1 835. J RIDE TO CUCAO. '2»S 



late. The country on each side of the lake was one unbroken 

 forest. In the same periagua with us, a cow was embarked. To 

 get so large an animal into a small boat appears at first a diffi- 

 culty, but the Indians managed it in a minute. They brought 

 the cow alongside the boat, which was heeled towards her ; then 

 placing two oars under her belly, with their ends resting on the 

 gunwale, by the aid of these levers they fairly tumbled the poor 

 beast, heels over head, into the bottom of the boat, and then 

 lashed her down with ropes. At Cucao we found an uninhabited 

 hovel (which is the residence of the padre when he pays this 

 Capella a visit), where, lighting a fire, we cooked our supper, 

 and were very comfortable. 



The district of Cucao is the only inhabited part on the whole 

 west coast of Chiloe. It contains about thirty or forty Indian 

 families, who are scattered along four or five miles of the shore. 

 They are very much secluded from the rest of Chiloe, and have 

 scarcely any sort of commerce, except sometimes in a little oil, 

 which they get from seal-blubber. They are tolerably dressed 

 in clothes of their own manufacture, and they have plenty to eat. 

 They seemed, however, discontented, yet humble to a degree 

 which it Mas quite painful to witness. These feelings are, I 

 think, chiefly to be attributed to the harsh and authoritative 

 manner in which they are treated by their rulers. Our com- 

 panions, although so very civil to us, behaved to the poor Indians 

 as if they had been slaves, rather than free men. They ordered 

 provisions and the use of their horses, without ever condescending 

 to say how much, or indeed whether the owners should be paid 

 at all. In the morning, being left alone with these poor people, 

 we soon ingratiated ourselves by presents of cigars and mate. A 

 lump of white sugar was divided between all present, and tasted 

 with the greatest curiosity. The Indians ended all their com- 

 plaints by saying, " And it is only because we are poor Indians, 

 and know nothing; but it was not so when we had a King." 



The next day after breakfast, we rode a few miles northward 

 to Punta Huantamo. The road lay along a very broad beach, 

 on which, even after so many fine days, a terrible surf was 

 breaking. I was assured that after a heavy gale, the roar can 

 be heard at night even at Castro, a distance of no less than 

 twenty-one sea-miles across a hilly and wooded country. We 



