CHAPTER IX. Talcahuana.--Its Streets.--Public Buildings.--Market.--Calaboose.--The Harbor.--Churches.--Paulparees.--Inhabitants.--Manners and Customs.--Getting off Water.--Mackey again in Trouble.--In the Calaboose.--Californians.--Climate and Products of Chili.--Horseback Riding.--Spanish Wake.--Desertion.--American Consul.--Mackey's Oration.--Swimming ashore.--Departure.

Talcahuana is the sea-port of the city of Conception, and is situated at the head of a beautiful bay, protected from all winds by the high lands inclosing it. At the entrance of the harbor is the island of Karakina, on the north side of which is the passage, and on the south side the false passage, as it is called, not being navigable for ships. Abreast of the anchorage, which is immediately in front of the town, is a small fort, with but few guns, and in a very good position to do execution, with proper management. The houses are mostly one story, and of stone. They are obliged to build them thus on account of frequent earthquakes. They present a very neat appearance, being nearly all painted white, or whitewashed. The streets are rather narrow, but kept very clean. Talcahuana can not boast much of her public buildings, they being “few and far between.” The market, if it may be so called, is very large in proportion to the size of the town, being a wide space of ground, inclosed by high brick walls, with no roof. The church, of which the inhabitants appear very proud, presents much the appearance of an old stone barn. The calaboose, or jail, is an old stone building in rather a dilapidated condition; but the “city fathers,” with a just appreciation of the wants of their “constituents,” are engaged in the erection of a new one on a much larger scale.

Immediately in the rear of the town is a fine eminence. On arriving at its summit we found ourselves well repaid for our trouble by the beautiful prospect before us. The busy multitude in the streets below—the neat, bright appearance of the houses—the shipping lying at anchor, with their various national colors flying—the smooth, unruffled surface of the waters of the bay, inclosed by beautiful green hills and mountains—in the distance the blue waters of the Pacific—all united to bring before us one of the most beautiful scenes our eyes ever beheld.

A number of years since the old city of Talcahuana was destroyed by an earthquake, a large portion of which sunk. Where the most thriving part once stood, nothing is now to be seen but a low, marshy waste. Some remains of the old city are yet visible in the town.

The inhabitants speak the Spanish language—are hospitable, good-natured, and, as a general thing, very indolent. They are very loose in their morals, but warm supporters of their religion, which is the Roman Catholic, it being the only creed tolerated. The females are rather dark, very graceful and sprightly, beautiful singers, and some of them are very handsome. The town is filled with “Paulparee,” or rum-shops, which are frequented principally by Spaniards and seamen.

On Monday, March 11th, we commenced getting off water and fresh provisions, such as potatoes, onions, turnips, etc. In getting off water, two boat’s crews are generally dispatched to the watering-place with a “raft of casks,” which are filled and towed to the ship, and then hoisted on board. In this manner four or five hundred barrels of water are obtained in about two days—a sufficient quantity for a six months’ cruise. By some fortune or misfortune, Mackey was one of the crew dispatched to the watering-place, and, while there, he thought he would take an observation of the country round about. Accordingly, he wandered some distance to the top of a high hill, and, while much engaged in viewing the beauties of nature, two or three “vigilantes,” or policemen, appeared, and demanded of him “what he was doing there.” Mackey replied, “Nothing, but looking at the country.” They then asked him if he had a pass (which is a necessary article to every person while on shore), and Mackey was obliged to confess he had not, when they very politely offered to show him “the elephant.” Mackey begged to be excused, declining their services; but the vigilantes were not to be put off. There was no help for him; go he must; he was in a fix; so off he marched, muttering about liberty, etc., until they arrived at the calaboose, where he was snugly quartered.

The next day, being on shore, we thought we would give Mackey a call, and see how the poor fellow fared. We found him in excellent spirits. He said he “had just as lief stop there as not; for, if he was on board the ship, he would have to work, and there he got plenty to eat and had nothing to do.”

To-day the town was filled with Californians and sailors—some trying their hands at riding on horseback, and rather comical work they make of it. Others are exploring the town, chatting with pretty girls, bantering with the Spaniards, or enjoying themselves in dancing. Some of them require considerable sea-room, whether it is from the effects of coming ashore after a long passage, or the spiritual influence of the aguadente, we can not say. However, they appear to be perfectly at home and contented.

Chili has a very mild and wholesome climate, and is very fertile. Large quantities of fine wheat are raised, and agriculture generally receives much attention. Apples, peaches, and pears are raised in abundance, while grapes are cultivated to a very great extent, principally for the purpose of making wine, which is said to be of a very superior flavor. The face of the country presents a rolling appearance, with occasional high hills, and in the distance are seen, towering above the clouds, the snow-covered peaks of the Andes.

Chili is also renowned for its extensive mines of silver, gold, and copper, which, however, are not worked so much at present as formerly. The government is republican, and quite liberal in its views.

The next day, Friday, the 15th of March, we devoted to riding through the country. The horses here are well trained, but, to one unaccustomed to the Chilian mode of guiding them, ludicrous incidents will sometimes occur. If you wish to turn to the left, you must pull the right rein, and vice versa. They are very tender-bitted, and a slight jerk of the reins will bring the horse to an immediate stand. It is very common to see a rider urging his horse to a full run, and, not understanding them, pull the reins in order to sit secure, when, lo and behold, the horse suddenly stops, and the rider keeps on going, measuring his length in the road some distance ahead.

While strolling about town in the evening, we heard low musical sounds proceeding from a house near by. On presenting ourselves at the door we were cordially invited to enter, and were immediately ushered into a large, square room, filled with Spaniards of both sexes. On a table at the farther end of the room was the corpse of a beautiful child of about two years of age, in a sitting posture. Its little arms were crossed on its breast; the sweet, heavenly smile that still lingered on the features of clay, and the fresh, rosy cheeks, gave it a most beautiful and angelic appearance. Our first conjecture on entering the room was that it was wax-work. It was dressed in white, and decorated with flowers. On the table were a large number of wax tapers burning, while the wall around and above was covered with paintings of the Crucifixion, Virgin Mary, etc. In one corner of the room some seven or eight persons were chanting the solemn death-chants of the Catholic Church, accompanied by several guitars. The parents of the child were seated on a low bed, mourning and sobbing in a most piteous manner, while several relatives, as we supposed them to be, were gathered around, endeavoring to comfort them in their affliction.

We advanced by invitation and saluted the corpse, and, as our eyes were fixed on the lovely image, we thought we could almost perceive it answer our gaze by a sweet smile, so fresh and life-like did it look. It was truly a solemn, mournful, and yet beautiful sight. Still, the appearance of the bottle disgraced the scene, as it was passed from one to the other, although it is customary at all Spanish wakes.

On the morning of Saturday, the 16th of March, we found that five men had deserted from the ship. The liberty of the remainder of the crew was therefore stopped, which appeared to cause considerable dissatisfaction. However, this was the only course left for the captain, as most of the men on board had made up their minds to desert in order to get to California. Stopping all communication of the crew with the shore must put an end to the desertions.

This state of affairs continued until the following Monday, when the crew, being so very much dissatisfied, sent a petition to the American consul requesting to be discharged from the ship. He came on board, and all those wishing to be discharged were ordered to take the starboard side of the quarter-deck. The captain, by request of the consul, inquired of each separately his reasons for wishing to be discharged. Some gave as a reason that they did not like the business; others, that they had been ill treated; and one, that he was under age when he shipped, and he wanted to go home. The consul could scarcely refrain from laughing outright at such reasons, and finally told them he could not help them. As they had signed the ship’s articles, he could not interfere in the matter; the captain was the man to settle that.

Mackey, who had been intently watching every word that fell from the lips of the consul, thought it about time for him to put in his oar, and, speaking out, said he “had been abused at various times, and once had been kicked while at the helm.” The officer who had taken this liberty said that “Mackey was asleep at the helm one night, and he gave him a slight kick, just sufficient to waken him.” The consul replied that he could do nothing about that. Mackey now broke forth with great earnestness: “I thought American consuls were sent to these places to protect and defend American citizens, whether sailors or captains; but you say you can do nothing about it. What are you good for, then? What business have you here? You might much better be at home about your business. Any way, you are good for nothing here but to pamper to every captain’s wishes that will give you a cake of hard bread and a pint of beans.”

This speech Mackey delivered with great gusto, making flourishes that would have shamed an orator. The speech, of course, “brought down the house,” and caused a broad grin upon the countenance of all. The consul took it very coolly; the men were sent forward, and he, in company with the captain, left for shore.

And here we would remark that in many cases Mackey’s words were true. It is a shameful and lamentable fact, that in many instances American consuls regard seamen as “having no rights that they are bound to respect;” and it is often the case that masters of vessels who have been ill treating their men will, on entering port, present the consul with a small quantity of provisions, or something of that kind, and the result is, that no “foremast hand” from that ship can obtain justice from the consul. We make no comments on this; we simply state the facts, and let our readers make their own.

Our crew were now heartily sick and tired of port, and longed to be on the “open sea” again. On Wednesday, March 20th, while all hands were at breakfast, Mackey determined to make one more effort for his liberty. Accordingly, he made his clothes up in a nice little bundle, fastened them on his back, slipped cautiously down the cable, and struck boldly out for the shore. On his crossing the stern of a ship, the captain of which had just come on deck, and espying a man swimming, hailed him:

“Where are you going, my man?”

“Going ashore; where do you suppose?” shouted Mackey.

One of our officers, happening to come up on deck at this moment, thought he saw something black bobbing up and down in the water quite a distance off. On looking with the glass, it was found to be Mackey, with his bunch of clothes on his back, and almost ashore. A boat was immediately lowered and went in chase. Mackey espied it coming, and struck out manfully; as for dear life he swam, but it was of no avail. When nearly to the shore, he was taken and thrust into the bottom of the boat, brought on board, and put in irons. A ship’s company near us mounted their rigging and gave “three cheers for the man who attempted to swim ashore!”

At 10 A.M. of that day we weighed anchor, and, with beautiful weather and a fine breeze, left the port of Talcahuana.

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