fresh means of judging of the distance, how the mountain rose in height.
Before reaching Port Famine, two men were seen running along the shore
and hailing the ship. A boat was sent for them. They turned out to be
two sailors who had run away from a sealing-vessel, and had joined the
Patagonians. These Indians had treated them with their usual
disinterested hospitality. They had parted company through accident,
and were then proceeding to Port Famine in hopes of finding some ship.
I dare say they were worthless vagabonds, but I never saw more
miserable-looking ones. They had been living for some days on
mussel-shells and berries, and their tattered clothes had been burnt by
sleeping so near their fires. They had been exposed night and day,
without any shelter, to the late incessant gales, with rain, sleet, and
snow, and yet they were in good health.
During our stay at Port Famine, the Fuegians twice came and plagued us.
As there were many instruments, clothes, and men on shore, it was
thought necessary to frighten them away. The first time a few great
guns were fired, when they were far distant. It was most ludicrous to
watch through a glass the Indians, as often as the shot struck the
water, take up stones, and, as a bold defiance, throw them towards the
ship, though about a mile and a half distant! A boat was sent with
orders to fire a few musket-shots wide of them. The Fuegians hid
themselves behind the trees, and for every discharge of the muskets
they fired their arrows; all, however, fell short of the boat, and the
officer as he pointed at them laughed. This made the Fuegians frantic
with passion, and they shook their mantles in vain rage. At last,
seeing the balls cut and strike the trees, they ran away, and we were
left in peace and quietness. During the former voyage the Fuegians
were here very troublesome, and to frighten them a rocket was fired at
night over their wigwams; it answered effectually, and one of the
officers told me that the clamour first raised, and the barking of the
dogs, was quite ludicrous in contrast with the profound silence which
in a minute or two afterwards prevailed. The next morning not a single
Fuegian was in the neighbourhood.
When the Beagle was here in the month of February, I started one
morning at four o'clock to ascend Mount Tarn, which is 2600 feet high,
and is the most elevated point in this immediate district. We went in
a boat to the foot of the mountain (but unluckily not to the best
220