The Land of Fire: A Tale of Adventure

Landing, they are surprised to see a square-built hut of large size, quite different from anything of Fuegian construction, and evidently the work of white men.

“I reck’n the crew o’ some sealin’ vessel hez put it up,” surmises Seagriff; in doubt adding, “Yit I can’t understan’ why they should a-squatted hyar, still less built a shanty, seein’ it ain’t much of a lay fer seal. I guess they must hev got wracked somewhar near, and war castaways, like ourselves.”

About the builders of the hut he has surmised wrongly. They were not sealers, nor had they been wrecked, but were a boat’s party of real sailors – man-of-war’s men from the very ship which gave the channel its name, and at the date of its discovery. Nor did the island deserve the harsh name bestowed upon it, and which originated in the following incident:

A screech-owl had perched above the head of one of the Beagle’s sailors who slept under a tree outside the hut, and awakened him with its lugubrious “whoo-woo-woah!” and so frightened the superstitious tar, that he believed himself hailed by one of the malevolent deities of weird Fireland!

“Well,” says Captain Gancy, after an inspection of the untenanted building, “it’ll serve us a turn or two, whoever may have built it. The roof appears to be all tight and sound, so we needn’t be at the bother of turning the boat-sail into a tent this time.”

A fire is kindled inside the hut, and all gather round it, the night being chilly cold. Nor are they afraid of the blaze betraying them here, as the fog will prevent its being seen from any distance. Besides, they are in every way more confident than hitherto. They have passed beyond the country of the Ailikoleeps with their lives miraculously preserved, and everything now looks well for getting to Good Success Bay – the haven of safety they are seeking. It is now not over two hundred miles distant, and with winds and tides favouring, in three days, or less, they may reach it.

Still, there is cause for anxiety, even apprehension, as the old sealer is too well aware.

“We ain’t out o’ the wood yit,” he says, employing a familiar backwoods expression often heard by him in boyhood, adding, in like figurative phrase, “we still hev to run the gauntlit o’ the Tekeneekas.”

“But surely we’ve nothing to fear from them?” interrogates the younger Gancy; Henry Chester affirming, “No, surely not.”

“Why hevn’t we?” demands Seagriff.

“Because,” answers the young Englishman, “they are Jemmy Button’s people, and I’d be loth to believe him ungrateful after our experience with his old companions, and from what I remember of him. What do you think, Ned?”

“I agree with you entirely,” replied the younger Gancy.

“Wal, young masters, thet may all be, an’ I’d be only too pleased to be-hope it’ll turn out so. But agin it, thar’s a contrary sarcumstance, in thar bein’ two sarts o’ Tekeneekas: one harmless and rayther friendly disposed torst white people, t’other bein’ jest the revarse – ’most as bad as the Ailikoleeps. The bad uns are called Yapoos, an’ hev thar squattin’ groun’ east’ard ’long the channel beyont, whar a passage leads out, knowed as the Murray Narrer. Tharfer, it’ll all depend on which o’ the two lots Mister Button belongs to.”

“If he is not of the Yapoos, what then?” questions the skipper.

“Wal, knowin’ thet, an’ we’ll know it afore comin’ to the Yapoo country, it bein’ beyont t’other, then our best way ’ll be to make southart through the Murray Narrer. Thet ’ud take us out to the open sea ag’in, with a big ’round about o’ coastin’; still, in the end, it mout be the safer way. ’Long the outside shore, thar ain’t so much likelihood o’ meetin’ Feweegins of any kind: and ef we did meet ’em, ’twould be easier gettin’ out of thar way, s’long’s we’re in a boat sech ez we hev now.”

The last observation contains a touch of professional pride; the old ship’s carpenter having, of course, been chief constructor of the craft that is so admirably answering all their ends.

“Well, then,” says the Captain, after reflection, “I suppose we’ll have to be guided by circumstances. And from what has passed, we ought to feel confident that they’ll still turn up in our favour.”

This remark, showing his continued trust in the shielding power of an Omnipotent Hand, closes the conversation, and all soon after retire to rest, with a feeling of security long denied them. For, although lately under the protection of Eleparu, they had never felt full confidence, doubting, not his fidelity, but his power to protect them. For the authority of a Fuegian chief – if such there be – is slight at the best, and made nought of on many occasions. Besides, they could not forget that one fearful moment of horror, to be remembered throughout life.

Having passed the night in peaceful slumber, they take their places in the boat as soon as there is light enough to steer by. There is still a fog, though not so dense as to deter them from re-embarking, while, as on the day before, the wind is all in their favour. With sail filled by the swelling breeze, they make rapid way, and by noon are far along the Beagle Channel, approaching the place where the Murray Narrow leads out of it, trending southward. But now they see what may prove an interruption to their onward course. Through the fog, which has become much less dense, a number of dark objects are visible, mottling the surface of the water. That they are canoes can be told by the columns of smoke rising up over each, as though they were steam-launches. They are not moving, however, and are either lying-to or riding at anchor. None are empty, all have full complements of crew.

As the canoes are out in the middle of the channel, and right ahead, to pass them unobserved is impossible. There is no help for it but to risk an encounter, whatever may result; so the boat is kept on its course, with canvas full spread, to take the chances.

While yet afar off, Captain Gancy, through his glass, is able to announce certain facts which favour confidence. The people in the canoes are of both sexes, and engaged in a peaceful occupation – they are fishing. They who fish are seated with some sort of tackle in hand, apparently little rods and lines, short as coach-whips, with which at intervals they draw up diminutive fish, by a quick jerk landing them in the canoes. All this he made out through the glass.

But the time for observation is brief. The boat, forging rapidly onward, is soon sighted by the canoemen, who, starting to their feet, commence a chorus of shouts, which come pealing over the water, waking echoes along both shores. And something is seen now which gives the boat’s people a thrill of fear. Above one of the canoes suddenly appears a white disc, seemingly a small flag, not stationary, but waved and brandished above the head of the man who has hoisted it.

At sight of the dreaded white – the Fuegian symbol of war – well may the boat-voyagers experience fear; for, from their former experience, they feel certain that this display must be intended as a warlike challenge.

But to their instant relief, they soon learn that it is meant as a signal of peace, as words of friendly salutation reach their ears.

The man who is waving the signal shouts, “Boat ahoy! down your sail – bring to! Don’t be ’fraid. Me Jemmy Button. We Tekeneekas – friends of white people – brothers!”

Hailed in such fashion, their delight far exceeds their surprise, for Jemmy Button it surely is; Henry Chester and Ned Gancy both recognise him. It is on his side that amazement reaches its maximum height when he recognises them, which he does when his native name, Orundelico, is called out to him.

He waits not for the boat to come up, but plunging into the water, swims to meet it. Then clambering over the rail, he flings his arms wide open, to close, first around the young Englishman, then the American, but both in a like friendly, fraternal embrace.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Tekeneeka Hospitality

Once more are the castaways in a land-locked cove begirt by high wooded hills, with their boat moored at its inner end, and their tent set up on shore. It is a larger embayment than that where the gig came to grief, though not much wider at the mouth; and there is little resemblance between the two landing-places, since at the present one the boat is not the only craft. Ten or more of Fuegian canoes lie alongside her, while on a broad, grassy flat, above water-mark, stands alike number of wigwams, their smoke-blackened thatches in strong contrast with the white, weather-bleached boat-sail, which is again serving as a tent. The wigwams are of Tekeneeka construction, differing, as already said, from those of the Ailikoleeps, in being acutely cone-shaped and in having their floors sunk several feet below the surface of the ground. Their ribs, moreover, are stout tree-trunks instead of slender saplings, while the thatches are partly of rushes and partly of broad strips of bark.

Such are the dwellings of Orundelico’s people, though but for a part of the year, while they engage in a certain fishery of periodical occurrence. On an island, down the Murray Narrow, they have a larger “wigwamery” of more permanent residences, and there the very old and young of the community now are, only the able-bodied being at the fishing-station.

When they were with the Ailikoleeps, the castaways believed themselves among the lowest and most degraded beings in the human scale; but about this they have now changed their minds, a short acquaintance with the Tekeneekas having revealed to them a type of man still lower, and a state of existence yet more wretched, if that be possible; indeed, nothing can come much nearer to the “missing link” than the natives of central Tierra del Fuego. Though of less malevolent disposition than those who inhabit the outside coasts, they are also less intelligent and less courageous, while equally the victims of abject misery.

Alas! Jemmy Button is no longer Jemmy Button, but again the savage Orundelico, he too having gone back to barbarism. His dress, or rather the absence of it, his greasy and mud-bedaubed skin, his long unkempt hair, and the wild animal-like expression of his features – all attest his relapse into a condition of savagery, total and complete. Not a vestige of civilised man remains with him to show that he has ever been a mile from the Murray Narrow.

But stay, I am wronging him – twice wronging him. He has not entirely forgotten the foreign tongue taught him on board the Beagle and during a year’s residence in England; while something he remembers also – something better – the kindness there shown him and the gratitude due for it.

He is paying the debt now as best he can, and on this account Captain Gancy has consented to make a brief stop at the fishing-station. There are also two other distinct reasons for his doing so. Before proceeding farther, he wishes to obtain more information about the Yapoos, and he needs a fresh supply of provisions – that furnished by Eleparu having been neither abundant nor palatable.

Orundelico can do better for them, even to providing fresh meat – a thing they have not tasted for a long time. They are now in a region where roams the guanaco[22 - The guanaco, by some supposed to be the llama in its wild state, is found on the eastern side of Tierra del Fuego. Its range extends to the farthest southern point by the Straits of Lemaire; and, strange to say, it is there of a much larger size than on the plains of Patagonia, with a rougher coat and a longer tail.]; and the Tekeneekas are hunters as well as fishermen. A party has been sent inland to procure one or more of these animals, and the boat-voyagers are awaiting its return before continuing their interrupted voyage.

Meanwhile, the hospitality shown them by Jemmy Button is as generous as his limited means will allow. To make their time pass agreeably, he entertains them with accounts of many odd manners and customs, and also of such strange phenomena of nature as are peculiar to his country. The Tekeneekas, he assures them, are a peaceful people, never going to war when they can avoid it. Sometimes, however, they are forced into it by certain neighbouring tribes that make marauds upon them. The Ailikoleeps are enemies of theirs, but a wide belt of neutral territory between the two prevents frequent encounters. They more often have quarrels with the Yapoos living to the eastward, though these are tribally related to them. But their most dreaded foes are the Oensmen, whose country lies north of the channel, beyond the range of high mountains that borders it. The Oensmen he describes as giants, armed with a terrible weapon – the “bolas.”[23 - Jemmy Button’s “Oensmen” are the Yacana-cunnees, kindred of the Patagonians, who at some distant time have crossed the Magellan Strait, and now rove over the large tract to which Narborough gave the name of “King Charles’s South Land.” They are a hunting tribe, the guanaco being the chief object of their pursuit and source of subsistence.] But, being exclusively hunters, they have no canoes; and when on a raid to the southern side of the channel, they levy on the craft of the Yapoos, forcing the owners to ferry them across.

Orundelico’s own people can fight too, and bravely, according to his account; but only do so in defence of their homes and at the last extremity. They are not even possessed of warlike weapons – neither the deadly club nor the flint-bladed dagger – their spears, bows, and slings being used only as implements for fishing and the chase.

Besides the harmaur (guanaco), they hunt the hiappo (sea-otter) and the coypu, or South American beaver,[24 - Myopotamus coypus. It is found in many South American rivers, and, less frequently, in Fuegian waters. In habits and otherwise the coypu is much like the beaver, but is a smaller animal, and has a rounder tail.] which is also found in Tierra del Fuego. The chase of the otter takes place out in the open water, where the amphibious animal is surrounded by the well-trained dogs in a wide circle; they then close in upon it, diving whenever it goes under to prevent its escape through the enfilading ring.

Of the tekeneeka mode of fishing he treats them to an actual exhibition. No hooks are used, the bait, a lump of seal flesh, being simply attached to a hair-line. The fish, seizing it, is gently drawn to the surface, then dexterously caught by the left hand, and secured before it can clear its teeth from the tough fibrous bait. The rods used in this primitive style of angling are of the rudest kind – mere sticks, no longer than coach-whip shafts.

In hunting the harmaur, or, as they also call it, wanakaye (evidently a corruption of “guanaco”), one of their modes is to lie in wait for it on the limb of a tree which projects over the path taken by these animals, the habit of which is to follow one another in single file, and along old frequented tracks. Above these, among the branches, the Tekeneeka hunter constructs a sort of wattle staging or nest. Seating himself on this, he awaits the coming of the unsuspicious creature, and, when it is underneath, plunges his spear down between its ribs, the blade of the spear being a bone taken from some former victim of its own species.

Orundelico also shows them the Fuegian mode of fire-kindling, the first sparks being obtained from the cathow, or fire-stone,[25 - Iron pyrites. It is found on several of the mountainous islands of western Tierra del Fuego, and is much-prized by the natives for the purpose indicated. Being scarce in most places, it is an article of inter-tribal commerce, and is eagerly purchased by the Patagonians, in whose territory it is not found.] two pieces of which every Fuegian carries about him, as a habitual smoker does his flint and steel or box of matches. The inflammable material used by the natives is of three sorts: the soft down of certain birds, a moss of fine fibre, and a species of dry fungus found attached to the under side of half-rotten trees. The cathows, rasped against each other like flints, emit sparks which ignite the tinder, when the flame is produced in the way that the old sealer has employed since they have been in the country.

From Orundelico his guests get to know more of those matters about which his former associate, Eleparu, was so reticent, and as they now learn, with good reason.

“York bad fella,” he answers, on being questioned, “he rob me after Inglis officer leave us all at Woolya. Took ’way my coat, trousers, tools – everything. Yes, York very bad man. He no Tekeneeka; him blubber-eating Ailikoleep.”

Strange words from a man who, while giving utterance to them, is industriously masticating a piece of raw seal flesh.

Is there a people or nation on earth that does not believe itself superior to some other?

Jemmy further declares that the hostile party encountered in Whale-Boat Sound must have been Ailikoleeps; though Eleparu had denied it. Still, as there are several communities of Ailikoleeps, it may have been one with which Eleparu’s people have no connection.

With a grateful remembrance of their late host’s behaviour, the castaways are loth to believe all that is alleged against him by their present generous entertainer; though they feel some of it must be true, or why should Eleparu have been so reticent as to the relations between them?[26 - The robbery was actually committed. After being left at Woolya, York and Fuegia found their way to the country that they had been taken from farther west; but not until they had stripped their former associate of most of the chattels that had been given him by Captain Fitzroy.]

Like York, Jemmy has become a Benedict, and his wife is with him at the fishing-station. They have also an “olive-branch,” which has been left at the other wigwamery – a daughter, who, if she grow up with but the least resemblance to her mother, will be anything but a beauty, Jemmy’s “helpmeet” being as ugly as can well be imagined. Withal, she is of a kindly gentle disposition, quite as generous as Ocushlu, and does her best to entertain her husband’s guests.

Notwithstanding all the hospitality extended to them, the castaways find the delay irksome, and are impatient to be gone. Glad they are when at length a shout heard from the hills announces the approach of the hunters; and still more gratified at seeing them issue from the wood, bearing on their backs the four quarters of a guanaco as large as a year-old bullock.