Читать книгу: «The Captive in Patagonia», страница 11

The coal was pronounced by Mr. F. to be of good quality for steamboat use. Some pieces which we brought down with us burned very freely, and emitted great heat. Mr. F. thought it a great discovery, and had an inclination to apply to the Chilian government for permission to work the mine. The Buenos Ayrean government, also, I was informed, laid claim to this desolate country. Forest trees, of great size, both of hard and soft wood, appeared to be abundant; and numerous streams of water are convenient, which could readily supply water-power sufficient to manufacture almost any quantity of lumber. A canal might very easily be dug to the straits, or a railroad might be constructed, so as to take the coal, with little trouble, from the mine to the colony. The padre said that an English company, some time ago, started to explore this mine, but, on account of the great depth of snow, gave up the enterprise without inspection.

We returned to the settlement before night, and went to the young officer’s house, where we were bountifully supplied with refreshments, and had a very pleasant, sociable interview, into which the priest entered with due spirit, in respect both to the physical and mental refreshments. Returned to the vessel at dusk. The next morning we landed some goods, and traded with the people. The principal articles purchased were cougar-skins, guanaco-skins, and a few ostrich-skins, sewed together in the form of a cape, the long feathers being extracted, leaving a soft, downy surface. The governor asked permission, which the captain readily granted, for some of the women to visit the vessel and trade on board; and in the afternoon half a dozen or more of them visited us, viewed the vessel, purchased such articles as they wanted, and were then set on shore. We spent here a day or two more very agreeably, trading with the convicts and gunning in the vicinity of the settlement. We had a little sport in trying to capture some sea-lions that were gambolling around the vessel, but were unsuccessful. We saw the skin of one that had been captured by one of the convicts; it was black, covered with a thick coat of coarse hair, or rather bristles. In size they were about equal to the common bull-dog. They rise every now and then to the surface of the water, to blow, like a porpoise. We bade the governor, the young officer and the padre, an affectionate farewell. Their kindness and courtesy had made our visit so agreeable that we were almost sorry to leave them. Not long after our departure, we were shocked to learn that they had met with a sudden and cruel fate. The convicts mutinied, and rose upon the officers. The governor and the priest succeeded in reaching the opposite shore, where they remained three days without food. They decided to return to the settlement, and abide the consequences, whatever they might be. The convicts bound them hand and foot, roasted them alive, burned their bones, and danced over their ashes! We had parted from them expecting never again to see their faces, but had loved to think of them as still inhabiting that bleak shore, turning it, by the magic of their cheerful temper, into a pleasant garden, and warming it in the glow of their kindly hearts. Their end was in such fearful contrast to their lives, and did such violence to our remembrance of their virtues, that the tidings affected us with a sense of personal loss, and made that lonely spot at once among the happiest and the saddest of my experience.

CHAPTER XI

Port Famine – St. Nicholas’ Bay, and its inscriptions – Politeness of the Indians declined – Difficulty of navigating the straits – A post-bag in a bottle – An English steamer, and its humane errand – Exertions of the British government to rescue prisoners in Patagonia – American schooner – Celebration of our safe passage through the straits – Juan Fernandez – News from home – A chapter of accidents – A trip to Lima – Almost an adventure – Arrival at San Francisco – Journey to the mines – A happy meeting.

Our next stopping-place was Port Famine. We were visited, the first evening after we anchored, by the acting governor of the colony and their Irish doctor. The captain and myself went on shore the next day, and made a very agreeable visit to the officers, who treated us with much politeness. We spent two or three days here. We next cast anchor in Saint Nicholas’ Bay, a beautiful harbor. Going on shore, we observed the names of a number of vessels that had preceded us through the straits carved upon trees, with the dates of the several inscriptions; we added our own to the catalogue. There were some deserted bush-huts, probably of Terra-del-Fuegans, who frequently cross over the straits in their canoes, when fishing. A small, shallow stream, of much beauty, flows into the harbor; we rowed up it for some distance, gunning on the banks. From this point, several ineffectual attempts were made to advance; but we were driven back as soon as we cleared Cape Froward, and obliged to retreat to our anchorage. Our vessel was flat, and could not hold on before a stiff breeze, but was inclined, like a crab, to move sideways. The wind having subsided, we made sail late in the afternoon, succeeded in doubling Cape Froward, and dropped anchor in Snug Bay; but, not being pleased with our position, weighed anchor, and continued our course to Fortescue Bay. In passing Cape Holland we saw a large company of Indians. They paraded on the shore with dingy flags flying, and waved skins in the air to invite our approach; but we kept on our way without noticing them; anchored, the next afternoon, in Port Gallant, – a fine harbor, sheltered from all winds. We observed the wreck of some large vessel, and conjectured that it might be that of a French bark of which we were told at Port Famine, which was run ashore and plundered by the Indians, who murdered the crew. We were advised to keep a sharp look-out for Indians here, which we failed not to do; but none made their appearance. As we beat up Crooked Beach, and passed the end of Carlos III. Islands, we discovered a white flag flying on the Terra-del-Fuegan shore. Thinking it might be the signal of some white people who had been shipwrecked, we stood over into the opposite channel, near enough to see Indians and their canoes on the beach, ready to pay us a visit. We hove about, having no desire to make their acquaintance, and anchored, towards night, in the beautiful Borga Bay, opposite.

The most difficult and dangerous feature of navigation in the straits is the encountering of sudden and violent squalls, which strike the vessel without the least warning, and are frequently enough to wreck her in a few minutes even in the hands of the most experienced seamen. We found on shore inscriptions of California-bound vessels, as before. On a branch of a tree overhanging a little stream, we found a bottle suspended, containing papers. This was taken on board, and its contents examined. Three or four vessels, passing through the straits, had left memoranda of their experience, – such as snow-storms, loss of spars, anchors, chains, &c. Captain Morton wrote a humorous account of our voyage, to deposit in this repository of curiosities; and I added a contribution, narrating my capture by the Indians and escape, with a request that, if it should fall into hands bound for the United States or England, it might be published. I little thought that it would bear to my anxious friends the first intelligence of my safety. I left letters at Sea-Lion Island, to be forwarded by the first opportunity, which failed to reach their destination; but this, bottled and suspended from a tree in the wilderness, first fell into the hands of an Indian, who sold it to some passing trader, by whom the soiled writing was deciphered, and kindly forwarded to Smith’s News-room, in Boston, and was published in the “Boston Atlas.”

Our progress was slow, both wind and tide being against us; a strong current set constantly to the eastward. At Swallow Harbor, where we next anchored, we were completely sheltered from the winds, except that which came down from the lofty mountains, called by the sailors “willewaws.” The scenery around is exceedingly wild. There was a beautiful waterfall on the mountain side, the stream probably fed by melting snow. We stopped at many harbors as we passed along, most of them quite secure when entered, but difficult of access. Half-port Bay, at which we touched, is very properly named. It is but a slight indentation in the land, and has a bottom affording very poor holding-ground, covered with kelp; besides, it is very imperfectly sheltered from the wind. While lying here we had a severe gale from the westward, which produced considerable “chop.” Our vessel dragged her anchors, in consequence of their becoming foul with kelp. However, by dropping our kedge-anchor, and loading the chains, we succeeded in arresting our motion before striking the rocks. We had a narrow escape.

At Cape Monday, having cast anchor, we discovered, towards night, a steamer on the Patagonian side, bound westward. Our colors were set, as there were indications of a dark and stormy night, and the steamer turned about and steered for our harbor. This was a pleasant circumstance, as the captain meant, if possible, to get towed through the straits. The vessel anchored near us, and proved to be the Fire Fly, Captain Smith master, built for an English gentleman residing in Talchuana, and now bound to Valparaiso. Captain Smith had his daughter with him, and half a dozen passengers. We visited them, and were very civilly received, invited into the cabin, and introduced to the young lady. On hearing my name, she observed that they found at Borga Bay a paper in a bottle, describing the captivity of a person bearing the same name in Patagonia, with an account of his escape. Captain Morton informed her that I was the writer of that document. “Is it possible?” she exclaimed; “then you are the hero of those adventures!” “I certainly am the unfortunate person there described,” I replied, “though wholly undeserving the name of hero.” She expressed, as did all the passengers, much sympathy, and asked many questions in regard to the treatment received and the life led during my captivity.

Captain Smith suggested that I might be able to give him some information in regard to two Englishmen who had been captured by the savages. He had orders from the Board of Admiralty to make search at any places at which he might touch on the Patagonian coast, and endeavor to learn something of their fate. I told him that I knew something of certain English prisoners in that country, and proceeded to relate what I had learned from the Indians of the murder of Captain Eaton, and the capture and subsequent murder of Messrs. Sims and Douglass; giving the names of the vessel and the prisoners from information communicated by Mr. Hall. Captain Smith produced his letter of instructions, and the names and circumstances perfectly coincided, except that the instructions described the Avon as a ship, while she was styled by Mr. Hall as a brig; an immaterial variation, as all classes of vessels often pass under the general designation of “ships.” My deposition of the facts was written out by two of the passengers, and, having been read to me, I signed it, for transmission to England. The English government, Captain Smith said, had been at great pains and expense to obtain information of those unfortunate young men, who belonged to highly respectable families in England, and to facilitate their escape. Boats had been sent out and buried in the sand, and a great number of handkerchiefs had been printed, containing particular statements of the situation of the buried boats; these had been distributed to vessels bound near the Patagonian coast, to be thrown ashore, in the hope that they might be picked up by Indians, and thus convey the desired information to the prisoners, if they were living. In hearing what the British government had done for its unfortunate subjects, I indulged in some bitter remarks on the supposed neglect of our government in respect to my fate, in leaving me (as I presumed to think) to perish among cannibals, without making any effort to learn my fate, or to rescue me from destruction; remarks of which I had abundant cause to be ashamed, when I learned what had been actually attempted in my behalf.

We could effect no arrangement to be towed by the steamer, as the captain said his stock of fuel was too small to warrant running the risk of being retarded; besides, in case of accident, it would affect his insurance. We spent part of the evening on board the steamer; very soon after returning to our ship, a boat, containing two or three of the passengers, drew up alongside, and a package was put into my hands containing ten dollars, and a letter, signed by the captain and passengers, requesting my acceptance of the gift, as a slight token of their regard and sympathy. While returning my hearty thanks for such a demonstration of kindness to a stranger, I begged to decline the money; but they urged its acceptance, and I reluctantly gratified their wishes.

All the next day we beat along, till we found anchorage at Round Island for the night. On nearing the harbor, a mast was observed on the rocks, lying partly out of the water. I took the boat, early the next morning, to ascertain if it was attached to a wreck; but found that it was loose, and must have drifted there. I knocked off the iron band and cross-trees from the mast-head, and brought them on board our vessel. At Tamer Harbor, our next port, we noticed the wreck of a new vessel, lying well up on the shore, her bottom badly shattered by the rocks on which she had been driven, and both masts gone; it proved to be the “John A. Sutter,” of Rhode Island. On the opposite shore were parts of iron-mills, and other machinery, probably designed for use in California. The shore was strewed with trunks and chests, from the wreck; she had been stripped of everything valuable. The cabin on deck had been cut, and partially burned, by those touching at the harbor. We fished up a bundle of steel rods from the hold, which was partly filled with sand and water. The vessel had been wrecked, as we afterwards ascertained, in a thick fog, on one of the little islands off the western mouth of the straits, and drifted back to the harbor, where we found her. While we were here, the schooner Julius Pringle, of New London, bound to California, came in and anchored. The next day a fine wind bore us to Mercy Harbor, the last anchorage in the Straits of Magellan. The harbor is a good one; and we determined not to leave it till we had a good wind, that would take us well out, far enough to clear the islands lying off the north side. We remained several days waiting for a south-westerly wind, during which delay a pilot-boat, bound for the golden country, came up with us. Our time here was spent very agreeably; our passage through the straits had consumed fifty-one days, and had been effected without accident, though we had witnessed repeated tokens of disaster to some of our predecessors. By way of celebrating our success, we got up a “clam-bake,” minus the clams, in lieu of which we collected and roasted a quantity of muscles, by burying them in the earth, and applying hot stones; they proved excellent eating, and we had “a good time.”

Our mate, who was a sensible young man, of good education, had two foibles; he was a decided grumbler, and, in his conviviality, he was a little too far from total abstinence. He had a particular dislike of a dog on board, purchased at Sandy Point, – a thievish rascal, that always had his nose in anything that was dirty; even the tar and slush-buckets did not escape his attentions. On the evening of the clam-bake, the mate was a little exhilarated; and, having pulled off his pea-jacket preparatory to “turning in” for the night, he seized Bose, mistaking him for the jacket he had just dropped, and threw him into his berth. The dog was not at all displeased with such comfortable quarters, and lay down very nicely with his unexpected bed-fellow. I observed the mate, the next morning, sitting near his berth, yawning; his eyes presently rested on the detested Bose; his feet were in quick motion, and an unceremonious kick turned the dog out as suddenly as he had been turned in. The incident afforded us a hearty laugh at the mate’s expense, who became, for the rest of the voyage, a decided temperance man.

Tired of our detention, we put off in unfavorable weather; the Pringle and the pilot-boat (whose name I have forgotten) getting out with us, but we found it expedient to retreat to our anchorage. A gale soon followed, which prolonged our stay; when its fury was past, we got out and proceeded northward, for Callao. In passing the port of Juan Fernandez, we saw a whaling-ship just putting out to sea; we had designed to stop here for some supplies, but concluded that we could better obtain them at Callao, and held on our course. In our way to Callao we spoke the bark Sarah, Captain Morse, from New Bedford, bound to California with a company of sixty members, of which Captain Morse was president. Our captain told them that he had on board a man from New Bedford, – Captain Bourne, – escaped from captivity among the Indians. Captain Morse replied that he recollected the sloop of war Vandalia was sent down to the straits in search of him. Presently a crowd of persons surrounded the captain of the Sarah, who appeared to be talking earnestly; the bark was soon hove to, and several gentlemen from New Bedford came to us in a boat. They seemed overjoyed to find me alive and well, and made numerous inquiries about my captivity and rescue. They informed me that the Vandalia was despatched by our government to my relief, with orders to punish my captors, if expedient and practicable. From them, also, I gained the first information concerning my ship and shipmates; it seemed that the vessel, with the Hebe and the J. B. Gager, lost their chains and anchors in the straits, and dragged out to sea. The John Allyne, after steering two or three days for Montevideo, to repair and obtain supplies, ascertained that they had water enough aboard to carry them around Cape Horn, the only practicable course, as, without chains and anchors, it was impossible to enter the straits. With the concurrence of all on board, it was decided to attempt the passage round the cape as they were. They encountered a gale off the Horn; and, while lying to, the vessel was knocked on her beam ends. The second mate, Mr. F. Crapo, of New Bedford, was washed overboard, and lost; others were badly bruised, some narrowly escaping the doom of the mate. The cabin partly filled with water; but the schooner righted, with the loss of spars, sails, bulwarks, caboose, and stanchions. She finally weathered the gale, and arrived at Valparaiso, forty-one days after I was left in Patagonia. Here the vessel was repaired, at great cost, and proceeded safely to California. After the relation of this chapter of accidents, I gave them a brief narrative of my adventures among the Patagonians; they returned towards night to their ship. The wind was light, and in the morning we were still near each other; several of the passengers came to us in a boat, bringing with them a quantity of American newspapers. I found in them notices of the disasters that befell my vessel, and the particulars of my capture. The papers were lent to me until we should meet at Callao, – a great favor; their contents were devoured with a high relish, as they were the first American papers I had seen since my capture. Both vessels arrived safely, on the third day afterwards, at Callao.

In the evening after our arrival, I went with the captain and Mr. F. on board the Sarah, and spent an hour very agreeably. The passengers had agreed to take the diligence next morning, and visit the city of Lima, six miles distant, and they invited us to join them. Mr. F. assented, but I declined, preferring, on the whole, to remain on shipboard. The party were on shore betimes the next morning, except Mr. F., who consumed so much time in urging me to go with them, in which Captain Morton joined, that he said the company must have got off; and, unless I would accompany him on horseback, he would have to bear me company in the ship; so, rather than disappoint him, though caring but little personally for the jaunt, I yielded. We went ashore immediately, procured horses, and, having found our friends, rambled over the city, viewing the numerous public buildings by which it is adorned. We were continually beset by shrivelled, cadaverous beggars; they posted themselves at every corner, and besought us, by the Blessed Virgin, to give them alms. The day passed, on the whole, so pleasantly, and there remained so many objects of interest unvisited, we rather regretted that it was not longer. The diligence drove up to the hotel towards evening, to take our friends to the port; we started for our horses, intending to overtake and accompany them in their drive, but missed our way. Some time elapsed before we found ourselves at the gate of the city, opening on the beautiful public road to Callao. As we passed out, we drew up at a respectable-looking ranche; two young Spaniards appeared to be the only occupants. With some little delay, during which one of the two stepped out at a back door, we procured cigars, lighted them, and were moving towards the entrance. Whilst I was paying for them, my companion got the start of me. As I was placing my foot in the stirrup, twenty or thirty mounted horsemen dashed through the gateway, up to the house. They were armed to the teeth; their holsters stuck full of pistols, and I could see shining blades protruding through their garments. They had a desperate, lawless look, unlike that of soldiers or civil officers, and it seemed to me they were no better than they should be. I thought of the delay in giving us our cigars, and it struck me that one of the troop strongly resembled the fellow who stepped out so quietly on our entrance. I sprang into the saddle and gave my horse two or three smart raps, under the stimulus of which he cleared the causeway between the sidewalk and the road at a single bound, and speedily overtook my companion. He had caught a glimpse of the armed cavalcade, and we urged our horses at full speed for about a mile, without looking back. On turning, nothing was seen but a long streak of dust. We then compared notes touching the armed men, and agreed that we were best off at a distance from them. We made the best of our way to Callao, which we reached a little after dark, and found the captain delighted at our safe return, as he had feared some accident, having heard since morning of several robberies lately committed on that road. He had been told that a perfect understanding existed between the robbers and the people of Callao, who gave daily intelligence of persons leaving the port for the city; and that even officers of the government were suspected of conniving at these outrages, if not actually in league with the banditti. As yet, all attempts to ferret them out and break up their combination had failed. Our description of the party we encountered so far agreed with the statements of American residents at Callao, that we were congratulated, and felt disposed to congratulate ourselves, on our safe journey. Neither of us was burdened with plata, and we had no more effective weapons than our jack-knives.

As a national vessel had been ordered to the coast of Patagonia for my relief, I thought it my duty to report myself the next day to the American consul, who was much interested by the recital of my experience. The brig Ann and Julia, Captain McAlister, of New Orleans, came into port a day or two after. Captain McAlister said that the Vandalia came into Rio Janeiro while he was there, shipped more men, and sailed southward in great haste.

Having obtained wood and water and other necessary supplies, we put out to sea once more. I must not omit to record the kindness shown, and the still greater kindness tendered me, by the captain of the Sarah, and all the members of the company. They offered me a free passage and any assistance I might need on arrival in California; but the generosity of Captain Morton had supplied all present needs, and, with all gratitude for their proffered aid, I was not willing to tax their bounty in advance. We stood well to the westward before crossing the line, as only light winds can be expected before reaching from five to seven degrees of north or south latitude, when the trade-winds set in. We had a passage of thirty-seven days from Callao to San Francisco, which was in very good time, considering the sailing qualities of our vessel. We anchored in the beautiful harbor, February 19, 1850, one year and seven days from the date of my leaving New Bedford.

Any description of San Francisco would be altogether superfluous, as her streets, even, are familiar in the states as household words. I found, upon going ashore, letters from those most dear to me, which had long awaited my arrival; also one from a brother then in California. He stated that immediately on hearing of my misfortunes he started for San Francisco to see Commodore Jones, then on that station, and endeavor to induce him to make an effort for my release. On making his business known, the gallant commodore informed him that he had already heard of it, and had despatched the sloop-of-war Levant for my rescue, in the full confidence that the enterprise would be successful. When I was telling the Indian council that flourishing story of my consequence at home, and of the big ships and little ships, the big guns and little guns, that were at my command, ready to avenge any mischief they might do me, I little thought how literally the action of our government, and the spontaneous kindness of Commodore Jones, were verifying my words. The sympathy manifested in my behalf by the gallant commodore deserves more than this passing notice. My brother also left a deposit of funds against my arrival, if it ever occurred, of the probability of which he was in some doubt; also his address, and that of another brother, who was then at the mines. I could learn but little as to the fate of my vessel, or of my effects on board, except that she had duly arrived there, and, after much disagreement and dispute among the company, had been sold for a trifle above the costs of repair on the passage. This operation, I thought, savored little of Yankee shrewdness; since we arrived at a later date, with a vessel of about the same size, age and value, at a time when shipping was in less demand, and sold her for nearly three times the amount. I was happy to meet many acquaintances, who gave me a hearty welcome, and showed me kindness I can never forget.

The schooner J. Pringle, from which we parted on issuing from the Straits of Magellan, arrived in port very soon after us, having touched at Valparaiso. Her captain said that he found the sloop-of-war Vandalia at Valparaiso, to obtain chains and an anchor, as she had lost one anchor and one hundred and thirty fathoms of chain in Possession Bay, and was obliged to double Cape Horn. She was to sail again for Patagonia as soon as the damages were repaired, entering the western mouth of the straits. Captain B. reported my escape, and that I was safe on board the Hopewell, for California, informing the officers that he parted company with me at Mercy Harbor – intelligence that was received with demonstrations of lively pleasure.

Being unable to obtain any information of my personal effects, left on the John Allyne, I left this mushroom city on the third day after my arrival, and took passage in the steamer Senator for Sacramento, at the moderate fare of twenty-five dollars for a passage of a few hours’ duration. I found this city of rag houses full of the indications of its recent and rapid settlement. The streets abounded in mud, a foot or more in depth. Here I recovered my chest, but the trunks containing my clothing were missing. Our company, it appeared, had broken up, and its members were dispersed hither and thither in the mines, every man for himself. My brothers, as near as I could ascertain, were seventy miles distant, possibly removed to the Middle Fork of the American river, and I decided to start on foot. Accordingly, having purchased, at enormous prices, a pair of red flannel blankets, thick boots, a rifle and revolver, and other necessary equipments, I set out for the mines the next morning, in company with two or three persons from the States. The road was exceedingly muddy, but materially improved after passing Sutter’s Fort. We had travelled ten miles, when I found that my feet were so badly blistered that I could proceed no further, and advised my companions to go on without me. My feet were in fact almost completely skinned. After resting at a public-house till the next morning, and encasing my sore feet in a pair of poor, thin shoes, I pursued my journey. I made very slow progress. An ox-team overtook me, the owner of which kept a house, or, more properly speaking, a booth, for boarding and lodging miners, five or six miles ahead. He kindly offered me a ride, which I gladly accepted, and lodged with him for the night.

My journey the next day was less fatiguing; on the day following I arrived at Georgetown, where I found that my brothers had built them a house and spent the winter, but had now left the place, and removed to the Middle Fork. The distance was twenty miles by one route and fifteen by another. The longest road was considered the best, and I followed it, lodging at night in a low grog-shop, denominated an inn. A snow-storm detained me here during the next forenoon. By noon it appeared to have cleared up, and I resumed my march, but had not gone more than a mile before it began snowing again, as fast as before; yet I was resolved not to turn back. The snow, however, fell so fast, and with increasing violence, and the road was so wretched, that this resolution was somewhat shaken. The way led through a forest of lofty pines, the land broken by deep gulches and high hills. As I trudged along through the deep snow, my attention was suddenly attracted to a clump of bushes by the wayside, that appeared to wave to and fro, as if agitated by something more than wind. I felt for my knife and pistol, to make sure they were where they could be made immediately available, placed my hand on the lock of my rifle, and awaited in silence the approach of my unseen visitor. Presently a pair of large, glistening eyes glared at me through an opening in the bushes. Nothing else was discernible; the form, and even the head, of the animal to whom these fierce optics appertained, could not be made out. But their gaze was fixed steadily upon me, and I returned it with equal steadiness, if not equal brilliancy and effect, without once changing my position. I had heard of looking wild animals out of countenance, and determined to try the experiment, before resorting to any other decisive measures. After gazing fixedly at the mysterious occupant of the thicket for a few minutes, he turned and walked leisurely away, giving me only an imperfect view of his figure. So far as I could distinguish the shape, it appeared to be a grisly bear, though not of the largest size. I was glad to get rid of so ugly a customer on such easy terms, and went on my way rejoicing, though it was a weary and desolate one.