used by the government as a penal colony for nearly two years; and the governor,—­ an Englishman who had entered the Chilian navy,—­ with a priest, half a dozen taskmasters, and a body of soldiers, were stationed there to keep them in order.  This was no easy task; and, only a few months before our arrival, a few of them had stolen a boat at night, boarded a brig lying in the harbor, sent the captain and crew ashore in their boat, and gone off to sea.  We were informed of this, and loaded our arms and kept strict watch on board through the night, and were careful not to let the convicts get our knives from us when on shore.  The worst part of the convicts, I found, were locked up under sentry, in caves dug into the side of the mountain, nearly half-way up, with mule-tracks leading to them, whence they were taken by day and set to work under taskmasters upon building an aqueduct, a wharf, and other public works; while the rest lived in the houses which they put up for themselves, had their families with them, and seemed to me to be the laziest people on the face of the earth.  They did nothing but take a paseo into the woods, a paseo among the houses, a paseo at the landing-place, looking at us and our vessel, and too lazy to speak fast; while the others were driven about, at a rapid trot, in single file, with burdens on their shoulders, and followed up by their taskmasters, with long rods in their hands, and broad-brimmed straw hats upon their heads.  Upon what precise grounds this great distinction was made, I do not know, and I could not very well know, for the governor was the only man who spoke English upon the island, and he was out of my walk, for I was a sailor ashore as well as on board.

Having filled our casks we returned on board, and soon after, the governor dressed in a uniform like that of an American militia officer, the Padre, in the dress of the gray friars, with hood and all complete, and the Capitan, with big whiskers and dirty regimentals, came on board to dine.  While at dinner a large ship appeared in the offing, and soon afterwards we saw a light whale-boat pulling into the harbor.  The ship lay off and on, and a boat came alongside of us, and put on board the captain, a plain young Quaker, dressed all in brown.  The ship was the Cortes, whaleman, of New Bedford, and had put in to see if there were any vessels from round the Horn, and to hear the latest news from America.  They remained aboard a short time, and had a little talk with the crew, when they left us and pulled off to their ship, which, having filled away, was soon out of sight.

A small boat which came from the shore to take away the governor and suite—­ as they styled themselves—­ brought, as a present to the crew, a large pail of milk, a few shells, and a block of sandal-wood.  The milk, which was the first we had tasted since leaving Boston, we soon despatched; a piece of the sandal-wood I obtained, and learned that it grew on the hills in the centre of the island.  I regretted that I did not bring away other specimens; but what I had—­ the piece of sandalwood, and a small flower which I plucked and brought on board in the crown of my tarpaulin, and carefully pressed between the leaves of a volume of Cowper’s Letters—­ were lost, with my chest and its contents, by another’s negligence, on our arrival home.