On the following day a small party, consisting of North (the paymaster), three seamen, and myself, pulled over to the native camp. We were received on landing by four men with bludgeons in their hands, who did not seem at all glad to see us, and who seemed apprehensive of our approaching the hut, where the women had been jealously shut up. However, by a few presents of tobacco and biscuit, we established tolerably amicable relations, and were permitted to examine the canoe, which lay hauled half out of the water. It was composed of five planks, of which one, about twenty feet long and two and a half feet wide, formed the bottom, while the other four, each one and a half foot in width, formed the sides. The bottom plank was turned up at the ends, so as to form a flat bow and stern of nearly similar shape; and to this plank, as well as to each other, the side pieces were secured by a lacing passed through rude square shaped holes about an inch in area, which were made in an even row close to the edges of the planks. The lacing used for this purpose is the tough stem of a bignoniaceous creeper (the Campsidium chilense), which is commonly seen twining round the tall forest trees, forming festoons from branch to branch, and again extending from the horizontal branches vertically downwards like the cordage of a ship. Caulking was effected by stuffing the seams with moss and strips of the winter's bark (bark of the Drimys winteri), over which the lacing was carried; and the square-shaped holes were plugged with some pulpy vegetable matter, of which moss seemed to be the chief constituent. The oars were made of young stems of the Libocedrus tetragonus, to one end of which elliptical pieces of wood were lashed by way of blades. These oars were used in the ordinary way, the loom resting on crescentic-shaped crutches, fashioned out of a single piece of wood, and lashed to the gunwale. The everlasting Fuegian fire, from which Tierra del Fuego derives its name, burned in the middle of the boat, resting on a bed of clay; and the half-decomposed head of a seal, which either the natives or the dogs had recently been gnawing, completed the furniture of this crazy vessel. The hut in which the women were shut up was a haycock-shaped arrangement, composed of a skeleton framework of boughs, over which were thrown several old skins of the sea lion (Otaria jubata). The chief of this party, who was, by the way, the tallest Fuegian ever seen by us, we found by measurement to be five feet four inches in height. One hut accommodated the entire party, consisting, as I have said, of four men, four women, and five dogs.
The greater part of the subsequent four months was spent in the vicinity of the Trinidad Channel, which it was our special duty to survey; and as our movements during this period were most erratic, and we frequently paid five or six different visits to the same parts, I shall for a time abandon all chronological order, and speak of events according to the places in which they occurred.
But in the first place, in order to render my narrative more intelligible, I shall here give a brief general description of this region, referring to its climate, natural features, and inhabitants.
The weather is peculiar, for the rainfall is excessive, and as a rule there is not more than one moderately dry day out of the seven.
The peaks and ridges of the broken-up range of mountains, of which the islands and coast are formed, intercept the moisture-laden clouds which are being continually wafted from seaward by the prevailing westerly winds, frequent and long-continued downpours being the result. From observations taken with the rain gauge, we estimate the average daily rainfall to be 0·41 inch, and that of the wettest month of which we have had experience, viz., the month of April, 0·522 inch. The annual rainfall, estimated from the mean of eight months' observations, we find to be 149·65 inches. The mean annual temperature, estimated similarly from observations extending over the months of January, February, March, April, May, (nine days of) October, November, and December, we found to be 49·2, the extremes of temperature being 36° and 60°. When we reflect that the annual rainfall in London is about 23·5 inches, while the yearly average of temperature is 46·9 Fahr., we can realize the extent to which rainy weather prevails in this land, and the comparative coldness of its nevertheless equable climate. We were told by the master of a sealing schooner that the climate of Western Fuegia varied but little throughout the year, and that in his opinion the finest weather was to be found in mid-winter; and, indeed, on entering the channels in the month of October—that is, in the early spring—we ourselves found the appearance of the country but little different from our recollections of the previous midsummer. There was, perhaps, more snow on the hill-tops, but there was none at all on the lower slopes of the hills, and the evergreen vegetation seemed almost as luxuriant as during midsummer.
As might be expected from the large rainfall and comparatively equable temperature, this climate is very favourable to the growth of cryptogamous plants; ferns, mosses, and Hepaticæ abound, clothing the stems of dead and living trees, and occupying every shady nook and crevice. Among the ferns most commonly seen were several beautiful species of the genus Hymenophyllum. Of flowering plants there were also some of great beauty, the most attractive of which were the Philesia buxifolia, the Desfontainea hookeri, the Berberis ilicifolia, the B. empetrifolia, and the Embothrium coccineum. The former is a sort of under-shrub, of creeping habit, and is most commonly seen twining round the stem of the evergreen and antarctic beeches, to a height of six or eight feet from the ground, its lovely, rose-coloured, bell-shaped flowers showing to great advantage against the delicate background of ferns and mosses, which, growing from the bark of the tree, display the flowers, but almost conceal the branches of the twining Philesia. There is another beautiful plant, of the same natural order, met with in Southern Chili, which the people take great pride in, showing to strangers as the glory of their gardens. It is called the "Copigue" (Lapageria rosea). The only trees which attain to any reasonable size as such are the evergreen and antarctic beeches (Fagus antarctica and F. betuloides), the winter's bark (Drimys winteri), and the cypress (Libocedrus tetragonus). The bark of the Drimys winteri was formerly employed in medicine, but has latterly fallen into disuse, partly from the difficulty of obtaining the genuine article in Europe. It has tonic and stimulant properties. The infusion of the dried bark is so hot and peppery as to burn the tongue and throat; but, strangely enough, the spirit tincture extracts the tonic bitter with but very little of the peppery principle.
The summits of the low hills, which are usually bare of trees or brushwood, are covered with a sort of swamp formed of astelias, gaimardias, and calthas, whose interlacing roots form a more or less compact sod, which, as one walks on it, shakes from the fluctuation of the bog water beneath.
The rock of the district is a cross-grained syenite, intersected with dykes of greenstone, of very variable thickness. This is the prevalent rock; but about Port Rosario, on the north side of "Madre de Dios" island, there is an outcrop of limestone. The latter is of a pale-blue colour, in some cases assuming the character of marble; and when much exposed to the weather, presents a curious honeycombed appearance, due to the solvent action of the rain. This rock is unfossiliferous. The disintegration of the syenite from the usual atmospheric agencies is rapid enough; but the resulting detritus does not contribute to form a good clay.
If an artificial section be made of the soilcap, or if advantage be taken of a landslip to examine it carefully, it will be seen to be composed of a dense network of interlacing roots, containing in its interstices a small quantity of black mould, the latter increasing in proportion as the basement rock is reached. This spongy mass of tangled vegetation, ever saturated with moisture, is the soil on which the trees clothing the hillsides take root. On the little plateaus about the hill-tops, however, it only contains the roots of the marsh plants above mentioned, and those of an odd stunted bush. On first coming to this region, I was much struck on seeing that the forest approaches so close to the water's edge, and that the banks overhang so much that frequently the branches of the trees dip into the salt water; and in some places a black snag projecting above the surface of the inshore water tells the fate of a tree that had perished from immersion. These phenomena, among others to be hereafter alluded to, are, I think, to be attributed