Sometimes a man may approach it, within the distance of a few yards,-- even when there is no cover to shelter him,--by walking gently up to it.

Of all the other quadrupeds of the Pampas,--and these plains are its favourite _habitat_,--the _cervus campestris_ most dreads the horseman:--since its enemy always appears in that guise; and it has learnt the destructive power of both lazo and bolas, by having witnessed their effects upon its comrades. The hunter dismounted has no terrors for it; and if he will only keep lazo and bolas out of sight,--for these it can distinguish, as our crow does the gun,--he may get near enough to fling either one or the other with a fatal precision.

The "agouti" (_cavia Patagonica_) frequently furnishes the Patagonian with a meal. This species is a true denizen of the desert plains of Patagonia; and forms one of the characteristic features of their landscape. I need not describe its generic characters; and specifically it has been long known as the "Patagonian cavy." Its habits differ very little from the other South-American animals of this rodent genus,-- except that, unlike the great capivara, it does not affect to dwell near the water. It is altogether a denizen of dry plains, in which it burrows, and upon which it may be seen browsing, or hopping at intervals from one point to another, like a gigantic rabbit or hare. In fact, the cavies appear to be the South-American representatives of the hare family,--taking their place upon all occasions; and, though of many different species,--according to climate, soil, and other circ.u.mstances,--yet agreeing with the hares in most of their characteristic habits. So much do some of the species a.s.similate to these last, that colonial sportsmen are accustomed to give them the Old-World appellation of the celebrated swift-footed rodent. The Patagonian cavies are much larger than English hares,--one of them will weigh twenty-five pounds,--but, in other respects, there is a great deal of resemblance. On a fine evening, three or four cavies may be seen squatted near each other, or hopping about over the plains, one following the other in a direct line, as if they were all proceeding on the same errand! Just such a habit is frequently observed among hares and rabbits in a field of young corn or fallow.

The Patagonian boys and women often employ themselves in seeking out the ostriches' nests, and robbing them of their eggs,--which last they find good eating. In the nests of the smaller species which we have already stated to be the most common in the Patagonian country,--they are not rewarded so liberally for their trouble. Only from sixteen to twenty eggs are hatched by the _rhea Darwinii_ and about twenty-five to thirty by the _rhea Americana_. It will be seen, that this is far below the number obtained from the nest of the African ostrich (_struthio camelus_),--in which as many as sixty or seventy eggs are frequently found. It would appear, therefore, that the greater the size of the bird, belonging to this genus the greater the number of its brood. Both the American rheas follow the peculiar habit of the true ostrich: that is, several hens deposit their eggs in the same nest; and the male bird a.s.sists in the process of incubation. Indeed, in almost every respect-- except size and general colour of plumage--the American and African ostriches resemble each other very closely; and there is no reason in the world why a pedantic compiler should have bestowed upon them distinct generic names. Both are true _camel birds_: both alike the offspring, as they are the ornament, of the desert land.

Another occupation in which the Patagonian engages--and which sometimes rewards him with a meal--is the snaring of the Pampas partridge (_nothuria major_). This is usually the employment of the more youthful giants; and is performed both on foot and on horseback. A small species of partridge is taken on foot; but the larger kind can be snared best from the back of a horse. The mode is not altogether peculiar to Patagonia: since it is also practised in other parts of America,--both north and south,--and the bustard is similarly captured upon the _karoos_ of Africa. During the noon hours of the day, the performance takes place: that is, when the sun no longer casts a shadow. The locality of the bird being first ascertained, the fowler approaches it, as near as it will allow. He then commences riding round, and round, and round,--being all the while watched by the _foolish_ bird, that, in constantly turning its head, appears to grow giddy, and loses all dread of danger. The Indian each moment keeps lessening his circle; or, in other words, approaches by a spiral line, continually closing upon its centre. His only weapon is a long light reed,--something like the common kind of cane fishing-rod, seen in the hands of rustic youth in our own country. On the end of this reed he has adjusted a stiff snare; the noose of which is made from the epidermis of an ostrich plume, or a piece of the split quill; and which, being both stiff and elastic, serves admirably for the purpose for which it is designed.

Having at length arrived within a proper distance to reach the beguiled bird, the boy softly stops his horse, bends gently sidewards, and, adroitly pa.s.sing his noose over the neck of the partridge, jerks the silly creature into the air. In this way an Indian boy will capture a dozen of these birds in a few hours; and might obtain far more, if the sun would only stay all day in the zenith. But as the bright orb sinks westward, the elongated shadow of the horseman pa.s.ses over the partridge before the latter is within reach of the snare; and this alarming the creature, causes it to take flight.

The Patagonian builds no house; nor does he remain long in one place at a time. The sterile soil upon which he dwells requires him to lead a nomade life; pa.s.sing from place to place in search of game. A tent is therefore his home; and this is of the simplest kind: the tent-cloth consisting of a number of guanaco skins st.i.tched together, and the poles being such as he can obtain from the nearest tract of thicket or _chapparal_. The poles are set bow-fashion in the ground, and over these the skin covering is spread,--one of the bent poles being left uncovered, to serve as a doorway. Most of the Patagonian's time is occupied in procuring game: which, as we have seen, is his sole sustenance; and when he has any leisure moments, they are given to the care of his horse, or to the making or repairing his weapons for the chase. Above all, the bolas are his especial pride, and ever present with him. When not in actual use, they are suspended from his girdle, or tied sash-like around his waist,--the b.a.l.l.s dangling down like a pair of ta.s.sels.

Only during his hours of sleep, is this national weapon ever out of the hands of the Patagonian giant. Had the wonderful giant of our nurseries been provided with such a sling, it is probable that little Jack would have found in him an adversary more difficult to subdue!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE FUEGIAN DWARFS.

The great continent of South America, tapering like a tongue to the southward, ends abruptly on the Straits of Magellan. These straits may be regarded as a sort of natural ca.n.a.l, connecting the Atlantic with the Pacific Ocean, winding between high rocky sh.o.r.es, and indented with numerous bays and inlets. Though the water is of great depth, the Straits themselves are so narrow that a ship pa.s.sing through need never lose sight of land on either side; and in many places a sh.e.l.l, projected from an ordinary howitzer, would pitch clear across them from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e! The country extending northward from these straits is, as already seen, called _Patagonia_; that which lies on their southern side is the famed "land of fire," _Tierra del Fuego_.

The ca.n.a.l, or channel, of the Straits of Magellan does not run in a direct line from the Atlantic to the Pacific. On the contrary, a ship entering from the former, instead of pa.s.sing due west, must first run in a south-west direction,--rather more south than west. This course will continue, until the ship is about halfway between the two oceans. She will then head almost at a right angle to her former course; and keep this direction--which is nearly due north-west--until she emerges into the Pacific.

It will thus be seen, that the Straits form an angle near their middle; and the point of land which projects into the vertex of this angle, and known to navigators as Cape Forward, is the most southern land of the American _continent_. Of course this is not meant to apply to the most southern point of American land,--since Tierra del Fuego must be considered as part of South America. The far-famed "Cape Horn" is the part of America nearest to the South Pole; and this is a promontory on one of the small elevated islands lying off the southern coast of Tierra del Fuego itself. Tierra del Fuego was for a long time regarded as a single island; though, even in the voyage of Magellan, several large inlets, that resembled channels, were observed running into the land; and it was suspected by that navigator, that these inlets might be pa.s.sages leading through to the ocean. Later surveys have proved that the conjectures of the Spano-Portuguese voyager were well founded; and it is now known that instead of a single island, the country called Tierra del Fuego is a congeries of many islands, of different shapes and sizes,--separated from one another by deep and narrow channels, or arms of the sea, with an endless ramification of sounds and inlets. In the western part--and occupying more than three fourths of their whole territory--these close-lying islands are nothing else than mountains,-- several of them rising five thousand feet above the level of the water; and stepping directly down to it, without any foothills intervening!

Some of them have their lower declivities covered with sombre forests; while, farther up, nothing appears but the bare brown rocks, varied with blue glaciers, or mottled with ma.s.ses of snow. The more elevated peaks are covered with snow that never melts; since their summits rise considerably above the snow-line of this cold region.

These mountain islands of Tierra del Fuego continue on to Cape Horn, and eastward to the Straits of Le Maire, and the bleak islet of Staaten Land. They may, in fact, be considered as the continuation of the great chain of the Andes, if we regard the intersecting channels--including that of Magellan itself--as mere clefts or ravines, the bottoms of which, lying below the level of the sea, have been filled with sea-water. Indeed, we may rationally take this view of the case: since these channels bear a very great resemblance to the stupendous ravines termed "barrancas" and "quebradas," which intersect the Cordilleras of the Andes in other parts of South America,--as also in the northern division of the American continent.

Regarding the Straits of Magellan, then, and the other channels of Tierra del Fuego, as great _water-barrancas_, we may consider the Andes as terminating at Cape Horn itself, or rather at Staaten Land: since that island is a still more distant extension of this, the longest chain of mountains on the globe.

Another point may be here adduced, in proof of the rationality of this theory. The western, or mountainous part of Tierra del Fuego bears a strong resemblance to the western section of the continent,--that is, the part occupied by the Andes. For a considerable distance to the north of the Magellan Straits, nearly one half of the continental land is of a mountainous character. It is also indented by numerous sounds and inlets, resembling those of Tierra del Fuego; while the mountains that hang over these deep-water ravines are either timbered, or bare of trees and snow-covered, exhibiting glacier valleys, like those farther south. The whole physical character is similar; and, what is a still more singular fact, we find that in the western, or mountainous part of Patagonia, there are no true Patagonians; but that there, the water-Indians, or Fuegians, frequent the creeks and inlets.

Again, upon the east,--or rather north-east of Tierra del Fuego,--that angular division of it, which lies to the north of the Sebastian channel presents us with physical features that correspond more nearly with those of the plains of Patagonia; and upon this part we find tribes of Indians that beyond doubt are true Patagonians,--and not Fuegians, as they have been described. This will account for the fact that some navigators have seen people on the Fuegian side that were large-bodied men, clothed in guanaco skins, and exhibiting none of those wretched traits which characterise the Fuegians; while, on the other hand, miserable, stunted men are known to occupy the mountainous western part of Patagonia. It amounts to this,--that the Patagonians _have_ crossed the Straits of Magellan; and it is this people, and not Fuegians, who are usually seen upon the champaign lands north of the Sebastian channel. Even the guanaco has crossed at the same place,--for this quadruped, as well as a species of deer, is found in the eastern division of Tierra del Fuego. Perhaps it was the camel-sheep--which appears to be almost a necessity of the Patagonian's existence--that first induced these water-hating giants to make so extensive a voyage as that of crossing the Straits at Cape Orange!

At Cape Orange the channel is so narrow, one might fancy that the Patagonians, if they possessed one half the pedestrian stretch attributed to the giants of old, might have stepped from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e without wetting their great feet!

Perhaps there are no two people on earth, living so near each other as the Patagonians and Fuegians, who are more unlike. Except in the colour of the skin and hair, there is hardly a point of resemblance between them. The former seems to hate the sea: at all events he never goes out upon, nor even approaches its sh.o.r.e, except in pursuit of such game as may wander that way. He neither dwells near, nor does he draw any portion of his subsistence from the waters of the great deep,--fish const.i.tuting no part of his food.

All this is directly the reverse with the Fuegian. The beach is the situation _he_ chooses for his dwelling-place, and the sea or its sh.o.r.e is his proper element. He is more than half his time, either on it, or _in_ it,--on it in his canoe, and in it, while wading among the tidal shoals in search of fish, mussels, and limpets, which const.i.tute very nearly the whole of his subsistence.

It is very curious, therefore, while noting the difference between these two tribes of Indians, to observe how each confines its range to that part of the Magellanic land that appears best adapted to their own peculiar habits,--those of the Patagonian being altogether _terrestrial_, while those of the Fuegian are essentially _aquatic_.

We have stated elsewhere the limits of the Patagonian territory; and shown that, ethnologically speaking they do not occupy the whole northern sh.o.r.e of the Magellan Straits, but only the eastern half of it.

Westward towards the Pacific the aspect of the land, on both sides of this famous channel, may be regarded as of the same character, though altogether different from that which is seen at the entrance, or eastern end.

West of Cape Negro on one side, and the Sebastian pa.s.sage on the other, bleak mountain summits, with narrow wooded valleys intervening, become the characteristic features. There we behold an incongruous labyrinth of peaks and ridges, of singular and fantastic forms,--many of them reaching above the limits of perpetual snow,--which, in this cold climate descends to the height of four thousand feet. We have seen that these mountains are separated from each other,--not by plains, nor even valleys, in the ordinary understanding of the term; but by _ravines_, the steep sides of which are covered with sombre forests up to a height of one thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea: at which point vegetation terminates with a uniformity as exact as that of the snow-line itself! These forests grow out of a wet, peaty soil,--in many places impa.s.sable on account of its boggy nature; and of this character is almost the whole surface of the different islands. The trees composing the forests are few in species,--those of the greatest size and numbers being the "winter's bark" (_drymys_), of the order _magnoliacae_, a birch, and, more abundantly, a species of beech-tree, the _f.a.gus betuloides_. These last-named trees are many of them of great size; and might almost be called evergreens: since they retain part of their foliage throughout the whole year; but it would be more appropriate to style them _ever-yellows_: since at no period do they exhibit a verdure, anything like the forests of other countries. They are always clad in the same sombre livery of dull yellow, rendering the mountain landscape around them, if possible, more dreary and desolate.

The forests of Tierra del Fuego are essentially worthless forests; their timber offering but a limited contribution to the necessities of man, and producing scarce any food for his subsistence.

Many of the ravines are so deep as to end, as already stated, in becoming arms or inlets of the sea; while others again are filled up with stupendous glaciers, that appear like cataracts suddenly arrested in their fall, by being frozen into solid ice! Most of these inlets are of great depth,--so deep that the largest ship may plough through them with safety. They intersect the islands in every direction,--cutting them up into numerous peninsulas of the most fantastic forms; while some of the channels are narrow _sounds_, and stretch across the land of Tierra del Fuego from ocean to ocean.

The "Land of Fire" is therefore not an island,--as it was long regarded,--but rather a collection of islands, terminated by precipitous cliffs that frown within gunshot of each other. Ofttimes vast ma.s.ses of rock, or still larger ma.s.ses of glacier ice, fall from these cliffs into the profound abysses of the inlets below; the concussion, as they strike the water, reverberating to the distance of miles; while the water itself, stirred to its lowest depths, rises in grand surging waves, that often engulf the canoe of the unwary savage.

"Tierra del Fuego" is simply the Spanish phrase for "Land of Fire." It was so called by Magellan on account of the numerous fires seen at night upon its sh.o.r.es,--while he and his people were pa.s.sing through the Straits. These were signal fires, kindled by the natives,--no doubt to telegraph to one another the arrival of those strange leviathans, the Spanish ships, then seen by them for the first time.

The name is inappropriate. A more fit appellation would be the "land of water;" for, certainly, in no part of the earth is water more abundant: both rain and snow supplying it almost continually. Water is the very plague of the island; it lies stagnant or runs everywhere,--forming swamps, wherever there is a spot of level ground, and rendering even the declivities of the mountains as spongy as a peat-bog.

The climate throughout the whole year is excessively cold; for, though the winter is perhaps not more rigorous than in the same lat.i.tude of a northern land, yet the summer is almost as severe as the winter; and it would be a misnomer to call it summer at all. Snow falls throughout the whole year; and even in the midsummer of Tierra del Fuego men have actually perished from cold, at no great elevation above the level of the sea!

Under these circ.u.mstances, it would scarce be expected that Tierra del Fuego should be inhabited,--either by men or animals of any kind; but no country has yet been reached, too cold for the existence of both. No part of the earth seems to have been created in vain; and both men and beasts are found dwelling under the chill skies of Tierra del Fuego.

The land-animals, as well as the birds, are few in species, as in numbers. The _guanaco_ is found upon the islands; but whether indigenous, or carried across from the Patagonian sh.o.r.e, can never be determined: since it was an inhabitant of the islands long anterior to the arrival of Magellan. It frequents only the eastern side of the cl.u.s.ter,--where the ground is firmer, and a few level spots appear that might be termed plains or meadows. A species of deer inhabits the same districts; and besides these, there are two kinds of fox-wolves (_canis Magellanicus_ and _canis Azarae_), three or four kinds of mice, and a species of bat.

Of water-mammalia there is a greater abundance: these comprising the whale, seals, sea-lions, and the sea-otter.

But few birds have been observed; only the white-tufted flycatcher, a large black woodp.e.c.k.e.r with scarlet crest, a creeper, a wren, a thrush, a starling, hawks, owls, and four or five kinds of finches.

The water-birds, like the water-mammalia, muster in greater numbers. Of these there are ducks of various kinds, sea-divers, and penguins, the albatross, and sheer-water, and, more beautiful than all, the "painted"

or "Magellan goose."

Reptiles do not exist, and insects are exceedingly rare. A few flies and b.u.t.terflies are seen; but the mosquito--the plague of other parts of South America--does not venture into the cold, humid atmosphere of the Land of Fire.

We now arrive at the _human_ inhabitants of this desolate region.

As might be expected, these exhibit no very high condition of either physical or mental development, but the contrary. The character of their civilisation is in complete correspondence with that of their dreary dwelling-place,--at the very bottom of the scale. Yes, at the very bottom, according to most ethnologists; even lower down than that of the Digger Indian, the Andaman islander, the Bushman of Africa, or the Esquimaux of the Arctic Ocean: in fact, any comparison of a Fuegian with the last-mentioned would be ridiculous, as regards either their moral or physical condition. Below the Esquimaux, the Fuegian certainly is, and by many a long degree.

In height, the tallest Fuegian stands about five feet,--not in his boots, for he wears none; but on his naked soles. His wife is just six inches shorter than himself--a difference which is not a bad proportion between the s.e.xes, but in other respects they are much alike. Both have small, misshapen limbs, with large knee-caps, and but little calf; both have long ma.s.ses of coa.r.s.e tangled hair, hanging like bunches of black snakes over their shoulders; and both are as naked as the hour in which they were born,--unless we call _that_ a dress,--that bit of stinking sealskin which is slung at the back, and covers about a fifth part of the whole body! Hairy side turned inward, it extends only from the nape of the neck to a few inches below the hollow of the back; and is fastened in front by means of a thong or skewer pa.s.sing over the breast.

It is rarely so ample as to admit of being "skewered;" and with this scanty covering, in rain and snow, frost and blow,--some one of which is continuously going on,--the shivering wretch is contented. Nay, more; if there should happen an interval of mild weather, or the wearer be at work in paddling his canoe, he flings this unique garment aside, as if its warmth were an inc.u.mbrance! When the weather is particularly cold, he shifts the sealskin to that side of his body which may chance to be exposed to the blast!

The Fuegian wears neither hat, nor shirt, waistcoat, nor breeches,--no shoes, no stockings,--nothing intended for clothing but the bit of stinking skin. His vanity, however, is exhibited, not in his dress, to some extent in his adornments. Like all savages and many civilised people, he _paints_ certain portions of his person; and his "escutcheon"

is peculiar. It would be difficult to detail its complicated labyrinth of "crossings" and "quarterings." We shall content ourselves by stating that black lines and blotches upon a white ground const.i.tute its chief characteristic. Red, too, is sometimes seen, of a dark or "bricky"

colour. The black is simply charcoal; while the white-ground coat is obtained from a species of infusorial clay, which he finds at the bottom of the peaty streams, that pour down the ravines of the mountains. As additional ornaments, he wears strings of fish-teeth, or pieces of bone, about his wrists and ankles. His wife carries the same upon her neck; and both, when they can procure it, tie a plain band around the head, of a reddish-brown colour,--the material of which is the long hair of the guanaco. The "cloak," already described, is sometimes of sea-otter instead of sealskin; and on some of the islands, where the deer dwells, the hide of that animal affords a more ample covering. In most cases, however, the size of the garment is that of a pocket handkerchief; and affords about as much protection against the weather as a kerchief would.

Though the Fuegian has abundance of hair upon his head, there is none, or almost none on any part of his body. He is beardless and whiskerless as an Esquimaux; though his features,--without the adornment of hair,-- are sufficiently fierce in their expression.

He not only looks ferocious, but in reality is so,--deformed in mind, as he is hideous in person. He is not only ungrateful for kindness done, but unwilling to remember it; and he is cruel and vindictive in the extreme. Beyond a doubt he is a _cannibal_; not habitually perhaps, but in times of scarcity and famine,--a true cannibal, for he does not confine himself to eating his _enemies_, but his _friends_ if need be,-- and especially the old women of his tribe, who fall the first victims, in those crises produced by the terrible requirements of an impending starvation. Unfortunately the fact is too well authenticated to admit of either doubt or denial; and, even while we write, the account of a ma.s.sacre of a ship's crew by these hostile savages is going the rounds of the press,--that ship, too, a missionary vessel, that had landed on their sh.o.r.es with the humane object of ameliorating their condition.

Of course such unnatural food is only partaken of at long and rare intervals,--by many communities never,--and there is no proof that the wretched Fuegian has acquired an appet.i.te for it: like the Feegee and some other savage tribes. It is to be hoped that he indulges in the horrid habit, only when forced to it by the necessities of extreme hunger.

His ordinary subsistence is sh.e.l.l-fish; though he eats also the flesh of the seal and sea-otter; of birds, especially the penguin and Magellanic goose, when he can capture them. His stomach will not "turn" at the blubber of a whale,--when by good chance one of these leviathans gets stranded on his coast,--even though the great carca.s.s be far gone in the stages of decomposition! The only vegetable diet in which he indulges is the berry of a shrub--a species of arbutus--which grows abundantly on the peaty soil; and a fungus of a very curious kind, that is produced upon the trunks of the beech-tree. This fungus is of a globular form, and pale-yellow colour. When young, it is elastic and turgid, with a smooth surface; but as it matures it becomes shrunken, grows tougher in its texture, and presents the pitted appearance of a honeycomb. When fully ripe, the Fuegians collect it in large quant.i.ties, eating it without cooking or other preparation. It is tough between the teeth; but soon changes into pulp, with a sweetish taste and flavour,--somewhat resembling that of our common mushroom.

These two vegetables--a berry and a cryptogamic plant--are almost the only ones eaten by the natives of Tierra del Fuego. There are others upon the island that might enable them to eke out their miserable existence: there are two especially sought after by such Europeans as visit this dreary land,--the "wild celery" (_opium antarctic.u.m_), and the "scurvy gra.s.s" (_cardamine antis...o...b..tica_); but for these the Fuegian cares not. He even knows not their uses.

In speaking of other "odd people," I have usually described the mode of building their house; but about the house of the Fuegian I have almost "no story to tell." It would be idle to call that a house, which far more resembles the lair of a wild beast; and is, in reality, little better than the den made by the orang-outang in the forests of Borneo.

Such as it is, however, I shall describe it.

Having procured a number of long saplings or branches,--not always straight ones,--the Fuegian sharpens them at one end by means of his mussel-sh.e.l.l knife; and then sticking the sharpened ends into the ground in a kind of circle, he brings the tops all together, and ties them in a bunch,--so as to form a rude hemispherical frame. Upon this he lays some smaller branches; and over these a few armfuls of long coa.r.s.e gra.s.s, and the house is "built". One side--that to leeward of the prevailing wind--is left open, to allow for an entrance and the escape of smoke. As this opening is usually about an eighth part of the whole circ.u.mference, the house is, in reality, nothing more than a shed or lair. Its furniture does not contradict the idea; but, on the contrary, only strengthens the comparison. There is no table, no chair, no bedstead: a "shake-down" of damp gra.s.s answers for all. There are no implements or utensils,--if we except a rude basket used for holding the arbutus berries, and a sealskin bag, in which the sh.e.l.l-fish are collected. A bladder, filled with water, hangs upon some forking stuck against the side: in the top of this bladder is a hole, from which each member of the family takes a "suck," when thirst inclines them to drink!