CHAPTER V.

_OUR SECOND SEASON IN PATAGONIAN WATERS._

On the evening of the 4th October, our small-pox patients being then sufficiently well to return on board, we sailed from Talcahuano, and proceeded to the southward in order to resume our surveying work in the Trinidad and Concepcion channels.

We entered the Gulf of Peñas on the afternoon of the 9th October, and as it was a clear, bright, sunshiny day, we had a good view of Cape Tres Montes, which forms the northern horn of the gulf, while ahead of us, and towards the S.E. bight, lay the Sombrero, Wager, and Byron Islands, the first of which marks the entrance of the Messier Channel. When we had got fairly inside this channel, a Fuegian canoe of the customary pattern was seen approaching from the western shore. We stopped to allow her to communicate with us, and, of course, the usual bartering of skins for knives and tobacco took place between the natives and our seamen. There were about twelve persons in the canoe, all of whom looked more than usually plump in regard to their bodies, but had the characteristically stunted legs of this wandering race. On leaving us they appeared to be quite sold out, and were almost entirely naked, some of them completely so; however, they seemed well pleased with the bit of traffic which they had accomplished.

We anchored for the night in Island Harbour. On the following morning we got under way at an early hour, and steamed down the Messier Channel and through the English Narrows, reaching Eden Harbour about dusk.

We passed several small icebergs, which had probably reached the channels from a glacier in Iceberg Sound. The largest was about twenty yards across, and projected about six feet above the surface. Most of the hills in this latitude were snow-clad as far as the 1,000 feet line.

On the evening of the next day, the 11th October, we reached the Trinidad Channel, and established ourselves for a time at Cockle Cove, an anchorage on the south shore of this channel, of which the survey was as yet incomplete.

It was now spring time on the west coast of Patagonia, but the weather was as chilly and wet as it had been in the autumn of the previous year, when we were moving north towards our winter quarters; indeed, from the accounts furnished to us by the sealers, as well as from our own experience, I am inclined to think that there are no marked seasonal changes in the weather on the west coast, whither the constant westerly winds are continually delivering the burden of aqueous vapour which they accumulate in their passage over the Southern Ocean. On the other hand, the condition of the fauna and flora indicate the natural two-fold division of the year as decisively as it is observed in the same latitude in the northern hemisphere.

In the month of October at Cockle Cove the kelp geese and steamer-ducks were preparing their nests, and the cormorants were assembling at their rookeries; the holly-leaved berberry (_Berberis ilicifolia_) was already displaying its gorgeous clusters of globular orange flowers, and the giant creeper (_Campsidium chilense_) was also in bloom, its scarlet bell-shaped flowers peeping from aloft among the branches of the beech-trees, where they appear to seek a position in which they may flourish safe from intrusion. Many of the mosses and _Jungermanniæ_ were also now in full fruit.

We dredged several times at Cockle Cove. The bottom was muddy, and abounded in a species of _Mactra_, which the men were fond of eating; and as they commonly called these shells "cockles," the anchorage was given a name which would recall the memory of these much-esteemed comestibles.

We also obtained numbers of a pale rose-coloured _Gephyrean_. On placing one of these creatures in a globe of fresh sea-water it seemed to feel quite at home, protruding its tentacles and puffing out its worm-like body until it looked like a tiny jam-roll with a star-fish attached to one end. These tentacles, which are eight in number and surround the mouth, are each one provided with from eight to ten finger-like processes. When there is only the former number, the organ looks remarkably like a hand, and the resemblance is rendered more striking when the tentacle is extended, and grasps some minute particles in the water, which to all appearance it conveys to its mouth. The usual shape assumed by this protean animal is that of a long cylinder with rounded ends, but it sometimes shows an annular construction about the middle of the body, and sometimes the whole anterior half of the body is retracted so as to give the animal a telescopic appearance. These changes of shape are produced by the action of two distinct systems of contractile fibres, transverse and longitudinal, the fibres of the former being disposed closely together like minute hoops, and girding the body from end to end, while the longitudinal fibres are arranged in five broad and well-marked equidistant bands, which extend uninterruptedly from one end of the cylindrical body to the other.

One night a small petrel flew on board, into one of the hoisted-up boats, where it was found by one of the seamen in the usual apparently helpless state. It is odd that some species of the family of petrels should find such difficulty about rising on the wing from a ship's deck. A freshly-caught Cape pigeon, placed on its legs on the deck, seems to forget utterly that it possesses the power of flight, and does not even attempt to use its wings, but waddles about like an old farmyard duck. The petrel above referred to was the little diver (_Pelecanoides urinatrix_), a bird not uncommon in the channels, but yet very difficult to obtain. During the previous season on the surveying ground, Sir George Nares, who was the first to notice it, reported one day that he had seen one of his old arctic friends, the "little auk," which indeed in its habits it strongly resembles. It usually (at all events during the day-time) sits on the surface of the water, and on the least sign of danger takes a long dive like a grebe, and on rising to the surface again flies away some few hundred yards, keeping all the while close to the surface. Its flight is like that of the grebe, but more feeble. In the Falkland Islands the habits of this bird are somewhat different. The bill is peculiarly broad and of a dark horn colour, the breast and belly of a dull grey, and the upper parts black; the tarsi and feet lavender. The body is short and plump, and is provided with disproportionately short wings. Speaking of this bird, Mr. Darwin says that it "offers an example of those extraordinary cases of a bird evidently belonging to one well-marked family, yet both in its habits and its structure allied to a very distant tribe."

There was a "rookery" of the red-cered cormorant (_Phalacrocorax magellanicus_) near Cockle Cove, but the nests were placed on almost inaccessible ledges in the face of the rocky cliff, which was streaked all over with vertical white lines from the droppings of the birds. This species of cormorant is very abundant throughout all the channels. A second species, a jet black bird (_Phalacrocorax imperialis_), builds its nest in trees; and there was a characteristic "rookery" of this tree cormorant at Port Bermejo, where we anchored in the month of November. It was in a quiet sequestered place, where two old and leafless beech trees overhung the margin of an inland pond. The nests were constructed of dried grass, and were placed among the terminal branches of the trees. These funereal-looking birds, sitting on or perching by their scraggy nests on the bare superannuated trees, formed a truly dismal spectacle. They uttered, too, a peculiar cawing sound, which was not cheerful, and so remarkably like the grunting of a pig, that before I saw the rookery I was for some time peeping through the bushes and looking for tracks, imagining myself in the neighbourhood of some new pachydermatous animal. It seemed as if the birds took the grunting business by turns, only one at a time giving tongue.

I was surprised to see how neatly they alighted on the branches. There was none of the awkward shuffling motion of wings and feet which they exhibit when alighting on the ground or on the water; but, on the contrary, each fresh arrival soared on to its perching place as smoothly and cleverly as a hawk, and grasped the branch firmly with its claws. At another tree rookery in Swallow Bay I noticed that when some of the birds on flying in observed my presence, they would rise high above the tree, and remain soaring around in circles till I had gone away. The method of soaring was to all appearance as smooth, steady, and devoid of effort as that of a vulture. And yet the cormorant is a heavy short-winged bird, that rises from the ground with difficulty, and whose ordinary method of flight is most laborious.

The handsomest bird in this region is the kingfisher (_Ceryle stellata_). It is commonly to be seen perched on some withered branches overhanging the water, where it will remain in a huddled-up sleeping attitude, its head turned sideways, but with an eye all the time fixed intently on the water beneath, until it espies a fish, when it drops like a stone, cleaving the water with a short sharp splash, and a moment afterwards emerges with an upward impulse, which raises it clear of the water, and enables it to fly away at once without any preliminary shaking or fluttering. It is an exceedingly unsuspicious and fearless bird, and when perched on its place of observation, will often allow one in a boat to approach within arm's reach of it. Mossy banks overhanging low sea cliffs are its usual nesting places, and there it excavates a tunnel through the soft moss and turfy soil, and at a distance of more than two feet from the aperture forms its nest.

There is a very peculiar and constant feature in the scenery of the woodlands about the summits of the low hills, which has given rise to much speculation amongst us. It is that many of the rounded bosses of syenite rock, which project for a few feet above the level of the swampy land, exhibit on their highest parts isolated mossy tufts, which look at a little distance like small piles of rubbish placed artificially in prominent places as landmarks, or like the marks which mountain climbers are so fond of setting up on rocky pinnacles as records of their feats. The usual shape is that of a cylinder about eighteen inches high and ten inches in diameter, with a rounded top; and it adheres to the rock by a well-defined base of matted fibres. It is composed of a very compact moss (_Tetraplodon mnioides_), which is of a rich green colour on the summit of the tuft when it is in a flourishing condition, and whose decaying remains, converted into a peaty mould entangled in a fibrous network of roots, form the body and base of the tuft. When this moss is in fruit, its long spore-bearing stalks, which rise to a height of three inches above its surface, are of a dark-red colour where they emerge from the green surface, this colour gradually changing into a beautiful golden-yellow above, where the spore-cases are supported. It is then an exceedingly pretty object. If one of these tufts be torn away from its rocky foundation, which is very easily done, and is a most tempting work of destruction, a white scar is left on the rock which will catch the eye at the distance of a mile, and which strongly resembles the small white-washed marks set up on the coasts by our surveyors for shooting theodolite angles at. Now the question is, why does the moss establish itself in this peculiar position, on the otherwise bare and exposed rock? It is all the same whether the rock be dome-shaped, as it most commonly is on the low hill-tops, or pyramidal, or wedge-shaped, the tuft--if there is one present--is invariably to be found perched on the highest part of it. I can only attribute this to the peculiar habit of growth of the moss, adapting it specially to this shape and this situation; a situation to which moreover it gives a decided preference, for I have not observed it growing elsewhere. Sometimes on climbing a rocky mountain hereabouts, one sees from afar off one of these tufts perched on a commanding pinnacle at the summit; then one thinks that surely this must be a cairn erected by some desolate traveller, and it is only on approaching closely that the delusion vanishes. It will then, perhaps, be found that the tuft stands alone, surrounded in all directions by a sloping surface of bare rock which isolates it by a radius of forty yards from all other vegetation; the little tuft bearing itself up bravely as if in obstinate defiance of the wind and rain, which one is at first inclined to think must have swept away an old uniform mantle of vegetation from the rocky surface, leaving the mossy tuft on the summit the sole survivor.

There is another peculiar form of vegetable growth which is a characteristic of the landscape in certain parts of this region, and which I have not noticed to the same extent elsewhere. It is this. Whenever a mass of bushes happens to be exposed to the prevailing westerly wind, as in the case of promontories which receive the unbroken blast on one of their sides, or of exposed islets in mid-channel, it will be seen that the bushes not only lean away permanently from the direction of the prevailing wind (as is usual everywhere), but that their summits are cut off evenly to a common plane which slopes gently upwards, and thus presents as trim an appearance as if the bushes had been carefully clipped to that shape with a gardening shears. Our surveying parties have sometimes been disappointed at finding that a headland, which seemed from a short distance to be covered with an inviting mantle of short grass, and which therefore looked a convenient place on which to establish an observing station, was in reality defended by a dense growth of bushes, which exhibited the phenomenon in question, and over, under, or through which it was almost impossible to get. Sometimes one could get over these bushes by lying down at full length and rolling sideways down the incline; but this method was objectionable, for it was sometimes ten or fifteen feet from the surface to the hard ground beneath. The reason of this curious growth is obvious enough. Each aspiring leafy twig that happens by a too luxuriant growth to shoot above its fellows, is cut down by the relentless blast before it can acquire strength enough to make good its footing; and those branches alone survive in the struggle which grow uniformly with their neighbours, and which thus present a sufficiently compact surface to withstand the blighting influence of the westerly gales.

One day, when we were lying at our old anchorage in Tom Bay, I saw a cormorant rise to the surface with a large fish in its mouth, which, for several minutes, it vainly attempted to swallow. I noticed it chucking the fish about until it had got hold of it by the head, but even then it seemed unable to "strike down" the savoury morsel. A flock of dominican gulls now appeared on the scene, and seeing the state of affairs at once swooped down on the unlucky cormorant, but the wily bird discomfited them by diving and carrying the fish with it. It was now most ludicrous to witness the disappointed appearance of the gulls, as they sat in a group on the water looking foolishly about, and apparently overcome with grief at their inability to follow up the chase by diving. After an interval of about half-a-minute the cormorant reappeared some distance off with the fish still in its mouth, and now one of the gulls succeeded at last in snatching the fish from its grasp, and flew away with it rapidly up a long winding arm of the sea. At this critical moment a skua (_Stercorarius chilensis_), hove in sight, and gave chase to the fugitive gull, until, unfortunately, a turn in the creek concealed both birds from our sight, but left us to safely conjecture that the last comer had ultimately the satisfaction of consuming the wretched fish.

I have often wondered at the apparently stupid manner in which long files of cormorants will continue on their course over the surface of the water without deviating so as to avoid a dangerous locality until they are close to the place or object to be avoided. Many persons are doubtless familiar with the appearance of these birds as they fly towards a boat which happens to lie in their route, and may remember the startled way in which, when about twenty or thirty yards off, they will alter their course with a vigorous swish of the tail and sheer off confusedly from the danger. Again, how eager they are to take advantage of the (probably) acuter vision of terns and gulls, when they observe that either of the latter have discovered a shoal of fish. Is it not therefore probable that cormorants are naturally short-sighted?--a disadvantage for which they are amply compensated by their superior diving powers.

The required survey of the Trinidad Channel was completed by the middle of the month of December; but before leaving this part of the coast, one day was devoted to an exploration of the "Brazo del Norte," a sound running in a northerly direction from the Trinidad Channel, and piercing the so-called Wellington Island. We got under way from Tom Bay early in the morning, and steaming across the Trinidad Channel, entered "Brazo del Norte," and explored it to a distance of twenty-six miles from the entrance. We were then obliged to turn back in order to reach Tom Bay before nightfall. It was a great pity that time did not permit us to trace this magnificent Sound to its northern extremity; for so far as we could judge there seemed every probability of its communicating directly with the Fallos Channel, which is known to extend southwards from the Gulf of Peñas to within a few miles of the place where we turned back. In this event it would prove a good sheltered route for vessels using the Straits of Magellan, and if free from the objectionable restrictions which close the Messier Channel route to large steamers, would be used not only in preference to it but to Trinidad Channel itself, whose approach from seaward is at least uninviting, if not hazardous.

On leaving Tom Bay we moved gradually down the Concepcion and Inocentes Channels, always anchoring for the night, and sometimes stopping for a day or two in order to examine some new port.

At Latitude Cove a black-necked swan (_Cygnus nigricollis_)--besides which only one other was ever seen by us in the western channels--was shot. It proved to be a male bird, weighing only seven pounds, and was in poor condition, having strayed far from its own happy hunting grounds among the lagoons of central Patagonia.

We anchored at Sandy Point in the Strait of Magellan on the 2nd January, and remained there eleven days in order to provision the ship, and to give the crew a change of air.

Here I made the acquaintance of the master of a sealing schooner, an intelligent man named John Stole--a Norwegian by birth--from whom we obtained much interesting information about the natives of Tierra del Fuego. At the time of our visit he was laid up with a bad leg, on account of which he had had to relinquish the command of his vessel the _Rescue_ for this season's cruise. His favourite sealing ground was among the rocky islets about the S.W. parts of Tierra del Fuego; but in the course of his wanderings he had visited most of the islets and coasts extending from the mouth of the river Plate on the eastern coast to the Gulf of Peñas in the westward. During his last cruise, he had the misfortune to be attacked by a party of natives in the Beagle Channel, at a place not far from the missionary station of Ushuwia. He gave us a most graphic description of the affair. His schooner had been lying quietly at anchor in a rather desolate part of the channel, having at the time only five men, including himself, on board, when a canoe containing ten Fuegians--eight men and two women--came alongside. Not suspecting any treachery, he went below to have his tea, leaving one man on the forecastle to look after the vessel. Presently hearing a scuffle on deck, he put up his head through the small hatch of his cabin, when a native standing above made a blow at him with a canoe paddle. The blow failed to take effect, as he had just time to duck his head under the boom of the mainsail which was secured amidships over the hatchway. He now retreated to his cabin, snatched up a revolver which was lying ready loaded, and returning to the hatch quietly shot the native who was waiting to strike another blow at his head. Two others now followed up the attack, armed with heavy stones, but they were shot in quick succession, one of them falling overboard and capsizing the canoe. As Stole now raised himself through the hatch, a fourth native attacked him from behind, but he turned half round, rested the barrel of the revolver on his left arm, and fired into his assailant's eye, the entire charge passing through the wretched creature's head. In the meantime the crew were successful in expelling the four natives who had attacked the fore part of the vessel, and all of whom were killed. The two women in the boat had been passing up stones as ammunition for their male companions, and when the canoe capsized one of them was drowned. When the fight was over, the deck presented a ghastly sight, being sloppy all over with blood in which were lying the bodies of the dead and dying savages, as well as quantities of stones which before the attack began had been passed up from the canoe to be expended in storming the hold of the vessel. Of the ten natives, eight men had been killed, and one woman drowned, the surviving woman being taken prisoner. The sealers now got under way, and proceeded to the mission of Ushuwia, where they reported the matter to Mr. Bridges, the manager of the station. He investigated the case, and on finding that the account given by the sealers was corroborated by the evidence of the surviving woman, exonerated the former of any misconduct in the energetic measures which they had taken to defend their lives, and to defeat the object of the natives, which of course was to obtain the possession of the schooner.

The first of the small sealing fleet to arrive at Sandy Point this season was the _Felis_, of Stanley, a small rakish schooner, commanded by an Irishman named Buckley. He had a cargo of 500 sealskins, which he sold to a German dealer on shore, at the rate of 30_s._ a skin, this being considered a good price for Sandy Point, and generally only given for the first arrivals in port; cargoes arriving late in the season not realizing more than 25_s._ a skin. In the present state of the home market, furs being in request, these skins, on being landed in England, whither they are conveyed by the mail-steamers, are bought by the furriers for about £4 apiece; so that the dealers at Sandy Point make a large profit by their share in the trade. Sealers fitting out at Sandy Point also usually get their stores and provisions on credit, and at an exorbitant valuation, from the same dealer to whom they subsequently sell their skins. The produce of the skins, moreover, as they are sold to the dealers at Sandy Point, is divided into three equal lots, of which one is divided among the crew, while the remaining two go to the owner, out of which he has to pay for the provisions and stores consumed on the cruise. It is calculated that the outlay on the stores swallows up about one-third of the entire sum, so that eventually about one-third of the value of the skins remains as the profit of the owner. In a very good season, the master and owner of a sealing schooner of thirty tons will make a clear profit of as much as £2,000, while each man of the crew (usually twelve in number) would get a share amounting to £80, on which to spend the blank eleven months of the off-season in idleness and debauchery.

The Magellan sealing season extends over the months of December and January. In or about the last week of November, the fur seal (_Arctocephalus falklandicus_) and the sea lion (_Otaria jubata_) "haul up" on the rocks of the outer coasts, and bring forth their young. The breeding places, or "rookeries," which they usually select, are small, low-lying, rocky islets, which are exposed to the swell of the great ocean, and over which, in heavy weather, the sea makes a more or less clean sweep. Situated as these rocks are, it is often a very difficult and dangerous matter to effect a landing, so that, to make sure of it, a sealing master usually arranges his cruise so that he may reach the vicinity of the rookery about a month before the breeding time. He then takes advantage of the first fine day to land a party of men on the rock with fuel, camping arrangements, and a large supply of provisions. The latter is essential, for it may be two or three months after the season is over before he can get a favourable day for embarking the men and the stock of skins. Cases have occurred where men have been weather-bound on the rocks for months, and reduced to the brink of starvation, although making use of seal-flesh and shell-fish as long as they could get them. The different sealing captains are, of course, very careful to conceal from each other the position of the "rookeries" of which they know; and they have got so much into the habit of deceiving each other in this respect, that it may be laid down as a safe rule, that if a sealing master says he has landed his men on some rocks to the northward, it is more than probable that the real locality is somewhere in a southerly direction. After the camping parties have been established at the "rookeries," the sealing vessel with the crew, now reduced to a very small number, is employed for the next month or two in cruising in search of new hunting-grounds. In this pursuit they sometimes wander for hundreds of miles from the place where the men have been landed, traversing unsurveyed channels and islets, trusting confidently that at night time they can always find some sheltered place where they can either anchor close in shore, or, if the water be too deep, as it generally is, make fast to a tree. When cruising in this way, they kill numbers of the Magellan sea-otter (_Lutra felina_), an animal which they include in their line of business, although not at all to the same extent as the fur seal. The fur of the otter when dressed is of great beauty; but as it is not now in fashion in Europe, it commands a very small price in the market, the salted skins, on delivery in England, only realizing about 2_s._ apiece. When the long brown hairs which form the animal's apparent coat have been removed, the underlying fur is seen to be of a beautiful golden-yellow colour. The otters are obtained by sealers in a great measure by bartering with native canoes (the Fuegians catching them with dogs), and also by shooting them, as they swim through the kelp close to the beach. Both the otter and sealskin are salted dry,--that is to say, each skin is spread out flat, salt is sprinkled plentifully over the inside, and the skin is then rolled up with the hair outside, and tied up into a round bundle. The old fur seals are killed just as they are met with, and without any regard to the preservation of the stock. The sealers commonly call the females "claphatches," and the males "wigs;" the skin of the former is much the more valuable of the two. The sea lions (another species of seal) are seldom meddled with; but occasionally a sealer, in default of the regular article, will kill them for the sake of the oil, and take some of the hides, for which there is a certain demand for making "machine belting."

Buckley, the master of the _Felis_, told us that he had observed that in the case of the fur seal there was an interval of only one or two weeks between the date of parturition and that of coupling, and that, in the case of the "hair seal," coupling took place almost immediately after the young were brought forth. If this be true, the period of gestation cannot be less than eleven months.

Buckley presented the captain with a young fur seal--a male, six weeks old--which had been caught on the rocks, and nursed carefully by one of his crew, an Italian seaman, who had been "bottle-feeding" it with milk, and had taught it to answer to the call of a whistle. It trotted about our decks in a most lively manner, its hind feet, when trotting or walking, being turned forwards and outwards in the manner peculiar to seals of its genus. On whistling to it, it uttered a strange cry--half wail, half bark--and came to the call like a dog. When taken up in the arms and petted like a child, it lay quite still, closed its eyes and seemed to go off into a gentle sleep. It, unfortunately, died on the following day--perhaps through fretting for its Italian nurse--and its body then came into my hands as a zoological specimen.

Dr. Fenton, whose acquaintance we had made on our first visit just a year previously, was still residing at Sandy Point as medical officer of the settlement, and, with great good nature, put his house and horses at our disposal. He told me of an experiment he had been trying on the flying powers of a condor, which had been caught alive. He perforated the quills of the wing and tail feathers, so as to allow the ingress and egress of air, and on then throwing the bird up in the air found that it could neither fly nor soar. The inference is that the bird derives its buoyancy in a great measure from the formation of a vacuum in the quills of these feathers, and consequently, on air being admitted, the flapping of the wings, unaided by the buoyancy derived from the rarefied air, was insufficient either to raise or support the bird's weight. If this theory be correct, it is probable that the mechanism by which this vacuum is produced is actuated by the wing muscles, which thus discharge a two-fold office.

From the 13th of January to the 25th of March, after leaving Sandy Point, we proceeded to the western part of Magellan Straits, where we were for about nine weeks, occupied in making additions to the old surveys, principally in the narrow and tortuous part of the Strait which is called the "Crooked Reach." The scenery here is remarkably fine, and on a dry clear day--an event, however, of rare occurrence--one can fully realize the truth of old Pigafetta's remark, that "there is not in the world a more beautiful country, or better strait, than this one."

We made several stays, each of a day's duration, at Tilly Bay, a small land-locked anchorage on the north shore of Santa Ines Island, and immediately opposite to the mouth of the Jerome Channel, which leads into the Otway Water. At the head of the bay a stretch of open moorland, dotted here and there with clumps of cedar trees, led by a gentle ascent to a sort of upland plateau, formed of moss-covered undulating land with sheets of still water occupying the hollows. Not a trace of a bird was to be seen, and I was never more struck with the extreme paucity of animal life in the interior of these islands than when standing on the shore of one of these desolate lakes in Santa Ines Island.

We frequently noticed, in the deep spongy moss over which we walked, the nests of a Trap-door Spider. They appeared externally as round apertures in the surface of the moss, about an inch and a half in diameter, which were covered over with a closely woven disc of web. On removing the cover from one of them, and clearing away the surrounding moss, I found that the burrow descended vertically for a distance of about eight inches, and was lined throughout with a silky network of spider web, so that the entire web structure, _i.e._, the tube and lid combined, resembled in general shape some of the commoner forms of _Aspergillum_. At the bottom of the hole lay a great spider, embracing with its legs a spherical cocoon, three-eighths of an inch in diameter, which it seemed resolved on defending to the last extremity. I examined other nests with similar results.

While we were at Tilly Bay, a small party of Fuegians came in and took up their quarters in an old camping place close to the ship. They were a comparatively friendly lot, and had no hesitation about coming on board, especially about our meal hours, which they very soon got to understand. The party consisted of one adult man, a boy aged about seventeen, a woman about nineteen, with four small children, and two or three dogs of the usual kind. The canoe was made of planks, and was of the same build as those which we had seen about the Trinidad Channel. Lying in the bottom of the canoe were the putrid remains of two seals, a sea lion, and a fur-seal, whose heads I obtained. We got on such intimate terms with this family, that little by little we induced them to show us all their properties, even to the much-cherished materials for producing fire. These were kept in a wooden box somewhat of the shape of a small band-box, and made of Winter's bark sewn together roughly with strips of hide. The tinder, which seemed to consist of dried moss, was stowed away carefully in little bags formed of dried seal's intestines tied up at the ends.

I also obtained by barter two very dirty bits of iron pyrites which they used for igniting the tinder, and on striking them together they certainly emitted showers of sparks. The box also contained glass arrow-heads, glass spear-heads, bone harpoon-heads, a noose made of a strip of baleen and apparently intended for trapping otters, and a very strong net made out of seal-hide, which the old man gave us to understand was used for catching seals. The net was nearly square, measuring about six feet both ways, and the meshes were about eight inches across. This last was evidently considered a great work of art, for as the old man displayed it his eyes glittered with pride, and he assumed an air of importance, as if to imply--"See that and die!"

Subsequently two more canoes turned up, bringing a large party of natives, and as I was curious to ascertain the method by which they fashioned their glass implements, I visited the encampment one day, bringing with me an empty pickle bottle, and intimated by signs that I wished to have it broken up and to see a spear-head or arrow-head made. They understood readily enough what was required, and one of the men, coming forward, took hold of the bottle, smashed it against the stones, and selecting a suitable fragment, set to work at it. He held the piece of glass firmly in his left hand, protecting the fingers with a bit of cloth, while, with his right, he grasped a chipping tool, which consisted of a large blunt-pointed iron nail fixed in a stout wooden handle, serving the double purpose of a chipping tool and a means of caulking the seams of the canoe. Holding it with the iron point directed towards his waist, he made steady pressure against the fractured edge of the glass, so as to make small chips flake off from the edge towards the smooth side surface. In effecting this he was able to use great force, because, while the left hand, which held the glass, was supported rigidly against his chest, the manner in which he held the fashioning tool enabled him to bring the whole strength of his wrist to bear upon the edge of the glass. After having bevelled off one side of the edge, he turned the glass round and bevelled the other side in a similar manner. Having once imparted a double bevel to the edge, he was easily able, by operating on each side alternately, to reduce the substance of the margin in any one place until the glass had assumed the outline required. Proceeding in this way, the formation of the barbs and the recessing of the base for the ligature which would secure it to the shaft, were effected to all appearance with the greatest facility. The most difficult part of the business was now the formation of the fine point, as the chipping and flaking had to be conducted with the greatest nicety. However, after half-an-hour's steady work, he triumphantly produced a spear-head two and a half inches long, and of the form shown in the annexed sketch. The arrow-heads are made in the same way, and are about one inch in length.

We had the chipping operation repeated on many subsequent occasions, and by various individuals, and found that all adopted the same method; the essential feature of which was that the fashioning of the glass was effected entirely by _pressure_, and that no _striking_ implement was used. I induced one of the men to try an old flat file, instead of his own chipping instrument, but he soon discarded it; however he found a blunt-edged ship's knife very convenient for giving the finishing touches to the point of the spear-head. With the experience gained from the Fuegians, I soon learnt to turn out very fair imitations of their work; and after practising on various kinds of glass, I found that the easiest to work with was black bottle-glass, and the most difficult plate-glass. Green pickle bottle-glass is about a mean between the two, and as it is tolerably thick the natives prefer it for their spear-heads; but for the arrow-heads they use the black glass. Crown-glass was easy to work, but flaked off in rather short pieces. I also experimented with some black flint, which happened to be on board, and found it could be worked in precisely the same way as the glass, but was certainly more difficult to fashion into shape. Then I tried different kinds of working tools, and soon found, to my surprise, that hard steel was the worst of all, for it scratched and slipped off the edge of the glass without chipping it at all; whereas soft iron, which was much preferable, could be manipulated so that it would bite only the extreme edge of the glass, and by this means very thin and broad flakes could be detached. Even an old bone harpoon-head answered very well indeed, but of course was worn away more rapidly than the soft iron.

One day, when the old man of the first canoe party was on board, and in an amiable mood, I succeeded in getting some Fuegian words from him, a matter often previously attempted in vain. As a rule, they merely repeat--and that most accurately--the gestures or ejaculations which one makes in drawing their attention to any particular object. I brought this old fellow into my workshop, and pointed out to him several objects which I had collected in the straits, and which were sure to be familiar to him. After some time he got fairly hold of the idea, and then became very communicative, eventually giving me the names for all the familiar objects which I could at the time command. I subsequently checked the vocabulary thus obtained, by reversing the process and repeating the words to him, and making him indicate their meaning, and in this way I made certain that my list, small though it was, had at all events the merit of being accurate. In fact, I tested some of the words afterwards on another party of natives, whom we met at Port Gallant, and found that they went off all right.

VOCABULARY OF FUEGIAN WORDS.

_Obtained from natives at Tilly Bay, Straits of Magellan._

Basket (netted) = cheebass. " (plaited) " dawyer. Beard " port. Bottle " kushki. Breast " poan. Calf " kutchoice. Canoe " ayoux. Crab " karabous-kalpers. Deer " halchun. Dog " sharkiss. Ear " hawish. Eye " sthole. Eyebrow " theseoux. Eyelash " thesseriss. Fingers " sthœn. Finger-nails " tharsh. Fish " areous-areersh. Flint " kosil. Foot " kadthakous. Hair " therkous. Hand " therrawaus. Head " iakalus. Ironstone " iuksthaads. Limpet " ithashaquash. Mouse " akraceps. Mussel " chaloux. Necklace " heskouna. Nose " los. Nutria-skull " theerkusthads. Otter-skin " lalthers. Paddle " chetarias. Paroquet " parabas. Sea-egg " kawotchi. Seal-skull " arougsis. Ship's boat " sherroux. Skin of seal " harkusis-hushkei. Spear (for fish) " kip-thatharsh. Spear (for seals) " uäakutsh. Starfish " hiapparoux. Steamer-duck " karawus-poug. Stomach " kutshiss. Stone axe " kesaoux. Teeth " pathers. Thigh " athursh. Tongue " lekiss. Tooth (of seal) " sheriquish. Trumpet-shell " tharagskar. Upland Goose " harrawaloux. Volute-shell " tharaquakorass. Water " nupp.

NAMES OF FUEGIAN CHILDREN AT TILLY BAY.

Alkeress. Ilchabesakodotis. Kelchuarkuss. Gounaco. Gounaco Chikachikis.

We anchored at Port Gallant for three days in the latter end of January, and while we were there a bark canoe came alongside. It was of the kind which King describes as peculiar to the tribe inhabiting the western part of the Magellan Straits, and to whom he assigned the name "Pecherai," from their habit of frequently using that word. The canoe was much smaller and lighter than the plank canoes of the western channels, and was propelled entirely by paddles instead of oars. Two old women, who sat in the stern end, wore cloaks of deer skin, and were very noisy and talkative, so that we did not encourage them to come on board. The basket, in which they carried their stock of shell-fish, was much more elaborately plaited than were those of the "Channel Fuegians." We did not observe any difference in their hunting implements, except that bows and arrows were more abundant with them.

On the 25th, a large iron steamship, the _Maranhense_, came in from the westward and anchored near us. It appeared that about six months previously she had come out from Antwerp, bringing a cargo of arms for the Chilian Government, and that she was now homeward bound, carrying a general cargo. As she was coming down the Messier Channel, she had touched the ground in the English Narrows, and been so much injured in the bows that her collision compartment was full of water. Captain Leadbetter came on board to solicit the services of our diver, which were of course granted; and on an examination being made, it was found that there was a hole in her bows big enough for a man to crawl through. For several days subsequently ineffectual attempts were made to stop it up, and on the 30th of January both vessels moved up to Sandy Point. Here we met a German man-of-war, the _Freia_, whose crew rendered further assistance to the disabled vessel, but all in vain. At length, our diver was sent down to make a complete examination of her bottom, and he came up with the unpleasant news that there was another great hole in her bottom, 7-1/2 feet in length, under the after-hold, that the iron skin and part of the keel had been torn away, and that the cement alone, with which her bottom was lined, prevented the water from coming in. In view now of the possibility of the cement suddenly giving way, and the vessel sinking, steam was got up, the anchor was raised, and she was moved into shallower water further inshore, so that in the event of her sinking, the hull might not be entirely submerged. The master of the _Maranhense_ now decided on sending to Monte Video for artificers and material to repair the bottom, and for a new crank-shaft for her engines, which had also recently come to grief.

On the 9th of February we bade good-bye to the officers of the _Maranhense_, and steamed back to Port Gallant.

Some days subsequently we moved westward to Playa Parda Cove in Crooked Reach, our boats having been meanwhile engaged in charting the coastline.

On February 18th a small party of us made a trip in the steam-cutter from Playa Parda Cove to visit a glacier which is situated about six miles to the eastward. We steamed round to the inlet, which is marked on the chart as Glacier Bay, and moored the cutter under a lofty cliff near the head of the bay. The land here was low and flat, covered with a dense forest, and bounded on either side by precipitous lofty cliffs, whose smooth faces exhibited planings and scorings due to the abrading action of old glaciers. I landed about the middle of the low muddy beach, which extended from cliff to cliff, and proceeded to penetrate the forest in the direction of the glacier. Here I at first found some difficulty in advancing, for after tearing my way through a dense prickly scrub of barberry bushes, I came upon an even more serious obstacle, in the shape of a broad and rapid torrent of mud-coloured water, which it was absolutely necessary to cross. This was one of the streams which flowed from under the glacier. Cautiously feeling my way, and steadying myself against the rushing water, I just managed to get across, finding the process rather cold; and now, after traversing a belt of forest, which was only half a mile in width, but which gave me forty-five minutes hard work, I emerged all at once from the gloomy shade of the beech trees to find my eyes dazzled by a glare of white light, and the foot of the glacier straight before me. The line of trees was separated from the snout of the glacier by a freshly-accumulating terminal moraine, of about one hundred yards in width; and where this moraine adjoined the sharply-defined edge of the forest, its advancing condition was evident from the piles of rubble which were in places shot in among the green trees, and from the overturned condition of many of those on the margin of the forest, as they gave way before the advancing piles of rubbish. It was a strange sight, standing in the middle of this terminal moraine, to see, on the one hand, a fresh evergreen forest abounding in the most delicate ferns and mosses; and, on the other, a huge mass of cold blue-veined ice, which was slowly and irresistibly gouging its passage downwards to the sea. The stones of the moraine were composed of syenite and greenstone, the former predominating, and mixed up with them I saw many trunks of trees, which were crushed, torn, and distorted out of all shape. These were probably the remains of a portion of the forest, which had at one time extended further up the valley, and which had been annihilated by the advance of the glacier; and this circumstance, with the other which I have mentioned, showed clearly that the glacier was now extending its limits and approaching the sea. A few days afterwards, we paid a second visit to Glacier Bay, when a good photo was obtained.

We stayed for a fortnight at Swallow Bay, a port in Crooked Reach, a few miles to the westward of Tilly Bay. It would seem that this locality had been greatly resorted to by the natives for catching fish, for we found several of their "stone weirs," in a more or less perfect state. The places selected for these weirs were usually small smooth-bottomed coves, and the weir, which consists of a sort of dam built of loose stones about three feet high, is placed across the mouth of one of these coves in such a manner, that when it is complete, any fish which may be inside it will be imprisoned. When it is low water, and the cove is almost dry, a gap is left in the centre of the weir through which the fish may enter with the rising tide; at high tide the gap is closed up, so that when the water flows away through the interstices of the dam with the falling tide, the fish remain imprisoned in a shallow pool where they can easily be caught. These shallow mud-bottomed coves are the favourite haunts of the grey mullets, who collect there in great numbers, and who sometimes on bright fine days may be seen resting on the mud with only a few inches of water over them, as they lie apparently basking in the sunshine.

Here, at Swallow Bay, a party of our men captured and brought to me a male specimen of the Magellan nutria, an animal which is abundant throughout the straits and western channels, but which is nevertheless very rarely seen. We had often previously seen its bones in the Fuegian midden heaps, where its skull, with the long curved orange-coloured incisors, was a conspicuous object; but this was the first recent specimen we succeeded in getting hold of. It was started from the brushwood by a retriever dog belonging to the ship, and on taking to the water was killed after a most exciting chase on the part of our bluejackets. It proved to be identical with the Chilian species, _Myopotamus coypu_.