Читать книгу: «The Captive in Patagonia», страница 10

The men continued their work, as usual, the next day; but a storm was brewing. On the following morning the Frenchmen marched up to the house, and demanded their wages. They were told by Mr. Hall that he had none of the proprietor’s money, nor any authority to settle with them. Then they would work no longer. Very well, they were told, they might let work alone, but their wages and rations could not be meddled with on demand. So they indulged in another season of idleness and mischief. Their first revenge was taken on old “John,” the horse. On the second day of their mutiny the poor animal was seen to halt; a hamstring was cut. He was very fat, and was probably marked by them for food, in default of fresh provision. At all events, Mr. Hall ordered him, as he was useless, to be so dealt with. The men’s rations were served out, and the rest was laid up in the store-house for future use. “Horse-beef” has a strong and singular flavor. I had become accustomed to such diet among the Patagonians, though never privileged to partake of so fat a specimen as old John.

Not knowing to what height the mutinous spirit of his men might carry them, Mr. Hall wrote a brief statement of his affairs, and an account of my arrival on the island, and enclosed them, together with what money and valuable papers he had, in a tin box, which he buried at night in a guano-heap. That would certainly be removed on Capt. White’s arrival, or by some one else, if he never returned; so that our tale would not be lost, even though we should not survive to tell it. The desperate character of the men, – all but one or two of whom, as we had reason to believe, had left their country for their country’s good, – and the recklessness of their behavior, made our situation rather ticklish. Our fear of the Indians, moreover, was not laid entirely to sleep, though all visible tokens of their neighborhood to us had disappeared. By passing up and crossing the river, they might approach us from the south shore, which was separated from the island by a channel not more than half as broad as that on the opposite side. The bank, to be sure, was steep and muddy, involving the risk that they would be hopelessly bemired in attempting to land; but this was a weak security against them, if they were resolute enough to make the effort. Nothing occurred for several days to break the monotony of life. No work was done; the men received their allowances twice a week, spending their time in wandering over the island. The large boat needed repairs, but they rendered no aid. We took advantage of high water, rove tackles, and, by the help of rollers, drew it up high and dry on the land. When it was finished, – through fear that the men might seize it and make off to some place northward, thus depriving us of our only means of escape, if our provisions should be exhausted before Capt. White’s return, – it was turned over, and the sails and oars were secured, as far as possible, from depredation.

Old John was devoured, to the partial relief of the company; but some were still badly affected with scurvy. Yet we were afraid to go any distance in search of fresh provisions, on account of the risk of finding Indians about. The carcass of a guanaco, just killed by the dogs, was picked up in time to afford a sensible alleviation of suffering, and to replenish our rapidly wasting stock of provisions. Indians without, discontent and mutiny within, and the possibility of famine, together, would have made the island anything but a paradise to one who had not so lately escaped the purgatorial pains of a Patagonian captivity. The first of these disagreeables, however, began to be less vividly felt. We got tired of sweeping the horizon with our glass in search of the smoke of their camp-fires, or other appearances suggesting their vicinity, and gradually relaxed our vigilance. Bose was released from his sentry duties, and suffered to exchange such unwilling service for the society of his friends the pigs. But we still took the axe into the house by night, and kept our guns loaded. The boat had to be launched once more, to go up the creek for water. When it was unladed, we got the aid of a Spaniard and Frenchman in drawing it on land, to prevent the rascals from stealing it, by telling them that it needed painting, which was true enough. The seine was next got out, to see if some fish could not be had for the improvement of our diet; but we got what is vulgarly termed “fisherman’s luck,” and spread the ineffectual net on the gravelly beach to dry. Grown desperate, at last, we decided that, Indians or no Indians, we must have fresh provisions, if any were to be had, and manned the whale-boat for an expedition to the continent. We landed on the south shore, and succeeded in discovering and bringing down a solitary guanaco. The game was dressed, and we returned to our home in triumph. The two following days were chiefly spent in hunting, unsuccessfully.

In the afternoon of the second day, having nothing else to pass away the hours, I commenced repairing the lighter, but had not been long at work before Mr. Hall came down, with a smile. “Look out to sea!” he exclaimed; “Captain White is coming.” I looked as directed, and saw distinctly two sail approaching. A thrill of joy shot through me; I thought no more of work that day. An examination through the glass made them out to be a ship and a fore-and-aft schooner. Could it be any one else than Captain White? The island was not frequented by vessels except for guano; but it seemed very strange to see a schooner, as a vessel of that rig was not adapted to such a service. Mr. Hall began to think it might be some of General Rosas’ vessels despatched to drive away people engaged in taking guano on the Patagonian coast. It had been reported, some time before, that he designed doing so. He heard the rumor a few months previous at Montevideo; and also another, that the Chilian government claimed the country, and were determined to hold it.

The little schooner led the way, considerably in advance of the ship. As the vessels approached nearer, they presented a decidedly Yankee look. We watched them with intense interest, as they passed the shoals, and came up with a favorable breeze, under a press of sail. Soon they entered the river’s mouth. On passing the north point the schooner stood up, keeping the north shore, and cast anchor. It was evident they were not acquainted with the navigation, as there is a large shoal running from the upper end of the island nearly to the mouth of the river, and they had sailed within it. On discovering the error, she attempted to keep off, but, in so doing, struck the lower end of the shoal. Mr. Hall manned the boat, and boarded the schooner. She proved to be the Washington, tender to the ship Hudson, Captain Clift, of Mystic, Connecticut, – a whaling vessel, just from the Falkland Islands. Mr. Hall promised to go on board again during the following forenoon, and pilot the vessel into the channel.

I went with him for this purpose; and, as it was calm, the anchor was hove aweigh, and, with the boat ahead, we towed the schooner across the shoal, which at low water is plainly to be seen, but now, at flood tide, had plenty of water. After getting into the right position, the anchor was dropped, and we spent the day on board very pleasantly. The weather held moderate till afternoon. The ship yet lay off the mouth of the harbor, and made slow progress upward. The schooner, the day before, being so far ahead, had only daylight and wind enough to get in; and the ship, finding she would be benighted, as the wind sank with the sun, hauled on and off during the night, and then lay with scarcely wind enough to fill the sails. A smart breeze, however, sprung up in the afternoon, and she came gallantly into port, only repeating the mistake made by the schooner between the channels; but got off at night with the tide, and, after some delay, anchored securely in sufficient depth of water. As she intended making some stay in port, she was subsequently taken further up to the proper anchorage, and was moored on the 5th of October, having come in on the 4th.

Captain Clift had been informed by the mate, who had been ashore, and by Mr. Hall, of my misfortunes and adventures among the Patagonians, and on the following day sent a message inviting me on board his vessel. He received me very cordially, and insisted that I should make his ship my home as long as it should suit my convenience to do so. I accepted his kind offer, first going on shore, and communicating it to my liberal benefactor, Mr. Hall. He at once assented that it would undoubtedly be pleasanter to be with my countrymen. I could not leave him, however, without endeavoring to express my earnest gratitude for my rescue from a captivity worse almost than death, and for the kindly sympathy and generous hospitality that he had exercised for two months. In my destitute condition I had nothing but thanks to give, and I fervently hoped he might never be in a situation to need the like kindness from others; but he was assured, that whenever or however it might be possible to show my gratitude in a more substantial manner, it would be my happiness to do so. He begged me to give myself no trouble on that score, insisted on my retaining the articles of clothing with which he had supplied me, hoped I would come often and see him while the vessels continued there, and I bade this noble specimen of the true-hearted Englishman a tearful good-by.

CHAPTER X

A Christian ship-master – Cruise for whales, and for a California-bound vessel – An outlandish craft – An American vessel – Passage secured for California – Tempestuous passage through the Straits of Magellan – Warlike demonstrations, with an inglorious issue – Chilian penal settlement – Pleasing reception – Extensive coal-mine – Sea-lions – Mutiny of the convicts, and awful fate of the governor and chaplain.

Captain Clift cordially welcomed me to his ship, and immediately tendered me whatever I might need for personal comfort. I declined availing myself of his generosity, assuring him that I could be comfortable with present supplies; but he insisted on replenishing my wardrobe, silencing all objections by the remark that I plainly needed the articles, and that it was a part of our duty on earth to give to the needy. Captain Clift was a Christian in precept and example. He had daily prayer on board his ship, and made his religion an inseparable part of himself; something more than a profession, that did not expend itself in words, but found expression in acts of kindness to all within his reach. He had on board a poor sick Irish lad, who was taken into the cabin, and nursed with all the care that circumstances admitted. Had poor Mike been his own son, he could not have done more for him. Such acts, incapable of being traced to any sordid or selfish motive, sprung spontaneously from his capacious heart, full to overflowing with the milk of human kindness. As the ship had been at the Falkland Islands for several months, where they lived exclusively upon fresh meat, it seemed impossible that there should be a case of scurvy on board; but the captain remarked that the Patagonian coast was the worst he ever visited in this respect.

The crew, under direction of the mate, a brother of the captain, were busy in landing cattle, swine, empty casks and other articles, to make room on board for trying out whales, in case they captured any more, for which the schooner was getting ready to cruise up and down the coast. The mate went in the tender on her first trip out; but she returned, in three or four days, unsuccessful. A second cruise was undertaken, but in a week’s absence only one whale was discovered, and this they failed to secure. A third and still longer trip was equally unsuccessful, and they returned not a little discouraged. During this time I had repeatedly exchanged visits with Mr. Hall, and felt quite comfortable in my new quarters; but suffered the misery of idleness, and of impatience at my detention, even among such generous and considerate friends. Partially to relieve the tedium of inactivity, in compliance with an urgent request for some useful employment, I was allowed to repair the ship’s spanker. But I determined that, on the next cruise of the tender, I would take a berth, in the hope of falling in with some vessel bound around Cape Horn, or to Montevideo, Rio Janeiro, Pernambuco, or any other port from which it might be possible to secure a passage to California, – a land I was resolved at least to see, after having got so far on my way, though so inauspiciously.

The vessel was soon ready to sail. The evening before our departure Mr. Hall visited me, and also came in the morning, before we were off; – the whole-souled fellow! I shall always pray for his happiness. Captain Clift added to his other kindnesses by pressing upon me various articles of comfort for the voyage, with a nice clothes-bag to contain them all. I parted from them, heartily praying a continuance of God’s blessing on them both; adding, however, that it was very likely they would see me turning up among them, like a bad penny, on the return of the schooner. In truth, my natural buoyancy had so far died out, that but faint hopes of a successful termination of the voyage, begun, so long before, under auspices apparently cheering, now encouraged me. We hove up the anchor, hoisted sail, and steered out of the harbor and down the coast, running off and standing in on the land, in hope to fall in with whales. On the fourth day out, we discovered a sail coming down the coast towards us. It proved to be an outlandish-looking craft, from her rig appearing to be a Portuguese schooner. We sailed towards her with a light breeze, lowered our boat, and went alongside the foreigner. She had on board a large crew of cut-throat looking fellows, loitering about. We were not asked on board, but remained in the boat talking with them through one of our men, a Portuguese. They said they were from some place, the name of which I have now quite forgotten, up the Straits of Gibraltar, and were bound through the Straits of Magellan to California. I suggested to Mr. Clift the propriety of getting on board, and going to Port Famine or to California. He said I could do as I pleased; but that, for his own part, he would feel hardly willing to trust himself among them, in which opinion I concurred.

Our Portuguese hand went on board, and talked with the captain of my adventures among the Indians, and of the occupation, &c., of our schooner. He was directed to inquire for whales, and brought us answer that several had been seen along the coast, some distance to the northward. While this conversation was going on, a tall, hairy fellow came up from the cabin, encased in a dark-colored cloak having a red collar, and stripes of the same hue running about the edge; a hood, or cap, of divers gaudy colors, lay back on his shoulders, and another, gayly and profusely variegated in hue, was perched upon his head. Altogether he was a comical-looking piece of human nature. He took a look at our vessel through the glass. In answer to an inquiry through our interpreter, we learned that they had passed, the day before, an American schooner bound that way, which could not be far off. One of the sailors passed some liquor to us over the side of the vessel; it was sad stuff, and I could only out of compliment go through with the form of drinking. While this little courtesy was enacting, our Esau over-head was scanning the horizon with his glass, and at length exclaimed that he saw the vessel; we turned, and distinctly perceived a sail making towards us.

We soon returned to the tender, and stood in for the shore, in order to cut off the approaching stranger; anxious to meet her, I went aloft to the mast-head, where the view was better, and kept the mate advised of her course. When near enough to be watched from the deck, I came down, as it was impossible she could escape us. Mr. Clift offered to board her, and I accordingly picked up my things, ready for contingencies; the breeze was light, and the strange schooner approached slowly. We stood in till it was judged we were in her track, and then hove to, with the stars and stripes flying at the main gaff, as a signal that we wished to speak her. Presently the same beautiful flag was run up her main peak; on she came, – our boat was lowered, Mr. Clift jumped in with me, and we were rowed alongside, the schooner rounding to, and laying by for us to come on board. Captain Clift announced himself to the master of the schooner, who came to the side to receive us, and introduced me. He courteously invited us on board, jocosely remarking that we had a good many captains for one vessel, took us into the cabin, and treated us with the greatest civility.

The schooner proved to be the Hopewell, of New Orleans, Captain Morton, from Antigua, and bound to San Francisco, through the Straits of Magellan. There were two passengers aboard, an American gentleman, and a Portuguese, taken aboard at Bahia. At Captain Morton’s request, I gave a sketch of my expedition and sojourn among the cannibals. “You were bound to California when you embarked?” he inquired, when I had concluded; “I am bound there, and, if you wish to finish your voyage, you can go with me.” My mind was relieved; I almost feared to ask a passage, but my wish had been anticipated, – my request generously granted before it was uttered. I gratefully accepted his offer; remarking that unless my vessel had arrived in safety, of which I had no assurance, I should find myself as destitute on landing as at that moment; but that he could leave me at Port Famine, if I became troublesome. The “John Allyne” I supposed to have been lost soon after my capture; I had heard nothing of her since. He desired me to give myself no trouble in that matter on his account, and exerted himself to entertain us. As we were opposite the river Gallegos, and could easily run down to Cape Virgin during the night, Captain Morton felt in no hurry; and the whaling schooner was very well posted for observation on the coast, so that our men were well contented, and we had a very pleasant social interview of two or three hours. Finally, after partaking of some refreshments, I bade adieu to my excellent friend Mr. Clift, and the two vessels parted, to pursue their different courses.

During the night, we worked our way down to the straits. I sat up quite late with the captain; and, when at length I retired to my state-room, fell soundly asleep. The next morning we were nearly opposite Cape Virgin, the north point of the entrance to the straits. We were rather wide off the cape; the wind was ahead, and a good strong breeze; we beat in at last, and anchored under Point Dungeness. The Portuguese schooner was in the offing; she worked up before night, and anchored a little to the windward of us. We lay at anchor through the night; the next morning we both got under way, with a light breeze, which lasted, however, but a little while, when the wind came round ahead. As we were passing Point Dungeness, – it was not fairly daylight, and I had not yet risen, – Mr. F., one of the passengers, cried out that the shore opposite was lined with Indians. I hurried on deck, to get a peep at them; upon looking, there appeared a great school of seals on the beach; they seemed to be standing up, and walking on their hind feet, so as to have, in the dusk, very much the appearance of Indians. With some difficulty we worked up to near the point where the John Allyne lay when I made my unlucky visit on shore, and came to anchor; so that I was brought back again almost to the starting-point of this “eventful history,” – a revolution suggestive of many reflections.

The next day there came a heavy gale; the Portuguese schooner had anchored on the preceding night, in the bight of Possession Bay, further down. We lay heavily pitching at our anchors till afternoon, when Captain Morton determined to get his anchors, if possible, and run down to where the foreign schooner lay, thinking it might prove a safe anchorage. After much trouble in raising the anchors, we ran back, keeping the lead going, and running at a furious rate, under bare poles, excepting the head of the jib. The whole bay was a sheet of surf and foam. I began to think we had not much bettered our condition by removing. We anchored abreast of our Portuguese friend, but still dragged the anchors. We finally brought up by securing some iron castings we had on board to the kedge; the chain-cable was reeved through them, – they were let down ten or fifteen feet from the anchor. The small kedge thus fixed, with the weight attached to the chain, ploughed to the bottom, instead of being lifted out by the strain on the cable, thereby performing the service of one many times its weight. Our little vessel rode out the gale, which was of short duration; as the sun went down the wind subsided. We had hoisted a small sail to the main-mast, in shape resembling a leg of mutton, to make the vessel ride head to the wind, instead of lying in the trough of the sea. The tide, running at the time strongly against the wind, caused us to lie nearly broadside to the force of the gale; but this temporary sail, supplying the place of after-sail, caused the craft to lie more steadily. Just before sunset we got our anchors at the bow, and were under close-reefed sail, beating back to the place we left in the forenoon, near the first narrows. We arrived there in the evening, and again anchored; the next morning, with a light breeze from the eastward, we stood into the narrows, in company with the Portuguese schooner. Soon after we had passed through the narrows, the wind came ahead; we beat along, and anchored under Cape Gregory, a fine anchorage.

Towards evening we discovered something sitting upon a high, abrupt sand-cliff, on the bordering shore; we could perceive, by an occasional movement, that it was a living creature. The object was of considerable interest, and was closely inspected with the glass; at last it was pronounced to be an Indian. The shore was closely scanned in all directions, to ascertain whether there were more in the vicinity; none were in sight, and we concluded to pay the solitary a visit; but, as hundreds might be concealed in the neighborhood, we armed to the teeth. Old flint-lock muskets, rusty with long idleness, were dragged from their hiding-places, and treated to a dose of oil, to limber their aged joints; new flints were fitted to the locks, and everything put in good order. The guns were heavily charged with powder and shot; pistols and cutlasses, dirks and bowie-knives, were all in readiness, and the boat was alongside, manned by the sailors ready to receive us. Mr. F., the first and second mates, and myself, pushed off for the shore. We landed at some distance from the object of our visit, that we might have a better opportunity to survey the country around. Before the boat fairly felt the bottom, the second mate jumped into the water, and ran along the beach, until he could see that the supposed Indian was a large bird. He raised his gun, and fired; the bird came tumbling down the precipice, and, on running up, we found it to be a large condor. The Dutchman had broken his wing. We caught our prize and took it on board the vessel, and were heartily laughed at for our pains by the captain, who had been viewing the onslaught through the glass. Mr. F. was teased by him many days for the intrepidity of his charge on the poor bird, rushing to the attack with a drawn sword in one hand, and a cocked pistol in the other. We all felt a little crest-fallen, I must admit, after having made such formidable preparations for an Indian fight, to return with so inglorious a prize; but, as none of my former tormentors could reasonably be supposed to have strayed to this part of the country, and I had no animosities towards other tribes to be gratified, I felt, on the whole, very well satisfied with the result. We measured the bird; but, as I was not “takin’ notes” at the time, it is now impossible to give its dimensions; it was very large.

The next day we commenced beating under a head-wind through the second narrows; but, when partially through, it commenced blowing so severely that we were compelled to return to our anchorage at Cape Gregory. The following day we double-reefed the sails, beat through the narrows, and anchored in Oazy Harbor. Here we went on shore, and discovered traces of Indians; the smoke of their fires was seen to the westward. We roamed about on shore for some hours, but found nothing to interest us; it was all exceeding bare and monotonous. The breeze continuing fresh ahead, we remained one day in the harbor, spending our leisure in shooting sea-fowls, which were very abundant. Once more we got under way, and anchored off the mouth of Pecket Harbor until daylight, then stood into Royal Road, and passed to the westward of Elizabeth Island into Catalina Bay.

Before passing Sandy Point, we saw several horses, and a Chilian flag flying. We hauled in and came to anchor, as we wished to procure wood and water. A large gathering of Spaniards from the settlement came to the shore. Among them I noticed a little man, handsomely dressed, with a beautiful cloak, and a cap having a wide gilt band; he appeared to be about fifty years old. A young man, of perhaps thirty, of fine appearance, accompanied him. He was dressed in military costume, blue trousers with white side-stripe, blue coat with standing collar, and cloth cap with a gilt band. These important personages were no less than the governor and his highest officer. They were walking along in conversation, and came down to meet us as we landed, shaking hands, and asking us where we were from, whither bound, and if we stood in need of anything. Capt. Morton could understand the Spanish, when spoken, easier than he could speak it himself. I therefore acted as spokesman, and replied that we wanted wood and water. After learning the quantity needed, his excellency gave his men orders to cut and split the wood, and draw it to the shore; and said that if we would send our water-casks ashore, his men should fill them. In due time both orders were executed, and we received a good supply of these necessary stores. We were then invited to the governor’s house. His table was sumptuously spread, and we were entertained in the most handsome style. He was a kind, gentlemanly man, and refused to receive a penny for the supplies he furnished us, but accepted some presents from the captain. The young officer also treated us very politely, and hospitably entertained us in his house. Our vessel remained here about a week. Every day the governor sent us a large bucket of sweet milk, and sometimes fresh beef. The place was a Chilian penal settlement. He was about removing the colony from Port Famine here, on account of the superiority of the soil. The young soldier and the Catholic padre were his principal officers. A part of the colony yet remained at Port Famine.

One day, while walking out with the governor to look at the settlement, he asked if we were acquainted with coal. I replied, pointing to Mr. F., that he had been an engineer on several steamboats, and ought to be able to judge of carbon, as they called it. He sent his men along the little brook to look for some. They soon returned with several small specimens, which Mr. F. pronounced good coal. The governor said that the little brook led up to a large coal-mine, six or seven miles back, and he requested us to go and look at it. The next day he renewed the proposal, offered us horses and a man to clear the way, and said the padre would accompany us. I hesitated a little, suggesting that we might fall in with Indians. But he said, and the priest concurred, that there was no danger on that score, and we consented to go. We accordingly went on shore the following morning, and found horses in readiness for us. Mr. F., the padre and myself, started off, accompanied by a Spaniard on foot, armed with an axe, to clear away the obstructions in our path. After leaving the settlement, we plunged into a thick wood, on low, marshy ground, and followed a blind trail, leading now over the trunk of a large tree, which our horses leaped with difficulty, now across a quagmire, which had to be filled with bushes to furnish a foothold, and again was obstructed by an overhanging tree, or pendent branch, which arrested our progress till it could be cut away. In this manner we worked a passage for about a mile, when we emerged into an upland region free from underbrush. By this time, the thought recurred that it was rather imprudent travelling unarmed in that miserable country, infested by savage men and wild beasts; but I was in for it, and jogged along with dogged resolution. The face of the country became more uneven as we proceeded, tall trees were numerous, and we caught an occasional glimpse of snow on the hills. We soon reached a height at which there was abundance of snow. Our guide strode in advance, his Spanish axe swung upon his shoulder, calmly whistling a tune to himself. As we were descending a steep place, my horse suddenly stopped, and bent his head and legs to the ground, – the saddle slipped over his head, and his rider instantly found himself about thirty feet below, his head and hands stuck fast in the snow, and his heels elevated high in air. A little smart exertion extricated me from my uncomfortable position. Our guide came to me, uttering maledictions on the stumbling beast. Clambering with me back to where the horse stood, he beat him soundly, and again girt the saddle so tightly that I almost feared it would sever his body. I remonstrated, but he replied that it was a bad horse, and was playing old tricks. At the bottom of the declivity I remounted; we travelled through the snow as far as we could ride, then left our horses and continued our way on foot. The snow was very deep, in places frozen hard enough to bear our weight. A walk of a mile or more brought us, with some fatigue, to the coal-mine. But there was such a depth of snow that we could see only here and there a projection of coal in the banks of the brook which runs down from the mountains to the settlement.