Narrative of the surveying voyages of His Majesty's ships Adventure and Beagle, between the years 1826 and 1836
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"15th. Mr. Stokes returned, after going a long way to the north and west, without finding a passage into New Year Sound. His examination, united to Mr. Murray's, almost completed the north and west part of Nassau Bay; and only the east side remained to be explored. Our anchorage, called Orange Bay, is excellent; and one of the few on this coast which are fit for a squadron of line-of-battle ships. Its approach from the sea is as easy as the harbour is commodious. There are three fathoms close to the shore; yet in no part are there more than twenty; and every where there is a sandy bottom. Water is abundant; wood grows close to the sea; wild-fowl are numerous; and although shell-fish are scarce, plenty of small fish may be caught with hook and line among the kelp, and in the summer a seine will furnish abundance.
"On the 16th we left Orange Bay, but light winds prevented our reaching the open sea that day, or during the following night. I was equally disposed to run out again to the Diego Ramirez – to look at the coast west of False Cape for about ten miles – or to run for the Bay of St. Francis; but the wind failed entirely. During the night we had a breeze that would have carried us down to the latter spot, but wishing to see, and take bearings of the land as I went, I did not profit by it; and in the morning was baffled with light airs and a current setting to the northward.
"17th. During the early part of the day we had light variable winds, scarcely sufficient to help us against the current which seemed to set constantly into the bay, from the sea, at the rate of about one knot an hour. The manner in which our compasses were affected in this bay was remarkable; all of them being extremely sluggish, and, unless continually shaken, they did not show the proper magnetic bearings, or agree together, nearer than two points. I sharpened the centres with much care, and examined the agate caps, without improving the results. The compasses considered the best in other places, were here as bad as the worst; an excellent one, upon Alexander's principle, with central jimbals, being nearly useless. In trying the compasses on shore, the heavy cards with large needles had been less affected by local influence than light delicate cards of Kater: the heavy ones having averaged 24° variation along the whole coast, though Kater's differed in some places as much as from 19° to 28°; agreeing nearly with each other, but not with Gilbert's or Alexander's compasses, in both of which were cards comparatively heavy.
"We passed much too close to West Cape, but having fortunately cleared it, ran along the land before a moderate breeze, and rounded Cape Spencer at dusk. The weather was so thick that Cape Horn could not be seen, and we mistook the former for the famous cape; especially as, in that view, the lower part of Cape Spencer looked like the head of a double-horned rhinoceros: but as we drew nearer, Cape Horn appeared. The wind failed as we entered the Bay of St. Francis, and left us to the alternative of anchoring in deep water, or driving about with the current: we therefore anchored off San Joachim Cove, near the Seal Rock. The night proved fine, so we lay quietly till next morning, and then made sail to a breeze from the northward and anchored in San Martin Cove. I afterwards went in a boat to Horn Island, to ascertain the nature of the landing, and whether it was practicable to carry any instruments to the summit of the Cape. Many places were found where a boat might land; and more than one spot where she could be hauled ashore: so that taking instruments to the summit did not seem likely to be a very difficult task. As the weather continued favourable I returned on board that night, and the next morning (19th) arranged for a visit to Cape Horn; a memorial having been previously prepared, and securely enclosed in a stone jar.
"After taking observations at noon for latitude, we set out, carrying five days' provisions, a good chronometer, and other instruments. We landed before dark, hauled our boat up in safety on the north-east side, and established ourselves for the night on Horn Island.
"20th. At daybreak we commenced our walk across the island, each carrying his load; and by the time the sun was high enough for observing, were near the summit, and exactly in its meridian; so we stopped while I took two sets of sights and a round of angles. Soon afterwards we reached the highest point of the Cape, and immediately began our work; I and my coxswain, with the instruments; and Lieut. Kempe with the boat's crew raising a pile of stones over the memorial.
"At first the Diego Ramirez Islands were seen, but before I could get the theodolite fixed and adjusted, the horizon became hazy. At noon satisfactory sets of circum-meridional altitudes were obtained with two good sextants. A round of angles, compass bearings for the variation, and good afternoon sights for time completed our success. The pile made over our memorial was eight feet high, and in it were stones which required the united exertions of all seven men to raise to the top. We drank the health of His Majesty King George the Fourth, and gave three hearty cheers, standing round the Union Jack. Directly all was finished we travelled towards our boat as fast as possible: but darkness surrounded us before we were more than half-way. Those who had loads which would not be hurt by tumbling about among bushes, travelled on; but, having the chronometer and a sextant to take care of, I waited till one of the men returned with a lantern. All reached the boat before nine o'clock, without losing or injuring any thing; but the cargo of stones, for specimens, which each brought back, delayed our returning progress materially.
"At day-light (21st) we launched and stowed our boat, and set out on our return. We reached the ship that afternoon, well laden with fragments of Cape Horn.
"22d. Since the end of March the weather had been more settled, and much finer than we had yet had it on any part of the coast; but our visit to Horn Island was only just in time, for it soon changed again to blowing and raining. Being close to the head of the cove, we did not feel the williwaws – though they appeared to blow sharply enough about the middle of it. I did not wonder at the American, whom we met in the Strait of Magalhaens, saying that he saw 'marks of a very large establishment;' for the head of this cove appeared to have been colonized by the Chanticleer, so many remains of wooden roads and wooden houses were visible every where.
"23d-24th. Bad weather. I was waiting anxiously for an opportunity of getting a true bearing of Diego Ramirez, from the top of Kater Peak, or Cape Spencer, to cross the bearings obtained from Henderson Island.
"25th. I went up to the summit of the Peak, but found so thick a haze, that no distant object could be seen. Leaving the instruments at the top, after taking a few angles, and observations of the sun for true bearings, I descended, and afterwards examined St. Bernard Cove, which appeared to be a good harbour. By comparing the old charts with this place and Nassau Bay, I became convinced that there had been a great mistake, and that the Bay of Nassau is, or rather was, the bay of St. Francis; and that the plan given in the Admiralty charts is a very fair sketch of its west side, from False Cape to Packsaddle Island; but the bottom and east side of the bay are evidently put in at random, and would have been better left out to give place to the words, 'Land was seen in this direction.' Neither in shape, bearings, distance, or soundings, does that plan correspond with the place now called St. Francis Bay; but it does agree very closely, considering the date of its being made, with the part I have mentioned. The words Cape Horn may have misled the compiler, as the plan does not show any latitude or longitude, and those who since visited the place, previously to the Beagle's arrival, had not been in Nassau Bay.
"26th. Another fine day. I went up the peak again and obtained the desired angles; but Diego Ramirez appeared nearly as distant as when seen from the top of Henderson Island. Meanwhile the Beagle was unmoored and got under sail. I reached her outside the cove, and stood to seaward; but the day was too fine, there being little or no wind till dark, when a light breeze carried us out of the bay. I steered for the Diego Ramirez Islands, anxious to profit by the fine weather, and examine them more closely.
"27th. The water being smooth, we had a good opportunity of taking angles for placing the coast between West Cape and Cape Spencer, which completed what was wanting in that part; afterwards, we again steered towards the Diego Ramirez.
"28th. A fine morning with a fresh breeze, just such as we desired. Having kept our wind under easy sail during the night, we bore up, and, at daylight, ran along the east side of the rocky cluster, the wind being from the N.E. We hove-to frequently to take angles and soundings, and sailed quite round the islands at the average distance of half a mile, and then stood away to the northward. They are quite similar to the Ildefonsos; the top of a ridge of hills showing above the water, and broken through by the sea. The two largest are about two hundred feet high, and are covered with tussac: there is a shingle beach on one (the second in size), where a boat may be hauled up in safety; and there is enough good water on the east side of the same island to supply thirty men. A furious surf breaks against the west shore, and sends a spray over the whole island. There is no sheltered anchorage for a vessel: for though she might bring up in deep water, on the eastern side of the group, for a short time, she would even then risk losing her anchor. The least water I found was fifty fathoms, though Weddell's chart shows that there is less than forty off the S.E. end. The heavy swell prevented my landing; but the appearance of the rocks induced me to suppose that they were greenstone. If not of that nature, and similar to the rock about Cape Horn, they may be of very hard sandstone.
"29th. In this climate, during the few intervals of settled fine weather, the sky is frequently overcast soon after sunset, and a slight shower falls. I noticed this frequently here, as well as during the preceding April, May, and June, in the Strait.
"We stood into the bay which lies between False Cape and New Year Sound; but it offered nothing inviting to a ship, being a leeward bight, with rocks and islets scattered along it near the shore. Perhaps there is shelter for a vessel amongst them; but I would not choose their neighbourhood, if it could be avoided, as the bay is exposed to the S.W. winds, which on this coast are the worst. The breeze freshening, and drawing to the northward, enabled us to reach Cape Spencer in the evening, when, as the weather promised ill, I was glad to anchor in eighteen fathoms, over a sandy bottom, off the entrance of San Joachim Cove.
"Expecting wind, we sent top-gallant masts on deck, braced up, and veered to eighty fathoms. After eight the weather cleared, and appeared likely to remain fine, but the glasses continued to fall. At ten a sudden heavy squall came over the land, and the tops of the hills became thickly covered with clouds. Successive furious gusts followed: we let go a second anchor, and veered a whole cable on each. The squalls came most violently from the S.W., and in half an hour the bank of clouds disappeared; but a strong gale from S.W. continued till daylight, when it moderated. Cape Spencer protected us very well, both from wind and sea: should a ship wish to enter San Martin Cove, and the wind or daylight fail her, she will find this spot a convenient stopping-place.
"30th. The Beagle unmoored, got under sail, and stood towards Cape Horn: at noon she was close to the famous Cape, with beautifully fine weather, more like the climate of Madeira than that of fifty-six south latitude. During this day I had excellent opportunities of taking angles, bearings, and soundings, which I hoped would be sufficient for the south and east sides of the Hermite Islands. The following night we worked to the northward, near the Barnevelt Islands, the weather being fine, and the moon shining brightly.
"May 1st. A beautiful day – May-day indeed. I landed on the Barnevelt Islands, and took sights for time, latitude, and true bearing, besides a round of angles, while the Beagle was making slow progress to the northward, the wind being very light, and variable. There is no good landing-place on those islands; but as the water was then comparatively smooth, we were enabled to land upon a steep rocky part, where the surf did not break much. They are two low islets, lying nearly north and south, covered with grass, tussac, and weeds. The largest is about half a mile long, and one-third of a mile wide; the other is about two cables' length square. Several rocks lie off the south end, towards both the east and west; and one above water lies detached, towards the Hermite Islands, nearly in mid-channel: but no other appearance of danger was visible. The angles gained here, crossing those from Orange Bay, bounded the Hermite Islands towards the north – though the detail of their coast-line, northwards, yet remained to be ascertained.
"2d. As fine a day as the preceding. We were close to Evouts, an islet similar to the Barnevelts, but rather higher. The weather enabled Mr. Wilson to continue his sketches of the coast: but indeed no part along which we sailed had been quite omitted. In the afternoon we closed the shore near New Island, and were looking out sharply for banks and shoals, fancying, because the land looked lower, and the Nassau flat had shoal soundings, that we should find banks detached from the land. Shoaler water we certainly found, compared with that to which we had been lately accustomed, namely, from fifteen to twenty fathoms, gradually decreasing as we neared the shore, but we never had less than ten till we were standing into a harbour in the evening. I could here trace no resemblance whatever to any published chart; but seeing a place at the back of some low islets which appeared likely to afford sheltered anchorage, we steered for it, and at sunset anchored in a well-sheltered harbour on the east side of a large island, to the west of New Island. The water shoaled gradually, over a fine sandy bottom; but we ran in rather too far, and had only three fathoms after veering cable, so we were obliged to shift our berth.
"3d. Mr. Murray prepared to go along the coast towards Cape Good Success, carrying one of the chronometers, and other necessary instruments, and taking three weeks' provisions. He set out, in a whale-boat, with six men, well armed and equipped in every way. Having despatched the master, I prepared for an excursion into the interior passages of this part of Tierra del Fuego: while Mr. Stokes, in another boat, was to continue the survey of the coast from the east side of the head of Nassau Bay to the vicinity of New Island; and Lieut. Kempe would take care of the ship, and forward her refitting, besides wooding and watering.
CHAPTER XXIII
Set out in boats – Find Guanacoes – Murray Narrow – Birch Fungus – Tide – Channel – Glaciers – View – Mountains – Unbroken chain – Passages – Steam-vessels – Jemmy Button – Puma – Nest – Accident – Natives – Murray's Journal – Cape Graham – Cape Kinnaird – Spaniard Harbour – Valentyn Bay – Cape Good Success – Natives – Lennox Island – Strait Le Maire – Good Success Bay – Accident – Tide Race – San Vicente – San Diego – Tides – Soundings – North-east Coast – San Sebastian – Reflections – Port Desire – Monte Video – Santa Catalina – Rio de Janeiro.
"4th. Mr. Stokes and I each began another trip in the boats, taking chronometers, and the necessary instruments. He steered to the northward, to get to the mainland; I kept outside to the south-westward, to make the most direct course towards the communication between Nassau Bay and the newly discovered passage or channel. I was surprised to find that the eastern shore of Nassau Bay resembled much of the coast of Patagonia (being a stratum of earth without rock), and differed entirely from the general character of the coasts and islands of Tierra del Fuego. At sunset we landed, and hauled up our boat on a shingle beach which extended several miles, and upon walking only a few yards inland I saw the prints of large cloven hoofs, almost the size of those of a cow. This discovery gave an answer to the question about the guanaco skins and bones found among the Fuegians, but made me less sanguine of finding a passage northward through the interior of the country. Much brushwood was found near this place; and a profusion of rich grass covered an extensive plain.
"5th. We launched the boat, and continued our course along-shore, finding rather shoal water (three to six fathoms within about half a mile), with a very thick bed of kelp, through which it was difficult to force the boat. We had not advanced far, when, passing round a low point of land, we saw four fine guanacoes feeding close to the water. They did not seem to be much alarmed; but walked away from us round a projecting part of the shore, which prevented our getting a shot at them. They appeared to be much larger than those I had seen near Port Desire, on the Patagonian coast, their bodies being far heavier, and their tails longer and more bushy. These differences might be the natural result of a different climate, as cool weather, with plenty of food and water, would probably increase their size. I would not delay, on their account, hoping to fall in with others, but pushed on along the shore. These animals were near what is called in the chart 'Windhond Bay.' In the afternoon, we were again among rocky mountains and deep-water shores, and being so fortunate as to get a fresh breeze from the S.E., made much progress before night. We saw several canoes, full of natives; but did not turn aside to speak to them, as time was too precious.
"6th. A very cold and blowing morning, the wind being against us, yet we made better progress than I had hoped for, as our boat proved to be so excellent; and whether sailing or pulling, was all we could wish for. This night we bivouacked close to the Murray Narrow, but took care not to land till after dark, and then carefully concealed the fire, so that our rest might not be disturbed by visits from the Fuegians. A sharp look-out was, of course, kept by the watch; and by my two dogs, who were very useful in that way.
"7th. Soon after we set out, many canoes were seen in chase of us; but though they paddled fast in smooth water, our boat moved too quickly for them to succeed in their endeavours to barter with us, or to gratify their curiosity. The Murray Narrow is the only passage into the long channel which runs so nearly east and west. A strong tide sets through it, the flood coming from the channel. On each side is rather low land, rising quickly into hills, behind which are mountains: those on the west side being high, and covered with snow. When we stopped to cook and eat our dinner, canoes came from all sides, bringing plenty of fish for barter. None of the natives had any arms; they seemed to be smaller in size, and less disposed to be mischievous, than the western race: their language sounded similar to that of the natives whom we saw in Orange Bay. We found a very large wigwam, built in a substantial manner, and a much better place to live in than many of the huts which are called houses in Chilóe. I think twenty men might have stood upright in it, in a circle; but, probably, of these Fuegians, it would house thirty or forty in the cold weather.
"While our men were making a fire and cooking, I walked into the wood, but found it bore little resemblance to that which our eyes had lately been accustomed to. The trees were mostly birch, but grew tall and straight. The ground was dry and covered with withered leaves, which crackled as I walked; whereas, in other parts where we had lately passed our time, the splashing sound of wet, marshy soil had always attended our footsteps, when not on rock. These Fuegians appeared to think the excrescences which grow on the birch trees, like the gall-nuts on an oak, an estimable dainty. They offered us several, some as large as an apple, and seemed surprised at our refusal. Most of them had a small piece of guanaco, or seal-skin, on their shoulders or bodies, but not enough for warmth: perhaps they did not willingly approach strangers with their usual skin dress about them, their first impulse, on seeing us, being to hide it. Several, whom I surprised at their wigwams, had large skins round their bodies, which they concealed directly they saw me. Fish and the birch fungus must be their chief food, for shell-fish are scarce and small; but they catch an abundance of excellent rock-fish, smelt, and what might be called a yellow mullet. Guanaco meat may occasionally be obtained by them, but not in sufficient quantity to be depended upon as an article of daily subsistence.
"Leaving the natives, we sailed across towards the western arm of the long channel, and continued making our way westward, with oar and sail, until dusk, when we landed, unperceived, as we thought, and established ourselves for the night. Just as we had moored the boat, kindled a fire, and pitched our tent, a canoe came into the cove; another and another followed, until we were surrounded with natives. Knowing we must either drive them away by force, or be plagued with them all night, we at once packed up our things, and wished them good evening. About three miles further westward, we again landed, and fixed our tent in a cove, which gave us good shelter through the night, without any interruption. It was high water this afternoon at four o'clock (being the day of full moon), and the tide rose three feet. The channel here, and opposite the Narrow, is about three miles wide; on its north side is an unbroken line of high mountains, covered with snow to within about a thousand feet of the water. Southward are likewise snow-covered heights, so that the channel is formed by the valley lying between two parallel ridges of high mountains.
"8th. This morning it froze very sharply. We started at sun-rise, with a fine breeze from the eastward, and made a long run before it. The channel preserved the same character, and nearly the same width; on the north, the mountains continued without any opening; but a few miles farther, we saw what appeared to be one. I soon found that there was one passage leading westward, and another rather to the southward of west, which appeared to open into the sea. The easterly breeze failing, and squalls from the N.W. succeeding, we did not make much progress in the afternoon; yet before dark had reached the place where the two channels commence, and stopped for the night on a small island. Soon after dark, one of the boat's crew was startled by two large eyes staring at him, out of a thick bush, and he ran to his companions, saying he had seen the devil! A hearty laugh at his expense was followed by a shot at the bush, which brought to the ground a magnificent horned owl.
"Next day, we continued our westerly route. No natives were seen, though a few wigwams, of the round-topped kind, were passed. The westernmost sharp-pointed, or Yapoo wigwam, was on the main-land, close to the island of the Devil; it was made of small trees, piled up in a circle (the branches and roots having been broken off) with the smaller ends meeting at the top. The boat's crew said it had been a 'Meeting-House,' and perhaps they were not far wrong; for being so large, and just on what might be called neutral ground between the two tribes, it is not unlikely that there may have been many a meeting there – perhaps many a battle. At the separation, or meeting of the two channels, it was high water at a quarter before five this morning, and the flood came from the west, about a knot an hour; the ebb-tide set to the west at about half that strength. Much drift-wood and large fragments of ice were carried along with it. Between some of the mountains the ice extended so widely as to form immense glaciers, which were faced, towards the water, by lofty cliffs. During a beautifully fine and still night, the view from our fireside, in this narrow channel, was most striking, though confined. Thickly-wooded and very steep mountains shut us in on three sides, and opposite, distant only a few miles, rose an immense barrier of snow-covered mountains, on which the moon was shining brightly. The water between was so glassy, that their outline might be distinctly traced in it: but a death-like stillness was sometimes broken by masses of ice falling from the opposite glaciers, which crashed, and reverberated around – like eruptions of a distant volcano.