LXXVII.
Steamship Winfield Scott, Pacific Coast, March 17, 1852.
When I last wrote you I think I was returning from Monte Video to Rio Janeiro, to obtain a passage in a new steamer which was expected out from England, designing to continue my voyage through the Straits of Magellan, and up to Chili, but I found myself disappointed. Soon after this, the arrival of the noble ship from which I now write gave me an excellent opportunity to do so, being well commanded, and having accommodations for six hundred California passengers, while we are but two in number. The detention at Rio, on my second visit, gave me the advantages, or rather the annoyances, of the Carnival season, as it is there conducted. For three days from twelve at noon until night, it was unsafe to appear in the streets, where you ran the risk of being drenched with water, the contents of colored wax balls of the appearance of lemons, thrown by ladies, gentlemen, and children; in fact, all classes entered into the sport, from the doors and balconies across the streets. The Carnival commenced on Sunday, Washington’s birthday, and for three days business was mostly suspended. I had taken a social and quiet dinner in the suburbs with our minister, under the protection of a large and magnificent star-spangled banner, recently received, and floating in remembrance of the Father of his Country, to whom we are so much indebted for gifts possessed by no other people. In returning my vehicle had to run the gauntlet amid the showers of lemon balls. Theatres were crowded with masquerades, which I did not attend; having looked in upon them, however, the evening previous, which was the commencement, I found thousands of spectators occupying the boxes, and a multitude dancing with a violence that I had scarcely ever seen in cold latitudes. Prior to the Carnival they had an annual ball for charitable purposes, to which I was invited. It was given in an immense building in the centre of a long inclosure called the Garden of Paradise, but it appeared to me more like a Purgatory. Several thousand persons were present, to whom every variety of iced refreshments were offered; the extreme heat of the saloon, which was nearly one hundred degrees, and the ridiculous costume of the gentlemen (black coats and pants) oppressed me so much that I was induced to leave at an early hour. The ladies wore more dresses of rose and pink than of white, which appeared to add to the heat, and were sparkling with diamonds more attractive than their persons, but less diversified in complexion, the Portuguese race not being remarkable for beauty, while the color here is much mixed.
Our ship, which is about twelve hundred tons burden, took in eight hundred tons of coal and put to sea, and at the expiration of four days and a half we found ourselves at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, with muddy water and no soundings, two hundred miles from shore, which shows the force of this river. We saw nothing of interest along the coast, except immense flocks of aquatic birds, opposite the Guano Islands. At the termination of nine days and a half we were in Lat. 52° south, at the entrance of the Straits, Cape Virgin at the north, and forty miles wide. The cold having increased gradually, we had made accession of clothing, and put up a stove two days before. Our steamer hove to off the cape, and we entered by daylight, with a cold, strong head-wind; the banks were from one hundred and sixty to two hundred and fifty feet in height; large numbers of walruses or sea-cows basked in the sun, and many birds of large size flew foolishly in and through the rigging. Guanacoes and ostriches are seen on the Patagonia shores, and the country appears dreary and barren.
I became interested as the scenery improved in grandeur and majesty, and occupied a place in the pilot-house, being well muffled up in overcoat and cloak; still it was cold and cheerless, and I could not avoid reflecting upon the inconveniences of a shipwreck. The first narrows dividing the Patagonian coast from Terra del Fuego are about nine miles long, and one mile and a half wide, with strong tide ripples, and we can see distinctly the two shores; the water is of a greenish river color, but quite salt. The Indians, of whom some few are seen, trade for beads, petty trinkets, liquor, ammunition and lead, of which they make balls, and with which, attached to the ends of cords, they entangle the legs of the ostriches. In the afternoon of the day we entered we had passed the second narrows, with Elizabeth Island in view, in an open bay, when we espied the first small sail, and supposed it to be some man of war’s boat, cruizing with the French flag, bearing down for us. We were heading off and should have passed her, had we not accidentally observed the tri-colored flag half-mast, when we altered our course and came up. We discovered a French lieutenant clapping his hands with joy, and crying out in his native tongue, “We are shipwrecked!” When shall I forget the scene of excitement and ecstasy manifested by himself and his six men composing the crew, as well as ourselves, on learning their condition, and being the means of saving them? His launch was twenty-one feet in length, and six feet wide, with mainsail and jib; it contained his supplies of red wine, salt-beef, and biscuit, but was leaky, and kept two men bailing; they could not have lived twenty-four hours longer. The facts are these: The French brig of war, Entreprenant, coming from the Pacific on her way to the Falkland islands, had entered a false bay, of which there are many, and the constant westerly winds resisted every effort of her crew of one hundred and thirty-five men to get her out; they were surrounded by mountains of snow and ice, without any chance of escape. At the expiration of eleven days, the launch started in pursuit of relief to Port Famine, a penal settlement, and the only habitable neighborhood along the straits. On arriving there they found that the convicts had risen and massacred the governor and other officers, and escaped, after hanging and burning the captain and owner of an English brig and an American three-masted schooner, taking possession of the vessels and all the treasure obtainable. The only recourse for the launch was to continue with the wind towards the Atlantic, when fortunately we met and saved them from a frightful death. The lieutenant explained to me the position of his ship, which I interpreted to our commander, who readily consented to go in pursuit of her. The next day we discovered a sail, and heard the discharge of guns, and found it to be the brig of war, which had just emerged from the bay, after an imprisonment of eighteen days. A perfect calm had enabled them, a desperate effort of their oarsmen, to tow her eight miles out into the strait, when the commander, Count Pouget, espied us, and expressed his obligations, sending a letter to the French Commodore at Valparaiso, requesting me to call upon him personally with the Captain, and to receive his thanks. The two ships parted amid the general rejoicing of all parties.
We had a cold but beautiful sail through scenery of the most majestic and romantic character, mountains rising from two thousand five hundred to three thousand feet in height, with jagged forms and snow-clad, with the gilding of the sun’s rays upon them.
There are various kinds of scenery as you pass west. Sometimes the peaks resemble those about Rio, high and conical; I almost imagined myself among the ice-mountains of Switzerland, and then again, in the scanty undergrowth of some localities, in Norway. With the strong westerly winds in some parts, the stunted trees rise from the sheltered side of rocks to a level with the summit, and seem as if cut and trimmed off at the top, and all the branches extend towards the east. The mountains rise in succession, retreating as you approach the ocean, the influence of the salt-air melting the snow and bringing down avalanches, while those in the rear are constantly white, and those on the margin are of grey granite in layers. On the shores of South Desolation we descried the smoke and fire of the Fuegean Indians, who came off in bark canoes, making signals with seal skins; the men, women, and children, notwithstanding the severe atmosphere about us, were nearly in a state of nature. The distance through the straits from Cape Virgin to Cape Pillar is two hundred and seventy miles, the most southern point being Cape Froward, in Latitude fifty-four south; our distance from Rio Janeiro to Valparaiso will be three thousand and six hundred miles, and the views through the passage are certainly among the most rough, wild, desolate, and exciting in the world. When the California trade first opened, many small vessels passed through, but now the clippers have replaced them, and a sail is rarely seen.
We had fine weather until we approached the Pacific entrance at Cape Pillar, which is a singular rock or column, five hundred feet high, when a heavy gale of wind, with a strong current from the west, set in, bringing in tremendous seas, which nothing but the immense power of steam could resist; the smallest accident in the machinery must have dashed the vessel on the rocks. The qualities of the ship have now been fully tried, and nobly has she conducted herself for three boisterous days, with but slight damage to the wood-work about the guards. She rode the billows handsomely, through a perfect white sea of foam, and rarely have I seen or enjoyed more grand and majestic waves. During the squalls we had some magnificent rainbows, which appeared to approach the ship in circular form, like colossal wheels, until almost within grasp. We also saw large numbers of albatross, with wings measuring from eight to ten feet from tip to tip, and with two joints, which gives them the most graceful motion as they skim over the waves.
My travelling companion from the Bay State is making his first voyage, and has suffered intense agony of mind for fear we should be lost. He says he has already seen the tusks of the “elephant” off Cape Pillar, and for two nights he did not close his eyes in sleep, as he thought every moment we should be capsized by the heavy roll of the waves; I, however, had full confidence in the ship and officers. My friend says he must try to get home by land, as the value of the ship and cargo would be no inducement to him to pass through the same scenes again. The weather is now clear, the winds are hushed, the sea is smooth, the nights are brilliant, with the white Magellan cloud in the heavens, as an index for the mariner, and the weather is becoming warm and pleasant. We have passed Ascension, and are now approaching Valparaiso, where I shall leave the steamer and proceed after a few days to Santiago, the capital of Chili, ninety miles in the interior.