CHAPTER V.

The feathered tribes are very numerous on these islands of Southern hemisphere. Of penguins, there are four kinds--the king penguin, the macaroni, the jackass, and the rookery. The first of these is much larger than a goose; the other three are smaller, differing in appearance in several particulars. They all walk upright, with their legs projecting from their bodies in the same direction with their tails. When fifty or more of them are seen in file, they appear, at a distance, like a company of soldiers. They carry their heads high, with their wings drooping like two arms. The breast-feathers are delicately white, with a line of black running across the crops. Seen at a distance, they have the appearance of little men, with a white bosom, black neckerchief, and short breeches. Their gait on land, however, is very awkward--rather more so than that of a sailor just returned from a long voyage.

When tamed, the penguin becomes quite tractable. A lady at the isle had domesticated and made quite a pet of a king penguin, which she, however, proposed to relinquish for the sum of thirty dollars. She had taught him to sit at table with her. A sip of coffee he seemed to enjoy with much gusto; and if, perchance, she attempted to raise the cup to her lips before first presenting his majesty with a draught, he would, quick as thought, with a blow from one of his “hands,” dash the cup to the floor. He followed her about the house as a child follows its mother; and she assured us he was a great deal of company for her when alone.

Another sea-fowl peculiar to the islands is the upland-goose, which is about the size of our domestic goose. Their plumage is rich and glossy: that of the gander is dazzlingly white. The down is equal to that of the swan. The teal are also found here, and far surpassing in beauty those of this country. Their bills and feet are blue; their wings of a golden green. The ducks are similar to those found in the United States; but the manner of going a-ducking very dissimilar,--no lying in wait half a day before getting a good shot. You might take your gun and shoot them down, and dozens will come to ascertain the cause of the report.

Previous to our arrival, three other vessels had put into the harbor in distress, and had been condemned. The crews of these vessels were constantly out gunning. I would see them often returning over the hills, laden with those beautiful white geese, looking like so many swans. A Dutch captain, whose vessel had been condemned, was very contentedly pursuing the “even tenor of his way,” bringing in the game, while “mine frow” was as industriously manufacturing feather beds. Never having heard them say anything about getting away, I presume they are yet at the old vocation.

A moral philosopher and naturalist would be highly interested in contemplating, for days, the operations of a South Sea rookery, observing the order and regularity with which everything is conducted. When a sufficient number of penguins, albatross, etc., are assembled on shore, they proceed to the execution of the grand object for which they left their native element. First, they trace a well-defined parallelogram, of requisite extent to accommodate the whole fraternity,--perhaps from one to four or five acres. One side runs parallel with the water’s edge, and is left open for egress and regress. They then commence picking up the stones, and depositing them outside the lines; thus creating quite a little wall on three sides. Within this wall they form a pathway, several feet in width, which would not suffer, in regard to smoothness, compared with any fashionable promenade in our city parks. This path is for the sentinels to patrol at night. They next lay out the whole in little squares, formed by narrow paths which cross each other at right angles. At each intersection of these paths, an albatross constructs her nest; while in the centre of each square is a penguin’s nest.

Although the penguin and albatross profess such sincere attachment for one another, they not only form their nests in a different manner, but the penguin will rob her friend’s nest, whenever an opportunity presents; being ambitious, I suppose, to produce a large family. The penguin’s nest is formed by an excavation in the earth; while that of the albatross is formed by throwing up a mound of earth, eight or ten inches high; on the summit of which she can scrutinize the proceedings of her nearest neighbors and best friends.

The camp of the rookery is in continual motion; penguins passing through the different paths, on their return from aquatic excursions, eager to caress their mates after a temporary absence; while the latter are passing out in quest of refreshment and recreation. At the same time, the air is almost darkened by an innumerable number of albatross hovering over the rookery, continually lighting, and meeting their companions; while others are rising, and shaping their course for the sea. To see these creatures of the ocean so faithfully discharge the duties assigned them by the great Creator; to witness their affectionate re-unions, their numerous acts of tenderness and courtesy to each other, the reflection naturally arises, that, if there was only as much harmony and genuine affection between wedded pairs of the human family, the connubial state would then indeed be “all that we dream of heaven.”

We had remained at the islands about a month, when the ship Humayoon, from Dundee, (McKenzie, master,) bound to Valparaiso, laden with coal, tar, and liquors, put into port to procure water and beef. The captain formed an acquaintance with my husband, and, after learning the particulars of our situation, very kindly offered us a passage to Valparaiso; from whence we could, in all probability, arrive home sooner than by remaining where we were. After having procured the necessaries required, I expected the captain would at once proceed on his voyage; but, being perfectly independent, as he was sole owner of the fine ship and cargo, he protracted his stay at the settlement day after day, thereby gratifying the mirth-loving portion of the community by assembling them at different times on ship-board, to join in the merry dance. He had on board several musical instruments, which he was taking out to dispose of; and, being possessed of extraordinary musical talents, the people were perfectly delighted and entranced with specimens of his skill. He had a perfect passion for Scotch airs, which, all conceded, never before sounded half so enlivening. But pleasures, however transporting, unhappily cannot last. No chain, be it of gold, or pearl, or flowers, can bind the stubborn wings of Time, and bid him loiter on his way. On the morning of the 25th of November, he weighed anchor, and turned her bows towards the entrance.

I cast a last, sad, lingering look at the old Nonantum, and bade adieu to kind friends, whom, probably, I should never meet again on the journey of life, although they would be often remembered. During my sojourn at the islands, although I found kind friends, I passed many a gloomy hour. As the season approached which, from time immemorial, in dear old New England, has been observed as a day of thanksgiving and prayer,--a day, of all others, when severed families assemble under the paternal roof, to meet once again the loved friends of their youth, to tread again the paths hallowed by childhood’s earliest recollections,--the anniversary of such a day, while in this remote region, crowded my memory with reminiscences of the past, pleasurable, from the associations which they recalled, and painful, from the position which I then occupied.