The Land of Fire Part 14

This renewal of acquaintance, under circ.u.mstances so extraordinary as those detailed in the previous chapter, calls for explanation; for, although the incident may appear strange, and even improbable, it is, nevertheless, quite reasonable. How it came about will be learned from the following relation of facts:--

In the year 1838, the English Admiral Fitzroy--then Captain Fitzroy-- while in command of H.M.S. _Beagle_, engaged in the survey of Tierra del Fuego, had one of his boats stolen by the natives of Christmas Sound.

Pursuing the thieves, he made capture of a number of their relatives, but unfortunately not of the actual culprits. For a time he held the captives as hostages, hoping by that means to effect the return of the boat. Disappointed in this, however, he at length released them all, save three who voluntarily remained on board the _Beagle_.

These were two young men and a little girl; and all of them were soon after baptised by the sailors. One of the men had the name "Boat Memory" bestowed upon him, because he had been taken at the place where the boat was stolen. The other was christened "York Minster," after a remarkable mountain, bearing a fancied resemblance to the famed cathedral of York, near which he was captured. "Fuegia Basket," as the girl was called, was named from the wickerwork craft--a sort of coracle--that the crew of the stolen boat had improvised to carry them back to their ship.

Later on, the commander of the _Beagle_, while exploring the channel which now bears his ship's name, picked up another native of a different tribe. This was a young boy, who was bought of his own uncle for a b.u.t.ton--his unnatural relative freely parting with him at the price!

The transaction suggested the name given him, "Jemmy b.u.t.ton."

Returning soon after to England, Fitzroy, with truly philanthropic motives, took the four Fuegians along with him. His intentions were to have them educated and Christianised, and then restored to their native country, in hopes that they might do something toward civilising it. In pursuance of this plan, three of the Fuegians were put to school; the fourth, Boat Memory, having died soon after landing at Plymouth.

When Captain Fitzroy thought their training sufficiently advanced for his purpose, this humane officer, at his own expense, chartered a vessel to convey them back to Tierra del Fuego, intending to accompany them himself; and he did this, although a poor man, and no longer commanding a ship in commission; the _Beagle_, meanwhile, having been dismantled and laid up. Think of that, my young readers, and give praise to such n.o.ble self-sacrifice and disinterested philanthropy.

By good fortune, however, Captain Fitzroy was spared this part of the expense. The survey of Tierra del Fuego and adjacent coasts had not been completed, and another expedition was sent out by the British Admiralty, and the command of it entrusted to him. So proceeding thither in his old ship, the _Beagle_, once more in commission, he carried his Fuegian _proteges_ along with him.

There went with him, also, a man then little known, but now of world-wide and universal fame, a young naturalist named Darwin--Charles Darwin--he who for the last quarter of a century and till his death has held highest rank among men of science, and has truly deserved the distinction.

York Minster, Jemmy b.u.t.ton, and Fuegia Basket (in their own country respectively called Eleparu, Orundelico, and Ocushlu) were the three odd-looking individuals that Ned and Henry had rescued from the wharf-rats of Portsmouth; while the officer who appeared on the scene was Fitzroy himself, then on the way to Plymouth, where the _Beagle_, fitted out and ready to put to sea, was awaiting him.

In due time, arriving in Tierra del Fuego, the three natives were left there, with every provision made for their future subsistence. They had all the means and appliances to a.s.sist them in carrying out Captain Fitzroy's humane scheme: carpentering tools, agricultural implements, and a supply of seeds, with which to make a beginning. [Note 1.]

Since then nearly four years have elapsed, and lo!--the result. Perhaps never were good intentions more thoroughly brought to nought, nor clearer proofs given of their frustration, than these that Henry Chester and Ned Gancy have now before their eyes. Though unacquainted with most of the above details, they see a man, all but naked, his hair in matted tangle, his skin besmeared with dirt and blubber, in everything and to all appearances as rude a savage as any Fuegian around him, who is yet the same whom they had once seen wearing the garb and having the manners of civilisation! They see a girl, too,--now woman-grown--in whom the change, though less extreme, is still strikingly sadly for the worse.

In both, the transformation is so complete, so retrograde, so contrary to all experience, that they can scarcely realise it. It is difficult to believe that any nature, however savage, after such pains had been taken to civilise it, could so return to itself! It seems a very perversity of backsliding!

But this is not a time for the two young men to inquire into the cause of this falling away, nor might that be a pleasant subject to those who have thus relapsed, so they refrain from appearing even to notice it.

They are too overjoyed in knowing that they and their companions are no longer in danger.

Of their safety they have full and instant a.s.surance, by the behaviour of Eleparu, who has taken in the situation at a glance. Apparently head of the community, with a shout and authoritative wave of the hand he sends off those who so lately had threatened to attack them. But all seem friendly enough, now that they see him so, having, indeed, no reason to be otherwise. Hunger chiefly had made them hostile; and now they need hunger no more.

Accordingly, they at once set about appeasing their appet.i.tes--on blubber! Not with indiscriminate appropriation of it, for it is a supply that must carry them over days, or perhaps weeks. Annaqua, with another of the old men, serves it out in equal rations, first cutting it into strips, like strings of sausages, then measuring off different-sized pieces, according to the s.e.x and age of the recipients.

Strange to say, notwithstanding the keen hunger of those seeking relief, not one of them touches a morsel till the part.i.tion is complete and each has his share. Then, at a given signal, they fall to, bolting the blubber raw--only a few of the more fastidious holding it a second or two in the blaze of the fires, scarcely long enough to scorch it!

During these unpleasant _saturnalia_, mutual explanations are exchanged between Eleparu and the two young men of his former brief but memorable acquaintance. He first inquires how they come to be there; then tells his own story, or such part of it as he desires them to know. They learn from him that Ocushlu is now his wife; but when questioned about the boy, and what has become of him, he shows reserve, answering, "Oh, Jemmy b.u.t.ton--he not of our people; he Tekeneeka. English officer brought Jemmy back too--left him at Woolya--that his own country--lie out that way;" and he points eastward along the arm.

Observing his reticence on the subject of Orundelico, the questioners forbear asking further, while other matters of more importance claim their attention.

Meanwhile, Ocushlu is engaged in conversation with Mrs Gancy and Leoline. She is about the same age as the latter; but in other respects how different they are, and what a contrast they form! The poor Fuegian herself seems to realise it, and with sadness of heart. Who could interpret her thoughts when, after gazing at the beautiful white girl, clean-skinned and becomingly attired, her glance is turned to her own slightly-clad and uncleanly self? Perhaps she may be thinking of the time when, a schoolgirl at Walthamstow, she, too, wore a pretty dress, and perchance bitterly regrets having returned to her native land and barbarism. Certainly, the expression on her countenance seems a commingling of sadness and shame.

But whatever, at the moment, may be her reflections or feelings, ingrat.i.tude is not among them. Having learned that Leoline is the sister of one of the youths who so gallantly espoused the cause of her companions and herself in a far-off foreign land, she takes from her neck a string of the much-prized violet sh.e.l.ls, and hangs it around that of the white girl, saying, "For what your brother did at Portsmouth."

The graceful act is reciprocated, and with interest, both mother and daughter presenting her with such articles of apparel as they can spare, among them the costly scarf they so nearly had to part with in a less satisfactory way.

Equally grateful proves Eleparu. Seeing the unfinished boat, and comprehending the design, he lends himself to a.s.sist in its execution.

No slight a.s.sistance does he prove; as, during the many months pa.s.sed on board the _Beagle_, York had picked up some knowledge of ship-carpentry.

So the task of boat-building is resumed, this time to be carried on to completion. And with so great expedition, that in less than a week thereafter, the craft is ready for launching, and on the next day it is run off the "chocks" into the water, a score of the Fuegian men lending helping hands.

On the following morning, with the party of castaways and all their belongings on board, it is shoved off, and moves swiftly away, amidst a paean of friendly shouts from the savages. Eleparu leads the valedictory salute, and Ocushlu waves the red scarf high over her head.

Note 1. A young missionary named Mathews, who had volunteered, was taken out and left with them. But Captain Fitzroy, revisiting Woolya, the intended mission station, a few days after, found Mathews threatened with death at the hands of those he had hoped to benefit. During the interval, the savages had kept the poor fellow in constant fear for his life, even Jemmy b.u.t.ton and York having been unable to protect him.

Captain Fitzroy took him away, and he afterwards carried on missionary work among the Maories of New Zealand.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

BOAT AHOY!

The new boat behaves handsomely, even excelling in speed the lost gig, the oars and sailing-gear of which, luckily saved, have fitted it out complete. Under canvas, with a fair wind, they easily make ten knots an hour; and as they have such a wind for the remainder of the day, are carried into the Beagle Channel without need of wetting an oar.

At sunset they are opposite Devil Island, at the junction of the south-west and north-west arms of the channel; and as the night threatens to be dark, with a fog already over the water, they deem it prudent to put in upon the isle, despite its uncanny appellation.

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 superst.i.tious 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 pa.s.sed 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 b.u.t.ton'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 sarc.u.mstance, in thar bein' two sarts o' Tekeneekas: one harmless and rayther friendly disposed torst white people, t'other bein' jest the reva.r.s.e--'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 pa.s.sage leads out, knowed as the Murray Narrer. Tharfer, it'll all depend on which o'

the two lots Mister b.u.t.ton 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 sh.o.r.e, 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.