At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

As there were no more shocks, in about ten minutes the people in the streets and Plaza ceased to call on Santa Maria, rushed back to the remaining saloons, called for the fiddlers, and went on dancing as though nothing had happened, and yet within half a mile of them, fifty human beings at least had been hurled into eternity without a moment’s warning.

We left Valparaiso the next day on our journey to Liverpool, and as the steamer’s boilers were in a very dilapidated condition, and not in any way fit to place much confidence in, the captain decided to pass through Smythe’s Straits, into the Straits of Magellan, thereby cutting off the stormy region outside the thousands of small islands. Now in the Smythe’s Strait the water is very deep right close to the side of the high mountains. There is only one place in this strait where a ship can find anchorage, and that is in a small bay off the strait, so that it is a great risk to take a steamer through. However, we entered the strait in the forenoon, and arrived at the anchorage just before dark. It was a bitter cold day, and the hills around us were covered with snow. The whole place looked a wild and inhospitable spot. Among our passengers was the Chilian Governor and his suite, for the penal settlement of Sandy Point in the Straits of Magellan. He advised the captain to have a strict watch kept, as the native Fuegians were a treacherous lot, as we had reason to remember a few hours later.

Shortly after anchoring, a long canoe came off from the shore, containing a man, woman, and three children. Neither the man nor woman were more than four feet in height, and had no covering, with the exception of a skin over their shoulders, and a smaller one around their loins; the children were quite naked at the bottom of the canoe, in which there was a little water, but they did not seem to mind this. It is astonishing what the human body can stand if trained to it. Both the man and woman were armed with crude bows and arrows, and each had a long spear of hard wood, which may have been used for spearing fish, as there were several small ones in the canoe. They were not allowed to come on board, but the captain ordered the steward to give them a bucketful of ship’s bread. This was done, and the poor creatures went almost mad over it, eating it ravenously. When they saw that this was all there was to be got, they pulled back to the shore, and shortly afterwards, it being very dark, we saw a fire lit on one of the hills to the south of the bay. In a few minutes we saw another a little further off, and then successively fire beacons were shewn in varying distances from each other all around the bay which was quite two miles across.

When the Governor of Sandy Point saw this, he told the captain that, in all probability, the natives would try to attack and surprise the ship during the night, and advised him to be prepared. The captain at once ordered steam to be got ready at a moment’s notice. All hands were mustered, and arms served out as far as they would go, and the crew told to stand by. About midnight we saw a large canoe put off from the shore; it appeared to be about fifty feet long, and contained quite forty men, and was approaching the steamer from right ahead. When about a hundred yards off it stopped and, while some of us were watching it, word was passed along that there were large canoes all round the ship.

The steamer’s whistle sounded, this gave them a scare, for they drew a little further off. Then the boilers started to blow off, causing a terrible noise, and the whole of the canoes disappeared. The officer went around the ship to see that there were no ropes or anything hanging over the side and stationed men all round the ship on the look out to prevent our being surprised, and we wished for daylight.

About four a.m., the canoes were seen approaching the ship again, so the captain ordered the brass gun on the bridge to be fired over their canoes to frighten them, but the quartermaster, quite unknown to the officers, slipped into the mouth of the gun a number of iron nuts. When the gun was fired there was terrific yelling and shouting from some of the canoes in the line of fire, and several of them pulled quickly away for the shore, the others drawing nearer and nearer to the ship. Fearing an attack, the engines were put slow ahead, and the steamer kept slowly steaming around her anchor until the daylight broke, and we could see the channel. The anchor was then lifted and we passed slowly out of the bay. What the tale might have been had we been caught napping during the night, it is hard to say. There must have been at least three or four hundred natives in the canoes, all armed with spears and bows and arrows. However, all’s well that ends well, and we were very glad to get away from that place all well.

A few days afterwards we called at Sandy Point, in the Straits of Magellan, landed the passengers for that place, took in bunker coals, and proceeded on our voyage to Liverpool, where we arrived safely after the usual ups and downs, and after a ninety days’ passage from Valparaiso. I left the ship after we were paid off, intending to take a holiday before deciding upon what part of the world I would next visit, and feeling that a little while on shore would do me good in more ways than one.

CHAPTER XVII
“Eastward Ho!”

After remaining in Liverpool a few weeks, during which time I was made much of by those at home, who were all undoubtedly glad to see me, and who listened with great interest to all that I had to tell of what I had seen and passed through since I sailed away in the “Stormy Petrel,” I went on a visit to Chester. “Rare old city of Chester”—one of the most interesting places in this England of ours. What happy days I spent rambling through those old streets which take one back to a bygone age, with their covered Rows containing the best of shops, with the houses above them and small shops beneath the larger ones. What hours I spent in the old cathedral of St. Werburgh built in the shape of a cross, the old weatherbeaten tower standing just in the centre compartment of the cross, filled with hallowed memories of bygone days, when the city rang with the shout of arms to arms, and the walls that encircle it, built as only Roman hands could build them, clasping the city in an embrace of stone, defiant alike of time and foe. Like thousands of others who have walked upon those walls, I stood on the top of the Phoenix Tower from which King Charles saw his army defeated by the Parliamentary forces on September the 27th, 1645, on Marston Moor. This defeat was the beginning of the end, for within three years from that day a great crowd was gathered in front of the palace of Whitehall. A man in a mask severed at one blow the King’s head from his body, saying as he held it up in view of the weeping spectators “Behold the head of a traitor.” England was not long before she discovered who were the real traitors, history tells us of the brave and gallant defence of that loyal city, and how its brave men and women held out until famine did what the sword could not do, and the churches and cathedral still bear the traces of the way in which the Parliamentary forces kept their word. Every street and stone in the city and its surroundings were full of interest to me, and of course I spent some hours on the River Dee, went to Ecclestone, and saw Eaton Hall the country home of the Duke of Westminster, through whose kindness the public are allowed to visit both the hall and grounds during the summer months, on payment of a small fee, this being given to the various Chester charities. Needless to say I availed myself of this opportunity, and enjoyed it immensely: as I left the grounds I walked for a little while about the village, every house being a picture in itself, clothed in woodbine and choice evergreen, and with its small but sweetly smelling gardens, the thought passed through my mind that here at least was one of earth’s favoured ones, who saw to the well-being of those living at his gate. This being my last day of holiday, I returned to Liverpool, and the old restless spirit took possession of me once again.