Notes of a naturalist in South America

by John Ball

THE GOVERNOR’S FAMILY.

The evening of this day was very agreeably spent at the house of the governor, who had invited to his table Commander Pietrabona and two officers of the Argentine corvette, Cabo de Ornos, Signor Vinciguerra, the captain of the port, and two or three of the principal inhabitants. One of the favourable features by which a stranger is impressed in Chili is the comparative moderation with which political conflicts are conducted. In the other South American republics a conspicuous party leader is marked by the opposite party for relentless proscription, and not rarely for assassination. In Chili political offences are condoned. Don Francisco Sampayo, who is a courteous and accomplished gentleman, had been mixed up in the same abortive movements in which Don B. Vicuña Mackenna was concerned, and had with that gentleman undergone a term of exile, but was subsequently appointed by his political opponents to the government of this settlement.

The government house was unpretending, and could not by any stretch of language be called luxurious. Two good reception-rooms and the bedrooms of the family, all on the ground floor, opened into a small court exposed to rain and snow. The reception-rooms had fireplaces, but these were used only in the evenings, and it was not surprising that the governor’s wife, brought up in the tepid climate of Peru, seemed unable to resist the inclemency of this region. Their children, however, were vigorous and thriving, reminding one more of English boys and girls than any I had seen in South America. The most interesting figure in the family group was that of the mother of Madame Sampayo, an elderly lady, with the remains of remarkable beauty, and an unusual combination of dignity and grace with lively, almost playful, conversation. The removal to this inhospitable shore had not quenched her activity, and she employed her leisure in devising pretty ornaments from seaweeds, shells, and other natural productions of the place.

The Chilian and Argentine Republics concluded, in the year before my visit, a convention to regulate their rival pretensions to the possession of the territory on both sides of the Straits of Magellan, which at one time threatened to engage the two states in war for a worthless object. The new boundary-line is drawn along the middle of the peninsula, ending in Cape Virgenes at the eastern entrance of the Straits, thus leaving to Chili the whole of the northern shores. Opposite to Cape Virgenes is a headland named Cape Espiritu Santo on the main island of Tierra del Fuego. The boundary runs due south from that point, cutting the island into two nearly equal parts, of which the eastern half, along with Staten Island, is assigned to Argentaria. As I understood from the conversation at dinner, Commander Pietrabona had obtained from his government a grant or lease of Staten Island, but it seems very doubtful whether any profit can be derived from an island lying nearly three degrees further south than the Falklands, and fully exposed to the antarctic current.

Amongst the various nationalities that met on this evening, the representative of Germany, the captain of the port, was perhaps the most typical. He is believed to have a more complete and accurate knowledge of the coasts of the Straits of Magellan and of the Channels of Patagonia than any other living man. The conversation was animated, and not seldom turned on the topography of this region; but the worthy Teuton sat obstinately silent, or, when directly appealed to, generally answered by a single monosyllable of assent or negation. A superficial observer would have set this down as evidence of a surly or misanthropic disposition, but in truth this worthy man is noted for good nature and a ready disposition to oblige his neighbours. Having accepted the governor’s offer of a horse for an excursion on the following day, I departed with the other guests, and once again enjoyed the view of the southern heavens undefiled by a single cloud, and found the mud of the streets frozen hard.

A WET DAY.

The dawn of June 12 was again cloudless, and the circle of the red sun, distorted by refraction, rose over the flats of Tierra del Fuego. But in less than a quarter of an hour heavy leaden clouds gathered from all sides and portended a stormy day. I felt rather unwell, and resolved to postpone my intended excursion to the following day. After the needful care given to my plant-collections, I repaired to the hospitable sitting-room of Dr. Fenton, which was, I believe, the only moderately warm spot at Punta Arenas, and passed the day in his company, or that of Mrs. Fenton and their pretty and intelligent children. The heavy rain which persisted nearly all day diminished my regret at having to remain indoors. I made a few notes of the varied information which I obtained from a gentleman who has had unusual opportunities for acquiring knowledge, and who, although not a professed naturalist, appears to be an accurate observer.

The Patagonian Indians who frequent Punta Arenas to dispose of skins appear to be rapidly diminishing in numbers, and one good observer believes that they are now to be counted rather by hundreds than by thousands. The chief cause is doubtless the destructive effect of ardent spirits. They commonly expend nearly everything they gain in drink, but after recovering from a fit of beastly intoxication they usually invest whatever money remains in English biscuits, which they carry off to the interior. Here, as well as at many other places in South America, I heard curious stories showing the extraordinary estimation in which Messrs. Huntley and Palmer are held by the native population. Among the curious customs of these Indians, Dr. Fenton told me that as soon as a child is born one or more horses are assigned to it as property, and if the child should die, as they often do, prematurely, the horses are killed. He further says that a childless Indian not rarely adopts a dog, the ceremony being marked by assigning horses to the dog as his property, and that, as in the case of the human child, at the dog’s death the horses are killed.

Agreeing with most of those who have observed the Fuegians in their native home, Dr. Fenton is sceptical as to the possibility of raising that hapless tribe above their present condition. All honour is due to the devoted men who have laboured at the mission station at Ushuaia in the Beagle Channel, and it may be that some partial success has been obtained with children taken at an early age. But, looking around at the multiplied needs of so many other less degraded branches of our race, one is tempted to believe that such noble efforts might more usefully be bestowed elsewhere. Dr. Fenton thinks that the fact, which appears to be well attested, that Fuegians, in a rough sea, when in danger in their frail canoes, have been known to throw an infant overboard, is evidence that they believe in spirits, the child being offered to appease the wrath of supernatural powers. I confess that I place little reliance on the conclusions of civilized men as to the ideas or motives of savage races in a condition so low that we have the most imperfect means of communicating with them.