The Land of Fire: A Tale of Adventure

“Sartain, we’d lose her, and I don’t think thar’s need to. Let me hev another look through yer glass, capting.”

A hasty glance enables him to make a rough estimate of the distance between the cove’s mouth and the approaching canoes.

“I guess we kin do it,” he says, with a satisfied air.

“Do what?”

“Git out o’ this cove ’fore they shet us up in it. Ef we kin but make ’roun’ that p’int eastart we’ll be safe. Besides, it ain’t at all likely we could escape t’other way, seein’ how we’re hampered.”

This, with a side glance toward Mrs Gancy and Leoline:

“On land they’d soon overtake us, hide or no hide – sure to. Tharfer, our best, our only chance, air by the water,” he affirms.

“By the water be it, then,” calls out Captain Gancy, decisively. “We shall risk it!”

“Yes, yes!” agreed the late Calypso’s second and third officers. “Anything but lose our boat!”

Never did crew or passengers get more quickly on board a craft, nor was there ever a more unceremonious leave-taking between guests and host, than that between the castaways and Orundelico.

On his side, the hurry is even greater: he scarcely waits, as it were on the doorstep, to see them off. For as soon as he is convinced they are really going, he turns his back on them and hastily darts in among the trees like a chased squirrel.

The instant that everybody is in the boat it is shot out into the water like an arrow from a bow, and brought head around, like a teetotum. Then, with the four oars in the hands of four men who work them with strength and will, it goes gliding, ay, fairly bounding, on for the outside channel.

Again it is a pull for very life, and they know it. If they had any doubt of it before, there can be none now, for as they draw near to the entrance of the cove they see the canoes spreading out to intercept them. The big fierce-looking men, too, are in a state of wild excitement, evidently purposing an attack. They cast off their skin wraps from their shoulders, displaying their naked bronze bodies and arms, like those of a Colossus. Each has in his hand what appears to be a bit of cord uniting two balls, about the size of small oranges. It is the bolas, an innocent-looking thing, but in reality a missile weapon as deadly in practised hands as a grenade or bomb-shell. That the giant savages intend casting them is clear. Their gestures leave no room for doubting it; they are only waiting until the boat is near enough.

The fugitives are well-nigh despairing, for she is almost near enough now. Less than two cables’ lengths are between her and the foremost of the canoes, each holding a course straight toward the other. It seems as though they must meet. Forty strokes more, and the boat will be among the canoes. Twenty will bring her within reach of the bolas.

And the strokes are given; but no longer to propel it in that direction, for the point of the land spit is now on her beam, the helm is put hard-a-port, bringing the boat’s head round with a sharp sheer to starboard, and she is clear of the cove!

The mast being already stepped, Ned and Henry now drop their oars and hasten to hoist sail. But ere the yard can be run up to the masthead, there comes a whizzing, booming sound – and it is caught in the bolas! The mast is struck too, and the balls, whirling around and around, lash it and the yard together, with the frumpled canvas between, as tight as a spliced spar!

And now dismay fills the hearts of the boat’s people: all chance of escape seems gone. Two of their oars for the time are idle, and the sail, as it were, fast furled. But no: it is loose again! for, quick as thought, Harry Chester has drawn his knife, and, springing forward, cut the lapping cord with one rapid slash. With equal promptness Ned Gancy, having the halyards still in hand, hoists away, the sheet is hauled taut aft, the sail instantly fills, and off goes the boat, like an impatient steed under loosened rein and deep-driven spurs – off and away, in gay careering dance over the water, quickly leaving the foiled, furious giants far – hopelessly far – in the wake!

This was the last peril encountered by the castaways that claims record here. What came after were but the ordinary dangers to which an open boat is exposed when skirting along a rock-bound storm-beaten coast, such as that which forms the southern and western borders of Tierra del Fuego. But still favoured by the protecting hand of Heaven, they passed unharmed through all, reaching Good Success Bay by noon of the third day after.

There were their hearts made glad by the sight of a ship at anchor inshore, Seagriff still further rejoicing on recognising it as a sealing vessel, the very one on which, years before, he had cruised while chasing the fur-coated amphibia through the waters of Fireland.

Yet another and greater joy is in store for them all – a very thrill of delight – as, pulling up nearer to the ship, they see a large boat – a pinnace – swinging by its painter at her side, with the name Calypso lettered on its stern. Over the ship’s rail, too, is seen a row of familiar faces – those of their old shipmates, whom they feared they might never see again. There are they all – Lyons and nine others – and all uniting in a chorus of joyous salutation.

Now hands are being shaken warmly on both sides, and mutual accounts rendered of what had happened to each party since their forced separation. As it turns out, the tale of peril and adventure is nearly all on the side of those who took to the gig, the crew of the pinnace having encountered but little incident or accident. They had kept to the outside coast and circumnavigated it from the Milky Way to the Straits of Le Maire. They had fallen in with some natives, but luckily had not been troubled by them.

They who had been troubled by them more than once, and whose lives had been endangered and almost lost, might well be thankful to Captain Fitzroy, one of whose objects in carrying the four Fuegians to England and back to their own country is thus told by himself: —

“Perhaps a shipwrecked seaman may hereafter receive help and kind treatment from Jemmy Button’s children, prompted, as they can hardly fail to be, by the traditions they will have heard of men of other lands, and by the idea, however faint, of their duty to God, as well as to their neighbours.”

The hopeful prediction has borne good fruit, even sooner than Captain Fitzroy looked for. But for his humane act Captain Gancy and all dear to him would have doubtless left their bones, unburied, on some lone spot in the Land of Fire.

1

The Sir Charles Napier known to history as the “hero of Saint Jean d’Acre,” but better known to sailors in the British navy as “Old Sharpen Your Cutlasses!” This quaint soubriquet he obtained from an order issued by him when he commanded a fleet in the Baltic, anticipating an engagement with the Russians.

2

The Fucus giganteus of Solander. The stem of this remarkable seaweed, though but the thickness of a man’s thumb, is often over one hundred and thirty yards in length, perhaps the longest of any known plant. It grows on every rock in Fuegian waters, from low-water mark to a depth of fifty or sixty fathoms, and among the most violent breakers. Often loose stones are raised up by it, and carried about, when the weed gets adrift. Some of these are so large and heavy that they can with difficulty be lifted into a boat. The reader will learn more of it further on.

3

Dactylis caespitosa. The leaves of this singular grass are often eight feet in length, and an inch broad at the base, the flower-stalks being as long as the leaves. It bears much resemblance to the “pampas grass,” now well known as an ornamental shrub.

4

Aptenodytes Patachonica. This singular bird has been christened “Jackass penguin” by sailors, on account of its curious note, which bears an odd resemblance to the bray of an ass. “King penguin” is another of its names, from its superior size, as it is the largest of the auk or penguin family.

5

It is the soft, crisp, inner part of the stem, just above the root, that is chiefly eaten. Horses and cattle are very fond of the tussac-grass, and in the Falkland Islands feed upon it. It is said, however, that there it is threatened with extirpation, on account of these animals browsing it too closely. It has been introduced with success into the Hebrides and Orkney Islands, where the conditions of its existence are favourable – a peaty soil, exposed to winds loaded with sea spray.

6

Cathartes jota. Closely allied to the “turkey-buzzard” of the United States.

7

Otaria Falklandica. There are several distinct species of “otary,” or “fur-seal”; those of the Falkland Islands and Tierra del Fuego being different from the fur-seals of northern latitudes.

8

The height of Sarmiento, according to Captain King, is 6,800 feet, though others make it out higher, one estimate giving it 6,967. It is the most conspicuous as well as the highest of Fuegian mountains, – a grand cone, always snow-covered for thousands of feet below the summit, and sometimes to its base.

9

The shell most in vogue among Fuegian belles for neck adornment is a pearl oyster (Margarita violacea) of an iridescent purplish colour, and about half an inch in diameter. It is found adhering to the kelp, and forms the chief food of several kinds of seabirds, among others the “steamer-duck.” Shells and shell-fish play a large part in Fuegian domestic (!) economy. A large kind of barnacle (Concholepas Peruviana) furnishes their drinking-cups, while an edible mollusc (Mactra edulis) and several species of limpet (Patellae) help out their often scanty larder.

10

Seagriff does not exaggerate. Their skill with this weapon is something remarkable. Captain King thus speaks of it: “I have seen them strike a cap, placed upon the stump of a tree fifty or sixty yards off, with a stone from a sling.” And again, speaking of an encounter he had with Fuegians, “It is astonishing how very correctly they throw them, and to what a distance. When the first stone fell close to us, we all thought ourselves out of musket-shot!”

11

A kind of telegraph or apparatus for conveying information by means of signals visible at a distance, and as oscillating arms or flags by daylight and lanterns at night. A simple form is still employed.

12

The “williwaw,” sometimes called the “wooley,” is one of the great terrors of Fuegian inland waters. It is a sort of squall with a downward direction, probably caused by the warmer air of the outside ocean, as it passes over the snowy mountains, becoming suddenly cooled, and so dropping with a violent rush upon the surface of the water, which surges under it as if struck by cannon shot.

13

He discovered the Straits, or, more properly, Strait, in 1519. His name is usually given as “Magellan” by French and English writers, the Spaniards making it “Magallanes.” But, as he was a native of Portugal, and Magalhaens is the Portuguese orthography, it should be the one preferred. By sealers and others, Tierra del Fuego is often called “Fireland.” Lady Brassey heard it so called by the settlers at “Sandy Point,” in the Strait.

14

The beeches are the Fagus Betuloides and Fagus Antarchia. The former partakes also of the character of a birch. It is an evergreen, while the leaves of the other fall off in the autumn. The “Winter’s-bark” (Drimys Winletii) is a laurel-like evergreen, which produces an aromatic bark, somewhat resembling cinnamon. It derives its name, not from the season, but from a Captain Winter, who first carried the bark to England in 1579.

15

The Fuegian parrot, or paroquet, is known to naturalists as Psittacus Imaragdinus, – the humming-bird as Melisuga Kingii. It was long believed that neither parrots nor humming-birds existed in Tierra del Fuego; Buffon, with his usual incorrectness, alleging that the specimens brought from it were taken elsewhere; other learned closet naturalists insisted on the parrots reported to exist there being “sea-parrots” (auks).

16

There is now a colony in the Straits of Magellan, not far from Port Famine, at Sandy Point – the “Punta de Arenas” of the old Spanish navigators. The colony is Chilian, and was established as a penal settlement, though it is now only nominally so. The population is about fourteen hundred.

17

These shell-heaps, or “kitchen middens,” are a feature of Fuegian scenery. They are usually found wherever there is a patch of shore level enough to land upon; but the beach opposite a bed of kelp is the place where the largest are met with. In such situations the skeletons of old wigwams are also encountered, as the Fuegians, on deserting them, always leave them standing, probably from some superstitious feeling.

18

Nearly all the larger trees in the Fuegian forests have the heartwood decayed, and are worthless as timber. Out of fifteen cut down by Captain King’s surveying party, near Port Famine, more than half proved to be rotten at the heart.

19

The Micropterus brachypterus of Quoy and Guimard. The “steamer-duck” is a feature almost peculiar to the inland Fuegian waters, and has always been a bird of note among sailors, like the “Cape pigeons” and “Mother Carey’s chickens.” There is another and smaller species, called the “flying steamer,” as it is able to mount into the air. It is called by naturalists Micropterus Patachonica.

20

The “sea-eggs” are a species of the family Echinids. Diving for them by the Fuegian women is one of their most painful and dangerous ways of procuring food, as they often have to follow it when the sea is rough and in coldest weather.

21

A young missionary named Mathews, who had volunteered, was taken out and left with them. But Captain Fitzroy, revisiting Woolya, the intended mission station, a few days after, found Mathews threatened with death at the hands of those he had hoped to benefit. During the interval, the savages had kept the poor fellow in constant fear for his life, even Jemmy Button and York having been unable to protect him. Captain Fitzroy took him away, and he afterwards carried on missionary work among the Maories of New Zealand.

22

The guanaco, by some supposed to be the llama in its wild state, is found on the eastern side of Tierra del Fuego. Its range extends to the farthest southern point by the Straits of Lemaire; and, strange to say, it is there of a much larger size than on the plains of Patagonia, with a rougher coat and a longer tail.

23

Jemmy Button’s “Oensmen” are the Yacana-cunnees, kindred of the Patagonians, who at some distant time have crossed the Magellan Strait, and now rove over the large tract to which Narborough gave the name of “King Charles’s South Land.” They are a hunting tribe, the guanaco being the chief object of their pursuit and source of subsistence.

24

Myopotamus coypus. It is found in many South American rivers, and, less frequently, in Fuegian waters. In habits and otherwise the coypu is much like the beaver, but is a smaller animal, and has a rounder tail.

25

Iron pyrites. It is found on several of the mountainous islands of western Tierra del Fuego, and is much-prized by the natives for the purpose indicated. Being scarce in most places, it is an article of inter-tribal commerce, and is eagerly purchased by the Patagonians, in whose territory it is not found.

26

The robbery was actually committed. After being left at Woolya, York and Fuegia found their way to the country that they had been taken from farther west; but not until they had stripped their former associate of most of the chattels that had been given him by Captain Fitzroy.