From the above account, and from the chart that accompanies it, in which this inlet is made to communicate with the Strait of Magalhaens by the opening round Cape Monmouth, our knowledge of the supposed St. Sebastian Channel was derived. That there is a deep bay, in the latitude of 53° 16′, not only appears from the account of the Nodales, who were within the heads, although it seems they did not proceed beyond the stony ground on the south side of the entrance; but also from the accounts of vessels who have lately seen it; and of one ship-master who was deterred from entering, by the formidable notice on our charts of its being "only navigable for small vessels," whence he conjectured that the tides would be very strong, and the channel occasionally narrow, as well as narrow, and shoal.
Sarmiento, Narborough, Byron, Wallis, Bougainville, and Cordova, have severally noticed an opening, which corresponds to this supposed channel, namely, that between Capes Monmouth and Valentyn; but the object of those voyagers having been to make the passage through the known Strait, to explore this opening was, in all probability, considered a waste of time; yet, that such a channel was supposed to exist, we must conclude from the conspicuous figure it makes in the charts of Tierra del Fuego.
Had there been a knowledge of its affording any communication with the sea, surely Sarmiento and Narborough, as well as the Nodales, who navigated the Strait from west to east, would have been induced to attempt to pass through; and avoid the dangers, as well as difficulties, of the channels to the northward.
Anxious to set the question at rest, I gave Captain Stokes orders to proceed to survey the western coasts, between the Strait of Magalhaens and latitude 47° south, or as much of those dangerous and exposed shores as he could examine, with the means at his disposal, and sailed myself, in the Adelaide, to explore the supposed St. Sebastian Channel. Every discretionary power was given to Captain Stokes to act as he pleased, for the benefit of the service; but he had strict orders to return to Port Famine by the 24th of July, when I hoped to move the Adventure to some other part of the Strait, and to recommence operations with the earliest days of spring, if the winter should be unfit for our work.
Having crossed over to the southward of Point Boqueron, we proceeded, on the 13th of March, to the N.E. (in which direction the opening trended), at no great distance from the northern shore; behind which the country seemed to rise gradually to the summit of a long ridge of table-land, terminating near the First Narrow, and appearing like that in the neighbourhood of Cape Gregory. It was inhabited; for here and there we observed the smoke of fires, perhaps intended as invitations for us to land.
The south side of the opening seemed (after forming a small bay under Nose Peak) to extend in a direction parallel to the northern coast of the bay, for three or four leagues, when it dipped beneath the horizon. Neither shore had any opening or indenture in its coast line, of sufficient size to shelter even a boat; so that a vessel caught here, with a south-westerly gale, would have little chance of escape; unless a channel should exist, of which, from the stillness of the water and the total absence of tide, we had very little hope. The soundings were variable between twenty and thirty fathoms, and the bottom seemed to be of shells, probably covering a substratum of clay or sand. As we stood on, a small rocky lump came in sight, which appeared to be the termination of the northern shore, and again we flattered ourselves with the expectation of finding a passage; but in less than half an hour afterwards, the bay was distinctly seen to be closed by low land, and the rocky lump proved to be an isolated mass of rock, about two miles inland. As every person on board was then satisfied of the non-existence of any channel, we put about to return, and by bearings of Mount Tarn, crossed by angles from Mount Graves, Nose Peak, and Point Boqueron, our position, and the extent of this bay, were determined. As it affords neither anchorage nor shelter, nor any other advantage for the navigator, we have named it Useless Bay. It was too much exposed to the prevailing winds to allow of our landing to examine the country, and its productions, or to communicate with the Indians; and as there was not much likelihood of finding anything of novel character, we lost no time in retreating from so exposed a place. Abreast of Point Boqueron the patent log gave for our run twenty-six miles, precisely the same distance which it had given in the morning; so that from five o'clock in the morning until ten, and from ten o'clock until four in the afternoon, we had not experienced the least tide, which of itself is a fact confirmatory of the non-existence of a channel.
From the fires of the natives in this part having been noticed at a distance from the beach, it would seem that they derive their subsistence from hunting rather than fishing; and as there are guanacoes on the south shore of the First Narrow, it is probable the people's habits resemble those of the Patagonians, rather than the Fuegians; but as they have no horses, the chase of so shy and swift an animal as the guanaco must be fatiguing and very precarious.98
Sarmiento is the only person on record who has communicated with the natives in the neighbourhood of Cape Monmouth. He calls them in his narrative a large race (Gente grande). There it was that he was attacked by the Indians, whom he repulsed, and one of whom he made prisoner.
We remained a night in Port Famine, and again set out in the Adelaide to survey some of the western parts of the Strait. Bad weather forced us into Port San Antonio; of which Cordova gives so favourable an account, that we were surprised to find it small and inconvenient, even for the Adelaide.
He describes the port to be a mile and a half long, and three quarters of a mile broad: we found the length a mile and a quarter, and the mean breadth scarcely a quarter of a mile. It possesses no one advantage that is not common to almost every other harbour and cove in the Strait; and for a ship, or square-rigged vessel of any kind, it is both difficult to enter, and dangerous to leave. Besides the local disadvantages of Port San Antonio, the weather in it is seldom fair, even when the day is fine elsewhere. It lies at the base of the Lomas Range, which rises almost perpendicularly to the height of three thousand feet, fronting the great western channel of the Strait, whence it receives upon its cold surface the western winds, and is covered by the vapour, which is condensed from them, while in all other parts the sun may be shining brightly.
This port is formed by a channel, a quarter of a mile wide, separating two islands from the shore. The best anchorage is off a picturesque little bay on the south island, which is thickly wooded to the water's edge with the holly leaved berberis,99 fuchsia, and veronica, growing to the height of twenty feet; over-topped and sheltered by large beech, and Winter's-bark trees, rooted under a thick mossy carpet, through which a narrow Indian path winds between arbutus and currant bushes, and round prostrate stems of dead trees, leading to the seaward side of the island. Upon the beach, just within the bushes, and sheltered by a large and wide-spreading fuchsia bush, in full flower, stood two Indian wigwams, which, apparently, had not been inhabited since the visit of poor Ainsworth. He had occupied these very wigwams for two days, having covered them over with the boat's sail; and remains of the ropeyarns that tied it down were still there: a melancholy memento.
In no part of the Strait did we find the vegetation so luxuriant as in this little cove. Some of the Winter's-bark and currant trees had shoots more than five feet long, and