The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expeditionRoutledge, Katherine
History
The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expedition
Routledge, Katherine
Easter Island; Oceania -- Description and travel; Voyages and travels
The human dwellings are a few tin shanties. In a walk on shore we were
able to see in a gully, a few remains of the walls of the old Spanish
settlement. As to the puma, fortunately from its point of view, the
railway service left a good deal to be desired. We arrived on Friday,
and there turned out to be no train till the following Tuesday, so it
lived to be shot another day—unless indeed it met a more ignominious
end, for the South American lion is so unworthy of its name that it is
sometimes killed by being ridden down and brained with a stirrup-iron.
We took three sheep on board, as mutton at twopence a pound appealed to
the housekeeping mind, and were able to secure some water, which is
brought down by rail; it was a relief to have our tanks well supplied,
as the ports further down the coast are defended by bars, and would have
been difficult of access in bad weather. Drake, on whose course we were
now entering, selected St. Julian, the next bay to the southward, for
his port of call before entering the Straits of Magellan; it was there
he had trouble with his crew, and was obliged to hang Doughty.
We sailed from Port Desire on Monday morning, but were not to say
good-bye to it so speedily. We soon encountered a strong head wind, with
the result that Wednesday evening found us fifteen miles backwards on a
return journey to Buenos Aires, and the whole of Thursday saw us still
within sight of it. We amused ourselves by discussing the voyage, which
had now lasted more than seven months. One of the company declared that
he had lost all sense of time and felt like a native or an animal:
things just went on from day to day; there was neither before nor after,
neither early nor late. It did not, he said, seem very long since we
left Falmouth, but on the other hand our stay at Pernambuco was
certainly in the remote past, and so with everything else. We had now,
in fact, done about three-quarters of the distance from Buenos Aires
towards the Straits of Magellan, and had 300 miles left before we
reached their entrance at Cape Virgins.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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