Narrative of the surveying voyages of His Majesty's Ships Adventure and Beagle, Vol. 3 [of 3] · Charles Darwin
CHILOE AND CHONOS ISLANDS.
DECEMBER 28TH.--The weather continued very bad, but it at last permitted us to proceed with the survey. The time hung heavy on our hands, as it always did when we were delayed from day to day by successive gales of wind. In the evening another harbour was discovered, where we anchored. Directly afterwards a man was seen waving his shirt; and a boat was sent which brought back two seamen. A party of six had run away from an American whaling vessel, and had landed a little to the southward in a boat, which was shortly afterwards knocked to pieces by the surf. They had now been wandering up and down the coast for fifteen months, without knowing which way to go, or where they were. What a singular piece of good fortune it was that this harbour was now discovered! Had it not been for this one chance, they might have wandered till they had grown old men, and at last have perished on this wild coast. Their sufferings had been very great, and one of their party had lost his life, by falling from the cliffs. They were sometimes obliged to separate in search of food, and this explained the bed of the solitary man. Considering what they had undergone, I think they had kept a very good reckoning of time; though they had lost four days, by making this the 24th instead of the 28th.
DECEMBER 30TH.--We anchored in a snug little cove at the foot of some high hills, near the northern extremity of Tres Montes. After breakfast the next morning, a party ascended one of these mountains, which had an altitude of 2400 feet. The scenery was remarkable. The chief part of the range was composed of grand, solid, abrupt masses of granite, which appeared as if they had been coeval with the beginning of the world. The granite is capped with slaty gneiss, and this in the lapse of ages has been worn into strange finger-shaped points. These two formations, thus differing in their outlines, agree in being almost destitute of vegetation. This barrenness had to our eyes a still stranger appearance, from our having been so long accustomed to the sight of an almost universal forest of dark green trees. I took much delight in examining the structure of these mountains. The complicated and lofty ranges bore a noble aspect of durability,--equally profitless, however, to man and to all other animals. Granite to the geologist is classic ground: from its wide-spread limits, and its beautiful and compact texture, few rocks have been more early recognised. Granite has given rise, perhaps, to more discussion concerning its origin than any other formation. We generally see it constituting the fundamental rock, and, however formed, we know it is the deepest layer in the crust of this globe, to which man has been able to penetrate. The limit of man’s knowledge in any subject possesses a high interest, which is perhaps increased by its close neighbourhood to the realms of imagination.
JANUARY 1ST, 1835.--The new year is ushered in, with the ceremonies proper to it in these regions. She lays out no false hopes; a heavy N. W. gale, with steady rain, bespeaks the rising year. Thank God, we are not destined here to see the end of it, but hope then to be in the Pacific, where a blue sky tells one there is a heaven--a something beyond the clouds above our heads. The N. W. winds prevailing for the next four days, we only managed to cross a great bay, and then anchored in another secure harbour. I accompanied the captain in a boat to the head of a deep creek. On the way the number of seals which we saw was quite astonishing; every bit of flat rock, and parts of the beach, were covered with them. They appeared to be of a loving disposition, and lay huddled together, fast asleep, like so many pigs; but even pigs would be ashamed of their dirt, and of the foul smell which came from them. Each herd was watched by the patient but inauspicious eyes of the turkey-buzzard. This disgusting bird, with its bald scarlet head, formed to wallow in putridity, is very common on the west coast, and their attendance on the seals shows that they are dependant on their mortality. We found the water (probably only that of the surface) nearly fresh; this was caused by the number of torrents, which, in the form of cascades, came tumbling over the bold granite mountains into the sea. The fresh water attracts the fish, and these bring many terns, gulls, and two kinds of cormorant. We saw also a pair of the beautiful black-necked swans, and several small sea-otters, the fur of which is held in such high estimation. In returning we were again amused by the impetuous manner in which the heap of seals, old and young, tumbled into the water as the boat passed. They did not remain long under, but rising, followed us with outstretched necks, expressing great wonder and curiosity.
7TH.--Having run up the coast, we anchored near the northern end of the Chonos Archipelago, in Lowe’s Harbour, where we remained a week. The islands were here, as in Chiloe, composed of a stratified littoral deposit of soft sandstone with shingle; and the vegetation in consequence was beautifully luxuriant. The woods came down to the sea-beach, just in the same manner as an evergreen shrubbery over a gravel walk. We also enjoyed from the anchorage a splendid view of four great snowy cones of the Cordillera, beginning with the saddle-topped volcano, next “el famoso Corcovado,” and then two others to the southward. The range itself had in this latitude so little elevation, that few parts of it appeared above the line of the neighbouring islets. We found here a party of five men from Caylen, “el fin del Cristiandad,” who had most adventurously crossed the open space of sea which separates Chonos from Chiloe, in their miserable boat-canoe, for the purpose of fishing. These islands will, in all probability, in a short time become peopled, like those adjoining the coast of Chiloe.
Humboldt,[1] in his Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, has given a most interesting discussion on the history of the common potato. He believes that the plant described by Molina,[2] under the name of _maglia_, is the original stock of this useful vegetable, and that it grows in Chile in its native soil. He supposes that thence it was transported by the Indian population to Peru, Quito, New Granada, and the whole Cordillera, from 40° south to 5° north. He observes that it is a remarkable circumstance, and in accordance with all records respecting the course of the stream of American population, that previously to the Spanish conquest, it was unknown in Mexico. Among the Chonos Islands, a wild potato grows in abundance, which in general habit is even more closely similar to the cultivated kind than is the _maglia_ of Molina. These potatoes grow near the sea-beach, in thick beds, on a sandy, shelly soil, wherever the trees are not too close together. In the middle of January they were in flower, but the tubers were small, and few in number; especially in those plants which grew in the shade, and had the most luxuriant foliage. Nevertheless, I found one which was of an oval form, with one diameter two inches in length. The raw bulbs had precisely the smell of the common potato of England, but when cooked they shrunk, and became watery and insipid. They had not a bitter taste, as, according to Molina, is the case with the Chilian kind; and they could be eaten with safety. Some plants measured from the ground to the tip of the upper leaf, not less than four feet.
So very close is the general resemblance with the cultivated species, that it is necessary to show that they have not been imported. The simple fact of their growth on the islands, and even small rocks, throughout the Chonos Archipelago, which has never been inhabited, and very seldom visited, is an argument of some weight. But the circumstance of the wildest Indian tribes being well acquainted with the plant, is stronger. Mr. Lowe, a very intelligent and active sealer, informs me, that on showing some potatoes to the naked savages in the Gulf of Trinidad (lat. 50°), they immediately recognised them, and calling them “Aquina,” wanted to take them away. The savages also pointed to a place where they grew; which fact was subsequently verified. The Indians of Chiloe, belonging to another tribe, also give them a name in their own language. The simple fact of their being known and named by distinct races, over a space of four or five hundred miles on a most unfrequented and scarcely known coast, almost proves their native existence. Professor Henslow, who has examined the dried specimens which I brought home, says that they are the same with those described by Mr. Sabine[3] from Valparaiso, but that they form a variety which by some botanists has been considered as specifically distinct. It is remarkable that the same plant should be found on the sterile mountains of central Chile, where a drop of rain does not fall for more than six months, and within the damp forests of the southern islands. From what we know of the habits of the potato, this latter situation would appear more congenial than the former, as its birthplace.
In the central parts of the Chonos Archipelago, in lat. 45° 30′, the forest has assumed very much the same character which is found along the whole west coast for 600 miles to Cape Horn. The arborescent grass of Chiloe has here ceased to exist; while the beech of Tierra del Fuego both grows to a good size, and forms a considerable proportion of the wood; not, however, in the same exclusive manner as it does further to the southward. Cryptogamic plants here find a most congenial climate. In the neighbourhood of the Strait of Magellan, I have before remarked that the country appears too cold and wet to allow of their arriving at perfection; but in these islands, within the forest, the number of species, and great abundance of mosses, lichens, and small ferns, is quite extraordinary.[4] In Tierra del Fuego trees grow only on the hill-sides; every level piece of land being invariably covered by a thick bed of peat; but in Chiloe the same kind of situation supports the most luxuriant forest. Here, within the Chonos Archipelago, the nature of the climate more closely approaches that of the southern, than that of the northern, of these two countries. Nearly every patch of level ground is covered by two species of plants (_Astelia pumila_ of Brown,[5] and _Donatia magellanica_), which by their joint decay compose a thick bed of elastic peat.
In Tierra del Fuego, above the region of woodland, the former of these eminently sociable plants is the chief agent in the production of peat. Fresh leaves are always succeeding one to the other, round the central tap root; the lower ones soon decay; and in tracing a root downward in the peat, the leaves (yet holding their position) can be observed passing through every stage of decomposition, till the whole becomes blended in one confused mass. The Astelia is assisted by few other plants; here and there a small creeping one (_Myrtus nummularia_), with a woody stem like our cranberry, but with a sweet berry; another (_Empetrum rubrum_) like our heath, and a third (_Juncus grandiflorus_) a rush; are nearly the only ones that grow on the swampy surface. These plants, though possessing a very close general resemblance to the English kinds, are botanically different. In the more level parts of the country, the surface of the peat is broken up into little pools of water, which stand at different heights, and appear as if artificially excavated. Small streams of water, flowing under ground, complete the disorganization of the vegetable matter, and consolidate the whole.
The climate of the southern part of America appears particularly favourable to the production of peat. In the Falkland Islands, almost every kind of plant, even the coarse grass which covers the whole surface of the island, becomes converted into this substance. I was at first at a loss to imagine how so much peat had been formed; but the conversion of the grass at once explains it. I observed that even some bones of cattle, strewed on the surface, were nearly covered up by the decaying matter at the foot of the blades of withered grass. Scarcely any situation checks its growth; it overhangs the banks of running streams, and encroaches on the piles of loose angular fragments of quartz rock. Some of the beds are of considerable thickness, even as much as twelve feet: the peat in the lower part is earthy, and completely altered, and when dry, becomes so solid that it ignites with difficulty. No doubt, although every plant lends its aid in the process, yet the Astelia is the most efficient. It is rather a singular circumstance, as being so very different from what occurs in Europe, that no kind of moss forms by its decay any portion of the peat in South America.
With respect to the northern limit at which the climate allows of that peculiar kind of slow decomposition which is necessary for the production of peat, I believe that in Chiloe (lat. 41° to 42°), although there is much swampy ground, no well-characterized substance of this nature occurs. But in the Chonos Islands, three degrees further southward, we have seen that it is abundant. On the eastern coast in La Plata (lat. 35°), I was told by a Spanish resident (who had visited Ireland), that he had often sought for this substance, but had never been able to find any. He showed me, as the nearest approach to it which he had discovered, a black peaty soil, so penetrated with roots as to allow of an extremely slow and imperfect combustion.
The zoology of these broken islets of the Chonos Archipelago, is, as might have been expected, very poor. Of quadrupeds, two aquatic kinds are common. The _Myopotamus Coipus_ (like a beaver, but with a round tail) is well known from its fine fur, which is an object of trade, throughout the tributaries of La Plata. It here, however, exclusively frequents salt water; which same circumstance has been mentioned, as sometimes occurring with the great rodent, the Capybara. A small sea-otter is very numerous. This animal does not feed exclusively on fish, but, like the seals, draws a large supply from a small red crab, which swims in shoals near the surface of the water. Mr. Bynoe saw one in Tierra del Fuego eating a cuttle-fish; and at Lowe’s Harbour another was killed, in the act of carrying to its hole a large volute; and this was the only specimen of that shell which was procured. At one place I caught in a trap a singular little mouse; it appeared common on several of the islets, but the Chilotans at Lowe’s Harbour said that it was not found in all. What a succession of chances,[6] or what changes of level, must have been brought into play, thus to spread these small animals throughout this broken archipelago!
In all parts of Chiloe and Chonos, two very strange birds occur, which have many points of affinity with the Turco and Tapacolo. One is called by the inhabitants “Cheucau” (_Pteroptochos rubecula_). It frequents the most gloomy and retired spots within the damp forests. Sometimes, although its cry may be heard close at hand, let a person watch ever so attentively, he will not see the cheucau; at other times, let him stand motionless, and the red-breasted little bird will approach within a few feet, in the most familiar manner. It then busily hops about the entangled mass of rotting canes and branches, with its little tail cocked upwards. I opened the gizzard of some specimens: it was very muscular, and contained hard seeds, buds of plants, and vegetable fibres, mixed with small stones. The cheucau is held in superstitious fear by the Chilotans, on account of its strange and varied cries. There are three very distinct kinds,--one is called “chiduco,” and is an omen of good; another, “huitreu,” which is extremely unfavourable; and a third, which I have forgotten. These words are given in imitation of its cries, and the natives are in some things absolutely governed by them. The Chilotans assuredly have chosen a most comical little creature for their prophet.
An allied species, but rather larger, is called by the natives “Guid-guid” (_Hylactes Tarnii_ of King, and _Pteroptochos_ of Kittlitz), and by the English the barking-bird. This latter name is well given; for I defy any one at first to feel certain that a small dog is not yelping somewhere in the forest. Just as with the cheucau, a person will sometimes hear the bark close by, but in vain may endeavour, by watching, and with still less chance by beating the bushes, to see its author; yet at other times the guid-guid fearlessly comes near. Its manner of feeding and its general habits are very similar to those of the cheucau. Both species are said to build their nests close to the ground, amongst the rotten branches. The ground being so extremely wet, is a good reason why they do not burrow holes, like the northern species. Besides the cheucau and guid-guid, there is another species, but it is not very common. Moreover, the bird which has been mentioned in Tierra del Fuego, under the title of a black wren (_Scytalopus fuscus_ of Gould), appears, in its skulking habits, odd cries, and place of resort, and likewise in some points of structure, to be closely related to this singular genus.
On the coast,[7] a small dusky-coloured bird (a _Furnarius_ allied to _fuliginosus_) is very common. It is remarkable from its quiet and very tame habits. It lives entirely on the sea-beach, and there (as well as sometimes on the floating kelp), picks up small sea-shells and crabs; thus supplying the place of a sandpiper. Besides these birds, only a few others inhabit this broken land. In my rough notes I describe the strange noises, which although frequently heard within these gloomy forests, yet scarcely disturb the general silence. The yelping of the guid-guid, and the sudden whew-whew of the cheucau, sometimes come from afar, and sometimes from close at hand;--the little wren occasionally adds its cry;--the creeper follows the intruder, screaming and twittering;--the humming-bird may be seen every now and then darting from side to side, and emitting, like an insect, its shrill chirp;--lastly, from the top of some lofty tree, the indistinct but plaintive note of the white-tufted tyrant-flycatcher may be noticed.
From the great preponderance in most countries of certain kinds of birds, such as the finches, one feels at first surprised at meeting with such peculiar forms, above enumerated, as the commonest birds in any district. In central Chile two of them, namely the _Synallaxis_ and _Scytalopus_, occur, although most rarely. When finding, as in this case, any animal which seems to play so insignificant a part in the great scheme of nature, one is apt to wonder why a distinct species should have been created. But it should always be recollected, that in some other country perhaps it is an essential member of society, or at some former period may have been so. If America south of 37° should be sunk beneath the waters of the ocean, the _Synallaxis_ and _Scytalopus_ might continue to exist in central Chile for a long period, but it is very improbable that their numbers would increase. We should then see a case, which must inevitably have happened with very many animals. These southern seas are frequented by several species of Petrels. The largest kind, _Procellaria gigantea_, or nelly, (quebrantahuesos, or break-bones, of the Spaniards) is a common bird, both in the inland channels and on the open sea. In its habits and manner of flight there is a very close resemblance with the albatross, and as with the latter bird, a person may watch it for hours together without seeing on what it feeds, so is it with this petrel. The “break-bones” is, however, a rapacious bird,[8] for it was observed by some of the officers at Port St. Antonio chasing a diver. The bird tried to escape both by diving and flying, but was continually struck down, and at last killed by a blow on its head. At Port St. Julian, also, these great petrels were seen killing and devouring young gulls.
A second species (_Puffinus cinereus_[9]), which is common to Europe, Cape Horn, and the coast of Peru, is of a much smaller size than the _gigantea_, but, like it, of a dirty black colour. It generally frequents the inland sounds in very large flocks: I do not think I ever saw so many birds of any other sort together, as I once saw of these behind the island of Chiloe. Hundreds of thousands flew in an irregular line, for several hours in one direction. When part of the flock settled on the water, the surface was blackened, and a noise proceeded from them, as of human beings talking in the distance. At this time the water was in parts coloured by clouds of small crustacea. At Port Famine, every morning and evening, a long band of these birds continued to fly, with extreme rapidity, up and down the central parts of the channel. I opened the stomach of one (which I shot with some difficulty, for they were rather wary), and it contained a small fish, and seven good-sized, prawn-like crabs.
There are several other species of petrels, but I will only mention one other kind, the _Puffinuria Berardii_, which offers one more example of those extraordinary cases, of a bird evidently belonging to one well-marked family, yet both in its habits and structure allied to a very distinct tribe. This bird never leaves the quiet inland sounds. When disturbed it dives to a distance, and on coming to the surface, with the same movement takes wing. After flying for a space in a direct course, by the rapid movement of its short wings, it drops, as if struck dead, and dives again. The form of the beak and nostrils, length of foot, and even colouring of the plumage, show that this bird is a petrel: at the same time, its short wings and consequent little power of flight, its form of body and shape of tail, its habits of diving, and the absence of a hind toe to its foot, and its choice of situation, make it doubtful whether its relationship is not equally close with the auks as with the petrels. It would undoubtedly be mistaken for one of the former, when seen either on the wing, or when diving and quietly swimming about the retired channels of Tierra del Fuego.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.