Part 11

However, it grew late, and was time to return on board. As soon as they saw that we were preparing for that purpose, they seemed sorry; they made signs for us to wait, because some more of their people were coming. We made signs that we would return the next day, and that we would bring them what they desired: they seemed as if they would have liked our passing the night on shore much better. When they saw that we were going, they accompanied us to the sea shore; a Patagonian sung during this march. Some of them went into the water up to their knees, in order to follow us further. When we were come to our boats, we were obliged to look after every thing; for they got hold of all that was within their reach. One of them had taken a sickle, but on its being perceived, he returned it without resistance. Before we were got to any distance, we perceived their troops encrease, by the arrival of others, who came in full gallop. We did not fail, as we left them, to shout _shawa_ so loud that the whole coast resounded with it.

[Sidenote: Description of these Americans.]

These Americans are the same with those seen by the Etoile in 1765. One of our sailors, who was then on board that vessel, now knew one of these Americans again, having seen him in the first voyage. They have a fine shape; among those whom we saw, none was below five feet five or six inches, and none above five feet nine or ten inches[65]; the crew of the Etoile had even seen several in the preceding voyage, six feet (or six feet, 4,728 inches English) high. What makes them appear gigantic, are their prodigious broad shoulders, the size of their heads, and the thickness of all their limbs. They are robust and well fed: their nerves are braced, and their muscles are strong and sufficiently hard; they are men left entirely to nature, and supplied with food abounding in nutritive juices, by which means they are come to the full growth they are capable of: their figure is not coarse or disagreeable; on the contrary, many of them are handsome: their face is round, and somewhat flattish; their eyes very fiery; their teeth vastly white, and would only be somewhat too great at Paris; they have long black hair tied up on the top of their heads; I have seen some of them with long but thin whiskers. Their colour is bronzed, as it is in all the Americans, without exception, both in those who inhabit the torrid zone, and those who are born in the temperate and in the frigid ones. Some of them had their cheeks painted red: their language seemed very delicate, and nothing gave us reason to fear any ferocity in them. We have not seen their women; perhaps they were about to come to us; for the men always desired that we should stay, and they had sent one of their people towards a great fire, near which their camp seemed to be, about a league from us; and they shewed us that somebody would come from thence.

The dress of these Patagonians is very nearly the same with that of the Indians of Rio de la Plata; they have merely a piece of leather which covers their natural parts, and a great cloak of _guanaco_ or _sorillos_ skins, which is fastened round the body with a girdle; this cloak hangs down to their heels, and they generally suffer that part which is intended to cover the shoulders to fall back, so that, notwithstanding the rigour of the climate, they are almost always naked from the girdle upwards. Habit has certainly made them insensible to cold; for though we were here in summer, Reaumur’s thermometer was only one day risen to ten degrees above the freezing point. These men have a kind of half boots, of horse-leather, open behind, and two or three of them had on the thigh a copper ring, about two inches broad. Some of my officers likewise observed, that two of the youngest among them had such beads as are employed for making necklaces.

The only arms which we observed among them, are, two round pebbles, fattened to the two ends of a twisted gut, like those which are made use of in all this part of America, and which we have described above. They had likewise little iron knives, of which the blade was between an inch and an inch and a half broad. These knives, which were of an English manufactory, were certainly given them by Mr. Byron. Their horses, which are little and very lean, were bridled and saddled in the same manner as those belonging to the inhabitants of Rio de la Plata. One of the Patagonians had at his saddle, gilt nails; wooden stirrups, covered with plates of copper; a bridle of twisted leather, and a whole Spanish harness. The principal food of the Patagonians seems to be the marrow and flesh of _guanacoes_ and _vicunnas_; many of them had quarters of this flesh fastened on their horses, and we have seen them eat pieces of it quite raw. They had likewise little nasty dogs with them, which, like their horses, drink sea-water, it being a very scarce thing to get fresh water on this coast, and even in the country.

None of them had any apparent superiority over the rest; nor did they shew any kind of esteem for two or three old men who were in their troop. It is remarkable that several of them pronounced the Spanish words _manana_, _muchacha_, _bueno_, _chico_, _capitan_. I believe this nation leads the life of Tartars. Besides rambling through the immense plains of South America, men, women and children being constantly on horseback, pursuing the game, or the wild beasts, with which those plains abound, dressing and covering themselves with skins, they bear probably yet this resemblance with the Tartars, that they pillage the caravans of travellers. I shall conclude this article by adding, that we have since found a nation in the South Pacific Ocean which is taller than the Patagonians.

[Sidenote: Quality of the soil in this part of America.]

The soil in the place we landed at is very dry, and in that particular bears great resemblance with that of the Malouines; the botanists have likewise found almost all the same plants in both places. The sea shore was surrounded with the same sea-weeds, and covered with the same shells. Here are no woods, but only some shrubs. When we had anchored in Boucault’s bay, the tide was going to set in against us, and whilst we were on shore, we observed that the water rose, and accordingly the flood sets in to eastward. [Sidenote: Remarks on the tides in these parts.]This observation we have been able to make with certainty several times during this navigation, and it had struck me already in my first voyage. At half past nine in the evening, the ebb set to westward. We sounded at high water[66], and found the depth was encreased to twenty-one fathoms, from eighteen, which we had when we cast anchor.

[Sidenote: Second time of anchoring in Boucault bay.]

On the 9th, at half an hour past four in the morning, the wind being N. W. we set all our sails in order to stem the tide, steering S. W. by W. we advanced only one league; the wind veering to S. W. and blowing very fresh, we anchored again in nineteen fathom, bottom of sand, ooze, and rotten shells. The bad weather continued throughout this day and the next. The short distance we were advanced had brought us further from the shore, and during these two days, there was not one favourable instant for sending out a boat, for which, the Patagonians were certainly as sorry as ourselves. We saw the whole troop of them collected at the place where we landed before, and we thought we perceived with our perspective glasses, that they had erected some huts there. However, I apprehend that their head quarters were more distant, for men on horseback were constantly going and coming. We were very sorry that we could not bring them what we had promised; they might be satisfied at a small expence.

The difference of the depth at the different times of tide, was only one fathom here. On the 10th, from an observation of the moon’s distance from Regulus, M. Verron calculated our west longitude in this anchoring place, at 73° 26′ 15″, and that of the easterly entrance of the second gut, at 73° 34′ 30″. Reaumur’s thermometer fell from 9° to 8° and 7°.

[Sidenote: Loss of an anchor.]

The 11th, at half an hour after midnight, the wind veering to N. E. and the tide setting to westward an hour before, I made signal for weighing. Our efforts to that purpose were fruitless, though we had got the winding-tackle upon the cable. At two in the morning, the cable parted between the bits and the hawse, and so we lost our anchor. We set all our sails, and soon had the tide against us, which we were hardly able to stem with a light breeze at N. W. though the tide in the second gut is not near so strong as in the first. [Sidenote: Passing the second gut.] At noon the ebb came to our assistance, and we passed the second gut[67], the wind having been variable till three in the afternoon, when it blew very fresh from S. S. W. and S. S. E. with rain and violent squalls[68].

[Sidenote: We anchor near the isle of Elizabeth.]

In two boards we came to the anchoring-place, to the northward of the isle of Elizabeth, where we anchored, two miles off shore, in seven fathom, grey sand with gravel and rotten shells. The Etoile anchored a quarter of a league more to the S. E. than we did, and had seventeen fathom of water.

[Sidenote: Description of this isle.]

We were obliged to stay here the 11th and 12th, on account of the contrary wind, which was attended with violent squalls, rain, and hail. On the 12th in the afternoon, we hoisted out a boat, in order to go on shore on the isle of Elizabeth[69]. We landed in the N. E. part of the island. Its coasts are high and steep, except at the S. W. and S. E. points, where the shore is low. However, one may land in every part of it, as there is always a small slip of flat land under the high perpendicular shores. The soil of the isle is very dry; we found no other water than that of a little pool in the S. W. part of the isle, but it was very brackish. We likewise saw several dried marshes, where the earth is in some places covered with a thin crust of salt. We found some bustards, but they were in small number, and so very shy, that we were never able to come near enough to shoot them: they were however sitting on their eggs. It appears that the savages come upon this island. We found a dead dog, some marks of fire places, and the remnants of shells, the fish of which had been feasted upon. There is no wood on it, and a small sort of heath is the only thing that may be used as fuel. We had already collected a quantity of it, fearing to be obliged to pass the night on this isle, where the bad weather kept us till nine of the clock in the evening: we should have been both ill lodged and ill fed on it.

Footnote 58:

Chaines de haubans.

Footnote 59:

Cap des Vierges, called Cape Virgin Mary by Lord Anson and Sir John Narborough. F.

Footnote 60:

74° 25′; Paris being 2° 25′ E. from London: vide Ferguson’s Tables. F.

Footnote 61:

From Cape Virgin, till to the entrance of the first _goulet_, we may reckon 14 or 15 leagues; and the straits are in every part of this interval, between five and seven leagues wide. The north coast, as far as Cape Possession, is uniform, but little elevated, and very healthy. From this cape onward, one must be careful to avoid the rocks, which are situated in a part of the bay of the same name. When the hillocks, which I have named the _Quatre fils Aymond_,[62] only offer two to sight, in form of a gate, you are then opposite the said rocks.

Footnote 62:

These rocks are called _Ass’s Ears_, by Sir John Narborough. F.

Footnote 63:

When one intends to enter the first gut, or narrow passage in the straits, it is proper to coast within a league of Cape Possession; then to steer S. by W. taking care not to fall off too much to the south, on account of the rocks which extend N. N. E. and S. S. W. from Cape Orange, more than three leagues.

Footnote 64:

The first gut lies N. N. E. and S. S. W. and is not above three leagues long. Its breadth varies from a league, to a league and a half. I have already given notice of the ledge of rocks at Cape Orange. At coming out of the first gut, you meet with two lesser rocks, extended on each of its extremities. They both project to S. W. There is a great depth of water in the gut.

Footnote 65:

This is to be understood in French measure, in which the French foot exceeds the English by ,788 of an inch; accordingly, in French measure, 5 feet 6 inches = 5 feet, 10,334, inches English; and French 5 feet 10 inches are = 6 feet, 2,5704, inches English. F.

Footnote 66:

A mer étale.

Footnote 67:

The distance between the W. point or end of the first gut, and the entrance of the second, is about six or seven leagues, and the breadth of the straits there is likewise about seven leagues. The second gut lies N. E. by E. and S. W. by W. it is about a league and a half broad, and three or four long.

Footnote 68:

In passing the second gut, it is necessary to keep along the coast of Patagonia, because, when you come out of the gut, the titles run southward, and you must be careful to avoid a low point, projecting below the head-land of St George’s isle, and though this apparent cape is high and steep, the low land advances far to W. N. W.

Footnote 69:

The isle of Elizabeth[70] lies N. N. E. and S. S. W. with the west point of the second gut, on the Patagonian side. The isles of St. Barthelemi (St. Bartholomew) and of Lions likewise, lie N. N. E. and S. S. W. between them and the west point of the second gut on St. George’s island.

Footnote 70:

The French call it Sainte Elizabeth. F.

_CHAP. IX._

_The run from the isle of Elizabeth, through the Straits of Magalhaens. Nautical details on this navigation._

We were now going to enter the woody part of the the straits of Magalhaens; and the first difficult steps were already made.

[Sidenote: Difficulties of the navigation along the isle of Elizabeth.] It was not till the 13th in the afternoon, the wind being N. W. that we weighed, notwithstanding the force with which it blew, and made sail in the channel, which separates the isle of Elizabeth from the isles of St. Barthelemi and of Lions[71]. We were forced to carry sail; though there were almost continually very violent squalls coming off the high land of Elizabeth island; along which we were obliged to sail, in order to avoid the breakers, which extend around the other two isles[72]. The tide in this channel sets to the southward, and seemed very strong to us. We came near the shore of the main-land, below Cape Noir; here the coast begins to be covered with woods; and its appearance from hence is very pleasant. It runs southward; and the tides here are not so strong as in the above place.

[Sidenote: Bad weather, and disagreeable night.]

It blew very fresh and squally, till six o’clock in the evening; when it became calm and moderate. We sailed along the coast, at about a league’s distance, the weather being clear and serene; flattering ourselves to be able to double Cape Round during night; and then to have, in case of bad weather, Port Famine to leeward. But these projects were frustrated; for, at half an hour after mid-night, the wind shifted all at once to S. W. the coast became foggy; the continual and violent squalls brought rain and hail with them; and, in short, the weather soon became as foul, as it had been fair the moment before. Such is the nature of this climate; the changes of weather are so sudden and frequent, that it is impossible to foresee their quick and dangerous revolutions.

Our main-sail having been split, when in the brails, we were forced to ply to windward, under our fore-sail, main-stay-sail, and close-reefed top-sails, endeavouring to double Point St. Anne, and to take shelter in Port Famine. This required our gaining a league to windward; which we could never effect. As our tacks were short, and being obliged to wear, a strong current was carrying us into a great inlet in Terra del Fuego; we lost three leagues in nine hours on this manœuvre, and were obliged to go along the coast in search of anchorage to leeward. [Sidenote: We anchor in Bay Duclos.] We ranged along it, and kept sounding continually; and, about eleven o’clock in the morning, we anchored a mile off shore, in eight fathom and a half, oozy sand, in a bay, which I named Bay Duclos[74]; from the name of M. Duclos Guyot, a captain of a fire-ship, who was the next in command after me on this voyage; and whose knowledge and experience have been of very great use to me.

[Sidenote: Description of this bay.]

This bay is open to the eastward, and its depth is very inconsiderable. Its northern point projects more into the sea, than the southern one; and they are about a league distant from each other. The bottom is very good in the whole bay; and there is every where six or eight fathom of water, within a cable’s length from the shore. This is an excellent anchorage; because the westerly winds, which prevail here, blow over the coast, which is very high in this part. Two little rivers discharge themselves into the bay; the water is brackish at their mouth, but very good five hundred yards above it. A kind of meadow lies along the landing-place, which is sandy. The woods rise behind it in form of an amphitheatre; but the whole country seems entirely without animals. We have gone through a great track of it, without finding more than two or three snipes, some teals, ducks, and bustards in very small number: we have likewise perceived some _perrokeets_[75]; the latter are not afraid of the cold weather.

[Sidenote: New observations on the tides.]

At the mouth of the most southerly river, we found seven huts, made of branches of trees, twisted together, in form of an oven; they appeared to have been lately built, and were full of calcined shells, muscles, and limpets. We went up a considerable way in this river, and saw some marks of men. Whilst we were on shore, the tide rose one foot, and the flood accordingly came from east, contrary to the observations we had made after doubling Cape Virgin; having ever since seen the water rise when the tide went out of the straits. But it seems to me, after several observations, that having passed the guts, or narrows, the tides cease to be regular in all that part of the straits, which runs north and south. The number of channels, which divide Terra del Fuego in this part, seem necessarily to cause a great irregularity in the motion of the water. During the two days which we passed in this anchoring-place, the thermometer varied from eight to five degrees. On the 15th, at noon, we observed 53° 20′ of latitude there; and that day we employed our people in cutting wood; the calm not permitting us then to set sail.

[Sidenote: Nautical observations.]

Towards night the clouds seemed to go to westward, and announced us a favourable wind. We hove a-peek upon our anchor; and, actually, on the 16th, at four o’clock in the morning, the breeze blowing from the point whence we expected it, we set sail. The sky, indeed, was cloudy; and, as is usual in these parts, the east and north-east winds, accompanied with fog and rain. We passed Point St. Anne[76] and Cape Round[77]. The former is a table-land, of a middling height; and covers a deep bay, which is both safe and convenient for anchoring. It is that bay, which, on account of the unhappy fate of the colony of Philippeville, established by the presumptuous Sarmiento, has got the name of _Port Famine_. Cape Round is a high land, remarkable on account of the figure which its name expresses; the shores, in all this tract, are woody and steep; those of Terra del Fuego appear cut through by several straits. Their aspect is horrible; the mountains there are covered with a blueish snow, as old as the creation. Between Cape Round and Cape Forward there are four bays, in which a vessel may anchor.

[Sidenote: Description of a singular cape.]

Two of these are separated from each other by a cape; the angularity of which fixed our attention, and deserves a particular description. This cape rises upwards of a hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea; and consists entirely of horizontal strata, of petrified shells. I have been in a boat to take the soundings at the foot of this monument, which marks the great changes our globe has undergone; and I have not been able to reach the bottom, with a line of a hundred fathom.

[Sidenote: Description of Cape Forward.]

The wind brought us to within a league and a half of Cape Forward; we were then becalmed for two hours together. I profited of this time, to go in my pinnace, near Cape Forward, to take soundings and bearings. This cape is the most southerly point of America, and of all the known continents. From good observations we have determined its south lat. to be 54° 5′ 45″. It shews a surface with two hillocks, extending about three quarters of a league; the eastern hillock being higher than the western one. The sea is almost unfathomable below the cape; however, between the two hillocks or heads, one might anchor in a little bay provided with a pretty considerable rivulet, in 15 fathom, sand and gravel; but this anchorage being dangerous in a southerly wind, ought only to serve in a case of necessity. The whole cape is a perpendicular rock, whose elevated summit is covered with snow. However, some trees grow on it; the roots of which are fixed in the crevices, and are supplied with perpetual humidity. We landed below the cape at a little rock, where we found it difficult to get room for four persons to stand on. On this point, which terminates or begins a vast continent, we hoisted the colours of our boat; and these wild rocks resounded, for the first time, with the repeated shouts of _vive le Roi_. From hence we set out for Cape Holland, bearing W. 4° N. and accordingly the coast begins here to run northward again.

[Sidenote: Anchoring in Bay Françoise.]

We returned on board at six o’clock in the evening; and soon after the wind veering to S. W. I went in search of the harbour, which M. de Gennes named the French Bay (_Baie Françoise_). At half an hour past eight o’clock we anchored there in ten fathom, sandy and gravelly bottom; between the two points of the bay, of which the one bore N. E. ½E. and the other S. ½W. and the little island in the middle, N. E. As we wanted to take in water and wood for our course across the Pacific Ocean, and the remaining part of the straits was unknown to me; being in my first voyage, come no further than near Bay Françoise, I resolved to take in those necessaries here; especially as M. de Gennes represents it very safe and convenient for this purpose: accordingly that very evening we hoisted all our boats out. [Sidenote: Advice with regard to this harbour.] During night the wind veered all round the compass; blowing in very violent squalls; the sea grew high, and broke round us upon a sand, which seemed to ly all round the bottom of the bay. The frequent turns, which the changes of the wind caused our ship to make round her anchor, gave us room to fear that the cable might be foul of it; and we passed the night under continual apprehensions.