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NOTES OF A NATURALIST

IN SOUTH AMERICA




    NOTES OF A NATURALIST
    IN SOUTH AMERICA

    BY
    JOHN BALL, F.R.S., M.R.I.A., ETC.


    LONDON
    KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE
    1887




(_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._)




    TO
    L. M.,
    WHOSE SUGGESTIONS LED TO ITS TAKING SHAPE,
    I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK.




PREFACE.


A tour round the South American continent, which was completed in so
short a time as five months, may not appear to deserve any special
record; yet I am led to hope that this little book may serve to induce
others to visit a region so abounding in sources of enjoyment and
interest. There is no part of the world where, in the same short space
of time, a traveller can view so many varied and impressive aspects
of nature; while he whose attention is mainly given to the progress
and development of the social condition of mankind will find in the
condition of the numerous states of the continent, and the manners and
habits of the many different races that inhabit it, abundant material
to engage his attention and excite his interest.

Although, as the title implies, the aim of my journey was mainly
directed to the new aspects of nature, organic and inorganic, which
South America superabundantly presents to the stranger, I have not
thought it without interest to give in these pages the impressions as
to the social and political condition of the different regions which I
visited, suggested to an unprejudiced visitor by the daily incidents of
a traveller’s life.

Those who may be tempted to undertake a tour in South America will
find that by a judicious choice of route, according to the season
selected for travelling, they may visit all the accessible parts of
the continent with perfect ease, and with no more risk of injury to
health, or of bodily discomfort, than they incur in a summer excursion
in Europe. The chief precaution to be observed is to make the visit
to Brazil fall in the cool and dry season, extending from mid-May to
September. It may also be well to mention that, while the cost of
passage and expenses on board, for a journey of about 18,400 miles by
sea, somewhat exceeded £170, my expenses during about ten weeks on
land, without any attempt at economy, did not exceed £100.

The reader may regard as superfluous the rather frequent references
to the meteorology of the various parts of the continent which I was
able to visit. But, if he will consider the importance of the two main
elements--temperature and moisture--in regulating the development
of organic life in past epochs, and the influence which they now
exercise on the character of the human population, he will admit that a
student of nature could not fail to make them the objects of frequent
attention, the more especially as many erroneous impressions as to the
climate of various parts of South America are still current, even
among men of science.

I make no pretension to add anything of importance to our store of
positive knowledge respecting the region described in this volume; I
shall be content if it should be found that I have suggested trains of
thought that may lead others to valuable results. I venture, indeed, to
believe that the argument adduced in the sixth chapter, as to the great
extent and importance of the ancient mountains of Brazil, approaches
near to demonstration, and that the recognition of its validity will
be found to throw fresh light on the history of organic life in that
region of the globe.

In the Appendices to this volume two subjects of a somewhat technical
character, not likely to interest the general reader, are separately
discussed. With regard to both of them, my aim has been to show that
the opinions now current amongst men of science do not rest upon
adequate evidence, and that we need further knowledge of the phenomena,
discoverable by observation, before we can safely arrive at positive
conclusions.

In deference to the prejudices of English readers, which are
unfortunately shared by many scientific writers, the ordinary British
standards of measure and weight have been followed throughout the
text, as well as the antiquated custom of denoting temperature by the
scale of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. With regard to the metrical system
of measures and weights, I am fully aware of its imperfections, and
if the question were now raised for the first time I should advocate
the adoption of some considerable modifications. But seeing that no
other uniform system is in existence, and that the metrical system has
been adopted by nearly all civilized nations, I cannot but regret that
my countrymen should retain what is practically a barrier to the free
interchange of thought with the rest of the world. The defects of the
metrical system are mainly those of our decimal system of numeration,
which owes its existence to the fact that the human hand possesses five
fingers. If in some future stage of development our race should acquire
a sixth finger to each hand, it may then also acquire a more convenient
system of numeration, to which the scale of measures would naturally
be adapted. In the mean time the advantages of a uniform system far
outweigh its attendant defects.

The adherence to the Fahrenheit scale for the thermometer is even
less defensible. It belongs to a primitive epoch of science, when a
knowledge of the facts of physics was in a rudimentary stage, and its
survival at the present day is a matter of marvel to the student of
progress.

I should not conclude these prefatory words without expressing my
obligations to many scientific friends whom I have from time to time
consulted with advantage; and I must especially record my obligation to
Mr. Robert Scott, F.R.S., who has on many occasions been my guide to
the valuable materials available in the library of the Meteorological
Office.




CONTENTS.


    CHAPTER I.
                                                                    PAGE

    Voyage across the Atlantic--Barbadoes--Jamaica--Isthmus of
    Panama--Buenaventura, tropical forest--Guayaquil and the
    river Guayas--Payta--The rainless zone of Peru--Voyage to
    Callao                                                             1


    CHAPTER II.

    Arrival at Callao--Quarantine--The war between Chili and
    Peru--Aspect of Lima--General Lynch--Andean railway to
    Chicla--Valley of the Rimac--Puente Infernillo--Chicla--
    Mountain-sickness--Flora of the Temperate zone of the Andes--
    Excursion to the higher region--Climate of the Cordillera--
    Remarks on the Andean flora--Return to Lima--Visit to a
    sugar-plantation--Condition of Peru--Prospect of anarchy          56


    CHAPTER III.

    Voyage from Callao to Valparaiso--Arica--Tocopilla--Scenery of
    the moon--Caldera--Aspect of North Chili--British Pacific
    squadron--Coquimbo--Arrival at Valparaiso--Climate and
    vegetation of Central Chili--Railway journey to Santiago--
    Aspect of the city--Grand position of Santiago--Dr. Philippi--
    Excursion to Cerro St. Cristobal--Don B. Vicuña Mackenna--
    Remarkable trees--Excursion to the baths of Cauquenes--The
    first rains--Captive condors--Return to Santiago--Glorious
    sunset                                                           118


    CHAPTER IV.

    Baths of Apoquinto--<DW72>s of the Cordillera--Excursion to
    Santa Rosa de los Andes and the valley of Aconcagua--Return to
    Valparaiso--Voyage in the German steamer _Rhamses_--Visit to
    Lota--Parque of Lota--Coast of Southern Chili--Gulf of Peñas--
    Hale Cove--Messier’s Channel--Beautiful scenery--The English
    narrows--Eden harbour--Winter vegetation--Eyre Sound--Floating
    ice--Sarmiento Channel--Puerto Bueno--Smyth’s Channel--
    Entrance to the Straits of Magellan--Glorious morning--Borya
    Bay--Mount Sarmiento                                             188


    CHAPTER V.

    Arrival at Sandy Point--Difficulties as to lodging--Story of
    the mutiny--Patagonian ladies--Agreeable society in the
    Straits of Magellan--Winter aspect of the flora--Patagonians
    and Fuegians--Habits of the South American ostrich--Waiting
    for the steamer--Departure--Climate of the Straits and of the
    southern hemisphere--Voyage to Monte Video--Saturnalia of
    children--City of Monte Video--Signor Bartolomeo Bossi; his
    explorations--Neighbourhood of the city--Uruguayan politics--
    River steamer--Excursion to Paisandu--Voyage on the Uruguay--
    Use of the telephone--Excursion to the camp--Aspect of the
    flora--Arrival at Buenos Ayres--Industrial Exhibition--
    Argentine forests--The cathedral of Buenos Ayres--Excursion
    to La Boca--Argentaria as a field for emigration                 248


    CHAPTER VI.

    Voyage from Buenos Ayres to Santos--Tropical vegetation in
    Brazil--Visit to San Paulo--Journey from San Paulo to Rio
    Janeiro--Valley of the Parahyba do Sul--Ancient mountains of
    Brazil--Rio Janeiro--Visit to Petropolis--Falls of Itamariti--
    Struggle for existence in a tropical forest--The hermit of
    Petropolis--Morning view over the Bay of Rio--A gorgeous
    flowering shrub--Visit to Tijuca--Yellow fever in Brazil--A
    giant of the forest--Voyage to Bahia and Pernambuco--
    Equatorial rains--Fernando Noronha--St. Vincent in the Cape
    Verde Islands--Trade winds of the North Atlantic--Lisbon--
    Return to England                                                303


    APPENDIX A.--On the fall of temperature in ascending to
    heights above the sea-level                                      369

    APPENDIX B.--Remarks on Mr. Croll’s theory of secular changes
    of the earth’s climate                                           393




NOTES OF A NATURALIST

IN SOUTH AMERICA.




CHAPTER I.

  Voyage across the Atlantic--Barbadoes--Jamaica--Isthmus of
      Panama--Buenaventura, tropical forest--Guayaquil and the river
      Guayas--Payta--The rainless zone of Peru--Voyage to Callao.


A voyage across the Atlantic in a large ocean steamer is now as
familiar and as little troublesome as the journey from London to Paris.
It rarely offers any incident worth recounting, and yet, especially
as a first experience, it supplies an abundant variety of sources of
curiosity and interest. It is easy for a man to sit down at home and
within the walls of his own study to find the requisite materials for
investigating the still unsolved problems presented by the physics
and meteorology of the ocean, or the evidence favourable or hostile
to the important modern doctrine of the permanence of the great ocean
valleys; but in point of fact very few men who stay at home do occupy
themselves with these questions, and it is no slight privilege to
feel drawn towards them by the hourly suggestions received during a
sea-voyage. Nor is it possible to make light of the simpler pleasures
caused by the satisfaction of mere curiosity, when that is linked by
association with the pictures on which the fancy has worked from one’s
earliest childhood onward. The starting of a covey of flying-fish, the
fringe of cocos palms rising against the horizon, the Southern Cross
and the Magellanic clouds, the reversed apparent motion of the sun from
right to left--none of them very marvellous as mere observed facts--are
so many keys that unlock the closed-up recesses, the blue chambers of
the memory, which the youthful imagination had peopled with shapes of
beauty and wonder and mystery.

Some thrill of delightful anticipation was, I presume, felt by many
of the passengers who went on board the royal mail steamer _Don_ in
Southampton Water on the 17th of March, 1882. Amid the usual waving of
handkerchiefs from the friends who remained behind on board the tender,
we glided seaward, and by four p.m. were going at half speed abreast
of the Isle of Wight. The good ship had suffered severely during the
preceding winter on her homeward passage from the West Indies, when the
heavy seas which swept her upper deck had carried away the covering
of her engine-room, stove in the chief officer’s cabin, and severely
injured her commander, Captain Woolward. On this occasion our voyage
was easy and prosperous, and nothing occurred to test severely the
careful seamanship of Captain Gillies, who had taken the temporary
command.

[_ATLANTIC CYCLONES._]

On the 19th the barometer, which, in spite of a gentle breeze from
south-west, had stood as high as 30·40, fell about a quarter of an inch
between sunrise and sunset; and in the night, on the only occasion
during the entire voyage, remained for some hours below 30·00. A
moderate breeze from the north brought with it a disproportionately
heavy sea, and although there was no sensible pitching, the ship rolled
so heavily as to send many of the passengers to solitary confinement
in their berths. This continued throughout the 20th, afterwards styled
Black Monday by the sufferers from sea-sickness, and we escaped into
smoother water only on the evening of the following day. The discomfort
which I felt from fancying that I had “lost my sea legs” was entirely
relieved by fortunately coming across a distinguished naval officer, on
his way to take a command on the West Indian station, who like myself
was forced to hold on with both hands during the rolling of the ship.

It was clear that we had passed at no great distance from a cyclone in
the North Atlantic--one of those disturbances whose visits are so often
predicted from the western continent, but which so often fortunately
lose their way or get dissipated before they approach our shores.
It would seem that little progress has been made in forecasting the
direction in which these great aërial eddies traverse the ocean, or
the conditions under which they expend their force. It seems allowable
to suppose that the most important of the causes influencing their
direction depend upon the general movements of the great currents of
the atmosphere; and that, as these are constantly modified by the
changing position of the earth in her orbit, the element of season is
primarily to be considered. It being admitted that the origin of these
disturbances is to be sought in the abnormal heating or cooling of some
considerable portion of the earth’s surface, it would seem that, in
the case of the Atlantic, local causes can have little effect, unless
we suppose that the heating of the surface of the Azores in summer, or
the annual descent of icebergs from the polar seas, are adequate to
influence the march of a travelling cyclone.

On the evening of the 20th the barometer had risen again to its former
position, rather over 30·40 inches; the mean of the four following days
was 30·55, and that of the entire run from Southampton to Barbadoes
was 30·36. This fact of the continuance of high or low pressures
at the sea-level at certain seasons in some parts of the world has
scarcely been sufficiently noted in connection with the ordinary
rules for the measurement of heights by means of the barometer. The
tables supplied to travellers are all calculated on the assumption
that the pressure at the sea-level is constant--the English tables
fixing the amount at 30·00 inches of mercury, those calculated on
the continent starting from a pressure of 760 millimetres, or about
29·921 inches. It is admitted that this mode of determining heights,
when comparative observations at a known station are not available,
is subject to serious unavoidable error. With regard, however, to
mountains not remote from the sea-coast, it may be possible to lessen
this inconvenience in many parts of the world by substituting for the
assumed uniform pressure that higher or lower amount which is known to
prevail at given seasons. Such a correction could not, of course, be
made available in very variable climates, such as that of the British
Islands, but might be applied in many parts of the broad zone lying
within 40° of the equator.

[_ATLANTIC SPRING TEMPERATURE._]

Soon after ten p.m. on the 21st we were abreast of the bright light
which marks the harbour of St. Michael’s, but, the night being dark, we
saw very little of that or any other of the Azores group. The spring
temperature of these islands is about the same as that of places in
the same latitude in Portugal; but it appears that the cooling effect
of the east and north-east winds prevailing at that season must in
the mid-Atlantic extend even much farther south. With generally fair
settled weather, the thermometer rose very slowly as we advanced
towards the tropics. Between the 18th and 24th of March, in passing
from 50° to 29° north latitude, the mean daily temperature rose only
from about 55° to about 65° Fahr.--the thermometer never rising to 70°,
nor falling below 52°. Notwithstanding the relatively low temperature,
a few flying-fish were seen on the 24th--rare, it is said, outside the
tropics so early in the year, though sometimes seen in summer as far
north as the Azores.

On March 25th we, for the first time, became conscious of a decided
though moderate change of climate. The thermometer at noon stood
at 71°, and was not seen to fall below 70° until, some three weeks
later, off the Peruvian coast, we met the cold antarctic current which
plays so great a part in the meteorology of that region. We were now
in the regular track of the north-east trade-wind, and my mind was
somewhat exercised to account for the circumstance, said to be of usual
occurrence, that the breeze increases in strength from sunrise during
the day, and falls off, though it does not die away, towards nightfall.
It is easy to understand the cause of this intermittence in breezes on
shore, whether near the sea-coast or in the neighbourhood of mountain
ranges, inasmuch as their direction and strength are determined by the
unequal heating of the surface; but the trade-winds form a main part
of the general system of aërial circulation over the surface of our
planet, and, supposing the phenomenon to be of a normal character, the
explanation is not quite simple. Regarding the trade-wind as a great
current set up in the atmosphere, it is conceivable that the heating
and consequent expansion which must occur as the sun acts upon it,
tends to increase the rate of flow at the bottom of the aërial stream,
while the cooling which ensues as the sun’s heat is withdrawn, has the
contrary effect.

On this and the next day or two my attention was called to the frequent
recurrence of masses of yellow seaweed, sometimes in irregular patches,
but more frequently arranged in regular bands, two or three yards in
width, and extending in a straight line as far as the eye could reach.
We were here at no great distance from the great sargassum fields of
the Northern Atlantic, but I was unable to satisfy myself that the
species seen from the steamer was that which mainly forms the sargassum
beds; and, whatever it might be, this arrangement in long straight
strips seemed deserving of further inquiry. More flying-fish were now
seen, and two or three small whales of the species called by seamen
“black-fish” were sighted during this part of the voyage.

[_ENTERING THE TROPICS._]

On the afternoon of the 26th we entered the tropics, and this and the
following day were thoroughly enjoyable, but did not offer much of
novelty. The colour of the sea was here of a much deeper and purer
blue (rivalling that of the Mediterranean) than we had hitherto
found it, while that of the sky was much paler. The light _cumuli_
with ill-defined edges were such as we are used to in British summer
weather; and, excepting that the interval of twilight was sensibly
shorter, the sunsets were devoid of special interest. At this season
the Southern Cross was above the horizon about nightfall, and was made
out by the practised eyes of some of the officers; but, in truth, it
remains a somewhat insignificant object when seen from the northern
side of the equator, and to enjoy the full splendour of that stellar
hemisphere one must reach high southern latitudes.

Although the thermometer never quite reached 80° Fahr. in the shade
until we touched land, the weather on the 28th and 29th was hot
and close, and few passengers kept up the wholesome practice of a
constitutional walk on the long deck of the _Don_. Of the rain which
constantly seemed impending very little fell.

[_ARRIVAL AT BARBADOES._]

At daybreak on the morning of the 30th, in twelve days and seventeen
hours, we completed the run of about 3340 nautical miles which
separates Southampton from Barbadoes, and found ourselves in the roads
of Bridgetown, about a mile from the shore. Being somewhat prepared,
I was not altogether surprised to find that this first view of a
tropical island forcibly reminded me of the last land I had beheld
at home--the northern shores of the Isle of Wight. Long swelling
hills, on which well-grown trees intervene between tracts of tillage,
present much the same general outline, and at this distance the only
marked difference was the intense dark-green colour of the large trees
that embower the town and nearly conceal all but a few of the chief
buildings. The appearance of things as the morning advanced quite
confirmed the reputation of this small island as the most prosperous,
and, in proportion to its extent, the most productive of the West
Indian Islands. With an area not greater than that of the Isle of
Wight, and a population of about sixty thousand whites and rather more
than a hundred thousand <DW64>s, the value of the exports and imports
surpasses a million sterling under each head; and, besides this, it
is the centre of a considerable transit trade with the other islands.
Under local representative institutions, which have subsisted since
the island was first occupied by the English early in the seventeenth
century, the finances are flourishing, and the colonial government is
free from debt. The average annual produce of sugar is reckoned at
forty-four thousand hogsheads, but varies with the amount of rainfall.
This averages from fifty-eight to fifty-nine inches annually, but any
considerable deficiency, such as occurred in the year 1873, leads to a
proportionate diminution in the sugar crop.

Among other tokens of civilization, the harbour police at Bridgetown
appeared to be thoroughly efficient. As, about nine o’clock, we
prepared to go ashore, we found on deck two privates--black men in
plain uniform--who seemed to have no difficulty in keeping perfect
order amid the crowd of boatmen that swarmed round the big ship. We
had already learned the event of the hour--the fall of three inches
of rain during the day and night preceding our arrival. This is more
than usually falls during the entire month of March, and seemed to be
welcomed by the entire population. On landing we encountered a good
deal of greasy grey mud in the streets, but all was nearly dry when,
after a short excursion, we returned in the afternoon. After a short
stay in the town, where there was a little shopping to be done, and
where some of my companions indulged in a second breakfast of fried
flying-fish, I started with a pleasant party of fellow-travellers to
see something of the island. It was arranged that, after a drive of six
or seven miles, we should go to luncheon at the house of Mr. C----, the
owner of a sugar-plantation, whose brother, Colonel C----, was one of
our fellow-passengers. We enjoyed the benefit of the recent heavy rain
in the comparative coolness of the air--the thermometer scarcely rose
above 80° Fahr. in the shade--and in freedom from dust.

A small, low island, nearly every acre of which has been reduced to
cultivation, cannot offer very much of picturesque beauty; nevertheless
the first peep of the tropics did not fail to present abundant matter
of interest. In this part of the world the dry season, now coming to an
end, is the winter of vegetation, and, of course, there was not very
much to be seen of the herbaceous flora; but the beauty of the trees
and the rich hues of their foliage quite surpassed my anticipations.
The majority of these are plants introduced either from the larger
islands or from more distant tropical countries, that have been planted
in the neighbourhood of houses.

One of the first that strikes a new-comer in the tropics is the mango
tree, which, though introduced by man from its original home in
tropical Asia, is now common throughout the hotter parts of America.
Its widespreading branches, bearing dense tufts of large leathery
leaves, make it as welcome for the sake of protection from the sun
as for its fruit, which is a luxury that some persons never learn
to appreciate. The cinnamon tree (_Canella alba_), common in most
of the West Indian Islands, is another of the plants that serve for
ornament and shade while ministering products useful to man. Of the
smaller shade-trees, the pimento (probably _Pimenta acris_) was also
conspicuous, and very many others which I failed to recognize, might
be added to the new impressions of the first day in the tropics. One
of the most curious is that known to the English residents as the
sand-box tree, the _Hura crepitans_ of botanists. It belongs to the
_Euphorbiaceæ_, or Spurge family, but is strangely unlike any of the
Old-World forms of that order. Here the fruit is in form rather like
a small melon, of hard woody texture, divided into numerous--ten to
twenty--cells. If, when taken from the tree, the top is sawn off and
the seeds scooped out, no farther change occurs, and it may be, and
often is, as the name implies, used as a sand-box. But if left until
the seeds are mature, the whole capsule bursts open with a loud report,
scattering the seeds to a distance. Thinking that a small young fruit,
if dried very gradually, might escape this result, I carried one away,
which, after my return to Europe, I placed in a small wooden box in
my herbarium. Some nine months after it had been collected it must
have exploded in my absence, for, unlocking the room one day, I found
the box broken to pieces, and the valves of the fruit and the seeds
scattered in all directions about the room.

[_POPULATION OF BARBADOES._]

Next to the vegetable inhabitants, I was interested in the black
population of the island. The first impression on finding one’s self
amid fellow-creatures so markedly different in physical characters
is one of strangeness, and one is tempted to ask whether, after all,
there can be any pith in the arguments once confidently urged to
establish a specific difference between the <DW64> and the white man.
But this very quickly wears away, and a contrary impression arises.
The second thought is that, considering what we know of the conditions
under which the native races of Equatorial Africa have been developed
during an unrecorded series of ages, and of the subsequent conditions
during several generations of slavery, the surprising thing is that the
differences should not be far greater than they are.

It would be very rash to draw positive conclusions from what could be
seen in a visit of a few hours, but, undoubtedly, the general effect
was pleasing, and tended to confirm the assertion that the difficult
problem of converting a population of black slaves into useful members
of a free community has been better solved in Barbadoes than in any
other European colony. So far as the elementary wants are concerned,
there was a complete absence of the painful suspicion so commonly felt
as regards the poor in Europe and the East, that their food is either
insufficient or unwholesome. With very few exceptions they all seemed
sleek and well fed, and their clothing showed no symptoms of poverty.
In the town their dress was generally neat, and most of the women made
a display of bright colour in handkerchiefs and parasols. What struck
me most was a general air of good humour and enjoyment. One may be
misled in this respect by the facial characteristics of the black race,
which, in the absence of disturbing causes, readily turn to a smile or
a grin. But, whether in the streets of