At home with the Patagonians

by George C. Musters

This was written after a visit in the summer month of January, and the picture drawn presents the landscape in its fairest colours; very different from its bleak aspect as viewed by myself in the winter. This valley still bears the name of Los Misionarios, but this is the only existing trace of their settlement. Mr. Schmid, however, during his sojourn and journeys with a party of the Indians, compiled a vocabulary of the Tsoneca language, as spoken by the southern Tehuelches. Their plan for establishing trade at Santa Cruz, in order to secure the regular visits of the Indians, was not approved of by the managers of the mission, and they were obliged to abandon the scene of their praiseworthy but unsuccessful efforts—to instruct at least ‘the little bright-faced Patagonian children,’ of whom they speak in their journals with warm affection.

The counter attractions of rum supplied by a trader who visited the river were felt by Mr. Schmid to be very destructive of his influence, but it cannot be doubted that their store, if established, would have had no chance against any rival that supplied rum to his customers; for though there are many exceptions, the Indians too eagerly expend the spoils of their hunting and industry in liquor. Their wives, however, when they accompany them, take care to manage their business with discretion, and reserve sufficient stock to barter for more useful and innocent luxuries as well as necessaries. There is no doubt that in the event of the future development of this settlement, it might serve as a point d’appui to raise the Tehuelches to the level of a more cultivated and settled mode of existence; but speculations on this point are not within my province, and it is time to introduce the members of the party with whom my winter was agreeably spent on the island of Pabon. With Don Luiz P. Buena and his amiable and accomplished señora I subsequently made acquaintance, which ripened into friendship; but though his guest, I was at present personally unknown to him. In his absence, his representative, Mr. Clarke, who, as already mentioned, was an old acquaintance, did all he could to make me feel at home. He was a handsome young fellow of twenty-five, and an excellent specimen of the versatile and cosmopolitan New Englander, ‘raised’ in Salem, Massachusetts, where he had been brought up as a builder, though he afterwards ‘shipped himself on board of a ship.’ In his nautical life he had been mate of the Snow Squall, in a homeward voyage from Shanghai, when she was chased off the Cape of Good Hope by the Alabama, and but for the pluck of the captain and crew, and the wonderful sailing powers of the craft, another item would have been added to Mr. Adams’s ‘little bill.’ As it was, the beautiful vessel fairly outsailed the swift steamer. The steadiness of the crew, and their well-deserved attachment to the captain, were most strongly proved on this occasion. As there was no alternative between putting in for water at St. Helena—where it was too probable the Alabama would pounce upon the prize—and running home upon half a pint per diem each man, the captain left it to the crew to decide, and they chose the latter course.

Mr. Clarke had spent three months travelling and hunting in company with the Tehuelches, which had made him a most expert hand with lazo or bolas, and well acquainted with the Indian character; and it was pleasant to hear that he entertained a very high opinion of their intelligence and generous dispositions. He treated them with fairness and considerate kindness, and they repaid him by confidence and friendship.

Five other employés made up the rest of our party. No social distinctions, however, prevailed, and the inhabitants of Pabon lived in pleasant equality. The charge of the dogs and horses, and the duty of supplying meat, devolved on two: Gonzalez, a gaucho, a native of Patagones, who was as much at home in the schooner on a sealing excursion, as in the saddle balling an ostrich; and Juan Isidoro, a swarthy little man whose sparkling black eyes told of his Indian blood, a native of Santiago del Estero; he had been sent as a soldier to Rio Negro, whence he had managed to desert, and make his way with Orkeke’s Indians to the settlement. Next comes Juan Chileno, a bright, fresh-complexioned youth of nineteen years, to look at whom was refreshing, after the swarthy and weather-beaten physiognomies of the others. Then Antonio, a Portuguese, by turns gaucho, whaler, or sealer, always ready with a song or a merry jest, and on occasion equally quick with his knife. Holstein furnished the last, but by no means least important; a strong-built, good-natured, rather stupid fellow, generally selected as the butt of the rest, who always styled him ‘El Cookè,’ a sobriquet earned by his many voyages in that capacity on board various ships. Curiously enough he proved to possess information on a topic to me of great interest, as he had been one of a party which, about a year previous to my visit, had ascended the river Santa Cruz to its source. The expedition was organised by an American well acquainted with the Californian mining, who proposed to explore the mineral resources of the valley. Unfortunately, during the ascent of the river, a quarrel broke out, and the American left the others, and found his way alone to the Indians, thence returning to Santa Cruz. The loss of the only man capable of scientific observation rendered their journey almost useless; still the party proceeded, and about midsummer reached the lake, near which they remained some days, but were unable to penetrate the thick forests beyond its shores. In the valley they found meat tins and other traces of Fitzroy’s expedition. El Cookè described the river as running from the lake in many small streams, and flowing over a rocky bed. The lake, which was covered with wild fowl, had floating ice upon it, and large glaciers were visible in the neighbouring mountains, while the weather experienced was cold, with continuous drizzling rain. His account confirmed my own conjectures as to the cause of the great difference between the periods of the highest floods in the Rio Gallegos, which is at its height in December and January, and the Santa Cruz, which is then at its lowest. This is owing to the lateness of the period at which the ice breaks up in the lake Viedma, situated, as it probably is, on a high plateau. About the lake the explorers found traces of herds of large deer, and always in close proximity those of a large fox or wolf, but they did not succeed in killing any. A specimen of the only mineral brought back appeared to be iron pyrites embedded in quartz. The journey from the lake to the settlement would require eleven days for baggage horses, but could be performed by horsemen within four. Of course the information was not too clear or reliable, but El Cookè, though not brilliant, seemed to possess the Northern quality of telling the truth, by the absence of which the Southern and Indian natures are, to say the least of it, often characterised. El Cookè was fond of hard work, and his greatest enjoyment was to set out in search of fuel, and lay on with his axe in a way that would have done honour to a Canadian lumberer, but was sadly thrown away on the incense bushes of Santa Cruz.

All these men, who had drifted together from various quarters, and, if truth be told, had all ‘run,’ for obvious reasons, from their own homes, worked by turns at hunting, trading, sealing, and raising salt from the Salina. They received a fixed salary, which, however, generally proved to be balanced by an account with the store for clothes, &c. In sealing expeditions all went shares, like our own mackerel and herring fishermen; while for working at the Salina, extra pay was given and well earned, especially at this time, since it involved sleeping out in the open for several successive nights, and that in a Patagonian May. Such were the companions of my residence at Pabon, besides whom more than a score of dogs of all sorts slept anyhow and anywhere, and followed anybody, giving their masters the preference.

A short time after our arrival, Mr. Clarke took stock of the stores of provision, which could not be replenished until the return of the schooner. The result was that the amount of biscuits and sugar was found to be about equal to a month’s consumption. These articles were accordingly divided into equal portions, and each man received his share, to husband or improvidently use, according to his bent. There was abundance of coffee, black beans, tobacco, and maize, which accordingly were used at discretion. The next thing was to accumulate a good stock of fuel before the snow should render it difficult, if not impossible, to transport it.

Every Sunday all hands except one—the cook of the week—left on guard, went hunting, and, as occasion required, during the week, the gauchos would proceed to supply the larder with guanaco or ostrich, the latter being, however, rare. Idleness was unknown; when not hunting, wood-cutting, or salt-raising, manufactures were the order of the day. We picked stones and worked them round for bolas, and covered them with the hide stripped from the hock of the guanaco, the soga or thong connecting the balls being made from the skin of the neck, the method of obtaining it being as follows:—The head having been cut off, and an incision made just above the shoulder, the skin is dragged off in one piece; and after the wool has been picked off, is softened by hand and carefully cut into strips, which are closely plaited. Of this leather we also made serviceable bridles, lazos, stirrup-leathers, and, in fact, horse-gear generally. Sometimes we would have a fit of making pipes, and all hands would be busy sawing out wood or hard at work boring the bowls; at others, spurs were the rage, made by the simple Indian method of sticking sharpened nails into two pieces of wood, secured together by thongs fastened under the foot and round the leg; or again, we would work silver, and come out with our knife-sheaths glittering with studs. On non-hunting days, I invariably practised the use of the bolas, and caught almost every shrub on the island.

The evenings were passed in playing the American game of brag. Cash being unknown, and no one being disposed to risk the loss of his gear, the stakes were simply so many black beans to a box of matches; and as much excitement prevailed as if each bean or perota had been a five-dollar piece.

Both in our hunting parties and in the house which he had been allowed to occupy, though he occasionally visited the camp on the Chico, I sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of Casimiro. Both the missionaries and Her Majesty’s surveyors have made frequent, and often by no means honourable, mention of this Indian, who has always evinced a wish to conciliate the friendship of the English visitors to Patagonia. His history, as I learned it from himself, was a very curious one, and aptly illustrates the conflicting claims of Chilians and Argentines, and the confused politics of the Indians themselves, his father having been killed in an engagement with the Araucanian or Manzaneros Indians. His mother was a Tehuelche: being an inveterate drunkard, whilst visiting the settlements of Rio Negro she bartered the child for a cask of rum to the governor of the fort, a Frenchman named Viba, who was connected with the slave-trade, for at that period Indians seem to have been made slaves of as well as blacks. Viba had Casimiro christened—whence his name Casimiro Viba—and brought up at the Estancia, or sheep-farm, where he learnt to speak Spanish fluently. When thirteen years old he ran away and rejoined the Tehuelches Indians, with whom he remained in obscurity for some years, until being in the Southern district, near the Chilian colony of Port Famine, he gained the friendship of one Santorin, a native of Patagones, who had been taken captive by the Indians, but having adopted their manners and customs, and marrying one of the tribe, had risen to the position of a chief. Together these two performed a voyage to Chili, to negotiate with the Government in some matters regarding the protection of Port Famine from Indian raids. Santorin died during the voyage, but Casimiro was well received at Santiago by the then President, Señor Bulnés,[3] loaded with honours, and given the rank, pay, and rations of captain in the army. He then returned to Port Famine, where he resided, off and on, for some time. By his own account, he was absent on a hunting excursion when the émeute took place which resulted in the destruction of the colony. The old wandering habits appeared to have taken possession of him, for he subsequently returned to the Rio Negro, and having entered the service of the Buenos Ayrean Government, again proceeded to the South. During this time he resided occasionally with the missionaries, during their journey in the South, and at their station at Santa Cruz, and entrusted to them his two sons for the purpose of education. The missionaries soon discovered that his objects were purely selfish, and that he had no idea of allowing others to participate in the advantages they could offer; and I am afraid that the labour and cost bestowed on the boys were thrown away, as neither of them appeared to have profited much by their chances. Sam, indeed, could still sing a hymn if there were grog to the fore, and had a lively recollection of material advantages, often saying, ‘He was good man, give me gun,’ &c. But the youngest, ‘Graviel,’ who also understood a little English, was one of the laziest of the lazy, and had very undefined notions as to meum and tuum, as personal experience taught me.

In 1865 Casimiro made a voyage to Buenos Ayres, where the Government on this occasion recognised him as head chief of the Tehuelches, and assigned him the rank and pay of Lieut.-Colonel in the Argentine Army. He was then despatched, in company with an Argentine named Mendoza, to form a settlement at Gregorio Bay. They travelled by land as far as Santa Cruz, at which place Mendoza disappeared, being supposed to have lost himself, but in reality having been killed by an Indian, jealousy being, I believe, the cause of the murder. With his right-hand man gone, Casimiro abandoned himself to drinking, a habit which, as Mr. Cunningham mentions, he had before acquired—perhaps by hereditary development—and ultimately became reduced to the state of poverty in which I found him, owning but two horses for himself, his wife, daughter, and son, with hardly any gear. Indeed, he would have been reduced to great straits but for the kindness of Don Luiz and Mr. Clarke, who, for old acquaintance sake, helped him as much as possible; though his habitual drunkenness made it useless to give him anything valuable whilst there was liquor to be had, as he would exchange anything for drink. As it was my object to have a friend in camp, I made friends with him, and tried to induce him to go north to the Rio Negro, which he at length agreed to do, although he was in great fear of getting into trouble about the loss or death of Mendoza. This man when sober was quick and intelligent, and a shrewd politician. His extensive connections by marriage with all the chiefs, including Rouke and Calficura