At Dinner-Time We Landed Among A Party Of Fuegians.
At First They Were Not Inclined To Be Friendly; For Until The
Captain Pulled In Ahead Of The Other Boats, They Kept Their
Slings In Their Hands.
We soon, however, delighted them by
trifling presents, such as tying red tape round their heads.
They liked our biscuit:
But one of the savages touched with
his finger some of the meat preserved in tin cases which I
was eating, and feeling it soft and cold, showed as much disgust
at it, as I should have done at putrid blubber. Jemmy
was thoroughly ashamed of his countrymen, and declared his
own tribe were quite different, in which he was wofully
mistaken. It was as easy to please as it was difficult to
satisfy these savages. Young and old, men and children, never
ceased repeating the word "yammerschooner," which means
"give me." After pointing to almost every object, one after
the other, even to the buttons on our coats, and saying their
favourite word in as many intonations as possible, they would
then use it in a neuter sense, and vacantly repeat
"yammerschooner." After yammerschoonering for any article very
eagerly, they would by a simple artifice point to their young
women or little children, as much as to say, "If you will
not give it me, surely you will to such as these."
At night we endeavoured in vain to find an uninhabited
cove; and at last were obliged to bivouac not far from a
party of natives.
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