A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

W.H.G. Kingston

"A Voyage round the World"

Chapter One.

My home, and how I left it.

The day arrived. A post-chaise stood in front of the old grey manor-house. I have it all before me. The pointed gables—the high-pitched, dark weather; stained roof—the numberless latticed windows—the moat, now dry, which had once served to keep out a body of Cromwell’s horse—the tall elms, which had nestled many a generation of rooks—the clump of beech trees, and the venerable wide-spreading oak—the broad gravelled court on one side, and the velvety lawn on the other, sloping away down to the fine, large, deep fish-pond, whose waters, on which I had obtained my first nautical experiences, as seen through the green foliage, were sparkling brighter than ever under the deep blue of the summer sky.

At the hall door were assembled all those I loved on earth—and dearly, too, I loved them. My mother, as good and kind a mother as ever nursed a somewhat numerous and noisy progeny; my sisters, dear, sweet, good girls; and half-a-dozen brothers, honest, generous, capital fellows; our father, too—such a father!—we always agreed that no one could come up to him. Other fellows might have very good fathers, but they were not equal to him! He could be just like one of us at cricket, or out fishing, or shooting, and yet he was always right, and there was not a finer-looking gentleman in the county, and that every one said. We were all at home for the Midsummer holidays—that is to say, we boys; our mother was not a person to let her girls go to school. Who could say that we were not met for the last time in our lives?

I was the third of the boys. Two of our sisters were older than any of us. I loved them, and they all loved me. Not that we ever talked about that; I knew it and felt it, and yet I was going to leave them by my own express wish.

I was not what is called a studious boy. I was fond of reading, and I read all the books of voyages and travels I could lay hands on, and before long began to wish to go and see with my own eyes what I had read about. My brothers were fond of shooting and fishing and rowing, and so was I; but I thought shooting tigers and lions and elephants, and fishing for whales, and sailing over the salt ocean, would be much grander work than killing partridges, catching perch, or rowing about our pond in a punt. I do not know that my imaginings and wishes, ardent as they grew, would ever have produced any definite form of action, had not an old schoolfellow of our father’s, called Captain Frankland, about a year before the day I speak of, come to our house. As soon as I knew he was coming I was very eager to see him, for I heard our father tell our mother that there was scarcely a part of the world he had not visited, and that he was looked upon as a first-rate navigator, and a most scientific seaman. He had been in the navy during the war-time, but peace came before he was made a lieutenant; and believing that he should not there find sufficient employment for his energies, he had quitted it and entered the merchant-service. While in command of a whaler, he had been far towards the north pole. He had traversed the Antarctic seas, and had often visited India and China, and the islands of the Pacific. Still, as money-making or idleness had never been his aim, and his strength was unabated, he kept at sea when many men would have sought for rest on shore. Such was the account my father gave of him.

How eagerly I waited for his coming! He had chosen the holidays on purpose that he might see our father’s young tribe, he wrote him word. He was the very sort of person I longed to talk to; still it was with no little awe that I thought of actually breakfasting, and dining, and speaking day after day with one who had seen so much of the world, and met with so many adventures. At last he arrived. I was not disappointed in his appearance. He was a tall, thin, spare man, all bone and muscle. His hair was almost white, and his features, which were not a little weather-beaten, had, I thought, a most pleasant expression. While, however, my brothers ran eagerly forward to meet him, I hung back, watching him at a distance, like a bashful child. Had he been one of England’s greatest heroes, I could not have looked at him with greater respect. “And that is the man,” I thought, “who has sailed over thousands and thousands of miles of water, and has seen Indians dressed in feathers and shells, and negroes running wild in their native woods, and Hottentots, and Esquimaux, and Chinese, and I do not know what other strange people!” I saw my father look round for me, so at last I went forward in time to be presented in my turn with the rest of my brothers. Very soon the feeling of awe wore off, and I became the most constant of his attendants wherever he wished to go. With the greatest eagerness I used to listen to the accounts he gave our father of his various adventures in the distant countries he had visited. My brothers listened also; but while they would at length betake themselves to other occupations, I remained his ever-attentive auditor. The interest I exhibited in what he was saying attracted his attention, and much pleased him, so that when I ventured to ask him questions, he both answered them willingly and encouraged me to ask more. Thus we before long became very great friends.

“Should you like to go to sea, Harry?” said he to me one day, when he had begun to talk of taking his departure.

“With you, sir, indeed I should; there’s nothing in the world I should like so much,” I answered. The tone of my voice and the expression of my countenance showed him how much I was in earnest.

“Very well, my boy. You are rather young just yet to rough it at sea, and you will be the better for another year’s schooling; but when I come back from my next voyage, if you are in the same mind, and your father is willing to let you go, I will take you to sea with me. I’ll talk to him about it if I have an opportunity.”

“Thank you, sir—thank you!” I exclaimed, almost choking with the vehemence of my feelings; “it is what I have been longing for above all things. Do, pray, tell my father, or he may suppose it is only a passing fancy of mine, and may wish me to go into some other profession. Still, he’ll let me go with you—I know he will.”

Captain Frankland smiled at my eagerness, but he said not a word to dissuade me from my wish. Perhaps he remembered his own feelings at my age. Grown-up people are apt to forget how they thought and felt when they were boys, which is the reason so few men win the confidence of the young and manage them properly. The captain, on the contrary, seemed to understand me thoroughly, and thus gained a complete influence over me.

“I’ll be ready to go when you come back,” I added.

“Don’t be too sure of yourself, Harry,” he answered. “I’ve seen many people completely change their opinions in a year’s time, and I shall not be absent less than that. If you remain constant to your wish, remember my promise; but if your fancy changes, you are free to follow it as far as I am concerned.”

I thanked Captain Frankland over and over again for his kindness, and certainly did not think that there was a possibility of my changing my inclinations. So he went away, much to my regret, and I fancied that he had not mentioned our conversation to my father. We all returned to school, except our eldest brother, who went to college. I no longer enjoyed school as I once did—I was looked upon as having become very idle. My mind, however, was not idle, I know, for I was continually thinking over the idea which had got possession of it. By allowing my thoughts to rest on that idea, and that alone, the desire increased till I persuaded myself that the only life I could possibly lead with satisfaction was that of a life at sea. All this time the curious thing was, that of the sea itself I practically knew nothing. Born and bred in an inland county, my eyes had actually never rested on the wide ocean. Still, I had formed a notion of what it was like; and I fancied that a sailor was always wandering about from one wild country to another, and going through a rapid succession of wonderful adventures. I forgot all about those long voyages when ships are weeks and weeks together out of sight of land, and the many weary and often anxious hours which a seaman has to pass away; nor did I consider that he has frequently the same voyage to make over and over again, the same lands to visit, and the same people to see. However, though I looked with no little pleasure on the idea of becoming a sailor, I had still greater satisfaction in the anticipation of visiting strange and far-distant lands, in meeting with adventures, and in becoming acquainted with the various tribes of the human race.

With the absorbing passion which now possessed me ruling every thought, I could no longer properly fix my attention on my Latin and Greek books and usual school-lessons; and as for nonsense, and even sense verses, I abandoned all attempts at making them. I am ashamed to say that I allowed others to do the work which passed as mine; and even though I managed to present the required written exercises, I was constantly in richly-deserved disgrace for the neglect of those tasks which no one else could perform for me. I was decidedly wrong; I ought to have had the right feeling and manliness to perform to the best of my power those lessons which it was the master’s duty to set me, and then I might with a clear conscience have indulged freely in my own peculiar tastes. As it was, when the Christmas holidays arrived, I was sent home with a letter from the master containing severe complaints of my inattention and negligence of my duties, while my brothers were complimented on the progress they had made in their studies. The master told me he should write, but our father received us all in the same affectionate way; and as he said nothing on the matter, I hoped that he was not going to take notice of it.

The first joyous days of getting home had passed over, and New-Year’s Day come and gone, before he broached the subject. From his love and kind heart, he would not before mar my boyish happiness. He then, summoning me into his study, spoke seriously to me about my past conduct. I frankly owned my fault, and confessed to him the true cause of my idleness. From his answer I found, to my very great satisfaction, that Captain Frankland had already talked to him about my wish to go to sea, and had expressed his readiness to take me.

“I cannot, however, allow you, my dear Harry, to leave school under the present circumstances,” said my father. “You must learn to obey your superiors, and to command yourself, before you will be fit to go into the world. Whatever course of life you pursue, you will have many things to do which you will dislike, or in which you may from inclination take no interest; but this will afford you but a poor excuse for not doing your duty. What do you think the captain of a ship would say to an officer who had not obeyed his orders, should the latter remark to him, ‘Really, sir, I felt so little interest in the matter, or I disliked it so very much, that I could not bring myself to perform the work?’ Yet this is what you have been doing, my boy. I will say no more on the subject. You will go back to school at the end of the holidays; and if I find that, from a sense of duty, you are attending, to the best of your power, to the studies your master may select for you, I will take your wishes into my very earnest consideration, and see how I can best carry them out for your advantage.”

I felt how just, and kind, and considerate my father was, and I resolved to the utmost to follow his advice. I shall never forget those Christmas holidays. They were very, very happy ones. Our eldest brother Jack, who was at college, was a very clever fellow, and put us up to all sorts of fun. In doors and out of doors there was nothing he did not think of. He never bullied, and wasn’t a bit spoiled. He was going to study at the bar, that he might better look after the family property. James, the next, was the quiet one; he was preparing for the Church. Then came our third sister, Mary. Julia and Isabella were older than any of us. Mary was my favourite. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me—or, for that matter, for any of us. She did not like baiting our hooks when we were fishing, but still she did it when we asked her; and I do really believe that the worms didn’t feel half the pain they otherwise would when handled by her fingers. She’d go out with us rat-catching and badger-hunting, and yet, to see her in the drawing-room, there wasn’t a sweeter, softer, more feminine girl in the county. When we were at school, she wrote us twice as many letters as anybody else, and told us how the pony and the dogs were getting on; and how old Martin had found a wasp’s nest, which he was keeping for us to blow up—and all that sort of thing. Willie and Georgie were at school with me, and Herbert was going the next half, and after him were two more girls, so that Mary had no companions of her own age, and that made her, I suppose, stick so much more to us than the older ones did, who were now young ladies—old enough to go to balls, and to talk when any gentlemen called.

I cannot stop to describe our amusements. I went to school with a more hopeful, manly spirit than I ever did before, and to the astonishment of Dr Summers, set to with a will at everything he gave me to do, and before long was nearly up at the head of my class. I wished to please my father, and to follow his advice, that I am sure of; but I confess that I was powerfully influenced by another motive. From what he had said, I saw that this was the surest way of obtaining the accomplishment of my wishes.

Hoops and driving had gone out, and cricket and marbles were in, and the days were getting long and warm, when I received a letter from Mary, saying that Captain Frankland had come home, and had written to our father, but she did not know what had passed between them. I always told Mary all I thought and wished; and though she cried very much at the thoughts of my going away, yet she promised to help me as best she could. How she was to help, I did not exactly know. I tried to console her by promising to bring her back parrots without end from Africa, and shawls from India, and fans and carved ivory bones from China, and poisoned arrows, and darts, and tomahawks, and all sorts of dreadful weapons, from America and the islands of the Pacific. Indeed, had I fulfilled my promises to the letter, I could pretty well have loaded a ship with my intended gifts. My father said nothing, and we all went home together at the usual time. At the end of this half, a very complimentary letter had preceded me.

“I am glad to hear that Dr Summers is pleased with you, my dear boy,” said my father, and I thought his countenance wore a graver expression than usual. “Tell me, are your wishes the same as when you last left home?”

I replied that I was as anxious as ever to go to sea.

“I will not, then, thwart your inclination, Harry,” he answered. “Your mother and I would rather you had selected a profession which would have kept you nearer to us. But you have chosen a fine line of life, and may Heaven protect you in your career! I should have been glad, for some reasons, to have had the power of sending you into the Royal Navy; but I have no interest to get you in, and still less any to advance you in it. The merchant-service should not be looked on as less noble and less creditable a profession. It is one of the chief means by which England’s greatness and prosperity is maintained. In it your progress and success will depend almost entirely on your own exertions. You must also so conduct yourself that you may sustain to the utmost the credit of the service, and, I doubt not, you will have no cause to regret entering it. I might have wished to keep you longer at home, but I am unwilling to miss the opportunity of sending you to sea under charge of a commander of the high character and attainments possessed by Captain Frankland. He, in the kindest way, tells me that he is ready to take you; and he also informs me that a relative of mine is one of the officers appointed to his ship, Silas Brand by name. You have heard as speak of my good Cousin Martha, Mrs Brand; Silas is her only son. He was a steady, good lad when I last heard of him before he went to sea, and I daresay that you will find him a firm friend. At all events, I am sure, from Captain Frankland’s remarks, that he will prove a profitable one. He tells me also that his proposed voyage will be one of very great interest; that the owners of the ship have a variety of objects in view; so that he expects to visit a number of interesting places during the voyage, which is, in fact, to be completely round the world.”

“Round the World!” I exclaimed. “How delightful! And am I actually going to sail all round the world in my first voyage? Well, I did not expect anything so good as that. Isn’t it a first-rate chance, papa?”

“It may be very long before you return, my boy,” replied my father. “I trust, however, that you will proportionately profit by the voyage. Captain Frankland says, that he hopes to make you something of a seaman before you return. You will, I trust, make the best use of his instructions.”

I promised that I would, and sincerely intended to keep my promise. So it was finally settled that I was to go to sea, and few lads were ever sent afloat under better auspices than I enjoyed. I cannot fully describe the agitating sensations which passed through my bosom when I began to reflect on the approaching consummation of my wishes. While my heart beat with anticipated pleasure at the strange sights I was to behold, I could not but contemplate with sorrow the thoughts of leaving so many dear ones behind. Not that I for a moment hesitated what I would do, but the sharp edge of the enjoyment I might have felt was entirely blunted. Still, I went about talking with a keen relish of all I was to see, and what I was to do, while the preparations for my outfit were in progress; and I not a little excited the envy of my younger brothers, and of some of the boys near us, when they heard that I was starting on a voyage round the world.

At last the chest was packed, and lashed on behind the post-chaise. A few minutes more, and the old home which knew me would know me no more for many a long day. Can I describe that parting? Still, all bore up heroically. I did my best not to give way, but there was a hot, choking sensation in my throat, as if a Thug from India had got his fatal noose tight round my jugular vein; and a pulling away at the heart, as if the fangs of a stout double tooth were firmly clenched in it, and a strong-fisted dentist was hauling it out. My father and Jack were going with me to see me on board. I believe Jack envied me, and wished that he was going too, instead of having to pore over dusty parchments. My mother folded me in her arms, and kept me there. That was the worst. Still, I could not bear to break away.

“Come, Harry,” said my father, “we shall miss the train.” He took me gently by the shoulder, and guided me into the carriage. I took a last kiss from Mary’s dear lips as I passed her. “I shall be back to-morrow evening, I hope,” said he, following me.

“I say, Harry, don’t forget the bows and arrows you are to bring me from the Tonga Islands!” sung out Willie.

“Or the hunting-panther from South America!” cried Georgie.

“Or the parrots from Africa!” exclaimed Mary through her tears.

“Or the love-birds from India!” said Julia.

“Or my ivory fan from China, young sailor boy!” said Isabella.

“Don’t forget the journal you are to keep, or the subjects I asked you to note for me!” exclaimed the studious James.

Thus, amid various shouts and exclamations of a similar character, the moment Jack mounted on the box we drove off towards the nearest station on the railway which was to convey us to Liverpool. My father said nothing for some time, and I felt that I could not utter a word without allowing my feelings to get the better of me. However, by the time we reached the station, I had much recovered my spirits; and when once we were in the railway, Jack had so much to talk about, and cut so many jokes, that I became very happy, as he did not leave me a moment to think about the dear home I had left. I have often since thought, when I have seen people grumbling at home, or finding fault or quarrelling with their brothers and sisters or parents, let them go away and get knocked and kicked about the world, and they will have good reason to value their own quiet home as they ought.

I thought Liverpool a very fine city, with its large public buildings, and its broad streets, and its churches, and its Sailors’ Home, which I visited, where sailors have a large smoking-hall, and dining-rooms, and a lecture-room, and a chapel, and where some hundreds may each have a little separate cabin to himself. I wish every port in the world, much frequented by shipping, had a place of a similar character. Most of all, I was struck with the docks, crowded with ships of great size, and, indeed, craft of every description and nation; as also with its wide quays and wharfs, and floating landing-stages, and steamers dashing in and out, and running up and down the river in such a hurry, that they looked as if they were conscious that they had to struggle for their existence among the struggling human multitude of the place. We inquired for the Triton.

“There she is, with the blue Peter flying at the fore! She sails to-night, don’t she, Tom?” said a waterman whom we addressed. “Do you want a boat, gintlemen?”

My father said, “Yes;” and agreed with the man as to his fare.

We stepped into his boat, and away we pulled towards my future home—the good ship Triton. I had never seen a ship before, it must be remembered. I had looked at pictures of them, so I was acquainted with their shape; but I had formed no adequate idea of the size of a large ship; and as the boat lay alongside of the Triton, and I looked up and saw one of the officers standing at the gangway to receive us, it appeared something like scaling the walls of a castle to climb up to the deck. What should I have thought had the Triton been a hundred and twenty gun-ship, instead of a merchantman of 500 tons, for such was her size! However, I then thought her a magnificent ship; she was indeed a very fine one for her size. Side ropes being rigged, we soon gained her deck. The captain was still on shore, but my father at once made out Silas Brand. He was a shortish, rather thick-set, fair man, with a roundish face and a somewhat florid complexion. He had light hair, with largish whiskers, and he shaved his chin in harbour. I had to look at him frequently, and to talk to him more than once, before I discovered that his countenance showed much firmness and decision, and that his smile betokened more than a good-natured, easy disposition. My father had a good deal of talk with him, while Jack and I went round to see the ship. In the course of our peregrinations, we entered what I found was the captain’s cabin. A lad of about my own age was sitting at a table, with a book and slate before him. He turned round when the door opened, and eyed me narrowly before he got up from his chair. Then, apparently recollecting himself, he advanced towards us.

“Are you the new youngster who is to sail with us?” said he, putting out his hand. “My name is Gerard Frankland, though it is seldom people take the trouble of calling me more than Jerry. My father told me to expect you. I’m to look after you, and see you don’t get into mischief, I suppose. I’ll be very strict with you, mind that!”

Amused with his free and easy way, I told him that he was not mistaken as to my identity.

“That’s all right then,” he answered. “This gentleman is your brother. Take a seat, sir, and make yourself at home. You’ll have something? When my father is on shore, I reign here supreme, though on deck, to be sure, I can’t boast much of my authority. Steward, bring glasses, and biscuits, and anything else! You’re not going with us, sir? I wish you were. We’ll have rare fun before we come back, I’ll warrant.”

“No,” answered Jack, laughing, and highly diverted with Master Jerry’s volubility and perfect self-possession. “I should much like to take the trip though. However, my brother Harry will, I hope, on your return, give us a full account of all you see and do.”

“He’ll have plenty to tell then of what we do, and not a little of what we see,” answered Jerry, with a sort of a half wink at me, which was as much as to say, “We’ll be up to all sorts of things.” He added aloud, “My father is not the man to let the grass grow under the ship’s bottom; but here come the glasses! What will you have—hot or cold?”

“Thank you,” said Jack; “our father is here, and we must not stop. We came to see Harry on board, and have soon to return on shore.” While he was speaking, our father appeared at the door, accompanied by Silas Brand.

Gerard’s whole manner changed the moment he saw them. He got up to receive my father with perfect politeness; and, instead of exhibiting the forward, flippant manner with which he had treated us, he turned at once into a steady-looking, somewhat demure boy. My father, after addressing a few kind words to him, and telling him that he was his father’s oldest friend, signed to me that he wished to speak to me alone. He took me into Silas Brand’s cabin, and kneeling down, offered up a few prayers, full of deep, deep love, for my preservation from all earthly dangers, and for my acceptance as a forgiven sinner at the day of judgment.

“Look straight on beyond this transient world in all you think, or try, or do. Remember, delightful as this existence may appear, and undoubtedly is to those who know how to employ it properly, it is but a passage which leads to eternity. May Heaven guide you, my boy!” He took me in his arms, and then I knew how his fond, tender heart felt the parting. He burst into tears: he was not long in recovering himself.

Captain Frankland came on board. Last farewells were said. My dear father and Jack went down the ship’s side. The pilot remarked that the tide would suit. The anchor was hove up. A steamer took us in tow; then, after pulling ahead of us for a couple of hours or more, she cast off. All sail was set, and free of the Mersey’s mouth, away we glided on our voyage Round the World.

Chapter Two.

The voyage commenced.

The Triton was a well-found, well-officered, and well-manned ship. Still, on first getting to sea, there appeared to be a considerable amount of disorder, and the crew were incessantly employed in stowing away the last stores which had come on board, and in getting everything into its right place. This gave me a feeling that I was not in my right place, for no one had a moment to attend to me, and to tell me what to do; and had it not been for Gerard, I should have felt not a little miserable. He was as active as any one, and seemed to be thoroughly up to his duty. He did, however, find time to speak to me.

“I’ll tell you what to do, Harry,” said he; “just keep out of the way, and look on. You’ll learn more in that manner just now than in any other. You’ll have plenty of time to get up your seamanship by-and-by.”

I followed his advice to great advantage. The first manoeuvre I saw performed on board was when, having got clear of all the shoals and dangers at the mouth of the Mersey, we shortened sail to allow the pilot to enter his boat, and the last person we were to see for many a day connected with home took his departure. He shook hands with the captain and mates, and wished us a good voyage and speedy return. I watched the boat as it proceeded towards the pilot-cutter with a curious feeling of interest. I was aroused by Gerard, who

asked me why I was so sentimental. He saw nothing in a pilot-boat leaving the ship. The last I saw of our native land were the lofty cliffs of Wales. I came on deck early in the morning; and, as I looked out aft, they appeared receding fast on the larboard-quarter, across the bright blue sea. Turning round, my somewhat bewildered glance next wandered upwards, and there I beheld, with unrestrained admiration, the wide spread of white canvas which hung extended on the yards, high, high up in the blue sky, like a vast mass of snowy cloud. It looked to me as if there was enough sail to fly away with the whole ship and her cargo; for, the breeze being light and fair, we had all our courses, and topsails, and topgallant-sails, and royals set with studding-sails also on either side, almost sweeping the sparkling waters which danced off from the Triton’s sharp bows as she clove her stately yet rapid way through the ocean. Captain Frankland was anxious to take every advantage of the favourable wind, that we might get a good distance from the land, and thus not run the chance of being driven back again, and be compelled, as is often the case with outward-bound ships, to take shelter in that magnificent harbour—Milford Haven, or in the still more lovely one of Queenstown, on the Irish coast. Away we flew, every day going faster and faster as the breeze freshened.

“Not a brace, nor a tack, nor a sheet did we slack” on board of the gallant Triton for a whole week; and then it fell calm, and we lay washing our sides up to the scuppers in the pure waters of the Atlantic. During this time everything was got to rights, and I began to find my way about every part of the ship, and to learn the names of the spars, and ropes, and sails. Gerard very soon dared me to go aloft; of course I was nothing loath.

“Follow me, then, youngster!” said he; and with a wicked look, up he went the main rigging. I ascended readily enough, intending to go through the lubbers’ hole, as the opening in the top is called through which the lower shrouds lead. This way is quite allowable for a landsman; but Jerry, having no fear of my breaking my neck before his eyes, led the way by the futtock-shroud; and, as he quickly stood up in the top, I saw his face grinning over me while I hung with my back over the ocean, very doubtful whether I could climb round so as to get hold of the topmast-shrouds.

“Don’t let your feet go till you have got a firm grip of this rope here,” said he, touching the shroud. I clutched hold of it: then up I slipped my other hand, and, drawing up my knees, soon had them on the combing of the top, and found myself standing alongside my companion. I should have liked to have stopped to take breath and look about me; but, before I could utter a word, he was off again, up the topmast-rigging, with the agility of a monkey, and laughingly sung out to me to join him on the cross-trees. I thought he would surely rest there, but away he was again, nor did he stop till he had got hold of the main-truck; and, as he clung on with his chin over it, he took off his cap and waved it round his head. My blood was warmed with the exercise and the excitement, and I was close after him. The moment he was down I took his place, and did the same thing; but I had to be quick in following him, not to miss the way he was leading. Down he slid by the main-topmast-stay, and in an instant more he was climbing the fore-topmast rigging. He waited for me, however, and waved me on. I did not remark that two seamen, the oldest hands on board, were at the same time deliberately mounting the fore-shrouds. Just as I reached the fore-topmast cross-trees, they were up to me.

“You han’t paid your footing up here, young master,” said one, old Ben Yool by name. He spoke in a gruff voice, as if he had not a soft particle in his whole composition.

“You know what that means, master?” added the other, Charlie Cockle, as he was called, imitating him.

“I don’t know what you want, but I know that you are two to one, which isn’t fair, at all events; and, do you see, I am not accustomed to give in to threats,” said I, and endeavoured to climb away from them, not knowing exactly where I was going.

The midge caught in a web might as well attempt to escape from a hungry spider. They caught me in a moment; and, without further ceremony, stretching out my arms and legs, lashed them to the topmast-rigging, making what is called a spread eagle of me. It was very humiliating, though my position was thus exalted, and very unromantic; and the rogue Jerry aggravated my feelings by pretending to pity me, though I guessed even then that he had arranged the plan beforehand with Yool and Cockle thus to entrap me. The seamen had descended towards the deck, leaving me bound in this ignominious manner. Jerry came and placed himself in the rigging opposite to me.

“It must be very unpleasant!” quoth he. “I wonder what they would say if I was to let you loose?”

“I wish you would,” I answered. “It’s a great shame, and I don’t like it.”

“But I dare not,” he replied, putting on a pretended serious face, though he could not hide the twinkle of his laughing eyes; “they are such precious fierce fellows. But don’t you think that you might buy yourself off? I’ll see if I can arrange the matter with them.”

I saw that there would be no use contending against my tormentor, and I was more hurt than I choose to acknowledge; so I wisely agreed to pay any moderate sum to be released. The arrangement was soon made; and Yool and Cockle, having unlashed my limbs, begged my pardon, and complimented me on the daring and agility I had displayed on this my first climb aloft.

This adventure, as I took the treatment I received good humouredly, made me capital friends with all the seamen, and I found that there were not kinder-hearted or better men on board than Yool and Cockle. I observed that Jerry took the opportunity when his father was below to play off the tricks imagined by his fertile brain, though he was sometimes discovered and reprimanded; but he put on so penitent an expression, and had such comical excuses to offer, that Captain Frankland saw that it would be worse than useless to punish him. Indeed, punishment would scarcely have corrected such faults as he had. Gerard, from being small, and having delicate features, though they were full of rich humour, looked younger than I did; but he was in reality older, and had much more experience of the world. His constitution was considered delicate, which was the reason his father took him to sea at first; but now he liked the life so much, he told me, that he had resolved to follow it as a profession. We both of us slept in a cabin which we had to ourselves, near the captain’s. Gerard was learning navigation; and Captain Frankland told me that I must study hard to catch him up, so that we might work together. He superintended our studies; but Silas Brand was our chief master, and somehow or other, in his quiet way, he managed to impart a considerable amount of information in a pleasant and rapid manner. It appeared to me that he always said the right thing at the right time, so as to impress it on the memory. Our first officer, John Renshaw, was a very worthy man, but totally unlike my Cousin Silas. He was tall and thin, and had a long weather-beaten, rather melancholy-looking face. Not that he was melancholy; the form of his features made him look so. It is better, however, to look melancholy than to have facetious features, which always appear to be on a broad grin. A strong contrast to both of them was found in our third officer, Samuel Melgrove. He was a man with strongly-marked, rather coarse features, with red hair and complexion. One might have expected to hear only the roughest tones come out of such a mouth as he possessed; but, instead, he spoke in a soft, somewhat mincing manner, and prided himself on his gentlemanly style and volubility. He could, however, speak loud and rough enough in case of necessity. If called on suddenly to shorten sail, no one could make himself better heard. The mates on board a merchantman have the same sort of duty as the lieutenants of a man-of-war, with the addition of having to attend to the stowing of the cargo and stores. We had also a surgeon, who was a good naturalist and a very scientific man—Mr David McRitchie. He evidently at first looked with very grave suspicion on Gerard and me, as if we were only waiting our opportunity to play him some trick; and when he left his cabin he always locked the door, lest we should get in and do some mischief; but such an idea was, I must say, very far from my thoughts, and even Gerard respected him too much to wish to annoy him. How to convince him of this seemed a difficulty. Gerard undertook to assure him.

“Mr McRitchie,” said he one day abruptly to him, “I daresay that you think me a young jackanapes, whose only thought is how he can do most harm in the world. Now, sir, you are mistaken; all I want is that you will impart some of your knowledge to Harry and me; but, understand, whether you do that or not, Harry and I will make it a point of honour not to do you any injury by word, look, or deed.”

“Oh, I never— Well, well, you are good boys, and I perfectly trust you,” stuttered out the doctor, completely taken by surprise. “I shall be glad, too, to give you all the information in my power; and I hope, in the course of the voyage, we may have many interesting subjects to see and talk about.” I was sure that Mr McRitchie would faithfully keep his word.

We had three other somewhat important personages on board who were characters in their way—Richard Fleming the boatswain, James Pincott the carpenter, and Thomas Veal the captain’s steward. They each had their peculiarities; but I will not stop now to describe them. We had twenty men forward, all picked hands; for, with the long voyage we contemplated, and the service we were on, it was necessary to be strongly manned. I must not omit a description of the Triton herself. She had a raised poop, beneath which were situated the chief cabins, and a forecastle, under which the crew lived in two compartments, one on either side of it. There was also a caboose, or galley, with a great cooking-range, and, indeed, every convenience the men could desire. We carried eight guns—9-pounders—for we were going into seas where it would be necessary to be well-armed, and constantly on our guard against treachery; and we were also amply supplied with boats, which, I may remark, were always kept in good order, and ready for instant use. I was surprised one day during a calm, before we had been long at sea, to hear the order given to lower boats when there was no ship in sight, and apparently no reason for it. So were those of the crew who had not before sailed with Captain Frankland. They, however, flew to obey the order, and, in a short time, three boats were manned and in the water. They were then hoisted in again, and stowed.

“Very well,” said the captain, holding his watch in his hand. “Smartly done, my lads; but another time, I think, we may do it still quicker.”

Some of the men, of course, grumbled, as I have found out that some people will grumble when any new system is introduced, the object of which they do not understand. The loudest grumbler at anything new introduced on board was old Fleming the boatswain. He called himself a Conservative, or, rather, a Tory, and strongly opposed all change.

“None of your newfangled notions for me,” he used to observe; “I like things as they were. Do you think our fathers would have all along been satisfied with them if they hadn’t been good? I look upon it as disrespectful to their memory to wish to have them changed, as if we thought ourselves so much wiser and better than they were.”

Gerard and I were fond of going forward to the forecastle, where, in fine weather, in an evening, he always took his seat with his pipe in his mouth.

“By the same rule it was wrong to introduce the compass or the steam-engine; former generations had done very well without them; yet how should we, on a dark night, have managed to steer across the ocean as we do, or how could people manage to get about the world as rapidly as they find necessary for their business or pleasure?”

Gerard thought that this remark would be a poser for the boatswain; but old Fleming was not so easily defeated.

“As to the matter of the compass, do you see, that’s what I call an exception to the general rule,” he answered, with a serious look. “But as for the railways and steam-engines, and all those sort of things afloat or ashore, to my mind the world would be altogether much better without them. It’s necessary for sailors to go about, that’s granted; but the rest of the world would be very much better staying at home and minding their own business. What I preach I practise; and when I leaves home I says to my missus, says I, ‘Now mind, Molly, don’t you be going gadding about till I comes back to look after you;’ and she’d no more think of going outside the street-door, except when she goes to church or a-marketing, than she’d try to fly, and that would be no easy matter for her, seeing that she weighs thirteen stone at least.”

Such is a specimen of old Fleming’s style of conversation. Gerard and I used to be much amused while listening to him, though we did not fail to make the most of his remarks while repeating them to the mates. James Pincott the carpenter, on the contrary, was a great reformer. No invention was too new to suit his taste. Whenever he heard of any discovery, he could not be contented till he saw it introduced. We often tried to get the two together, and very soon managed to throw an apple of discord between them. Pincott occupied much of his thoughts about a flying-machine, which no failure had taught him to believe could not be made to work.

“I’ll tell you what, mate, there’s just this difference between you and me in this matter,” I heard Fleming remark; “you says a flying-machine can be made; so do I. You may make fifty flying-machines, or a hundred, or five hundred for that matter, all different, and with all sorts of wheels, and cogs, and what not, which nobody can understand; but when they are made, what I have to ask you, mate, is, will they fly? It’s there you and I differ.”

Having thus delivered himself, Fleming drew himself up with a triumphant look at his adversary. Now, Pincott was a very quiet man with all his eccentricities, so he merely answered—

“It will be enough for me if one can be made to fly. That’s all I argue for.”

“It never has been done yet, and, to my mind, never will,” answered Fleming, sturdily; “though I have heard of a man who made his son put on a pair of wings which he had fabricated, and shoved him off the top of a high wall, and when the lad, as was to be expected, reached the ground, he broke his leg.”

This was a story told of Pincott, who, however, on all occasions stoutly denied that he was the culprit. Another story against Pincott was, that when first iron vessels were introduced, he declared that it was impossible they could swim. “No, no,” it was said he said, “birds can fly, so I don’t see why men shouldn’t; but iron always has sunk, and, to my mind, it always will sink.” Fleming, who told the story, used to wind up with the remark, “But then you see, mate, there’s no rule without an exception.” As these disputes never led to any disagreeable consequences, they served to beguile away many a weary hour at sea. But I have said enough to describe the character of our inferior officers. They were both thoroughly good seamen and steady men.

We had hitherto had little else than sunshine and light winds, so that my introduction to a sea life was most favourable. Gloriously rose the sun over the blue sparkling waters, when, on coming on deck, I found the ship steering south-west, and standing in for the Bay of Funchal in the lofty island of Madeira. On one side of us were the Desertas—rocks which Gerard told me gravely were so-called because they had once belonged to the mainland, and were now making the best of their way off to Africa; but the doctor differed with him, and observed that they obtained their name from being desert or barren rocks, especially compared with the fertile island near which they are placed. Lovely as is the interior of our dear old country, few parts of its shores are attractive; and as this was the first land we had made after leaving home, it seemed doubly beautiful. It appeared, as it rose before us, like one vast mountain extending from east to west, with a bay in the centre, and covered in the richest profusion with beautiful trees of many different sorts, among which, I afterwards found, are the cedar, chestnut, orange, lemon, fig, citron, the vine, the olive, the mulberry, banana, and pomegranate, while generous nature sprinkles with no lavish hand the myrtle, the geranium, the rose, and the violet in every open space. The geranium especially grows in vast quantities; its scent is most powerful, and the honey which we got in the island was strongly flavoured with it. But I forgot; we are not on shore yet. How bright, and beautiful, and rich, and fertile, and romantic everything looked! What charming white-washed cottages! What lovely villas, surrounded by gardens filled with flowers of every hue! What a pretty town stretching away round the shores of the bay! How clean, and neat, and comfortable all the dwellings! and how grand the churches and public buildings. Gerard and I agreed that we should like to come back there some day after we had done our wanderings, and take up our abode for the rest of our days.

“Stay till you have been on shore and seen the inside as well as the outside of things,” observed Cousin Silas, who had overheard us. We thought he was in what we used to call one of his grumpy humours, and did not heed him. We sailed on, and dropped our anchor opposite to the city of Funchal. A health-boat came off, but as no one was sick on board, the people in her did not trouble us much. When she went away, we were surrounded with other boats pulled by swarthy, muscular, little men with gay caps and sashes, and white shirt sleeves, who bawled, and hallooed, and jabbered, in the vain hope of making us comprehend what they said. We shouted and hallooed in return, as if each party were deaf; and it was not till after a considerable expenditure of breath, that we discovered that we did not understand a word of each other’s language; so at last we took to making signs, by which means we got on much better. There was no great difficulty in this, as they had an abundance of fruit to sell, which we were equally anxious to buy.

The captain had, I found, touched here chiefly to get a supply of fruit, vegetables, fresh meat, and water, as he knew that the health of a crew is maintained without difficulty when there is an abundance of these necessaries. He had also another reason for coming here. It was to obtain information, which the Portuguese authorities were able to supply, regarding certain places he proposed visiting. As, however, the whole plan of our proceedings was to be kept secret, I will not touch on that subject. Gerard and I were all anxiety to go on shore, so the captain gave us leave to accompany Mr Brand, with strict charges to him to keep us out of mischief. “Not an easy job!” muttered Silas, preparing to accompany us into a boat. For the first time in my life I stood on foreign soil, and very soon I was undeceived as to the cleanliness, and comfort, and beauty of the habitations; and many a house which looked so very picturesque at a distance was found, on a nearer inspection, to be a very dirty domicile. Still the views from them were beautiful. Nature has done everything; it is graceless man who is in fault that all is not in accordance with it. At the corner of one of the streets we saw a number of horses, and mules, and donkeys, standing together with their attendant drivers—arrieros.

“Wouldn’t you like a ride, Mr Brand?” exclaimed Gerard, looking towards them. He had not to look twice before the whole posse commitatus of men and boys rushed forward, and seizing us vi et armis, carried us off in triumph towards their sorry-looking beasts. Which party would have us seemed a question. Who ever heard of sailors who didn’t want to ride? Ride we must; but as there were thirty or more beasts, and only three of us, it was difficult to say which of them should have the honour of carrying us. The arrieros got one of Cousin Silas’s legs put on the back of a horse, and another on that of a mule, while a little wicked donkey began kicking and plunging directly under him. At last he sprang on to the back of the horse, and Gerard and I found ourselves somehow or other on the saddles of two mules, when their respective owners, catching hold of their long tails, and giving them a prong with their iron-pointed sticks, away we started from out of the crowd, who all hallooed and shouted after us, till we had shot some way up one of the steep rocky heights over which the bridle-paths of the island lead. “Arra burra—arra, arra, arra!” sung out the crowd. “Arra, arra, arra!” repeated our arrieros, goading the unfortunate animals with their sticks—“Arra, sish, sish!” It is hopeless to imitate the sounds emitted by our drivers. Up we shot like pellets from popguns, through the narrow rock-strewn gorges which are called roads. Up, up, up the animals scrambled. They seemed to enjoy the fun, or, perhaps, wiser than men, they felt a pleasure in performing their daily duty. We, too, enjoyed the magnificent views we got over vineyards, and fields, and orange-groves, and olive-plantations, with often deep precipices below us, and the blue sparkling sea in the distance. We passed several buildings, once convents and nunneries; but when the constitutional government was established in Portugal, the monks were turned out of their habitations to gain an honest livelihood as best they could, though the nuns were in some instances allowed to remain in their abodes, on condition of their admitting no fresh novices. Thus, by this time the greater number of professed nuns are old women. They employ themselves in fabricating artificial flowers of shells and feathers, baskets and ornaments of various sorts, as well as in making dried fruits and sweetmeats. As Cousin Silas observed, it might have appeared hard to turn the poor monks adrift in the world; but as ill weeds grow apace, it was necessary to eradicate them, lest a fresh crop should spring up where they had for so long taken root.

We dined with an English merchant, an old friend of Captain Frankland’s, who treated us most sumptuously. He told us of a curious disease which had lately attacked the vines, and which he feared would ultimately destroy them. The grapes growing on the diseased vines, instead of ripening, wither up and rot. He said that he had urged the inhabitants of the island not to depend solely on their vines, but to endeavour to produce other articles for which their soil and climate was especially suited. Among other things he introduced the mulberry-tree, by the cultivation of which large numbers of the silk-worm might be bred, and silk in great quantities exported. Under the present system, when the vines fail, as the people do not grow sufficient corn in the island for their support, they are at once reduced to a state of famine. But I must not prolong my description of Madeira. It is a very lovely island, and has a very delicious climate, and produces all sorts of nice fruits; and though the inhabitants have rather a fancy for being dirty, the English residents set them a better example, and have introduced comforts and conveniences which make the country a very pleasant abode. The island is about thirty-seven miles in length by eleven in breadth, and contains perhaps 60,000 inhabitants.

Again sail was made on the ship, and away we glided over the smooth ocean with a north-easterly breeze, passing within two miles of the island of Palma, one of the Canaries, or Fortunate Islands, which belong to Spain. The appearance, as we eyed it from the ship, was most attractive; but Silas, who had been on shore there, told us that through the misgovernment of the upper classes, and the slothfulness of the lower, the land does not produce nearly what it might be made to do, while the people remain in a poor and backward condition. Before sunset the same day we saw the island of Ferro, the most western of the group. Before the discovery of America, this was looked on as the extreme western limits of the habitable world, and till very lately some navigators calculated their first meridian from thence. There are thirteen islands in the group, which produce corn, silk, tobacco, sugar, and the wine which was so long known under their name. We caught about here the regular north-east trade-wind; away we went before it as steadily and majestically as a swan glides over his native lake. I hope every reader of my adventures will look at the map, and see whereabouts the places I mention are situated, or they will find some difficulty in clearly comprehending my descriptions.

We had, I thought, been a long time at sea without meeting with anything very amusing.

“I say, Jerry, when are we to fall in with all the wonderful adventures you told me of?” I asked one day, as we were walking the deck together.

“You would meet with plenty of wonders if you would but keep your eyes open to see them,” observed Cousin Silas, who overheard my observation. The reply, however, did not quite satisfy me; nothing like a gale or bad weather had occurred, and I began to suspect that we had already had a sample of the sort of life we were always to undergo at sea.

“Hillo!” exclaimed Jerry soon after this, “what has come over the air, I wonder? Why, we have got into a regular red fog. What has caused it, Mr Brand; can you tell me?”

“No, indeed, I cannot,” answered Silas. “I’ve met with it more than once. It is a very curious phenomenon.”

“They do say it comes off from the coast of Africa,” remarked Ben Yool, who was at the wheel, and from his age privileged to speak on such a matter. “It’s full of red sand, and I’ve seen it covering the decks in some parts as if a man had been scraping a red holystone over them.”

We were still discussing the subject, when Captain Frankland came on deck. He listened for some time to what we were saying.

“I am glad to hear you discuss the subject, my lads,” he remarked in a kind voice. “Though you are wrong in your conjectures, if you will attend, I will try and explain what I know about the matter. It is a very important one, for by means of this dust—for dust it is—which fills the air, philosophers have been able to determine in part the difficult problem of the track of the winds in their circuits. How is this? you will say. Dust coming from one place surely cannot be distinguishable from dust coming from another. To the ignorant man it is not, but to the man of science it is. There are certain minute animal productions called infusoria and organisms peculiar to each portion of the globe. The expression is, the habitat of such infusoria is such or such a place. These infusoria can only be distinguished by a most powerful microscope. Professor Ehrenberg, who has devoted his attention to the subject, has examined specimens of the dust which is now falling on our decks. He found it composed of dry infusoria, the forms of which are found not on an African desert, but in the south-east trade-wind regions of South America.”

“South America, father!” exclaimed Jerry, pointing with his hand to the south-west. “How can those clouds of red dust come all the way out here in the teeth of the north-east trade-wind?”

“What becomes of the north-east trade-wind when it reaches the end of its journey, and where is that end think you, my boy?” asked Captain Frankland. Jerry looked puzzled, and I had not a notion to give forth on the subject. “I will try and explain the matter; but when you can obtain a work, written by Lieutenant Maury, of the American navy, you will comprehend the subject much better,” said Captain Frankland. “There are three calm regions or belts surrounding the globe—one under the equator, and one in each hemisphere, under the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn, which you have heard spoken of as the horse latitudes. Between these two belts blow the north-east and south-east trade-winds, meeting at the equatorial belt. Now, when they get there, instead of causing a whirlwind, the excessive heat causes the particles of which they are composed to expand and rise, gradually producing a calm. After rising a certain height, they again commence moving round the globe. Which course they took it was difficult to say, till we find these clouds of red dust carried along in an upper region of the atmosphere from south-west to north-east; for not only are they found here, but up the Mediterranean and across Switzerland. They are raised into the atmosphere probably by whirlwinds which occur during the vernal equinox, which is the dry season, from the valley of the lower Orinoco. Thus, had a label been attached to each particle of which the wind is composed, to show whence it came, the problem could not have been more perfectly solved.”

While the captain was speaking, Mr McRitchie came on deck, and collected in sheets of paper a quantity of the red dust. “It will be prized by some of my scientific friends at home,” he observed; “and even the unscientific may value a substance which has travelled half round the globe high up in the atmosphere.”

“There is another substance, doctor, which travels farther, and is of much greater use to man; and yet how little he troubles his head to consider where it comes from,” remarked the captain.

“What do you mean, sir?” asked the doctor, a little puzzled I thought.

“Water,” answered Captain Frankland. “Remember those dense fogs, like wet blankets, which so continually rise in those calm regions to the south of us; they are caused by vapours rising from the sea, and leaving its salt behind. This vapour must go somewhere, and it certainly does not fall in any place near the region where it is drawn up. See the beautiful provision of Nature to supply with fertilising moisture the many districts of the earth! This damp vapour, of which we shall by-and-by have a specimen, rises into the upper regions of the air, and is there wafted steadily on till it reaches the northern portion of the globe. It is raised by the powerful rays of the sun during the southern summer, and with it a considerable amount of heat is carried off which remains latent. When it reaches the far colder atmosphere of the north, it is formed into clouds, and condensed, and then precipitated in rain. In the southern hemisphere there is, as you know, a larger proportion of sea than in that of the north; and thus it serves as a reservoir to supply those spots which would otherwise be arid deserts, with an abundant supply of the chief necessary of life. The whole of nature is full of similar beautiful arrangements for making the globe a convenient habitation for man, clearly to be perceived if men would but open their eyes to behold them.”

Chapter Three.

The wonders of the ocean.

We were about a day’s sail or so from the Cape de Verd Islands, when one day, as I was looking out, I saw on the starboard-bow what I was certain was a shoal of great extent covered with sea-weed. “Land on the starboard-bow!” I sung out, thinking there could be no mistake about the matter. I heard a loud laugh at my shoulder. Old Ben Yool stood there.

“Well, if that is not land, I do not know what is!” I replied. But still Ben only laughed at me. I was arguing the point, when the captain, who was on deck, called me aft. I found him with a chart, which he was showing to Gerard.

“You are not the first person, Harry, who has taken that collection of sea-weed for land,” he observed. “That is the Sargasso Sea. When the companions of Columbus sighted it, they thought that it marked the extreme limits of the navigable ocean. We are at the southern edge of it. Look at this chart; it extends in a triangular form between the groups of the Azores, Canaries, and Cape de Verds. It is caused by the Gulf Stream, which, circling round the Atlantic, sends off towards the centre all the sea-weed and drift-wood collected in its course. Throw some chips into that tub; now, set the water in motion with your hand. The current you have created sends off all the chips into the centre of the tub. You need never forget how this Sargasso Sea becomes covered with weed. But you will wish to know something about this wonderful Gulf Stream, which not only produces the effect I have described, but exerts a very powerful influence, on the climate of many countries, and on the navigation of the Atlantic, besides causing many other important results. It is, indeed, one of the most wonderful of all the phenomena of the ocean. Consider it as a mighty river of warm water flowing for three thousand miles with scarcely diminished volume, never dying, never overflowing, over a bottom and between banks of cold water. So little affinity have its waters with the common water of the ocean, and so different is their colour, that a distinct line can often be traced where they pass along. See where it takes its rise in the Gulf of Mexico, whence it is called the Gulf Stream. Now, mark its course, and note its effects. Remember, that not only is it warm itself, but it warms the air which passes over it. It likewise contains much more salt than the common sea-water. The salt gives it its peculiar deep indigo-like colour. It runs at the rate of between three and five miles an hour. It is roof-shaped—that is, higher in the centre than on either side. This is proved by placing a boat on either side of the centre, when it drifts off towards the edge nearest to which it is cast loose. Another peculiarity exists in connection with it. Water radiates heat far more slowly than does the earth. If, therefore, the Gulf Stream swept along the ground, it would speedily lose its heat. To prevent this, it is made to pass over a cushion of cold water, into which its heat does not readily pass. When, however, its waters wash any shores, they impart some of their heat to them, increasing the warmth of the climate, adding fertility to the soil, and making it a more agreeable abode for man. Now, look at the chart, and observe where the mighty current leaves its reputed source in the Gulf of Mexico. Mark it sweeping round the coast of Florida, and glancing off to the eastward near Cape Hatteras, in the United States, allowing a belt of cold water to wash the shores of that country during the winter months of the year. Watch it passing near the coast of Nova Scotia, and in the summer, not far from that of Newfoundland, where it has undoubtedly caused the formation of the well-known fishing-banks. This is the way they have been produced. When the summer sun releases the innumerable mighty icebergs which have been formed on the shores of the polar regions, they float away to the south, carried by a current which sets towards Newfoundland. They bear away with them vast quantities of rock, and stones, and sand. Meeting the hot water of the Gulf Stream, they quickly melt and deposit their burdens at the bottom, always about the same spot which you see marked as the Grand Bank. Now the stream, taking an easterly course, reaches the 40th degree of north latitude, when it begins to spread itself over the colder water of the ocean, washing the shores of Ireland; some going up towards Spitzbergen, surrounding the Shetland Isles, and other isles in the north; more rushing up the British Channel; and another quantity flowing into the Bay of Biscay, and away again towards the south—adding warmth to the whole of the indented shores of Europe, and at the same time supplying the deficiency of salt to the waters flowing out of the Baltic and the Polar basin.”

“Thank you, father,” exclaimed Gerard; “I now understand why, when last year we made the voyage to New York, we kept away so far to the northward. It was to avoid the Gulf Stream, which would have been setting against us. But I say, father, I want to know why the water takes it into its head to flow in that way. I suppose there is some cause for it?”

“Our beneficent Maker undoubtedly formed it for the benefit of his creatures,” returned the captain; “but, as I have often told you, he brings about his purposes by the laws or causes which he himself has established. There may be several causes in operation to form this ocean-stream, though up to this moment learned men have been unable to decide what they are. Now one theory is advanced, now another. The shape of the Gulf Stream may have something to do with it. It appears that it is higher than the rest of the surface, for it is more bulky. Water will always seek its level. It has thus a tendency to flow towards the colder and lower water of the poles, feeling at the same time the effect of the diurnal motion of the globe; while the water of the poles, to supply its place, flows towards the equator, subject to the same disturbing cause. Thus the water of the globe is set in motion. These being hot, tropical waters, remain on the surface, and a portion of them is forced into the Gulf of Mexico. Here, though they lose somewhat of their saltness from the fresh waters of the Mississippi and Orinoco, they gain more heat from these hot streams, and are still much Salter than the rest of the ocean. Perhaps the impetus may be given them by the pressure of the currents from the poles. The diurnal motion of the globe will account for the drift-wood and sea-weed being cast off on the east or left bank of the stream. There is another cause for this. From the stream being roof-shaped, any drift which its left portion took up would have to go up hill to get to the northward. Therefore, though trees and other produce of the West Indies are found on the shores of Europe, none are ever picked up on those of America. And this brings me to the point from which I set out—the cause of the Sargasso Sea, the centre, it may be called, of this wondrous and almost inexplicable Gulf Stream.”

“But, father, still you have not told us why the Gulf Stream flows in the direction it does,” said Gerard, who generally stuck to the point in an argument on which he wanted information.

“Men possessed of far more scientific knowledge than I can boast of, have been puzzled to reply to that question,” returned the captain. “The trade-winds, the diurnal motion of the earth, the expansion of water by heat, may all combine to force it along and direct its course; and yet there may be some still more potent cause at work unperceived by us, perhaps undiscoverable. One thing we know, that it was the will of the Almighty that so it should flow, for a great and beneficent object; and that, to effect it, he has employed some potent and sufficient agent, which, when he thinks fit, he will allow to be revealed to us by the light of that science which he has given as one of his best gifts to man. There are, as you perceive on the charts, other currents in the vast ocean, all set in movement for the sake of benefiting the inhabitants of the globe. While the warm Gulf Stream runs up to Spitzbergen, the Hudson’s Bay and Arctic currents bring cold water and icebergs towards the south; and a current from the North Atlantic carries its cooling waters round the arid shores of western Africa. There is the great equatorial current from east to west round the world, and numerous other currents in the Pacific and Indian Oceans, the influence of which we shall feel during our voyage; and by knowing where to search for them, and where to avoid them, we can generally make them serviceable to our object. What I would especially point out to you, my lads, is the beautiful adaptation of all the works of the Creator to the great object of the whole. The air and water are kept in motion for the benefit of man and all living beings. Order everywhere reigns supreme. Science shows us that storms are regulated by exact laws, and it is only through our ignorance and blindness that we cannot tell whence they come, and whither they go. What an admirable system of compensation exists throughout the universe! Heat, lost by radiation, is quickly restored; water, lifted up by evaporation, has its place supplied by colder currents; mighty rivers discharge their waters in vast quantities into the ocean, and from the far-off regions of the tropics the winds come loaded with dense vapours, which, precipitated at their sources with ample and regular measure, supply all their demands. I might produce numberless examples. As an instance, the whole volume of the waters of the Mississippi, rushing out at its mouth, find their way back again in an ever-constant circle to its sources among the far-off lakes of North America. The Gulf Stream fertilises the earth for the benefit of man, and it likewise carries food to regions frequented by the mighty whales. Frequently large shoals of sea-nettles, on which the black whale feeds, have been met with, borne onward towards its haunts in the north. The whale itself, it is believed, could not exist in the warm waters of the stream. Fish, also, are not generally found in it; and those which inhabit it are of a very inferior flavour. Instead, therefore, of wandering about the ocean, where they could not be procured by man, they are driven to the shallow waters near the coast, where they can easily be caught. It is a curious fact, that the warmer the water, the brighter are the colours of the fish which inhabit it; though, as food, they are generally of much less value. While the Gulf Stream largely benefits the globe, it is at the same time the proximate cause of shipwreck and disaster, from the storms which it creates, in consequence of the irregularity of its temperature, and that of the neighbouring regions, both in air and water. Perhaps nowhere is a more terrific sea found than when a heavy gale meets the Gulf Stream, when running at its maximum rate. Many a ship has gone down beneath its waters. However, I might go on all day telling you curious things about this same Gulf Stream. One thing more I will mention: people often complain of the dampness of England. The same cause which so favourably tempers the cold of our country, creates the dampness complained of. It is not that our soil is more humid, that marshes exist, or that the country is not well drained; but it is that the westerly and north-westerly breezes which prevail, come loaded with the warm vapours ascending from the tropic heated waters of the Gulf Stream.”

“Thank you, father, for all you have told us,” said Gerard; “I think I have learned a great deal I did not know before.”

I was certain that I had, and directly afterwards put down, as well as I could remember, all Captain Frankland had said. The next day we sighted Saint Vincent, one of the ten islands which form the Cape de Verd group, so-called from being off the Cape de Verds, on the coast of Africa. The islands belong to the Portuguese. They produce all sorts of tropical fruits and vegetables, so that ships often touch here to be supplied with them. A large number of the inhabitants are black, or of a very dark hue. Instead of standing directly for the Brazils, Captain Frankland shaped a course almost across the Atlantic for the coast of South America. He did this, he explained to Gerard and me, to get the wind, which generally blows off that coast when the north-east trade failed us; and to avoid the equatorial calms, in which, away from the land, vessels are often baffled for days together. I found, after I had been some time at sea, “That the longest way round is often the shortest way there,” as the saying is. In tropical latitudes, winds from different quarters blow with great regularity in different places at certain seasons of the year. The great object of a master is, to find where the wind is blowing which will be fair for him. The two most regular winds are the north-east and south-east trade-winds which blow from either side of the equator, and meet in a wide belt of calms found under it. There are currents in the air as well as in the ocean; and Silas told me that he has more than once passed ships at sea right before the wind—steering north, for instance, while his ship, with an equally fair breeze, has been standing to the south. Formerly, ships used to be steered as far south as they could get before the trade-winds; and then often found themselves baffled for days, if not weeks together, in the calm latitudes off the coast of Africa, when, if they had stood boldly across the ocean, as we were now doing, they would never have wanted a wind move or less fair. Thus it will be seen that in navigation there are currents in the sea and currents in the air to be considered, and that it requires a great deal of forethought, and knowledge, and experience, to take a ship in safety and with speed round the world. We were bowling along in grand style before the north-east trade-wind, when Gerard stopped his father in his morning walk on deck.

“I say, father, can you tell Harry and me all about this trade-wind, which we have got hold of it seems?” said he with a grave look, as if he wished to become very learned.

“Which has got hold of us rather, I should say, by the way it is carrying us along,” answered the captain, smiling. No one knew Jerry so well as he did, though he often pretended not to understand at what he was driving. “You ask a question to which it is rather difficult to reply in a brief way. Take a piece of paper; draw a circle on it; now, draw three parallel belts across it—one in the centre, and one on each side of the centre. Write on the centre belt, ‘Equatorial Calms;’ on the upper, ‘Calms of Cancer;’ on the lower, ‘Calms of Capricorn.’ The circle represents the globe; the ends of a line drawn at right angles to the belts where it reaches the circle, mark the poles. The globe moves from west to east. Now, suppose a mass of air sent off from the north pole towards the equator in a straight line, it not partaking of the diurnal motion of the earth would appear as if it came from the north-east. Another mass starting from the equator towards the pole in consequence of the impetus given it, would be going faster towards the east than the earth, and would, consequently, appear as if it came from the south-west. This actually takes place, but in the upper regions of the air. The same exchange takes place between the south pole and the equator. Now, let us see what becomes of these masses. That which started from the north pole meets in the air at about the parallel of 30 degrees; the mass which started from the equator meeting with equal force, they balance each other, and produce a calm and an accumulation of atmosphere pressing downward, and ejecting from below two surface-currents—one towards the equator, which are the north-east trade-winds; the other towards the pole, called the south-west passage-winds. This moving mass of air, which constitutes the north-east trade-wind, meets near the equator with another mass which has been moving on as the south-east trade—meeting with equal force, they form a calm; and then, warmed by the heat of the sun, they ascend, one-half streaming off high up towards the south-east—that is, counter to the surface-current—till it reaches the southern calm belt; another mass coming from the south-west, where it descends, and rushes as a north-west surface-wind towards the south pole. We have traced the mass which started from the north pole. Reaching the southern regions, it is whirled round till, at the pole itself, a perfect calm is produced, when it ascends and starts off as an upper current towards the equator; but meeting another current near the tropic of Capricorn, then descends, one-half flowing out at the surface, as I have before described, as the south-east trade, the other towards the south pole. This is the most beautiful and regular system of atmospheric circulation kept up around our globe. It has not been ascertained exactly why the masses I have spoken of take certain directions, but we know the directions they do take. The red dust we found off the Cape de Verds assists us in certain degrees. We know some of the agents—the diurnal motion of the earth, and the sun’s heating rays. There are certain counteracting or disturbing causes from which the surface-winds deviate from the courses I have described. Some lands are covered with forests, others with marshes, others with sand. All these may be disturbing causes—so are lofty mountains. From these causes, and the more powerful effect of the sun’s rays in one place than in another, hurricanes and typhoons occur, and the monsoons are made to blow—the harmattan on the west coast of Africa; the simoon, with its deadly breath, in Arabia; the oppressive sirocco in the Mediterranean. What I have said will explain that beautiful passage in Ecclesiastes, 1st chapter, 6th verse, which shows the exactness of the sacred writers whenever they do introduce scientific subjects: ‘The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.’ Who gave Solomon this information? I doubt if any of his sages possessed that scientific knowledge which has only been attained by philosophers of late years. Perhaps I may still more clearly explain to you the cause of the circulation of the atmosphere. I told you that there were two agents at work—diurnal motion, and the heat of the sun; but to these may be added the cold of the poles, which contracts the air. Suppose the globe at rest, and covered with one uniform stagnant mass of atmosphere; suddenly heat, cold, and the diurnal motion commence their operations. The air about the equator would expand, that about the poles contract. Thus two systems of winds would commence to blow—one above, from the equator towards the poles; and as thus a vacuum would be left below, a current would come from the poles to supply its place. The diurnal motion prevents these currents running in straight lines. That coming from the poles will appear to have easting in them, and those going towards the poles westing. Not only, however, is the level of the atmosphere changed by the heating rays of the sun, but its specific gravity. Thus the heated current moves more easily and rapidly than the colder; and the latter, consequently, turns back a portion of what was going towards the poles, and adjusts the equilibrium of the atmosphere. I have already shown you the great importance of the circulation of the air in the economy of nature; and how, among the many offices of the atmosphere, it distributes moisture over the surface of the earth, making the barren places fruitful, and tempering the climates of different latitudes, fitting them as the abode of civilised man. But I will not pursue the subject further just now. You must do that for yourselves. Try and remember what I have said, and think about it whenever you have an opportunity.” Jerry and I thanked the captain for what he had told us, and I, as before, at once dotted it down as well as I could in my note-book.

Crossing the Atlantic, we sighted a glittering white rock rising fifty feet out of the water. It was, I found, the Island of Saint Paul’s. It had a curious appearance, standing thus alone in the ocean 500 miles from the coast of America, and 350 from the Island of Fernando Noronha—the snowy pinnacle of a submarine mountain. We hove-to close to it, and a boat being lowered, Mr McRitchie, Mr Brand, Jerry, and I, went on shore. The whole rock is not three-quarters of a mile in circumference. Its white colour, we found, was produced by a thin coating of a substance formed by the washing off of the birds’ dung, collected there in a succession of ages. The rock was covered with birds—my old friends, the booby and the noddy, I had so often read about. They stared at us with a stupid look as we pulled up, not at all able to make us out, and in no way disposed to make way for us. Gerard and I were for knocking as many as we could on the head; but Cousin Silas would not allow us, observing that we did not want them for food, and that they had a far better right to the rock than we had. The booby, Mr McRitchie told us, is a species of gannet, and the noddy a species of tern. The first lays her eggs on the bare rock, but the latter constructs a nest with sea-weed. While the doctor was eagerly hunting about for specimens of natural history, we were amused by watching the proceedings of some of the few inhabitants of the rock. By the side of several of the noddies’ nests we saw a dead flying-fish, evidently deposited there by the male bird. Whenever we succeeded in driving away any one of the females, instantly a big crab, which seemed to have been watching his opportunity from the crevices of the rocks, would rush out, and with greedy claws carry off the prey. One fellow, still more hungry, ran away with one of the young birds. Another was going to make a similar attempt.

“I ought to stop that fellow, at all events!” said Jerry, giving Master Crab a stunning blow. We tied his claws, and presented him as a trophy to the doctor.

“A fine specimen of Graspus” cried our scientific friend, stowing him away in his wallet.

“A capital name!” said Jerry. “He seemed ready enough to grasp anything he could lay his claws on.”

The doctor said he could find neither a plant nor a lichen on the island, and only a few insects and spiders, besides the boobies and noddies. I ought to have mentioned that we did not fail to meet with the moist and oppressive weather found under the belt of calms under the equator. Frequently I felt as if I could scarcely breathe, and nearly everybody was in low spirits and ready to grumble. Jerry and I vowed that the air was abominable. Cousin Silas stopped us.

“Remember, lads,” said he, “what the captain was telling you. If it were not for them mists, how could the rivers of the north be supplied with their waters, and the fields of our own land be made fertile? Thank God rather that you are thus enabled to see more of the wonders of creation.”

I never forgot this remark of Cousin Silas. A delightful writer, now well-known, describing the subject, calls it “The Circle of Blessing.” (Mrs Alfred Gatty, in her “Parables from Nature.”)

Making sail, we soon lost sight of that white-topped rock. Soon afterward Gerard rushed down one morning at daybreak into our berth, and, rousing me up, told me I was wanted on deck. Half asleep, I jumped up, and slipping my legs into my trousers—for no other garment was required in that latitude—ran with him where he led me forward. I had scarcely got my eyes open when I found myself seized by two shaggy monsters; and hearing the sound of a conch shell, I looked up, and saw before me, as if he had just come over the bows of the ship, a strange-looking personage, with a glittering crown on his head, a huge red nose, long streaming hair, and white whiskers as big as two mops. In his hand he held a trident, and over his shoulders was worn a mantle covered with strange devices.

“Trite!—where’s Trite? Come along, Trite!” he exclaimed, in a gruff voice—which sounded not altogether unlike that of old Ben Yool’s—as he looked over the bows; and presently he handed up a lady of very ample dimensions, who certainly, except for a petticoat and a necklace of shells, I should not have suspected to have belonged to the fair sex.

“Oh, there you are, my lovie! We must be sharp about our work, for we have so many ships to board that we haven’t a moment to lose. Now, if there are any young shavers who hasn’t crossed the middle of my kingdom before, let them be brought up here in quarter less than no time, or I’ll do—I’ll do—I’ll do what you shall see.”

This was said in a terrifically gruff voice. Before I had time to look about me, the two monsters had dragged me forward before his marine majesty and his spouse; and one producing a huge cold tar brush, and the other a piece of rusty hoop, I found my face paid over with some most odorous lather. I cried out to Jerry, who I thought, as a friend, ought to help me; but he pretended to be in a dreadful fright, and when the monsters ran after him he managed to shove so violently against me that he sent me head first into a large tub of water which stood at the feet of Neptune. I was, however, immediately hauled out by the shaggy Tritons, and after a fresh application of lather, my face was scraped over with the piece of hoop.

“Douse him—douse the baby again!” shouted Neptune; and from the mode I was treated, I thought that I should have been nearly drowned, had not Mrs Neptune, or rather Amphitrite, interfered in a voice which was intended to be very affectionate, but which sounded as if the poor lady had a very sore throat, and begged that I might be allowed to return to my cradle to sleep out the remainder of my watch.

“Oh, good mother, your sex are always gentle and kind,” I answered, determining to jump with the humour of the thing, and to show that I had not lost my temper, although the ceremony I had gone through was far from pleasant. “Now, if you’ll just leave one of your squires here aboard, and he’ll come aft by-and-by, I’ll try if I can fish out a five-shilling piece from the bottom of my chest, to buy you and your good man some baccy and rum, to cheer you when you get back to your own fireside.”

“Well spoken, like a true son of the Ocean!” exclaimed Neptune, patting me on the back. “For that same notion you are free from henceforth and for ever of my watery realms; seeing also as how you have been lathered and shaved and crossed the line. So here are three cheers for Mr Harry Hopeton; and may he live to sail round the world, and to command as fine a ship as this here craft—and finer, too!”

The crew, at Neptune’s beck, on this gave three hearty cheers; and while the Tritons were chasing down some lads and two or three men, who had never before crossed the line, I made my escape towards a tub of clean water, and thence to my cabin, where I very soon removed all traces of the discipline I had gone through. By the time the captain appeared the whole ceremony was at an end, and the men were employed in washing down decks, as if nothing had occurred. It was the third mate’s watch; and I found afterwards that Jerry, who was the chief instigator, had obtained his leave to have the ceremony take place. The captain, I daresay, also knew all about it, but said nothing on the subject. Once upon a time the crew of every ship crossing the line considered it their right to be allowed full licence to indulge in all sorts of wild pranks; but the custom got so much abused that many captains have put a stop to it altogether, while others only allow it among well-tried and trusty crews. I was not sorry to have had the tricks played on me, because it contributed to gain me the good will of the people; and I now felt that, having crossed the line, I had a right to consider myself something of a sailor.

Chapter Four.

A trip up the Amazon.

Two days after crossing the line we sighted the island of Fernando Noronha, which, with several outlying islets, is a very picturesque spot. It belongs to the empire of the Brazils, and is used as a penal settlement. As Captain Frankland wished to touch at every place not out of his way, we dropped anchor in Citadel Bay, opposite a fort on which the Brazilian colours were flying. A boat was lowered, and though some heavy rollers were setting into the bay, we managed to get on shore on the top of one of them without getting wet—that is to say, the captain, Gerard, and I. It was really a pretty sight. We pulled on steadily, with the head of the boat directed on shore; then a high, heaving, glassy wave came gliding in, and the boat was on its summit; now the men pulled away with all their might, and on we flew till the boat’s keel touched the beach. Quickly the waters receded. The instant they did so we all jumped out, and hauling the boat up before another roller came in, she was high and dry out of harm’s way. A guard of blacks received us; and hearing that the town was only about a mile and a half distant, we set off to walk there. We passed through a pretty valley, and some woods of tropical shrubs, with the blue sea visible beneath their broad, fan-like leaves, and by many huts and cottages, inhabited mostly by blacks, who seemed very much astonished at our appearance. At last we reached the town, which has an open space in the centre, and a church and the governor’s house at one end, and a strong fort above it. Here nearly all the soldiers and free men are blacks, while the whites are mostly slaves, made so by their crimes. It must be rather a satisfactory state of things to the feelings of the blacks. The governor of this place—of a hundred houses or so—received us very civilly, and gave the captain all the information he required; and, besides that, a good supply of vegetables, which the island produces in abundance.

On leaving Fernando Noronha we steered for Pernambuco—perhaps, next to Rio, the port of the greatest importance in the Brazils. On going into the harbour with a strong breeze blowing, the pilot from gross carelessness gave the Triton so hard a blow against a rook that an ugly hole was knocked in her bottom. It seemed for a moment that the masts would have gone by the board; but the ship, bounding off the rock, glided on as if nothing had happened. It was a great trial for the temper of Captain Frankland; but he uttered scarcely a word of reproof to the pilot, and as to an oath, I never heard an expression even approaching one pass from his lips all the time I was with him. The crew were all at their stations, and none stirred from them till the captain ordered the carpenter to sound the well. He quickly reported that there were three feet of water in the well, and that it was rushing in at a great rate. All hands on board not absolutely required to shorten sail were ordered to man the pumps, and the Triton was carried in as close to the town as possible, so that she might immediately be put on shore should there be danger of her sinking. On a further examination of the damage the ship had received, it was found that it would be absolutely necessary to land part of her cargo and to put her on shore before it could be repaired. It was late in the day before this was determined on, so that nothing could be done that afternoon. All night long the sound of the pumps going continuously kept me awake till towards morning, when I still heard them in my sleep. A gang of negroes had been brought off to work them in relays, so that the crew were saved the fatigue which they would otherwise have undergone. I was very glad the next morning when I found the ship hauled close in-shore to a place where, if she did sink, she could not go far, or drown those on board. Captain Frankland found that it would take a considerable time to get the damage repaired, as it was even of a more serious nature than at first supposed. He bore the annoyance with his usual calm temper. I have often thought what a valuable possession is a calm temper, and how worthy of being cultivated.

The ship was consigned to an English firm—Messrs Gleg and Robarts—who rendered us every assistance in their power. Mr Robarts was on the point of starting in a fast-sailing schooner on a trip along the coast to the northward and west, as far as the mouth of the mighty river Amazon. He invited Gerard and me, with Mr McRitchie, to accompany him—not the last excursion of the sort we were destined to make. As he undertook to be back before the ship could be ready for sea, the captain, glad that we should see as much of the country as possible, allowed us to go. I was amused at hearing the doctor charge the crew not to fall sick, or tumble down and break their arms or legs, till his return, at the risk of his high displeasure. The schooner—the Andorinha—was built and manned by Portuguese, or rather Brazilians and blacks. She was a very pretty little vessel, and a first-rate sea-boat; indeed, the Portuguese models of vessels often used to put to shame the crafts of the same class built in England. However, of late years we have made a great stride in that respect. I speak of the Portuguese, because the Brazils, it must be remembered, was colonised from Portugal, and the greater

part of the white inhabitants—if they can be called white by courtesy—are of that nation originally. I am sorry to say that I lost my notes made on this trip, so that I am unable to describe it with the minuteness of the rest of my narrative.

Mr Robarts was a very merry, kind person, and we spent a very pleasant life on board the little Andorinha. We put into several of the large rivers, as the object of Mr Robarts was to collect some of the wildest productions of the country from the natives inhabiting their banks. When, we entered the Amazon, I could scarcely believe that we were in a river, so wide and grand is the stream. The colour of the water, however, showed us that it was really a river we were in. We had gone up for some considerable distance, a strong breeze enabling us to battle with the current, when at length we came to an anchor near the shore. About a hundred and fifty miles up is the Brazilian town of Para—a complete sea-port, though not equal in size to Pernambuco. We, however, having a favourable breeze, went much further up the main stream, and then turned into one of the numerous rivers which fall into it. Here Mr Robarts expected to remain some little time to trade with the natives. I had been below, when, on returning on deck, I heard Gerard laughing heartily, and pointing to a boat which was proceeding up the stream. In the fore-part was a thatched shed, on either side of which sat four natives paddling. In the after-part was another shed of bamboo and grass, under which sat the passengers. On the top of all was the helmsman—a naked savage, lying his full length, and steering with his feet, under a sun which would quickly have cooked a beef-steak exposed to it. Mr Robarts told us that the boat or canoe was called an egaritea, and that it was the canoe usually employed for the conveyance of travellers on the Amazon. Again we laughed at the helmsman, who seemed perfectly unconcerned, as, holding on to the bamboo roof with one hand, he rested his black head on the other, just high enough to let him look about in every direction. Mr Robarts could not leave the schooner; but as Mr McRitchie and we were very anxious to see as much of the interior of this wonderful country as possible, we arranged to go up in an egaritea as far as time would allow. Mr Robarts allowed us to take a half-caste native, who had served on board a British ship and spoke a little English, as our interpreter. He was called Pedro, but he had a much longer Indian name, which I do not remember. Away we started, in high glee, with blankets, a supply of provisions, and a few cooking utensils, with plates, cups, knives, and forks. We could not help laughing whenever we thought of our araies, or chief boatman, lying at his length above us, steering with his feet. This mode of travelling we found very comfortable—almost too luxurious for our tastes—and tolerably expeditious. I should say that we all had our guns, and that McRitchie had, besides, his sketch-book, and boxes and cases for collecting subjects of natural history. The difficulty in this region was to know what to select. The water abounded with all sorts of strange fish, and turtles and alligators innumerable. I must say, when I first saw one of these hideous monsters, I felt an awe creeping over me, though the natives did not seem to care a bit about them. We had got to the end of our voyage in the egaritea, and arranged to hire a light open canoe, with two men as rowers, in which we could proceed up some of the smaller rivers. Nothing could surpass the luxuriance of the foliage, which not only lined their banks, but extended a long way inland, strange birds of all sizes, from the diminutive humming-bird to others of immense bulk, of the most gorgeous plumage, flew about among the trees; while, as we paddled along, we heard the most curious chatterings, and now and then, if we remained quiet for a few minutes, we could see hundreds of little black and brown and yellow faces, with bright eyes peering at us from among the boughs. The slightest movement or noise made by us would send them scampering off along the branches, or rather swinging themselves by hands and tails from bough to bough, or from creeper to creeper, that being their favourite mode of locomotion. They were clean, nice, respectable-looking little fellows, quite unlike monkeys cooped up in menageries, or even in the Zoological Gardens, and seemed to lead very happy and joyous lives. Gerard declared that if he was not a human being really, the next best state of existence he should desire would be that of a monkey on the banks of the Amazon. We were not aware at the time of certain facts, which afterwards came to our knowledge, which might detract somewhat from the desirability of the existence; among others, that the natives shoot and eat the poor little fellows with as little compunction as we should young pigs or fowls.

We were paddling along, admiring the wonderful foliage—one forest seeming, as it were, to rise up out of the top of another, the lowest being higher and thicker than any forest in northern regions—when suddenly a huge black monster was seen swimming rapidly towards us.

“An alligator!” exclaimed McRitchie. “He’ll make mince-meat of us in a moment. My gun—quick, quick!”

I was handing him his gun when one of our native boatmen, laughing at our fright, made signs that there was no danger, and seizing a piece of drift-wood floating by, adroitly threw it across its mouth. The vast jaw of the monster came crashing down on it. There they stuck, and the native assured us, through Pedro, that he was now quite harmless. McRitchie took a steady aim at the creature’s eye, while a native stood ready with a coil of ropes to throw over it directly it was killed, or it would have sunk, I fancy, out of sight in an instant. McRitchie’s bullet took immediate effect, and we soon had the creature hauled up on the nearest bank, where our medico had the opportunity of anatomically examining him at his leisure. While he was thus employed, Gerard and I agreed that it would be a good opportunity to prepare dinner, assisted by Pedro. The natives preferred sleeping in their canoe. While we were engaged over our fish, I on a sudden looked up, and saw a huge animal of the tiger species stealing catlike towards the doctor, attracted probably by the carcass of the alligator. The creature seemed at that moment about to make its fatal spring. I had my gun providentially by my side. I shrieked out to the doctor to be on his guard, and at the same moment raised my weapon to my shoulder to fire. He had the large knife with which he had been cutting up the alligator in his hand. Resting on my knee, I fired, and though I did not flatter myself that I was a good shot, happily hit the animal on the head. He fell backwards, stunned but not dead; and the doctor, rushing forward with his knife, deprived the creature of existence, thanking me in the same breath for the service I had rendered him.

“Come, we are meeting with adventures now, I do think, indeed!” exclaimed Jerry, as we sat round our repast, after the enthusiastic doctor had cut up the tiger. “Hurrah! it’s great fun.”

Soon after embarking to proceed on our voyage, we looked into a curious little nook under the trees, where, in the centre of the stream, lay a canoe with two people, a man and his wife, in it. They were not over-encumbered with garments, but the man had some curious feather ornaments on his arms. At first they seemed inclined to paddle away, but a shout from one of our canoemen brought them alongside, and from the affectionate greeting which was exchanged between the parties we found that they were relations, or at all events great friends.

Pedro informed us that they invited us to their dwelling. We were delighted to accept the invitation, as we particularly wished to see the way of life of the aborigines. We paddled on some little distance, when our new friends, leading the way pushed in among the tall reeds till we found ourselves close to some long poles with a platform on the top and a ladder leading to it. We followed them up the ladder, when we found ourselves in a sort of hut, thickly thatched over with palm-leaves. Looking out, we saw several similar habitations. It seemed something like living up in trees. We concluded that the object the natives had in view in placing their

habitations in such positions was to avoid the floods, as also snakes and crawling creatures, and the noxious air which floats close to the surface. All the natives’ houses are not built in this way, for when we went further inland we met with several standing only a short distance from the ground—on some more elevated spot. The natives are not very pleasant companions, as they anoint their bodies all over with oil, which gives anything but a notion that they indulge in cleanliness. Jerry, however, observed that it was probably nothing when people got accustomed to it, and that as oil was a clean thing, they might be more cleanly than people who wear dirty clothes and never wash. Even these people do wash their children; and

we were highly amused in the morning on seeing a mother giving her little black-headed papoose a bath. The bath was a big tub made out of the hollowed seed-lobe of a species of palm. The fat little creature splashed about and seemed to enjoy the bath amazingly. After this we agreed that the natives had a good reason for anointing their bodies with oil, and that they were not naturally a dirty people. With Pedro, who carried the doctor’s cases, and one of the natives as a guide, we made from thence a long excursion inland. We were all together when Pedro stopped us. “There is something curious up in the trees,” he observed. We peered through the branches, and a little way off saw two men—negroes they seemed—seated at some distance from each other on the boughs of different trees, perfectly motionless. Each of them had a tube at his mouth about twelve feet long, and very slender. The mouthpiece was thick—a short cylinder apparently—as the doctor told us, a receptacle for wind. The weapon or instrument, he said, was a sarbacan. Numerous beautiful birds were flying about in the neighbourhood, some of them the most diminutive humming-birds. Soon as we looked down fell one, then another and another. They were shot with little darts of hard wood pointed at one end, and twisted round with wadding at the other to prevent the wind escaping. Jerry said that at school he had often made similar weapons on a small scale, and had killed insects with them. After the sportsmen had shot off all their arrows they came down from their perches to collect their game. We found that they were employed by some naturalists at Para, and that the birds were wanted either for stuffing or for the sake of their feathers. We saw several snakes as we continued our walk, and I must own that I felt very uncomfortable when they appeared hanging from the boughs of the trees or crawling along among the thick grass. Many of them were perfectly harmless, but others, we were told, were fearfully venomous. Once we very narrowly escaped a rattlesnake which appeared close to us, but Providence has ordered it that most of these creatures should be more afraid of man than man need be of them, and they make off rapidly at his approach. If, however, they are trodden on, or are disturbed waiting for their prey, they become savage, and revenge themselves on the intruders. In most instances, the only chance of saving the life of a person bitten is at once to suck the wound.

At length it was time for us to go back to the egaritea, that we might return to the schooner. We found, on rejoining the passenger canoe, that she would not be ready to start till the next morning. We were doubting what to do with ourselves in the meantime, when Pedro informed us that he had heard of some amusing sport to take place that night, and that he could obtain leave for us to join in it if we wished. A party of natives were going a little way down the river to a sandbank on which turtles wore accustomed, at this season of the year, to come on shore in order to deposit their eggs. The natives hide themselves near the spot, and as soon as the unsuspecting turtles have performed the operation, they rush out and turn as many as they can catch on their backs. There they lie helpless till they are dispatched by the hungry aborigines. We started in our own canoe, in company with twenty or thirty others, late in the evening. On reaching the neighbourhood of the sandbank all the canoes put to shore, and were drawn up on the beach. The natives, one acting as a leader, whom we followed close after, proceeded along in single file till a number of bushes and trees close to the bank was reached. Behind these the party were soon concealed. It was a great trial of patience waiting for the turtle. I thought at last that they would not appear, and regretted having lost our night’s rest for nothing. At last, however, a low whistle from our leader aroused the attention of the whole party, and a number of black objects were seen moving over the white sands, till the bank seemed literally covered with them. They remained for some time scraping holes in the sand, and, as I supposed, depositing their eggs in them; then, at a sign from our copper-coloured leader, out rushed all the savages, and getting between the water and the turtle began turning them over with wonderful rapidity. Jerry and I tried our hands at the sport, but while we turned one turtle a native would turn a dozen, and would rush into the water after those that had escaped, and frequently bring them back. At length all the turtle had escaped or been killed, or had rather been turned on their backs, where they lay utterly unable to move. The natives now selected five or six, and carrying them to an open place inland where the squaws had already lighted a fire, hero they cut the flesh out of the shell and immediately began cooking it in a variety of ways, and as soon as it was cooked tossing it down their throats. They all ate till they were gorged, and then went fast asleep round their fires, forgetful of tigers or rattlesnakes or other wild creatures. I should think a tiger must occasionally carry some of them off when they are in that state, unless the wild beasts prefer the turtles, which I rather fancy they do. We selected four turtle, and filled a basket with a quantity of the round soft eggs, and then paddled back to our egaritea.

Soon after it was daylight we started on our passage down the river, which, as we had a strong current in our favour, was very quickly performed. The Andorinha was just ready to sail, and as we had a fair breeze, we did not stop at Para, but proceeded at once to sea.

I have narrated the chief incidents of our expedition. By-the-by, the doctor took a capital sketch of one of the tree habitations, literally perched among the branches. He had to climb a tree to take it, an easy matter in those parts, considering the immense number of tendrils to assist a person in the operation. A big monkey was sitting on a neighbouring bough, and did not observe us, as we were hid by the thick foliage. I have introduced the sketch at the end of the chapter.

We had a favourable voyage back to Pernambuco, where we found the repairs of the Triton just completed. Captain Frankland was of course very anxious not to lose a day after this was done, so as soon as the cargo could be restowed we bade farewell to Mr Robarts and our other kind friends, and with a light wind stood out of the harbour. Our destination was Rio de Janeiro, the capital of the Brazils. I shall not forget the magnificent sight which met my eyes, as one bright afternoon we glided through a narrow entrance into its superb harbour. We appeared to be sailing up a large lake, extending as far inland as the eye could reach, and surrounded with lofty mountains of many different and picturesque shapes. On either side were walls of granite, rising sheer out of the water to a height of nearly 2000 feet, while behind them rose the vast Sugar-loaf Mountain, and a number of other lofty and barren peaks towering up clear and defined against the blue sky. Like mighty giants they surround the harbour, the ground at their bases sloping towards the water, and sprinkled with pretty villages, and quintas, and orange-groves, and covered with the most luxuriant vegetation. A picturesque fort guards the entrance to the bay. Passing it, after sailing about four miles, we dropped our anchor among a crowd of vessels carrying the ensigns of nearly all the civilised nations of the world, before the city of Rio, which, built on a flat extending two miles from the hills, appeared on our left hand. As our stay was to be short, the captain allowed Gerard and me to accompany the doctor on shore at once. He himself went with us, and introduced us to a merchant, who kindly undertook to show us about the place.

“There, go and see all you can, and give me an account of what you have seen when you return on board,” were his parting words.

Rio, with its superb harbour, as seen from the heights above it, is a picturesque city, as I think the drawing I brought home and now give will prove. It is built upon piles—that is, the lower part—and as the drainage is bad, it is at times very unhealthy. On landing, we found ourselves on a large open space with a palace before us, and a fountain in front of it. Before the palace stood two negro soldiers as a guard. The army, our friend told us, is composed chiefly of negroes, who make very good soldiers; and the navy is manned by them. Acting with Englishmen, many of whom are in the Brazilian navy, they are as bravo and trustworthy as any men to be found. Off the square branched a number of narrow streets. As the climate is so hot, all the streets are made narrow, that they may be kept as much as possible in shade. The houses are mostly of good size, and the walls are very thick; they thus keep out the heat of the sun. The churches are also substantially built, and decorated in a very florid style—the interiors being tawdry in the extreme, calculated only to please the uncultivated taste of the negroes and of the lower order of whites. Railways have been formed in the Brazils, and one runs to Petropolis, a summer resort of the principal inhabitants. Omnibuses, too, have made their appearance. The streets are paved with fine blocks of stone, and the city is lighted with gas; indeed, as our friend observed, “under the liberal government of the present constitutional emperor the country has made great material progress. When her literally unbounded resources are developed, the Brazils cannot fail, unless her constitution is overthrown, of becoming a wealthy and happy nation. At present, her wretched parody of the pure religion of Christians, and her lazy, profligate, and ignorant priests, tend more than anything else to retard her progress. Vile as they are, they have been unable to prevent the free circulation of the Scriptures and the toleration of Protestant opinions.”

We were struck by the immense number of negroes who crowd the streets. Those born in Africa are known by the distinguishing marks of their tribes on their foreheads. Many of them are free. A negro in Rio may demand his valuation from a magistrate, and when he can make up the fixed sum he can purchase his freedom. Slaves are generally treated kindly by their masters, and as their price is high, on account of the impediments thrown in the way of the slave trade, their health is carefully looked after. The porters are all slaves. They pay their owners so much a day, and keep the rest of what they gain for themselves. They carry everything on their heads. We sometimes met a dozen grunting or singing in time, as they stooped under some huge machine borne aloft above them. They lie about the streets with their baskets, ready for anybody’s call. We thought the Brazilians a very quiet and most polite people. They were continually bowing to each other, and there was none of that bustling roughness so often seen in England. We met the emperor on horseback in plain clothes, though his attendants were in handsome uniforms. He was a fine intelligent-looking young man, and is much liked. The Brazilian government is liberal. Both Houses of Parliament are elected by the people; and if there is a majority of three-fourths in favour of a measure in the Lower House, the measure is virtually carried, whatever the vote of the Upper. If the Senate, or Upper House, do not agree, the two meet in convention; and as the number of the Senate is small compared to that of the Lower House, it can thus always be outvoted. The vote of the emperor can suspend a law for a year; but if, at the end of that time, it be again passed by the Legislature, it takes effect. In reality, the government is a republic, the emperor being the executive, though deprived of legislative power.

We passed in our walk a house out of which a funeral procession was coming. It was that of a young lad of our own age, we were told. That and the neighbouring houses were hung with blue cloth. The hearse and liveries of the servants, and the trappings of the horses, were of the same colour. His hands were crossed before him with a cup in them. The decorations at the funerals of young children are red, those only of grown-up people are black. If boys are named after any of the saints, they are dressed in appropriate costumes. If after Saint John, a pen is placed in one hand and a book in the other. If after Saint Francis or Saint Anthony, he has a monk’s gown and cowl. Sometimes a boy is called after the archangel Michael, and then he wears a gilt pasteboard helmet, a tunic with a belt round the waist, tight red boots, and his hand resting on a sword. Poor little girls, with rouge and false locks, are made to represent Madonnas and female saints. Jerry and I agreed that we should not like to be rigged out in that guise after we were dead.

Rio is supplied with water by an aqueduct which comes from far up among the mountains, its chief source being a romantic and forest-surrounded spot, called the “Mother of Waters.” The actual channel which conveys sufficient water to supply so large a city as Rio is only nine inches wide and nine and a half deep. The precious fluid, however, comes rushing down with great rapidity, and thus quickly fills all the reservoirs below. It is conveyed from its mountain-source sometimes across valleys on high massive arches, sometimes in the interior of a thick wall-like structure, and sometimes underground. The channel has for its whole length an arch above it of sufficient height and width to enable a man to walk upright along it. Altogether, we agreed that Rio if it were not for the slaves and the monks, and the want of drains, would be a very civilised city. Never did sight-seers get over the ground faster than we did, or make better use of their eyes. I ought to have mentioned that steamers ply in various directions in the harbour of Rio. Our friend proposed a trip up the country, which would last during the few days we had to spare. We started in one of the smallest of the steamers, and went up the River Macacu. One thing struck us—a boat laden with slaves, which had been landed on the opposite shore, and were being smuggled into the city. We went on shore at the small town of Porto Sampaio, and thence on mule back about fifteen miles, to the country-house of a Brazilian gentleman, our friend’s friend. We four had a room to ourselves—a large, roughly built apartment. Scarcely were we all in bed, and the light out, when, just as I had dropped asleep, down came something on my nose. I started up, and there appeared to be a tremendous clattering and pattering about the room.

“I say, Harry, what are you heaving at me?” sung out Jerry, springing up also.

“Rather, what are you throwing at me?” I retorted.

“Hillo! what’s the matter?” cried the doctor; “I felt something soft slip through my fingers—animals of some sort—what can they be?”

“Only rats!” said our friend, awoke by our exclamations. “I know they are somewhat numerous in this house.”

We all sat up, and began shouting and striking right and left; but the rats did not mind us a bit. At last the doctor lighted a lucifer match, and away scampered at least a hundred rats into the holes from whence they had come out. We thought that we were to have rest, but as soon as darkness and silence were restored, out they all came again, and made as much hubbub as before. Jerry and I kept knocking about us to little purpose, till we both fell back asleep; and all night long I dreamed that I was fighting with a host of black men on the coast of Africa. When the morning broke, they scampered away like so many evil spirits, leaving their marks, however, behind them. They had committed no little mischief also. They had gnawed through our friend’s shoes and the doctor’s leather cigar-case; they had carried off Jerry’s leather braces—the remains of which were found near one of the holes—and the front strap of my cap. We all had suffered, but, as Jerry remarked, as they had left us our noses and toes it did not much signify. They infest the country in all directions, we were told.

The estate we were on produced chiefly sugar. The milk by which the canes are crushed consisted of three vertical wooden rollers worked by mules. The most interesting subject connected with our trip was the cultivation and preparation of the mandioca. The chief produce is called farinha: the slaves are fed almost entirely on it. A field of mandioca, when ripe, looks something like a nursery of young plants. Each plant grows by itself, with a few palmated leaves only at the top. The stem is about an inch in diameter at the base, and six or seven feet long. A bud appears at nearly every inch of the otherwise smooth stem. These plants give forth tubers of irregular shape, in substance like a parsnip, about six inches long and four thick. The tubers, after being scraped and rinsed, are ground, or rather grated against a wheel with a brass grater as a tire. One slave turns the wheel, and another presses the root against it. The pulp is then put into bags and pressed. The matter, which resembles cheese-cake in consistence, is then rubbed through a wire sieve and thrown into shallow copper pans moderately heated. After being stirred up, it quickly dries, and the produce is not unlike oatmeal. The juice pressed out is very poisonous by itself. It is, however, collected in pans, when a beautifully white substance is precipitated to the bottom. This substance is tapioca, so largely used in puddings at home. To plant a field of mandioca, the stems of the old plants are cut into bits about four inches long, and stuck in the ground. They quickly take root, and, sending forth shoots from the buds, are in two years fit again to dig up. The mandioca is called cassava in some countries. The press used by the Indians is a simple and most ingenious contrivance. It is made by the Indians wherever the plant is grown. It is a basket made of fine split cane loosely plaited; in shape, a tube five feet long and five inches in diameter at the mouth, and narrowing somewhat at the bottom. A strong loop is left at each end. To use it, first it is wetted, and then a man holding the mouth presses the other end against the ground till it is half its former height. A long smooth stick is now inserted down the middle, and the pulp is packed tightly round it till the basket is full. It is then hung to a beam or branch of a tree by a loop at the mouth, while a heavy weight is attached to one at the bottom, till the basket has assumed its original tube-like form and length, and the whole of the liquid has been pressed out of the mass of mandioca.

One of the most curious features in a Brazilian forest is the vegetable cordage, or sipos, which hang down from every branch, like slack ropes from the rigging of a ship. Jerry and I several times could not resist having a good swing on them, while the doctor was hunting about for his specimens. Their roots are in the ground. They climb up a tree, then hang over a branch and descend, and often twist upward again by their own stem, to descend more than once again to the ground. We were shown the nests of some diminutive bees. The nests are not so large as a turkey’s egg, while the bodies of the bees are but little thicker than the bodies of mosquitoes. The comb is of a dark brown colour, and the construction of the nest is somewhat like that of ants. The only entrance is a

small hole, at the mouth of which they construct a tube turning upwards. This is regularly closed up at night, so that no damp can enter, and it is never opened till the sun has been some time up. The bees have no stings, but they are very brave, and will drive away the ordinary bee from their hives. A sketch which the doctor took, and finished up afterwards on board, will afford a better idea of the vegetation of a Brazilian forest than any verbal account I can give.

I might go on indeed for hours describing all the wonders we saw during our short trip. Our last excursion was to the Corcovado Mountains, whence we looked down on the blue waters of the superb harbour of Rio, surrounded by sandy beaches and numerous snow-white buildings, peeping from amid the delicate green foliage which covers the bases of the neighbouring mountains, and creeps up almost to their summits; while the mountains are on every side broken into craggy and castellated peaks of every varied shape; the whole forming a not easily forgotten panorama. Once more we were on board and under weigh. The bay, as we sailed out, was full of vessels; but the flag of Old England was not, as I should have supposed, among the most numerous. With a fair wind we passed out of the harbour, and stood along the coast to the southward.

Chapter Five.

Adventures in the Falklands.

The reason, I believe, why sailors in a well-regulated ship are generally so happy, is, that they are never allowed to have an idle moment. Mr Renshaw was always finding something for the people to do; and when that work was finished, there was something else of equal importance to be done. The picture our deck presented on one day will serve for that seen on most days in fine weather: on one side the spun-yarn winches were going, manufacturing spun-yarn out of old junk—a never-ending source of employment; Mr Pincott and his mates were busily at work building a boat on the other; the sail-maker and his gang were repairing some of the sails, and making light ones for the gentle breezes of the Pacific; while Fleming and his crew were laying up rope, and the rest of the watch were knotting yarns, making sinnet, wad-bags, wads, chafing gear of all descriptions, such as worming, parcelling, roundings, spun-yarn, rope-yarn, marline, seizing, stuffs, and service of all kinds; the names of which things alone are, I suspect, sufficient to puzzle a landsman, so I will say no more about them. Aft were Captain Frankland, with one of the mates and Gerard and I, taking observations of the sun,—an employment in which, as I began to understand it, I felt great interest. It struck me that, as far as I saw, Captain Frankland took very little concern about the ship. He seldom spoke a word to any of the crew, and only occasionally on points of duty while on deck, to the mates. I soon found, however, that no man could more effectually exert himself, when his exertions were required. Hitherto there had been nothing to call forth his energies. With light winds and calm seas, he had better employment in his cabin. That very day a change came over the even tenor of our lives; scarcely were our sextants stowed away, when, as the captain was walking the deck, I saw him frequently turn his glance to the westward. There, over the land, in a moment it seemed, arose a bank of clouds, which every instant grew denser and denser, and came rushing toward us across the sky.

“All hands shorten sail!” shouted Captain Frankland, stopping suddenly in his walk. Quick as the word, the work in which everybody was engaged was stowed away, and up jumped the crew, all life and activity. Away they flew aloft—royals were sent down, top-gallant-sails were furled, and the yards were braced so as to take the wind on the starboard-tack. We had had the wind from the north-east, but it now fell almost a dead calm, and the lower sails began to flap idly against the masts; and under our topsails we waited the coming of the squall. It did not long delay; on it came in its majestic fury. On one side of us the whole sky was covered with a dense mass of threatening clouds, while the sea below appeared torn up into sheets of hissing foam; on the other, the sky was blue, and the water smooth as a polished mirror. There was not a breath of air where the ship lay. Then down on us came the fierce squall with its utmost fury—rain, hail, and wind united—over heeled the stout ship as if she had been a mere cockleshell, till her gunwale was buried in the water. I thought she would never rise again, but I kept my eye on Captain Frankland, who seemed as cool and collected as if nothing unusual was happening. With speaking-trumpet in hand, and holding on by the weather-rail, he ordered the mizen-topsail to be furled. The lee maintopsail braces were then slackened, to shiver the maintopsail; and the wind being taken out of it, the whole pressure was thrown on the headsail; the helm was then put a-starboard, and her bow paying off, righting herself, away flew the ship rapidly before the gale on an even keel. The foaming seas, rising every moment higher and higher, coursed each other up under our stern, as if angry at our escaping their power. Dark clouds were above us; dark hissing seas on every side; the thunder roared, the lightning flashed brightly: so terrific did the scene appear to me, that I thought at times that we must be hurrying to destruction. I concealed my feelings, for Gerard took the matter very coolly, and he was not likely to spare me if I expressed any unwarrantable alarm. After we had run on before the gale for some time, it began to moderate. We had all the time been going out of our course; so, to avoid losing more ground, the captain gave the order to heave the ship to. I had never before seen this operation performed. The fore-topsail was first furled, and the maintopsail, which was closely reefed, and the fore-topmast staysail were the only sails set. “Brace up the main yard!” was the next order given. “Now, down with the helm!” cried the captain, watching a favourable opportunity when a heavy sea had passed us. The ship felt the influence of the wind, and came up with her head to the westward; and then she rode, rising easily to the tops of the seas, and gliding slowly down into the valleys—their wild, foaming, hissing crests rushing furiously by her, but not a drop of water coming on board. I had never pictured to myself a scene so awfully grand as that which I now beheld in perfect security. On one side the waters rose in a wall high above the deck, and looked as if about to overwhelm us; while the next instant we were looking down into a vale of waters of depth so great, that it seemed, if we slipped into it, we should never again struggle upwards. When summoned to dinner, I went below with the expectation that I should be unable to have a mouthful; instead of which, there appeared to be very little more motion than usual, so easily rode the ship; and I could scarcely persuade myself that I had but just left a scene of such wild confusion on deck. The gale did not last more than twelve hours, and the ship was then once more put on her proper course for the Falkland Islands.

“Land ho! land ho!” was shouted one forenoon from aloft, with the usual prolonged cry. The Falkland Islands were in sight, and the land seen as we drew nearer, I found, was that about Cape Bougainville. We stood on, and next we made out the rugged hills above Berkley Sound, and then got close to the dark brown cliffs of Macbride’s Head, with hundreds of seals lying on the sands and rocks below them. We could hear the roar of the beasts as they looked up at us, indignant, I thought, at being disturbed by our approach; but Mr Brand told me that, fierce as they looked, they are a very harmless race, and easily captured. On the downs above were numerous cattle feeding, which gave us the idea that we were approaching some civilised part of the world. Passing Berkley Sound with a stiff breeze, which rushed out of it, we stood on for Mount Low, and then beat up Port William, which has a line of sand hills on one side of it, and Stanley Harbour at the end. Although the day was fine, the appearance of the country was not very attractive; for there are no trees—rocks, and sand hills, and tussac grass, and barren heights, being the chief features. We dropped anchor opposite Stanley, the capital of the settlement. Above a line of piers and quays appeared a double row of neat white cottages, inhabited by the pensioners who were sent out to assist in founding the colony. Round and about them are other houses and cottages, extending along the shores of the bay, and sprinkled on the sides of a gentle slope. They are generally of light tints, which contrast well with the dark background of the hill beyond, and give the place a pretty appearance. Further up is the church, not a very ecclesiastical-looking building; and beyond again, the cemetery, which has a neat chapel attached to it. The Government House is a long, low cottage edifice, which looks well from the harbour; and on the east of the town are some extensive stores, belonging to the Falkland Island Company, with their small fleet of vessels in front of it. On the west of the town is the Government Dock-yard, with block-house, workshops, guard-house, and stores, all neatly railed in. The surrounding country consisting of slight elevations, either rocky or covered with tussac grass, is not attractive. I could not help looking at the place with great interest, as the first infant British settlement I had seen; and I thought less of what it then was than of what it might become, under good management. The last idea was suggested to me, I must own, by Mr Brand.

The chief promenade in Stanley is called Ross Road, running right and left of the principal street for about two miles. On one side of it are built a number of houses facing the water, and among them are two or more hotels, of some pretensions. Behind this road are some smaller streets, inhabited by labouring people, Spanish Gauchos, and others. There are, perhaps, rather more than a hundred houses in the town, and between 400 and 500 inhabitants, including boatmen, stray sailors, Gauchos, and other wanderers. Several of the houses have gardens which produce a fair supply of vegetables, and beef is to be had in abundance; but as the colony produces very little else in the way of food, the inhabitants are somewhat hard up in that respect. The islands alternately belonged to England and Spain, till, in 1774, they were finally

evacuated by the latter power, though it is only of late years that they have been systematically colonised by England. The first governor, Lieutenant Moody, arrived there in 1842, when the site of the intended town was changed from Port Louis to Port Stanley. As a proof of the value of the islands, Mr Lafosse, a British merchant at Monte Video, paid 60,000 pounds to have the right over all cattle of every description to be found on the East Falklands, for six years and a half. From what I heard, the climate is very healthy. It is at times windy, but in summer it is as mild and dry as the south of England. In winter the cold is never severe, and only at intervals of several years does snow fall to any depth, so as to risk the destruction of cattle. The most remarkable production is the tussac, a gigantic species of grass, which grows to the height of ten feet, and is capable of sheltering and concealing herds of cattle and horses. The core of this grass is of so nutritious a nature, that people have been known to live for months on it, and to retain their health. From this cause the animals on the islands grow to a great size, and their flesh is of a particularly fine flavour. The great object for which the settlement was founded, was to afford a place where ships might repair, and to supply those going round Cape Horn, or returning home that way, with fresh provisions. It is also under contemplation to make it a penal settlement, for which it is in many respects particularly adapted, if sufficient employment for the convicts can be found.

Gerard and I were very anxious to get on shore to enjoy some of the sport we had heard so much about. “Wouldn’t it be fine to kill a fat bull, who would make nothing of tossing one twelve feet up in the air if he could but catch a fellow on the tip of his horns?” said he, rubbing his hands.

I agreed with him; but we had little hopes of having our wishes gratified, when a gentleman from the shore offered to give us a trip round in one of the Company’s schooners to the West Falklands, where she was going to procure cattle. As the ship was to remain here some days to have one or two slight defects made good, and to take in a supply of beef, fresh and salt, Captain Frankland allowed us to accept the offer, Mr Brand going to look after us. Away dashed the little schooner, the Sword-Fish, having a fine fresh breeze, with as merry a party on board as ever put to sea. There was our friend Mr Nathaniel Burkett, and his friend Mr Jonathan Kilby, both keen sportsmen, and up to all sorts of fun; and Gerard and I, and the master of the vessel, Tom Cribb by name, who, though not a good shot, seeing that he had but one eye, and that had a terrific squint, knew every inch of the coast, and exactly where we were likely to find sport; and then there was Cousin Silas, who was a first-rate shot, though he did not throw away his words by talking about the matter. Pleasant as our trip promised to be, many a gale has to be encountered off those wild islands, and dangers not a few. We, however, instead of standing out to sea and going round all, took a course, well-known to our skipper, among the numerous isles and islets grouped round the larger Falkland. Their names I cannot pretend to remember. At last we dropped anchor in a snug cove where we were to remain for the night. We, the sportsmen, were to have a boat left us, and we were to land, while the schooner ran on to a station some way further. We had one dog with us, Old Surley by name, belonging to Mr Kilby—as brave an animal as ever flew at a bull’s neck, for he feared neither bull nor beast of any sort. With our guns, plenty of ammunition, and a stock of provisions, we pulled up a creek where we could leave the boat in safety, and landed. We first climbed a rock on the shore, whence we could look about us and take a survey of the island. It was of considerable size. We saw that we should have no difficulty in penetrating across it, through the high tussac grass which almost entirely covered the ground. We first advanced together. We soon came to some curious green mounds, covered with a velvety moss, about two feet high and nine in circumference. I happened to sit down on one to tie my shoe, and it made a most comfortable seat.

“Do you know what that is?” said Mr Burkett, giving it a blow with the butt end of his gun, which broke the moss to pieces as if it had been a huge toadstool. The mossy coat was an inch and a half in thickness, and the whole interior appeared filled with wide-spreading miniature fir-trees. Every stalk, of which there were a great number, was edged with diminutive leaves like those of the fir; and the tops were sprinkled with little pieces of resin, brown outside and white within, some not larger than a pin’s-head, and others half the size of a filbert. We afterwards came to some mounds where the plants had pushed through the green moss, and their leaves having slightly expanded, they looked like miniature myrtles. Instead of going directly inland, we made our way along the shore among the penguin grass. This grows to the height of ten feet, on the top of clumps of decayed vegetable matter, forming large hillocks, which made the shore look as if it had been covered with a coppice of underwood. We took our way through it, often being hid from each other by the high grass, and had not gone far when a loud roar saluted our ears. Jerry and I were together, but we had lost sight of the rest of the party. I instinctively drew back, and he looked very much as if he would have run away, had he known where to run to. He says he felt very brave though.

“What’s that?” I exclaimed.

“A lion!” replied Jerry, looking uncomfortable.

“A wild boar,” said I; “there are no lions here.”

“A big bull, perhaps,” cried my companion. “I hope his horns are not sharp!”

Our guns were loaded only with small shot, so that we could hope to make but little impression on the body of a wild animal. The roar was repeated, and there was a loud rustling among the penguin grass on a mound near us. The grass moved rapidly. We looked towards it. Presently the huge head of a ferocious-looking animal appeared glaring at us from among the grass. We shouted lustily for help to our friends.

“Let’s run, it is a lion—I told you so,” cried Jerry; “no time to lose, if we don’t wish to be eaten up!” Suiting the action to the word, Jerry turned round, and, in attempting to escape, tumbled over some of the tangled stalks, and lay sprawling on the ground, while I endeavoured to lift him up. The huge monster all the time came roaring towards us, Jerry and I shouting out,—“Help, help, help! a lion, a lion!” In another moment I expected to feel his claws on my shoulder.

“A sea-lion, my lads!” cried Mr Jonathan Kilby, who at that moment appeared close to us from among the high grass. “Jump up and attack him.”

The beast having no legs, and being able only to make progress with his fins, had not advanced so far as we expected. Our friend, having in the meantime drawn the small shot from his gun, and put a ball instead, fired at the head of the beast. The ball entered and stopped his further progress, and there he lay, helplessly floundering about, and roaring more lustily than ever. This gave Jerry and me time to recover ourselves, and to put bullets into our guns, with which we soon put an end to the sufferings of the poor beast. He was, we found, a species of seal, about eight feet long, of a yellowish-brown colour, and with a large mane, covering his neck and shoulders. He looked as if he would prove an ugly customer in the water; but as he had only flappers for front legs, with very small nails on them, and only a tail instead of hind-legs, a person on shore could very easily keep out of his way, and Jerry and I felt rather foolish at the fright he had put us into. We had achieved our victory before Mr Brand and Mr Burkett found their way up to us. As he lay not far from the boat, we settled to take his skin on our return. Going on, we reached a lake of some size, from which vast numbers of teal got up. Jerry and I shot several, which made us very proud; and the rest of the party tagged thirty or more between them, so that they were pretty well loaded. Before long, we again managed to get separated from the rest, but we had grown so satisfied with our prowess that we were indifferent to consequences. We felt that we were not likely to starve even if we lost our way. I was just going to fire at a teal, when Jerry pulled my arm, and pointing to an opening in the distance among the clumps of grass, I saw the head of a huge bull not fifty yards from us, and, as it seemed, fast asleep. Now was the time to show what we could do, so we withdrew our small shot and loaded with ball. Like North American Indians on a war-trail, we crawled stealthily towards him. We halted, and resting our guns on a bank, fired together.

“I am certain I hit him,” cried Jerry.

“So am I,” I added—though I was surprised that the beast did not move.

“We’ve killed him!” cried Jerry, as on we rushed, expecting to find a rich prize. He was lying down when we hit him, we saw that. We kept him in sight for some way, then we found our further progress somewhat impeded by the bogginess of the ground. At last we were brought to a stand-still about ten paces from our victim. Jerry gave a blank look at me, and I looked at him, and burst out laughing. The poor beast was not alive, certainly, but we were innocent of his death. He had evidently got into the bog in wet weather, and in vain struggling to free himself, had died of starvation. His head was stretched out, as if hopelessly longing for the rich food he saw growing not thirty yards from him, which yet he could not reach. All around the morass were the hoof-marks of his comrades, as if they had been watching him in his dying struggles, scampering round and round, perhaps with terror, or perhaps thinking how they might help him.

“At all events,” exclaimed Jerry, “we may say we hit a huge bull and left him as dead as mutton; and there’s no great harm if the rest go back to look for him. We can easily point them out the place by the side of the lake.”

A little further on we reached a smaller lake which was swarming with birds—geese, ducks, divers, and other wild-fowl. Among them were several swans, beautifully white, with black necks, which kept swimming gracefully about like the great lords of the feathered population among whom they moved. Jerry and I were very hungry, so we sat ourselves down to take a nibble at our biscuit and cheese, not wishing to disturb them till our friends should come up to help us to slaughter them. We had sat a little while, and opened our wallet, when, what was our surprise to see the birds swimming together, and landing in numbers below our feet! Slowly some advanced, as if to reconnoitre us, and then others came on, till some hundreds were within thirty yards of us, evidently wondering what strange animals we could be. Then they began to talk to each other in a most strange discordant cackle, their voices growing louder and louder, as if they were disputing on the subject, and could not settle it to their satisfaction. We lay back and watched them, highly diverted. Nearer and nearer they approached, talking away furiously all the time in tones of wonder and surprise, more than in those of anger.

“I know what they are saying,” whispered Jerry. “Well, these are two strange beings! How could they have come here? They are not seals, that’s certain, for they have legs; but they don’t look as if they could swim with those long, thin projections instead of flappers; and assuredly they can’t fly, for they have no wings. How can they feed themselves, for they have no bills? and see what great ugly round things they’ve got for heads. Evidently they cannot dive or live under water. They are not fish, then, nor birds; for if those are feathers growing on their backs, they are very rugged and dirty. Well, we pity them; for they are strange beasts, that’s a fact.” This quaint notion of Jerry’s tickled my fancy so much that I burst into a loud fit of laughter, which somewhat startled our flock of visitors; while Jerry, sitting up, hove a stick he had carried all day made fast to his side in among them. The missile did not, however, make them turn tail; but, instead, they clustered thickly round it, and, as if it had been some impertinent intruder, began pecking at it furiously. As we could not carry the birds away, with a praiseworthy self-denial we abstained from firing. When, however, we jumped suddenly up and clapped our hands, away they scuttled at a great rate, chattering and quacking louder than ever. We hoped, however, to reward ourselves for our present self-denial, by returning with all the party to have a shot at them in the evening. After this we walked on for a mile, and had begun to wonder what had become of our companions, and to be a little anxious at having missed them, when we were startled at hearing a loud roar not three hundred yards from us. It was very different from that of the sea-lion, and we too soon recognised it as the voice of an angry bull. Again the bull bellowed, and this time several other bulls lent their voices to the terror-inspiring chorus. We ran to the top of the highest mound near us, and thence we made out five or six bulls, with their tails up in the air, rushing towards us, following one whose voice we first heard. The spot on which we stood afforded us no protection, for the beasts would have rushed up it in a moment, but a couple of hundred yards on was a rock with steep sides, just rising above the grass; and our only chance of safety was to climb it before the horns of the first bull had reached our backs. Had he come directly on, as fast as his legs could carry him, this we should have

had no chance of doing; but instead of that, he every now and then stuck his sharp ugly-looking horns into the grass, and tossed it above his head, as if to show how he intended to treat us when he caught us. We rushed on with our eyes fixed on the rock, not venturing to look behind, and expecting every moment to feel his horns at our backs. We kept a tight hold of our guns, but unfortunately dropped our wallets and the game we had shot. On we ran and on came the bull; the rock was a dozen yards before us, and he was not much further off in our rear. We sprang on; Jerry tripped over a lump of decayed grass, but he picked himself up, and, crying to me not to stop, followed me. The face of the rock was too perpendicular directly in front to allow me to get up it, but a little to the right it was more broken. I sprang towards the place, and scrambled up. Jerry reached the foot of the rock; the bull was making for the right side, where he had seen me climb up. In another moment he would have pinned Jerry to the rock, or tossed him up to me.

“Help me! help me, Harry!” he sung out, with good reason dreadfully alarmed. I had just time to throw myself down at full length, and, by loaning over the rock, to seize his hand, before the bull, seeing him, with a terrific bellow made a full butt at him. With a strength I did not think myself capable of exerting, I hauled him up to me, the bull’s horns actually passing between his feet! In his hurry, however, he dropped his gun at the foot of the rock, and the bull vented his rage and disappointment by giving it several butts as it lay on the ground; and I was in great hopes that he would strike the lock and make it go off—it would have astonished him not a little. Jerry almost fainted with the fright the brute had given him, but he very speedily recovered, and then we looked round to see what sort of a place we were on. We found that it was, fortunately, inaccessible on all sides; so we returned with much greater composure to watch the proceedings of our bovine enemies. The other bulls had now come up, with their tails in the air, bellowing at the top of their voices, and tearing the ground up on all sides, and throwing the grass over their heads. They appeared for some reason to be fearfully enraged against us. There were seven bulls altogether. Placed in the convenient position we were, we agreed that we could easily shoot them, and thus raise the siege; but on examining the contents of our pockets, we found that we had only got five bullets between us. Now, supposing every bullet to have had in this case its billet, and to have mortally wounded an animal, that would have left two unprovided for; and even with two we had no desire to contend on the level ground. Still we determined to do what we could; so I loaded and took a steady aim at the beast which had led on the attack. The bullet struck him on the head; but his skull was thick, and though it wounded him severely, it did not enter his brain. The

pain made him tear up the ground more furiously, and bellow louder than before. Jerry said he would try the next time; so I loaded, and he took the gun. I thought he was going to make a good shot, but he was nervous, and the bullet only struck the beast’s shoulder, nor did it increase the sweetness of his temper. We had thus only three bullets, and all our enemies as vicious as ever. The most important thing we agreed to be done was to get rid of the leader; so I took the gun again, and carefully loading, waited till he made a tilt right up to the face of the rock, really looking as if he had been going to try and leap up at us. I tried to be perfectly cool, and fired. The bullet struck him, I was certain of that, but it did not kill him, so I supposed that it had glanced off over his head.

“I won’t miss again,” I cried, loading as rapidly as I could. “One of our last two bullets must do the deed.”

Our enemy, on receiving his last wound, turned off and made a rapid circuit round the rock, to discover, we concluded, if there was any place by which he could get up at us. Finding none, he returned. As soon as he appeared, I took a steady aim, resting the barrel on a lump of rock—I fired. Roaring with fury, he bounded along towards the rock. I thought he would almost have reached us. Suddenly he stopped—down went his head, and over he rolled close under the rock, and there he lay stone dead! We both of us simultaneously raised a loud shout of victory; but, as Jerry remarked, we began to crow rather too soon, for the other six bulls, no way daunted at the fall of their leader, continued raging round about us as furiously as ever. We had only one bullet left, and with that we could scarcely hope even to settle one of them. We sat ourselves down watching our enemies, hoping that they would grow tired of waiting for us and go away; but they seemed by no means disposed to move. Never did a beleaguering army watch more pertinaciously round a hard pressed garrison than did our formidable enemies watch to toss us in the air. In vain we stood up and looked around on every side for our friends, as far as our somewhat limited range of vision extended. There was not a sign of them. They, too, would have become not a little anxious about us, except Cousin Silas thought we were still with Mr Kilby, and the latter gentleman supposed we had joined our other friends. If so, unless they met they would probably not come to look for us. As we had taken but a light luncheon, we began to feel very hungry, and to cast longing glances at our satchels and the teal, which lay at some distance from the rock, but which we dared not attempt to got. Not ten feet below where we sat was the bull. Jerry looked over the rock—

“I should so like to have a juicy beef-steak out of you, old fellow!” said he, addressing the dead animal. “I say, Harry, don’t you think we could manage to get it? The other brutes will certainly grow hungry before long; and, as they don’t want to eat us, while they are picking up their dinners I shall have plenty of time to get down and cut out a few slices. I have my knife, and I sharpened it only yesterday.”

I had mine also; and, as I highly approved of his suggestion, we resolved to wait a favourable opportunity for our exploit. Raw meat was not, however, to our taste; so we agreed to try and light a fire and cook our steaks. There was plenty of dry moss and grass on the rock, so we set to work and collected all that we could find, so that we soon had a famous heap of it, sufficient almost to roast the whole animal. As we expected, the bulls, after looking at us for some time, feeling the calls of hunger, began to lower their tails, and putting their heads to the ground, commenced to munch the tender grass.

“Now, if these beasts had been lions and tigers, the more hungry they grew the more anxious they would have been to get at us. It’s lucky all animals are not carnivorous.”

Having delivered himself of this sagacious remark, Jerry said he was ready to turn butcher. We waited, however, till the bulls had got a little further off, and then he descended on the carcass of our victim, while I bent over the rock, as before, to help him up should they appear inclined to tilt at him. Enough steaks were cut to dine half-a-dozen men; and then, as the bulls did not observe him, grown brave from impunity, he went on further and picked up his gun. This he handed up to me, and it was not much the worse for the butting it had got. The bulls were still feeding quietly, apparently having forgot all about us.

“I say, Harry, I think some biscuits, and rum and water, would not be bad things with our steaks, not to speak of the teal,” said he, looking up at me. “What do you advise? May I venture to run for the satchels and some of the game?”

I agreed with him that it would be very desirable to have them, and offered to accompany him.

“No, no,” he answered, with a knowledge of generalship for which I had not given him credit; “do you load the gun, and stand by to cover me if I am pursued; you will be ready also to help me up the rock as before. If I were to take your place with the gun up there, the chances are that I should shoot you instead of the bull, and that would not do. I’ll go, never fear.” Jerry, as will be seen, was a creature of impulse. He was as brave as any one when he had time for reflection, and saw the necessity for coolness. As soon as I had loaded the gun and got ready, keeping his eyes on the bulls, he cautiously advanced towards our satchels. If a bull lifted his head, he stopped, and crouched down to the ground. Then he advanced again on all-fours; and so by slow degrees he worked himself up to the spot at which he aimed. He seized the things, and began to return as slowly as before. It would have been well if he had continued his caution, but when he had got about half way on his return, he took it into his head to run, laughing loudly at the success of his exploit. His figure moving alone, and his voice, roused the bulls. Up went their tails, and a terrific bellow made his laughter cease in a moment. I shouted to him to run faster. On he scampered, shouting loudly, “Fire, Harry, if you see one of them going to butt!” I was all ready, and he bravely held fast our property. The bull nearest to him, wildly whisking his tail and bellowing louder than ever, was close to him. I was in doubt whether or not to fire, lest I should still more infuriate the animal should I wound without killing him. In another moment I saw that there was no alternative. His horns were close to Jerry’s back, and in an instant he would have had him high up in the air. I shouted to Jerry to jump on one side. He followed my advice with wonderful coolness. I fired. My bullet hit the bull in the right eye. Down went his head, tearing into the ground. He rushed on almost close up to the rock, bellowing furiously, ploughing up the earth with his horns; and then, as if he had been making a voluntary summerset, he rolled right over, and was dead. It was indeed a triumph. I had no time to think about it then. On rushed Jerry, for the other bulls were coming up fast. Throwing aside my gun, I helped Jerry up the rock with the things he had so courageously recovered at the moment the other beasts were up to him.

“Bravo, Harry!” he sung out; “you’ve saved my life and shot the bull; you are a capital fellow!”

I proposed that we would not compliment each other till we had lighted our fire and cooked our steaks. As we had now some teal, we added a couple to our repast. We had some lucifers, so we soon made a glorious fire. Having plucked our teal, we poked them under the ashes, while, in true sportsman fashion, we toasted the steaks at the end of our ramrod. Having also pepper and salt, we had every reason to be satisfied with our repast.

“I say, I wish those other fellows were here,” said Jerry. “It would be great fun if they would come, thinking we were stuck in a bog, or spiked on the horns of bulls, and find us so jollily eating away up here. Here’s to your health, Harry. May you always make as good shots as you did just now, when you saved me from the butt of that beast’s head! Hillo! have a bit of your brother?” cried he, holding a piece of the steak at the end of his ramrod down towards one of the bulls, which came snuffing up towards us.

Thus we went on laughing and joking, perfectly contented, and thinking only of the present moment. We forgot that our fuel would soon be expended; that the position we occupied would be a very unpleasant one on which to pass a cold and perhaps rainy night; and that our friends would become really alarmed should we not make our appearance at the boat. These considerations did not begin to weigh with us till we had finished our dinner. When, however, we had time for reflection, we were not quite so well contented with ourselves.

“This is very good fun,” I remarked, “but I should like to know how we are to get away unless these beasts of bulls choose to raise the siege.”

“They’ll not do that in a hurry,” answered Jerry. “We must wait till night-time, when they can’t see us, and then make a run for it.”

“But how are we to find our way to the boat in the dark?” I asked. “I scarcely know whereabouts she lies.”

“To the westward, then, I think,” said he. “If the sky is clear we may steer by the stars, and we shall manage to find our way.”

I cannot say that I felt as hopeful as my friend professed to do, still there appeared to be no other means of escaping the bulls, and getting back to the boat. Should we wait till the morning the brutes would probably espy us, and run a tilt at us as before. We had provisions to last us for many days, but we had no liquid, with the exception of a little rum and water, which, although we had carefully husbanded it, was very low in the flask. A breeze had sprung up from the east, and it was already rather cold on the top of the rock; so, making up our fire, we sat down by it. We were amused at the way in which the bulls occasionally came and had a look at us; as much as, Jerry said, to ask, “Well, when are you coming down to let us give you a toss? We don’t intend to go away till we’ve tried it on. We are at home here, you know, so we are in no hurry.” Provoked, as he declared, at their impudence, he at last seized a bundle of burning grass which, he had twisted into a torch, and when a bull came near he hove it at his head. The flaming mass caught on his horns, and certainly had the effect of making him turn tail, and rush bellowing off from the rock; but it had another effect, and a most

disastrous one, on which we had not calculated. Galloping on, the animal very soon freed himself from his burning head-dress by sending it into the middle of a large clump of tussac grass.

“Hurrah! the brute has made a famous bonfire!” exclaimed Jerry, clapping his hands as he saw the bright flames burst out from the easily ignited grass.

“Larger than we may bargain for,” I remarked, as in another instant, fanned by the wind, the fire began to run along the ground, and a neighbouring clump broke forth into a furious blaze.

“Well, that is a bonfire!” cried Jerry, still not comprehending the extent of the mischief he had commenced; but it was not long before he also saw with me what was going to occur. On went the fire, running along the ground as if it had been strewed with gunpowder—then for an instant playing round some tall clump, out of which directly afterwards forked flames darted forth, and quickly reduced it to ashes, while thick volumes of smoke curled upwards to the sky. No sooner did the bulls scent the smoke than up went their tails, and with loud bellows they dashed off through the grass, trampling it down in their fright.

“Now is our time!” I exclaimed; “the siege is raised; let us make the best of our way to the boat.”

Following the impulse of the moment, we seized our guns and the birds we had shot, and leaping off the rock, began to run in an opposite direction to that which the bulls had taken.

“Hurrah! the bulls are off. There they go like mad things, with their tails up in the air!” exclaimed Jerry, as we ran on.

“I did it finely—didn’t I? That bonfire was a capital idea. We’ve killed two, and the rest won’t be in such a hurry to butt at people in future.”

On we scampered, but we had not gone twenty paces before I seized Jerry’s arm and came to a stand-still, looking with dismay at the scene before us. The flames, blown by the wind, had caught the neighbouring clumps of tall grass. Dry as tinder, they were blazing up furiously. Our further progress was completely barred by the fierce flames which were rapidly

extending on every side, and even then running along the ground towards us. We had already passed over a quantity of dry grass which, in another moment, might be on fire, and then all hope of escape would be lost.

“Back, back!” I exclaimed—“to the rock, to the rock! It is our only place of safety.”

With frantic speed we rushed back, the fierce flames, like hissing serpents, close on our heels. Hotter and hotter became the air—more dense and suffocating the smoke. Blinded and confused by it, we could scarcely find our way. A trip over the tangled grass-stalks we knew would be fatal. The flames were already scorching our backs. On either side we saw them leaping upwards round the tall tufts of dry herbage. We shrieked with pain and terror. The rock was reached, but to scale its steep sides seemed beyond our power. With a strength I did not believe myself to possess, I seized Jerry and hoisted him up. Grasping the clumps of grass and rugged lumps of rock, he scrambled to the top, and then leaning over, lent me his hand, and dragged me after him. Horror of what might be my fate enabled me to do what I otherwise could not have accomplished. At the same moment that I reached the top of the rock, the whole surrounding surface of the ground below became a sea of raging fire—leaping, tossing, hissing, roaring, the flames blown here and there by the wind; it was like the ocean in a storm. The devouring element came circling round us, the bright flames darting up like the tongues of huge serpents, eager to make us their prey. Bewildered by the scorching heat and black circles of smoke, we were nearly falling back into the fiery sea. I felt that I could not much longer retain my senses. I seized Jerry’s arm, and dragging him back, we retreated towards the centre of the rock. Even there the heat was so intense, and the smoke so suffocating, that it was with difficulty we could breathe.

“This is dreadful!” he exclaimed faintly. “Harry, I cannot stand it—I am going to die.” Saying this, he sunk gasping to the ground. At the same time I felt an agonising sensation in my chest, and fully believing that the same fate as his was about to overtake me also, I dropped down senseless by his side.

Chapter Six.

Our boat adventure among the Falklands.

A current of cool air was passing over the face of the rock, I conclude, for, to my no small satisfaction, I discovered that I was alive, and could very speedily sit up. The spectacle which met my sight, however, was terrific in the extreme. Far as the eye could reach, the whole country was in a blaze, the flames crackling and hissing as they fiercely attacked clump after clump of the tall tussac grass, while the ground over which they had passed was charred and blackened, the globular masses of the bog balsam glowing with fervent heat. The flames also still burned brightly close round us, and I saw no means by which we could escape from our position. As soon as I had collected my thoughts, I remembered my companion. I found a few drops of spirits and water in our flask. I poured them down his throat. He looked up.

“What! am I still alive?” he muttered faintly. “Oh, the bulls and the fire! what’s going to happen next?”

“That is more than I can tell you exactly,” I answered; “but I suppose, in time, the fire will burn itself out, and then we may get away from this. Let us watch it meantime. It is worth looking at.”

In a short time, after a few sighs, Jerry lifted up his head from the ground, and sat up. The sight at which we gazed was especially grand when a fresh puff of wind sent the flames rolling along, and throwing up forked flashes, as they found new fuel to feed on. All the beasts it had encountered had, of course, fled, terror inspired, before it; but numberless young birds must have been destroyed, and we saw hundreds of their parents hovering over the spot where their nests had been, in the vain effort to save their offspring. Some we saw fall into the flames, either from having their wings singed from approaching too near, or by being suffocated with the smoke. When we saw the effects of the fire, we were doubly thankful that we had not attempted to make our way across the island. Once surrounded by that fiery furnace, we must have been, to a certainty, burned to death. Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to me.

“Jerry,” I exclaimed, “where can our friends be all this time? Is it possible that they can have been among the grass, and that the fire may have caught them up? Good Cousin Silas, and Mr Burkett, and jolly Mr Kilby. Poor fellows! we may be much better off than they are.”

“Oh, don’t talk about it,” said Jerry, shuddering; “it is too dreadful. I hope—I hope they will have got into a place of safety. Poor fellows! and it was all my doing. Do you know, Harry, I think we ought to pray for them. They may be requiring aid which no mortal man can give them.”

“Yes, indeed,” said I; “we ought—let us.” And together we knelt down on the hard rock, surrounded by the roaring flames, the thick black smoke curling around us, and sometimes almost suffocating us; and most earnestly did we offer up our prayers for the safety of our friends and for our own; and most thankful did we feel that we had been preserved from the dangers into which we had been thrown. I pity the person who is ashamed to acknowledge that he prays for protection both for himself and those he cares for. How should we go through the world without the protection of an all-merciful God? Often and often I have had proof of how utterly unable we are to take care of ourselves. Among the many blessings and advantages I have enjoyed is that of having had parents who taught me to pray, and not to be ashamed of praying. At school, when some poor, weak, foolish boys were afraid to kneel down by their bedsides to say their prayers, my brothers and I always persevered in the practice; and very soon we put to shame those who tried to interrupt us—and not only we ourselves, but other boys who did the same, were from that time never interfered with. Sure I am that our prayers were heard, and that the blessings we prayed for in earnestness and simplicity were given us. When we rose from our knees we found our courage much increased. The occasion had made us serious, and reminded us of our duties. I wish that it had been always so, that it were still always so; but even now as I write, I feel how much day after day I have left undone of what I ought to have done. Is it not so with all of us? Then what necessity is there for prayer for strength from above to enable us to do our duty. I say again, don’t be ashamed. Pray always; and if it is for your good, what you ask with faith God will most assuredly give you. He has said it, and his promises never fail.

Night was now approaching, but we could yet see no prospect of our escaping from our present position. The darkness, as it came on, served to brighten the effect of the fire; and as we gazed round on every side, as far as the eye could reach, we could see only the bright glare of the conflagration as it went on widening its circle round us. Now and then, as it reached spots more thickly covered with clumps of tussac grass, we could see the flames rushing upwards in pyramids of fire; but in other places a dense fierce glow could alone be perceived as the fiery wave receded from us. The sight we beheld was certainly a very grand one, and not easily to be forgotten; but our position was far from pleasant, and we would thankfully have found ourselves on board the schooner, or even in the boat under shelter of a sail. Our clothes were scorched, and so were our hands and feet; we were getting very hungry, and no fuel remained to enable us to cook our provisions, while now that the fire was removed from us the sharp wind made us feel very cold. When we considered the small area of the rock which had been at one time like an island amid the fiery ocean, we had more reason than ever to be thankful that we had escaped destruction. On further examination of the locality we discovered that the proximate cause of our escape was owing to the position of the rock near a piece of water, the extent of which we perceived when the fire in our neighbourhood had burned itself out. A narrow belt of grass only intervened between the rock and the water, the rest of the ground being a marsh covered with moist rushes, which did not burn. As the wind had for the greater part of the time blown over the pond, we were thus saved from suffocation. Had the rock been thickly surrounded by high grass, I think that we must have been burned to death; for, blown by the wind, the flames would have reached the very centre of the rock where we lay; and had we not been roasted, we should have been suffocated by the smoke. We crouched down on the rock, and sat for some time without speaking, watching the progress of the flames. The ground around us was still glowing with the remains of the fire. How long we had sat silent I do not know, when Jerry exclaimed, with animation—

“I say, Harry, why shouldn’t we have a steak off our old friend the bull? He must be pretty well done through by this time.”

“We will try him at all events,” said I; and descending the rock, we very soon had some fine slices of beef out of him. Finding that the ground was sufficiently cooled to allow our walking on it without burning our shoes, we advanced with our steaks stuck at the end of our ramrods to a glowing heap of bog balsam. Kicking it up with our feet, it soon sent forth a heat amply sufficient to cook our already half-roasted steaks. When they were done, collecting our guns, and bags, and game, we sat down on the lee side of the rock, and speedily silenced the cravings of hunger. We should have been glad of something to drink, but we were not yet sufficiently thirsty to induce us to get water from the pond. We felt very tired after all the exercise we had taken, and the excitement we had gone through during the day; but we were afraid to go to sleep lest the bulls should wander back, or something else happen we knew not what; besides, the anxiety about our friends kept us awake. At last, however, as we sat shoulder to shoulder under the rock, sleep stole imperceptibly on us, and I do not think that I ever enjoyed a sounder slumber than I did that night. When we awoke we rubbed our eyes, not knowing where we were. It was broad daylight. We rose to our feet, and after stretching our cramped limbs, we climbed to the top of the rock to look about us. The fire still raged over part of the island, which was enveloped in thick wreaths of black smoke; but to the west we caught sight of the blue sea, sparkling brightly in the sunshine, the intervening space being free from flames, though presenting a surface of black ashes, not a blade of grass apparently having escaped the conflagration. We thought, too, that we recognised a point round which the schooner had come just before dropping us in the boat. This encouraged us to hope that we might not be very far-distant from the place where we had landed. Without waiting, therefore, for breakfast, we determined at once to set off.

“Let us take some beef, though,” exclaimed Jerry; “it will prove that by our own prowess we have killed a bull at all events.”

The slices of beef were speedily cut, therefore, and strung on over our shoulders, and, like two young Robinson Crusoes, we set off in the hopes of soon relieving our anxiety about our friends. Nothing could be more melancholy than the appearance of the country through which we passed—cinders and blackness on every side. Every now and then we nearly tumbled into a glowing heap of bog balsam. It was sad, too, to see the number of nests, some with eggs in them, and others with young birds completely roasted; indeed, we passed many old birds burned to cinders. At last we struck the shore; but the face of nature had been so completely altered by the fire, that we were uncertain whether it was to the north or south of the creek at which we had landed. At last we agreed that we were to the south of the spot we wished to reach, so we stood along the beach to the north. We had not got far before we saw, a little way inland, where the grass had been, two black masses. We grasped each other’s arms. Were they the figures of men? Trembling with fear we hurried towards them. Though burned to cinders, still we had no difficulty in recognising them as two seals. The poor things, stupified and astonished by the fire, had probably had no time to waddle into the water before it had overtaken them. Perhaps seals, like fish, are attracted by fire, and the foolish animals had thought it a fine sight to behold. We had taken no breakfast, and were beginning to feel the want of food, but, at the same time, we were so thirsty that we did not feel as if we could eat. There was plenty of salt water; but that was not tempting, and would only have increased our suffering. Jerry sat himself down on the beach and said he could go no further; but I urged him to continue on, in the hopes that we might

come soon upon a stream of water. I remember even then being struck by the immense quantities of kelp which fringed the shore. The long leaves and roots, where left by the tide, looked like pieces of thick brown leather; and we agreed that cups and bowls, and all sorts of things, might be made out of it. Kelp is a species of sea-weed of gigantic size, and its sturdy stems have been known to reach the surface from a depth of nearly three hundred feet; some of the wide-spreading weeds looking like tanned hides extended on the surface. Its roots cling with a powerful gripe to the rocks, on which alone it grows. Some of the stems are sufficiently strong to moor a boat with. I had a knife, the handle of which was made by simply sticking the hilt of the blade into a piece of the root while it was wet;—when the kelp dried the blade was firmly fixed in it. We had not gone far when a rippling sound saluted our ears; and running on, we found a bright, sparkling stream gurgling out of the bank. We put our mouths down to the spot where it gushed out, and oh, how we enjoyed the cool pure draught! Nothing could then have been more gratifying to our taste. We found this gave a remarkably keen edge to our appetites; so we sat down by the stream and produced a piece of the steak we had cooked the previous evening, and the remains of our biscuit. While discussing them, Jerry exclaimed that he saw something galloping along the shore.

“Is it a bull?” I asked, thinking that we might have to decamp, and looking out for a place of safety.

“It comes on very fast,” he answered. I jumped up, for I was sitting a little below him, and looked in the direction he pointed.

“It’s old Surley! it’s old Surley!” I shouted. “Our friends cannot be far-off.”

On came the old dog, and was very soon jumping up and licking our hands and faces, and wagging his tail, till it looked as if he would wag it off. He seemed in no way displeased at receiving a piece of beef; and as soon as he had got it he began to trot off with it in his mouth in the direction from which he had come. After going a few yards, however, he stopped and turned half round, and wagged his tail, as much as to say, “Come along with me; I trotted all the way on purpose to fetch you.”

We took up our guns to show that we were about to follow; and on this he began to jump, and frisk about, and bark, to exhibit his satisfaction, and then he stopped and went on a little, and then stopped again to see that we were following. In great hopes that he was leading us to our friends, we went on as fast as we could walk. Our path led us under some cliffs which were literally crowded with penguins and young albatrosses, or mollimauks. There was a regular encampment or rookery of them, extending for five or six hundred yards in length, and from one to two dozen in breadth. The nests of the albatrosses were nearly a foot high, and of a cup-like form. Feathers were just beginning to spread on the backs and wings of the young birds, and to take the place of the down with which they had originally been covered. Old Surley passed by without taking any notice of them. When we approached the spot they set up a loud gabbling, and spouted out an oily substance at us. The penguins were much more dignified, and looked at us with silent contempt. The surface of the sea near at hand was covered with the parent birds, and the air was alive with them as they flew backward and forward to carry food to their young; but as, following old Surley’s example, we did not attempt to molest their broods, they took no notice of us. The penguins were the most numerous, and appeared to be the original inhabitants of the spot. They were arranged with great regularity, those having just broken the shell being together, as were those with their feathers appearing, and also those expecting soon to fly. Never had I seen so many birds together. However, we were too anxious about our friends to stop, so we hurried on after old Surley. From the steady way in which he proceeded, we felt sure that he was leading us in the right direction. Nor were we deceived. Before long we recognised the creek where we landed, and soon we reached the boat drawn up on the shore. We rushed towards her to discover if our friends had lately been there. We examined her thoroughly; but after all we could not decide the point. Thus we remained as anxious as ever. While, however, we were engaged in this manner, we had not watched old Surley, and when we looked up he was gone. Just before we got into the boat, Jerry’s cap had tumbled off, and when he wanted to put it on again, though we hunted about in every direction, it was nowhere to be found. At first we thought of continuing our search for our friends, but we soon agreed that it would be wiser to stay where we were; that if they had escaped they

would certainly return to the boat, and that if we went in search of them, the so doing would only delay our meeting. Being somewhat tired, therefore, we got into the boat, and drawing the sail over the after-part, we lay down in the stern-sheets and were soon fast asleep. We were both awoke by old Surley’s bark, and jumping up, we saw Mr Brand with his other two companions running along the beach. We jumped out of the boat and hurried to meet them. Mr Brand had Jerry’s cap in his hand, which old Surley had carried with him to show that he had found us. We speedily narrated our adventures to each other. They had been dreadfully alarmed on our account. It turned out as we had supposed—Mr Kilby had reached the sea-shore by himself, thinking that we were with the other party, while they supposed we were with him. However, they had not been very anxious about us till they saw the conflagration burst out, and guessed that we were by some means the cause of it. They were on their way to look for us, but the flames, like some mighty torrent, rushed towards them. They had with frantic haste to dart through the clumps of tussac and penguin grass to reach the beach. They hurried to the boat, and had barely time to leap into her, and shove off, before the flames, fanned by the wind, came crackling and hissing up after them, and would very probably have set her on fire. Cousin Silas was almost in despair about us, and Mr Kilby told me that he said he should never forgive himself if we came to harm. They were much interested with the account we gave them of our adventures; and as it was time for dinner, we agreed to cook and eat the trophies we had brought with us—the beef-steaks—before putting to sea. We were amused at finding that we had committed an illegal act in killing the bulls; but, as it was in self-defence, it was agreed that the act was justifiable.

It had been arranged that we were to rejoin the schooner on the evening of this day, at a point of land running out from an island a little to the west of where we now were, unless the weather should prove bad; in which case she was to come in for us. The weather, however, was very fine, so making sail we stood across the channel. The station to which she had gone was three or four miles further to the south. The water was very clear, and as we passed through the kelp we looked down in some places where it grew less thickly, and could see its vast stems and branches, with their huge leaves, springing up from the depth of many fathoms, like a forest of submarine oaks or Spanish chestnuts. We were amused with the flight of some of the ducks we put up. Mr Burkett called them loggerheads, racers, or steamers. Their wings will not lift them from the water, but whirling them round and round, they went scuttling and waddling away over the surface at a rapid rate, generally two and two—the loving husband and his wife—leaving a deep furrow in the water behind them. We burst into fits of laughter at the ridiculous manner in which they moved. They are fat and fishy, and not at all fit for food. I never expected to have seen more birds together than we had passed at the rookery under the cliffs in the morning; but we sailed by an island, of which birds of all descriptions had taken entire possession. There were various species of ducks, and geese, and snipe, and teal, and shags, and grebes, and penguins, and albatrosses, and sea-rooks, and oyster-catchers, and gulls with pink breasts, and many others, of whose names I have no note. As we believed that we had plenty of time, we landed near some cliffs to have a nearer look at them. So tame were they that we could knock down as many as we liked with our sticks; but it was murderous work, and as we did not want them to eat—indeed many were not fit for eating—we soon desisted from it.

Near where we landed the cliffs ran out into the sea, forming natural docks, and in one of these cliffs we discovered a large cavern, which seemed to run a great way under the ground. By climbing along the ledges of the rocks, somewhat slippery with sea-weed, at no little risk of a ducking, we got to the mouth of the cavern. The sides were composed of ledges rising one above another, and every available spot, as far as the eye could penetrate, was occupied by shags and divers, and other sea-fowls. There were thousands—there might have been millions of them, if the cavern ran back as far as we supposed it did. They in no way seemed alarmed at our intrusion, but allowed us to kick them over, without attempting to escape. However, at last, old Surley found his ways after us, and his appearance created the wildest hurly-burly and confusion. Such clapping of wings, and hurrying to and fro, and quacking, and shrieking, and whirling here and there, was never seen among a feathered community. They must have been very glad when we took our departure.

We had got into high spirits with our walk, and had begun

to forget all about the bulls and the fire, when, as Jerry and I were in advance scrambling along the shore, we saw basking, a little way inland, among some tussac grass, a huge animal. “Why, there is an elephant!” I exclaimed, starting back “or a live mammoth, or something of that sort. I don’t like his look, I own.”

However, screwing up our courage, we advanced cautiously toward the monster, as he seemed no way disposed to move at our approach. Then we halted and examined him more narrowly. He was alive, for we saw his eye complacently looking at us, as Diogenes might have looked out of his tub at the passing crowd. He was fully twenty feet long, with a huge unwieldy body and a big head. The most curious thing about his head was a huge nose, or trunk rather, which hung down nearly half a foot below the upper jaw. His skin was covered with short hair of a light dun colour, and he had a tail and fins like a seal. While we were still in doubt what he could be, Mr Kilby overtook us, and laughingly seizing our hands ran up behind the monster.

“Are you for a ride?” he exclaimed; and before Jerry suspected what was going to happen he found himself seated on the monster’s tail! “There you go, on the back of a sea-elephant,” exclaimed Mr Kilby, giving the beast a poke with his stick. “Hold on tight, and he can’t hurt you.”

Jerry did hold on, not knowing whether to laugh or shriek out with fear. Away crawled, or whalloped rather, the elephant towards the water, Mr Kilby and I keeping alongside, ready to catch Jerry should he fall off. I soon saw there was no real danger, except the monster should roll round, when his weight would kill any one under him. Jerry also instantly entered into the joke of the thing, and was delighted with the idea of being able to boast that he had ridden on a sea-elephant.

“I shall be carried off into the depths of the ocean, and you, Mr Kilby, will have to be answerable to my disconsolate father,” he sang out, half laughing and half crying. “Good-bye, Harry; a pleasant voyage to you round the world. May you not be spirited away by a sea-monster like this. Oh! oh! help me off, though!—he’ll have me into the sea to a certainty, and then he’ll turn round and gobble me up—he will. I know he will.”

As the beast approached the beach, lest the joke might be carried too far, we lent him a hand to dismount, while his steed crawled on as sedately as before into the water, and, as he swam off, turned round his head, as much as to say, “Hillo, master, are you not coming too? Just try it, and see how you like a swim with me.” Mr Kilby told us that this animal had probably been sick, and had remained behind while his companions had taken to the sea, which they always do on the approach of summer. In autumn they come on shore, and live in large herds in marshy places by the sides of rivers, eating grass like cattle. The females, which are without the snout, suckle their young, of which they have generally two at a time. As they are very slow in their movements, to afford themselves time to escape they have sentinels posted while they are feeding, whose duty is to give notice of approaching danger. They are very good tempered and inoffensive, though the mothers will attack those who molest their young. Mr Kilby told us of a man who had his leg bitten off by a female, while he was attempting to carry away her cub. We now once more took to the boat. We had not been long under weigh before I saw Mr Burkett looking up anxiously at the sky.

“I don’t quite like the look of the weather,” he remarked. He had been a sailor, and had long been cruising about the islands. He was therefore our pilot on the present occasion. “Brand, can you make out the schooner anywhere?” Cousin Silas replied that he could nowhere see her. “Then something has delayed her at the station,” observed Burkett. “As the tide is making in that direction, and the wind is fair, we’ll run down there instead of crossing the channel to the point proposed.”

This plan was agreed to, though it might have been wiser had we kept to our original purpose. For some time we made fine weather of it, but getting into another channel, we found the wind first scant, and then directly against us. We had consequently no choice but to attempt to beat up to the station. This delayed us much beyond the time we expected to get there. We of course kept a bright look-out for the schooner, lest she should pass us; but evening was closing in apace, and still we had a long way to go. However, Mr Burkett said he knew exactly where we were, and that we should be able before long to make out a light in one of the cottages, which would guide us to the station. So we kept a press of sail on the boat, and looked out for the light. The boat stood well up to her canvas, but after passing high cliffs, and opening a channel from the sea, a sudden squall took her, and before we had time to cast off the sheet, she was over on her beam ends. Cousin Silas whipped out his knife and tried to cut the main-sheet, while I let go the head-sheets, and Burkett jammed down the helm; but it was too late—over went the boat. Our ballast, happily, consisting of water-casks, she did not sink, though she turned bottom upwards. It was a moment of intense horror and dismay. I felt myself under the boat, entangled in the rigging! I had no time for thought. I felt that death had come, far away from home and friends. The next moment I was dragged out and placed on the keel—Cousin Silas was my preserver. Where was poor Jerry, though? Again Silas dived, and brought him to the surface, handing him up near me. Mr Kilby and Mr Burkett were clinging on to the gunwale, and now they all climbed up; and there we sat, our lives for the moment preserved, but with very grave apprehensions as to what should become of us. Old Surley, when the boat capsized, kept swimming round her; and when we climbed up on her bottom, be followed our example, sitting as grave as a

judge, thinking it was all right. Had we been near inhabited shores, or in a channel frequented by vessels, we might have had some hope of being rescued; but the schooner was the only vessel we could expect to pass that way, and the chances of her seeing us appeared very remote. Happily the wind fell, and there was not much sea, or we should have been washed off our insecure hold. The current was running very strong, and Burkett was of opinion that it would drift us down towards the station; but it was a question whether we could reach the place before the tide turned, and whether we should get near enough to it to make our cries heard. These discussions occupied us for some time, and perhaps assisted to divert our minds from the very awful position in which we were placed. Jerry and I were sitting near each other astride on the keel at the after-part of the boat. Cousin Silas had climbed up over the bows, while Burkett and Kilby hung on, lying their full length amidships.

“I say, Brand, don’t you think we could manage to right the boat?” said Burkett. “If we could do it we might paddle on shore somewhere, and we should, at all events, have no fear of starving.”

“We’ll try what can be done,” answered Cousin Silas, slipping off into the water, and we following his example. “All ready now—heave away.” We hove in vain. The sail, and something else heavy, which had got foul of the rigging, prevented us righting her.

“We must give it up, I fear,” cried Burkett at last. “The oars went adrift, I fear; and as we have no hats among us, we should have nothing to bail her out with.”

As it happened, we all wore light sea-caps, which would have helped us very little in getting rid of the water. With sad hearts we had to abandon the attempt, and again to climb up into our places, considerably exhausted with the efforts we had made. Night was now coming on rapidly, and the darkness which grew round us much increased the horrors of opposition.

“One thing I have to tell you,” said Burkett,—“there is always a light kept burning at the station. If we sight it, we shall know whereabouts we are, and be able to calculate our chances of reaching the shore.”

This, however, I thought very poor consolation. The light could be of no use to us unless the tide took us near enough to it to allow of our voices being heard on shore. Fortunately we could still distinguish the dim outline of the coast as we drifted by, or we should not have known in what direction to look out for the expected light. Cousin Silas said very little—he was anxiously looking out for the beacon, to us of such vital importance. How dreadful, indeed, was our situation! I dared not think—I dared not hope to escape—still I dared not turn my eye to the future. I waited with a sort of apathetic indifference to the result. No light appeared; the current was evidently setting us through the centre of the passage out to sea, in the direction of that storm-surrounded promontory, Cape Horn. We must abandon even the remote prospect of being drifted on shore on one of the southern portions of the Falklands. For some time there was a complete silence among us. It was broken by Cousin Silas.

“My friends,” said he, in a calm, grave tone, but without a sign of agitation, “has it occurred to you that we may soon be called upon to die? Are you prepared for death? Are you ready to stand in the presence of the Judge of all the earth?”

No one answered him. What were their thoughts I do not know. Mine were very terrible. I thought how hard it was for those young as Jerry and I were, to be summoned to leave the beautiful world which we expected to enjoy so much. I forgot that numbers young as ourselves had been called away.

“It is a fact we should all of us attempt to realise,” continued Silas. “We must be judged. Have we gone to the Fountain which washes away all sins, to be cleansed from our iniquities? Do you trust on Christ, and Christ alone, as our Saviour, who will acknowledge us as his disciples—who will present us purified from our sins for acceptance by the Father? My dear friends, I put before you these great truths, because our happiness or our misery for that eternity which we are now approaching depends on them. On what do you trust? Oh, be able to give a satisfactory answer before it is too late.” I will not give the conversation which followed. It was very brief. The result was, that each of us turned ourselves to prayer, and prayed as we had never prayed before. Had we even been more disposed to levity than we were, we could not but have felt the earnestness of the appeal made to us—the importance of the subject—the awful truths uttered by our companion. Darker grew the night—the sea-birds screamed above us—the distant cliffs grew dimmer, their outline less distinct—the rushing tide earned us rapidly onwards—the cold wind pierced through our wet clothes, and sent the spray dashing over us. Shivering, benumbed, hungry and faint, I felt as if I could no longer retain my hold. Death—death, I thought, was truly approaching. Still, notwithstanding all Cousin Silas had said, I did not so much picture the future; I did not even dread it as I mourned for what I was leaving—the distant home I loved so well, and all those who so dearly loved me. I thought of the anxiety the uncertainty of my fate would occasion, the grief when they learned the truth; and bitter tears burst from my eyes, not for myself, but for them I loved. I mention the state of my mind and feelings on this awful occasion for a very important object. It agrees with my own experience, and all I have heard from others placed in similar situations;—a person who has been living unprepared for death, for eternity, cannot on a sudden change the whole current of his thoughts, and fix them on the awful state into which he is hurrying. If he has not before found peace with God, there is little hope that he will seek it then. Oh no! the time to do that is while we have health and strength, and hope to have a long life before us to be consecrated to him. He has an eternity prepared for us—are we to give him alone the dregs of our short span of life? He gave us everything—are we to return him only a few hurried prayers and ejaculations of sorrow? We cry out for mercy—on what do we ground our expectations of receiving it? Remember that God is a just God—what, in justice, do we deserve? Oh! remember also that “in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh;” and as you value your happiness for eternity, say not in your heart, “My Lord delayeth his coming.” I was thinking of home, and all I loved there. Suddenly a shout brought my thoughts back to the sad reality of our own position.

“The light! the light!—there it is—I see it clearly,” exclaimed Jerry, whose bright eyes had been constantly on the watch for the looked-for beacon.

“Where? where?” we all simultaneously cried out.

“At a right angle with the boat’s keel, as she now lies, on the port-side. There—there, it is quite bright.”

All of us looked intently in the direction he indicated. There was the light—there could be no doubt about it, beaming forth cheerfully through the darkness. It was still a mile or more to the south along the shore past which we were drifting, and we certainly were nearly a mile, if not a full mile, from the coast.

“How near do you judge that we shall drift to the station?” asked Cousin Silas of Burkett.

He considered a little—“Not much nearer than we now are,” he answered.