Captive in Patagonia

Captive in Patagonia: An American in the Land of the "Giants" (1849) by Benjamin Franklin Bourne

For my birthday, I received this book as a gift from my wife; actually, I chose it myself after spending an afternoon visiting a bookstore in search of a present. And why did I choose this one in particular? Well, it was actually two books, and I need to add two more given by my parents, all belonging to the same collection. This is a collection released to the market a few years ago, published by Ediciones Continente, with the support of the Fundación de Historia Natural Félix de Azara. As stated on a page at the end of each book: "The publication of this collection has the support and advice of the Fundación de Historia Natural Félix de Azara, a non-governmental, non-profit organization created on November 13, 2000, with the objective of contributing to the conservation of nature and cultural heritage; the development of science; and the proper sustainable use of natural resources."

It is a collection of books focusing on ancient Patagonia, all detailing early voyages of exploration and discovery of those lands.

I had already read two other books from this same collection, but those dated back to around 1880, whereas the events in this account took place in 1849, making it one of the most remote in time. According to what I read, it is the earliest recorded account of someone being captured, taken inland, and managing to survive to tell the tale. While there were many others, most voyages did not venture into the territory; they always hugged the coast, and if they did land, they did not push far into the continent.

This book tells the story of Benjamin Franklin Bourne, a sailor who, motivated by the gold rush in the United States, boarded a ship near New York intending to reach California, where his brothers already were. Traveling by ship was chosen due to the belief that it was less dangerous than crossing the United States overland and facing the hazards of those territories. As it turned out, when Bourne arrived at the entrance of the Strait of Magellan, he went ashore to obtain meat through trade and was captured by an indigenous tribe. He was held captive for four months until he managed to escape. Years later, he wrote this book recounting his captivity, along with descriptions of customs and habits, wanderings, adventures, fears, and everything related to the trials he experienced, constituting a rich descriptive material of that era and place.

The book features a four-page introduction written by Nerio Tello, which is informative and, in my view, somewhat biased in parts. For example, when he states: "Bourne was neither the first nor the last to leave his impressions of a fantastic journey for the enjoyment of posterity or for the enrichment of some opportunistic publisher." What does he mean by "the enrichment of some opportunistic publisher"? If so, is that wrong? I think not at all; an "opportunistic" publisher gives work to translators, illustrators, proofreaders, and an entire chain ranging from paper and ink and their manufacturing process to the dissemination of the work and bringing it closer to readers—and if they happen to grow wealthy in the process, well, so much the better! Perhaps I saw denigration where none existed and am mistaken, or perhaps not.

Otherwise, it is a brief, concise, and instructive introduction that places the reader in time and place, though a map graphic for better comprehension would have been a welcome addition, something that can be found in another book of the same collection.

At the beginning of the narrative, the author says: "Of course, we had high hopes of achieving our objective, which was to reach the new Ophir as easily and quickly as possible." This makes me think of the adventures and dangers faced by those who chose to reach their goal overland. I am unaware of books in Spanish on the subject since I have never looked into it, but surely they must exist.

At one point, the author includes a quotation offering a clarification regarding language, mentioning his own scarce knowledge of Spanish from visiting a few South American ports (though he does not specify whether during the voyage or from prior visits) and the same for the indigenous chief (perhaps due to limited contact with Spaniards). Thus, readers must imagine a mixed situation of sounds, gestures, and gesticulations combining Spanish, English, and the Tehuelche language.

The writing level of the account denotes a certain compositional ability and acquired knowledge that I find difficult to believe a simple gold prospector and sailor would possess. But perhaps that is a prejudice; maybe this person's education was high or significant compared to the rest, considering he lived in the northern United States, the most culturally rich, diverse, and advanced region of the era. I searched for information about this figure and found very little—almost nothing. Apparently, he also wrote a biography called Autobiography, full of anecdotes and teachings beginning with a letter to his son. Reading it might be interesting if he was indeed an adventurer, but currently, not much material on Bourne is available online.

Another thing that caught my attention is the cover image of the book, clearly a painted drawing. To whom did it belong? Who created it? Where was it taken from? There is only a reference regarding the "cover design." The interior of the book contains only two or three illustrations taken from the original 1853 edition; it is very likely that the cover references one of those original illustrations, or is a cropped portion of one, enhanced with color. The original edition can be found on Google Books and features several black-and-white illustrations of the same style.

One excerpt I found amusing, especially regarding one of the phrases used, reads: "They are excessively filthy in their personal habits. They never wash, so their hands and faces are covered with dirt, so thick and deposited from such remote times that their natural color only appears in a few places, uncovered by the mechanical displacement of some of the strata covering the surface. This condition makes them highly prone to the multiplication of 'living, moving creatures,' with which their persons are abundantly populated." (p. 28)

He makes several references to Christianity, influenced by religion—perhaps some branch of Protestantism—from which the word "creatures" as a synonym for other possibilities (such as bugs, insects, vermin, etc.) likely originates.

Two very particular and even amusing customs caught my attention. The first relates to a kind of graffiti—something that to this day is very common among many people anywhere. On page 111, it states verbatim: "Then we continued our journey to San Nicholas Bay, a very beautiful natural harbor. Once ashore, we could see engraved on the tree trunks the names of a number of ships that had preceded us in passing through the straits. Each one bore the dates of inscription. Of course, we added ourselves to the catalog."

Aside from being graffiti, this could also serve as a guide regarding which vessel was ahead, or if word circulated that a ship was ahead and its name was missing, it could be a possible symptom of some calamity (a shipwreck? a severe storm that blew them off course?). On the next page, there is an even better anecdote: "On the branch of a tree curving over a small stream, a sailor discovered a bottle hanging with papers inside. They took it on board to examine its contents. Apparently, three or four ships that had crossed the straits had left signs of their passage, such as snowstorms, loss of masts, anchors, chains, etc... Captain Morton wrote a humorous account of our course and left it in the bottle as a contribution to that compendium of curiosities. For my part, I added a contribution recounting my capture by the Indians and my escape, appending a plea that if it should fall into the hands of someone traveling to the United States or England, it might be published. (...) Instead, I must recount that the narrative I left bottled up in a desolate spot fell into the hands of the Indians, for whom it had no meaning; they then sold it to a passing merchant who deciphered it and sent it to the Smith news agency in Boston, as a result of which it was published in the Boston Atlas." Apparently, this was true.

Something else I found interesting and was previously unaware of was the method used by the English to search for three individuals who had been captured by the Indians and of whom nothing was known. This refers to the case of Captain Eaton and the two sailors Simms and Douglas, who were captured and subsequently murdered by the Indians around 1847. According to what I read, this was an exceptional case of violence by the Indians; I found information regarding this in an article titled "Los aónikenk: ¿Epítome del buen salvaje?" (The Aonikenk: Epitome of the Noble Savage?) written by a Chilean researcher named Mateo Martinic B. What struck me as novel is the search technique employed for the captives, as Bourne recounts: "The English government had taken great pains and incurred considerable expense to obtain information about these unfortunate young men, who belonged to very respectable families in England. They had sent out boats and printed handkerchiefs detailing the plight of the missing men. The idea was that these handkerchiefs might be picked up by Indians, who would then agree to provide information about the prisoners."

To conclude this commentary on what caught my attention in this book—without delving into the most important issues that are thoroughly treated and explained in literature, such as the actual customs and habits of the local aborigines—is the matter of names. This is an issue I found addressed in other texts on the internet and has surely been a subject of study. The author expresses this in a very elegant and peculiar way when he writes: "The reader will undoubtedly have noticed that 'the tribe' has remained anonymous until now."

And so it is: the absence of proper names, save for a few. Let us begin with the indigenous chief with whom the captive had the most interaction, whom he constantly mentions as "Chief Parosilver." Parosilver appears to be an invention of the author himself, carrying the air of a place name anywhere except Patagonia. In fact, I found no records of any chief bearing the name Parosilver.

On page 80, Bourne says: "Indeed, proper names were very rarely heard. Even in conversations about others, they managed to avoid 'pronouncing names,' as strictly as many honorable politicians, though I could never discover why. Through signs, gestures, and other indications, they pointed out the person being spoken of, and did not seem to suffer any inconvenience from what to us would be a serious void."

I found this topic mentioned in a Google Books publication titled "América en el imaginario europeo: estudios sobre la idea de América a lo largo de cinco siglos" (Carmen Alemany Bay, María Beatriz Aracil Varón, Universidad de Alicante, 2009). On page 92, it states: "Darwin's reference to 'an old Maria' found among the Patagonians of the Strait of Magellan—'one of the most influential women of the tribe'—and Bourne's references to Chief Parosilver—'Cohanaco, the chief's youngest son, also appears occasionally in his account'—do not prevent us from noticing that the members of the indigenous mass rarely receive a proper name in either account to individualize them. Bourne attempted a contradictory justification by assuring that he could never know 'if they had any distinctive name; if they did, they never used it. In fact, proper names were very rarely heard.'"