Narrative of the surveying voyages of His Majesty's ships Adventure and Beagle, between the years 1826 and 1836. Fitzroy Robert

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СКАЧАТЬ to the Strait of Magalhaens, the examination of this part of the coast was reserved for a future opportunity. On the 13th, we had reached within fifty miles of Cape Virgins, the headland at the entrance of the strait, but it was directly in the wind's eye of us. The wind veering to S.S.W., we made about a west course. At day-light the land was in sight, terminating in a point to the S.W., so exactly like the description of Cape Virgins and the view of it in Alison's voyage, that without considering our place on the chart, or calculating the previous twenty-four hours' run, it was taken for the Cape itself, and, no one suspecting a mistake, thought of verifying the ship's position. The point, however, proved to be Cape Fairweather. It was not a little singular, that the same mistake should have been made on board the Beagle, where the error was not discovered for three days.7

      From the appearance of the weather I was anxious to approach the land in order to anchor, as there seemed to be every likelihood of a gale; and we were not deceived, for at three o'clock, being within seven miles of the Cape, a strong wind sprung up from the S.W., and the anchor was dropped. Towards evening it blew so hard, that both ships dragged their anchors for a considerable distance.

      On the charts of this part of the coast the shore is described to be formed of "chalk hills, like the coast of Kent." To geologists, therefore, especially, as they were not disposed to believe that such was the fact, this was a question of some interest. From our anchorage the appearance of the land favoured our belief of the existence of chalk. The outline was very level and steep; precipitous cliffs of whitish colour, stratified horizontally, with their upper part occasionally worn into hollows, strongly resembled the chalk cliffs of the English coasts.

      The gale prevented our landing for three days, when (19th) a few minutes sufficed to discover that the cliffs were composed of soft clay, varying in colour and consistence, and disposed in strata running horizontally for many miles without interruption, excepting where water-courses had worn them away. Some of the strata were very fine clay, unmixed with any other substance, whilst others were plentifully strewed with round siliceous gravel,8 without any vestige of organic remains. The sea beach, from high-water mark to the base of the cliffs, is formed by shingle, with scattered masses of indurated clay of a green colour.9 Between the high and low tide marks there is a smooth beach of the same green clay as the masses above-mentioned, which appears to have been hardened by the action of the surf to the consistence of stone. Generally this beach extends for about one hundred yards farther into the sea, and is succeeded by a soft green mud, over which the water gradually deepens. The outer edge of the clay forms a ledge, extending parallel with the coast, upon the whole length of which the sea breaks, and over it a boat can with difficulty pass at low water.

      The very few shells we found were dead. Strewed about the beach were numbers of fish, some of which had been thrown on shore by the last tide, and were scarcely stiff. They principally belonged to the genus Ophidium; the largest that we saw measured four feet seven inches in length, and weighed twenty-four pounds. Many caught alongside the ship were, in truth, coarse and insipid; yet our people, who fed heartily upon them, called them ling, and thought them palatable. The hook, however, furnished us with a very wholesome and well-flavoured species of cod (Gadus). Attached to the first we found two parasitical animals; one was a Cymothoa, the other a species of Lernæa, which had so securely attached itself under the skin, as not to be removed without cutting off a piece of the flesh with it. An undescribed species of Muræna was also taken.

      Whilst we were on shore, the Beagle moved eight or nine miles nearer to the Cape, where Captain Stokes landed to fix positions of remarkable land. One peaked hill, from the circumstance of his seeing a large animal near it, he called Tiger Mount. Mr. Bowen shot a guanaco; and being at a distance in shore, unable to procure assistance, he skinned and quartered it with his pocket-knife, and carried it upon his shoulders to the boat.

      Next morning the ships weighed, and proceeded towards Cape Virgins.

      When a-breast of Cape Fairweather, the opening of the river Gallegos was very distinctly seen; but the examination of it was deferred to a future opportunity. Passing onward, the water shoaled to four fathoms, until we had passed extensive banks, which front the river.

      Our approach to the entrance of the Strait, although attended with anxiety, caused sensations of interest and pleasure not easily to be described. Though dangers were experienced by some navigators who had passed it, the comparative facility with which others had effected the passage showed that, at times, the difficulties were easily surmounted, and we were willing to suppose that in the former case there might have been some little exaggeration.

      The most complete, and, probably, the only good account of the navigation of the Strait of Magalhaens is contained in the narrative of Don Antonio de Cordova, who commanded the Spanish frigate Santa Maria de la Cabeza, on a voyage expressly for the purpose of exploring the strait. It was published under the title of 'Ultimo Viage al Estrecho de Magallanes.' That voyage was, however, concluded with only the examination of the eastern part, and a subsequent expedition was made, under the command of the same officer, the account of which was appended to the Cabeza's voyage; so that Cordova's expedition still retained the appellation of 'Ultimo Viage, &c.' It is written in a plain and simple style, gives a most correct account of every thing seen, and should therefore be in the possession of every person who attempts the navigation of the strait.

      Cordova's account of the climate is very uninviting. Speaking of the rigours of the summer months (January, February, and March), he says, "Seldom was the sky clear, and short were the intervals in which we experienced the sun's warmth: no day passed by without some rain having fallen, and the most usual state of the weather was that of constant rain."10

      The accounts of Wallis and Carteret are still more gloomy. The former concludes that part of his narrative with the following dismal and disheartening description: "Thus we quitted a dreary and inhospitable region, where we were in almost continual danger of shipwreck for near four months, having entered the strait on the 17th of December, and quitted it on the 11th of April 1767: a region where, in the midst of summer, the weather was cold, gloomy, and tempestuous, where the prospects had more the appearance of a chaos than of nature; and where for the most part the valleys were without herbage and the hills without wood."

      These records of Cordova and Wallis made me feel not a little apprehensive for the health of the crew, which could not be expected to escape uninjured through the rigours of such a climate. Nor were the narratives of Byron or Bougainville calculated to lessen my anxiety. In an account, however, of a voyage to the strait by M. A. Duclos Guyot, the following paragraph tended considerably to relieve my mind upon the subject: – "At length, on Saturday the 23d of March, we sailed out of that famous Strait, so much dreaded, after having experienced that there, as well as in other places, it was very fine, and very warm, and that for three-fourths of the time the sea was perfectly calm."

      In every view of the case, our proximity to the principal scene of action occasioned sensations of a peculiar nature, in which, however, those that were most agreeable and hopeful preponderated. The officers and crews of both ships were healthy, and elated with the prospect before them; our vessels were in every respect strong and sea-worthy; and we were possessed of every comfort and resource necessary for encountering much greater difficulties than we had any reason to anticipate.

      There has existed much difference of opinion as to the correct mode of spelling the name of the celebrated navigator who discovered this Strait. The French and English usually write it Magellan, and the Spaniards Magallanes; but by the Portuguese (and he was a native of Portugal) it is universally written Magalhaens. Admiral Burney and Mr. Dalrymple spell it Magalhanes, which mode I have elsewhere adopted, but I have since convinced myself of the propriety of following the Portuguese orthography for a name which, to this day, is very common both in Portugal and Brazil.

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