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Chapter XVI
(PLATE 76. LIMA AND SAN LORENZO.)
Coast-road to Coquimbo.
Great loads carried by the miners.
Coquimbo.
Earthquake.
Step-formed terraces.
Absence of recent deposits.
Contemporaneousness of the Tertiary formations.
Excursion up the valley.
Road to Guasco.
Deserts.
Valley of Copiapó.
Rain and Earthquakes.
Hydrophobia.
The Despoblado.
Indian ruins.
Probable change of climate.
River-bed arched by an earthquake.
Cold gales of wind.
Noises from a hill.
Iquique.
Salt alluvium.
Nitrate of soda.
Lima.
Unhealthy country.
Ruins of Callao, overthrown by an earthquake.
Recent subsidence.
Elevated shells on San Lorenzo, their decomposition.
Plain with embedded shells and fragments of pottery.
Antiquity of the Indian Race.
NORTHERN CHILE AND PERU.
APRIL 27, 1835.
I set out on a journey to Coquimbo, and thence through Guasco to
Copiapó, where Captain Fitz Roy kindly offered to pick me up in the
"Beagle." The distance in a straight line along the shore northward
is only 420 miles; but my mode of travelling made it a very long
journey. I bought four horses and two mules, the latter carrying
the luggage on alternate days. The six animals together only cost
the value of twenty-five pounds sterling, and at Copiapó I sold
them again for twenty-three. We travelled in the same independent
manner as before, cooking our own meals, and sleeping in the open
air. As we rode towards the Viño del Mar, I took a farewell view of
Valparaiso, and admired its picturesque appearance. For geological
purposes I made a detour from the high road to the foot of the Bell
of Quillota. We passed through an alluvial district rich in gold,
to the neighbourhood of Limache, where we slept. Washing for gold
supports the inhabitants of numerous hovels, scattered along the
sides of each little rivulet; but, like all those whose gains are
uncertain, they are unthrifty in their habits, and consequently
poor.
APRIL 28, 1835.
In the afternoon we arrived at a cottage at the foot of the Bell
mountain. The inhabitants were freeholders, which is not very usual
in Chile. They supported themselves on the produce of a garden and
a little field, but were very poor. Capital is here so deficient
that the people are obliged to sell their green corn while standing
in the field, in order to buy necessaries for the ensuing year.
Wheat in consequence was dearer in the very district of its
production than at Valparaiso, where the contractors live. The next
day we joined the main road to Coquimbo. At night there was a very
light shower of rain: this was the first drop that had fallen since
the heavy rain of September 11th and 12th, which detained me a
prisoner at the Baths of Cauquenes. The interval was seven and a
half months; but the rain this year in Chile was rather later than
usual. The distant Andes were now covered by a thick mass of snow,
and were a glorious sight.
MAY 2, 1835.
The road continued to follow the coast at no great distance from
the sea. The few trees and bushes which are common in central Chile
decreased rapidly in numbers, and were replaced by a tall plant,
something like a yucca in appearance. The surface of the country,
on a small scale, was singularly broken and irregular; abrupt
little peaks of rock rising out of small plains or basins. The
indented coast and the bottom of the neighbouring sea, studded with
breakers, would, if converted into dry land, present similar forms;
and such a conversion without doubt has taken place in the part
over which we rode.
MAY 3, 1835.
Quilimari to Conchalee. The country became more and more barren. In
the valleys there was scarcely sufficient water for any irrigation;
and the intermediate land was quite bare, not supporting even
goats. In the spring, after the winter showers, a thin pasture
rapidly springs up, and cattle are then driven down from the
Cordillera to graze for a short time. It is curious to observe how
the seeds of the grass and other plants seem to accommodate
themselves, as if by an acquired habit, to the quantity of rain
which falls upon different parts of this coast. One shower far
northward at Copiapó produces as great an effect on the vegetation,
as two at Guasco, and three or four in this district. At Valparaiso
a winter so dry as greatly to injure the pasture, would at Guasco
produce the most unusual abundance. Proceeding northward, the
quantity of rain does not appear to decrease in strict proportion
to the latitude. At Conchalee, which is only 67 miles north of
Valparaiso, rain is not expected till the end of May; whereas at
Valparaiso some generally falls early in April: the annual quantity
is likewise small in proportion to the lateness of the season at
which it commences.
MAY 4, 1835.
Finding the coast-road devoid of interest of any kind, we turned
inland towards the mining district and valley of Illapel. This
valley, like every other in Chile, is level, broad, and very
fertile: it is bordered on each side, either by cliffs of
stratified shingle, or by bare rocky mountains. Above the straight
line of the uppermost irrigating ditch, all is brown as on a
high-road; while all below is of as bright a green as verdigris,
from the beds of alfarfa, a kind of clover. We proceeded to Los
Hornos, another mining district, where the principal hill was
drilled with holes, like a great ants'-nest. The Chilian miners are
a peculiar race of men in their habits. Living for weeks together
in the most desolate spots, when they descend to the villages on
feast-days there is no excess of extravagance into which they do
not run. They sometimes gain a considerable sum, and then, like
sailors with prize-money, they try how soon they can contrive to
squander it. They drink excessively, buy quantities of clothes, and
in a few days return penniless to their miserable abodes, there to
work harder than beasts of burden. This thoughtlessness, as with
sailors, is evidently the result of a similar manner of life. Their
daily food is found them, and they acquire no habits of
carefulness; moreover, temptation and the means of yielding to it
are placed in their power at the same time. On the other hand, in
Cornwall, and some other parts of England, where the system of
selling part of the vein is followed, the miners, from being
obliged to act and think for themselves, are a singularly
intelligent and well-conducted set of men.
The dress of the Chilian miner is peculiar and rather picturesque.
He wears a very long shirt of some dark-coloured baize, with a
leathern apron; the whole being fastened round his waist by a
bright-coloured sash. His trousers are very broad, and his small
cap of scarlet cloth is made to fit the head closely. We met a
party of these miners in full costume, carrying the body of one of
their companions to be buried. They marched at a very quick trot,
four men supporting the corpse. One set having run as hard as they
could for about two hundred yards, were relieved by four others,
who had previously dashed on ahead on horseback. Thus they
proceeded, encouraging each other by wild cries: altogether the
scene formed a most strange funeral.
We continued travelling northward in a zigzag line; sometimes
stopping a day to geologise. The country was so thinly inhabited,
and the track so obscure, that we often had difficulty in finding
our way. On the 12th I stayed at some mines. The ore in this case
was not considered particularly good, but from being abundant it
was supposed the mine would sell for about thirty or forty thousand
dollars (that is, 6000 or 8000 pounds sterling); yet it had been
bought by one of the English Associations for an ounce of gold
(three pounds eight shillings). The ore is yellow pyrites, which,
as I have already remarked, before the arrival of the English was
not supposed to contain a particle of copper. On a scale of profits
nearly as great as in the above instance, piles of cinders,
abounding with minute globules of metallic copper, were purchased;
yet with these advantages, the mining associations, as is well
known, contrived to lose immense sums of money. The folly of the
greater number of the commissioners and shareholders amounted to
infatuation;--a thousand pounds per annum given in some cases to
entertain the Chilian authorities; libraries of well-bound
geological books; miners brought out for particular metals, as tin,
which are not found in Chile; contracts to supply the miners with
milk, in parts where there are no cows; machinery, where it could
not possibly be used; and a hundred similar arrangements, bore
witness to our absurdity, and to this day afford amusement to the
natives. Yet there can be no doubt, that the same capital well
employed in these mines would have yielded an immense return: a
confidential man of business, a practical miner and assayer, would
have been all that was required.
Captain Head has described the wonderful load which the "Apires,"
truly beasts of burden, carry up from the deepest mines. I confess
I thought the account exaggerated: so that I was glad to take an
opportunity of weighing one of the loads, which I picked out by
hazard. It required considerable exertion on my part, when standing
directly over it, to lift it from the ground. The load was
considered under weight when found to be 197 pounds. The apire had
carried this up eighty perpendicular yards,--part of the way by a
steep passage, but the greater part up notched poles, placed in a
zigzag line up the shaft. According to the general regulation, the
apire is not allowed to halt for breath, except the mine is six
hundred feet deep. The average load is considered as rather more
than 200 pounds, and I have been assured that one of 300 pounds
(twenty-two stone and a half) by way of a trial has been brought up
from the deepest mine! At this time the apires were bringing up the
usual load twelve times in the day; that is 2400 pounds from eighty
yards deep; and they were employed in the intervals in breaking and
picking ore.
These men, excepting from accidents, are healthy, and appear
cheerful. Their bodies are not very muscular. They rarely eat meat
once a week, and never oftener, and then only the hard dry charqui.
Although with a knowledge that the labour was voluntary, it was
nevertheless quite revolting to see the state in which they reached
the mouth of the mine; their bodies bent forward, leaning with
their arms on the steps, their legs bowed, their muscles quivering,
the perspiration streaming from their faces over their breasts,
their nostrils distended, the corners of their mouth forcibly drawn
back, and the expulsion of their breath most laborious. Each time
they draw their breath they utter an articulate cry of "ay-ay,"
which ends in a sound rising from deep in the chest, but shrill
like the note of a fife. After staggering to the pile of ore, they
emptied the "carpacho;" in two or three seconds recovering their
breath, they wiped the sweat from their brows, and apparently quite
fresh descended the mine again at a quick pace. This appears to me
a wonderful instance of the amount of labour which habit, for it
can be nothing else, will enable a man to endure.
In the evening, talking with the mayor-domo of these mines about
the number of foreigners now scattered over the whole country, he
told me that, though quite a young man, he remembers when he was a
boy at school at Coquimbo, a holiday being given to see the captain
of an English ship, who was brought to the city to speak to the
governor. He believes that nothing would have induced any boy in
the school, himself included, to have gone close to the Englishman;
so deeply had they been impressed with an idea of the heresy,
contamination, and evil to be derived from contact with such a
person. To this day they relate the atrocious actions of the
bucaniers; and especially of one man, who took away the figure of
the Virgin Mary, and returned the year after for that of St.
Joseph, saying it was a pity the lady should not have a husband. I
heard also of an old lady who, at a dinner at Coquimbo, remarked
how wonderfully strange it was that she should have lived to dine
in the same room with an Englishman; for she remembered as a girl,
that twice, at the mere cry of "Los Ingleses," every soul, carrying
what valuables they could, had taken to the mountains.
MAY 14, 1835.
We reached Coquimbo, where we stayed a few days. The town is
remarkable for nothing but its extreme quietness. It is said to
contain from 6000 to 8000 inhabitants. On the morning of the 17th
it rained lightly, the first time this year, for about five hours.
The farmers, who plant corn near the sea-coast where the atmosphere
is more humid, taking advantage of this shower, would break up the
ground; after a second they would put the seed in; and if a third
shower should fall, they would reap a good harvest in the spring.
It was interesting to watch the effect of this trifling amount of
moisture. Twelve hours afterwards the ground appeared as dry as
ever; yet after an interval of ten days all the hills were faintly
tinged with green patches; the grass being sparingly scattered in
hair-like fibres a full inch in length. Before this shower every
part of the surface was bare as on a high-road.
(PLATE 77. COQUIMBO, CHILE.)
In the evening, Captain Fitz Roy and myself were dining with Mr.
Edwards, an English resident well known for his hospitality by all
who have visited Coquimbo, when a sharp earthquake happened. I
heard the forecoming rumble, but from the screams of the ladies,
the running of the servants, and the rush of several of the
gentlemen to the doorway, I could not distinguish the motion. Some
of the women afterwards were crying with terror, and one gentleman
said he should not be able to sleep all night, or if he did, it
would only be to dream of falling houses. The father of this person
had lately lost all his property at Talcahuano, and he himself had
only just escaped a falling roof at Valparaiso in 1822. He
mentioned a curious coincidence which then happened: he was playing
at cards, when a German, one of the party, got up, and said he
would never sit in a room in these countries with the door shut,
as, owing to his having done so, he had nearly lost his life at
Copiapó. Accordingly he opened the door; and no sooner had he done
this, than he cried out, "Here it comes again!" and the famous
shock commenced. The whole party escaped. The danger in an
earthquake is not from the time lost in opening the door, but from
the chance of its becoming jammed by the movement of the walls.
It is impossible to be much surprised at the fear which natives and
old residents, though some of them known to be men of great command
of mind, so generally experience during earthquakes. I think,
however, this excess of panic may be partly attributed to a want of
habit in governing their fear, as it is not a feeling they are
ashamed of. Indeed, the natives do not like to see a person
indifferent. I heard of two Englishmen who, sleeping in the open
air during a smart shock, knowing that there was no danger, did not
rise. The natives cried out indignantly, "Look at those heretics,
they do not even get out of their beds!"
I spent some days in examining the step-formed terraces of shingle,
first noticed by Captain B. Hall, and believed by Mr. Lyell to have
been formed by the sea during the gradual rising of the land. This
certainly is the true explanation, for I found numerous shells of
existing species on these terraces. Five narrow, gently sloping,
fringe-like terraces rise one behind the other, and where best
developed are formed of shingle: they front the bay, and sweep up
both sides of the valley. At Guasco, north of Coquimbo, the
phenomenon is displayed on a much grander scale, so as to strike
with surprise even some of the inhabitants. The terraces are there
much broader, and may be called plains, in some parts there are six
of them, but generally only five; they run up the valley for
thirty-seven miles from the coast. These step-formed terraces or
fringes closely resemble those in the valley of S. Cruz, and,
except in being on a smaller scale, those great ones along the
whole coast-line of Patagonia. They have undoubtedly been formed by
the denuding power of the sea, during long periods of rest in the
gradual elevation of the continent.
Shells of many existing species not only lie on the surface of the
terraces at Coquimbo (to a height of 250 feet), but are embedded in
a friable calcareous rock, which in some places is as much as
between twenty and thirty feet in thickness, but is of little
extent. These modern beds rest on an ancient tertiary formation
containing shells, apparently all extinct. Although I examined so
many hundred miles of coast on the Pacific, as well as Atlantic
side of the continent, I found no regular strata containing
sea-shells of recent species, excepting at this place, and at a few
points northward on the road to Guasco. This fact appears to me
highly remarkable; for the explanation generally given by
geologists, of the absence in any district of stratified
fossiliferous deposits of a given period, namely, that the surface
then existed as dry land, is not here applicable; for we know from
the shells strewed on the surface and embedded in loose sand or
mould, that the land for thousands of miles along both coasts has
lately been submerged. The explanation, no doubt, must be sought in
the fact, that the whole southern part of the continent has been
for a long time slowly rising; and therefore that all matter
deposited along shore in shallow water must have been soon brought
up and slowly exposed to the wearing action of the sea-beach; and
it is only in comparatively shallow water that the greater number
of marine organic beings can flourish, and in such water it is
obviously impossible that strata of any great thickness can
accumulate. To show the vast power of the wearing action of
sea-beaches, we need only appeal to the great cliffs along the
present coast of Patagonia, and to the escarpments or ancient
sea-cliffs at different levels, one above another, on that same
line of coast.
The old underlying tertiary formation at Coquimbo appears to be of
about the same age with several deposits on the coast of Chile (of
which that of Navedad is the principal one), and with the great
formation of Patagonia. Both at Navedad and in Patagonia there is
evidence, that since the shells (a list of which has been seen by
Professor E. Forbes) there intombed were living, there has been a
subsidence of several hundred feet, as well as an ensuing
elevation. It may naturally be asked how it comes that although no
extensive fossiliferous deposits of the recent period, nor of any
period intermediate between it and the ancient tertiary epoch, have
been preserved on either side of the continent, yet that at this
ancient tertiary epoch, sedimentary matter containing fossil
remains should have been deposited and preserved at different
points in north and south lines, over a space of 1100 miles on the
shores of the Pacific, and of at least 1350 miles on the shores of
the Atlantic, and in an east and west line of 700 miles across the
widest part of the continent? I believe the explanation is not
difficult, and that it is perhaps applicable to nearly analogous
facts observed in other quarters of the world. Considering the
enormous power of denudation which the sea possesses, as shown by
numberless facts, it is not probable that a sedimentary deposit,
when being upraised, could pass through the ordeal of the beach, so
as to be preserved in sufficient masses to last to a distant
period, without it were originally of wide extent and of
considerable thickness: now it is impossible on a moderately
shallow bottom, which alone is favourable to most living creatures,
that a thick and widely extended covering of sediment could be
spread out, without the bottom sank down to receive the successive
layers. This seems to have actually taken place at about the same
period in southern Patagonia and Chile, though these places are a
thousand miles apart. Hence, if prolonged movements of
approximately contemporaneous subsidence are generally widely
extensive, as I am strongly inclined to believe from my examination
of the Coral Reefs of the great oceans--or if, confining our view
to South America, the subsiding movements have been coextensive
with those of elevation, by which, within the same period of
existing shells, the shores of Peru, Chile, Tierra del Fuego,
Patagonia, and La Plata have been upraised--then we can see that at
the same time, at far distant points, circumstances would have been
favourable to the formation of fossiliferous deposits, of wide
extent and of considerable thickness; and such deposits,
consequently, would have a good chance of resisting the wear and
tear of successive beach-lines, and of lasting to a future epoch.
MAY 21, 1835.
I set out in company with Don José Edwards to the silver-mine of
Arqueros, and thence up the valley of Coquimbo. Passing through a
mountainous country, we reached by nightfall the mines belonging to
Mr. Edwards. I enjoyed my night's rest here from a reason which
will not be fully appreciated in England, namely, the absence of
fleas! The rooms in Coquimbo swarm with them; but they will not
live here at the height of only three or four thousand feet: it can
scarcely be the trifling diminution of temperature, but some other
cause which destroys these troublesome insects at this place. The
mines are now in a bad state, though they formerly yielded about
2000 pounds in weight of silver a year. It has been said that "a
person with a copper-mine will gain; with silver he may gain; but
with gold he is sure to lose." This is not true: all the large
Chilian fortunes have been made by mines of the more precious
metals. A short time since an English physician returned to England
from Copiapó, taking with him the profits of one share in a
silver-mine, which amounted to about 24,000 pounds sterling. No
doubt a copper-mine with care is a sure game, whereas the other is
gambling, or rather taking a ticket in a lottery. The owners lose
great quantities of rich ores; for no precautions can prevent
robberies. I heard of a gentleman laying a bet with another, that
one of his men should rob him before his face. The ore when brought
out of the mine is broken into pieces, and the useless stone thrown
on one side. A couple of the miners who were thus employed,
pitched, as if by accident, two fragments away at the same moment,
and then cried out for a joke "Let us see which rolls furthest."
The owner, who was standing by, bet a cigar with his friend on the
race. The miner by this means watched the very point amongst the
rubbish where the stone lay. In the evening he picked it up and
carried it to his master, showing him a rich mass of silver-ore,
and saying, "This was the stone on which you won a cigar by its
rolling so far."
MAY 23, 1835.
We descended into the fertile valley of Coquimbo, and followed it
till we reached an Hacienda belonging to a relation of Don José,
where we stayed the next day. I then rode one day's journey
farther, to see what were declared to be some petrified shells and
beans, which latter turned out to be small quartz pebbles. We
passed through several small villages; and the valley was
beautifully cultivated, and the whole scenery very grand. We were
here near the main Cordillera, and the surrounding hills were
lofty. In all parts of Northern Chile fruit trees produce much more
abundantly at a considerable height near the Andes than in the
lower country. The figs and grapes of this district are famous for
their excellence, and are cultivated to a great extent. This valley
is, perhaps, the most productive one north of Quillota. I believe
it contains, including Coquimbo, 25,000 inhabitants. The next day I
returned to the Hacienda, and thence, together with Don José, to
Coquimbo.
JUNE 2, 1835.
We set out for the valley of Guasco, following the coast-road,
which was considered rather less desert than the other. Our first
day's ride was to a solitary house, called Yerba Buena, where there
was pasture for our horses. The shower mentioned as having fallen a
fortnight ago, only reached about half-way to Guasco; we had,
therefore, in the first part of our journey a most faint tinge of
green, which soon faded quite away. Even where brightest, it was
scarcely sufficient to remind one of the fresh turf and budding
flowers of the spring of other countries. While travelling through
these deserts one feels like a prisoner shut up in a gloomy court,
who longs to see something green and to smell a moist atmosphere.
JUNE 3, 1835.
Yerba Buena to Carizal. During the first part of the day we crossed
a mountainous rocky desert, and afterwards a long deep sandy plain,
strewed with broken sea-shells. There was very little water, and
that little saline: the whole country, from the coast to the
Cordillera, is an uninhabited desert. I saw traces only of one
living animal in abundance, namely, the shells of a Bulimus, which
were collected together in extraordinary numbers on the driest
spots. In the spring one humble little plant sends out a few
leaves, and on these the snails feed. As they are seen only very
early in the morning, when the ground is slightly damp with dew,
the Guasos believe that they are bred from it. I have observed in
other places that extremely dry and sterile districts, where the
soil is calcareous, are extraordinarily favourable to land-shells.
At Carizal there were a few cottages, some brackish water, and a
trace of cultivation: but it was with difficulty that we purchased
a little corn and straw for our horses.
JUNE 4, 1835.
Carizal to Sauce. We continued to ride over desert plains, tenanted
by large herds of guanaco. We crossed also the valley of Chañeral;
which, although the most fertile one between Guasco and Coquimbo,
is very narrow, and produces so little pasture that we could not
purchase any for our horses. At Sauce we found a very civil old
gentleman, superintending a copper-smelting furnace. As an especial
favour, he allowed me to purchase at a high price an armful of
dirty straw, which was all the poor horses had for supper after
their long day's journey. Few smelting-furnaces are now at work in
any part of Chile; it is found more profitable, on account of the
extreme scarcity of firewood, and from the Chilian method of
reduction being so unskilful, to ship the ore for Swansea. The next
day we crossed some mountains to Freyrina, in the valley of Guasco.
During each day's ride farther northward, the vegetation became
more and more scanty; even the great chandelier-like cactus was
here replaced by a different and much smaller species. During the
winter months, both in Northern Chile and in Peru, a uniform bank
of clouds hangs, at no great height, over the Pacific. From the
mountains we had a very striking view of this white and brilliant
aerial-field, which sent arms up the valleys, leaving islands and
promontories in the same manner as the sea does in the Chonos
archipelago and in Tierra del Fuego.
We stayed two days at Freyrina. In the valley of Guasco there are
four small towns. At the mouth there is the port, a spot entirely
desert, and without any water in the immediate neighbourhood. Five
leagues higher up stands Freyrina, a long straggling village, with
decent whitewashed houses. Again, ten leagues further up Ballenar
is situated, and above this Guasco Alto, a horticultural village,
famous for its dried fruit. On a clear day the view up the valley
is very fine; the straight opening terminates in the far-distant
snowy Cordillera; on each side an infinity of crossing lines are
blended together in a beautiful haze. The foreground is singular
from the number of parallel and step-formed terraces; and the
included strip of green valley, with its willow-bushes, is
contrasted on both hands with the naked hills. That the surrounding
country was most barren will be readily believed, when it is known
that a shower of rain had not fallen during the last thirteen
months. The inhabitants heard with the greatest envy of the rain at
Coquimbo; from the appearance of the sky they had hopes of equally
good fortune, which, a fortnight afterwards, were realised. I was
at Copiapó at the time; and there the people, with equal envy,
talked of the abundant rain at Guasco. After two or three very dry
years, perhaps with not more than one shower during the whole time,
a rainy year generally follows; and this does more harm than even
the drought. The rivers swell, and cover with gravel and sand the
narrow strips of ground which alone are fit for cultivation. The
floods also injure the irrigating ditches. Great devastation had
thus been caused three years ago.
JUNE 8, 1835.
We rode on to Ballenar, which takes its name from Ballenagh in
Ireland, the birthplace of the family of O'Higgins, who, under the
Spanish government, were presidents and generals in Chile. As the
rocky mountains on each hand were concealed by clouds, the
terrace-like plains gave to the valley an appearance like that of
Santa Cruz in Patagonia. After spending one day at Ballenar I set
out, on the 10th, for the upper part of the valley of Copiapó. We
rode all day over an uninteresting country. I am tired of repeating
the epithets barren and sterile. These words, however, as commonly
used, are comparative; I have always applied them to the plains of
Patagonia, which can boast of spiny bushes and some tufts of grass;
and this is absolute fertility, as compared with Northern Chile.
Here again, there are not many spaces of two hundred yards square,
where some little bush, cactus or lichen, may not be discovered by
careful examination; and in the soil seeds lie dormant ready to
spring up during the first rainy winter. In Peru real deserts occur
over wide tracts of country. In the evening we arrived at a valley
in which the bed of the streamlet was damp: following it up, we
came to tolerably good water. During the night the stream, from not
being evaporated and absorbed so quickly, flows a league lower down
than during the day. Sticks were plentiful for firewood, so that it
was a good place of bivouac for us; but for the poor animals there
was not a mouthful to eat.
JUNE 11, 1835.
We rode without stopping for twelve hours till we reached an old
smelting-furnace, where there was water and firewood; but our
horses again had nothing to eat, being shut up in an old courtyard.
The line of road was hilly, and the distant views interesting from
the varied colours of the bare mountains. It was almost a pity to
see the sun shining constantly over so useless a country; such
splendid weather ought to have brightened fields and pretty
gardens. The next day we reached the valley of Copiapó. I was
heartily glad of it; for the whole journey was a continued source
of anxiety; it was most disagreeable to hear, whilst eating our own
suppers, our horses gnawing the posts to which they were tied, and
to have no means of relieving their hunger. To all appearance,
however, the animals were quite fresh; and no one could have told
that they had eaten nothing for the last fifty-five hours.
I had a letter of introduction to Mr. Bingley, who received me very
kindly at the Hacienda of Potrero Seco. This estate is between
twenty and thirty miles long, but very narrow, being generally only
two fields wide, one on each side the river. In some parts the
estate is of no width, that is to say, the land cannot be
irrigated, and therefore is valueless, like the surrounding rocky
desert. The small quantity of cultivated land in the whole line of
valley does not so much depend on inequalities of level, and
consequent unfitness for irrigation, as on the small supply of
water. The river this year was remarkably full: here, high up the
valley, it reached to the horse's belly, and was about fifteen
yards wide, and rapid; lower down it becomes smaller and smaller,
and is generally quite lost, as happened during one period of
thirty years, so that not a drop entered the sea. The inhabitants
watch a storm over the Cordillera with great interest; as one good
fall of snow provides them with water for the ensuing year. This is
of infinitely more consequence than rain in the lower country.
Rain, as often as it falls, which is about once in every two or
three years, is a great advantage, because the cattle and mules can
for some time afterwards find a little pasture in the mountains.
But without snow on the Andes, desolation extends throughout the
valley. It is on record that three times nearly all the inhabitants
have been obliged to emigrate to the south. This year there was
plenty of water, and every man irrigated his ground as much as he
chose; but it has frequently been necessary to post soldiers at the
sluices, to see that each estate took only its proper allowance
during so many hours in the week. The valley is said to contain
12,000 souls, but its produce is sufficient only for three months
in the year; the rest of the supply being drawn from Valparaiso and
the south. Before the discovery of the famous silver-mines of
Chanuncillo, Copiapó was in a rapid state of decay; but now it is
in a very thriving condition; and the town, which was completely
overthrown by an earthquake, has been rebuilt.
The valley of Copiapó, forming a mere ribbon of green in a desert,
runs in a very southerly direction; so that it is of considerable
length to its source in the Cordillera. The valleys of Guasco and
Copiapó may both be considered as long narrow islands, separated
from the rest of Chile by deserts of rock instead of by salt water.
Northward of these, there is one other very miserable valley,
called Paposo, which contains about two hundred souls; and then
there extends the real desert of Atacama--a barrier far worse than
the most turbulent ocean. After staying a few days at Potrero Seco,
I proceeded up the valley to the house of Don Benito Cruz, to whom
I had a letter of introduction. I found him most hospitable; indeed
it is impossible to bear too strong testimony to the kindness with
which travellers are received in almost every part of South
America. The next day I hired some mules to take me by the ravine
of Jolquera into the central Cordillera. On the second night the
weather seemed to foretell a storm of snow or rain, and whilst
lying in our beds we felt a trifling shock of an earthquake.
The connexion between earthquakes and the weather has been often
disputed: it appears to me to be a point of great interest, which
is little understood. Humboldt has remarked in one part of the
"Personal Narrative," that it would be difficult for any person who
had long resided in New Andalusia, or in Lower Peru, to deny that
there exists some connection between these phenomena: in another
part, however, he seems to think the connexion fanciful. (16/1.
Volume 4 page 11 and volume 2 page 217. For the remarks on
Guayaquil see Silliman's "Journal" volume 24 page 384. For those on
Tacna by Mr. Hamilton see "Transactions of British Association"
1840. For those on Coseguina see Mr. Caldcleugh in "Philosophical
Transactions" 1835. In the former edition I collected several
references on the coincidences between sudden falls in the
barometer and earthquakes; and between earthquakes and meteors.) At
Guayaquil it is said that a heavy shower in the dry season is
invariably followed by an earthquake. In Northern Chile, from the
extreme infrequency of rain, or even of weather foreboding rain,
the probability of accidental coincidences becomes very small; yet
the inhabitants are here most firmly convinced of some connexion
between the state of the atmosphere and of the trembling of the
ground: I was much struck by this when mentioning to some people at
Copiapó that there had been a sharp shock at Coquimbo: they
immediately cried out, "How fortunate! there will be plenty of
pasture there this year." To their minds an earthquake foretold
rain as surely as rain foretold abundant pasture. Certainly it did
so happen that on the very day of the earthquake that shower of
rain fell which I have described as in ten days' time producing a
thin sprinkling of grass. At other times rain has followed
earthquakes at a period of the year when it is a far greater
prodigy than the earthquake itself: this happened after the shock
of November 1822, and again in 1829 at Valparaiso; also after that
of September 1833, at Tacna. A person must be somewhat habituated
to the climate of these countries to perceive the extreme
improbability of rain falling at such seasons, except as a
consequence of some law quite unconnected with the ordinary course
of the weather. In the cases of great volcanic eruptions, as that
of Coseguina, where torrents of rain fell at a time of the year
most unusual for it, and "almost unprecedented in Central America,"
it is not difficult to understand that the volumes of vapour and
clouds of ashes might have disturbed the atmospheric equilibrium.
Humboldt extends this view to the case of earthquakes unaccompanied
by eruptions; but I can hardly conceive it possible that the small
quantity of aeriform fluids which then escape from the fissured
ground can produce such remarkable effects. There appears much
probability in the view first proposed by Mr. P. Scrope, that when
the barometer is low, and when rain might naturally be expected to
fall, the diminished pressure of the atmosphere over a wide extent
of country might well determine the precise day on which the earth,
already stretched to the utmost by the subterranean forces, should
yield, crack, and consequently tremble. It is, however, doubtful
how far this idea will explain the circumstance of torrents of rain
falling in the dry season during several days, after an earthquake
unaccompanied by an eruption; such cases seem to bespeak some more
intimate connexion between the atmospheric and subterranean
regions.
Finding little of interest in this part of the ravine, we retraced
our steps to the house of Don Benito, where I stayed two days
collecting fossil shells and wood. Great prostrate silicified
trunks of trees, embedded in a conglomerate, were extraordinarily
numerous. I measured one which was fifteen feet in circumference:
how surprising it is that every atom of the woody matter in this
great cylinder should have been removed and replaced by silex so
perfectly that each vessel and pore is preserved! These trees
flourished at about the period of our lower chalk; they all
belonged to the fir-tribe. It was amusing to hear the inhabitants
discussing the nature of the fossil shells which I collected,
almost in the same terms as were used a century ago in
Europe,--namely, whether or not they had been thus "born by
nature." My geological examination of the country generally created
a good deal of surprise amongst the Chilenos: it was long before
they could be convinced that I was not hunting for mines. This was
sometimes troublesome: I found the most ready way of explaining my
employment was to ask them how it was that they themselves were not
curious concerning earthquakes and volcanos?--why some springs were
hot and others cold?--why there were mountains in Chile, and not a
hill in La Plata? These bare questions at once satisfied and
silenced the greater number; some, however (like a few in England
who are a century behindhand), thought that all such inquiries were
useless and impious; and that it was quite sufficient that God had
thus made the mountains.
An order had recently been issued that all stray dogs should be
killed, and we saw many lying dead on the road. A great number had
lately gone mad, and several men had been bitten and had died in
consequence. On several occasions hydrophobia has prevailed in this
valley. It is remarkable thus to find so strange and dreadful a
disease appearing time after time in the same isolated spot. It has
been remarked that certain villages in England are in like manner
much more subject to this visitation than others. Dr. Unanùe states
that hydrophobia was first known in South America in 1803: this
statement is corroborated by Azara and Ulloa having never heard of
it in their time. Dr. Unanùe says that it broke out in Central
America, and slowly travelled southward. It reached Arequipa in
1807; and it is said that some men there, who had not been bitten,
were affected, as were some negroes, who had eaten a bullock which
had died of hydrophobia. At Ica forty-two people thus miserably
perished. The disease came on between twelve and ninety days after
the bite; and in those cases where it did come on, death ensued
invariably within five days. After 1808 a long interval ensued
without any cases. On inquiry, I did not hear of hydrophobia in Van
Diemen's Land, or in Australia; and Burchell says that during the
five years he was at the Cape of Good Hope, he never heard of an
instance of it. Webster asserts that at the Azores hydrophobia has
never occurred; and the same assertion has been made with respect
to Mauritius and St. Helena. (16/2. "Observa. sobre el clima de
Lima" page 67.--Azara's "Travels" volume 1 page 381.--Ulloa's
"Voyage" volume 2 page 28.--Burchell's "Travels" volume 2 page
524.--Webster's "Description of the Azores" page 124.--"Voyage à
l'Isle de France par un Officier du Roi" tome 1 page
248.--"Description of St. Helena" page 123.) In so strange a
disease some information might possibly be gained by considering
the circumstances under which it originates in distant climates;
for it is improbable that a dog already bitten should have been
brought to these distant countries.
At night a stranger arrived at the house of Don Benito and asked
permission to sleep there. He said he had been wandering about the
mountains for seventeen days, having lost his way. He started from
Guasco, and being accustomed to travelling in the Cordillera, did
not expect any difficulty in following the track to Copiapó; but he
soon became involved in a labyrinth of mountains whence he could
not escape. Some of his mules had fallen over precipices and he had
been in great distress. His chief difficulty arose from not knowing
where to find water in the lower country, so that he was obliged to
keep bordering the central ranges.
We returned down the valley, and on the 22nd reached the town of
Copiapó. The lower part of the valley is broad, forming a fine
plain like that of Quillota. The town covers a considerable space
of ground, each house possessing a garden: but it is an
uncomfortable place, and the dwellings are poorly furnished. Every
one seems bent on the one object of making money, and then
migrating as quickly as possible. All the inhabitants are more or
less directly concerned with mines; and mines and ores are the sole
subjects of conversation. Necessaries of all sorts are extremely
dear; as the distance from the town to the port is eighteen
leagues, and the land carriage very expensive. A fowl costs five or
six shillings; meat is nearly as dear as in England; firewood, or
rather sticks, are brought on donkeys from a distance of two and
three days' journey within the Cordillera; and pasturage for
animals is a shilling a day: all this for South America is
wonderfully exorbitant.
JUNE 26, 1835.
I hired a guide and eight mules to take me into the Cordillera by a
different line from my last excursion. As the country was utterly
desert, we took a cargo and a half of barley mixed with chopped
straw. About two leagues above the town a broad valley called the
"Despoblado," or uninhabited, branches off from that one by which
we had arrived. Although a valley of the grandest dimensions, and
leading to a pass across the Cordillera, yet it is completely dry,
excepting perhaps for a few days during some very rainy winter. The
sides of the crumbling mountains were furrowed by scarcely any
ravines; and the bottom of the main valley, filled with shingle,
was smooth and nearly level. No considerable torrent could ever
have flowed down this bed of shingle; for if it had, a great
cliff-bounded channel, as in all the southern valleys, would
assuredly have been formed. I feel little doubt that this valley,
as well as those mentioned by travellers in Peru, were left in the
state we now see them by the waves of the sea, as the land slowly
rose. I observed in one place where the Despoblado was joined by a
ravine (which in almost any other chain would have been called a
grand valley), that its bed, though composed merely of sand and
gravel, was higher than that of its tributary. A mere rivulet of
water, in the course of an hour, would have cut a channel for
itself; but it was evident that ages had passed away, and no such
rivulet had drained this great tributary. It was curious to behold
the machinery, if such a term may be used, for the drainage, all,
with the last trifling exception, perfect, yet without any signs of
action. Every one must have remarked how mud-banks, left by the
retiring tide, imitate in miniature a country with hill and dale;
and here we have the original model in rock, formed as the
continent rose during the secular retirement of the ocean, instead
of during the ebbing and flowing of the tides. If a shower of rain
falls on the mud-bank, when left dry, it deepens the already-formed
shallow lines of excavation; and so it is with the rain of
successive centuries on the bank of rock and soil, which we call a
continent.
We rode on after it was dark, till we reached a side ravine with a
small well, called "Agua amarga." The water deserved its name, for
besides being saline it was most offensively putrid and bitter; so
that we could not force ourselves to drink either tea or maté. I
suppose the distance from the river of Copiapó to this spot was at
least twenty-five or thirty English miles; in the whole space there
was not a single drop of water, the country deserving the name of
desert in the strictest sense. Yet about half-way we passed some
old Indian ruins near Punta Gorda: I noticed also in front of some
of the valleys which branch off from the Despoblado, two piles of
stones placed a little way apart, and directed so as to point up
the mouths of these small valleys. My companions knew nothing about
them, and only answered my queries by their imperturbable "quien
sabe?"
I observed Indian ruins in several parts of the Cordillera: the
most perfect which I saw were the Ruinas de Tambillos in the
Uspallata Pass. Small square rooms were there huddled together in
separate groups: some of the doorways were yet standing; they were
formed by a cross slab of stone only about three feet high. Ulloa
has remarked on the lowness of the doors in the ancient Peruvian
dwellings. These houses, when perfect, must have been capable of
containing a considerable number of persons. Tradition says that
they were used as halting-places for the Incas, when they crossed
the mountains. Traces of Indian habitations have been discovered in
many other parts, where it does not appear probable that they were
used as mere resting-places, but yet where the land is as utterly
unfit for any kind of cultivation as it is near the Tambillos or at
the Incas Bridge, or in the Portillo Pass, at all which places I
saw ruins. In the ravine of Jajuel, near Aconcagua, where there is
no pass, I heard of remains of houses situated at a great height,
where it is extremely cold and sterile. At first I imagined that
these buildings had been places of refuge, built by the Indians on
the first arrival of the Spaniards; but I have since been inclined
to speculate on the probability of a small change of climate.
In this northern part of Chile, within the Cordillera, old Indian
houses are said to be especially numerous: by digging amongst the
ruins, bits of woollen articles, instruments of precious metals,
and heads of Indian corn, are not unfrequently discovered: an
arrow-head made of agate, and of precisely the same form with those
now used in Tierra del Fuego, was given me. I am aware that the
Peruvian Indians now frequently inhabit most lofty and bleak
situations; but at Copiapó I was assured by men who had spent their
lives in travelling through the Andes, that there were very many
(muchisimas) buildings at heights so great as almost to border on
the perpetual snow, and in parts where there exist no passes, and
where the land produces absolutely nothing, and what is still more
extraordinary, where there is no water. Nevertheless it is the
opinion of the people of the country (although they are much
puzzled by the circumstance), that, from the appearance of the
houses, the Indians must have used them as places of residence. In
this valley, at Punta Gorda, the remains consisted of seven or
eight square little rooms, which were of a similar form with those
at Tambillos, but built chiefly of mud, which the present
inhabitants cannot, either here or, according to Ulloa, in Peru,
imitate in durability. They were situated in the most conspicuous
and defenceless position, at the bottom of the flat broad valley.
There was no water nearer than three or four leagues, and that only
in very small quantity, and bad: the soil was absolutely sterile; I
looked in vain even for a lichen adhering to the rocks. At the
present day, with the advantage of beasts of burden, a mine, unless
it were very rich, could scarcely be worked here with profit. Yet
the Indians formerly chose it as a place of residence! If at the
present time two or three showers of rain were to fall annually,
instead of one, as now is the case, during as many years, a small
rill of water would probably be formed in this great valley; and
then, by irrigation (which was formerly so well understood by the
Indians), the soil would easily be rendered sufficiently productive
to support a few families.
I have convincing proofs that this part of the continent of South
America has been elevated near the coast at least from 400 to 500,
and in some parts from 1000 to 1300 feet, since the epoch of
existing shells; and farther inland the rise possibly may have been
greater. As the peculiarly arid character of the climate is
evidently a consequence of the height of the Cordillera, we may
feel almost sure that before the later elevations, the atmosphere
could not have been so completely drained of its moisture as it now
is; and as the rise has been gradual, so would have been the change
in climate. On this notion of a change of climate since the
buildings were inhabited, the ruins must be of extreme antiquity,
but I do not think their preservation under the Chilian climate any
great difficulty. We must also admit on this notion (and this
perhaps is a greater difficulty) that man has inhabited South
America for an immensely long period, inasmuch as any change of
climate effected by the elevation of the land must have been
extremely gradual. At Valparaiso, within the last 220 years, the
rise has been somewhat less than 19 feet: at Lima a sea-beach has
certainly been upheaved from 80 to 90 feet, within the Indio-human
period: but such small elevations could have had little power in
deflecting the moisture-bringing atmospheric currents. Dr. Lund,
however, found human skeletons in the caves of Brazil, the
appearance of which induced him to believe that the Indian race has
existed during a vast lapse of time in South America.
When at Lima, I conversed on these subjects with Mr. Gill, a civil
engineer, who had seen much of the interior country. (16/3. Temple,
in his travels through Upper Peru, or Bolivia, in going from Potosi
to Oruro, says "I saw many Indian villages or dwellings in ruins,
up even to the very tops of the mountains, attesting a former
population where now all is desolate." He makes similar remarks in
another place; but I cannot tell whether this desolation has been
caused by a want of population, or by an altered condition of the
land.) He told me that a conjecture of a change of climate had
sometimes crossed his mind; but that he thought that the greater
portion of land, now incapable of cultivation, but covered with
Indian ruins, had been reduced to this state by the water-conduits,
which the Indians formerly constructed on so wonderful a scale,
having been injured by neglect and by subterranean movements. I may
here mention that the Peruvians actually carried their irrigating
streams in tunnels through hills of solid rock. Mr. Gill told me he
had been employed professionally to examine one: he found the
passage low, narrow, crooked, and not of uniform breadth, but of
very considerable length. Is it not most wonderful that men should
have attempted such operations, without the use of iron or
gunpowder? Mr. Gill also mentioned to me a most interesting, and,
as far as I am aware, quite unparalleled case, of a subterranean
disturbance having changed the drainage of a country. Travelling
from Casma to Huaraz (not very far distant from Lima), he found a
plain covered with ruins and marks of ancient cultivation but now
quite barren. Near it was the dry course of a considerable river,
whence the water for irrigation had formerly been conducted. There
was nothing in the appearance of the watercourse to indicate that
the river had not flowed there a few years previously; in some
parts, beds of sand and gravel were spread out; in others, the
solid rock had been worn into a broad channel, which in one spot
was about 40 yards in breadth and 8 feet deep. It is self-evident
that a person following up the course of a stream will always
ascend at a greater or less inclination: Mr. Gill, therefore, was
much astonished, when walking up the bed of this ancient river, to
find himself suddenly going down hill. He imagined that the
downward slope had a fall of about 40 or 50 feet perpendicular. We
here have unequivocal evidence that a ridge had been uplifted right
across the old bed of a stream. From the moment the river-course
was thus arched, the water must necessarily have been thrown back,
and a new channel formed. From that moment, also, the neighbouring
plain must have lost its fertilising stream, and become a desert.
JUNE 27, 1835.
We set out early in the morning, and by mid-day reached the ravine
of Paypote, where there is a tiny rill of water, with a little
vegetation, and even a few algarroba trees, a kind of mimosa. From
having firewood, a smelting-furnace had formerly been built here:
we found a solitary man in charge of it, whose sole employment was
hunting guanacos. At night it froze sharply; but having plenty of
wood for our fire, we kept ourselves warm.
JUNE 28, 1835.
We continued gradually ascending, and the valley now changed into a
ravine. During the day we saw several guanacos, and the track of
the closely-allied species, the Vicuña: this latter animal is
pre-eminently alpine in its habits; it seldom descends much below
the limit of perpetual snow, and therefore haunts even a more lofty
and sterile situation than the guanaco. The only other animal which
we saw in any number was a small fox: I suppose this animal preys
on the mice and other small rodents which, as long as there is the
least vegetation, subsist in considerable numbers in very desert
places. In Patagonia, even on the borders of the salinas, where a
drop of fresh water can never be found, excepting dew, these little
animals swarm. Next to lizards, mice appear to be able to support
existence on the smallest and driest portions of the earth--even on
islets in the midst of great oceans.
The scene on all sides showed desolation, brightened and made
palpable by a clear, unclouded sky. For a time such scenery is
sublime, but this feeling cannot last, and then it becomes
uninteresting. We bivouacked at the foot of the "primera linea," or
the first line of the partition of the waters. The streams,
however, on the east side do not flow to the Atlantic, but into an
elevated district, in the middle of which there is a large salina,
or salt lake;--thus forming a little Caspian Sea at the height,
perhaps, of ten thousand feet. Where we slept, there were some
considerable patches of snow, but they do not remain throughout the
year. The winds in these lofty regions obey very regular laws;
every day a fresh breeze blows up the valley, and at night, an hour
or two after sunset, the air from the cold regions above descends
as through a funnel. This night it blew a gale of wind, and the
temperature must have been considerably below the freezing-point,
for water in a vessel soon became a block of ice. No clothes seemed
to oppose any obstacle to the air; I suffered very much from the
cold, so that I could not sleep, and in the morning rose with my
body quite dull and benumbed.
In the Cordillera farther southward people lose their lives from
snow-storms; here, it sometimes happens from another cause. My
guide, when a boy of fourteen years old, was passing the Cordillera
with a party in the month of May; and while in the central parts, a
furious gale of wind arose, so that the men could hardly cling on
their mules, and stones were flying along the ground. The day was
cloudless, and not a speck of snow fell, but the temperature was
low. It is probable that the thermometer would not have stood very
many degrees below the freezing-point, but the effect on their
bodies, ill protected by clothing, must have been in proportion to
the rapidity of the current of cold air. The gale lasted for more
than a day; the men began to lose their strength, and the mules
would not move onwards. My guide's brother tried to return, but he
perished, and his body was found two years afterwards, lying by the
side of his mule near the road, with the bridle still in his hand.
Two other men in the party lost their fingers and toes; and out of
two hundred mules and thirty cows, only fourteen mules escaped
alive. Many years ago the whole of a large party are supposed to
have perished from a similar cause, but their bodies to this day
have never been discovered. The union of a cloudless sky, low
temperature, and a furious gale of wind, must be, I should think,
in all parts of the world an unusual occurrence.
JUNE 29, 1835.
We gladly travelled down the valley to our former night's lodging,
and thence to near the Agua amarga. On July 1st we reached the
valley of Copiapó. The smell of the fresh clover was quite
delightful, after the scentless air of the dry sterile Despoblado.
Whilst staying in the town I heard an account from several of the
inhabitants, of a hill in the neighbourhood which they called "El
Bramador,"--the roarer or bellower. I did not at the time pay
sufficient attention to the account; but, as far as I understood,
the hill was covered by sand, and the noise was produced only when
people, by ascending it, put the sand in motion. The same
circumstances are described in detail on the authority of Seetzen
and Ehrenberg, as the cause of the sounds which have been heard by
many travellers on Mount Sinai near the Red Sea. (16/4. "Edinburgh
Philosophical Journal" January 1830 page 74 and April 1830 page
258. Also Daubeny on Volcanoes page 438 and "Bengal Journal" volume
7 page 324.) One person with whom I conversed had himself heard the
noise: he described it as very surprising; and he distinctly stated
that, although he could not understand how it was caused, yet it
was necessary to set the sand rolling down the acclivity. A horse
walking over dry and coarse sand causes a peculiar chirping noise
from the friction of the particles; a circumstance which I several
times noticed on the coast of Brazil.
Three days afterwards I heard of the "Beagle's" arrival at the
Port, distant eighteen leagues from the town. There is very little
land cultivated down the valley; its wide expanse supports a
wretched wiry grass, which even the donkeys can hardly eat. This
poorness of the vegetation is owing to the quantity of saline
matter with which the soil is impregnated. The Port consists of an
assemblage of miserable little hovels, situated at the foot of a
sterile plain. At present, as the river contains water enough to
reach the sea, the inhabitants enjoy the advantage of having fresh
water within a mile and a half. On the beach there were large piles
of merchandise, and the little place had an air of activity. In the
evening I gave my adios, with a hearty good-will, to my companion
Mariano Gonzales, with whom I had ridden so many leagues in Chile.
The next morning the "Beagle" sailed for Iquique.
JULY 12, 1835.
We anchored in the port of Iquique, in latitude 20 degrees 12', on
the coast of Peru. The town contains about a thousand inhabitants,
and stands on a little plain of sand at the foot of a great wall of
rock, 2000 feet in height, here forming the coast. The whole is
utterly desert. A light shower of rain falls only once in very many
years; and the ravines consequently are filled with detritus, and
the mountainsides covered by piles of fine white sand, even to a
height of a thousand feet. During this season of the year a heavy
bank of clouds, stretched over the ocean, seldom rises above the
wall of rocks on the coast. The aspect of the place was most
gloomy; the little port, with its few vessels, and small group of
wretched houses, seemed overwhelmed and out of all proportion with
the rest of the scene.
The inhabitants live like persons on boa
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