dreary land seemed not the worst off in the world.
But the natives, Patagonian and Fuegian, on the other hand, were as
squalid as contact with unscrupulous traders could make them. A large
percentage of the business there was traffic in "fire-water." If there
was a law against selling the poisonous stuff to the natives, it was
not enforced. Fine specimens of the Patagonian race, looking smart in
the morning when they came into town, had repented before night of
ever having seen a white man, so beastly drunk were they, to say
nothing about the peltry of which they had been robbed.

The port at that time was free, but a customhouse was in course of
construction, and when it is finished, port and tariff dues are to be
collected. A soldier police guarded the place, and a sort of vigilante
force besides took down its guns now and then; but as a general thing,
to my mind, whenever an execution was made they killed the wrong man.
Just previous to my arrival the governor, himself of a jovial turn of
mind, had sent a party of young bloods to foray a Fuegian settlement
and wipe out what they could of it on account of the recent massacre
of a schooner's crew somewhere else. Altogether the place was quite
newsy and supported two papers--dailies, I think. The port captain, a
Chilean naval officer, advised me to ship hands to fight Indians in
the strait farther west, and spoke of my stopping until a gunboat
should be going through, which would give me a tow. After canvassing
the place, however, I found only one man willing to embark, and he on
condition that I should ship another "mon and a doog." But as no one
else was willing to come along, and as I drew the line at dogs, I said
no more about the matter, but simply loaded my guns. At this point in
my dilemma Captain Pedro Samblich, a good Austrian of large
experience, coming along, gave me a bag of carpet-tacks, worth more
than all the fighting men and dogs of Tierra del Fuego. I protested
that I had no use for carpet-tacks on board. Samblich smiled at my
want of experience, and maintained stoutly that I would have use for
them. "You must use them with discretion," he said; "that is to say,
don't step on them yourself." With this remote hint about the use of
the tacks I got on all right, and saw the way to maintain clear decks
at night without the care of watching.

[Illustration: The man who wouldn't ship without another "mon and a
doog."]

Samblich was greatly interested in m