i8o 
FROM YOKOHAMA TO VALPARAISO. 
1704 and 1709—in absolute solitude. He is said to have occasionally crossed the ridge 
which divides the two bays in order to reach a place commanding an extensive view of 
the sea, and still known as “Selkirk’s Look-out.” The spot is now marked by a tablet 
erected to his memory by Commodore Powell and the officers of H.M.S. Topaze in 
1868. Selkirk, as the tablet informs us, died lieutenant of H.M.S. “Weymouth,” in 1728, at 
the age of forty-seven. 
Defoe, using the licence accorded to a writer of fiction, has adorned the abode of 
Robinson Crusoe with the rich tropical vegetation of the West Indies; but Juan Fernandez, 
situated in the comparatively low latitude of 34 0 S., is exposed to cold winds from the 
Antarctic, and its general appearance is barren and bleak, not unlike the west coast of Scotland. 
The canopy of clouds which almost constantly rests upon its summits, and the dark patches 
of myrtle forest, combine to produce an impression of profound melancholy. Yet are these 
forests enlivened with the tiny humming-bird, and the glens boast of a luxuriant vegetation, 
composed of the myrtle, the peach—just in blossom at the time of our visit—and a variety of 
ferns and flowering shrubs. Bright green patches of mint fill the air with a delicious perfume. 
The accident of men being left behind, or being wrecked upon a deserted island, or 
their being abandoned by evil-intentioned shipmates, is of more frequent occurrence than the 
reader might be inclined to suppose. Unless speedily rescued, the castaway dies a miserable 
death, for man, at all times liable to disease and injuries, is unable to cope single-handed 
with the forces of Nature. Even Defoe found it necessary to the truth of his marvellous 
delineation—the day-dream of so many youthful brains—to supply Robinson Crusoe with 
such provisions, tools, weapons, and ammunition as could be saved from the wreck—in other 
words, with the aid of his fellow-men, as represented by these indispensable implements. 
Alexander Selkirk enjoyed similar advantages, else he would not have lived to tell the story 
of his adventures. Moreover, he had at his disposal the moral and intellectual resources of an 
educated mind. This privilege, which is lacking to many a poor shipwrecked mariner, probably 
saved him from madness—one of the greatest dangers of a solitary life. 
The settlement of San Juan Bautista, in front of which we lay at anchor, consists of 
a ruined fort and a few huts inhabited by natives of Chili, engaged in looking after cattle, 
killing fur-seals, and occasionally supplying passing vessels with fresh provisions. On a 
level with the fort are a number of caves, hollowed out of the volcanic bluffs by human 
hands. They probably served at one time as a retreat to the buccaneers who made this 
island a centre of their predatory excursions against the Spanish settlements on the coasts of 
Chili and Peru. The largest of these caves communicates by a passage with an inner cave, 
also artificially constructed. The ceilings, walls, and floors are covered with a thick and 
exquisitely beautiful clothing of fern. Sheltered from the sun, wind, and rain, every delicate 
stem and leaf was absolutely perfect in shape, and of a pure fresh green colour—indeed, 
one instinctively shrank from treading upon this wondrous carpet of Nature’s making. It 
was a strange mutation that these haunts of brutal pirates should be thus transformed to 
leafy retreats where Titania might hold her revels. 
