Closely allied in habits to the Alaculoofs are the Indians inhabiting the islands about Cape Horn and northward to Beagle Channel. These are called Yahgans. They have been the most numerous and the most powerful of the Fuegian people, but to-day they too are nearly extinct. They are dwarfed in stature, dwarfed in mental development and, like the Alaculoofs, live in canoes and feed upon the products of the sea.
The third tribe is a race of giants. They are called Onas by their neighbours, the Yahgans. The Onas have, thus far, evaded all efforts at civilisation, have refused missionaries, and have, to the present time, with good reason, persistently mistrusted white men. They have in consequence remained unknown.
The homes of the Onas are on the main island of Tierra del Fuego. For centuries they have fought to keep this as their preserve; but the Yahgans have been allowed to pitch their tents on the southern coastal fringe along Beagle Channel. In a like manner the Alaculoofs have been permitted to use the shore-line of the west. Neither the Yahgans nor the Alaculoofs, however, nor white men, until very recently, have dared venture into the interior. The great prairies of the north and the mountain forests of the middle of the island, with the still unknown lakes, have been guarded as hunting-ground exclusively for the Onas. The island is nearly as large as the State of New York. The boundary-line of Chile and Argentina, running from north to south through the centre of the island, gives each republic a nearly equal share of the country. Gold has been found in the sands along the beach of various parts of the land. This is being mined with considerable success. The pampas of the north and a part of the southern ground have proved to be some of the best sheep-farming country of the world. The gold-diggers and the sheep-farmers have thus re-discovered Tierra del Fuego as they have Patagonia. The mining camps and the wire fences are crowding the once ruling race of Onas into the useless forest-covered lowlands and the ice-covered highlands of the interior, where they must either starve or freeze or perish at the hands of Caucasian invaders. The old happy hunting-ground of the Ona has gone the way of all other Indian homes; but he has fought bravely for it, and he will continue to do so until the last skeleton is left to bleach on the wind-swept pampas.
The first sheep-farm was started here by Mr. Steubenrach, the British Consular agent, Punta Arenas. Steubenrach, anticipating trouble with the powerful Onas, who have always been the dread of white settlers in this vicinity, secured, as one of his shepherds, a missionary to preach the gospel and morality and some other things to the Indians. This mission service was a diplomatic stroke which was thought to be the most effective way of gaining the favour of the Chilean Government; which favour was a valuable aid in obtaining grants of land. It was also thought possible by this method to tame the aborigines and make shepherds of them. The good preacher tried to Christianise and civilise the Indians. During the day they congregated in large numbers to hear the new medicine-man. They were indeed interested; but they proved their interest in an unexpected manner. At night, when all was quiet and the shepherds were asleep, with confidence in the effect of their pious training upon the Indians, the wild hunters came among the herds, cut the wire fences, and drove off such numbers as suited their appetites. These night raids continued month after month, but the Indians came in fearlessly in increasing numbers to listen to the gospel pow-wows. At length, driven to distraction, the prospective makers of Christians sent to Punta Arenas for Winchester rifles. Preaching was then abandoned, and the murderous sound of firearms has taken its place ever since. The wire fences have been extended, the Winchesters have been multiplied, every available acre of Fuegian ground has been covered with sheep, while the Indians, never known and never understood, have been swept from their ancient homes.
In defence of the pioneers it should be said that the Indians from the first have waged a constant and relentless warfare. A mutual understanding has at no time seemed possible, and if the settlers would follow their business a vigorous defence was necessary. In spite of the destructive onslaughts of the Indians, however, the farms have flourished so well that to-day the number of sheep raised individually and collectively by the Fuegian rancheros is perfectly astonishing. There is one farm not yet quite stocked which will support six hundred thousand sheep. The profit over and above all expenses averages about fifty cents annually for each animal. This would give, for a farm of moderate size, a clear gain of $50,000 yearly, which is certainly a princely income for a farmer. The proprietors of these ranches are mostly men of large finances, who live in luxury and comfort in the cities of South America and Europe.
The Onas, as a tribe, have never been united in a common interest, nor have they ever been led by any one great chief. They have always been divided into small clans, under a leader with limited powers, and these chiefs have waged a constant warfare among themselves. Up to the present they have had their worst enemies among their own people, but now that sheep-farmers and gold-diggers want their country, they are uniting to fight their common enemy. But this enemy, these white men with Winchesters, will be their doom.
The Ona population, is at present about sixteen hundred, divided into sixteen tribes of about one hundred each. From this number there is a constant diminution. Many of the children have been taken from their wild homes bordering on the sheep-farms, and placed in European families about Punta Arenas. These children thrive well at first, and are capable of considerable education, but few reach adult age. The minor children’s diseases, such as measles and whooping-cough, are extremely fatal to them, and those who escape other diseases are almost certain to succumb to tuberculosis. For a number of years the Indians, watching the encroachment of white men upon their territory, have made it as uncomfortable as possible for the intruders. To bag a settler was quite as much sport as to secure game, and the white men in return have shot Indians with as much elation as if they were dropping panthers. Killing has been in vogue on both sides, but the battle is uneven. The Indian must vanish before the lead of Christians—such is the mission of modern civilisation.
Migration from one part of the island to another, and from one clan to another, has been common, but the Ona has seldom left his chosen land. A few have been found in Patagonia, and occasionally one has strayed over among the Yahgans and the Alaculoofs; but these have only been stragglers who, by accident, have been separated from the main island. The Onas possess no canoes with which to cross the Strait of Magellan, or the canals south and west; but they barter with the other Indians along Beagle Channel and the west, and within recent years they have extended these trading operations to the white settlers along the south. The men have a great admiration for women of other tribes, and this admiration induces them to make raids among the other tribes to capture women. So much was this done in the past that in the south-eastern part of the island there sprang up a new race, a hybrid mixture of Yahgans and Onas; but these are now extinct.
Physically the Onas are giants. They are not, however, seven or eight feet in height, as the early explorers reported their neighbours and nearest relatives, the Patagonians, to be. Their average height is close to six feet, a few attain six feet and six inches, and a few are under six feet. The women are not quite so tall, but they are more corpulent. There is, perhaps, no race in the world with a more perfect physical development than the Ona men. This unique development is due to the topography of their country and the distribution of game, which makes long marches constantly necessary. The Ona men are certainly the greatest cross-country runners on the American continent.
The mental equipment of the Ona is by no means equal to his splendid physical development. He understands very well the few arts of chase which he finds necessary to maintain a food-supply. His game in the past has been easily gotten; his needs have been few, which fact accounts for the lack of inventive skill displayed in his instruments of chase. The home-life, the house, the clothing,—everything portrays this lack of progressive skill. Instead of the children being well dressed and well cared for, as is the rule among savage races, they are mostly naked, poorly fed, badly trained, and altogether neglected, not because of a lack of paternal love, but because of the mental lethargy of the people. It is the same as to shelter and the garments. They have abundant material to make good tents and warm, storm-proof houses; but they simply bunch up a few branches, and throw to the windward a few skins, and then shiver, complaining of their miserable existence.