"At three this morning (5th), I was called up to hear that the whale-boat was lost—stolen by the natives; and that her coxswain and two men had just reached the ship in a clumsy canoe, made like a large basket, of wicker-work covered with pieces of canvas, and lined with clay, very leaky, and difficult to paddle. They had been sent by the master, who, with the other people, was at the cove under Cape Desolation, where
they stopped on the first day. Their provisions were all consumed, two-thirds having been stolen with the boat, and the return of the natives, to plunder, and perhaps kill them, was expected daily.
"The basket, I cannot call it a canoe, left the Cape (now doubly deserving of its name) early on the morning of the 4th, and worked its way slowly and heavily amongst the islands, the men having only one biscuit each with them. They paddled all day, and the following night, until two o'clock this morning (5th), when in passing the cove where the ship lay, they heard one of our dogs bark, and found their way to us quite worn out by fatigue and hunger. Not a moment was lost, my boat was immediately prepared, and I hastened away with a fortnight's provisions for eleven men, intending to relieve the master, and then go in search of the stolen boat. The weather was rainy, and the wind fresh and squally; but at eleven o'clock I reached the cove, having passed to seaward of the cape, and there found Mr. Murray anxiously, but doubtfully, awaiting my arrival. My first object, after inquiring into the business, was to scrutinize minutely the place where the boat had been moored, (for I could not believe that she had been stolen;) but I was soon convinced that she had been well secured in a perfectly safe place, and that she must, indeed, have been taken away, just before daylight, by the natives. Her mast and sails, and part of the provisions were in her; but the men's clothes and the instruments had fortunately been landed. It was the usual custom with our boats, when away from the ship, to keep a watch at night; but this place appeared so isolated and desolate, that such a precaution did not seem necessary. Had I been with the boat, I should probably have lost her in the same manner; for I only kept a watch when I thought there was occasion, as I would not harass the boat's crew unnecessarily; and on this exposed and sea-beaten island, I should not have suspected that Indians would be found. It appeared that a party of them were living in two wigwams, in a little cove about a mile from that in which our boat lay, and must have seen her arrive;
while their wigwams were so hidden as to escape the observation of the whale-boat's crew. At two o'clock on the first morning, Mr. Murray sent one of the men out of the tent to see if the boat rode well at her moorings in the cove, and he found her secure. At four another man went to look out, but she was then gone. The crew, doubtful what had been her fate, immediately spread about the shore of the island to seek for traces of her, and in their search they found the wigwams, evidently just deserted: the fire not being extinguished. This at once explained the mystery, and some proceeding along the shore, others went up on the hills to look for her in the offing; but all in vain. The next morning Mr. Murray began the basket, which was made chiefly by two of his men out of small boughs, and some parts of the tent, with a lining of clayey earth at the bottom. Being on an island, about fifteen miles from the Beagle, their plan was as necessary as it was ingenious: though certainly something more like a canoe than a coracle could have been paddled faster.
"The chronometer, theodolite, and other instruments having been saved, Mr. Murray had made observations for fixing the position of the place, and had done all that was required before I arrived, when they embarked, with their things, in my boat, which then contained altogether eleven men, a fortnight's provisions, two tents,[[190]] and clothing; yet with this load she travelled many a long mile, during the following week, a proof of the qualities of this five-oared whale-boat, which was also built by Mr. Jonathan May, our carpenter, while we were at San Carlos.
"The very first place we went to, a small island about two miles distant, convinced us still more decidedly of the fate of our lost boat, and gave us hopes of retrieving her; for near a lately used wigwam, we found her mast, part of which had been cut off with an axe that was in the boat. Our next point was then to be considered, for to chase the thieves I was determined. North and east of us, as far as the eye could reach, lay an extensive
bay in which were many islands, large and small; and westward was a more connected mass of large islands reaching, apparently, to the foot of that grand chain of snowy mountains, which runs eastward from the Barbara Channel, and over the midst of which Sarmiento proudly towers. I resolved to trace the confines of the bay, from the west, towards the north and east, thinking it probable that the thieves would hasten to some secure cove, at a distance, rather than remain upon an outlying island, whence their retreat might be cut off. In the evening we met a canoe containing two Fuegians, a man and a woman, who made us understand, by signs, that several canoes were gone to the northward. This raised our hopes, and we pushed on. The woman, just mentioned, was the best looking I have seen among the Fuegians, and really well-featured: her voice was pleasing, and her manner neither so suspicious nor timid as that of the rest. Though young she was uncommonly fat, and did justice to a diet of limpets and muscles. Both she and her husband were perfectly naked. Having searched the coves for some distance farther, night came on, and we landed in a sheltered spot.
"The next day (6th), we found some rather doubtful traces of the thieves. Towards night it blew a strong gale, with hail-squalls and rain.
"On the 7th, at a place more than thirty miles E.N.E. of Cape Desolation, we fell in with a native family, and on searching their two canoes found our boat's lead line. This was a prize indeed; and we immediately took the man who had it into our boat, making him comprehend that he must show us where the people were, from whom he got it. He understood our meaning well enough, and following his guidance we reached a cove that afternoon, in which were two canoes full of women and children; but only one old man, and a lad of seventeen or eighteen. As usual with the Fuegians, upon perceiving us they all ran away into the bushes, carrying off as much of their property as possible—returning again naked, and huddling together in a corner. After a minute search, some of the boat's gear was found, part of her sail, and
an oar, the loom of which had been made into a seal-club, and the blade into a paddle. The axe, and the boat's tool-bag were also found, which convinced us that this was the resort of those who had stolen our boat; and that the women, six in number, were their wives. The men were probably absent, in our boat, on a sealing expedition; as a fine large canoe, made of fir-plank, perhaps from the wreck of the Saxe Cobourg, was lying on the beach without paddles or spears. She did not come there without paddles: and where were the spears of which every Fuegian family has plenty? It was evident that the men of the party had taken them in our boat, and had cut up our oars like the one they had accidentally left. The women understood what we wanted, and made eager signs to explain to us where our boat was gone. I did not like to injure them, and only took away our own gear, and the young man, who came very readily, to show us where our boat was, and, with the man who had brought us to the place, squatted down in the boat apparently much pleased with some clothes and red caps, which were given to them. We had always behaved kindly to the Fuegians wherever we met them, and did not yet know how to treat them as they deserved, although they had robbed us of so great a treasure, upon the recovery or loss of which much of the success of our voyage depended. Following the guidance of these two natives, we pulled against wind and rain until dark, when it became absolutely necessary to secure our boat for the night, deeply laden as she was with thirteen people. As we were then at a great distance from the place, whence we brought the natives, having pulled for four hours alongshore, and as they seemed to be quite at their ease, and contented, I would not secure our guides as prisoners, but allowed them to lie by the fire in charge of the man on watch. About an hour before daylight, although the look-out man was only a few yards distant from the fire, they slipped into the bushes, and as it was almost dark were immediately out of sight. Their escape was discovered directly, but to search for them during darkness, in a thick wood, would have been useless; besides, our men were tired with their day's work, and wanted rest, so