoning a
moss, lichen, and fungus. To this number two trees must be added; one
of which was not in flower, and the other I only heard of. The latter
is a solitary tree of its kind, and grows near the beach, where,
without doubt, the one seed was thrown up by the waves. A Guilandina
also grows on only one of the islets. I do not include in the above
list the sugar-cane, banana, some other vegetables, fruit-trees, and
imported grasses. As the islands consist entirely of coral, and at one
time must have existed as mere water-washed reefs, all their
terrestrial productions must have been transported here by the waves of
the sea. In accordance with this, the Florula has quite the character
of a refuge for the destitute: Professor Henslow informs me that of the
twenty species nineteen belong to different genera, and these again to
no less than sixteen families![1]
[1] These plants are described in the _Annals of Nat. Hist._ vol. i.
1838, p. 337.
In Holman’s[2] _Travels_ an account is given, on the authority of Mr.
A. S. Keating, who resided twelve months on these islands, of the
various seeds and other bodies which have been known to have been
washed on shore. “Seeds and plants from Sumatra and Java have been
driven up by the surf on the windward side of the islands. Among them
have been found the Kimiri, native of Sumatra and the peninsula of
Malacca; the cocoa-nut of Balci, known by its shape and size; the
Dadass, which is planted by the Malays with the pepper-vine, the latter
entwining round its trunk, and supporting itself by the prickles on its
stem; the soap-tree; the castor-oil plant; trunks of the sago palm; and
various kinds of seeds unknown to the Malays settled on the islands.
These are all supposed to have been driven by the N.W. monsoon to the
coast of New Holland, and thence to these islands by the S.E.
trade-wind. Large masses of Java teak and Yellow wood have also been
found, besides immense trees of red and white cedar, and the blue
gum-wood of New Holland, in a perfectly sound condition. All the hardy
seeds, such as creepers, retain their germinating power, but the softer
kinds, among which is the mangostin, are destroyed in the passage.
Fishing-canoes, apparently from Java, have at times been washed on
shore.” It is interesting thus to discover how numerous the seeds are,
which, coming from several countries, are drifted over the wide ocean.
Professor Henslow tells me he believes that nearly all the plants which
I brought from these islands are common littoral species in the East
Indian archipelago. From the direction, however, of the winds and
currents, it seems scarcely possible that they could have come here in
a direct line. If, as suggested with much probability by Mr. Keating,
they were first carried towards the coast of New Holland, and thence
drifted back together with the productions of that country, the seeds,
before germinating, must have travelled between 1800 and 2400 miles.
[2] Holman’s _Travels_, vol. iv, p. 378.
Chamisso,[3] when describing the Radack Archipelago, situated in the
western part of the Pacific, states that “the sea brings to these
islands the seeds and fruits of many trees, most of which have yet not
grown here. The greater part of these seeds
appear to have not yet lost the capability of growing.” It is also said
that palms and bamboos from somewhere in the torrid zone, and trunks of
northern firs, are washed on shore; these firs must have come from an
immense distance. These facts are highly interesting. It cannot be
doubted that, if there were land-birds to pick up the seeds when first
cast on shore, and a soil better adapted for their growth than the
loose blocks of coral, the most isolated of the lagoon islands would in
time possess a far more abundant Flora than they now have.
[3] Kotzebue’s _First Voyage_, vol. iii, p. 155.
The list of land animals is even poorer than that of the plants. Some
of the islets are inhabited by rats, which were brought in a ship from
the Mauritius, wrecked here. These rats are considered by Mr.
Waterhouse as identical with the English kind, but they are smaller,
and more brightly coloured. There are no true land-birds, for a snipe
and a rail (Rallus Phillippensis), though living entirely in the dry
herbage, belong to the order of Waders. Birds of this order are said to
occur on several of the small low islands in the Pacific. At Ascension,
where there is no land-bird, a rail (Porphyrio simplex) was shot near
the summit of the mountain, and it was evidently a solitary straggler.
At Tristan d’Acunha, where, according to Carmichael, there are only two
land-birds, there is a coot. From these facts I believe that the
waders, after the innumerable web-footed species, are generally the
first colonists of small isolated islands. I may add that whenever I
noticed birds, not of oceanic species, very far out at sea, they always
belonged to this order; and hence they would naturally become the
earliest colonists of any remote point of land.
Of reptiles I saw only one small lizard. Of insects I took pains to
collect every kind. Exclusive of spiders, which were numerous, there
were thirteen species.[4] Of these one only was a beetle. A small ant
swarmed by thousands under the loose dry blocks of coral, and was the
only true insect which was abundant. Although the productions of the
land are thus scanty, if we look to the waters of the surrounding sea
the number of organic beings is indeed infinite. Chamisso has
described[5] the natural history of a lagoon-island in the Radack
Archipelago; and it is remarkable how closely its inhabitants, in
number and kind, resemble those of Keeling Island. There is one lizard
and two waders, namely, a snipe and curlew. Of plants there are
nineteen species, including a fern; and some of these are the same with
those growing here, though on a spot so immensely remote, and in a
different ocean.
[4] The thirteen species belong to the following orders:—In the
_Coleoptera_, a minute Elater; _ Orthoptera_, a Gryllus and a Blatta;
_Hemiptera_, one species; _Homoptera_, two; _Neuroptera_, a Chrysopa;
_ Hymenoptera_, two ants; _Lepidoptera nocturna_, a Diopæa, and a
Pterophorus (?); _Diptera_, two species.
[5] Kotzebue’s _First Voyage_, vol. iii, p. 222.
The long strips of land, forming the linear islets, have been raised
only to that height to which the surf can throw fragments of coral, and
the wind heap up calcareous sand. The solid flat of coral rock on the
outside, by its breadth, breaks the first violence of the waves, which
otherwise, in a day, would sweep away these islets and all their
productions. The ocean and the land seem here struggling for mastery:
although terra firma has obtained a footing, the denizens of the water
think their claim at least equally good. In every part one meets hermit
crabs of more than one species,[6] carrying on their backs the shells
which they have stolen from the neighbouring beach. Overhead numerous
gannets, frigate-birds, and terns, rest on the trees; and the wood,
from the many nests and from the smell of the atmosphere, might be
called a sea-rookery. The gannets, sitting on their rude nests, gaze at
one with a stupid yet angry air. The noddies, as their name expresses,
are silly little creatures. But there is one charming bird: it is a
small, snow-white tern, which smoothly hovers at the distance of a few
feet above one’s head, its large black eye scanning, with quiet
curiosity, your expression. Little imagination is required to fancy
that so light and delicate a body must be tenanted by some wandering
fairy spirit.
[6] The large claws or pincers of some of these crabs are most
beautifully adapted, when drawn back, to form an operculum to the
shell, nearly as perfect as the proper one originally belonging to the
molluscous animal. I was assured, and as far as my observations went I
found it so, that certain species of the hermit-crab always use
certain species of shells.
_Sunday, April_ 3_rd._—After service I accompanied Captain Fitz Roy to
the settlement, situated at the distance of some miles, on the point of
an islet thickly covered with tall cocoa-nut trees. Captain Ross and
Mr. Liesk live in a large barn-like house open at both ends, and lined
with mats made of woven bark. The houses of the Malays are arranged
along
the shore of the lagoon. The whole place had rather a desolate aspect,
for there were no gardens to show the signs of care and cultivation.
The natives belong to different islands in the East Indian archipelago,
but all speak the same language: we saw the inhabitants of Borneo,
Celebes, Java, and Sumatra. In colour they resemble the Tahitians, from
whom they do not widely differ in features. Some of the women, however,
show a good deal of the Chinese character. I liked both their general
expressions and the sound of their voices. They appeared poor, and
their houses were destitute of furniture; but it was evident from the
plumpness of the little children, that cocoa-nuts and turtle afford no
bad sustenance.
On this island the wells are situated from which ships obtain water. At
first sight it appears not a little remarkable that the fresh water
should regularly ebb and flow with the tides; and it has even been
imagined that sand has the power of filtering the salt from the
sea-water. These ebbing wells are common on some of the low islands in
the West Indies. The compressed sand, or porous coral rock, is
permeated like a sponge with the salt water, but the rain which falls
on the surface must sink to the level of the surrounding sea, and must
accumulate there, displacing an equal bulk of the salt water. As the
water in the lower part of the great sponge-like coral mass rises and
falls with the tides, so will the water near the surface; and this will
keep fresh, if the mass be sufficiently compact to prevent much
mechanical admixture; but where the land consists of great loose blocks
of coral with open interstices, if a well be dug, the water, as I have
seen, is brackish.
After dinner we stayed to see a curious half superstitious scene acted
by the Malay women. A large wooden spoon dressed in garments, and which
had been carried to the grave of a dead man, they pretend becomes
inspired at the full of the moon, and will dance and jump about. After
the proper preparations, the spoon, held by two women, became
convulsed, and danced in good time to the song of the surrounding
children and women. It was a most foolish spectacle; but Mr. Liesk
maintained that many of the Malays believed in its spiritual movements.
The dance did not commence till the
moon had risen, and it was well worth remaining to behold her bright
orb so quietly shining through the long arms of the cocoa-nut trees as
they waved in the evening breeze. These scenes of the tropics are in
themselves so delicious that they almost equal those dearer ones at
home, to which we are bound by each best feeling of the mind.
The next day I employed myself in examining the very interesting, yet
simple structure and origin of these islands. The water being unusually
smooth, I waded over the outer flat of dead rock as far as the living
mounds of coral, on which the swell of the open sea breaks. In some of
the gullies and hollows there were beautiful green and other coloured
fishes, and the form and tints of many of the zoophytes were admirable.
It is excusable to grow enthusiastic over the infinite numbers of
organic beings with which the sea of the tropics, so prodigal of life,
teems; yet I must confess I think those naturalists who have described,
in well-known words, the submarine grottoes decked with a thousand
beauties, have indulged in rather exuberant language.
_April_ 6_th._—I accompanied Captain Fitz Roy to an island at the head
of the lagoon: the channel was exceedingly intricate, winding through
fields of delicately branched corals. We saw several turtle and two
boats were then employed in catching them. The water was so clear and
shallow, that although at first a turtle quickly dives out of sight,
yet in a canoe or boat under sail the pursuers after no very long chase
come up to it. A man standing ready in the bow at this moment dashes
through the water upon the turtle’s back; then clinging with both hands
by the shell of its neck, he is carried away till the animal becomes
exhausted and is secured. It was quite an interesting chase to see the
two boats thus doubling about, and the men dashing head foremost into
the water trying to seize their prey. Captain Moresby informs me that
in the Chagos archipelago in this same ocean, the natives, by a
horrible process, take the shell from the back of the living turtle.
“It is covered with burning charcoal, which causes the outer shell to
curl upwards, it is then forced off with a knife, and before it becomes
cold flattened between boards. After this barbarous process the animal
is suffered to regain its native
element, where, after a certain time, a new shell is formed; it is,
however, too thin to be of any service, and the animal always appears
languishing and sickly.”
When we arrived at the head of the lagoon we crossed a narrow islet and
found a great surf breaking on the windward coast. I can hardly explain
the reason, but there is to my mind much grandeur in the view of the
outer shores of these lagoon-islands. There is a simplicity in the
barrier-like beach, the margin of green bushes and tall cocoa-nuts, the
solid flat of dead coral-rock, strewed here and there with great loose
fragments, and the line of furious breakers, all rounding away towards
either hand. The ocean throwing its waters over the broad reef appears
an invincible, all-powerful enemy; yet we see it resisted, and even
conquered, by means which at first seem most weak and inefficient. It
is not that the ocean spares the rock of coral; the great fragments
scattered over the reef, and heaped on the beach, whence the tall
cocoa-nut springs, plainly bespeak the unrelenting power of the waves.
Nor are any periods of repose granted. The long swell caused by the
gentle but steady action of the trade-wind, always blowing in one
direction over a wide area, causes breakers, almost equalling in force
those during a gale of wind in the temperate regions, and which never
cease to rage. It is impossible to behold these waves without feeling a
conviction that an island, though built of the hardest rock, let it be
porphyry, granite, or quartz, would ultimately yield and be demolished
by such an irresistible power. Yet these low, insignificant
coral-islets stand and are victorious: for here another power, as an
antagonist, takes part in the contest. The organic forces separate the
atoms of carbonate of lime, one by one, from the foaming breakers, and
unite them into a symmetrical structure. Let the hurricane tear up its
thousand huge fragments; yet what will that tell against the
accumulated labour of myriads of architects at work night and day,
month after month? Thus do we see the soft and gelatinous body of a
polypus, through the agency of the vital laws, conquering the great
mechanical power of the waves of an ocean which neither the art of man
nor the inanimate works of nature could successfully resist.
We did not return on board till late in the evening, for we
stayed a long time in the lagoon, examining the fields of coral and the
gigantic shells of the chama, into which, if a man were to put his
hand, he would not, as long as the animal lived, be able to withdraw
it. Near the head of the lagoon I was much surprised to find a wide
area, considerably more than a mile square, covered with a forest of
delicately branching corals, which, though standing upright, were all
dead and rotten. At first I was quite at a loss to understand the
cause; afterwards it occurred to me that it was owing to the following
rather curious combination of circumstances. It should, however, first
be stated, that corals are not able to survive even a short exposure in
the air to the sun’s rays, so that their upward limit of growth is
determined by that of lowest water at spring tides. It appears, from
some old charts, that the long island to windward was formerly
separated by wide channels into several islets; this fact is likewise
indicated by the trees being younger on these portions. Under the
former condition of the reef, a strong breeze, by throwing more water
over the barrier, would tend to raise the level of the lagoon. Now it
acts in a directly contrary manner; for the water within the lagoon not
only is not increased by currents from the outside, but is itself blown
outwards by the force of the wind. Hence it is observed that the tide
near the head of the lagoon does not rise so high during a strong
breeze as it does when it is calm. This difference of level, although
no doubt very small, has, I believe, caused the death of those
coral-groves, which under the former and more open condition of the
outer reef had attained the utmost possible limit of upward growth.
A few miles north of Keeling there is another small atoll, the lagoon
of which is nearly filled up with coral-mud. Captain Ross found
embedded in the conglomerate on the outer coast a well-rounded fragment
of greenstone, rather larger than a man’s head: he and the men with him
were so much surprised at this, that they brought it away and preserved
it as a curiosity. The occurrence of this one stone, where every other
particle of matter is calcareous, certainly is very puzzling. The
island has scarcely ever been visited, nor is it probable that a ship
had been wrecked there. From the absence of any better explanation, I
came to the conclusion that it must have come entangled in the roots of
some large tree: when,
however, I considered the great distance from the nearest land, the
combination of chances against a stone thus being entangled, the tree
washed into the sea, floated so far, then landed safely, and the stone
finally so embedded as to allow of its discovery, I was almost afraid
of imagining a means of transport apparently so improbable. It was
therefore with great interest that I found Chamisso, the justly
distinguished naturalist who accompanied Kotzebue, stating that the
inhabitants of the Radack Archipelago, a group of lagoon islands in the
midst of the Pacific, obtained stones for sharpening their instruments
by searching the roots of trees which are cast upon the beach. It will
be evident that this must have happened several times, since laws have
been established that such stones belong to the chief, and a punishment
is inflicted on any one who attempts to steal them. When the isolated
position of these small islands in the midst of a vast ocean—their
great distance from any land excepting that of coral formation,
attested by the value which the inhabitants, who are such bold
navigators, attach to a stone of any kind,[7]—and the slowness of the
currents of the open sea, are all considered, the occurrence of pebbles
thus transported does appear wonderful. Stones may often be thus
carried; and if the island on which they are stranded is constructed of
any other substance besides coral, they would scarcely attract
attention, and their origin at least would never be guessed. Moreover,
this agency may long escape discovery from the probability of trees,
especially those loaded with stones, floating beneath the surface. In
the channels of Tierra del Fuego large quantities of drift timber are
cast upon the beach, yet it is extremely rare to meet a tree swimming
on the water. These facts may possibly throw light on single stones,
whether angular or rounded, occasionally found embedded in fine
sedimentary masses.
[7] Some natives carried by Kotzebue to Kamtschatka collected stones
to take back to their country.
During another day I visited West Islet, on which the vegetation was
perhaps more luxuriant than on any other. The cocoa-nut trees generally
grow separate, but here the young ones flourished beneath their tall
parents, and formed with their long and curved fronds the most shady
arbours. Those alone who have tried it know how delicious it is to be
seated in such shade, and drink the cool pleasant fluid of the
cocoa-nut. In this island there is a large bay-like space, composed of
the finest white sand: it is quite level and is only covered by the
tide at high water; from this large bay smaller creeks penetrate the
surrounding woods. To see a field of glittering white sand representing
water, with the cocoa-nut trees extending their tall and waving trunks
round the margin, formed a singular and very pretty view.
I have before alluded to a crab which lives on the cocoa-nuts; it is
very common on all parts of the dry land, and grows to a monstrous
size: it is closely allied or identical with the Birgos latro. The
front pair of legs terminate in very strong and heavy pincers, and the
last pair are fitted with others weaker and much narrower. It would at
first be thought quite impossible for a crab to open a strong cocoa-nut
covered with the husk; but Mr. Liesk assures me that he has repeatedly
seen this effected. The crab begins by tearing the husk, fibre by
fibre, and always from that end under which the three eye-holes are
situated; when this is completed, the crab commences hammering with its
heavy claws on one of the eye-holes till an opening is made. Then
turning round its body, by the aid of its posterior and narrow pair of
pincers it extracts the white albuminous substance. I think this is as
curious a case of instinct as ever I heard of, and likewise of
adaptation in structure between two objects apparently so remote from
each other in the scheme of nature as a crab and a cocoa-nut tree. The
Birgos is diurnal in its habits; but every night it is said to pay a
visit to the sea, no doubt for the purpose of moistening its branchiæ.
The young are likewise hatched, and live for some time, on the coast.
These crabs inhabit deep burrows, which they hollow out beneath the
roots of trees; and where they accumulate surprising quantities of the
picked fibres of the cocoa-nut husk, on which they rest as on a bed.
The Malays sometimes take advantage of this, and collect the fibrous
mass to use as junk. These crabs are very good to eat; moreover, under
the tail of the larger ones there is a mass of fat, which, when melted,
sometimes yields as much as a quart-bottleful of limpid oil. It has
been stated by some authors that the Birgos crawls up the cocoa-nut
trees for the purpose of stealing the nuts: I very much doubt the
possibility of this; but with the Pandanus[8] the task would be very
much easier. I was told by Mr. Liesk that on these islands the Birgos
lives only on the nuts which have fallen to the ground.
[8] See _Proceedings of the Zoological Society,_ 1832, p. 17.
Captain Moresby informs me that this crab inhabits the Chagos and
Seychelle groups, but not the neighbouring Maldiva archipelago. It
formerly abounded at Mauritius, but only a few small ones are now found
there. In the Pacific this species, or one with closely allied habits,
is said[9] to inhabit a single coral island north of the Society group.
To show the wonderful strength of the front pair of pincers, I may
mention that Captain Moresby confined one in a strong tin box, which
had held biscuits, the lid being secured with wire; but the crab turned
down the edges and escaped. In turning down the edges it actually
punched many small holes quite through the tin!
[9] Tyerman and Bennett, _Voyage,_ etc., vol. ii, p. 33.
I was a good deal surprised by finding two species of coral of the
genus Millepora (M. complanata and alcicornis), possessed of the power
of stinging. The stony branches or plates, when taken fresh from the
water, have a harsh feel and are not slimy, although possessing a
strong and disagreeable smell. The stinging property seems to vary in
different specimens: when a piece was pressed or rubbed on the tender
skin of the face or arm, a pricking sensation was usually caused, which
came on after the interval of a second, and lasted only for a few
minutes. One day, however, by merely touching my face with one of the
branches, pain was instantaneously caused; it increased as usual after
a few seconds, and remaining sharp for some minutes, was perceptible
for half an hour afterwards. The sensation was as bad as that from a
nettle, but more like that caused by the Physalia or Portuguese
man-of-war. Little red spots were produced on the tender skin of the
arm, which appeared as if they would have formed watery pustules, but
did not. M. Quoy mentions this case of the Millepora; and I have heard
of stinging corals in the West Indies. Many marine animals seem to have
this power of stinging: besides the Portuguese man-of-war, many
jelly-fish, and the Aplysia or sea-slug of the Cape de Verd Islands, it
is stated in the _Voyage_
_of the Astrolabe_ that an Actinia or sea-anemone, as well as a
flexible coralline allied to Sertularia, both possess this means of
offence or defence. In the East Indian sea a stinging sea-weed is said
to be found.
Two species of fish, of the genus Scarus, which are common here,
exclusively feed on coral: both are coloured of a splendid
bluish-green, one living invariably in the lagoon, and the other
amongst the outer breakers. Mr. Liesk assured us that he had repeatedly
seen whole shoals grazing with their strong bony jaws on the tops of
the coral branches: I opened the intestines of several and found them
distended with yellowish calcareous sandy mud. The slimy disgusting
Holuthuriæ (allied to our star-fish), which the Chinese gourmands are
so fond of, also feed largely, as I am informed by Dr. Allan, on
corals; and the bony apparatus within their bodies seems well adapted
for this end. These holuthuriæ, the fish, the numerous burrowing
shells, and nereidous worms, which perforate every block of dead coral,
must be very efficient agents in producing the fine white mud which
lies at the bottom and on the shores of the lagoon. A portion, however,
of this mud, which when wet resembled pounded chalk, was found by
Professor Ehrenberg to be partly composed of siliceous-shielded
infusoria.
_April_ 12_th._—In the morning we stood out of the lagoon on our
passage to the Isle of France. I am glad we have visited these islands:
such formations surely rank high amongst the wonderful objects of this
world. Captain Fitz Roy found no bottom with a line 7200 feet in
length, at the distance of only 2200 yards from the shore; hence this
island forms a lofty submarine mountain, with sides steeper even than
those of the most abrupt volcanic cone. The saucer-shaped summit is
nearly ten miles across; and every single atom,[10] from the least
particle to the largest fragment of rock, in this great pile, which
however is small compared with very many other lagoon islands, bears
the stamp of having been subjected to organic arrangement. We feel
surprise when travellers tell us of the vast dimensions of the Pyramids
and other great ruins, but how utterly insignificant are the greatest
of these, when compared
to these mountains of stone accumulated by the agency of various minute
and tender animals! This is a wonder which does not at first strike the
eye of the body, but, after reflection, the eye of reason.
[10] I exclude, of course, some soil which has been imported here in
vessels from Malacca and Java, and likewise some small fragments of
pumice, drifted here by the waves. The one block of greenstone,
moreover, on the northern island must be excepted.
Whitsunday Island
I will now give a very brief account of the three great classes of
coral-reefs; namely, Atolls, Barrier, and Fringing Reefs, and will
explain my views[11] on their formation. Almost every voyager who has
crossed the Pacific has expressed his unbounded astonishment at the
lagoon islands, or as I shall for the future call them by their Indian
name of atolls, and has attempted some explanation. Even as long ago as
the year 1605, Pyrard de Laval well exclaimed, “C’est une merveille de
voir chacun de ces atollons, environné d’un grand banc de pierre tout
autour, n’y ayant point d’artifice humain.” The accompanying sketch of
Whitsunday Island in the Pacific, copied from Captain Beechey’s
admirable _Voyage_, gives but a faint idea of the singular aspect of an
atoll: it is one of the smallest size, and has its narrow islets united
together in a ring. The immensity of the ocean, the fury of the
breakers, contrasted with the lowness of the land and the smoothness of
the bright green water within the lagoon, can hardly be imagined
without having been seen.
[11] These were first read before the Geological Society in May 1837
and have since been developed in a separate volume on the _Structure
and Distribution of Coral Reefs._
The earlier voyagers fancied that the coral-building animals
instinctively built up their great circles to afford themselves
protection in the inner parts; but so far is this from the truth
that those massive kinds, to whose growth on the exposed outer shores
the very existence of the reef depends, cannot live within the lagoon,
where other delicately-branching kinds flourish. Moreover, on this
view, many species of distinct genera and families are supposed to
combine for one end; and of such a combination, not a single instance
can be found in the whole of nature. The theory that has been most
generally received is that atolls are based on submarine craters; but
when we consider the form and size of some, the number, proximity, and
relative positions of others, this idea loses its plausible character:
thus Suadiva atoll is 44 geographical miles in diameter in one line, by
34 miles in another line; Rimsky is 54 by 20 miles across, and it has a
strangely sinuous margin; Bow atoll is 30 miles long, and on an average
only 6 in width; Menchicoff atoll consists of three atolls united or
tied together. This theory, moreover, is totally inapplicable to the
northern Maldiva atolls in the Indian Ocean (one of which is 88 miles
in length, and between 10 and 20 in breadth), for they are not bounded
like ordinary atolls by narrow reefs, but by a vast number of separate
little atolls; other little atolls rising out of the great central
lagoon-like spaces. A third and better theory was advanced by Chamisso,
who thought that from the corals growing more vigorously where exposed
to the open sea, as undoubtedly is the case, the outer edges would grow
up from the general foundation before any other part, and that this
would account for the ring or cup-shaped structure. But we shall
immediately see, that in this, as well as in the crater-theory, a most
important consideration has been overlooked, namely, on what have the
reef-building corals, which cannot live at a great depth, based their
massive structures?
Numerous soundings were carefully taken by Captain Fitz Roy on the
steep outside of Keeling atoll, and it was found that within ten
fathoms the prepared tallow at the bottom of the lead invariably came
up marked with the impressions of living corals, but as perfectly clean
as if it had been dropped on a carpet of turf; as the depth increased,
the impressions became less numerous, but the adhering particles of
sand more and more numerous, until at last it was evident that the
bottom consisted of a smooth sandy layer; to carry on the analogy of
the turf, the blades of grass grew thinner and thinner, till at
last the soil was so sterile that nothing sprang from it. From these
observations, confirmed by many others, it may be safely inferred that
the utmost depth at which corals can construct reefs is between 20 and
30 fathoms. Now there are enormous areas in the Pacific and Indian
Oceans in which every single island is of coral formation, and is
raised only to that height to which the waves can throw up fragments,
and the winds pile up sand. Thus the Radack group of atolls is an
irregular square, 520 miles long and 240 broad; the Low Archipelago is
elliptic-formed, 840 miles in its longer, and 420 in its shorter axis:
there are other small groups and single low islands between these two
archipelagoes, making a linear space of ocean actually more than 4000
miles in length, in which not one single island rises above the
specified height. Again, in the Indian Ocean there is a space of ocean
1500 miles in length, including three archipelagoes, in which every
island is low and of coral formation. From the fact of the
reef-building corals not living at great depths, it is absolutely
certain that throughout these vast areas, wherever there is now an
atoll, a foundation must have originally existed within a depth of from
20 to 30 fathoms from the surface. It is improbable in the highest
degree that broad, lofty, isolated, steep-sided banks of sediment,
arranged in groups and lines hundreds of leagues in length, could have
been deposited in the central and profoundest parts of the Pacific and
Indian Oceans, at an immense distance from any continent, and where the
water is perfectly limpid. It is equally improbable that the elevatory
forces should have uplifted throughout the above vast areas,
innumerable great rocky banks within 20 to 30 fathoms, or 120 to 180
feet, of the surface of the sea, and not one single point above that
level; for where on the whole face of the globe can we find a single
chain of mountains, even a few hundred miles in length, with their many
summits rising within a few feet of a given level, and not one pinnacle
above it? If then the foundations, whence the atoll-building corals
sprang, were not formed of sediment, and if they were not lifted up to
the required level, they must of necessity have subsided into it; and
this at once solves the difficulty. For as mountain after mountain, and
island after island, slowly sank beneath the water, fresh bases would
be successively afforded for the growth
of the corals. It is impossible here to enter into all the necessary
details, but I venture to defy[12] any one to explain in any other
manner how it is possible that numerous islands should be distributed
throughout vast areas—all the islands being low—all being built of
corals, absolutely requiring a foundation within a limited depth from
the surface.
[12] It is remarkable that Mr. Lyell, even in the first edition of his
_Principles of Geology,_ inferred that the amount of subsidence in the
Pacific must have exceeded that of elevation, from the area of land
being very small relatively to the agents there tending to form it,
namely, the growth of coral and volcanic action.
Barrier-reef, Bolabola
Before explaining how atoll-formed reefs acquire their peculiar
structure, we must turn to the second great class, namely,
Barrier-reefs. These either extend in straight lines in front of the
shores of a continent or of a large island, or they encircle smaller
islands; in both cases, being separated from the land by a broad and
rather deep channel of water, analogous to the lagoon within an atoll.
It is remarkable how little attention has been paid to encircling
barrier-reefs; yet they are truly wonderful structures. The
accompanying sketch represents part of the barrier encircling the
island of Bolabola in the Pacific, as seen from one of the central
peaks. In this instance the whole line of reef has been converted into
land; but usually a snow-white line of great breakers, with only here
and there a single low islet crowned with cocoa-nut trees, divides the
dark heaving waters of the ocean from the light green expanse of the
lagoon-channel. And the quiet waters of this channel generally bathe a
fringe of low alluvial soil, loaded with the most beautiful productions
of the tropics, and lying at the foot of the wild, abrupt, central
mountains.
Encircling barrier-reefs are of all sizes, from three miles to no less
than forty-four miles in diameter; and that which fronts one side, and
encircles both ends, of New Caledonia, is 400 miles long. Each reef
includes one, two, or several rocky islands of various heights; and in
one instance, even as many as twelve separate islands. The reef runs at
a greater or less distance from the included land; in the Society
Archipelago generally from one to three or four miles; but at Hogoleu
the reef is 20 miles on the southern side, and 14 miles on the opposite
or northern side, from the included islands. The depth within the
lagoon-channel also varies much; from 10 to 30 fathoms may be taken as
an average; but at Vanikoro there are spaces no less than 56 fathoms or
336 feet deep. Internally the reef either slopes gently into the
lagoon-channel, or ends in a perpendicular wall sometimes between two
and three hundred feet under water in height: externally the reef
rises, like an atoll, with extreme abruptness out of the profound
depths of the ocean. What can be more singular than these structures?
We see an island, which may be compared to a castle situated on the
summit of a lofty submarine mountain, protected by a great wall of
coral-rock, always steep externally and sometimes internally, with a
broad level summit, here and there breached by narrow gateways, through
which the largest ships can enter the wide and deep encircling moat.
As far as the actual reef of coral is concerned, there is not the
smallest difference in general size, outline, grouping, and even in
quite trifling details of structure, between a barrier and an atoll.
The geographer Balbi has well remarked that an encircled island is an
atoll with high land rising out of its lagoon; remove the land from
within, and a perfect atoll is left.
But what has caused these reefs to spring up at such great distances
from the shores of the included islands? It cannot be that the corals
will not grow close to the land; for the shores within the
lagoon-channel, when not surrounded by alluvial soil, are often fringed
by living reefs; and we shall presently see that there is a whole
class, which I have called Fringing-reefs from their close attachment
to the shores both of continents and of islands. Again, on what have
the
reef-building corals, which cannot live at great depths, based their
encircling structures? This is a great apparent difficulty, analogous
to that in the case of atolls, which has generally been overlooked. It
will be perceived more clearly by inspecting the following sections
which are real ones, taken in north and south lines, through the
islands with their barrier-reefs, of Vanikoro, Gambier, and Maurua; and
they are laid down, both vertically and horizontally, on the same scale
of a quarter of an inch to a mile.
Sections of barrier-reefs
It should be observed that the sections might have been taken in any
direction through these islands, or through many other encircled
islands, and the general features would have been the same. Now bearing
in mind that reef-building coral cannot live at a greater depth than
from 20 to 30 fathoms, and that the scale is so small that the plummets
on the right hand show a depth of 200 fathoms, on what are these
barrier-reefs based? Are we to suppose that each island is surrounded
by a collar-like submarine ledge of rock, or by a great bank of
sediment, ending abruptly where the reef ends? If the sea had formerly
eaten deeply into the islands, before they were protected by the reefs,
thus having left a shallow ledge round them under water, the present
shores would have been invariably bounded by great precipices; but this
is most rarely the case. Moreover, on this notion, it is not possible
to explain
why the corals should have sprung up, like a wall, from the extreme
outer margin of the ledge, often leaving a broad space of water within,
too deep for the growth of corals. The accumulation of a wide bank of
sediment all round these islands, and generally widest where the
included islands are smallest, is highly improbable, considering their
exposed positions in the central and deepest parts of the ocean. In the
case of the barrier-reef of New Caledonia, which extends for 150 miles
beyond the northern point of the island, in the same straight line with
which it fronts the west coast, it is hardly possible to believe that a
bank of sediment could thus have been straightly deposited in front of
a lofty island, and so far beyond its termination in the open sea.
Finally, if we look to other oceanic islands of about the same height
and of similar geological constitution, but not encircled by
coral-reefs, we may in vain search for so trifling a circumambient
depth as 30 fathoms, except quite near to their shores; for usually
land that rises abruptly out of water, as do most of the encircled and
non-encircled oceanic islands, plunges abruptly under it. On what then,
I repeat, are these barrier reefs based? Why, with their wide and deep
moat-like channels, do they stand so far from the included land? We
shall soon see how easily these difficulties disappear.
We come now to our third class of Fringing-reefs, which will require a
very short notice. Where the land slopes abruptly under water, these
reefs are only a few yards in width, forming a mere ribbon or fringe
round the shores: where the land slopes gently under the water the reef
extends farther, sometimes even as much as a mile from the land; but in
such cases the soundings outside the reef always show that the
submarine prolongation of the land is gently inclined. In fact the
reefs extend only to that distance from the shore at which a foundation
within the requisite depth from 20 to 30 fathoms is found. As far as
the actual reef is concerned, there is no essential difference between
it and that forming a barrier or an atoll: it is, however, generally of
less width, and consequently few islets have been formed on it. From
the corals growing more vigorously on the outside, and from the noxious
effect of the sediment washed inwards, the outer edge of the reef is
the highest part, and between it and the land
there is generally a shallow sandy channel a few feet in depth. Where
banks of sediment have accumulated near to the surface, as in parts of
the West Indies, they sometimes become fringed with corals, and hence
in some degree resemble lagoon-islands or atolls, in the same manner as
fringing-reefs, surrounding gently sloping islands, in some degree
resemble barrier-reefs.
Section of coral-reef
No theory on the formation of coral-reefs can be considered
satisfactory which does not include the three great classes. We have
seen that we are driven to believe in the subsidence of those vast
areas, interspersed with low islands, of which not one rises above the
height to which the wind and waves can throw up matter, and yet are
constructed by animals requiring a foundation, and that foundation to
lie at no great depth. Let us then take an island surrounded by
fringing-reefs, which offer no difficulty in their structure; and let
this island with its reef, represented by the unbroken lines in Plate
96, slowly subside. Now as the island sinks down, either a few feet at
a time or quite insensibly, we may safely infer, from what is known of
the conditions favourable to the growth of coral, that the living
masses, bathed by the surf on the margin of the reef, will soon regain
the surface. The water, however, will encroach little by little on the
shore, the island becoming lower and smaller, and the space between the
inner edge of the reef and the beach proportionally broader. A section
of the reef and island in this state, after a subsidence of several
hundred feet, is given by the dotted lines. Coral islets are supposed
to have been formed on the reef; and a ship is anchored in the
lagoon-channel. This channel will be more or less deep, according to
the rate of subsidence, to the amount of sediment accumulated in it,
and to the growth of the delicately branched corals which can live
there. The section in this state resembles in every respect one drawn
through an encircled island: in fact, it is a real section (on the
scale of .517 of an inch to a mile) through Bolabola in the Pacific. We
can now at once see why encircling barrier-reefs stand so far from the
shores which they front. We can also perceive that a line drawn
perpendicularly down from the outer edge of the new reef, to the
foundation of solid rock beneath the old fringing-reef, will exceed by
as many feet as there have been feet of subsidence, that small limit of
depth at which the effective corals can live:—the little architects
having built up their great wall-like mass, as the whole sank down,
upon a basis formed of other corals and their consolidated fragments.
Thus the difficulty on this head, which appeared so great, disappears.
Section of coral-reef
If, instead of an island, we had taken the shore of a continent fringed
with reefs, and had imagined it to have subsided, a great straight
barrier, like that of Australia or New Caledonia, separated from the
land by a wide and deep channel, would evidently have been the result.
Let us take our new encircling barrier-reef, of which the section is
now represented by unbroken lines, and which, as I have said, is a real
section through Bolabola, and let it go on subsiding. As the
barrier-reef slowly sinks down, the corals
will go on vigorously growing upwards; but as the island sinks, the
water will gain inch by inch on the shore—the separate mountains first
forming separate islands within one great reef—and finally, the last
and highest pinnacle disappearing. The instant this takes place, a
perfect atoll is formed: I have said, remove the high land from within
an encircling barrier-reef, and an atoll is left, and the land has been
removed. We can now perceive how it comes that atolls, having sprung
from encircling barrier-reefs, resemble them in general size, form, in
the manner in which they are grouped together, and in their arrangement
in single or double lines; for they may be called rude outline charts
of the sunken islands over which they stand. We can further see how it
arises that the atolls in the Pacific and Indian Oceans extend in lines
parallel to the generally prevailing strike of the high islands and
great coast-lines of those oceans. I venture, therefore, to affirm that
on the theory of the upward growth of the corals during the sinking of
the land,[13] all the leading features in those wonderful structures,
the lagoon-islands or atolls, which have so long excited the attention
of voyagers, as well as in the no less wonderful barrier-reefs, whether
encircling small islands or stretching for hundreds of miles along the
shores of a continent, are simply explained.
[13] It has been highly satisfactory to me to find the following
passage in a pamphlet by Mr. Couthouy, one of the naturalists in the
great Antarctic Expedition of the United States:—“Having personally
examined a large number of coral-islands, and resided eight months
among the volcanic class having shore and partially encircling reefs,
I may be permitted to state that my own observations have impressed a
conviction of the correctness of the theory of Mr. Darwin.” The
naturalists, however, of this expedition differ with me on some points
respecting coral formations.
Bolabola Island
It may be asked whether I can offer any direct evidence of the
subsidence of barrier-reefs or atolls; but it must be borne in mind how
difficult it must ever be to detect a movement, the tendency of which
is to hide under water the part affected. Nevertheless, at Keeling
atoll I observed on all sides of the lagoon old cocoa-nut trees
undermined and falling; and in one place the foundation-posts of a
shed, which the inhabitants asserted had stood seven years before just
above high-water mark, but now was daily washed by every tide; on
inquiry I found that three earthquakes, one of them severe, had been
felt here during the last ten years. At Vanikoro
the lagoon-channel is remarkably deep, scarcely any alluvial soil has
accumulated at the foot of the lofty included mountains, and remarkably
few islets have been formed by the heaping of fragments and sand on the
wall-like barrier reef; these facts, and some analogous ones, led me to
believe that this island must lately have subsided and the reef grown
upwards: here again earthquakes are frequent and very severe. In the
Society Archipelago, on the other hand, where the lagoon-channels are
almost choked up, where much low alluvial land has accumulated, and
where in some cases long islets have been formed on the
barrier-reefs—facts all showing that the islands have not very lately
subsided—only feeble shocks are most rarely felt. In these coral
formations, where the land and water seem struggling for mastery, it
must be ever difficult to decide between the effects of a change in the
set of the tides and of a slight subsidence: that many of these reefs
and atolls are subject to changes of some kind is certain; on some
atolls the islets appear to have increased greatly within a late
period; on others they have been partially or wholly washed away. The
inhabitants of parts of the Maldiva Archipelago know the date of the
first formation of some islets; in other parts the corals are now
flourishing on water-washed reefs, where holes made for graves attest
the former existence of inhabited land. It is difficult to believe in
frequent changes in the tidal currents of an open ocean; whereas we
have in the earthquakes recorded by the natives on some atolls, and in
the great fissures observed on other atolls, plain evidence of changes
and disturbances in progress in the subterranean regions.
It is evident, on our theory, that coasts merely fringed by reefs
cannot have subsided to any perceptible amount; and therefore they
must, since the growth of their corals, either have remained stationary
or have been upheaved. Now it is remarkable how generally it can be
shown, by the presence of upraised organic remains, that the fringed
islands have been elevated: and so far, this is indirect evidence in
favour of our theory. I was particularly struck with this fact, when I
found, to my surprise,
that the descriptions given by MM. Quoy and Gaimard were applicable,
not to reefs in general as implied by them, but only to those of the
fringing class; my surprise, however, ceased when I afterwards found
that, by a strange chance, all the several islands visited by these
eminent naturalists could be shown by their own statements to have been
elevated within a recent geological era.
Not only the grand features in the structure of barrier-reefs and of
atolls, and of their likeness to each other in form, size, and other
characters, are explained on the theory of subsidence—which theory we
are independently forced to admit in the very areas in question, from
the necessity of finding bases for the corals within the requisite
depth—but many details in structure and exceptional cases can thus also
be simply explained. I will give only a few instances. In barrier-reefs
it has long been remarked with surprise that the passages through the
reef exactly face valleys in the included land, even in cases where the
reef is separated from the land by a lagoon-channel so wide and so much
deeper than the actual passage itself, that it seems hardly possible
that the very small quantity of water or sediment brought down could
injure the corals on the reef. Now, every reef of the fringing class is
breached by a narrow gateway in front of the smallest rivulet, even if
dry during the greater part of the year, for the mud, sand, or gravel
occasionally washed down kills the corals on which it is deposited.
Consequently, when an island thus fringed subsides, though most of the
narrow gateways will probably become closed by the outward and upward
growth of the corals, yet any that are not closed (and some must always
be kept open by the sediment and impure water flowing out of the
lagoon-channel) will still continue to front exactly the upper parts of
those valleys at the mouths of which the original basal fringing-reef
was breached.
Corals
We can easily see how an island fronted only on one side, or on one
side with one end or both ends encircled by barrier-reefs, might after
long-continued subsidence be converted either into a single wall-like
reef, or into an atoll with a great straight spur projecting from it,
or into two or three atolls tied together by straight reefs—all of
which exceptional cases actually occur. As the reef-building corals
require food, are preyed upon by other animals, are killed by sediment,
cannot adhere to a loose bottom, and may be easily carried down to a
depth whence they cannot spring up again, we need feel no
surprise at the reefs both of atolls and barriers becoming in parts
imperfect. The great barrier of New Caledonia is thus imperfect and
broken in many parts; hence, after long subsidence, this great reef
would not produce one great atoll 400 miles in length, but a chain or
archipelago of atolls, of very nearly the same dimensions with those in
the Maldiva Archipelago. Moreover, in an atoll once breached on
opposite sides, from the likelihood of the oceanic and tidal currents
passing straight through the breaches, it is extremely improbable that
the corals, especially during continued subsidence, would ever be able
again to unite the rim; if they did not, as the whole sank downwards,
one atoll would be divided into two or more. In the Maldiva Archipelago
there are distinct atolls so related to each other in position, and
separated by channels either unfathomable or very deep (the channel
between Ross and Ari atolls is 150 fathoms, and that between the north
and south Nillandoo atolls is 200 fathoms in depth), that it is
impossible to look at a map of them without believing that they were
once more intimately related. And in this same archipelago,
Mahlos-Mahdoo atoll is divided by a bifurcating channel from 100 to 132
fathoms in depth, in such a manner that it is scarcely possible to say
whether it ought strictly to be
called three separate atolls, or one great atoll not yet finally
divided.
I will not enter on many more details; but I must remark that the
curious structure of the northern Maldiva atolls receives (taking into
consideration the free entrance of the sea through their broken
margins) a simple explanation in the upward and outward growth of the
corals, originally based both on small detached reefs in their lagoons,
such as occur in common atolls, and on broken portions of the linear
marginal reef, such as bounds every atoll of the ordinary form. I
cannot refrain from once again remarking on the singularity of these
complex structures—a great sandy and generally concave disk rises
abruptly from the unfathomable ocean, with its central expanse studded
and its edge symmetrically bordered with oval basins of coral-rock just
lipping the surface of the sea, sometimes clothed with vegetation, and
each containing a lake of clear water!
One more point in detail: as in the two neighbouring archipelagoes
corals flourish in one and not in the other, and as so many conditions
before enumerated must affect their existence, it would be an
inexplicable fact if, during the changes to which earth, air, and water
are subjected, the reef-building corals were to keep alive for
perpetuity on any one spot or area. And as by our theory the areas
including atolls and barrier-reefs are subsiding, we ought occasionally
to find reefs both dead and submerged. In all reefs, owing to the
sediment being washed out of the lagoon or lagoon-channel to leeward,
that side is least favourable to the long-continued vigorous growth of
the corals; hence dead portions of reef not unfrequently occur on the
leeward side; and these, though still retaining their proper wall-like
form, are now in several instances sunk several fathoms beneath the
surface. The Chagos group appears from some cause, possibly from the
subsidence having been too rapid, at present to be much less favourably
circumstanced for the growth of reefs than formerly: one atoll has a
portion of its marginal reef, nine miles in length, dead and submerged;
a second has only a few quite small living points which rise to the
surface, a third and fourth are entirely dead and submerged; a fifth is
a mere wreck, with its structure almost obliterated. It is remarkable
that in all these cases the dead reefs and portions of reef
lie at nearly the same depth, namely, from six to eight fathoms beneath
the surface, as if they had been carried down by one uniform movement.
One of these “half-drowned atolls,” so called by Captain Moresby (to
whom I am indebted for much invaluable information), is of vast size,
namely, ninety nautical miles across in one direction, and seventy
miles in another line; and is in many respects eminently curious. As by
our theory it follows that new atolls will generally be formed in each
new area of subsidence, two weighty objections might have been raised,
namely, that atolls must be increasing indefinitely in number; and
secondly, that in old areas of subsidence each separate atoll must be
increasing indefinitely in thickness, if proofs of their occasional
destruction could not have been adduced. Thus have we traced the
history of these great rings of coral-rock, from their first origin
through their normal changes, and through the occasional accidents of
their existence, to their death and final obliteration.
In my volume on _Coral Formations_ I have published a map, in which I
have coloured all the atolls dark-blue, the barrier-reefs pale-blue,
and the fringing reefs red. These latter reefs have been formed whilst
the land has been stationary, or, as appears from the frequent presence
of upraised organic remains, whilst it has been slowly rising: atolls
and barrier-reefs, on the other hand, have grown up during the directly
opposite movement of subsidence, which movement must have been very
gradual, and in the case of atolls so vast in amount as to have buried
every mountain-summit over wide ocean-spaces. Now in this map we see
that the reefs tinted pale and dark-blue, which have been produced by
the same order of movement, as a general rule manifestly stand near
each other. Again we see that the areas with the two blue tints are of
wide extent; and that they lie separate from extensive lines of coast
coloured red, both of which circumstances might naturally have been
inferred, on the theory of the nature of the reefs having been governed
by the nature of the earth’s movement. It deserves notice that in more
than one instance where single red and blue circles approach near each
other, I can show that there have been oscillations of level; for in
such cases the red or fringed
circles consist of atolls, originally by our theory formed during
subsidence, but subsequently upheaved; and on the other hand, some of
the pale-blue or encircled islands are composed of coral-rock, which
must have been uplifted to its present height before that subsidence
took place, during which the existing barrier-reefs grew upwards.
Authors have noticed with surprise that although atolls are the
commonest coral-structures throughout some enormous oceanic tracts,
they are entirely absent in other seas, as in the West Indies: we can
now at once perceive the cause, for where there has not been
subsidence, atolls cannot have been formed; and in the case of the West
Indies and parts of the East Indies, these tracts are known to have
been rising within the recent period. The larger areas, coloured red
and blue, are all elongated; and between the two colours there is a
degree of rude alternation, as if the rising of one had balanced the
sinking of the other. Taking into consideration the proofs of recent
elevation both on the fringed coasts and on some others (for instance,
in South America) where there are no reefs, we are led to conclude that
the great continents are for the most part rising areas: and from the
nature of the coral-reefs, that the central parts of the great oceans
are sinking areas. The East Indian Archipelago, the most broken land in
the world, is in most parts an area of elevation, but surrounded and
penetrated, probably in more lines than one, by narrow areas of
subsidence.
I have marked with vermilion spots all the many known active volcanos
within the limits of this same map. Their entire absence from every one
of the great subsiding areas, coloured either pale or dark blue, is
most striking; and not less so is the coincidence of the chief volcanic
chains with the parts coloured red, which we are led to conclude have
either long remained stationary, or more generally have been recently
upraised. Although a few of the vermilion spots occur within no great
distance of single circles tinted blue, yet not one single active
volcano is situated within several hundred miles of an archipelago, or
even small group of atolls. It is, therefore, a striking fact that in
the Friendly Archipelago, which consists of a group of atolls upheaved
and since partially worn down, two volcanos, and perhaps more, are
historically
known to have been in action. On the other hand, although most of the
islands in the Pacific which are encircled by barrier-reefs are of
volcanic origin, often with the remnants of craters still
distinguishable, not one of them is known to have ever been in
eruption. Hence in these cases it would appear that volcanos burst
forth into action and become extinguished on the same spots,
accordingly as elevatory or subsiding movements prevail there.
Numberless facts could be adduced to prove that upraised organic
remains are common wherever there are active volcanos; but until it
could be shown that in areas of subsidence volcanos were either absent
or inactive, the inference, however probable in itself, that their
distribution depended on the rising or falling of the earth’s surface,
would have been hazardous. But now, I think, we may freely admit this
important deduction.
Taking a final view of the map, and bearing in mind the statements made
with respect to the upraised organic remains, we must feel astonished
at the vastness of the areas which have suffered changes in level
either downwards or upwards, within a period not geologically remote.
It would appear also that the elevatory and subsiding movements follow
nearly the same laws. Throughout the spaces interspersed with atolls,
where not a single peak of high land has been left above the level of
the sea, the sinking must have been immense in amount. The sinking,
moreover, whether continuous, or recurrent with intervals sufficiently
long for the corals again to bring up their living edifices to the
surface, must necessarily have been extremely slow. This conclusion is
probably the most important one which can be deduced from the study of
coral formations;—and it is one which it is difficult to imagine how
otherwise could ever have been arrived at. Nor can I quite pass over
the probability of the former existence of large archipelagoes of lofty
islands, where now only rings of coral-rock scarcely break the open
expanse of the sea, throwing some light on the distribution of the
inhabitants of the other high islands, now left standing so immensely
remote from each other in the midst of the great oceans. The
reef-constructing corals have indeed reared and preserved wonderful
memorials of the subterranean oscillations of level; we see in each
barrier-reef a proof that the land has
there subsided, and in each atoll a monument over an island now lost.
We may thus, like unto a geologist who had lived his ten thousand years
and kept a record of the passing changes, gain some insight into the
great system by which the surface of this globe has been broken up, and
land and water interchanged.
[Illustration: Birgos Latro, Keeling Island]
[Illustration: St. Louis, Mauritius]
Chapter XXI
MAURITIUS TO ENGLAND
Mauritius, beautiful appearance of—Great crateriform ring of
mountains—Hindoos—St. Helena—History of the changes in the
vegetation—Cause of the extinction of land-shells—Ascension—Variation
in the imported rats—Volcanic bombs—Beds of infusoria—Bahia,
Brazil—Splendour of tropical scenery—Pernambuco—Singular
reef—Slavery—Return to England—Retrospect on our voyage.
_April_ 29_th._—In the morning we passed round the northern end of
Mauritius, or the Isle of France. From this point of view the aspect of
the island equalled the expectations raised by the many well-known
descriptions of its beautiful scenery. The sloping plain of the
Pamplemousses, interspersed with houses, and coloured by the large
fields of sugar-cane of a bright green, composed the foreground. The
brilliancy of the green was the more remarkable because it is a colour
which generally is conspicuous only from a very short distance. Towards
the centre of the island groups of wooded mountains rose out of this
highly cultivated plain; their summits, as so commonly happens with
ancient volcanic rocks, being jagged
into the sharpest points. Masses of white clouds were collected around
these pinnacles, as if for the sake of pleasing the stranger’s eye. The
whole island, with its sloping border and central mountains, was
adorned with an air of perfect elegance: the scenery, if I may use such
an expression, appeared to the sight harmonious.
I spent the greater part of the next day in walking about the town and
visiting different people. The town is of considerable size, and is
said to contain 20,000 inhabitants; the streets are very clean and
regular. Although the island has been so many years under the English
government, the general character of the place is quite French:
Englishmen speak to their servants in French, and the shops are all
French; indeed I should think that Calais or Boulogne was much more
Anglified. There is a very pretty little theatre in which operas are
excellently performed. We were also surprised at seeing large
booksellers’ shops, with well-stored shelves;—music and reading bespeak
our approach to the old world of civilisation; for in truth both
Australia and America are new worlds.
The various races of men walking in the streets afford the most
interesting spectacle in Port Louis. Convicts from India are banished
here for life; at present there are about 800, and they are employed in
various public works. Before seeing these people, I had no idea that
the inhabitants of India were such noble-looking figures. Their skin is
extremely dark, and many of the older men had large mustaches and
beards of a snow-white colour; this, together with the fire of their
expression, gave them quite an imposing aspect. The greater number had
been banished for murder and the worst crimes; others for causes which
can scarcely be considered as moral faults, such as for not obeying,
from superstitious motives, the English laws. These men are generally
quiet and well-conducted; from their outward conduct, their cleanliness
and faithful observance of their strange religious rites, it was
impossible to look at them with the same eyes as on our wretched
convicts in New South Wales.
_May_ 1_st._—Sunday. I took a quiet walk along the sea-coast to the
north of the town. The plain in this part is quite uncultivated; it
consists of a field of black lava, smoothed over with coarse grass and
bushes, the latter being chiefly Mimosas.
The scenery may be described as intermediate in character between that
of the Galapagos and of Tahiti; but this will convey a definite idea to
very few persons. It is a very pleasant country, but it has not the
charms of Tahiti, or the grandeur of Brazil. The next day I ascended La
Pouce, a mountain so called from a thumb-like projection, which rises
close behind the town to a height of 2,600 feet. The centre of the
island consists of a great platform, surrounded by old broken basaltic
mountains, with their strata dipping seawards. The central platform,
formed of comparatively recent streams of lava, is of an oval shape,
thirteen geographical miles across in the line of its shorter axis. The
exterior bounding mountains come into that class of structures called
Craters of Elevation, which are supposed to have been formed not like
ordinary craters, but by a great and sudden upheaval. There appear to
me to be insuperable objections to this view: on the other hand, I can
hardly believe, in this and in some other cases, that these marginal
crateriform mountains are merely the basal remnants of immense
volcanos, of which the summits either have been blown off or swallowed
up in subterranean abysses.
From our elevated position we enjoyed an excellent view over the
island. The country on this side appears pretty well cultivated, being
divided into fields and studded with farm-houses. I was however assured
that of the whole land not more than half is yet in a productive state;
if such be the case, considering the present large export of sugar,
this island, at some future period when thickly peopled, will be of
great value. Since England has taken possession of it, a period of only
twenty-five years, the export of sugar is said to have increased
seventy-five fold. One great cause of its prosperity is the excellent
state of the roads. In the neighbouring Isle of Bourbon, which remains
under the French government, the roads are still in the same miserable
state as they were here only a few years ago. Although the French
residents must have largely profited by the increased prosperity of
their island, yet the English government is far from popular.
3_rd._—In the evening Captain Lloyd, the Surveyor-general, so well
known from his examination of the Isthmus of Panama, invited Mr. Stokes
and myself to his country-house, which is situated on the edge of
Wilheim Plains, and about six miles
from the Port. We stayed at this delightful place two days; standing
nearly 800 feet above the sea, the air was cool and fresh, and on every
side there were delightful walks. Close by a grand ravine has been worn
to a depth of about 500 feet through the slightly inclined streams of
lava, which have flowed from the central platform.
5_th._—Captain Lloyd took us to the Rivière Noire, which is several
miles to the southward, that I might examine some rocks of elevated
coral. We passed through pleasant gardens, and fine fields of
sugar-cane growing amidst huge blocks of lava. The roads were bordered
by hedges of Mimosa, and near many of the houses there were avenues of
the mango. Some of the views where the peaked hills and the cultivated
farms were seen together, were exceedingly picturesque; and we were
constantly tempted to exclaim “How pleasant it would be to pass one’s
life in such quiet abodes!” Captain Lloyd possessed an elephant, and he
sent it half-way with us, that we might enjoy a ride in true Indian
fashion. The circumstance which surprised me most was its quite
noiseless step. This elephant is the only one at present on the island;
but it is said others will be sent for.
_May_ 9_th._—We sailed from Port Louis, and, calling at the Cape of
Good Hope, on the 8th of July we arrived off St. Helena. This island,
the forbidding aspect of which has been so often described, rises
abruptly like a huge black castle from the ocean. Near the town, as if
to complete nature’s defence, small forts and guns fill up every gap in
the rugged rocks. The town runs up a flat and narrow valley; the houses
look respectable, and are interspersed with a very few green trees.
When approaching the anchorage there was one striking view: an
irregular castle perched on the summit of a lofty hill, and surrounded
by a few scattered fir-trees, boldly projected against the sky.
The next day I obtained lodgings within a stone’s throw of Napoleon’s
tomb;[1] it was a capital central situation, whence I
could make excursions in every direction. During the four days I stayed
here I wandered over the island from morning to night and examined its
geological history. My lodgings were situated at a height of about 2000
feet; here the weather was cold and boisterous, with constant showers
of rain; and every now and then the whole scene was veiled in thick
clouds.
[1] After the volumes of eloquence which have poured forth on this
subject, it is dangerous even to mention the tomb. A modern traveller,
in twelve lines, burdens the poor little island with the following
titles,—it is a grave, tomb, pyramid, cemetery, sepulchre, catacomb,
sarcophagus, minaret, and mausoleum!
St. Helena
Near the coast the rough lava is quite bare: in the central and higher
parts feldspathic rocks by their decomposition have produced a clayey
soil, which, where not covered by vegetation, is stained in broad bands
of many bright colours. At this season the land, moistened by constant
showers, produces a singularly bright green pasture, which lower and
lower down gradually fades away and at last disappears. In latitude
16°, and at the trifling elevation of 1500 feet, it is surprising to
behold a vegetation possessing a character decidedly British. The hills
are crowned with irregular plantations of Scotch firs; and the sloping
banks are thickly scattered over with thickets of gorse, covered with
its bright yellow flowers. Weeping-willows are common on the banks of
the rivulets, and the hedges are made of the blackberry, producing its
well-known fruit. When we consider that the number of plants now found
on the island is 746, and that out of these fifty-two alone are
indigenous species, the rest having been imported, and most of them
from England, we see the reason of the British character of the
vegetation. Many of these English plants appear to flourish better than
in their native country; some also from the opposite quarter of
Australia succeed remarkably well. The many imported species must have
destroyed some of the native kinds; and it is only on the highest and
steepest ridges that the indigenous Flora is now predominant.
The English, or rather Welsh character of the scenery, is kept up by
the numerous cottages and small white houses; some buried at the bottom
of the deepest valleys, and others mounted on the crests of the lofty
hills. Some of the views are striking, for instance that from near Sir
W. Doveton’s house, where the bold peak called Lot is seen over a dark
wood of firs, the whole being backed by the red water-worn mountains of
the southern coast. On viewing the island from an eminence, the first
circumstance which strikes one is the number of the roads and forts:
the labour bestowed on the public works, if one forgets its character
as a prison, seems out of all proportion to its extent or value. There
is so little level or useful land that it seems surprising how so many
people, about 5000, can subsist here. The lower orders, or the
emancipated slaves, are, I believe, extremely poor: they complain of
the want of work. From the reduction in the number of public servants,
owing to the island having been given up by the East India Company, and
the consequent emigration of many of the richer people, the poverty
probably will increase. The chief food of the working class is rice
with a little salt meat; as neither of these articles are the products
of the island, but must be purchased with money, the low wages tell
heavily on the poor people. Now that the people are blessed with
freedom, a right which I believe they value fully, it seems probable
that their numbers will quickly increase: if so, what is to become of
the little state of St. Helena?
My guide was an elderly man who had been a goatherd when a boy, and
knew every step amongst the rocks. He was of a race many times crossed,
and although with a dusky skin, he had not the disagreeable expression
of a mulatto. He was a very civil, quiet old man, and such appears the
character of the greater number of the lower classes. It was strange to
my ears to hear a man, nearly white and respectably dressed, talking
with indifference of the times when he was a slave. With my companion,
who carried our dinners and a horn of water, which is quite necessary,
as all the water in the lower valleys is saline, I every day took long
walks.
Beneath the upper and central green circle, the wild valleys are quite
desolate and untenanted. Here, to the geologist, there were scenes of
high interest, showing successive changes and complicated disturbances.
According to my views, St. Helena has existed as an island from a very
remote epoch: some obscure proofs, however, of the elevation of the
land are still extant. I believe that the central and highest peaks
form parts of the rim of a great crater, the southern half of which has
been entirely removed by the waves of the sea: there is, moreover, an
external wall of black basaltic rocks, like the coast-mountains of
Mauritius, which are older than the central volcanic streams. On the
higher parts of the island considerable numbers of a shell, long
thought to be a marine species, occur imbedded in the soil. It proves
to be a Cochlogena, or land-shell of a very peculiar form;[2] with it I
found six other kinds; and in another spot an eighth species. It is
remarkable that none of them are now found living. Their extinction has
probably been caused by the entire destruction of the woods, and the
consequent loss of food and shelter, which occurred during the early
part of the last century.
[2] It deserves notice that all the many specimens of this shell found
by me in one spot differ as a marked variety from another set of
specimens procured from a different spot.
The history of the changes which the elevated plains of Longwood and
Deadwood have undergone, as given in General Beatson’s account of the
island, is extremely curious. Both plains, it is said, in former times
were covered with wood, and were therefore called the Great Wood. So
late as the year 1716 there were many trees, but in 1724 the old trees
had mostly fallen; and as goats and hogs had been suffered to range
about, all the young trees had been killed. It appears also from the
official records that the trees were unexpectedly, some years
afterwards, succeeded by a wire grass which spread over the whole
surface.[3] General Beatson adds that now this
plain “is covered with fine sward, and is become the finest piece of
pasture on the island.” The extent of surface, probably covered by wood
at a former period, is estimated at no less than two thousand acres; at
the present day scarcely a single tree can be found there. It is also
said that in 1709 there were quantities of dead trees in Sandy Bay;
this place is now so utterly desert that nothing but so well attested
an account could have made me believe that they could ever have grown
there. The fact that the goats and hogs destroyed all the young trees
as they sprang up, and that in the course of time the old ones, which
were safe from their attacks, perished from age, seems clearly made
out. Goats were introduced in the year 1502; eighty-six years
afterwards, in the time of Cavendish, it is known that they were
exceedingly numerous. More than a century afterwards, in 1731, when the
evil was complete and irretrievable, an order was issued that all stray
animals should be destroyed. It is very interesting thus to find that
the arrival of animals at St. Helena in 1501 did not change the whole
aspect of the island, until a period of two hundred and twenty years
had elapsed: for the goats were introduced in 1502, and in 1724 it is
said “the old trees had mostly fallen.” There can be little doubt that
this great change in the vegetation affected not only the land-shells,
causing eight species to become extinct, but likewise a multitude of
insects.
[3] Beatson’s _St. Helena_. Introductory chapter, p. 4.
St. Helena, situated so remote from any continent, in the midst of a
great ocean, and possessing a unique Flora, excites our curiosity. The
eight land-shells, though now extinct, and one living Succinea, are
peculiar species found nowhere else. Mr. Cuming, however, informs me
that an English Helix is common here, its eggs no doubt having been
imported in some of the many introduced plants. Mr. Cuming collected on
the coast sixteen species of sea-shells, of which seven, as far as he
knows, are confined to this island. Birds and insects,[4] as
might have been expected, are very few in number; indeed I believe all
the birds have been introduced within late years. Partridges and
pheasants are tolerably abundant; the island is much too English not to
be subject to strict game-laws. I was told of a more unjust sacrifice
to such ordinances than I ever heard of even in England. The poor
people formerly used to burn a plant which grows on the coast-rocks,
and export the soda from its ashes; but a peremptory order came out
prohibiting this practice, and giving as a reason that the partridges
would have nowhere to build!
[4] Among these few insects I was surprised to find a small Aphodius
(nov. spec.) and an Oryctes, both extremely numerous under dung. When
the island was discovered it certainly possessed no quadruped
excepting _perhaps_ a mouse: it becomes, therefore, a difficult point
to ascertain, whether these stercovorous insects have since been
imported by accident, or if aborigines, on what food they formerly
subsisted. On the banks of the Plata, where, from the vast number of
cattle and horses, the fine plains of turf are richly manured, it is
vain to seek the many kinds of dung-feeding beetles which occur so
abundantly in Europe. I observed only an Oryctes (the insects of this
genus in Europe generally feed on decayed vegetable matter) and two
species of Phanæus, common in such situations. On the opposite side of
the Cordillera in Chiloe another species of Phanæus is exceedingly
abundant, and it buries the dung of the cattle in large earthen balls
beneath the ground. There is reason to believe that the genus Phanæus,
before the introduction of cattle, acted as scavengers to man. In
Europe beetles which find support in the matter which has already
contributed towards the life of other and larger animals, are so
numerous that there must be considerably more than one hundred
different species. Considering this, and observing what a quantity of
food of this kind is lost on the plains of La Plata, I imagined I saw
an instance where man had disturbed that chain by which so many
animals are linked together in their native country. In Van Diemen’s
Land, however, I found four species of Onthophagus, two of Aphodius,
and one of a third genus, very abundant under the dung of cows; yet
these latter animals had been then introduced only thirty-three years.
Previous to that time the kangaroo and some other small animals were
the only quadrupeds; and their dung is of a very different quality
from that of their successors introduced by man. In England the
greater number of stercovorous beetles are confined in their
appetites; that is, they do not depend indifferently on any quadruped
for the means of subsistence. The change, therefore, in habits which
must have taken place in Van Diemen’s Land is highly remarkable. I am
indebted to the Reverend F. W. Hope, who, I hope, will permit me to
call him my master in Entomology, for giving me the names of the
foregoing insects.
In my walks I passed more than once over the grassy plain, bounded by
deep valleys, on which Longwood stands. Viewed from a short distance,
it appears like a respectable gentleman’s country-seat. In front there
are a few cultivated fields, and beyond them the smooth hill of
coloured rocks called the Flagstaff, and the rugged square black mass
of the Barn. On the whole the view was rather bleak and uninteresting.
The only inconvenience I suffered during my walks was from the
impetuous winds. One day I noticed a curious circumstance: standing on
the edge of a plain, terminated by a great cliff of about a thousand
feet in depth, I saw at the distance of a few yards right to windward,
some tern, struggling against a very strong breeze, whilst, where I
stood, the air was quite calm.
Approaching close to the brink, where the current seemed to be
deflected upwards from the face of the cliff, I stretched out my arm,
and immediately felt the full force of the wind: an invisible barrier,
two yards in width, separated perfectly calm air from a strong blast.
I so much enjoyed my rambles among the rocks and mountains of St.
Helena that I felt almost sorry on the morning of the 14th to descend
to the town. Before noon I was on board, and the _ Beagle_ made sail.
On the 19th of July we reached Ascension. Those who have beheld a
volcanic island situated under an arid climate will at once be able to
picture to themselves the appearance of Ascension. They will imagine
smooth conical hills of a bright red colour, with their summits
generally truncated, rising separately out of a level surface of black
rugged lava. A principal mound in the centre of the island seems the
father of the lesser cones. It is called Green Hill: its name being
taken from the faintest tinge of that colour, which at this time of the
year is barely perceptible from the anchorage. To complete the desolate
scene, the black rocks on the coast are lashed by a wild and turbulent
sea.
The settlement is near the beach; it consists of several houses and
barracks placed irregularly, but well built of white freestone. The
only inhabitants are marines, and some negroes liberated from
slave-ships, who are paid and victualled by government. There is not a
private person on the island. Many of the marines appeared well
contented with their situation; they think it better to serve their
one-and-twenty years on shore, let it be what it may, than in a ship;
in this choice, if I were a marine, I should most heartily agree.
The next morning I ascended Green Hill, 2840 feet high, and thence
walked across the island to the windward point. A good cart-road leads
from the coast-settlement to the houses, gardens, and fields, placed
near the summit of the central mountain. On the roadside there are
milestones, and likewise cisterns, where each thirsty passer-by can
drink some good water. Similar care is displayed in each part of the
establishment, and especially in the management of the springs, so that
a single drop of water may not be lost: indeed the whole island
may be compared to a huge ship kept in first-rate order. I could not
help, when admiring the active industry which had created such effects
out of such means, at the same time regretting that it had been wasted
on so poor and trifling an end. M. Lesson has remarked with justice
that the English nation would have thought of making the island of
Ascension a productive spot, any other people would have held it as a
mere fortress in the ocean.
Near this coast nothing grows; farther inland an occasional green
castor-oil plant, and a few grasshoppers, true friends of the desert,
may be met with. Some grass is scattered over the surface of the
central elevated region, and the whole much resembles the worse parts
of the Welsh mountains. But, scanty as the pasture appears, about six
hundred sheep, many goats, a few cows and horses, all thrive well on
it. Of native animals, land-crabs and rats swarm in numbers. Whether
the rat is really indigenous may well be doubted; there are two
varieties as described by Mr. Waterhouse; one is of a black colour,
with fine glossy fur, and lives on the grassy summit, the other is
brown-coloured and less glossy, with longer hairs, and lives near the
settlement on the coast. Both these varieties are one-third smaller
than the common black rat (M. rattus); and they differ from it both in
the colour and character of their fur, but in no other essential
respect. I can hardly doubt that these rats (like the common mouse,
which has also run wild) have been imported, and, as at the Galapagos,
have varied from the effect of the new conditions to which they have
been exposed: hence the variety on the summit of the island differs
from that on the coast. Of native birds there are none; but the
guinea-fowl, imported from the Cape de Verd Islands, is abundant, and
the common fowl has likewise run wild. Some cats which were originally
turned out to destroy the rats and mice, have increased, so as to
become a great plague. The island is entirely without trees, in which,
and in every other respect, it is very far inferior to St. Helena.
One of my excursions took me towards the south-west extremity of the
island. The day was clear and hot, and I saw the island, not smiling
with beauty, but staring with naked hideousness. The lava streams are
covered with hummocks, and are rugged to a degree which, geologically
speaking, is not of easy
explanation. The intervening spaces are concealed with layers of
pumice, ashes and volcanic tuff. Whilst passing this end of the island
at sea, I could not imagine what the white patches were with which the
whole plain was mottled; I now found that they were sea-fowl, sleeping
in such full confidence, that even in mid-day a man could walk up and
seize hold of them. These birds were the only living creatures I saw
during the whole day. On the beach a great surf, although the breeze
was light, came tumbling over the broken lava rocks.
Cellular formation of volcanic bomb
The geology of this island is in many respects interesting. In several
places I noticed volcanic bombs, that is, masses of lava which have
been shot through the air whilst fluid, and have consequently assumed a
spherical or pear-shape. Not only their external form, but, in several
cases, their internal structure shows in a very curious manner that
they have revolved in their aërial course. The internal structure of
one of these bombs, when broken, is represented very accurately in
Plate 103. The central part is coarsely cellular, the cells decreasing
in size towards the exterior; where there is a shell-like case about
the third of an inch in thickness, of compact stone, which again is
overlaid by the outside crust of finely cellular lava. I think there
can be little doubt, first, that the external crust cooled rapidly in
the state in which we now see it;
secondly, that the still fluid lava within was packed by the
centrifugal force generated by the revolving of the bomb, against the
external cooled crust, and so produced the solid shell of stone; and
lastly, that the centrifugal force, by relieving the pressure in the
more central parts of the bomb, allowed the heated vapours to expand
their cells, thus forming the coarse cellular mass of the centre.
A hill formed of the older series of volcanic rocks, and which has been
incorrectly considered as the crater of a volcano, is remarkable from
its broad, slightly hollowed, and circular summit having been filled up
with many successive layers of ashes and fine scoriæ. These
saucer-shaped layers crop out on the margin, forming perfect rings of
many different colours, giving to the summit a most fantastic
appearance; one of these rings is white and broad, and resembles a
course round which horses have been exercised; hence the hill has been
called the Devil’s Riding School. I brought away specimens of one of
the tufaceous layers of a pinkish colour and it is a most extraordinary
fact that Professor Ehrenberg[5] finds it almost wholly composed of
matter which has been organised; he detects in it some
siliceous-shielded, fresh-water infusoria, and no less than twenty-five
different kinds of the siliceous tissue of plants, chiefly of grasses.
From the absence of all carbonaceous matter, Professor Ehrenberg
believes that these organic bodies have passed through the volcanic
fire, and have been erupted in the state in which we now see them. The
appearance of the layers induced me to believe that they had been
deposited under water, though from the extreme dryness of the climate I
was forced to imagine that torrents of rain had probably fallen during
some great eruption, and that thus a temporary lake had been formed
into which the ashes fell. But it may now be suspected that the lake
was not a temporary one. Anyhow we may feel sure that at some former
epoch the climate and productions of Ascension were very different from
what they now are. Where on the face of the earth can we find a spot on
which close investigation will not discover signs of that endless cycle
of change, to which this earth has been, is, and will be subjected?
[5] _Monats. der König. Akad. d. Wiss. zu Berlin,_ Vom April 1845.
On leaving Ascension, we sailed for Bahia, on the coast of
Brazil, in order to complete the chronometrical measurement of the
world. We arrived there on August 1st, and stayed four days, during
which I took several long walks. I was glad to find my enjoyment in
tropical scenery had not decreased from the want of novelty, even in
the slightest degree. The elements of the scenery are so simple that
they are worth mentioning, as a proof on what trifling circumstances
exquisite natural beauty depends.
The country may be described as a level plain of about three hundred
feet in elevation, which in all parts has been worn into flat-bottomed
valleys. This structure is remarkable in a granitic land, but is nearly
universal in all those softer formations of which plains are usually
composed. The whole surface is covered by various kinds of stately
trees, interspersed with patches of cultivated ground, out of which
houses, convents, and chapels arise. It must be remembered that within
the tropics the wild luxuriance of nature is not lost even in the
vicinity of large cities: for the natural vegetation of the hedges and
hill-sides overpowers in picturesque effect the artificial labour of
man. Hence, there are only a few spots where the bright red soil
affords a strong contrast with the universal clothing of green. From
the edges of the plain there are distant views either of the ocean, or
of the great Bay with its low-wooded shores, and on which numerous
boats and canoes show their white sails. Excepting from these points,
the scene is extremely limited; following the level pathways, on each
hand, only glimpses into the wooded valleys below can be obtained. The
houses I may add, and especially the sacred edifices, are built in a
peculiar and rather fantastic style of architecture. They are all
whitewashed; so that when illumined by the brilliant sun of mid-day,
and as seen against the pale blue sky of the horizon, they stand out
more like shadows than real buildings.
Such are the elements of the scenery, but it is a hopeless attempt to
paint the general effect. Learned naturalists describe these scenes of
the tropics by naming a multitude of objects, and mentioning some
characteristic feature of each. To a learned traveller this possibly
may communicate some definite ideas: but who else from seeing a plant
in an herbarium can imagine its appearance when growing in its native
soil? Who from seeing choice plants in a hothouse can
magnify some into the dimensions of forest trees, and crowd others into
an entangled jungle? Who when examining in the cabinet of the
entomologist the gay exotic butterflies, and singular cicadas, will
associate with these lifeless objects the ceaseless harsh music of the
latter and the lazy flight of the former,—the sure accompaniments of
the still, glowing noonday of the tropics? It is when the sun has
attained its greatest height that such scenes should be viewed: then
the dense splendid foliage of the mango hides the ground with its
darkest shade, whilst the upper branches are rendered from the
profusion of light of the most brilliant green. In the temperate zones
the case is different—the vegetation there is not so dark or so rich,
and hence the rays of the declining sun, tinged of a red, purple, or
bright yellow colour, add most to the beauties of those climes.
When quietly walking along the shady pathways, and admiring each
successive view, I wished to find language to express my ideas. Epithet
after epithet was found too weak to convey to those who have not
visited the intertropical regions the sensation of delight which the
mind experiences. I have said that the plants in a hothouse fail to
communicate a just idea of the vegetation, yet I must recur to it. The
land is one great wild, untidy, luxuriant hothouse, made by Nature for
herself, but taken possession of by man, who has studded it with gay
houses and formal gardens. How great would be the desire in every
admirer of nature to behold, if such were possible, the scenery of
another planet! yet to every person in Europe, it may be truly said,
that at the distance of only a few degrees from his native soil the
glories of another world are opened to him. In my last walk I stopped
again and again to gaze on these beauties, and endeavoured to fix in my
mind for ever an impression which at the time I knew sooner or later
must fail. The form of the orange-tree, the cocoa-nut, the palm, the
mango, the tree-fern, the banana, will remain clear and separate; but
the thousand beauties which unite these into one perfect scene must
fade away: yet they will leave, like a tale heard in childhood, a
picture full of indistinct, but most beautiful figures.
_August_ 6_th._—In the afternoon we stood out to sea, with the
intention of making a direct course to the Cape de Verd
Islands. Unfavourable winds, however, delayed us, and on the 12th we
ran into Pernambuco,—a large city on the coast of Brazil, in latitude
8° south. We anchored outside the reef; but in a short time a pilot
came on board and took us into the inner harbour, where we lay close to
the town.
Pernambuco is built on some narrow and low sand-banks which are
separated from each other by shoal channels of salt water. The three
parts of the town are connected together by two long bridges built on
wooden piles. The town is in all parts disgusting, the streets being
narrow, ill-paved, and filthy; the houses tall and gloomy. The season
of heavy rains had hardly come to an end, and hence the surrounding
country, which is scarcely raised above the level of the sea, was
flooded with water; and I failed in all my attempts to take long walks.
The flat swampy land on which Pernambuco stands is surrounded, at the
distance of a few miles, by a semicircle of low hills, or rather by the
edge of a country elevated perhaps two hundred feet above the sea. The
old city of Olinda stands on one extremity of this range. One day I
took a canoe, and proceeded up one of the channels to visit it; I found
the old town from its situation both sweeter and cleaner than that of
Pernambuco. I must here commemorate what happened for the first time
during our nearly five years’ wandering, namely, having met with a want
of politeness; I was refused in a sullen manner at two different
houses, and obtained with difficulty from a third, permission to pass
through their gardens to an uncultivated hill, for the purpose of
viewing the country. I feel glad that this happened in the land of the
Brazilians, for I bear them no good will—a land also of slavery, and
therefore of moral debasement. A Spaniard would have felt ashamed at
the very thought of refusing such a request, or of behaving to a
stranger with rudeness. The channel by which we went to and returned
from Olinda was bordered on each side by mangroves, which sprang like a
miniature forest out of the greasy mud-banks. The bright green colour
of these bushes always reminded me of the rank grass in a churchyard:
both are nourished by putrid exhalations; the one speaks of death past,
and the other too often of death to come.
Cicada Homoptera
The most curious object which I saw in this neighbourhood was the reef
that forms the harbour. I doubt whether in the whole world any other
natural structure has so artificial an appearance.[6] It runs for a
length of several miles in an absolutely straight line, parallel to and
not far distant from the shore. It varies in width from thirty to sixty
yards, and its surface is level and smooth; it is composed of
obscurely-stratified hard sandstone. At high water the waves break over
it; at low water its summit is left dry, and it might then be mistaken
for a breakwater erected by Cyclopean workmen. On this coast the
currents of the sea tend to throw up in front of the land long spits
and bars of loose sand, and on one of these part of the town of
Pernambuco stands. In former times a long spit of this nature seems to
have become consolidated by the percolation of calcareous matter, and
afterwards to have been gradually upheaved; the outer and loose parts
during this process having been worn away by the action of the sea, and
the solid nucleus left as we now see it. Although night and day the
waves of the open Atlantic, turbid with sediment, are driven against
the steep outside edges of this wall of stone, yet the oldest pilots
know of no tradition of any change in its appearance. This durability
is much the most curious fact in its history: it is due to a tough
layer, a few inches thick, of calcareous matter, wholly formed by the
successive growth and death of the small shells of Serpulæ, together
with some few barnacles and nulliporæ. These nulliporæ, which are hard,
very simply-organised sea-plants, play an analogous and important part
in protecting the upper surfaces of coral-reefs, behind and within the
breakers, where
the true corals, during the outward growth of the mass, become killed
by exposure to the sun and air. These insignificant organic beings,
especially the Serpulæ, have done good service to the people of
Pernambuco; for without their protective aid the bar of sandstone would
inevitably have been long ago worn away and without the bar, there
would have been no harbour.
[6] I have described this Bar in detail in the _ Lond. and Edin. Phil.
Mag._ vol. xix, (1841) p. 257.
On the 19th of August we finally left the shores of Brazil. I thank
God, I shall never again visit a slave-country. To this day, if I hear
a distant scream, it recalls with painful vividness my feelings, when
passing a house near Pernambuco, I heard the most pitiable moans, and
could not but suspect that some poor slave was being tortured, yet knew
that I was as powerless as a child even to remonstrate. I suspected
that these moans were from a tortured slave, for I was told that this
was the case in another instance. Near Rio de Janeiro I lived opposite
to an old lady, who kept screws to crush the fingers of her female
slaves. I have stayed in a house where a young household mulatto, daily
and hourly, was reviled, beaten, and persecuted enough to break the
spirit of the lowest animal. I have seen a little boy, six or seven
years old, struck thrice with a horse-whip (before I could interfere)
on his naked head, for having handed me a glass of water not quite
clean; I saw his father tremble at a mere glance from his master’s eye.
These latter cruelties were witnessed by me in a Spanish colony, in
which it has always been said that slaves are better treated than by
the Portuguese, English, or other European nations. I have seen at Rio
de Janeiro a powerful negro afraid to ward off a blow directed, as he
thought, at his face. I was present when a kind-hearted man was on the
point of separating forever the men, women, and little children of a
large number of families who had long lived together. I will not even
allude to the many heart-sickening atrocities which I authentically
heard of;—nor would I have mentioned the above revolting details, had I
not met with several people, so blinded by the constitutional gaiety of
the negro as to speak of slavery as a tolerable evil. Such people have
generally visited at the houses of the upper classes, where the
domestic slaves are usually well treated, and they have not, like
myself, lived amongst the lower classes. Such inquirers will ask
slaves about their condition; they forget that the slave must indeed be
dull who does not calculate on the chance of his answer reaching his
master’s ears.
Homeward bound
It is argued that self-interest will prevent excessive cruelty; as if
self-interest protected our domestic animals, which are far less likely
than degraded slaves to stir up the rage of their savage masters. It is
an argument long since protested against with noble feeling, and
strikingly exemplified, by the ever-illustrious Humboldt. It is often
attempted to palliate slavery by comparing the state of slaves with our
poorer countrymen: if the misery of our poor be caused not by the laws
of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin; but how this
bears on slavery, I cannot see; as well might the use of the
thumb-screw be defended in one land, by showing that men in another
land suffered from some dreadful disease. Those who look tenderly at
the slave owner, and with a cold heart at the slave, never seem to put
themselves into the position of the latter;—what a cheerless prospect,
with not even a hope of change! picture to yourself the chance, ever
hanging over you, of your wife and your little children—those objects
which nature urges even the slave to call his own—being torn from you
and sold like beasts to the first bidder!
And these deeds are done and palliated by men who profess to love their
neighbours as themselves, who believe in God, and pray that His Will be
done on earth! It makes one’s blood boil, yet heart tremble, to think
that we Englishmen and our American descendants, with their boastful
cry of liberty, have been and are so guilty; but it is a consolation to
reflect, that we at least have made a greater sacrifice than ever made
by any nation, to expiate our sin.
On the last day of August we anchored for the second time at Porto
Praya in the Cape de Verd archipelago; thence we proceeded to the
Azores, where we stayed six days. On the 2nd of October we made the
shores of England; and at Falmouth I left the _Beagle_, having lived on
board the good little vessel nearly five years.
Our Voyage having come to an end, I will take a short retrospect of the
advantages and disadvantages, the pains and pleasures, of our
circumnavigation of the world. If a person asked my advice, before
undertaking a long voyage, my answer would depend upon his possessing a
decided taste for some branch of knowledge, which could by this means
be advanced. No doubt it is a high satisfaction to behold various
countries and the many races of mankind, but the pleasures gained at
the time do not counterbalance the evils. It is necessary to look
forward to a harvest, however distant that may be, when some fruit will
be reaped, some good effected.
Many of the losses which must be experienced are obvious; such as that
of the society of every old friend, and of the sight of those places
with which every dearest remembrance is so intimately connected. These
losses, however, are at the time partly relieved by the exhaustless
delight of anticipating the long-wished-for day of return. If, as poets
say, life is a dream, I am sure in a voyage these are the visions which
best serve to pass away the long night. Other losses, although not at
first felt, tell heavily after a period: these are the want of room, of
seclusion, of rest; the jading feeling of constant hurry; the privation
of small luxuries, the loss of domestic society and even of music and
the other pleasures of imagination. When such trifles are mentioned, it
is evident that the real grievances,
excepting from accidents, of a sea-life are at an end. The short space
of sixty years has made an astonishing difference in the facility of
distant navigation. Even in the time of Cook, a man who left his
fireside for such expeditions underwent severe privations. A yacht now,
with every luxury of life, can circumnavigate the globe. Besides the
vast improvements in ships and naval resources, the whole western
shores of America are thrown open, and Australia has become the capital
of a rising continent. How different are the circumstances to a man
shipwrecked at the present day in the Pacific, to what they were in the
time of Cook! Since his voyage a hemisphere has been added to the
civilised world.
If a person suffer much from sea-sickness, let him weigh it heavily in
the balance. I speak from experience: it is no trifling evil, cured in
a week. If, on the other hand, he take pleasure in naval tactics, he
will assuredly have full scope for his taste. But it must be borne in
mind how large a proportion of the time, during a long voyage, is spent
on the water, as compared with the days in harbour. And what are the
boasted glories of the illimitable ocean? A tedious waste, a desert of
water, as the Arabian calls it. No doubt there are some delightful
scenes. A moonlight night, with the clear heavens and the dark
glittering sea, and the white sails filled by the soft air of a
gently-blowing trade-wind, a dead calm, with the heaving surface
polished like a mirror, and all still except the occasional flapping of
the canvas. It is well once to behold a squall with its rising arch and
coming fury, or the heavy gale of wind and mountainous waves. I
confess, however, my imagination had painted something more grand, more
terrific, in the full-grown storm. It is an incomparably finer
spectacle when beheld on shore, where the waving trees, the wild flight
of the birds, the dark shadows and bright lights, the rushing of the
torrents, all proclaim the strife of the unloosed elements. At sea the
albatross and little petrel fly as if the storm were their proper
sphere, the water rises and sinks as if fulfilling its usual task, the
ship alone and its inhabitants seem the objects of wrath. On a forlorn
and weather-beaten coast the scene is indeed different, but the
feelings partake more of horror than of wild delight.
Let us now look at the brighter side of the past time. The
pleasure derived from beholding the scenery and the general aspect of
the various countries we have visited has decidedly been the most
constant and highest source of enjoyment. It is probable that the
picturesque beauty of many parts of Europe exceeds anything which we
beheld. But there is a growing pleasure in comparing the character of
the scenery in different countries, which to a certain degree is
distinct from merely admiring its beauty. It depends chiefly on an
acquaintance with the individual parts of each view; I am strongly
induced to believe that as in music, the person who understands every
note will, if he also possesses a proper taste, more thoroughly enjoy
the whole, so he who examines each part of a fine view may also
thoroughly comprehend the full and combined effect. Hence, a traveller
should be a botanist, for in all views plants form the chief
embellishment. Group masses of naked rock even in the wildest forms,
and they may for a time afford a sublime spectacle, but they will soon
grow monotonous. Paint them with bright and varied colours, as in
Northern Chile, they will become fantastic; clothe them with
vegetation, they must form a decent, if not a beautiful picture.
When I say that the scenery of parts of Europe is probably superior to
anything which we beheld, I except, as a class by itself, that of the
intertropical zones. The two classes cannot be compared together; but I
have already often enlarged on the grandeur of those regions. As the
force of impressions generally depends on preconceived ideas, I may add
that mine were taken from the vivid descriptions in the _Personal
Narrative_ of Humboldt, which far exceed in merit anything else which I
have read. Yet with these high-wrought ideas, my feelings were far from
partaking of a tinge of disappointment on my first and final landing on
the shores of Brazil.
Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none exceed in
sublimity the primeval forests undefaced by the hand of man; whether
those of Brazil, where the powers of Life are predominant, or those of
Tierra del Fuego, where Death and Decay prevail. Both are temples
filled with the varied productions of the God of Nature:—no one can
stand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is more in
man than the mere breath of his body. In calling up images of the past,
I find that the plains of Patagonia
frequently cross before my eyes; yet these plains are pronounced by all
wretched and useless. They can be described only by negative
characters; without habitations, without water, without trees, without
mountains, they support merely a few dwarf plants. Why, then, and the
case is not peculiar to myself, have these arid wastes taken so firm a
hold on my memory? Why have not the still more level, the greener and
more fertile Pampas, which are serviceable to mankind, produced an
equal impression? I can scarcely analyse these feelings: but it must be
partly owing to the free scope given to the imagination. The plains of
Patagonia are boundless, for they are scarcely passable, and hence
unknown: they bear the stamp of having lasted, as they are now, for
ages, and there appears no limit to their duration through future time.
If, as the ancients supposed, the flat earth was surrounded by an
impassable breadth of water, or by deserts heated to an intolerable
excess, who would not look at these last boundaries to man’s knowledge
with deep but ill-defined sensations?
Lastly, of natural scenery, the views from lofty mountains, though
certainly in one sense not beautiful, are very memorable. When looking
down from the highest crest of the Cordillera, the mind, undisturbed by
minute details, was filled with the stupendous dimensions of the
surrounding masses.
Of individual objects, perhaps nothing is more certain to create
astonishment than the first sight in his native haunt of a
barbarian,—of man in his lowest and most savage state. One’s mind
hurries back over past centuries, and then asks, Could our progenitors
have been men like these?—men, whose very signs and expressions are
less intelligible to us than those of the domesticated animals; men,
who do not possess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to
boast of human reason, or at least of arts consequent on that reason. I
do not believe it is possible to describe or paint the difference
between savage and civilised man. It is the difference between a wild
and tame animal: and part of the interest in beholding a savage is the
same which would lead every one to desire to see the lion in his
desert, the tiger tearing his prey in the jungle, or the rhinoceros
wandering over the wild plains of Africa.
Among the other most remarkable spectacles which we
have beheld, may be ranked the Southern Cross, the cloud of Magellan,
and the other constellations of the southern hemisphere—the
waterspout—the glacier leading its blue stream of ice, overhanging the
sea in a bold precipice—a lagoon-island raised by the reef-building
corals—an active volcano—and the overwhelming effects of a violent
earthquake. These latter phenomena, perhaps, possess for me a peculiar
interest, from their intimate connexion with the geological structure
of the world. The earthquake, however, must be to every one a most
impressive event: the earth, considered from our earliest childhood as
the type of solidity, has oscillated like a thin crust beneath our
feet; and in seeing the laboured works of man in a moment overthrown,
we feel the insignificance of his boasted power.
It has been said that the love of the chase is an inherent delight in
man—a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, I am sure the pleasure of
living in the open air, with the sky for a roof and the ground for a
table, is part of the same feeling; it is the savage returning to his
wild and native habits. I always look back to our boat cruises, and my
land journeys, when through unfrequented countries, with an extreme
delight, which no scenes of civilisation could have created. I do not
doubt that every traveller must remember the glowing sense of happiness
which he experienced when he first breathed in a foreign clime where
the civilised man had seldom or never trod.
There are several other sources of enjoyment in a long voyage which are
of a more reasonable nature. The map of the world ceases to be a blank;
it becomes a picture full of the most varied and animated figures. Each
part assumes its proper dimensions: continents are not looked at in the
light of islands, or islands considered as mere specks, which are, in
truth, larger than many kingdoms of Europe. Africa, or North and South
America, are well-sounding names, and easily pronounced; but it is not
until having sailed for weeks along small portions of their shores,
that one is thoroughly convinced what vast spaces on our immense world
these names imply.
From seeing the present state, it is impossible not to look forward
with high expectations to the future progress of nearly an entire
hemisphere. The march of improvement, consequent
on the introduction of Christianity throughout the South Sea, probably
stands by itself in the records of history. It is the more striking
when we remember that only sixty years since, Cook, whose excellent
judgment none will dispute, could foresee no prospect of a change. Yet
these changes have now been effected by the philanthropic spirit of the
British nation.
In the same quarter of the globe Australia is rising, or indeed may be
said to have risen, into a grand centre of civilisation, which, at some
not very remote period, will rule as empress over the southern
hemisphere. It is impossible for an Englishman to behold these distant
colonies without a high pride and satisfaction. To hoist the British
flag seems to draw with it as a certain consequence, wealth,
prosperity, and civilisation.
In conclusion it appears to me that nothing can be more improving to a
young naturalist than a journey in distant countries. It both sharpens
and partly allays that want and craving, which, as Sir J. Herschel
remarks, a man experiences although every corporeal sense be fully
satisfied. The excitement from the novelty of objects, and the chance
of success, stimulate him to increased activity. Moreover, as a number
of isolated facts soon become uninteresting, the habit of comparison
leads to generalisation. On the other hand, as the traveller stays but
a short time in each place, his descriptions must generally consist of
mere sketches, instead of detailed observations. Hence arises, as I
have found to my cost, a constant tendency to fill up the wide gaps of
knowledge by inaccurate and superficial hypotheses.
But I have too deeply enjoyed the voyage, not to recommend any
naturalist, although he must not expect to be so fortunate in his
companions as I have been, to take all chances, and to start, on
travels by land if possible, if otherwise, on a long voyage. He may
feel assured he will meet with no difficulties or dangers, excepting in
rare cases, nearly so bad as he beforehand anticipates. In a moral
point of view the effect ought to be to teach him good-humoured
patience, freedom from selfishness, the habit of acting for himself,
and of making the best of every occurrence. In short, he ought to
partake of the characteristic qualities of most sailors. Travelling
ought
also to teach him distrust; but at the same time he will discover how
many truly kind-hearted people there are, with whom he never before
had, or ever again will have any further communication, who yet are
ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance.
Ascension. Terns and noddies
List of Illustrations
H.M.S. _Beagle_ in Straits of Magellan. Mt. Sarmiento in the distance.
H.M.S. _Beagle_ under full sail, view from astern.
H.M.S. _Beagle_: Middle section fore and aft, upper deck, 1832.
Fernando Noronha.
Incrustation of shelly sand.
Diodon Maculatus (Distended and Contracted).
Pelagic Confervæ.
Catamaran (Bahia).
Botofogo Bay, Rio Janeiro.
Vampire Bat (Desmodus D’Orbigny).
Virgin Forest.
Cabbage Palm.
Mandioca or Cassava.
Rio Janeiro.
Darwin’s Papilio Feronia, 1833, now called Ageronia feronia, 1889.
Hydrochærus capybara or Water-hog.
Recado or Surcingle of Gaucho.
Halt at a Pulperia on the Pampas.
El Carmen, or Patagones, Rio Negro.
Brazilian whips.
Brazilian hobbles and spurs.
Bringing in a prisoner.
Irregular troops.
Skinning uji or water serpents.
Rhea Darwinii (Avestruz Petise).
Landing at Buenos Ayres.
Maté pots and bambillio.
Giant thistle of pampas.
Cynara Cardunculus or Cardoon.
Evening camp, Buenos Ayres.
Rozario.
Parana River.
Toxodon Platensis. (Found at Saladillo.)
Fossil tooth of horse. (From Bahia Blanca.)
Mylodon.
Head of Scissor-beak.
Rhynchops Nigra, or Scissor-beak.
Buenos Ayres bullock-waggons.
Fuegians and wigwams.
Opuntia Darwinii.
Raised beaches, Patagonia.
Ladies’ combs, banda oriental.
Condor (Sarcorhamphus gryphus).
Basaltic Glen, Santa Cruz.
Berkeley Sound, Falkland Islands.
York Minster (Bearing S. 66° east.)
Cape Horn.
Cape Horn (another view).
Bad weather, Magellan Straits.
Fuegian basket and bone weapons.
False Horn, Cape Horn.
Wollaston Island, Tierra del Fuego.
Patagonians from Cape Gregory.
Port Famine, Magellan.
Patagonian Bolas.
Patagonian Spurs and Pipe.
Cyttaria Darwinii.
Eyre Sound.
Glacier in Gulf of Penas.
Flora of Magellan.
Macrocystis Pyrifera, or Magellan Kelp.
Trochilus Forficatus.
Hacienda, condor, cactus, etc.
Chilian miner.
Cactus (Cereus Peruviana).
Cordilleras from Santiago de Chile.
Chilian spurs, stirrup, etc.
Old Church, Castro, Chiloe.
Inside Chonos Archipelago.
Gunnera Scabra, Chiloe.
Antuco Volcano, near Talcahuano.
Panoramic view of coast, Chiloe.
Inside Island of Chiloe. San Carlos.
Hide Bridge, Santiago de Chile.
Chilenos.
South American bit.
Bridge of the Incas, Uspallata Pass.
Lima and San Lorenzo.
Coquimbo, Chile.
Huacas, Peruvian pottery.
Testudo Abingdonii, Galapagos Islands.
Galapagos Archipelago.
Finches from Galapagos Archipelago.
Amblyrhynchus Cristatus.
Opuntia Galapageia.
Ava or Kava (Macropiper methysticum), Tahiti.
Eimeo and Barrier-Reef.
Fatahua Fall, Tahiti.
Tahitian.
Hippah, New Zealand.
Sydney, 1835.
Hobart Town and Mount Wellington.
Australian group of weapons and throwing sticks.
Inside an atoll, Keeling Island.
Whitsunday Island.
Barrier-reef, Bolabola.
Sections of barrier-reefs.
Section of coral-reef.
Section of coral-reef.
Bolabola Island.
Corals.
Birgos Latro, Keeling Island.
St. Louis, Mauritius.
St. Helena.
Cellular formation of volcanic bomb.
Cicada Homoptera.
Homeward bound.
Ascension. Terns and noddies.
Index
ABBOTT, Mr., on spiders, 36
Aborigines banished from Van Diemen’s Land, 475
of Australia, 430 to 458
Abrolhos Islands, 9, 14
Absence of trees in Pampas, 48
Aconcagua, volcano of, 269, 294, 312
Actinia, stinging species, 494
Africa, Southern part desert, yet supports large animals, 89
Ageronia feronia, 39
Agouti, habits of, 72
Ague common in Peru, 389
Albemarle Island, 401, 420
Allan, Dr., on Diodon, 14
on Holuthuriæ, 494
Alluvium, saliferous, in Peru, 367
stratified, in Andes, 333
Amblyrhynchus, 401, 411
Anas, species of, 210
Animalculæ. _See_ Infusoria
Antarctic islands, 263
Antipodes, 444
Ants at Keeling Island, 485
in Brazil, 36
Antuco volcano, 311
Apires, or miners 364
Aplysia, 6, 493
Apple-trees, 318
Aptenodytes demersa, 209
Araucanian Indians, 66
Areas of alternate movements in the Pacific and Indian oceans, 480
Armadilloes, habits of, 110
fossil animals allied to, 137, 164
Arqueros mines, 369
Arrow-heads, ancient, 109, 381
Ascension, 522, 538
Aspalax, blindness of, 53
Athene cunicularia, 73, 132
Atolls, 490, 495
Attagis, 98
Atwater, Mr., on the prairies, 124
Audubon, M., on smelling-power of carrion-hawks, 195
Australia, 459
Australian barrier, 499
group of weapons, 480
Ava (Macropiper methysticum), 428, 436
Azara on spiders, 39
on rain in La Plata, 49
on habits of carrion-hawks, 58
on range of carrion-hawks, 60
on a thunder-storm, 65
on ostrich-eggs, 95
on bows and arrows, 110
on new plants springing up, 125
on great droughts, 142
on hydrophobia, 378
BACHMAN, Mr., on carrion-hawks, 195
Bahia Blanca, 50, 70, 77 to 110
fossil tooth of horse from, 138
Bahia, Brazil, 11
scenery of, 526
Bajada, 136
Balbi on coral reefs, 499
Bald Head, Australia, 479
Ballenar, Chile, 373
Banda Oriental, 48, 152, 158, 186
Banks’s Hill, 221
Barking-bird, 307
Barrier-reef, Bolabola, 498
reefs, sections of, 500
Basaltic platform of Santa Cruz, 182
Bathurst, Australia, 470
Batrachian reptiles, 101
Bats, vampire, 22, 23
Bay of Islands, New Zealand, 444
Beads, hill of, 158
Beagle Channel, Tierra del Fuego, 230
Beech-trees, 251, 292
Beetles in brackish water, 22
on a fungus, 32
alive in sea, 168
at St. Julian, 180
dung-feeders, 520, 521
Behring’s Straits, fossils of, 140
Bell of Quillota, 270
Benchuca, 352
Berkeley Sound, 199, 214
Rev. J., on Confervæ, 15
on Cyttaria, 250
Berquelo river, 158
Bibron, M., 407
Bien te veo, 56
Birds of the Galapagos Archipelago, 405
tameness of, 424
Birgos latro, 492, 512
Bizcacha, habits of, 73, 130, 273
Blackheath, Australia, 466
Blackwall, Mr., on spiders, 171
Blindness of tucutuco, 53
Blue Mountains, 465
Body, frozen, 93, 263
Bolabola, barrier-reef, 498, 504
Bolas, manner of using, 46, 117
Bombs, volcanic, 524
Bones of the guanaco collected in certain spots, 177
fire made of, 205
recent in Pampas, 142
fossil, 86, 134, 137, 164, 182
Bory St. Vincent on frogs, 407
Boulders, 197, 262
Bramador, El, 358
Brazil, great area of granite, 12
Brazilian whips, etc., 75
Breaches in coral reefs, 502
Breakwater of seaweed, 253
Brewster, Sir D., on a calcareous deposit, 10
Bridge of hide, 334
of Incas, 357, 380, 394
Buckland, Dr., on fossils, 140
Buenos Ayres, 127
trading at, 111
evening camp, 128
bullock-waggons, 150
Buffon on American Animals, 183
Bug of Pampas, 352
Buildings, Indian, 381 to 383, 394
Bulimus on desert places, 371
Burchell, Mr., on food of quadrupeds, 91
on ostrich-eggs, 95
on perforated stones, 285
Butterflies, flocks of, 167
Butterfly producing clicking sound, 34
Button, Jemmy, 218
Byron’s account of fox of Falklands, 204
on an Indian killing his child, 228
CABBAGE PALM, 26
Cacti, 174, 278, 399
Cactornis, 405, 424
Cactus, Cereus Peruviana, 278
Calasoma on wing out at sea, 168
Calcareous casts of branches and roots of trees at King George’s Sound,
479
incrustations on rocks of Ascension, 9
Callao, 389, 391
Calodera, 132
Calomys bizcacha, 130
Camarhynchus, 405, 424
Camelidæ, fossil animal allied to, 182
Cancer salinus, 69
Canis antarcticus, 204
fulvipes, 287
Cape Horn, 222, 223
False Horn, 229, 243
of Good Hope, 91
Capybara, or carpincho, 40, 51, 182, 307
fossil allied to, 87
Caracara, or Carrancha, 57
Cardoon, beds of, 125, 157
Carizal, 371
Carmichael, Capt., 426
Carrion-hawks, 59, 126, 195
Casarita, 99
Cassava, 23
Castro, Chiloe, 296, 315
old church at, 291
Casuchas, 358
Catamaran, 18
Cathartes, 60, 195
Cats run wild, 123, 523
good to eat, 123
scratch trees, 144
cruelty to mice, 209
Cattle, effects of their grazing on the vegetation, 124
killed by great droughts, 142, 156
know each other, 155
curious breed of, 155
waste of, 158
wild at the Falkland Islands, 200, 203
Caucahue, 295
Cauquenes, hot springs of, 281
Causes of extinction of species among mammalia, 182
of discoloured sea, 15
Cavia Patagonica, 72
Cawa-Cawa, New Zealand, 456
Caylen, 298
Cervus campestris, 50
Ceryle Americana, 147
Chacao, Chiloe, 293
Chagos atolls, 508
Chalk-like mud, 494
Chamisso on drifted seeds and trees, 484, 491
on coral reefs, 496
Changes in vegetation of Pampas, 126
in vegetation of St. Helena, 519
Charles Island, 400, 420
Chatham Island, 399, 420
Cheese, salt required for, 68
Cheucau, 297, 307
Chile, 268, 271, 274
features of country, 270
Chilenos, 194, 337
Chilian miner, 277
spurs, stirrup, etc, 290
vegetation, 359
Chiloe, 291
old church at castro, 291
forests of, and climate, 292
inhabitants of, 292, 294
roads of, 293, 313, 314
Gunnera scabra, 310
Chionis alba, 98
Cholechel, conflict at, 109
Chonos Archipelago, 300, 304
climate of, 292
zoology of, 306
ornithology of, 307
Chupat, Rio, 110
Chuzo, 66
Cicada homoptera, 529
Cladonia, 387
Clearness of atmosphere within Andes, in Chile, 271
Climate of Tierra del Fuego and Falkland Islands, 257
Antarctic Islands, 263
change of, in Chile, 382
Galapagos, 397
Clouds of vapour after rain, 25
on Corcovado, 30
hanging low, 389
at sea, 429
Coleoptera in Tropics, 35
out at sea, 168
of St. Julian, 180
Colias edusa, flocks of, 168
Colnett, Capt., on spawn in sea, 17
on a marine lizard, 411
on transport of seeds, 418
Colonia del Sacramiento, 153
Colorado, Rio, 73
Compound animals, 211
Concepcion, Chile, 325
Conchalee, 362
Condor, habits of, 193, 196, 287
(Sarcorhamphus gryphus), 187
Confervæ, pelagic, 15
Conglomerate on the Ventana, 113
in Cordillera, 342
Conurus, 147
Convicts of Mauritius, 514
condition, in New South Wales, 473
Cook, Capt., on kelp, 253
Copiapó, river and valley of, 366, 370, 375, 385
town of, 374, 378
Coquimbo, 22, 365
Coral formations, 429, 502 to 509
stinging species of, 493
reefs, sections of, 502, 508
dead, 508
Corallines, 207
Corals, 507
Corcovado, clouds on, 30
volcano, 304
Cordillera, appearance of, 269, 292, 337
different productions on east and west side, 345
passage of, 334
structure of valleys, 335
rivers of, 338
geology of, 339, 354, 355
valley of Copiapó, 385
mountains, 435
Cormorant catching fish, 209
Corral, where animals are slaughtered at Buenos Ayres, 127
Corrientes, Cape, 168
Corrobery, or native Australian dance, 479
Corunda, 135
Coseguina, eruption of, 312, 376
Countries, unhealthy, 389
Couthouy, Mr., on coral-reefs, 504
Crabberies, 83
Crabs, hermit species of, 486
at St. Paul’s, 10
at Keeling Island, 492
Craters, number of, at the Galapagos Archipelago, 398
of Elevation, 515
Crisia, 211
Cruelty to animals, 162
Crustacea, pelagic, 171
Ctenomys Brasiliensis, 52
fossil species of, 86
Cucao, Chiloe, 315
Cuckoo-like habits of Molothrus, 55
Cudico, mission at, 320
Cuentas, Sierra de, 158
Cufre, 153
Cumbre of Cordillera, 358
Cuming, Mr., on shells, 416, 520
Cuttlefish, habits of, 7
Cuvier on Diodon, 14
Cynara cardunculus, 125
Cyttaria Darwinii, 250, 251
DACELO IAGOENSIS, 2
Dasypus, three species of, 100
Deer, 50, 139
Degradation of tertiary formations, 368
Deinornis, 455
Deserts, 371, 384
Desmodus, 22
Despoblado, valley of, 379
Dieffenbach, Dr., E., 2
on Auckland Island, 259, 464
Diodon, habits of, 13
Discoloured sea, 15
Diseases from miasma, 389, 464
Distribution of mammalia in America, 138
of animals on opposite sides of Cordillera, 348
of frogs, 407
of Fauna of Galapagos, 419
Dobrizhoffer on ostriches, 98
on a hail-storm, 122
Docks, imported, 455
Dogs, shepherd, 159
Dolichonyx oryzivorus, 404
D’Orbigny, Travels in South America, 81, 97, 125, 137, 159, 177
Doris, eggs of, 211
Dormidor, or horse-tamer, 160
Doubleday, Mr., on a noise made by a butterfly, 34
Drigg, lightning tubes at, 61
Droughts, great, in Pampas, 141
Dryness of St. Jago, 4
of winds in Tierra del Fuego, 245
of air in Cordillera, 348
Dubois, 407
Dung-feeding beetles, 520, 521
Dust, falling from atmosphere, 5
EARTHENWARE, fossil, 394
Earthquake, accompanied by an elevation of the coast, 331
accompanied by rain, 375
at Callao, 393
at Concepcion, 325
at Coquimbo, 366
at Keeling and Vanikoro, and Society Islands, 504
at Valdivia, 322
causes of, 330
effect of, on springs, 281
on bottom of sea, 327
effects of, on rocks, 274, 324
effects of, on sea, 323, 324, 325
effects of, on a river-bed, 381
line of vibration of, 328
on S.W. coast, 260
tossing fragments from the ground, 208
twisting movement of, 328
Eggs of Doris, 211
Ehrenberg, Prof., on Atlantic dust, 5
on infusoria in Pampas, 87, 137
in the open sea, 172
in Patagonia, 180
in Fuegian paint, 234
in coral mud, 494
in tuff at Ascension, 525
on phosphorescence of the sea, 172
on noises from a hill, 385
Eimeo, island of, 432; barrier-reef, 433
Elater, springing powers of, 32
Electricity of atmosphere within Andes, 348
Elephant, weight of, 91
Elevated shells, 89, 136, 180, 266, 313, 331, 367, 393
Elevation of coasts of Chile, 266, 313, 323, 331, 355, 367, 381
Bahia Blanca, 87
Pampas, 137
Patagonia, 180, 395
mountain-chains, 333
Cordillera, 338, 343, 354
Peru, 393
within human period, 395
fringing-reefs, 508
Entomology of the Galapagos Archipelago, 407, 418, 420
Brazil, 34
Patagonia, 180, 349
Tierra del Fuego, 253
Keeling Island, 485
St. Helena, 520
Entre Rios, geology of, 132
Epeira, habits of, 37 to 39
Erratic blocks, how transported, 262
absent in intertropical countries, 263
on plains of Santa Cruz, 196
of Tierra del Fuego, 262
Estancia, value of, 154
Extermination of species and races, 183, 462, 469, 476
Extinction of shells at St. Helena, 520
of species, causes of, 183
of man in New South Wales, 462, 476
Eyes of tucutuco and mole, 53
Eyre Sound, 260
FALCONER, Dr., on the Sivatherium, 155
on the Indians, 109
on rivers in Pampas, 112
on natural enclosures, 122
Falkland Islands, 199
absence of trees at, 48
carrion-hawks of, 57
wild cattle and horses of, 200
fox of, 204
climate of, 257
peat of, 305
tame birds at, 424
Fat, quantity eaten, 123
Fatahua fall, 436
Fear an acquired instinct, 426
Februa Hoffmanseggi, butterfly, 35
Fennel run wild, 125
Ferguson, Dr., on miasma, 390
Fernando Noronha, 2, 11, 173, 399
Ferns, tree, 259, 477
Fields of dead coral, 488
Fire, art of making, 205, 436
Fireflies, 31
Fish emitting harsh sound, 144
of Galapagos, 416
eating coral, 494
Flamingoes, 69
Fleas, 369
Floods after droughts, 142
clear after snow, 341
Flora of the Galapagos, 399, 418, 421
of Keeling Island, 483
of St. Helena, 523
Flustraceæ, 211
Forests, absence of, in La Plata, 47
of Tierra del Fuego, 220, 250, 305
of Chiloe, 250, 299, 305, 314
of Valdivia, 319, 322
of New Zealand, 436
of Australia, 445
Fossil Mammalia, 36, 134, 137, 164, 182
earthenware, 394
Fox of the Falkland Islands, 204
of Chiloe, 299
Freyrina, 372
Friendly Archipelago, 505
Fringing reefs, 501
Frogs, noises of, 30
bladders of, 409
and toads, not found on oceanic islands, 407
Frozen soil, 93, 257
Fruit-trees, southern limit of, 250
Fucus giganteus, 254
Fuegians, 151, 218 to 243
wigwams, 151, 224
basket and bone weapons, 230
Fulgurites, 62
Fungus, edible, 250
Furnarius, 99
GALAPAGOS ARCHIPELAGO, 398
natural history of, 403
marked relationship with America, 403
zoology of, 403, 419
finches from, 405
Gale of wind, 228, 300
Gallegos river, fossil bones at, 182
Gallinazo, 60
Gauchos, 46, 160
character of, 161
live on meat, 123
surcingle of, 46
Gavia mountain, 33
Gay, M., on floating islands, 283
on shells in brackish water, 22
Geese at the Falkland Islands, 210
Geographical distribution of American animals, 138, 349
of frogs, 407
of fauna of Galapagos, 419
Geology of Cordillera, 341, 355
of St. Jago, 6
of St. Paul, 8
of Brazil, 12
of Bahia Blanca, 86
of Pampas, 136
of Patagonia, 180, 190
Georgia, climate of, 263
Geospiza, 405, 420
Gill, Mr., on an upheaved river-bed, 382
Gillies, Dr., on the Cordillera, 345
Glaciers in Tierra del Fuego, 237, 260, 261
in lat. 46° 40′, 260
in Cordillera, 346
Glow-worms, 31
Goats destructive to vegetation at St. Helena, 520
bones of, 177
Goeree Roads, 230
Goître, 336
Gold-washing, 284
Good Success Bay, 214
Gossamer spider, 169
Gould, Mr., on the Calodera, 132
on birds of Galapagos, 404
Granite mountains, Tres Montes, 301
of Cordillera, 342
Graspus, 10
Gravel, how far transported, 113
of Patagonia, 78, 180
Graves of Indians, 179
Greenstone, fragments of, 274
Gregory, Cape, 245
Gryllus migratorius, 352
Guanaco, habits of, 175, 197
fossil allied genus, 182
Guantajaya, mines of, 387
Guardia del Monte, 124
Guasco, 367, 371, 375
Guasos of Chile, 275
Guava imported into Tahiti, 430
Guinea-fowl, 5, 523
Guitron, 279
Gunnera scabra, 298
Gypsum, great beds of, 342
in salt-lake, 68
in Patagonian tertiary beds, 180
at Iquique with salt, 388
at Lima with shells, 392
HACHETTE, M., on lightning-tubes, 62
Hacienda, condor, and cactus, 271
Hail-storm, 121
Hall, Captain Basil, on terraces of Coquimbo, 367
Hare, Varying, 47
Head, Captain, on thistle-beds, 125, 130
Height of snow-line on Cordillera, 259
Henslow, Prof., on potatoes, 304
on plants of Keeling Island, 483
Hermit crabs, 486
Hide bridge, 334
Hill emitting a noise, 385
Himantopus, 120
Hippah, New Zealand, 458
Hobart Town and Mount Wellington, 475
Hogoleu barrier-reef, 499
Holes made by a bird, 99
Holman on drifted seeds, 484
Holothuriæ feeding on coral, 494
Homeward bound, 531
Hooker, Sir J., on the Cardoon, 125
Dr. J. D., on the kelp, 253
on Galapageian plants, 418, 421
Horn, Cape, 223
Horner, Mr., on a calcareous deposit, 10
Horse, swimming powers of, 152
Horse, wild at the Falkland Islands, 202
fossil of extinct species of, 86, 138
Horse-fly, 180
Horsemanship of the Gauchos, 162, 206
Horses difficult to drive, 115
drop excrement on paths, 125
killed by great droughts, 141
multiplication of, 247
broken in, 160
Hot springs of Cauquenes, 281
Huacas, 394, 396
Humboldt on burnished rocks, 12
on the atmosphere in tropics, 33
on frozen soil, 93
on hybernation, 102
on potatoes, 304
on earthquakes and rain, 375
on miasma, 390, 463
Humming-birds of Rio de Janeiro, 33
of Chiloe, 289
Hurtado, 113
Hybernation of animals, 102
Hydrochærus capybara, 40, 51
Hydrophobia, 377
Hyla, 30
Hymenophallus, 34
IBIS MELANOPS, 175
Ice, prismatic structure of, 347
Icebergs, 197, 237, 260 to 267
Incas’ bridge, 357, 380, 394
Incrustations on coast rocks, 9, 12
Indian fossil remains, 395
Indians, attacks of, 66, 80, 136
antiquarian relics of, 48, 109
Araucanian, 66, 321
of the Pampas, 105
decrease in numbers of, 108
grave of, 179, 198
Patagonian, 245
perforated stones used by, 285
Valdivian, 321
powers of tracking, 350
ruins of houses of, 380, 384, 392
Infection, 463
Infusoria in dust in the Atlantic, 5
in the sea, 16, 168
in the Pampas, 87, 137
in Patagonia, 180
in white paint, 234
in coral mud, 494
at Ascension, 525
Insects first colonists of St. Paul’s rocks, 10
blown out to sea, 168
of Patagonia, 180, 349
of Tierra del Fuego, 253
of Galapagos, 403, 417, 419
of Keeling Island, 485
of St. Helena, 520
Instincts of birds, 96, 423
Iodine with salt at Iquique, 388
Iquique, 386
Iron, oxide of, on rocks, 12
Irregular troops, 85
Islands, oceanic, volcanic, 8
Antarctic, 263
floating, 283
Low, 429, 497
JACKSON, Col., on frozen snow, 347
Jaguar, habits of, 143
Jajuel, mines of, 276
James Island, 402, 420
Jemmy Button, 218, 233
Juan Fernandez, volcano of, 332
flora of, 418
KANGAROO-HUNTING, 469
Kater’s Peak, 224
Kauri pine, 454
Keeling Island, 481
inside an atoll, 481
flora of, 483
birds of, 485, 486
entomology of, 486
subsidence of, 504
Birgos latro, 512
Kelp, or seaweed, 253, 254
Kendall, Lieut., on a frozen body, 263
Kingfishers, 2, 147
King George’s Sound, 478
Kororadika, 447, 453
LABOURERS, condition of, in Chile, 285
Lagoon-islands, 429, 482, 489, 495
Lagostomus, 130
Lake, brackish, near Rio, 22
with floating islands, 283
formed during earthquake, 395
Lamarck on acquired blindness, 53
Lampyris, 31
Lancaster, Capt., on a sea-tree, 105
Land-shells, 371, 519, 520
Las Minas, 43
Lazo, 46, 160, 201
Leaves, 250
fossil, 477
Leeks in New Zealand, imported, 455
Lemuy Island, 295, 297
Lepus Magellanicus, 203
Lesson, M., on the scissor-beak, 147
on rabbit of the Falklands, 203
Lichen on loose sand, 387
Lichtenstein on ostriches, 96
Lightning storms, 63
tubes, 61
Lima, 389, 392
and San Lorenzo, 360
elevation of a river near, 383
Lime, changed by lava into crystalline rock, 6
Limnæa in brackish water, 2
Lion-ant, 470
Lizard, 102
marine species of, 407
Lizards, transport of, 404
Llama or guanaco, habits of, 175
Locusts, 351
Longevity of species in Mollusca, 87
Lorenzo, San, island of, 393
Low Archipelago, 429, 497
Luciano, story of, 117
Lumb, Mr., 158, 164
Lund, M., on antiquity of man, 382
Lund and Clausen on fossils of Brazil, 138, 183
Luxan, 130, 351
Luxuriant vegetation not necessary to support large animals, 89
Lycosa, 36
Lyell, Mr., on terraces of Coquimbo, 367
on longevity of Mollusca, 87
on change in vegetation, 126
on fossil horses’ teeth, 137
on flocks of butterflies, 168
on extinct mammals and ice-period, 184
on stones twisted by earthquakes, 329
on frozen snow, 347
on distribution of animals, 349
on subsidence in the Pacific, 498
MACCULLOCH on infection, 464
Macquarie river, 471
Macrauchenia, 86, 182
Macrocystis, 253
Madrina, or godmother of a troop of mules, 336
Magdalen channel, 255
Magellan, flora of, 265
H.M.S. _Beagle_ in Straits of, Beagle
Straits of, 229, 244
Port Famine, 246
kelp of, 267
Malays, 482
Malcolmson, Dr., on hail, 122
Maldiva atolls, 496, 505, 507
Maldonado, 41, 47, 61, 65, 145
Mammalia, fossil, 86, 134, 137, 164, 182, 183, 395
Man, antiquity of, 382
body frozen, 264
fossil remains of, 395
fear of, an acquired instinct, 427
extinction of races, 463, 476
Mandetiba, 20
Mandioca or cassava, 23, 27
Mare’s flesh eaten by troops, 107
Mares killed for their hides, 163
Mastodon, 134, 137
Maté pots and Bambillio, 118
Matter, granular, movements in, 104
Mauritius, 513
Maypu river, 338
Megalonyx, 86, 139
Megatherium, 86, 88, 139
Mendoza, 352
climate of, 345
Mercedes on the Rio Negro, 156
Mexico, elevation of, 139
Miasmata, 389, 463
Mice inhabit sterile places, 384
number of, in America, 51
how transported, 307, 404
different on opposite sides of Andes, 348
of the Galapagos, 403
of Ascension, 523
Millepora, 493
Mills for grinding ores, 284
Mimosæ, 26
Mimus, 56, 420, 424
Miners, condition of, 277, 283, 362, 370
Mines, 277, 365, 369
how discovered, 340
Miranda, Commandant, 105
Missionaries at New Zealand, 446
Mitchell, Sir T., on valleys of Australia, 466
Mocking-bird, 56, 420, 424
Molina omits description of certain birds, 289
Molothrus, habits of, 54
Monkeys with prehensile tails, 29
Monte Video, 41, 151, 152
Moresby, Capt., on a great crab, 493
on coral-reefs, 509
Mount Sarmiento, 247, 256
Tarn, 249
Victoria, 47
Mountains, elevation of, 333
Movements in granular matter, 104
Mud, chalk-like, 494
disturbed by earthquake, 328
Mules, 336
Muniz, Signor, on niata cattle, 155
Murray, Mr., on spiders, 170
Mylodon, 86, 140, 164
Myopotamus Coypus, 306
NARBOROUGH ISLAND, 401
Negress with goître, 336
Negro, Rio, 65, 192
lieutenant, 78
Nepean river, 444
New Caledonia, reef of, 499, 501, 507
New Zealand, 444
Niata cattle, 155
Noises from a hill, 385
Noses, ceremony of pressing, 451
Nothura, 47
Notopod, crustacean, 171
Nulliporæ, incrustations like, 9
protecting reefs, 529
OCTOPUS, habits of, 7
Oily coating on sea, 17
Olfersia, 10
Opetiorhynchus, 425
Opuntia, 278
Darwinii, 175
Galapageia, 427
Orange-trees self-sown, 126
Ores, gold, 284
Ornithology of Galapagos, 404, 420
Ornithorhynchus, 470
Osorno, volcano of, 292, 294, 312
Ostrich, habits of, 44, 94
Ostrich’s eggs, 119
Otaheite, 429
Otter, 307
Ova in sea, 17
Oven-bird, 99
Owen, Capt., on a drought in Africa, 141
Professor, on the Capybara, 51
fossil quadrupeds, 86-89, 137
nostrils of the Gallinazo, 195
Owl of Pampas, 73, 132
of Galapagos Islands, 406
Oxyurus, 252, 308
Oysters, gigantic, 180
PAINT, white, 234
Pallas on Siberia, 69
Palm-trees in La Plata, 48
south limit of, 260
in Chile, 272
Palms absent at Galapagos, 400
Pampas, halt at a pulperia on the, 64
number of embedded remains in, 165
southern limit of, 80
changes in, 130
giant thistle of, 125
not quite level, 134, 137, 153
geology of, 136, 165
view of, from the Andes, 348
Pan de Azucar, 47
Papilio feronia, 34, 39
Parana, Rio, 136, 148, 156
River, 133
islands in, 143
Parish, Sir W., on the great drought, 142
Park, Mungo, on eating salt, 116
Parrots, 147, 259
Partridges, 47
Pas, fortresss of New Zealand, 445
Passes in Cordillera, 356
Pasture altered from grazing of cattle, 124
Patagones, 65
Patagonia, geology of, 190, 349
birds of, 93
zoology of, 174, 180, 189
raised beaches, 182
Patagonian bolas, etc, 248, 249
Patagonians, Cape Gregory, 245
Paypote ravine, 383
Peach-trees self-sown, 126
Peat, formation of, 305
Pebbles perforated, 158, 285
transported in roots of trees, 491
Pelagic animals in southern ocean, 172
Penas, glacier in Gulf of, 261
Penguin, habits of, 209
Pepsis, habits of, 36
Pernambuco, reef of, 529
Pernety on hill of ruins, 208
on tame birds, 425
Peru, 386, 396
dry valleys of, 382, 386
Peruvian pottery, 396
Petrels, habits of, 309
Peuquenes, pass of, 341
Phonolite at Fernando Noronha, 11
Phosphorescence of the sea, 172
of land insects and sea animals, 31
of a coralline, 213
Phryniscus, 101
Pine of New Zealand, 454
Plains at foot of Andes in Chile, 282, 337
almost horizontal near St. Fé, 135
Planariæ, terrestrial species of, 28
Plants of the Galapagos, 402, 418, 421
of Keeling island, 483
of St. Helena, 517
Plants, fossil, in Australia, 477
Plata, R., 40
thunderstorms of, 65
Plover, long-legged, 120
Polished rocks, Brazil, 12
Polyborus chimango, 58, 209
Braziliensis, 57
Novæ Zelandiæ, 59
Ponsonby Sound, 229, 233, 239, 241
Porpoises, 40
Port Desire, 97, 174
river of, 112, 178
St. Julian, 180
Famine, 246, 247
Jackson, 459
Portillo Pass, 335 to 352
Porto Praya, 2
Potato, wild, 304
Potrero Seco, 375
Prairies, vegetation of, 124
Prévost, M., on cuckoos, 55
Priestley, Dr., on lightning-tubes, 61
Prisoner, bringing in a, 84
Procellaria gigantea, habits of, 309
Proctotretus, 102
Proteus, blindness of, 53
Protococcus nivalis, 345
Pteroptochos, two species of, 288
species of, 297, 307
Puenta del Inca, 356, 380
Puffinuria Berardii, 309
Puffinus cinereus, 309
Puma, habits of, 144, 193, 287
flesh of, 122
Puna, or short respiration, 344
Punta Alta, Bahia Blanca, 83
Gorda, 136, 380
Huantamó, 317
Pyrophorus luminosus, 32
QUADRUPEDS, fossil, 83, 136, 141, 164, 182
large, do not require luxuriant vegetation, 89
weight of, 91
Quartz of the Ventana, 122
of Tapalguen, 122
of Falkland Island, 207
Quedius, 10
Quellaypo volcano, 312
Quilimari, 362
Quillota, valley of, 270
Quinchao Island, 296
Quintero, 270
Quiriquina Island, 324
Quoy and Gaimard on stinging corals, 493
on coral-reefs, 505
RABBIT, wild, at the Falkland Islands, 203
Rain at Coquimbo, 361, 371, 372
at Rio, 30
effects on vegetation, 361
and earthquakes, 375
in Chile, formerly more abundant, 381
in Peru, 389, 390
Rana Mascariensis, 407
Rat, only aboriginal animal of New Zealand, 455
Rats at Galapagos, 403
at Keeling Island, 485
at Ascension, 523
Rattlesnake, species with allied habit, 100
Red snow, 345
Reduvius, 352
Reef at Pernambuco of sandstone, 529
Reefs of coral, 495 to 512
barrier, 498, 504
fringing, 501
Reeks, Mr., analysis of salt, 68
bones, 164
salt and shells, 394
Remains, human, elevated, 394
Remedies of the Gauchos, 135
Rengger on the horse, 247
Reptiles absent in Tierra del Fuego, 252
at Galapagos, 407
Respiration difficult in Andes, 344
Retrospect, 51
Revolutions at Buenos Ayres, 149
Rhea Darwinii (Avestruz Petise), 110
Rhinoceroses live in desert countries, 92
frozen, 93, 264
Rhynchops nigra, 145, 146
Richardson, Dr., on mice of North America, 404
on frozen soil, 92, 263
on eating fat, 123
on geographical distribution, 139
on polished rocks, 267
Rimsky atoll, 496
Rio de Janeiro, 19 to 39
Botofogo Bay, 19
Plata, 40
Negro, 65, 192
Colorado, 73
Sauce, 112
Salado, 124
S. Cruz, 187
River-bed, arched, 383
River-courses dry in America, 113
Rivers, power of, in wearing channels, 191, 339
Rocks burnished with ferruginous matter, 12
Rodents, number of, in America, 51, 189
fossil species of, 87
Rolor, General, 149
Rosas, General, 73, 116, 149
Rozario, 129, 133, 147, 153
Ruins of Callao, 391
of Indian buildings in Cordillera, 380, 382
SALADO, RIO, 124
Saladillo river, 134
Salinas at the Galapagos Archipelago, 402
in Patagonia, 66, 177
Saline efflorescences, 81
Salt with vegetable food, 116
superficial crust of, 388
with elevated shells, 393
Salt-lakes, 68, 177, 402
San Carlos, 313
Nicolas, 133, 147
Felipe, 276
Pedro, 299
Pedro, forests of, 299
Lorenzo Island, 393
Sand-dunes, 78
Sand, hot from sun’s rays, at Galapagos Archipelago, 403
noise from friction of, 385
Sandstone of New South Wales, 465
reef of, 529
Sandwich Archipelago, no frogs at, 407
Land, 263
Santa Cruz, river of, 187
Santiago, Chile, 282
Sarmiento, Mount, 247, 256
Sauce, Rio, 112, 371
Saurophagus sulphureus, 55
Scarus eating corals, 494
Scelidotherium, 86
Scenery of Andes, 335 to 341
Scissor-beak, habits of, 145, 146
Scissor-tail, 147
Scoresby, Mr., on effects of snow on rocks, 340
Scorpions, cannibals, 165
Scrope, Mr., on earthquakes, 376
Scytalopus, 252, 308
Sea, open, inhabitants of, 172
phosphorescence of, 172
explosions in, 327
Sea-pen, habits of, 104, 212
Seals, number of, 303
Seaweed, growth of, 253
Seeds transported by sea, 418, 484
Serpulæ, 529
Sertularia, protecting reef, 494
Shark killed by Diodon, 14
Shaw, Dr., on lion’s flesh, 122
Sheep, infected, 464
Shelley, lines on Mont Blanc, 178
Shells, land, in great numbers, 368
elevated, 86, 137, 180, 343, 367, 395
tropical forms of, far south, 258
fossil, of Cordillera, 343
decomposition of, with salt, 393
of Galapagos, 416
at St. Helena, 519
Shepherd’s dogs, 159
Shingle-bed of Patagonia, 78, 189
Shongi, New Zealand chief, 447
Siberia compared with Patagonia, 69
zoology of, related to North America, 140
Siberian animals, how preserved in ice, 264
food necessary during their existence, 93, 96
Sierra de la Ventana, 112
Tapalguen, 119
Silicified trees, 354, 376
Silurian formations at Falkland Islands, 207
Silurus, habits of, 144
Sivatherium, 155
Skunks, 83
Slavery, 20, 25, 530
Smelling power of carrion-hawks, 195
Smith, Dr. Andrew, on the support of large quadrupeds, 88
on perforated pebbles, 158
Snake, venomous, 100
Snow, effects of, on rocks, 340
prismatic structure of, 347
red, 345
Snow-line on Cordillera, 259, 358, 347
Socêgo, 23
Society, state of, in La Plata, 42, 165
state of, in Australia, 471, 474
Archipelago, 440
volcanic phenomena at, 505, 510
Soda, nitrate of, 388
sulphate of, 81
Soil, frozen, 92, 263
South American bit, 338
Spawn on surface of sea, 17
Species, distribution of, 136, 391
extinction of, 182
Spiders, habits of, 37 to 39
gossamer, 169
killed by and killing wasps, 37 to 39
on Keeling Island, 485
on St. Paul’s, 10
Spurs of Guaso, 275
Springs, hot, 281
Stevenson, Mr., on growth of seaweed, 253
St. Helena, 517
Jago, C. Verds, 1
unhealthiness of, 390
Paul’s rocks, 8
Fé, 135
Maria, elevated, 333, 338
introduction of spirits into, 439
Louis, Mauritius, 513
Stinging animals, 493
Stones perforated, 158, 285
transported in roots, 490
Storm, 223, 300
in Cordillera, 338, 374
Streams of stones at Falkland Islands, 207
Strongylus, 34
Struthio rhea, 44, 94
Darwinii, 97
Strzelecki, Count, 476
Suadiva atoll, 496
Subsidence of coral-reefs, 495 to 512
of Patagonia, 180
of Cordillera, 343, 355
of Coasts of Chile, 354
cause of distinctness in Tertiary epochs, 367
of coast of Peru, 379
of Keeling Island, 496, 504
of Vanikoro, 504
of coral-reefs great in amount, 509
Sulphate of lime, 69, 180, 386
soda with common salt, 69, 81, 386
soda incrusting the ground, 81
Swainson, Mr., on cuckoos, 54
Sydney, 459
TABANUS, 180
Tahiti (Otaheite), 429
three zones of fertility, 432
Fatahua fall, 436
Christianity in, 437, 441
Tahitian, 438
Talcahuano, 311, 324
Tambillos, Ruinas de, 380
Tameness of birds, 425
Tandeel, pumas at, 287
Tapacolo and Turco, 288
Tapalguen, Sierra, flat hills of quartz, 122
Tarn, Mount, 249
Tasmania, 474
Tattooing, 430, 439
Temperance of the Tahitians, 438
Temperature of Tierra del Fuego and Falkland Islands, 244
of Galapagos, 399, 403
Tercero, Rio, fossils in banks of, 134
Terraces in valleys of Cordillera, 337
of Patagonia, 181, 190
of Coquimbo, 367
Tertiary formations of the Pampas, 86, 136, 165
of Patagonia, 180, 349
in Chile, epochs of, 368
Teru-tero, habits of, 120
Testudo, two species of, 420
Abingdonii, 397
nigra, habits of, 408
Theory of lagoon-islands, 499
Theristicus melanops, 175
Thistle beds, 125, 130, 157
Thunder-storms, 63
Ti, liliaceous plant, 437
Tierra del Fuego, 215 to 257
climate and vegetation of, 250, 257
zoology of, 251
entomology of, 253
Tinamus rufescens, 119
Tinochorus rumicivorus, 98
Toad, habits of, 101
not found in oceanic islands, 407
Torrents in Cordillera, 338, 343
Tortoise, habits of, 408, 420
Toxodon, 86, 134, 137, 164
Transparency of air in Andes, 358
in St. Jago, 4
Transport of boulders, 190, 262
of fragments of rock on banks of the St. Cruz river, 190
of seeds, 418, 484
of stones in roots of trees, 491
Travertin with leaves of trees, Van Diemen’s Land, 479
Tree-ferns, 478
southern limits of, 258
Trees, absence of, in Pampas, 48
time required to rot, 322
silicified, vertical, 376
size of, 377
floating, transport stones, 490
Tres Montes, 301
Trichodesmium, 15
Trigonocephalus, 100
Tristan d’Acunha, 426, 485
Trochilus forficatus, 268
Tropical scenery, 526
Tschudi, M., on subsidence, 393
Tubes, siliceous, formed by lightning, 61
Tucutuco, habits of, 52
fossil species of, 87
Tuff, craters of, 398
infusoria in, 525
Tupungato, volcano of, 347
Turco, El, 288
Turkey buzzard, 60, 192, 303
Turtle, manner of catching, 488
Type of organisation in Galapagos Islands, American, 423
Types of organisation in different countries, constant, 182
Tyrannus savana, 147
ULLOA on hydrophobia, 377
on Indian buildings, 380
Unanùe, Dr., on hydrophobia, 377
Uruguay, Rio, 147, 152
not crossed by the Bizcacha, 131
Uspallata range and pass, 353
VACAS, RIO, 355
Valdivia, 318
forests of, 319, 322
Valley of St. Cruz, how excavated, 190
dry, at Copiapó, 380
Valleys, excavation of, in Chile, 343, 383
of New South Wales, 46
in Cordillera, 343
of Tahiti, 437, 439
Valparaiso, 268, 335
Vampire bat, 22, 23
Van Diemen’s Land, 474
Vanellus cayanus, 120
Vanessa, flocks of, 168
Vanikoro, 500, 504
Vapour from forests, 25
Vegetation of St. Helena, changes of, 519
luxuriant, not necessary to support large animals, 89
on opposite sides of Cordillera, 349
Ventana, Sierra, 71, 112
Verbena melindres, 42
Vilipilli, 315
Villa Vicencio, 353
Villarica volcano, 332
Virgin forest, 25
Virgularia Patagonica, 104
Volcanic bombs, 524
cellular formation of, 524
islands, 8
phenomena, 331
Volcanoes near Chiloe, 294, 300, 312, 332
their presence determined by elevation or subsidence, 496
Vultur aura, 60, 192, 303
WADERS, first colonists of distant islands, 405
Waimate, New Zealand, 452
Waiomio, 456
Walckenaer on spiders, 39
Walleechu tree, 71
Wasps preying on spiders and killed by, 37 to 39
Water-hog (Hydrochærus capybara), 51
Water-serpents, 103
Water sold at Iquique, 386
Water, fresh, floating on salt, 41, 487
Waterhouse, Mr., on Rodents, 51, 485
on the niata ox, 156
on the insects of Tierra del Fuego, 253
of Galapagos, 406, 417
on the terrestrial mammals of Galapagos, 403
Waves caused by fall of ice, 237, 260
from earthquakes, 326, 330
Weather, connection with earthquakes, 375
Weatherboard, N.S. Wales, 465
Weeds in New Zealand, imported, 455
Weight of large quadrupeds, 88
Wellington, Mount, 477
Wells, ebbing and flowing, 487
at Iquique, 388
West Indies, banks of sediment, 468
zoology of, 143
coral-reefs of, 502, 510
Whales, oil from, 17
leaping out of water, 236
White, Mr., on spiders, 36
Whitsunday Island, 495, 497
Wigwam cove, 223, 228
Wigwams of Fuegians, 151, 224
Williams, Rev. Mr., on infectious disorders, 452, 463
Winds, dry, in Tierra del Fuego, 245
at the Cape Verds, 3
on Cordillera, 345
cold, on Cordillera, 384
Winter’s Bark, 250, 299
Wolf at the Falklands, 204
Wollaston Island, 224, 244
Wood, Captain, on the Agouti, 72
Woollya, 239
YAQUIL gold mines, 283
Yeso, Valle del, 341
York Minster, 215, 227, 241, 294
ZONOTRICHIA, 54
Zoological provinces of N. and S. America, 140
Zoology of Galapagos, 403
of Tierra del Fuego, 251
of Chonos Islands, 306
of Keeling Island, 485
of St. Helena, 520
Zoophytes, 104, 211
at Falkland Islands, 210
Zorillo, or skunk, 83
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