1835.] RIDE TO CUOAO. 283 



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 was 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 companions, 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 ingra- 

 tiated 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 complaints 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 break- 

 ing. 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 had some difficulty 

 in reaching the point, owing to the intolerably bad paths; for 

 everywhere in the shade the ground soon becomes a perfect quag- 

 mire. The point itself is a bold rocky hill. It is covered by a 

 plant allied, I believe, to Bromelia, and called by the inhabitants 

 Chepones. In scrambling through the beds, our hands were very 



