The first penal colony planted in the Straits by the Chilian Government was established in 1843, at Port Famine, the ominous name of which recalls the miserable fate of the colonists left there by Sarmiento in 1581. The superior anchorage was the inducement to select the same place for the modern colony, but the same evil destiny seemed to cling to it. After struggling on for some years, during which the inhabitants were frequently reduced to great distress by the failure of supplies of food from Chili, it was sacked and destroyed by the convicts, who mutinied and killed the Governor and Padre. They afterwards seized a vessel in which they attempted to escape, but were pursued by a man-of-war, and met with deserved punishment.
The colony was subsequently removed to its present position, and in addition to the involuntary immigrants, chiefly deserters from the army, settlers were tempted by liberal grants of land, and a large number of Chilotes or natives of Chiloe were introduced. These men, who are of mixed Spanish and Indian blood, are a hardy, sturdy race, accustomed to the use of the axe in their own thickly-wooded country, whence they export quantities of timber. They are very Paddies in their diet, living almost altogether on potatoes, which grow freely in Chiloe, but in Punta Arenas do not attain large size. Besides land, the Chilotes receive wages from the Government for their labour, and are the most industrious portion of the population: the men are hard working, but also hard drinking, and the women are said to be very lax in their notions of fidelity. Of the convicts, some were allowed, for good behaviour, to live in their own houses, subject to certain restrictions; but many of them were utterly reckless, and needed to be kept under the strictest surveillance, and locked up in the Cuartel every night. Notwithstanding all precautions, escapes are continually contrived, and the runaways face the difficulties of the Pampas, sometimes succeeding in joining the Patagonians, but as often losing their way, and perishing of starvation, or becoming a prey to the pumas. Thus, ten or a dozen had succeeded in escaping just before my visit, necessitating the despatch of the expedition in chase of them. The garrison consisted of some fifty or sixty regular soldiers, besides irregular employés, who hunt wild cattle or deserters, as occasion requires. The number of troops is quite insufficient to defend the place against an attack of the Indians, but the southern Tehuelches are not naturally inclined to raids, and if well and fairly treated are more willing to avail themselves of the trading facilities afforded by the half-dozen stores, the existence of which could only, in my mind, be accounted for by the hopes of Indian barter, for they were far in excess of the wants of the colony. Still the permanent population was certainly a thirsty one, and seemed to do its best to encourage trade, at least in grog: drunkenness in the streets is, however, an offence punishable by imprisonment, and at the time of my visit the blacksmith was in durance vile, whence the Irish Doctor had only just been released for this venial offence.
There appeared to be little cultivation, with the exception of potatoes. The climate does not permit wheat or barley to ripen, though, perhaps, oats or rye might succeed. The tame cattle seemed to me stunted and miserable, but in the forests there are others of a wild breed, which are said to be large and of excellent quality; these, as well as the red deer, afford, during some portion of the year, occupation to a few hunters, who obtain high prices for their meat, but the supply is too scanty and irregular to prevent fresh meat from being a rare luxury. The resources and prospects of the colony naturally formed the subject of conversation at Señor Viel’s, and Don Centeno, who was in charge of the survey of the newly-discovered coal bed in the vicinity, invited me to join him the next day in a visit of inspection.
Next morning we accordingly set out, and crossing a small stream, shortly arrived at the commencement of the forest, through which a straight road was in course of formation. Numerous groups of Chilotes were employed on all sides, some levelling the way already cleared, others at work felling trees, others applying fire instead of the axe. The timber consists chiefly of Chilian beech (Fagus antarctica) and Winter’s bark, described by Mr. Cunningham, the former of which splits readily and is available for most purposes.
After Don Centeno had completed some minor details of surveying, we struck into the dense forest, and followed a winding path until we arrived at the bed of the stream, which debouches at the colony. This we followed up for some time, and eventually arrived at a ravine, the sides of which were as regular as if navvies had been employed to form a cutting, in which, at a point sixty yards above our heads, the seam of coal was visible. Here we dismounted and scrambled up a slippery path to a spot where a shaft, or rather burrow, had been driven into the bed, to the depth of perhaps fifty or sixty feet, made apparently for the purpose of examining the quality, regularity, &c., of the seam. The coal did not appear to me of a very good quality; but I have since heard that it gave exceedingly favourable results. My companion also pointed out to me a place in the opposite bank where some men had been washing for gold, the specimens of which I had seen in the town; and their labours were said to have been attended with good returns. As the day was advancing and rather chilly, a fire was kindled; and after a warm thereat, mounting our horses, we returned homewards down the ravine. On emerging from the forest, we observed a large steamer just on the point of anchoring; so we hurried on to obtain news and despatch our letters if it should prove the Magalhaens—one of the line of packets from Liverpool to Valparaiso. On the beach we found the Commandante and Mrs. Viel, the latter having visited the vessel and obtained some English newspapers. After dinner, accepting the Governor’s offer of his boat, I proceeded on board, and found her to be a magnificent steamer of great power and good accommodation. The establishment of this line of steamers will doubtless have a most beneficial effect on the prosperity of Punta Arenas; as, though agriculture and Indian trade are not likely to reward industrious or speculative immigrants, the discovery of the coal-bed is of the most obvious importance as affecting the future of this colony. It will now be possible to maintain powerful steam-tugs to tow sailing-vessels through the Straits, and thus avoid the passage round Cape Horn; whereas up to the present time the navigation of the Straits has been almost closed to sailing-ships; while, owing to the great steam-power required, even steamers, whether war or merchant ships, are frequently obliged to buy wood at Sandy Point; and then, owing to the vast quantity used to keep steam, not unfrequently are obliged to stop again before entering the Pacific to renew their supply wherever they could cut it. Now this will all be changed, and a steam-launch will probably be kept to tow the lighters to and fro, and thus materially facilitate coaling. As population and colonisation increase, encouraged by the accommodation afforded by the Pacific steamers—which at this present date run every month, bringing the Straits of Magellan almost within hail—the interior of the country may become opened up, in which case, probably, other sources of mineral wealth will be discovered and made productive.
Our departure having been definitely fixed for the morrow, I proceeded to review and arrange my equipments for the journey, a list of which may gratify intending explorers of Patagonia. Two saddle-bags contained my kit and necessaries, consisting of a couple of shirts and a jersey or two, a few silk handkerchiefs, and soap, lucifer matches, writing materials, fishing lines and hooks, quinine and caustic, and a small bottle of strychnine. The armoury comprised a rifle in case complete, and two double-barrelled breech-loading pistols, hunting-knives, a small ammunition-case of unfilled cartridges, and a supply of powder. The only instrument ventured on was a small compass. My personal equipment was a shooting suit of tweed and a Scotch cap, and a most excellent pair of boots made by Thomas, to which for comfort were superadded a guanaco skin mantle, two ponchos, and a waterproof sheet. In the evening Señor Viel introduced me to my future travelling companion, Lieutenant Gallegos, who was to command our party. He was a short, thick-set man, with a dark, almost Indian complexion, and looked all over what the Commandante declared him to be, ‘a man for hard work.’ In his native province of Arauco he had been for many years employed in the frontier wars with the Indians, and could handle the lazo or the lance with wonderful dexterity. He spoke with great cordiality of the officers of the Nassau, and seemed well inclined to the company of one of the same service; indeed, I am strongly inclined to believe that he is introduced into the foreground of Commander Bedwell’s sketch—at all events, if any reader wishes to know his appearance, the occupant of the fallen tree presents a strong resemblance to the leader of our party. Our arrangements and prospects were fully discussed; and after bidding farewell to Captain Cushing, who was to sail the next day, and to my most kind and courteous host and hostess, we parted, agreeing to meet at daylight ready for the road.
At an early hour of the morning of the 19th of April I was awoke by J’aria, and with him and my small belongings proceeded to the Corral, where the horses were being caught and loaded. Here we were joined by Gallegos, and when everything was nearly ready for the start adjourned to his house close by for a cup of coffee. The Señora seemed to regard me with great commiseration, and recounted various dismal tales of the dreadful cold winds, hardships, Indians, and other disagreeables to be encountered; her consolations were cut short by the entrance of J’aria with the news that all was ready. After a parting glass of something stronger than water, we got into our saddles, and the cavalcade, consisting of Gallegos, myself, one regular soldier, three irregulars or employés of the Government, and J’aria, with twenty-one horses, left the town. As we passed the cuartel, the guard turned out in the balcony and presented arms, and the bugler executed a musical salute. It was a fine frosty morning, and we rode on in high spirits, accompanied by two or three horsemen, who were going to spend their Sunday festa in duck shooting, and had made an early start to escort us a little way. Scarcely had we crossed the stream when one of the baggage horses kicked his load off; this was soon replaced; but when the bustle was over and the cavalcade reformed, J’aria and one of the employés, to whom I had confidingly entrusted a bottle of rum, were missing, and they did not turn up again for some time, and the bottle never again. We rode along the coast until we reached the outpost called Tres Puentes, where a narrow pass, between the forest on one hand and the sea on the other, is barred by a gate house tenanted by two men, posted there to prevent desertion; they turned out, and we lingered for a farewell chat, during which one of the sportsmen stalked and shot some ducks; at the report of his gun the regular soldier’s horse, not being used to stand fire, shied and threw him, capsizing his saddle-bags, and strewing the beach with tortillas (cakes) and coffee, with which his no doubt provident and thoughtful ‘she’ had stored them. Gallegos sat in his saddle and laughed at the scene; but as the others could not catch the horse, he gave us a proof of his dexterity with the lazo. After this little diversion we pursued our course along the beach as far as Cape Negro, where the forests terminated, and our accompanying friends bade us adieu after taking a parting glass all round; J’aria and the other absentee overtaking us in time for this part of the performance.
Our horses’ heads were then turned from the coast in a north north-west direction, and after half-an-hour’s ride a halt was called for breakfast under the lee of a sheltering hill. To the southward we viewed the counter slope of the wooded hills, below which on the other side lay Punta Arenas. A thick growth of shrubs covered the ground, but beautiful glades of luxuriant pasture were visible; one of which opened just to the south of our camping place, and others appeared east and west like oases of green. Their appearance caused me to remark that as a settler I should choose this location for my hut. Gallegos, however, replied that the pastures could not be used for the cattle of the settlement during the summer, as neither the Indians nor their own men could be trusted; the latter would desert, and the former would steal the beasts. After a pipe we remounted, and having crossed the hill we descended to the valley of a small but deep stream, called the Rio Chaunco, having forded which we ascended the opposite border slope, and entered on the Pampa, which name is universally used in Patagonia to designate the high undulating plains or plateaux, frequently intersected by valleys and ravines, or rising into successive or isolated hills, which generally occupy the crest of the country. The Indians, indeed, who know a little Castilian, apply the word Pampa indiscriminately to any tract of country hunted over by them. After a successful day’s sport, and the contentment consequent on a hearty meal, they will ask with great satisfaction, ‘Muy buena Pampa? No?’ really meaning ‘Is not the wild life the best?’ But English readers, who have derived their idea of a Pampa from Head’s delightful work, or from other experiences of the unlimited grassy or thistle covered plains which roll away for miles in the Argentine States, and offer no obstruction to the stretching gallop of the untiring gaucho, must not transfer that pleasing picture to Patagonia. The Pampas, properly so called, of Patagonia, occasionally indeed present a tolerably even and uniform succession of rolling plains covered with coarse grass, but more frequently the surface, even when unbroken by hills and suddenly yawning ravines, is sterile, with a sparse vegetation, consisting of stunted bushes and round thistle clumps; and even these are often wanting, and nothing clothes the bare patches of clay or gravel; elsewhere it is strewn with huge round boulders, and again rugged with confused heaps or ridges of bare sharp-edged rocks, many of them of volcanic origin: this more particularly applying to the northern part of the country. The only uniformity of appearance is afforded in the winter, when the white sheet of snow covers rocks, grass, and shingle; but one accompaniment is the same, whatever be the nature of the soil or surface; and the word Pampa invariably recalls to one’s shuddering memory the cutting blasts which sweep almost without intermission from various points, but chiefly from the west, over the high country, till, reaching the heated atmosphere of Buenos Ayres, the cold Patagonian wind becomes the Pampero, the sudden and terrific blasts of which cause so many disasters among the shipping. The descent from these Pampas to the valleys, or more sheltered and fertile level ground bordering the banks of the streams and rivers, is commonly termed ‘Barranca,’ or bank, from the scarped slopes, varying in depth from fifty to two or three feet, and in angle from an easy to an almost perpendicular descent, but often fissured by ravines or gullies, affording roads, down all of which, however, the native riders gallop with equal recklessness.
The Pampa we were now traversing presented an expanse of undulating or rolling plains covered with a uniform growth of coarse grass interspersed with barberry bushes, and occasional lagoons in the hollows. No living creatures except ourselves appeared on the waste. To the westward the snow-clad peaks of the mountains bordering the Sarmiento Straits greeted us with an icy blast which made my thoughts longingly revert to the cosy cabin and my late shipmates, who were, no doubt, threading the intricacies of its channels. But the good guanaco mantle kept out the wind, and our motley party pushed briskly on in good order. Lieutenant Gallegos has been already introduced: as to the others, J’aria was a small man, of rough exterior, of doubtful extraction, and more than doubtful antecedents, who looked fit for any business except good; but he served me most assiduously, and with unlooked-for care. The soldier was a fine-looking fellow, new to the Pampas, whose carbine, which he duly carried, proved a source of great embarrassment to him; and his horse being by no means too manageable, he was considerably bothered, much to the delight of the rest. Two others were hybrids, between gauchos and sailors, having, like our marines, been equally accustomed to service per mare, per terram; but, like the jollies, they were unmistakeably useful and good men. The last of the party was of the J’aria type. All were well mounted, and provided with a spare horse. We carried for provisions biscuit, charqui or dried meat, roasted wheat meal, and coffee and sugar, and were furnished with an unusual but welcome luxury, a small tent, underneath which we cared little for the bitter frost outside.
After riding over the Pampas for three or four hours we encamped for the night in a hollow by the side of a lagoon, having selected a suitable spot for pitching the tent on the sheltered slope, well out of the sweep of the wind. The lagoon was covered with black-necked swans and other wild fowl; so, as soon as the horses had been unloaded and looked after, a fire lit, and all arrangements made for camping, two or three of us went out to try and shoot some wild fowl; but our sporting endeavours were not crowned with much success, and a little before dark we returned to a supper of charqui, and after a talk over the fire, turned in, and slept sound and warm, though outside the frost was severe. My mind was much disquieted, first by the discovery that the box of rifle ammunition which J’aria carried had been dropped by that worthy at the scene of the baggage horse escapade, and secondly, by the mysterious absence from my shot-belt of all my coin, consisting of an onza and a few sovereigns. I said nothing, however, until next morning, when I proceeded quietly to search, remembering that I had taken off my accoutrements before the tent was pitched, and dropped in the grass I found the missing coins. The story afforded J’aria a great theme for jokes, and he often adverted to the chance of inheriting my ounce, in a way that might have made a timid traveller expect foul play, though nothing was farther from my guide’s thoughts. At seven o’clock, after coffee and a biscuit, we were again en route, and about ten arrived close to the head of Peckett’s Harbour. Here one of the party discovered a horse, which was chased into our troop, but as it appeared lame was not pressed into our service; it had probably belonged to the Indians. As in a long voyage, so in a journey of this description, the slightest novelty serves to relieve what it is needless to say becomes the slightly monotonous task of trotting along behind the troop of horses over barren wastes, so we were always on the qui vive for something to chase. One of the men had a dog with him, and shortly after the excitement about the horse we started some ostriches, which, however, proved too swift for the cur, and escaped over some muddy plots close to the ‘Cabecera del Mar.’ This is a large inlet or arm of the sea, running up some miles from Peckett’s Harbour, with which it communicates by a very narrow channel, which can only be crossed at low water; it was our good fortune to arrive at this period, thus escaping a long détour round the inlet. But our crossing was not effected without trouble; the flood-tide rushing up like a mill-race, and proving almost too much for the steadiness of one of the baggage-horses. After clearing the channel, in our farther progress we passed several small streams with swampy ground, all of which probably discharge themselves into Oazy Harbour, and arrived towards evening at an old Indian encampment situated under a range of hills, running more or less north and south, forming one barrier of a broad and well-watered valley, bounded on the eastern side by the well-known ‘Barrancas’ of San Gregorio.