Produced by Greg Bergquist, Melissa McDaniel, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. CRUSOE'S ISLAND: A Ramble in the Footsteps of Alexander Selkirk. WITH SKETCHES OF ADVENTURE IN CALIFORNIA AND WASHOE. BY J. ROSS BROWNE, AUTHOR OF "ETCHINGS OF A WHALING CRUISE," "YUSEF," &c. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four, by HARPER & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. CONTENTS. CRUSOE'S ISLAND. CHAPTER PAGE I. THE BOAT ADVENTURE 9 II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE ISLAND 22 III. GOING ASHORE 25 IV. CONDITION OF THE ISLAND IN 1849 28 V. ROBINSON CRUSOE'S CAVE 37 VI. THE VALLEY ON FIRE 48 VII. THE CAVE OF THE BUCCANEERS 54 VIII. LODGINGS UNDER GROUND 55 IX. COOKING FISH 62 X. RAMBLE INTO THE INTERIOR 71 XI. THE VALLEY OF ENCHANTMENT 75 XII. A STRANGE DISCOVERY 77 XIII. THE STORM AND ESCAPE 86 XIV. THE AMERICAN CRUSOE 91 XV. CASTLE OF THE AMERICAN CRUSOE 96 XVI. DIFFICULTY BETWEEN ABRAHAM AND THE DOUBTER 99 XVII. THE MURDER 106 XVIII. THE SKULL 112 XIX. THE GOVERNOR'S VISION 117 XX. THE DOUBTER'S DYSPEPTIC STORY 120 XXI. BAD DREAM CONCERNING THE DOUBTER 123 XXII. THE UNPLEASANT AFFAIR OF HONOR 127 XXIII. DR. STILLMAN'S JOURNAL 142 XXIV. CONFIDENTIAL CHAT WITH THE READER 147 XXV. EARLY VOYAGES TO JUAN FERNANDEZ 151 XXVI. ALEXANDER SELKIRK AND ROBINSON CRUSOE 161 A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. I. THE CANNIBAL 167 II. THE MIRAGE 172 III. A DEATH STRUGGLE 180 IV. THE OUTLAW'S CAMP 189 V. THE ESCAPE 201 VI. A LONELY RIDE 209 VII. THE ATTACK 214 VIII. SAN MIGUEL 222 IX. A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE 228 X. A TRAGEDY 235 OBSERVATIONS IN OFFICE. I. MY OFFICIAL EXPERIENCES 249 II. THE GREAT PORT TOWNSEND CONTROVERSY, SHOWING HOW WHISKY BUILT A CITY 270 III. THE INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA 284 A PEEP AT WASHOE. I. INTRODUCTORY 309 II. START FOR WASHOE 322 III. ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS 350 IV. AN INFERNAL CITY 365 V. SOCIETY OF VIRGINIA CITY 385 VI. ESCAPE FROM VIRGINIA CITY 394 VII. MY WASHOE AGENCY 404 VIII. START FOR HOME 416 IX. ARRIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO 430 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. CRUSOE'S ISLAND. Map of Juan Fernandez Page 9 Leaving the Ship 13 Boat in a Storm 16 Struck by a Flaw 18 Shipwrecked Sailor 19 Juan Fernandez 23 Crusoe's Castle 26 Crusoe at Home 27 Plan of the Convict Cells 28 Convict Cells 30 Chilian Huts 31 Walrus, or Sea Lion 36 Crusoe's Cave 39 A Relic of Crusoe 40 Crusoe's Devotions 41 The Valley with the Cave and Cliff 42 Dream-land Crusoe 44 Fairy Cove 45 Rescue of Friday 46 Crusoe Asleep 48 The Californians in Juan Fernandez 51 Fishing 53 Crusoe and his Comrades 57 Cooking in Juan Fernandez 62 The Cliff 64 Abraham on the Peak 69 The Trogon 74 The Valley 76 The Skull 85 The American Crusoe 92 Tragic Fate of the Scotchman 107 The Lovers 109 Grave of the murdered Man 111 The Doubter 121 The Footprint in the Sand 124 The Savage Orgies 125 The Doubter back again 133 Swallowing an Island 140 Dreams and Realities 145 Peak of Yonka 146 Scenery of Juan Fernandez 148 Killing Savages 149 The Author à la Robinson Crusoe 150 Chilian and Chilienne 157 A DANGEROUS JOURNEY Mirage in the Salinas Valley 168 Pass of San Juan 173 Antelopes in the Mirage 175 Vulture in the Mirage 176 Soledad 178 A Duel à la Mort 186 The Camp 192 Jack 193 A lonely Ride 210 The Attack 217 San Miguel 224 A Spanish Caballero 226 Valley of Santa Marguerita 230 Lassoing a Grizzly 233 The Belle of the Fandango 239 OBSERVATIONS IN OFFICE The Duke of York, Queen Victoria, and Jenny Lind 274 The Diggers at Home 285 Out in the Mountains 301 Protecting the Settlers 305 A PEEP AT WASHOE The Bummer 311 Going to Kern River 312 Returning from Kern River 313 Ho! for Frazer River 315 Returned from Frazer River 318 Hurrah for Washoe 321 The Agency 323 "I say, Cap!" 326 Dollars with Spider legs (a Dream) 327 "Go it, Washoe!" 329 The Pocket Pistol 331 California Stage-driver 333 Whisky below 334 "Carambo! Caraja--Sacramento!--Santa Maria!--Diavolo!" 335 Board and Lodging 337 Grindstones 339 A Speculator 341 Dinner at Strawberry 345 The Lay-out 348 The Stocking-thief 349 The Trail from Strawberry 351 "We are waiting for you" 354 A short Cut 355 Diogenes 358 Carson City 362 The Stage 369 The Devil's Gate 371 Virginia City 373 A Question of Title 375 "My Claim, Sir!" 377 Gold Hill 379 San Francisco Speculators 380 Assay Office 381 A Fall 384 The Comstock Lead 386 The Claims 389 "Silver, certain, Sir" 391 "Indications, sure!" 393 An old Friend 399 Carson Valley 403 Holding on to it 405 Mount Ophir 407 Croppings 408 The Flowery Diggings 409 Honest Miner 410 "A gloomy Prospect" 411 Return from Washoe 417 Outgoing and Incoming 419 The Jew's Boots 421 Snow Slide 424 The Grade 427 Return to San Francisco 433 Reading extra Bulletin 436 CRUSOE'S ISLAND. CHAPTER I. THE BOAT ADVENTURE. [Illustration: MAP OF JUAN FERNANDEZ.] My narrative dates as far back as the early part of the year 1849. Then the ship Anteus was a noted vessel. Many were the strange stories told of strife and discord between the captain and the passengers; pamphlets were published giving different versions of the facts, and some very curious questions of law were involved in the charges made by both parties. It appeared from the statement of the passengers, who were for the most part intelligent and respectable Americans, that, on the voyage of the Anteus to California, their treatment by the captain was cruel and oppressive in the extreme; that, before they were three weeks from port, he had reduced them almost to a state of absolute starvation; and, in consequence of the violence of his conduct, which, as they alleged, was without cause or provocation on their part, they considered their lives endangered, and resolved upon making an appeal for his removal at the port of Rio. On the arrival of the vessel at Rio the captain was arraigned before the American consul, and pronounced to be insane by the evidence of six physicians and by the testimony of a large majority of the passengers. It was charged, on the other hand, that the passengers were disorderly, mutinous, and ungovernable; that they had entered into a conspiracy against the captain, and in testifying to his insanity were guilty of perjury. The examination of the case occupied several weeks before the American consul; voluminous testimony was taken on both sides; the question was submitted to the American minister, to the British consul, and to the principal merchants of Rio, all of whom concurred in the opinion that, under the circumstances, there was but one proper course to pursue, which was, to remove the captain from the command of the vessel. He was accordingly deposed by the American consul, and a new captain placed in the command. This was regarded by the principal merchants of New York as an arbitrary exercise of authority, unwarranted by law or precedent, and a memorial was addressed by them to the President of the United States for the removal of the consul. A new administration had just come into power; and the consul was removed, ostensibly on the ground of the complaints made against him; but, inasmuch as some few other officers of the government were removed at the same time without such ground, it may be inferred that a difference in political opinion had some weight with the administration. It is not my intention now to go into any argument in regard to the merits of this case; the time may come when justice will be done to the injured, and it remains for higher authority than myself to mete it out. I have simply to acknowledge, with a share of the odium resting upon me, that I was one of the rebellious passengers in the Anteus. My companions in trouble so far honored me with their confidence as to give me charge of the case. I was unlearned in law, yet possessed some experience in sea-life; and believing that the lives of all on board depended upon getting rid of a desperate and insane captain, aided to the best of my ability in having a new officer placed in the command. To the change thus made, unforeseen in its results, I owe my eventful visit to the island of Juan Fernandez. It was the intention of our first captain to touch at Valparaiso for a supply of fresh provisions. In the ship's papers this was the only port designated on the Pacific side except San Francisco. Our new commander, Captain Brooks, assumed the responsibility of leaving the choice between Valparaiso and another port to the passengers. It was put to the vote, and decided that we should proceed to Callao, so that we might pass in sight of Juan Fernandez, and have an opportunity of visiting Lima, "the City of the Kings." Early on the morning of the 19th of May, 1849, we made the highest peak of Massa Tierra, bearing N.N.W., distant seventy miles. The weather was mild and clear. As the sun rose, it fell calm, and the ship lay nearly motionless. A light blue spot, scarce bigger than a hand-spike, was all that appeared in the horizon. It might have passed for a cloud but for the distinctness of its outline. Weary of the gales we had encountered off Cape Horn, it was a pleasant thing to see a spot of earth once more, and there was not a soul on board but felt a desire to go ashore. For some days past, myself and a few others had talked secretly among ourselves about making the attempt in case we went close enough; but now there seemed to be every prospect of a long calm, and we took it for granted the captain would clap on all sail if we took the trades. There was no other chance but to lower one of the boats and row seventy miles. A party of us agreed to do this, provided we could get a boat. The ship's boats we knew it would be impossible to get without permission of the captain, and that we were not willing to ask. Mr. Brigham, a fellow-passenger, was owner of one of the quarter-boats. We broached the matter to him, and he gladly joined in the adventure, together with his partner and some friends, so that we made in all a very pleasant party of eleven. The proper number of men for the boat was six, but in consideration of the great distance and the necessity of a change at the oars, five more were crowded in. We had been in the habit of rowing about the vessel whenever it was calm, and this we thought would be a good excuse for lowering the boat. Being in great haste, lest the captain should object to letting us go, we only thought of a few necessary articles in case we should be cast away or driven off from the island. Two small demijohns of water, a few biscuits, a piece of dried beef, and some cheese and crackers comprised our entire stock of provisions; and for nautical instruments we had only a lantern and a small pocket compass. Not knowing but there might be outlaws or savages ashore who might undertake to murder us, we armed ourselves with a double-barreled gun, a fusee, and an old harpoon, which was all we could smuggle into the boat in the excitement of starting. Captain Brooks happening to come on deck, perceived that there was something unusual going on, and, suspecting our design, took occasion to warn us of the folly of such an expedition. At the same time, thinking there was more bravado than reality about it, he laughed good-humoredly when we acknowledged that we were going ashore. "Be sure," said he, as we went over the side, "not to forget the peaches. You will find plenty of them up in the valleys. Only don't lose sight of the vessel. You may exercise yourselves as much as you please, but keep the royals above water, whatever you do. Bear in mind that you are more than seventy miles from that peak!" We promised him that we would take care of ourselves, and come back safe in case we were not foundered. At 9 A.M. we bade our friends good-by, and with three cheers pushed off from the ship. The boat was only twenty-two feet long and an eighth of an inch thick: it was made of sheet-iron, and was very narrow and crank. Most of us, except myself and a whaleman named Paxton, were unused to rowing, so that the prospect of reaching land depended a good deal upon the day remaining calm, and upon keeping the boat trimmed, the gunwales being only ten inches out of the water. [Illustration: LEAVING THE SHIP.] There was no excuse for this risk of life, save that insatiable thirst for novelty which all experience to some extent after the monotony of a long voyage. I will only say, in regard to myself, that I was too full of joy at the idea of a ramble in the footsteps of Robinson Crusoe to think of risk at all. If there was danger, it merely served to give zest to the adventure. By a calculation of the distance and our rate of going, we expected to reach the land by sundown or soon after; and then our plan was to make a tent of the boat-sail, and sleep under it till morning, when by rising early we thought we could take a run over the island, and perhaps get some fruit and vegetables. By that time, should a light breeze spring up during the night, we thought it likely the ship would be well up by the land, and we could pull out and get on board without difficulty. Before long we found that distances are very deceptive in these latitudes where the atmosphere is so clear; for notwithstanding the statement of the captain that by the reckoning we were seventy miles from land, we believed that he only told us so to deter us from going, and that we were not much more than half that distance. In rowing we made a division of our number, taking turns or watches of an hour each at the oars, so as to share the labor. Once fairly under way, with a smooth sea and a pleasant day before us, we became exceedingly merry at the expense of our fellow-passengers whom we had left in the ship to drift about in the calm, and it afforded us much diversion to think how they would be disappointed upon finding that we were in earnest about going ashore. Before long we had cause to wish ourselves back again in the ship, which goes to prove that apparently the most unfortunate are often less so than those who seem to be favored by circumstances. At noon we took a lunch, and refreshed ourselves with a drink of water all round. We had also a good supply of cigars, which we smoked with great relish after our pull; and I think there never was a happier set than we were for the time. Still there was but a single peak on the horizon. It was blue and dim in the distance, and apparently not much higher than when we saw it from the mast-head, from which we inferred that there must be a current setting against us. The Anteus was hull down, yet we seemed as far from the land as when we started. A ripple beginning to show upon the water, we hoisted our sail to catch the breeze, and found that it helped us one or two knots an hour. With songs and anecdotes we passed the time pleasantly till 3 P.M., when we entirely lost sight of the vessel. Paxton, the whaleman, now stood up in the boat to take an observation of the land. There were a few more peaks in sight; the middle peak, which was the first we made, began to loom up very plainly, showing a flat top. It was the mountain called Yonka, which is said to be three thousand feet high. We were apparently forty miles yet from the nearest point; and the sun setting here in May at a little after five, we began to feel uneasy concerning the weather, which showed signs of a change. All of us, having gone so far, were in favor of keeping on, though in secret we thought there was a good deal of danger. At sunset we took another observation. The land had risen quite over the water from end to end, and we hoped to reach it in about three hours. It is true none of us knew any thing about the shores, whether they abounded in bays or not, and if so where any safe place of landing could be found, which made us doubtful how to steer. Clouds were gathering all over the horizon; a few stars shone out dimly overhead, and the shades of night began to cover the island as with a shroud. Swiftly, yet with resistless power, the clouds swept over the whole sky, and the horizon, in all the grandeur of its vast circle, was lost in the shades of night. No sail was near; no light shone upon us now but the dim rays of a few solitary stars through the rugged masses of clouds; no sound broke upon the listening ear save the weary stroke of our oars: a gloom had settled upon the mighty wilderness of waters, and we were awed and silent, for we knew that the spirit of God was there, and darkness was his secret place; that "his pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies." One large black mass of clouds rose up on the weather quarter; a low moaning came over the sea, and the air became suddenly chill, and the waters rippled around us, and were tossed about by the unseen Power, and we trembled, for we beheld the coming of the storm that was soon to burst upon us in all the majesty of its wrath. For a while there was the stillness of death; then "the Lord thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his voice," and out of the darkness came the storm. In fierce and sudden gusts it came, terrible in its resistless might; lashing the sea into a white foam, tossing and whirling overhead, with its thousand arms outstretched; grasping up the waters as it raged over the deep, and scourging them madly through the air, while it moaned and shrieked like the dread spirit of desolation. [Illustration: BOAT IN A STORM.] Every one of us cowered down in the boat to keep her balanced. The spray washed over us fearfully, and the sail shook so in the wind, having let go all, that we thought it would tear the mast out. At this time we were about three leagues from the S.E. end of the island, which was the nearest point then in sight. As the cloud spread by the attraction of the land, the whole island became wrapped in a dark shroud of mist, and in half an hour we could discern nothing but the gloom of the storm around us, as we bore down toward the darkest part on the lea. Our lamp was now quenched by a heavy sea, and being unable to distinguish the points of the compass, we were fearful we should miss the island and be carried off so far that we could never reach it again. Whenever there was a lull we tried to haul in our sheet, but a sudden flaw striking us once, the boat lay over till she buried her gunwales, and the sea broke heavily over her lee side, and the crew at the same time springing in a body to the weather side, to balance her, brought her over suddenly, so that it was a miracle we were not capsized, which, had it happened so far out at sea in the darkness, would have made an end of us. Indeed, it was as much as we could do, by baling continually, to keep her afloat, and every moment we expected to be buried in a watery grave. For the reason that we feared the tide or current which set against us might carry us off beyond reach of the land, we kept up our sail as long as we could, thinking that while we made headway toward the lee of the island we increased our chance of safety. Moreover, we knew it was four hundred miles to the coast of Chili, and we had neither water nor provisions left. At best our position was perilous. Ignorant of the bearings of the harbor, we were at a loss what to do even if we should be able to reach the lee of the island, for we had seen that it was chiefly rock-bound and inaccessible to boats. About 2 A.M., as well as we could judge, we found ourselves close in under the lee of a high cliff, upon the base of which the surf broke with a tremendous roar. Some three or four of the party, reckless of the consequences, were in favor of running straight in, and attempting to gain the shore at all hazards. The more prudent of us protested against the folly of this course, well knowing that we would be capsized in the surf and dashed to pieces on the rocks. Here we found the evils of having too many masters in an adventure of this kind, where every man who had a will of his own seemed disposed to use it. However, by mild persuasion, we adjusted the difficulty, and agreed to continue on under the lee, where we were sheltered in some degree from the gale, till we should hit upon some safe harbor, if such there was upon the island. The boat was our only resource in case of being left ashore, and all admitted the necessity of preserving it as long as possible. If we found no harbor, we could lie off a short distance and wait till daylight. This plan was so reasonable that none could object to it. As soon as we were well in by the shore, where the gale was cut off by the mountains, we had a light eddy of air in our favor, which induced us to keep up our sail. We soon found the danger of this. A strong flaw from a gap in the land struck us suddenly, and would have capsized us had we not let go every thing, and clung to the weather gunwale till it was over, when we quickly pulled down the sail and took to the oars. [Illustration: STRUCK BY A FLAW.] We could see nothing on our starboard but the wild seas as they rolled off into the darkness; on our larboard, a black perpendicular wall of rocks loomed up hundreds of feet high, reaching apparently into the clouds. Sometimes a part of the outline came out clear, with its rugged pinnacles against the sky, and now and then a fearful gorge opened up as we coasted along, through which the wind moaned dismally. It was a very wild and awful place in the dead of night, being so covered with darkness that we scarce knew where we steered, or how soon we might be dashed to pieces in the surf. Once in a while we stopped to listen, thinking we heard voices on the shore, but it was only the moaning of the tempest upon the cliffs, and the frightful beating of the surf below. We seemed almost to be able to touch the black and rugged wall of rocks that stood up out of the sea, and the shock of the returning waves so jarred the boat at times that we clung to the thwarts, and believed we were surely within the jaws of death. As the voices died away which we thought came out from the cliffs there was a lull in the storm, and nothing but the wail of the surf could be heard, sounding very sad and lonesome in gloom of night. It was a dreary and perpetual dirge for the ill-fated mariners who were buried upon that inhospitable shore; a death-moan that forever rises out of the deep for the souls that are lost, and the hearts that can never be united with those that love them upon earth again. I thought how well it was writ by the poet-- "Oh, Solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms. Than reign in this horrible place." [Illustration: SHIPWRECKED SAILOR.] Having pulled about twelve miles along the shore from Goat Island, where we first got under the lee, and seeing no sign of a cove or harbor, we began to despair of getting ashore before daylight. In this extremity, Abraham, a ship-neighbor of mine, succeeded in lighting the lantern again, which he held out in his hand from the bow, hoping thereby to cast a light upon the rocks, that we might grope out our way and reach some place of safety; but it only seemed to make the darkness thicker than it was before. We therefore concluded it was best to pull on till we rounded a point some few miles ahead, where we thought there might be a cove. So we put out the light and got Paxton to go in the bow as a look-out, he being the most keen-sighted, from the habit of looking from the mast-head for whales. On turning the point we were startled by a loud cry of "Light, ho!" Every body turned to see where it appeared. It was close down by the water, about three miles distant, within a spacious cove that opened upon us as we turned the point. Paxton's quick eye had descried it the moment we hove round the rock. Greatly rejoiced by this discovery, we pulled ahead with a good will and rapidly bore down toward the light. Chilled through with the sharp gusts from the mountains, wet with spray, and very hungry, we congratulated ourselves that there were still inhabitants on the island, and we could not but think they would give us something to eat, and furnish us with some place of shelter. Captain Brooks had told us that he had been here several times in a whaler; that sometimes people lived upon the island from the coast of Chili, and sometimes it was entirely deserted. The Chilians who frequented this lonely island we knew to be a very bad set of people, chiefly convicts and outcasts, who would not hesitate to rob and murder any stranger whom misfortune or the love of adventure might cast in their power. Pirates, also, had frequented its bays from the time of the buccaneers; and it was a question with us whether the light was made by these outlaws, or by some unfortunate shipwrecked sailors or deserters from some English or American whale-ship. The better to provide against danger, we loaded our two guns, and placed them in the bow, as also the harpoon; upon which we steered for the light. All of a sudden it disappeared, as if quenched by water. This was a new source of trouble. What could it mean? There was no doubt we had all seen it. The early voyagers had often seen strange lights at night on the tops of the mountains, which they attributed to supernatural causes; but this was close down by the water, and was too well defined and too distinctly visible to us all either to be a supernatural visitation or the result of some volcanic eruption. While we lay upon our oars wondering what it meant, it again appeared, brighter than before. Now, if the inhabitants were not pirates or freebooters, why did they pursue this mysterious conduct? We suspected that they heard our oars, and had lit a fire on the beach to guide us ashore; but if they wanted us to land in the right place, why did they put out the light and start it up again so strangely? For half an hour it continued thus to disappear and reappear at short intervals in the same mysterious way, for which none of us could account. It being now about four o'clock in the morning, we felt so cast down by fatigue and dread of death, that we decided to run in at all hazards, and, if necessary, make our way through the breakers. All hands fell to upon the oars, and soon the light bore up again close on by the head. Paxton, who was in the bow, quickly started up, and began peering sharply through the gloom. "What's that?" said he: "look there, my lads. I see something black; don't you see it--there, on the larboard--it looks to me like the hull of a ship! Pull, my lads, pull!" and so all gave way with a will, and in a few minutes the tall masts of a vessel loomed up against the sky within a hundred yards! I shall never forget the joy of the whole party at that sight. The light which we had seen came from a lamp that swung in the lower rigging, and though the ship might be a Chilian convict vessel, or some other craft as little likely to give us a pleasant reception, yet we were too glad to think of that, and straightway pulled up under her stern and hailed her. For a moment there was a pause as our voices broke upon the stillness; then there was a stir on deck, and a voice answered us in clear sailor-like English, "Boat ahoy! where are you from?" "The ship Anteus," said we, "bound for California; what ship is this?" "The Brooklyn, of New York, bound for California. Come on board!" No longer able to suppress our joy, we gave vent to three hearty cheers--cheers so loud and genuine that they swept over the waters of Juan Fernandez, and went rolling up the valleys in a thousand echoes. In less than five minutes we were all on deck, thankful for our providential deliverance from the horrors of that eventful night. CHAPTER II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE ISLAND. The decks of the Brooklyn presented a strange and half-savage scene. Most of the passengers, aroused from their sleep by the shouts of the officers and crew, had rushed upon deck nearly naked, and quite at a loss to know what had happened. While we were answering some of their questions, Captain Richardson, the master, pushed his way through the crowd and asked what all the noise was about. We speedily explained how we had left the Anteus seventy miles out at sea, and how, through the aid of Providence, we had made our way into the harbor and descried the ship's lamp; declaring at the same time our belief that, had we missed the ship, in all probability we would have been dashed to pieces upon the rocks. We then made ourselves known personally to the captain, who was well acquainted with some of the party. He cordially welcomed us on board, and invited us into his cabin, where we gave him a more detailed account of our adventure. Meantime the cook was ordered to get us some breakfast as soon as possible, and Captain Richardson offered us dry clothes, and administered to our wants in the kindest manner. Nor was it long till we felt exceedingly comfortable considering the previous circumstances. We soon had breakfast, which, after our toils and troubles, was truly a Godsend. Some of the finest fish I ever ate was on the table; excellent ham and potatoes also, fresh bread, and coffee boiling hot. It was devoured with a most uncommon relish, as you may suppose; and it was none the less agreeable for being seasoned with pleasant conversation. [Illustration: JUAN FERNANDEZ.] The captain admitted that in all his seafaring career he had never known of any thing more absurd than our adventure, and that it was a miracle we were not every one lost. All the passengers crowded around us as if we had risen from the depths of the sea, and I fancied they examined us as if they had an idea that we were some kind of sea-monsters. The Brooklyn lay at anchor about half a mile from the boat-landing. At the dawn of day I was on the deck, looking eagerly toward the island. I may as well confess at once that no child could have felt more delighted than I did in the anticipation of something illusive and enchanting. My heart throbbed with impatience to see what it was that cast so strange a fascination about that lonely spot. All was wrapped in mist; but the air was filled with fresh odors of land, and wafts of sweetness more delicious than the scent of new-mown hay. The storm had ceased, and the soft-echoed bleating of goats, and the distant baying of wild dogs were all the sounds of life that broke upon the stillness. It seemed as if the sun, loth to disturb the ocean in its rest, or reveal the scene of beauty that lay slumbering upon its bosom, would never rise again, so gently the light stole upon the eastern sky, so softly it absorbed the shadows of night. I watched the golden glow as it spread over the heavens, and beheld at last the sun in all his majesty scatter away the thick vapors that lay around his resting-place, and each vale was opened out in the glowing light of the morning, and the mountains that towered out of the sea were bathed in the glory of his rays. Never shall I forget the strange delight with which I gazed upon that isle of romance; the unfeigned rapture I felt in the anticipation of exploring that miniature world in the desert of waters, so fraught with the happiest associations of youth; so remote from all the ordinary realities of life; the actual embodiment of the most absorbing, most fascinating of all the dreams of fancy. Many foreign lands I had seen; many islands scattered over the broad ocean, rich and wondrous in their romantic beauty; many glens of Utopian loveliness; mountain heights weird and impressive in their sublimity; but nothing to equal this in variety of outline and undefinable richness of coloring; nothing so dreamlike, so wrapped in illusion, so strange and absorbing in its novelty. Great peaks of reddish rock seemed to pierce the sky wherever I looked; a thousand rugged ridges swept upward toward the centre in a perfect maze of enchantment. It was all wild, fascinating, and unreal. The sides of the mountains were covered with patches of rich grass, natural fields of oats, and groves of myrtle and pimento. Abrupt walls of rock rose from the water to the height of a thousand feet. The surf broke in a white line of foam along the shores of the bay, and its measured swell floated upon the air like the voice of a distant cataract. Fields of verdure covered the ravines; ruined and moss-covered walls were scattered over each eminence; and the straw huts of the inhabitants were almost imbosomed in trees, in the midst of the valley, and jets of smoke arose out of the groves and floated off gently in the calm air of the morning. In all the shore, but one spot, a single opening among the rocks, seemed accessible to man. The rest of the coast within view consisted of fearful cliffs overhanging the water, the ridges from which sloped upward as they receded inland, forming a variety of smaller valleys above, which were strangely diversified with woods and grass, and golden fields of wild oats. Close to the water's edge was the dark moss-covered rock, forever moist with the bright spray of the ocean, and above it, cleft in countless fissures by earthquakes in times past, the red burnt earth; and there were gorges through which silvery springs coursed, and cascades fringed with banks of shrubbery; and still higher the slopes were of a bright yellow, which, lying outspread in the glow of the early sunlight, almost dazzled the eye; and round about through the valleys and on the hill-sides, the groves of myrtle, pimento, and corkwood were draped in green, glittering with rain-drops after the storm, and the whole air was tinged with ambrosial tints, and filled with sweet odors; nothing in all the island and its shores, as the sun rose and cast off the mist, but seemed to "suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange." CHAPTER III. GOING ASHORE. [Illustration: CRUSOE'S CASTLE.] No longer able to control our enthusiasm, we sprang into the boat and pushed off for the landing. Captain Richardson, who was well acquainted with the ruins of the Chilian settlement, joined us in our intended excursion, and we were accompanied also by a few sporting passengers from the Brooklyn in another boat. The waters of the bay are of crystal clearness; we saw the bottom as we dashed over the swell, at a depth of several fathoms. It was alive with fish and various kinds of marine animals, of which there are great quantities about these shores. Can you conceive, ye landsmen who dwell in cities, and have never buffeted for weary months the gales of old ocean, the joy of once more touching the genial earth when it has become almost a dreamy fancy in the memories of the past! Then think, without a smile of disdain, what a thrill of delight ran through my blood as I pressed my feet for the first time upon the fresh sod of Juan Fernandez! Think of it, too, as the realization of hopes which I had never ceased to cherish from early boyhood; for this was the abiding place, which I now at last beheld, of a wondrous adventurer whose history had filled my soul years ago with indefinite longings for sea-life, shipwreck, and solitude! Yes, here was verily the land of Robinson Crusoe; here, in one of these secluded glens, stood his rustic castle; here he fed his goats and held converse with his faithful pets; here he found consolation in the devotion of a new friend, his true and honest man Friday; beneath the shade of these trees he unfolded the mysteries of Divine Providence to the simple savage, and proved to the world that there is no position in life which may not be endured by a patient spirit and an abiding confidence in the goodness and mercy of God. Pardon the fondness with which I linger upon these recollections, reader, for I was one who had fought for poor Robinson in my boyish days as the greatest hero that ever breathed the breath of life; who had always, even to man's estate, secretly cherished in my heart the belief that Alexander the Great, Julius Cæsar, and all the warriors of antiquity were commonplace persons compared with him; that Napoleon Bonaparte, the Duke of Wellington, Colonel Johnson, Tecumseh, and all the noted statesmen and warriors of modern times, were not to be mentioned in the same day with so extraordinary a man; I, who had always regarded him as the most truthful and the very sublimest of adventurers, was now the entranced beholder of his abiding place--walking, breathing, thinking, and seeing on the very spot! There was no fancy about it--not the least; it was a palpable reality! Talk of gold! Why, I tell you, my dear friends, all the gold of California was not worth the ecstatic bliss of that moment! [Illustration: CRUSOE AT HOME.] CHAPTER IV. CONDITION OF THE ISLAND IN 1849. We first went up to a bluff, about half a mile from the boat-landing, where we spent an hour in exploring the ruins of the fortifications built by the Chilians in 1767. There was nothing left but the foundation and a portion of the ramparts of the principal fort, partly imbedded in banks of clay, and neatly covered with moss and weeds. It was originally strongly built of large stones, which were cast down in every direction by the terrible earthquake of 1835; and now all that remained perfect was the front wall of the main rampart and the groundwork of the fort. Not far from these ruins we found the convict cells, which we explored to some extent. [Illustration: PLAN OF THE CONVICT CELLS.] These cells are dug into the brow of a hill, facing the harbor, and extend underground to the distance of several hundred feet, in the form of passages and vaults, resembling somewhat the Catacombs of Rome. During the penal settlement established here by the Chilian government, the convicts, numbering sometimes many hundreds, were confined in these gloomy dungeons, where they were subjected to the most barbarous treatment. The gates or doors by which the entrances were secured had all been torn down and destroyed, and the excavations were now occupied by wild goats, bats, toads, and different sorts of vermin. Rank fern hung upon the sides; overhead was dripping with a cold and deathlike sweat, and slimy drops coursed down the weeds, and the air was damp and chilly; thick darkness was within in the depths beyond--darkness that no wandering gleam from the light of day ever reached, for heaven never smiled upon those dreary abodes of sin and sorrow. A few of the inner dungeons, for the worst criminals, were dug still deeper underground, and rough stairways of earth led down into them, which were shut out from the upper vaults by strong doors. The size of these lower dungeons was not more than five or six feet in length by four or five in height, from which some idea may be formed of the sufferings endured by the poor wretches confined in them, shut out from the light of heaven, loaded with heavy irons, crushed down by dank and impenetrable walls of earth, starved and beaten by their cruel guards, with no living soul to pity them in their woe, no hope of release save in death. We saw, by the aid of a torch, deep holes scratched in one of the walls, bearing the impression of human fingers. It might have been that some unhappy murderer, goaded to madness by such cruel tortures of body and terrible anguish of mind as drive men to tear even their own flesh when buried before the vital spark is extinct, had grasped out the earth in his desperation, and left the marks in his death agonies upon the clay that entombed him, to tell what no human heart but his had suffered there, no human ear had heard, no human eye had witnessed. The deep, startling echo breaking upon the heavy air, as we sounded the walls, seemed yet to mingle with his curses, and its last sepulchral throb was like the dying moan of the maniac. [Illustration: CONVICT CELLS.] Some time before the great earthquake, which destroyed the fortifications and broke up the penal colony, a gang of convicts, amounting to three hundred, succeeded in liberating themselves from their cells. Unable to endure the cruelties inflicted upon them, they broke loose from their chains, and, rushing upon the guards, murdered the greater part of them, and finally seized the garrison. For several days they held complete possession of the island. A whale-ship, belonging to Nantucket, happening to come in at the time for wood and water, they seized the captain, and compelled him to take on board as many of them as the vessel could contain. About two hundred were put on board. They then threatened the captain and officers with instant death in case of any failure to land them on the coast of Peru, whither they determined to go in order to escape the vengeance of the Chilian government. Desirous of getting rid of them as soon as possible, the captain of the whaler ran over for the first land on the coast of Chili, where he put them ashore, leaving them ignorant of their position until they were unable to regain the vessel. They soon discovered that they were only thirty miles from Valparaiso; but, short as the distance was from the Chilian authorities, they evaded all attempts to capture them, and eventually joined the Peruvian army, which was then advancing upon Santiago. The remainder of the prisoners left upon the island escaped in different vessels, and were scattered over various parts of the world. Only a few of the entire number engaged in the massacre were ever captured; sentence of death was passed upon them, and they were shot in the public plaza of Santiago. [Illustration: CHILIAN HUTS.] Turning our steps toward the settlement of the present residents, we passed a few hours very agreeably in rambling about among their rustic abodes. The total number of inhabitants at this period (1849) is sixteen, consisting of William Pearce, an American, and four or five Chilian men, with their wives and children. No others have lived permanently upon the island for several years. There are in all some six or seven huts, pleasantly surrounded by shrubbery, and well supplied with water from a spring. These habitations are built of the straw of wild oats, interwoven through wattles or long sticks, and thatched with the same, and, whether from design or accident, are extremely picturesque. The roofs project so as to form an agreeable shade all round; the doorways are covered in by a sort of projecting porch, in the style of the French cottages along the valley of the Seine; small out-houses, erected upon posts, are scattered about each inclosure; and an air of repose and freedom from worldly care pervades the whole place, though the construction of the houses and mode of living are evidently of the most primitive kind. Seen through the green shrubberies that abound in every direction, the bright yellow of the cottages, and the smoke curling up in the still air, have a very cheerful effect; and the prattling voices of the children, mingled with the lively bleating of the kids, and the various pleasant sounds of domestic life, might well lead one to think that the seclusion of these islanders from the busy world is not without its charms. Small patches of ground, fenced with rude stone walls and brushwood, are attached to each of these primitive abodes; and rustic gateways, overrun with wild and luxuriant vines, open in front. Very little attention, however, appears to be bestowed upon the cultivation of the soil; but it looks rich and productive, and might be made to yield abundant crops by a trifling expenditure of labor. The Chilians have never been distinguished for industry; nor is there any evidence here that they depart from their usual philosophy in taking the world easy. Even the American seemed to have caught the prevailing lethargy, and to be content with as little as possible. Vegetables of various kinds grow abundantly wherever the seeds are thrown, among which I noticed excellent radishes, turnips, beets, cabbages, and onions. Potatoes of a very good quality, though not large, are grown in small quantities; and, regarding the natural productiveness of the earth, there seemed to be no reason why they should not be cultivated in sufficient quantities to supply the demands of vessels touching for supplies, and thereby made a profitable source of revenue to the settlers. The grass and wild oats grow in wonderful luxuriance in all the open spaces, and require little attention; and such is the genial character of the climate, that the cattle, of which there seems to be no lack, find ample food to keep them in good condition both in winter and summer. Fig-trees, bearing excellent figs, and vines of various sorts, flourish luxuriantly on the hill-sides. Of fruits there is quite an abundance in the early part of autumn. The peaches were just out of season when we arrived, but we obtained a few which had been peeled and dried in the sun, and we found them large and of excellent flavor. Many of the valleys abound in natural orchards, which have sprung from the seeds planted there by the early
{'title': "Crusoe's Island: A Ramble in the Footsteps of Alexander Selkirk by J. Ross Browne", 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}