Passing so much of his time on the sea, the Fuegian needs a boat of some kind, and, debased as he is in many points, he is capable of constructing a vessel that answers every purpose he requires. There are several kinds of Fuegian canoes. The simplest form is made of the bark of a sort of birch, and is in fact formed much like the primitive canoes of the Australians. It is a single sheet of bark stripped from the tree, and tied firmly together at each end. Several sticks placed crosswise in the middle serve to keep it open; and if any part has a tendency to bulge in the opposite direction, a skin thong is passed across the boat and keeps it in shape. The ends of the canoe, as well as any cracks or holes in the bark, are caulked with dry rushes and a pitchy resin procured from trees.
Like the Australian, the Fuegian carries fire in these tiny canoes, placing a lump of clay in the bottom of the boat, building the fire on it, and so being able to remain at sea for a considerable time, cooking and eating the fish as fast as he catches them. Such a boat as this, however, is too frail to be taken far from land, or indeed to be used at all when the weather is tempestuous. Moreover, it only holds one or two persons, and is therefore unfitted for many purposes for which a Fuegian requires a canoe. A much larger and better kind of canoe is therefore made, which has the useful property of being made in separate parts so that the canoe can be taken to pieces, and the various portions carried overland to any spot where the canoe may be wanted. Such a vessel as this is about fifteen feet in length and a yard in width, and, being very buoyant, is capable of holding a whole family, together with their house, and weapons, and utensils. It is considerably raised both at the bow and the stern, and the various pieces of which it is made are sewed together with thongs of raw hide.
The very character of a Fuegian’s life shows that he must, to a certain degree, be a nomad. He never cultivates the soil, he never builds a real house, he never stores up food for the future, and so it necessarily follows that when he has eaten all the mussels, limpets, oysters, and fungi in one spot, he must move to another. And, the demands of hunger being imperious, he cannot wait, but, even if the weather be too stormy to allow him to take his canoe from one part of the coast to another, he is still forced to go, and has therefore hit upon the ingenious plan of taking his canoe to pieces, and making the journey by land and not by sea. An [illustration] on the following page shows him shifting quarters.
All he has to do in this case is to unlace the hide thongs that lash the canoe together, take it to pieces, and give each piece to some member of the family to carry, the strongest taking the most cumbrous pieces, such as the side and bottom planks, while the smaller portions are borne by the children. When the snow lies deep, the smaller canoe is generally used as a sledge, on which the heavier articles are placed. As to the hut, in some cases the Fuegians carry the upright rods with them; but they often do not trouble themselves with the burden, but leave the hut to perish, and cut down fresh sticks when they arrive at the spot on which they mean to settle for a time.
The Fuegians are good fire makers, and do not go through the troublesome process of rubbing two sticks upon each other. They have learned the value of iron pyrites (the same mineral which was used in the “wheel-lock” fire-arm of Elizabeth’s time), and obtain it from the mountains of their islands. The tinder is made either of a dried fungus or moss, and when the pyrites and a pebble are struck together by a skilful hand, a spark is produced of sufficient intensity to set fire to the tinder. As soon as the spark has taken hold of the tinder, the Fuegian blows it until it spreads, and then wraps it up in a ball of dry grass. He rapidly whirls the grass ball round his head, when the dry foliage bursts into flames, and the fire is complete.
Still, the process of fire making is not a very easy one, and the Fuegians never use their pyrites except when forced to do so, preferring to keep a fire always lighted, and to carry a firestick with them when they travel. Fire is, indeed, a necessary of life to the Fuegians, not so much for cooking as for warming purposes. Those who have visited them say that the natives always look cold and shivering, as indeed they are likely to do, considering that they wear no clothes, and that even in their houses they can but obtain a very partial shelter from the elements.
Their cookery is of the rudest description, and generally consists in putting the food into the hot ashes, and allowing it to remain there until it is sufficiently done for their taste—or, in other words, until it is fairly warmed through. Cooking in vessels of any kind is unknown to them, and the first lessons given them in cooking mussels in a tin pan were scarcely more successful than those in sewing, when the women invariably made a hole in the stuff with the needle, pulled the thread out of the eye, and then insinuated it through the hole made by the needle. They were repeatedly taught the use of the eye in carrying the thread, but to little purpose, as they invariably returned to the old fashion which they had learned with a fish-bone and fibre of sinew.
(1.) A FUEGIAN SETTLEMENT.
(See [page 1165].)
