The Land of Fire Part 6

Fortunately for the spectators, the creatures are fur-seals, and not the fierce sea-lions; for the fur-seal is inoffensive, and shows fight only when forced to it. These are but acting in obedience to the most ordinary instinct, as they are seeking self-preservation by retreat to the sea--their true home and haven of safety.

The flurry lasts for but a brief while, ending as abruptly as it began.

When all the seals have pa.s.sed, our party resume the ascent and continue it till all stand upon the summit. But not _all_ in silence; for turning his eyes north-eastward, and seeing there a snow-covered mountain--a grand cone, towering thousands of feet above all the others--Seagriff plucks off his hat, and, waving it around his head, sends up a joyous huzza, cries out, "Now I know whar we are better 'n a hul s.h.i.+p full o' kompa an' kernometors kud tell us. _Yon's Sarmiento_!"

CHAPTER NINE.

AN UNNATURAL MOTHER.

"Yis, Capting, thet's Sarmiento, an' nary doubt of it," pursues the old sealer. "I'd reck'noise thet mountin 'mong a millyun. 'Tair the highest in all Feweego. [Note 1.] An' we must be at the mouth o'

Des'late Bay, jest as I wor suspectin'. Wal, 'ceptin' them ugly things I told ye 'bout, we kudn't be in a better place."

"Why?" inquires the Captain, dubiously.

"'Kase it ain't a bay at all; but the entrance to a soun' bearin' the name o' 'Whale-Boat Soun'.' An' thet's open water too, communicatin'

wi' another known ez 'Darwin Soun''--the which larst leads right inter the Beagle Channel."

"But what of all that, Chips? How can it help us?"

"Help us! Why, 'tair the very i-dentical thing ez 'll help us; our coorse is laid out to a p'int o' the komp.i.s.s! All we'll hev to do is to run east'ard through the Beagle Channel, an' then 'long the open coast to good Success Bay, in the Straits o' Le Maire. Thar we'll be a'most sure o' findin' some o' the sealin' vessels, thet bein' one o' thar rendeyvoos when they're fis.h.i.+n' roun' Staten Land."

"You think that better, then, than trying to the northward for the Straits of Magellan?" inquires Captain Gancy.

"Oceans o' odds better. To reach Magellan we'd hev to work out seaward ag'in, an' back past the 'Furies,' whar thar's all sorts o'

cross-currents to contend wi'. Whereas goin' east'ard through the Beagle, we'll hev both wind and tide a'most allers in our favour.

'Sides, there'd be no bother 'bout the coorse. 'Tair jest like steerin'

in a river, an' along the coast ag'in. I'm wall acquaint' wi' every inch o' 't."

That Captain Gancy, an experienced navigator, should be unacquainted with the Beagle Channel may seem strange. But at the time of which we write, this remarkable pa.s.sage was of recent discovery, and not yet laid down on the charts.

"How about the other matter?" he asks, in half whisper, glancing significantly toward his wife and daughter, who are but a few paces off.

"Will the Beagle course be any the safer for that?"

"I can't say 'twill, sir," is the answer, in like undertone. "Tho' it won't be any worse. Guess the danger's 'bout equil eytherways."

"What danger?" questions young Gancy, who has overheard the ugly word.

"O' the gig gettin' bilged, Mister Ed'ard," is the ready, but not truthful, rejoinder. "In coorse thar's rough seas everywhar through Fireland, an' wi' such a mite o' a boat, we'll hev to be on the keerful."

"Then," says the Captain, his mind made up, after long and minutely examining sea and coast all around through his gla.s.s, "then by the Beagle Channel be it. And we may as well set out at once. I can see nothing of the pinnace. If she'd weathered the gale and put in this way, they'd be sure to sail on for the mainland. In that case, they may sight us when we get well out on the open water."

"Jest so, Capting," says Seagriff, "an' as ye perpose, we mout as well make the start now. We kin gain nothin' by stayin' hyar."

"All right, then. Let us be off."

So saying, the skipper takes a last look through the binocular, with a lingering hope that something may still be seen of the consort boat; then, disappointed, he leads the way down to the landing-place.

Their further stay on the island is for but a few minutes,--while the two youths make a fresh raid on the penguinnery, and rob it of another dozen of the young birds, as boat stores. Some tussac-asparagus is also added, and then all resume their places on the thwarts, this time with everything properly stowed and s.h.i.+pshape. The painter is drawn in and the gig shoved off.

Once more under way, they encounter a heavy ground swell; but the breeze is in their favour, and, with the sail set, they are able to keep steadily before it. They have no trouble in making their course, as the sky is clear, and Sarmiento--an all-sufficient guide-post--always visible. But although neither Captain Gancy nor Seagriff has any anxiety as to the course, both seem anxious about something, all the while scanning the water ahead--the skipper through his gla.s.s, the old sealer with hand shading his eyes.

This attracting the attention of young Gancy, sharp at reading facial expression, as are most men who follow the sea, he asks, after a time, "What is it, father? You and Chips appear to be troubled about something."

"Wal, Mister Ed'ard, thar ain't ennythin' rumarkabul in thet, sitiwated ez we air; it's only nateral to be allers expectin' trouble o' some sort. You youngsters don't think o' thet, ez we old 'uns do."

The old sealer has made haste to answer a question not put to him. He fears that the skipper, in his solicitude as husband and father, may break down, and betray the secret that oppresses them.

Vain the attempt at concealing it longer; for the very next instant the Captain himself exclaims,--

"Ha! yonder! A boat full of people putting off from the sh.o.r.e!"

"Mout it be the pinnace, Capting?"

"No, Chips; it's some sort of native craft. Look for yourself." And he hands him the binocular.

"Yer right, sir," says Seagriff, after a look through the gla.s.s. "A Feweegin canoe it air, an' I do believe they're _Ailikoleeps_. Ef so, we may look out for squalls."

Both his words and tone tell of fear,--confessed at last, since he knows it can no longer be concealed. But the others are only surprised, for as yet they are ignorant of any danger which may arise from an interview with the natives, of whom they know nothing.

Meanwhile, the canoe has pulled well out from the sh.o.r.e--the northern one--and is evidently making to meet the gig in mid-water, an encounter which cannot be avoided, the breeze being now light, and the boat having little way, nothing like enough to shun the encounter. Seeing it to be inevitable, the Captain says, "We may as well show a bold front, and speak them, I suppose?"

"Yes," a.s.sents Seagriff, "thet air the best way. 'Sides, thar's no chance o' our gettin' past 'em out o' reach o' thar sling-stones. But I guess we hevn't much to fear from thet lot, ef thar aren't others to jine 'em; an' I don't see any others."

"Nor do I," indorses the Captain, sweeping the sh.o.r.e-line with his gla.s.s. "It's the only craft I can see anywhere."

"Wal, _it_ ain't on a warlike bender, whether Ailikoleep or no, seein'

as thar's weemen an' childer in 't. So I reck'n thar's nothin' to be skeart about jest yet, though you niver kin tell for sartin what the critters air up to till they show it themselves."

By this, the Fuegians have approached near enough for hailing, which, however, they have been doing all along, shouting in high-pitched voices, and frantically gesticulating.

They cry, "Ho-say! ho-say!" in quick repet.i.tion, two of them standing up and waving skins of some sort above their heads.

"Thet means to hold palaver, an' hev a d.i.c.ker wi' 'em," says Seagriff.

"They want to trade off thar pelts an' sech-like for what we can give them in exchange."

"All right," a.s.sents the Captain. "Be it so; and we may as well douse the sail and heave to--we're making no way, any how." At this the sail is lowered, and the boat lies motionless on the water, awaiting the approach of the canoe.

In a few seconds the native craft comes paddling up, but for a time keeps beyond grappling distance--a superfluous precaution on the part of the Fuegians, but very agreeable to those in the gig. Especially so now that they have a nearer view of the occupants of the native craft.

There are, in all, thirteen of them; three men, four women, and the rest girls and boys of different ages, one of the women having an infant tied to her by a scarf fastened over one of her shoulders. Nearly a dozen dogs are in the canoe also--diminutive, fox-like animals with short ears, resembling the Esquimaux breed, but smaller. Of the human element--if human it can be called--all are savages of the lowest type and wildest aspect, their coa.r.s.e s.h.a.ggy hair hanging like loose thatch over low foreheads, and partially shading their little, bleary red eyes.

Hideous are they to very deformity. Nor is their ugliness diminished, but rather heightened, by a variety of pigments--ochre, charcoal, and chalk--laid thick upon their faces and bodies with an admixture of seal-oil or blubber. The men are scantily clothed, with only one kind of garment, a piece of skin hung over their shoulders and lashed across the chest, and all the women wearing a sort of ap.r.o.n skirt of penguin-skins.

The canoe is a rough, primitive structure: several breadths of bark st.i.tched together with sinews of the seal, and gathered up at the ends.

Along each side a pole is lashed joining the gunwale-rail, while several stout pieces laid crosswise serve as beam timbers. In the bottom, amids.h.i.+ps, is a mud hearth on which burns a fire, with sticks set up around it to dry. There are three compartments in the craft, separated from one another by the cross-pieces: in the forward one are various weapons--spears, clubs, and sling-stones--and fis.h.i.+ng implements. The amids.h.i.+ps section holds the fire-hearth, the men having place on the forward side of it; the women, who do the paddling, are seated farther aft; while in the stern division are stowed the boys, girls, and dogs.

Such is the picture taken in by the gig's people at a glance, for they have neither time nor opportunity to examine it minutely, as the Fuegians keep up a continual shouting and gesticulating, their hoa.r.s.e guttural voices mingled with the barking of the dogs making a very pandemonium of noise.

A sign from Seagriff, however, and a word or two spoken in their own tongue, brings about a lull and an understanding, and the traffic commences. Sea-otter and fox-skins are exchanged for such useless trifles as chance to be in the gig's lockers, the savage hucksters not proving exorbitant in their demands. Two or three broken bottles, a couple of empty sardine-boxes, with some b.u.t.tons and sc.r.a.ps of coloured cloth, buy up almost all their stock-in-trade, leaving them not only satisfied, but under the belief that they have outwitted the _akifka-akinish_ (white men).